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girlboypersonthingy · 2 months

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Hazbin Boys x reader- Comfort ❤️‍🩹

This is a request from an anon- hazbin boys comforting reader with depression/mental illness. Includes Lucifer, Angel, Husk, Sir Pentious, Vox and just a dab of Alastor. Original request here + a heart felt message from yours truly 💌

TW: depression, mental illness, sickeningly sweet fluff

Notes: gn!reader, NSFW during Angel’s part 18+ plz

Lucifer 🍎

Oh my goodnessssssss, prepare to be treated like absolute royalty.

I’m talking foot rubs, back rubs, playing with your hair

Not only will he make you food, he’ll literally try to feed you and offer you sweet praises when you do eat. Eating can be a real chore sometimes…

“Good job, my love. It’s gonna be okay…okay?”

I think Luci is pretty touchy in general, but when you’re down in the dumps, he gets extra clingy and touchy

He’ll pretty much constantly have a hand on you- holding your hand, a hand on your back, a gentle rub on your shoulder

Will unfurl his wings and drag you close to him in bed, wrapping his arms and silky feathers around you as he lulls you to sleep

Like imagine a midday depression nap all tangled up with Luci, curtains drawn so the room is nice and dark, the temp is perfect, the bed is hugging you just as good as your babe next to is. Ugh. Plz, I want this. I need this.

Will try to gently coax you out of bed and try to get you out of the house. He knows it won’t be easy for you but he thinks getting you cleaned up, dressed and out doing something fun you’ll feel a bit better. You’ll at least be distracted from your sadness for a bit.

He’s so kind and nonjudgmental too. He gets it completely. He has depression too. Even the king of hell deals with mental illness, okay? Mental illness does not discriminate

He’ll offer the best advice he can muster up, using his own experiences to help you out of your funk

All in all, he’s just an absolute sweet pea. So doting, so caring.

Angel Dust 🕸️

Also has mental illness, also gets it completely.

KING OF DISTRACTIONS

Angel is a sweet boy but I don’t think he’d be too great at offering advice…

So he does his best to distract you from your feelings, doing whatever it takes to get you to smile, even just for a second.

Will ask you what you want to do first, whatever will make you happy, he’ll go along with it.

If you insist on rotting in bed, he’ll probably respectfully pull you out of bed, tell you “this ain’t good for ya, babe” and force you to go do something fun, something relaxing, something for yourself

Sorry not sorry but he’ll def offer to cheer you up by fucking you, letting you fuck him, eating you out, sucking your dick. Go ahead, take your stress out on him, he can take it ;)

Also the king of self care.

SPA DAY SPA DAY SPA DAY

Will draw you and him a bath, rub your shoulders while you sit in the warm water together, will even wash your hair for you

Forces you to wear a face mask with him lmao

“C’mon, (Y/N)! Lemme paint ya nails! You’ll look sooooo cuuuuuute~”

Expect lots of touching and kisses with him at night, especially if you’re having trouble sleeping

Rubs your back, rubs your arms, will rub gentle circles on your butt if you’ll let him, kisses your head, kisses your cheeks, kisses your nose

ALL THE KISSESSSSSS 💋💋💋

Husk 🃏

Okay listen…this guy is obvi a great listener and he’s pretty good at giving advice. Honestly, he’s probably the best person to go to.

Husk is an old soul, he’s pretty wise, has a lot of life experience, death experience, his own experience with mental illness and even addiction.

He could just listen to you talk for hours, waiting for you to pause before he replies. He’d never interrupt. He’s so patient with you 🥹

Will keep a close eye on you and any new habits you’ve seemed to pick up. He fixes his own issues with booze but he’s the type to say “do as I say, not as I do”

Won’t let you spiral into addiction like he did…it’s not an option.

I think Husk would be a good mix of “Come here, give Husker a hug. It’s alright, hun. Let’s go take a little nap, yeah?” and “Hey, I know what’ll cheer ya up!” *proceeds to show you the coolest, craziest magic tricks*

He’s a good balance of comfort and distraction

Anything he can do to help, just say the word

Will tell you funny shit he’s seen the folks around the hotel do just to see you laugh for a moment

“One time, Angel was walking right in front of the bar at like 7 in the morning and tripped over literally nothing and face planted! I had the best seat in the house. It was hilarious.”

This is my own personal headcanon, idk why but I feel like Husk can cook really well. He’d totally make you food, even bring it to you in bed if you don’t feel like getting up

Will absolutely let you play with him like a kitten, won’t even be upset about it. Play with his ears, give him pets, let his fur be your stim toy, let his purr soothe your achy heart

Sir Pentious 🐍

Plzzzz, he’s such a simp. I love this slippery, special little guy 💚

Big on cuddles! Will cuddle you all day, all night if you want. Loves the physical contact, and loves it even more when he can feel you relax a bit against him.

Will make his eggs boys do anything for you. Whatever you want, you tell them and they’ll happily oblige.

Kinda random but I think he’d be the type to try and pull silly little pranks on ppl around the hotel just to get you to laugh. He’s such a silly goose omg

He doesn’t really understand what you’re going through so he’ll just keep asking you what he can do, how he can help, what you want, what you need from him.

He doesn’t get it but he’ll do anything for you.

When you’re feeling particularly lazy and it’s extra hard to leave your bed, he’ll literally carry you around. Just lounge in his arms, darling, he’ll take you wherever you need to go. Don’t need to go anywhere? Fine, you’re gonna come along with him to do his daily tasks. Sit in his lap and just watch as he works.

Just wants to keep you close. He can’t stand the thought of you being alone when you feel like this. No matter where he is or what he’s doing, he wants you close.

Unless you insist on having some alone time or needing some space. Again, whatever you need from him, you got it.

Although, he may get a little teary eyed and pouty when he leaves you. Can’t stop thinking about you all day and probably comes and checks on you several times.

Vox 🖥️

“CANCEL MY MEETINGS, HOLD ALL MY CALLS, TELL EVERYONE IM NOT RESPONDING TO EMAILS UNTIL TOMORROW!”

Guy needs to focus on his baby right now. You are his top priority, everything else can wait. You are just too precious to put on the back burner.

Will be sure to tell Val and Velvette to leave you two alone. He doesn’t want them upsetting you any more than you already are.

This man has his assistants waiting on you hand and foot. He’s gonna stay in your bed with you, cuddled up with tons of blankets, both in your pajamas as you watch movies while ordering his staff to bring you whatever it is you desire.

Will eventually yank you out of bed bc he can’t stay still for too long but you’re coming with him. Wants to keep you company always

In public, Vox isn’t the most romantic or touchy. He’s a busy man with a huge reputation to uphold. While he would never completely ignore you and he’s no ashamed to show some PDA with you, you sort of always find yourself following in his shadow when he’s hard at work.

Once he sees how much your mental health is affecting you, he becomes much more attentive, much more protective of you.

He’ll hold your hand or keep his arm around you when out and about. Will give you a gentle kiss and a prideful smile before getting on set for a news shoot.

If you’re having a particularly hard day, everyone get out of the way! Hes taking the day off, he doesn’t give a fuck what anyone says or thinks.

You are too important to him. Without you, what good would all his accomplishments be? Without you, who would he share all this with?

He needs you to stick around 🩵

Alastor🩸

I think Alastor would be absolutely clueless but he’d try his best nonetheless!

He’d also be one to try and distract you.

Wanna go to cannibal town and visit Rosie? She’ll help cheer you up! She’s a great listener with tons of good advice to give

Will reluctantly invite you into his room and lead you to the half of it that looks like a swamp/forest. He will take off his coat and sit in the grass with you, staying silent but watching you look around in awe.

He’s got lots of cool powers and will summon or manifest little things here that he thinks will bring a smile to your face.

Summons little lightning bugs to carefully dance around your face, holds back from slaughtering a deer that’s approaching just so you can admire it from afar, will watch with a genuine smile as you lay back in the grass and relax to the sound of crickets chirping and light jazz music.

If you asked…he might give you a hug. Might.

Also sends his shadow to check up on you every so often but if you notice this, he will deny it with all his might.

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oh-snapperss · 5 months

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creature comfort

“We won’t win today,” Cleo says, and Etho knows she’s right. Knows their time has been running out since the first secret was whispered to them in voices all too familiar, has known that this day was coming, has known that all this time, it’s not been a question of if–it’s been a question of when.

They’re going to die today. Distantly, Etho wonders if the domesticity they’ve worked for will die with them, or if it will follow them back home.

Will his home ever be a physical place again? Home is where the hearth is, where the warmth is, where the world is shut out and it’s just the three of them.

Home is where Cleo is.

“That’s alright,” Etho smiles instead of voicing all of that, wishing, of all things, that he didn’t still have that awful cough that Cleo had insisted he rest over for a few days. “We’ll be alright.”

They’ll be dead–and what are the dead, if not alright? The dead don’t have coughs, or pain, or fear. They’re just dead. Etho thinks he might not mind it so much, this time. He’s finally learned to spend his time wisely, and he’s built a home no flaming arrow could ever take down.

Just by the cow pen, there’s a stupid little porch Etho had built a while back. They’re nowhere near it now, but every night he and Cleo had watched the sunset, drank a final cup of tea, and turned in to sleep over gossip and giggles only they could draw from each other this time ‘round. Before, Bdubs had made him laugh like that–now, Etho wonders how long before there’s a sword at his throat.

Even so, while Cleo laughs and watches him set Scar’s porch on fire, Etho hopes he might have the privilege of watching the sunset from the porch one last time. He’d survive the day, if only for another sunset with Cleo.

BANG.

Tango’s gone–Etho knows it in his heart. Surely he should feel an ache for him, should ask how he went. Instead, it’s easy to accept it.

The wardens are fun. That’s all they are, now. Before, they had been terrors, then the answer to a desperate prayer he and Grian had made. The carnage of those terrifying beasts feel muted compared to before, but with the wind flying through his hair, the elated cries of Cleo in front of him, Etho can’t care. Not this time. They lead two clear to the middle of the server before they’ve decided to finish having their fun, and Cleo’s just stepping up some rocks when she says it.

“You’re my favorite, you know that? You’ve always been my favorite.”

He does know, he does know now. He’d guessed it that first sunset, when Cleo sat down with a giddy smile to recount their day. He’d thought it, when she’d wrapped a blanket around his shoulders after his failures and rested her head on his shoulder without a word. He’d lived it, when she had shouted that she would kill him if he tried to kill her–but was reassured otherwise that night on the porch again, with the curse ebbing from his bones.

Today, he knows it in the blatant rebellion against what’s supposed to be the end, the dread, the fear.

“You’re mine too.” Etho grins back, and knows that they’ll see his smile even through the mask–knows they’ve come to recognize it in his tone and way his eyebrows scrunch together. .

They wind up in the sky base with Grian–Grian, who hasn’t quite reached the same conclusion they have. Etho knows by the shadows under his eyes he won’t give up, that he’ll fight clear to the end. Once upon a season, Etho had been the same.

Not this time. Never this time.

Around ten minutes to sunset, Etho and Cleo set down their dripstone and bows, and sit on the edge of the cobblestone wall.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back to our base for it this time,” Etho jokes, nudging his shoulder into Cleo’s. Cleo laughs, a carefree thing, and wrinkles her nose.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for it any time, if we’re being honest.” She leans back, one hand half behind her to support her weight.

“I know,” Etho says. He brings his leg up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Behind them, cobblestone is placed–Grian, ever the survivor. “It was nice, though.”

“It was nice!” Cleo beams. “Are you alright with this?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Etho hums. “‘s not so bad. Dying with a friend.”

“It won’t be,” Cleo agrees.

Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Etho’s never died like this–he’s died at the flames of an arrow shot while protecting his king, he’s died in fights after his allies were killed. Hell, he’s died hand in hand with a soulmate hellbent on killing him now–but he’d been in a frenzy then, a rage-induced thing meant to burn up the place that had never been a true home to them.

He thinks he won’t mind dying with someone.

The sun sets in brilliant hues of orange and pink, and they sit together, this final tradition not lost in the face of inevitability. Just as the first star twinkles, Grian comes over, hoisting them back to their feet.

“They’re coming,” he says.

It’s time.

They shoot a few arrows, break some dripstone, all to no avail–but that’s alright, he’s got Cleo, and they’ve got him.

But oh, the games are never kind, are they? Etho slips, his foot landing weird somehow–and he’s whistling through the air towards the ground at a speed too fast. It knocks the breath from his lungs when he lands–does he hit the clutch? Stars, he doesn’t actually know, because there’s arrows shot at him, shouts of glee from the hunters, and suddenly Etho’s not Etho, he’s just prey–and prey only know to do one thing.

Run.

Etho flies forward, dragging his sword out. There’s not many safe spaces left on the server–stars, Grian had even mentioned their base was but a crater in the hill.

But the porch… the porch was intact. Supposedly.

He enderpearls, and enderpearls again, and it’s still not enough. The screams behind him are closer, and closer, and then further–and oh, Etho knows it’s time. He’s dead, he’s gone, he’ll be but a wisp of the wind in a few minutes whether he likes it or not.

And he won’t die by Cleo.

Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Oh, he’d not meant it to be like this. He’d meant to die with a smile, right by her side–just as they were meant to die by his. This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t the plan. A sob claws its way up his throat, the beginnings of the blind panic he’d never meant to feel tonight. He’s going to die, alone, without the comfort of his Cleo.

Home. He wants to go home.

Home is in the air, a hundred blocks above him. He’ll never make it–but he can make it back to the porch, the one place of peace. Now, he can feel the twinge of something broken in his ankles, probably from the fall–and the cuts, the bruises, the blood scent thick in his nose. He’s so tired.

He wants to die at home, he wants to die at home.

“Oh, he sounds like a wounded animal… let’s put him out of his misery.” A voice said. Cold fear grips Etho’s heart, and he stumbles forward–the porch is in sight!

Let him die at home. Let him die at home.

A shadow fills his vision, and Etho’s not even had time to lift his shield before blinding pain fills his stomach, and it’s over.

He’s not allowed that creature comfort of dying at home.

#secret life #secret life smp #ethoslab #zombiecleo #cletho #secret life spoilers #my fics #tw death #I don't have an explanation at all for this #Is this cohesive?? i wrote it in a daze. in under thirty minutes #if it's not great OH WELL #this is how i am coping #god i'm never gonna feel okay again about them #never ever #i'm fucking insane #bursts into tears

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Monster Mayhem: Lion's Pride [Part 3]

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: Your new job as a Full Time Royal Therapist does not pay nearly as well as you'd like. Or, Leona is more of a problem child than he would ever admit, but you're surprisingly okay at dealing with that.

[PART 1][PART 2] [PART 3]

Sometimes you felt like you hardly knew what it meant to be a functional person, living a comfortable life on the fringes of society. So in comparison, trying to think of what it meant to be an actual prince, ruling over all of said society was something you literally could not comprehend no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it.

“If you’re a Prince, what were you doing in a hole?” you asked, because you had far too many questions and concerns, and this one at least seemed easy enough to address. And also because you were genuinely pretty curious.

The newly dubbed ‘Leona’ twitched against your back and you felt the low rumble of his snarl work its way from the depths of his gut all the way up through his chest and out his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Ace wheezed. “Screw this. I’m getting out of here before I wind up implicated as an accessory in your murder.”

And so your trusty friend abandoned you to the wolves lions?—darting away so quickly he always forget his bag, shoes, and everything else in the process.

You waved after him as he departed, knowing full well that he’d wind up stumbling back within the week, maybe two at most. He always did, no matter how much he complained about your Present Company. Plain old ‘murder’ was actually one of his more polite accusations. When he’d run into your Hunter friend the first time, Ace had gone on a wildly incoherent rant about how he was going to find your corpse strung up in a tree like some weird, ritual, sacrifice. And then that had devolved into something-something cannibalism or other. The visiting Hunter had just thrown his head back and laughed, positively enamored with the grisliness of it all. Ace had vanished for almost an entire month after that encounter, but he did come back—glaring up at you with a miserable pout like you were the one who’d gone and fucked off for thirty whole days.

Leona snorted and you felt the puff of breath against the back of your neck.

“Coward,” he grumbled, though he didn’t sound particularly displeased about your friend’s sudden departure.

“Fear lets us be brave,” you responded, wise as a sage. Or maybe an old frog in a puddle.

“Yeah?” he intoned, rolling his eyes. “And when’s that little rat ever been brave?”

“There’s always tomorrow,” you chirped, and that snort turned into something dangerously close to a chuckle. Which—gasp!—how dare such a pleasant sound fall from the lips of someone so obstinately determined to be otherwise! You grinned at the low tones of it, only for the snickering to cut off sharply in his throat once he’d realized what he was doing. And then of course he shoved you forward and out of his lap with a great amount of indignant snarling.

You laid there for a few minutes—face down in the sun-warmed grass and laughing quietly about just how ridiculous this stupid Lion was, before finally sitting up with a pleasant stretch. He could put on airs all he liked, you knew there was kernel of something far less angsty and murderous buried at the heart of him.

“So,” you hummed, lazily making your way back to your feet. “What exactly have I done to draw the realm’s Prince to my doorstep?” You squinted at him suspiciously. “You’re not here about the fairy gate thing, are you? Because that was actually an accident.”

“The what?” he frowned, brow pinched in confusion.

You waved him off. “Ah, nothing, nothing.”

Something in his jaw twitched, like now he was going to push the subject out of principle of you being shifty. But he just sighed and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“I need your help,” he said finally. Just as crabby as the first time he’d asked, if perhaps just a touch less imperious.

You arched a brow. “I think you’ve mentioned that already, yes.”

Silence.

The Lion stared you down with a slowly deepening scowl, and you stared back with a smile as placid and unmoved as the shallow pond you’d nearly drowned Ace in not an hour before.

“If I apologize, you’ll help me?” he asked after a long moment, the question turning sharp at the end on a bitten of growl.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” you hummed back and he crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, with all the pleasantry of someone undergoing a root canal. And all the sincerity of Ace swearing that this was the last time he’d get caught evading the tax man, promise.

You sighed, feeling a bit cheated. But you hadn’t really stipulated anything beyond those two little words leaving his mouth, so if anything, that was on you.

“Alright,” you huffed. “What is it you need help with?”

The Lion glared at you suspiciously for a long moment—glowing eyes narrowed into slits and tail twitching back and forth like he was swatting flies. Finally, he sighed and lifted his hands out in front of him with a pointed flex.

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” he frowned sourly, wrists twisting to display the pointed claws tipping his fingers. “I’m not supposed to get stuck in between.”

Your eyes traced the fluffy tufts of his round ears, the black-tipped tail swishing irritably at his hind, and allowed yourself a melancholy sort of huff.

“But you look good like this,” you pointed out sadly. Because he really, truly, did. Leona without his squishy lion ears would just be… grumpy. Miserable, and angular, and angry. Nothing soft worth coddling at all.

“That’s not the point!” he snapped, baring his overlarge canines at you. There was a darker cast along his cheekbones that seemed to be making a valiant effort to crawl all the way up into his fringe. “And don’t fucking say that!”

You frowned. One second this stupid dick wanted to be praised to the Heavens and back! Practically swanning about, demanding you bow down and acknowledge his blatant superiority. But, oh no. Apparently your meager half-sentence masquerading as a compliment was too much for his delicate, princely, sensibilities.

“Fine,” you griped. “You’re ugly.”

He growled—low and rumbling—and if he was anymore of a cat you’d say you could see his hackles raising in indignation. But before he could launch into another vicious, verbal, evisceration of your person, you cleared your throat loudly in an attempt to get him back on track.

“What do you mean by ‘stuck in between?’”

He sneered down at you testily for a moment before reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose again and letting out a put-upon sort of sigh that was not at all indicative of the fact that he was the one asking you for help.

“The Shift. When you found me in that pit, I should have been able to Shift between that form and this one without issue,” he frowned, brow tugging down tight with something a bit more disquieted than his usual, flat, annoyance. “The iron was a problem, but once I was out of the trap, it should have been fine. I’ve dealt with cursed snares like this before, and the effects have never lingered as long as this one has.”

You blinked owlishly. That did sound… fairly unpleasant. And honestly, if you were in his position you’d also be at least a little concerned that something else was at play. But, still, all that being said—

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, more or less genuine. Perhaps leaning a bit harder into less.“But I don’t understand how that has anything to do with me.”

“You were down there with me,” he argued. “You dismantled the trap.”

Uh, yeah. By messing with bits that looked breakable until they broke. Not exactly a high-level intellectual pursuit.

You didn’t say that, of course. Because after a few days watching you scuttle about your homestead like a particularly vocal lizard in the dirt, you were sure he already thought you were stupid enough without you outright admitting to it. Nevertheless, the Lion observed your zip-lipped silence with an ever-deepening scowl.

“You took it apart,” he tried again, nearly a growl.

“Yes,” you said with a nod.

“You know how you did it,” he continued, firm. At your lack of affirmative, he pushed again. “You know. I watched you do it!”

You raised your hand nervously and made a little so-so tilting motion.

Anyone less refined would no doubt have had their head in their hands at this point, but Leona just curled his lip at you and looked like he was fighting valiantly not to put your own very silly head through a wall.

“It was charmed,” he spat. “Bound up with talismans, and cursed down to its very moldings. That isn’t something any random farmer could walk up and break.”

“Oh,” you blinked, taken aback, and struggled to recall if there had been anything so obviously enchanted about the trap you’d fiddled into bits. “Was it?”

And head had officially met hands. He ground his clawed fingers into his temples like you were a headache that with enough determination and massaging he may somehow be able to will away.

“Couldn’t you go just home if this is such a big problem?” you asked, still genuinely baffled at it all. “Get help from your family? I mean, you’re a Prin—”

“No,” he interrupted, emerald eyes gone glacier cold.

You frowned, as unimpressed by his prickliness as you usually were. But something in you was hesitant to prod at whatever it was that had managed to tug a feral rage so tightly across his face—like drawing a shade over a window until the entire home was cloaked in shadow, or slipping away behind a carved mask too heavy to ever wear comfortably. It was an expression so sharp and so bitter that if you hadn’t only just yesterday watched this stubborn man lounge about in the sun as your chickens hopped all over him like he was the world’s most carnivorous jungle gym, you wouldn’t ever have known that they could be the same person at all.

“Alright,” you shrugged, and some of that angry, hunched, defensiveness eased into confusion.

“Hah?” he frowned.

“Alright,” you said again. “We’ll figure it out here.” He glared over at you balefully, and you waved off the obvious retort on the tip of his tongue about something-something-you have no idea what you’re doing-something-something-dangerous risks and lifelong consequences-blablabla. “I have a friend who would know a lot more about those kinds of traps and talismans that I do. He could help, probably.”

“Probably?” he scoffed. Though when he rolled his eyes, they weren’t quite so hate filled—lids hooded with a familiar, begrudging sort of irritation rather than outright malice.

“He’s a bit of an enigma,” you explained—wiggling your fingers in a little, sparkly, dance to emphasize the, well, enigmatic part.

Another huff. But amidst that grumpy bellyaching, you watched those fluffy ears of his slowly perk back up atop his head, and his tail swish leisurely behind him. The Lion certainly didn’t look happy (but did he ever? So was that really a fair comparison?), but he definitely seemed like he’d thawed into something less ‘frigid dead of winter’ and more ‘unpleasantly nippy spring morning.’

“Weirder than you, herbivore?” he sniffed, looking down his nose at you and crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “I find that hard to believe.”

Normally you would too. But, well…

“He’s charming,” you chirped pleasantly, and Leona’s face twisted up like you’d served him a bowl of rancid yogurt.

That night you composed a letter to your dearest Hunter friend. You thanked him for bringing you the White Moor Stag, elaborated a bit on the new marinade you’d been experimenting with, and then ended the whole thing with a polite plea for his aid in deconstructing the mechanisms of a magical trap you’d encountered. You bribed one of your two carrier pigeons with some snacks and watched it fly off into the unknown with a little, cream-colored envelope tied to its foot. Message talismans were much simpler and far more convenient, but the Hunter always seemed to appreciate the personal touch of postal birds.

Leona glared at you from the window, and made some dramatic swipe at your pigeon like he meant to knock it out of the air. The poor bird tottered about like an overfilled water balloon—jiggling and wriggling in its roundness before eventually righting itself and continuing on into the sky with a warbled coo coo.

“Don’t be rude,” you huffed at him.

“I can’t believe you still won’t let me in,” he sneered from beneath the fluff of that blanket you’d gifted him. “I apologized.”

“Yes, but you actually have to mean it,” you explained, not unkindly, as he prowled just beyond the glass. “But we’re making progress!” you beamed. “That’s something! Maybe you’ll make it in here within the next five years, hmm?”

“Or I could just wipe out the entirety of your ridiculous dirt farm now,” he threatened, a bit of that sandy magic swirling sinisterly along his fingers.

“You certainly could, your highness,” you agreed easily. His lip curled unpleasantly, but that glowing, gritty, arcana faded away and he didn’t move from where he’d tucked himself up under the duvet.

After another solid fifteen minutes of his pissy glowering and barbed insults, you pointedly unclipped the ties on your curtains and let them fall shut so that his ridiculous pouting was hidden away behind the thin, cotton, mess of poorly stitched flowers and herbs.

(You did leave a nice dinner plate on the ledge before that, with extra portions of meat and a neatly frosted cookie for dessert. Because as much as your day had been a bit rough, you had a feeling his melancholy extended far beyond being left out in the dark for another evening.)

The next morning, your doddering pigeon returned with an elegantly bound scroll—all embellished with golden filagree and tied up in a neat, crimson, bow.

“Why does this freak call you ‘mon cher ami,’” Leona sniffed, tongue curling awkwardly over the unfamiliar words.

You sighed and debated snatching the letter back, but all that would probably culminate in was the paper in tatters and a smug beastman lording his superior letter-wrangling skills over your head like a trophy.

“It’s just one of his little ticks,” you explained with a shrug. “I told you—he’s charming.”

“Ah, yes,” Leona drawled, tracing a claw along the parchment’s edge with a soft shhhhhft. A raised, white, line cut across the paper’s surface like the beginnings of a wound. “Waxing poetic nonsense in a foreign language. Rambling on about all kinds of useless fucking garbage. Charming.”

“You,” you snipped, reaching out to smack at his tightening grip before he could rend the poor correspondence to bits, “are not one to talk about ‘charming.’”

“Oh?” he scoffed. He maneuvered around your tutting to hold the letter over your head. Typical. When you leaned forward to try and wrangle it back, Leona leaned in closer—eyes going hooded and lips curling into a smug little smirk that promised all sorts of trouble. “Haven’t had any complaints about that before. Who’d be saying otherwise?”

“The person you left stranded at the bottom of a pit, you inglorious oaf,” you griped. His ears immediately swiveled to pin flat against the top of his head, and you used the distraction of his indignation to finally snatch back your prize. “Besides,” you huffed, straightening out some of the new wrinkles. “Not very Prince-like, is it? A real prince would have swept in to save the idiot in distress. Sword drawn, banners flying,” you sighed, a bit too besotted with your own imaginings. “Why did you have to be such a dick, huh? Ruined my fantasies for the rest of my life.”

“And what?” Leona snapped. “Some rogue bastard sending you cursive garbage does it for you?”

“Better than being left for dead in a hole after saving their life,” you smiled—perfectly, poisonously, pleasant.

Leona rumbled something indiscernible under his breath and turned to glare petulantly off across your garden.

“Besides,” you hummed, looking over the letter. “There’s more important things. Like this—right here. Do you know what a self-bored stone is? He’s thinking maybe there was a process like that with the iron shackles. Or maybe something to do with seeping the components in herbs… Hmm…”

“Whatever,” Leona scoffed. “I’ll try whatever it takes to fix this shit.”

You clapped him amiably on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, tête de noeud!”

“The fuck did you just call me?!”

“Poetic nonsense,” you chirped, and Leona looked half ready to drop you back into the hole where he’d found you.

The first attempt to aid the Lion Prince in his conundrum didn’t go particularly well.

You’d tried to work off of the whole ‘overlap with a self-bored stone’ theory, but all that really amounted to was you gesturing like an over-serious crossing guard for him to walk under every low hanging branch, every arch, beneath the stunted beams of the chicken coop. You dangled rocks from strings and waved around your little creations like slightly more dangerous pompoms.

Penelope clucked irritably when one of the pebbles fell with a plunk into her nest, and Leona frowned up at you from where the wayward chicken had firmly situated herself in his lap.

“How was any of that supposed to help?”

You drew a blank and promised to try something new tomorrow.

The next day you tried herbs. The Hunter had listed off quite a few that were known to cause lingering issues with magical creatures, and you harvested the lot of them from your garden with ease. You held them up to Leona’s face one by one, brow furrowed in concentration, as you waited for… something.

“How is this any better than the rocks?” he complained.

You pushed the bright, butter-yellow, blossoms of some Saint John’s Wort under his nose until he sneezed and shoved you away with a slew of indignant threats to your person.

The following few days were spent perusing your meager library. You carted every book you owned on magic, and binding rituals, and rune smithing out into the yard. Leona looked over at the slowly growing pile of tomes with a truly unimpressed scowl.

“You could have just invited me inside,” he griped, rolling his eyes. He was splayed out in the grass at your side, his head tossed lazily across your lap after he’d complained that he needed at least some leverage to see what you were trying to read.

“Nice try,” you hummed, reaching for your page of hastily scribbled notes. “But you’re not getting off without a genuine apology that easy.”

A week passed in this fashion, with you attempting to string together more and more ludicrous ideas—throwing everything you had at the wall and hoping something, anything, would stick. But Leona’s ears stayed tufted and round. That tail seemed to only grow more twitchy, his claws longer and sharper.

You sent the Hunter another letter and waited anxiously for a reply. When it arrived the next morning, Leona snatched it from your pigeon before you’d even made it out your front door. It was a miserable sort of day—pouring rain and with nothing but the grey cloud cover overhead to color the world.

He read it over once, twice, before dropping it to the ground. You could see the tendons twitching along his jaw, could practically hear his molars grinding in his frustration.

You plucked the note from the grass and looked it over carefully.

‘Mon ami, while I am loathe to address this, perhaps it is not the make of this trap at all that is causing such a vexation? Is there any chance that rather than this being a lingering malady, that this friend of yours was simply unable to overcome the initial curse in the first place?’

You glanced back up at Leona, who was intermittently clenching his fists at his sides. You could see the harsh indentations from where his claws were digging into the skin of his palms.

‘Sometimes such things just happen, je crains. The flesh may be willing, but often the spirit is weak. You mentioned this Roi du Leon has a powerful family he may turn to for assistance. Certainly one of them may be strong enough to overcome this curse for him, even if he perhaps is not.’

“Of course it’s all because I’m a fuck up,” Leona snarled. Some of that spitting, sandy, magic of his seeped into the air. It bit at the rain like an overeager dog. You could see it dancing along his skin—fighting to pull his features one way or another.

“He didn’t say that,” you pointed out gently. “And even if you were, there’s nothing wrong with needing help sometimes. Your family—"

“—Would rather I keeled over dead and stopped sullying my brother’s perfect fucking reputation!” he snapped. “Heir to the King’s Roar,” he scoffed. “Stupid. I was never going to be a king to begin with. And even if I had been born first, they would have deposed me to put their flawless, favorite, golden boy on the throne anyways.”

That... That was a lot. You stared at the pacing Lion with wide eyes—unsure how to help, unsure if any attempts to do so would only make this worse. This was—this was so above your ‘happy, homey, hermit’ paygrade.

“Of course this is all because of me,” he hissed, that roiling, angry, arcana coiling around him like curdled milk. The pupils in his eyes flickered oddly from round to thin-cut, hard, lines. Beastly. “Of course it was because I wasn’t good enough.”

“Leona,” you tried, as gentle as you could be.

The Prince threw his head back and laughed. And laughed, and laughed.

“I should have known!” he cackled, borderline hysterical. “I should have fucking known!”

“Leona—” you tried again, reaching out a hand.

Only to be immediately knocked on your ass by an explosion of magic.

You’d heard of self-destruction—of implosion. The arcane wonders of the world were a wily and unyielding mistress. While creatures like Leona who were so naturally steeped in ancient magics and sorcery could control that beast more adeptly than some little mortal like you, it didn’t make them any less susceptible to its dangers. If anything, they had it worse. It was like sitting in a shallow stream versus wading out into a roaring ocean. So much more opportunity, such a higher aptitude for greatness, but far too easy to drown beneath the churning tides of it all.

The inky, geometric, swirls along his arms pulsed like a heartbeat. They crawled along his skin and traced black patterns into his veins. Even you could feel the horrible, dark, stickiness of it—as the magic ate him alive. His face twisted back and forth between human and animal, and you watched him contort and snarl under the weight of it before turning on you with a vicious roar.

Uh oh.

The first wave of magic seared the ground, leaving nothing but strange, grey, sand in its wake. The more he snapped and clawed wildly at anything and everything, the more that dusty desert spread. You managed to hop out of the way of most of it—sparing a single, sad, thought for all the poor plants you’d worked so hard to cultivate dying a miserable, grainy, death.

The next arc of magic shot straight from his clawed fingers, and it managed to catch the flesh of your forearm. It was sharper than any dagger or sword that you’d ever had the pleasure of accidentally nicking yourself with, and it tore its way down your arm like a raging beast, leaving an eerie, tacky, bubbling mess in its wake. And ouch did it hurt—like someone was taking a fistful of coarse sand and rubbing it into the open wound. You ground your teeth against the strange, gnawing, sensation and hastily wrapped a bit of torn fabric around the weeping gash to keep it a bit more contained. You waited for the worst of it to pass, for that initial bite to fade into a more manageable throb. But it didn’t. It just got sharper and tighter, hotter and hotter. For a moment it felt like your skin was crackling—like firewood popping and splitting beneath the weight of a blaze. From across the field, Leona made a noise like a hurricane given voice, and you bit back a groan.

‘Oh come on,’ you hissed to yourself. ‘Not now, please.’

And while you’d been mostly referring to the Lion losing another brick of his sanity fort, your wound seemed to pulse at the command—a sensation not unlike the soft drone of the wards carved deep into the support beams of your dilapidated home, and an impression of words tingling along your nerves without any real shape or form. ‘Alright. Later then.’ Like a breath of wind along your fingertips. That pulsing doubled back, and the wrap you’d hurriedly tied around your forearm hummed low with gentle arcana.

And then the cracking stopped. Just like that. Like it’d given up on eating you alive and decided to head home early for the day.

Huh, you though a bit dazedly, before hurriedly ducking out of the way of another swipe.

You clutched your still smarting but at least now functional arm to your chest, and Leona turned on you and your ethereal booboo with a raging snarl. But then that glowing glare caught on the blood trailing down towards your wrist in too dark, too thick, rivulets and his eyes went wide. It wasn’t much, but the strange bought of shock rocketing through him gave you a handful of seconds of ceasefire. You reached into your pocket with your uninjured hand and pulled out a thick bit of cardstock. This was supposed to be for emergencies, goddamn it! And you’d spent so much money on this stupid little thing! And—

You shook off the mildly delusional complaints bogging down your brain and unfolded the paper between your fingers. The sigils inked into it hummed against your skin, and the rain sluffed off its face like the cold and the damp were no bother at all.

“Fucking—” you flung the talisman at your ridiculous, rampaging, guest. It fluttered like the beat of a hawk’s wings and dove towards him with just as much vicious precision. “GO TO SLEEP!”

The enchantment smacked into his face with an echoing THUNK and you watched those too-bright eyes of his roll up into his head as he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

With the main source of all the Magical Warfare knocked unconscious, most of the miasma began to disperse—like dust caught up in a gale. The rain washed away the rest. It slid into the mud and seeped back into the earth. The plants and animals seemed to give a collective sigh, and some of your more courageous chickens even started to venture in close to peck at the leftover destruction.

You approached the felled Prince hesitantly. The talisman had been meant for subduing an enemy with a more human constitution, so you doubted it would keep him down for very long.

“Hey,” you grouched, poking his side. He twitched a bit but didn’t move otherwise. “Hey, asshole,” you tried again. Still, nothing. Uh oh.

You reached down to wedge an arm under him and hoist him upright. The singed skin of your forearm brushed along his jaw as you attempted to maneuver his bulk, and his nose twitched sharply at whatever scent was trapped in the dark, cracking, gash there. His brow scrunched up like you’d just doused him in spoiled milk, so naturally you went about waving your wounded flesh beneath his nostrils like the world’s strangest smelling salts.

After a moment he blinked back awake, face twisted up into the most properly disgruntled mien of distaste that you’d ever seen on a person who’d only just barely managed to claw their way back into the world of the living.

“Herbivore,” he rumbled, still looking more than a bit dazed.

Good enough.

You manhandled him back onto his feet as best you could—turning yourself into an impromptu crutch to try and get him mobile again. The sand shifted and sank beneath your heels, making dragging his ridiculous, dramatic, ass even more of a challenge. As you hauled him towards your cottage, you complained to him in earnest. Every little irritation under the sun. Half because you’d probably never have another opportunity to bitch at him so thoroughly without getting your own earful of grievances in return, half to keep him conscious—keep him focused on staying here. With you. And not… Wherever it was he’d gone in those moments of delirium.

“I still don’t get why you call me that,” you griped, readjusting your grip on him when he’d started to slide down to the point his nose had buried itself against your collarbone. “Herbivore. I’ve cooked so much meat for you since you decided to crash here. Talked about how I prepare it, and the flavors I experiment with—I literally gave you some from my own sandwich when we first met! That I ate the rest of! In front of you!—”

When you finally herded him over the threshold and into your little cottage, the wards and their protection slipped around him like the soft current of a stream. You hardly even noticed the way the old magics ruffled his hair—and that was only because you were actively looking, half convinced the house was still about to toss up an invisible barrier and send him sprawling back into the dirt.

Leona wobbled on his feet, and his eyes were still too far away and grey.

You grabbed him by the ear and maneuvered his too-tall self into one of your rickety kitchen chairs. The wood groaned under the sudden press of his dead weight, but it didn’t collapse beneath him so it wasn’t worth fussing over. Once you were certain he wasn’t about to fold over sideways and crumple to the ground (or at least, that he was angled enough over a rug that he wasn’t going to crack his head on the stone floor), you rushed off to your bookcases and shelves and began hurriedly rumaging through your collection of nonsense.

The charms, the charms. Where were your emergency charms?! You’d thought you left them right there on the—Ah! There we go.

You pulled the raggedy binder from its place on the shelf, blew away the coating of dust that had settled over the top of it, and returned to your patient.

You flipped open the worn leather hooks and began sorting through the dozens upon dozens of sheets of enchanted parchment within. They were unimpressive—just small, rectangular, bits of faded paper inlaid with the softest kinds of magic. Not meant for much more than coaxing warmth into chilly limbs or placing a soft kiss over a scraped knee. But medicines were medicines—whether arcane in origin or otherwise. If you—if you just doused him in the things, that would probably work. Right? Of course it would. That made perfect sense.

So you slapped the first talisman square in the middle of his forehead. Leona swayed at the wet SMACK of the paper gluing itself to his soaked-through skin, but aside from the faintest, startled, widening of his eyes, he didn’t do anything else to complain. So you stuck the next charm to his cheek, and then another on the opposite one too.

“Magic overuse is dangerous,” you chastised as you went about layering a veritable novel’s worth of pasty, paper, enchantments up his arms. The soft spells worked their way into his skin, and you watched those twisting, black, shapes skitter back up towards where they’d once sat peacefully curled around his bicep. “Are you trying to kill yourself, hah?!”

Instead of snapping back at you like normal, he just sort of… sat there. Accepting your angry accusations in frosty silence. He absolutely looked like a cat that you’d fished out of a bag in the river. Pathetic, and sad, and droopy. And… quiet. So, very, quiet. You frowned, because as much as you didn’t particularly enjoy being insulted every minute of the day, the Lion’s biting little remarks had become… familiar, at the very least. Even if they weren’t entirely pleasant. Even if he was far from pleasant.

The dampness on his skin was starting to curl the edges of your talismans, and you reached forward with a huff to at least pull the freezing, soaked-through, vest off his shoulders. The leather jacket landed with a wet plap on the stone floor, a cold puddle already pooling around all its stupidly intricate, embroidered, edges. Something fluttered out of one of the open pockets—small, and off white, and crinkled. You stepped over the whole mess to retrieve a pile of towels and didn’t give it a second thought.

“Make a mess of my home, why don’t you,” you complained, dropping one of the towels over the entirety of his head before reaching forward to start drying him off with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. “Drip all over the floors I just mopped, why don’t you. Be emotionally constipated and almost turn my whole yard into a sand pit, why don’t you—”

A hand reached out to snag your wrist, and you let him pull you away from your attempts to rub all that stupidly thick hair straight off his head.

From beneath the curtain of the cotton towel, you could see Leona glaring at the long, dark, scratch curling along your forearm. It certainly wasn’t… nice to look at. The gymnastics of getting him into your cottage had managed to displace the impromptu bandage, so the whole of it was just there. Bruised, and dark, and odd looking. But ugly or not, it was hardly bleeding or anything anymore! And he was the one who had almost just self-destructed in your front yard!

‘Think of the accusations!’ you wanted to wail. ‘Can you imagine the garbage I would have to deal with if I wound up with a dead royal fertilizing my garden?! No thank you!’

But before you could complain about his fussing, his claws flexed against the soft skin of your palm and you saw the muscles along his forearm tense—like he was fighting to keep still.

“You should be dead,” he muttered, terse.

You huffed. “Look, I know you think humans are all sorts of pathetic, but I’m not that—”

“You should be dead,” he repeated, sounding as if the words had to tear their way out of his throat—scraping like shards of glass all the way up.

You stared at his dark eyes and dripping bangs—the shadows playing across his cheeks and the strange, hollow, wrongness that had settled over all of him. With a heavy sigh you plopped yourself down into the chair across from his and dragged a handful of the leftover charms your way. Pointedly, you took one and slapped it over the wound. And then another.

“See?” you said, flexing your wrist in his grip to put the creeping, black, cut on display. The talismans glowed softly against your skin and the lingering whisps of darkness licking at the the injury began to fade. “All better. Not something a dead person would say at all.”

Leona frowned, but at least it looked a bit more annoyed than outright bleak. And besides, frowns were better than whatever that stoic, expressionless, numbness had been.

“Though I appreciate your concern,” you grinned, pointedly sharp and prodding. Like a toddler standing by with a stick, hoping to poke out a reaction. “Truly, whatever would I do without the Great Lord Lion there to fret over me?”

But instead of the acidic ‘I wasn’t fucking worried,’ that you were expecting, or even a more muted grumble of dissent, Leona’s brow just pinched in displeasure and your awkward attempts at teasing faded into terse silence.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, almost too quiet to hear—his head low and eyes lower.

You sighed and twisted your wrist around to pat at his hand. There was the faintest tremor in his fingers and you tangled your own between them to give him something to squeeze, something to hide the shiver of lingering malaise that he would no doubt deny with his dying breath. You observed the stern, tight, expression warping his otherwise handsome face—the miserable, puckered, angle of his mouth and the way the emerald of his eyes was cut through with a shadow of genuine remorse. You reached out with your other hand to pet at his soft, round ears. They squished flat beneath your palm and your lips twitched up into a fond, little smile. Leona tipped his chin just enough to glower at you from beneath his bangs with no real heat, and you sighed and gave him one more pat for good measure.

“You’re forgiven.”

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Twst Fantasy AU #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Leona x Reader #Leona x Yuu #Skin-Changer Leona #Ace Trappola #Rook Hunt #Monster Mayhem Leona Part 3

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yokohamapound · 10 months

Text

BSD Boys With a Nervous Flier S/O

For Amulet! <3

(I added Chuuya for me. :P)

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Edogawa Ranpo, Nakahara Chuuya

Contents: NSFW jokes/references, fear of flying.

Dazai Osamu

Don’t bother trying to hide it. Dazai can pick up on every tiny little tell, so unless you’ve got the world’s best poker face, he’ll figure it out before you say a single word. It’s all there, the shrunken pupils when he shows you the tickets, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants when you’re booking the taxi to the airport, the harsh, unsteady breathing when you’re queueing to check in.

For once, wisely, he drops the double suicide jokes. The last thing you need to think about right now is you or him dying, and he’s that much of an ass. Most of the time.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, leaning in and whispering in your ear so it doesn’t carry to the other passengers in the boarding queue. “Guess what?”

You frown, distracted momentarily, and look at him. “What?”

His eyes glitter with mischief, and his smile widens into a full blown smirk. “You know how your ears sometimes pop when the cabin pressure changes? They say you should have chew gum or suck on candy.”

Your eyes narrow, suspicious. Dazai leans down to look into your eyes, grinning.

“I don’t have any candy, but I’ve got something you can su—oww!”

He deserved to have his foot trodden on, really. Dazai might pout, but internally he’s smug that his plan to distract you worked. He’s got plenty more like that up his sleeve.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Flying with Fyodor is something different entirely. With the weight (and wallet) of the Decay of Angels behind him, he would never fly on a commercial airline. Normally he doesn’t care much - he’ll take a helicopter or some other type of solo plane. If he’s taking his precious myshka though, he’s flying in style.

Naturally, he already knows about your fear of flying.

You can take comfort in the fact that Fyodor has literally already thought of everything. There are multiple contingency plans for any conceivable emergency onboard the jet. He has a backup helicopter. There are parachutes. There are backup parachutes.

All you have to do is get dolled up and sit pretty on one of the luxurious recliner seats, being fed little tidbits of fruit and cake and sipping champagne. Fyodor has his laptop out, watching the endless screeds of incomprehensible information, one resting on your thigh, thumb tracing circles into your warm, soft skin.

If you want a sedative, he’ll allow it, though his tone is subtly disapproving. He doesn’t like seeing you passed out (unless he’s been the one to drug you or exhaust you, naturally.) Still, if it makes you feel better.

He has…other methods to distract you however. Ones you’ll learn all about when he orders the cabin crew out of the main seating area and draws the curtains. You’ll be flying so high you might not even notice you’ve landed.

Edogawa Ranpo

Ranpo has an easy solution to all your fears and anxieties—he’s such a baby that you have to look after him and you just won’t have time to worry about the plane going down, because you’ll be trying to convince him he can’t cram a whole gumball machine in his suitcase.

“It’ll fit!”

“You know it won’t! It’s physically impossible. You’re supposed to be a genius!”

“Well, I'm on vacation!”

He’s exuberant and excited to wander through Duty Free and buy all the varieties of chocolate and snacks they sell. Ranpo isn’t getting on that plane without snacks. Have you eaten plane food? That’s simply not going to cut it for the World’s Greatest Detective.

It’s almost…calculated, the way he seems to rush off to a new thing every time your jitters start coming back. Your heart starts to race, your mouth goes dry, and then you notice Ranpo is gone from your side again.

By the time you get onto the actual plane, you’re lowkey exhausted, and he still looks as smug as ever, his bag of chips rustling as he snacks in his seat. He opens his eyes, looks around the plane with that sharp, green gaze, then shrugs and settles against the backrest.

“Nothing wrong with the plane, we’ll be fine,” he declares, tossing a chip into his mouth. “Do you think they have Ramune?”

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya is a well-travelled guy due to his position as a Port Mafia executive and enforcer. It seems as if he gets sent abroad now and then to look after the mafia’s foreign interests and contracts. Koyo seems to stay back more, acting as Mori’s advisor, so it’s Chuuya who racks up the airmiles. He generally travels first or business class, because he’s not about to be back in the cattle runs—sorry, economy.

He’s so used to it by now that booking the flights, packing, and getting to the airport are a breeze. It’s so mundane to him that he’s a little surprised to find out how frightened you are. He has to admit, it’s kinda cute.

He lounges next to you in your first class seats, a glass of wine in one hand and your hip in the other, cuddling you against his side.

“Dollface, what’re you shakin’ for?” he teases, poking you in the ribs. “You forgettin’ who you’re flyin’ with?”

Oh. That’s right. Mr. Gravity Master himself.

“So if something happens, you could stop the plane falling?” you ask, almost in disbelief.

He scoffs. “What do you take me for? You’re gonna be on the safest flight in existence. They should be paying me to fly.”

#Yokohama Pound #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #Nakahara Chuuya #Dazai Osamu #Fyodor Dostoevsky bsd #Edogawa Ranpo #Dazai x Reader #Fyodor x Reader #Ranpo x Reader #Chuuya x Reader

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mythicalviper-fr · 4 months

Note

hi! Thank you for making your guide, it’s been so helpful as a new skin artist. I’m still confused about how to make good festival submissions (?) I thought my submission for Rockbreaker’s Ceremony fit all the conditions you talked about but no one seemed interested in my skin. Do you have any advice on how newer artists can make a good entry?

I'm happy the guide's helped! It is less of a checklist and more on how I personally approach the contest. There are a lot of things I don’t think I described well technique-wise, so I’ve considered making step-by-step tutorials to approach each contest that would better encapsulate the win conditions I described. But for now, here’s one way you can approach a contest, particularly if you’re a new artist.

1. Pick Your Breed (and Battles)

Breed variety, as I stated in the guide, is the Number One reason I win any contest. This is where I think I should’ve gone more into why I favored the Ridgeback F base - it’s important to pick a canvas that will not impede your ability to create and more importantly, a canvas that makes you comfortable as an artist. Ridgeback F has a big wingspace that serves as a good canvas and the anatomy is easy (for me) to design on, which is why this is the canvas I default to.

Here are some of the best “starter” canvases for new artists, in my personal opinion:

Wildclaw M and F: these bases, particularly the F pose, don’t get many submissions (look at their submission rate in the Gala!) They have a standard dino anatomy that’s easy to understand and work around.

Fae M: Fae rarely get entries. The big wingspace is a great canvas, and more importantly, the M Fae canvas is pretty small compared to the others, so it’s less daunting. The shrimp posture can be a bit hard to grasp, but you can honestly just do a wingcent.

Coatl M and F: Coatl is a great base for new artists if shadows and lines are disrupting your creative process, because they don’t have as much of those. (You can also turn shadows/lines off while you’re drawing. I usually have shadows off and lineart at 30% opacity. Just remember to turn them back on when you submit!)

2. Theme Your Skin: Canonical Elements

August goes into this better in his guide, but you generally want to stick closer to canon. Think of skin contests like an art contest for a fandom. If you were submitting to, say, a Percy Jackson art contest, you’ll probably draw inspiration from Greek and Roman mythology, not Aztec or Chinese mythology. Flight Rising is the same. So, here are canonical places you can draw inspiration from:

Past festival familiars and apparel

Existing vistas, scenes, and World Map locations

Artistic interpretations of the canonical lore

If you do want to go outside of canon, my suggestion is to pick a neutral element. This means something that doesn’t have any religious/otherwise connotations, and is still related to the flight. I.e.: icy mountains for the ice flight, different types of minerals for the earth flight, different types of plants for nature. You are making an official item for the site, so work with that in mind.

3. Skin Composition: Balance

Composition is how the elements in an art piece work together. I struggle a lot with it, so I am not the best person to speak on this. What I’ve found that works for me is focusing the canvas on one big thing and putting small elements around it. That big item is usually wings, which is a great neutral component that can take on attributes of different elements. If you look at my skins, they usually follow the equation of skin = 1 big element (wings, bones, crystals) + 2 small elements (gradients, sparkles, butterflies, leaves, flowers).

[RBC 2023 = bones + crystals + rocks] [TC 2022 = wings + gradient + wispy shadow things]

4. Skin Execution: Actually Drawing the Thing

The best part of festival contests is the skill bar is quite low. I am going to contradict myself slightly by saying you do need a basic understanding of how to draw, but aside from that, contests are forgiving if you aren’t an experienced artist. I had six months of experience when I won my first contest and more recently, I was drawing with zero wrist mobility. These are some of my recent skins that were created when I could not render the way I usually do or use line weight.

[TCC 2023 & ROR 2023]

In comparison, here are skins when I could render and line weight.

[WS 2023 & GG 2023]

Importantly, all of these skins won. So that’s why, from my perspective, whether you’re an experienced artist or not, whether you know how to render or not, is not the point.

I don’t want to imply that you don’t need any skill to win a contest… it is a contest, after all. I think what I’m trying to say is: to make the best entry you can, you need to know the skills that complement YOUR art style. It isn’t necessarily the skill difference between artists that determines who wins, it’s how you use the skills you have to bring out the most in your piece.

There is no one way to making good art. And the hardest obstacle as a new artist is finding out what enhances your art style. You may not even have an art style yet, and that’s okay. That’s why it’s vital you continue exploring - which contests are great for.

Again, everything in this post is only what I have personally observed. This approach will not work for everyone, since everyone’s creative process is going to be different. But I hope this is a good bare-bones, structured, guide as to what I personally focus on – and I hope that it’s good for reference, even if the specific steps aren’t helpful for you ^^

#flightrising #flight rising #fr skins and accents #skins and accents #fr guides

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blissfullyapillow · 10 months

Text

┃An Endearing Conundrum

₊˚⊹♡Alhaitham x gn reader

₊˚⊹♡‎wc: 1,712~

₊˚⊹♡summary: Endearing scenarios of your relationship with Alhaitham as you keep him on his toes.

₊˚⊹♡warnings: A bit suggestive. Overall fluff.

₊˚⊹♡notes: A bit ooc Alhaitham (?), kinda but not really. Alhaitham header created by @lovnupe (n𔘓⁩pe) on pinterest. I wrote this listening to Why by Sabrina Carpenter so it was inspired by that. I just find the idea of Alhaitham being in a relationship with an s/o whose a tease/a handful to be really cute. Lowkey radiates crack fic energy. I’m L.I.V.I.N.G for this Alhaitham ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

₊˚⊹♡Main Masterlist

“Turn it back on.”

“It’s too bright.”

His disappointed sigh speaks volumes.

“You’re so…” He doesn’t say anything more. He simply turns on the lamp by his chair, illuminating the previously dim room.

“Nooo.. Alhaitham..” My whine goes ignored as he continues to read. “Why do you need the lights off?” He sounds uninterested in my response, but the way his eyes briefly lift from the pages of his book to glance at me says otherwise.

My heart flips in my chest; Alhaitham looked up from his book to talk to me. He stopped reading his book to talk to me.

What I feel right now surpasses elation.

“I’m tired. I want to sleep but the light is too bright.” I mumble. I sit up from my previous position of lying on my side. I blink, trying to will the drowsy feeling away.

He sighs once more, but he turns off the light. Instead, he turns on a dimmer lamp nearby. “Come here.” He commands. I waste no time in leaving the comforting warmth of the fluffy blankets. I make my way over to Alhaitham, stumbling a bit in the process.

He mutters “What am I going to do with you?” under his breath as I draw near. “What do you mean by that- oh!” As soon as I’m within arm’s reach, Alhaitham pulls me into him. His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me onto his lap.

I get comfortable. I rest my head on his chest, hearing his heart pound beneath my ear. He holds his book with one hand while the other tangles itself in the strands of my hair. I’m pleasantly surprised when he begins to read out loud, and I close my eyes to better immerse myself.

Being held like this, along with the sound of Alhaitham’s soothing voice, is enough to lull me to sleep.

It isn’t long before I start drifting off again. I snuggle further into Alhaitham’s arms, mumbling something incoherent to myself as he reads.

Alhaitham’s fingers slowly run through the strands of my hair, and my breathing evens out as I welcome the warm embrace of sleep.

I vaguely feel his soft lips press against the crown of my head.

♡⸝⸝

Oh how I love Sumeru at night time.

The stars shine down on the citizens of Teyvat, and the moon graces us with it’s beautiful alluring glow..

Too bad it’s daytime now, and Alhaitham insisted on bringing me along.

“Haitham, do you really need me to come with you? I’m sure a ‘feeble scholar’ such as yourself is more than capable of handling this situation on your own.” I groan when Alhaitham pays no mind to my words. His hand continues to drag me along gently by the wrist.

“This feeble scholar requires the emotional and moral support of his partner. You’d be wise to accompany me.” His explanation causes me to snort in amusement. “My love, you require my support to handle a few ruffians?” I adore the blush that appears on his cheeks when he hears my term of endearment for him.

“..Yes. If you stop complaining I promise to go on a late night stroll with you. You know, the one you keep pestering me about.” Alhaitham’s gruff words successfully serve to motivate me. My hand intertwines with his in silent compliance.

“You’re almost too easy to please.” He sounds smug, but I can hear the underlying appreciation in his voice that he always fails to mask. “Mhm. You know it. Actually, speaking of please.. I have some other ways you can please me. It involves me, you, a bed and-oomph!” Alhaitham’s hand covers my mouth as he pulls my body into his.

Woosh!

An arrow flies past where my head previously was.

My eyes widen in surprise. Alhaitham smirks. “After I handle this I’ll gladly take you up on that suggestion.”

Oh, my heart.

I lovingly admire Alhaitham as he verbally insults his assailants intelligence and very existence, down to the minute detail.

I swear I see physical hearts as Alhaitham effortlessly kicks one of them down in a flexible, suave move.

I hope he’ll show me just how flexible he can be later.

♡⸝⸝

“Can we please turn the air conditioner off?” Alhaitham’s monotone voice only serves to irritate me.

“No, sweetheart. I get too hot when it’s off. Although.. I admit I am a bit cold with it on.” Alhaitham’s currently lying on his side, facing me under the shared warmth of his fluffy blankets. His face is really close to mine, so the incredulous look he makes looks even funnier.

“Y/n, why would you want to keep the air conditioner on if you're cold? Logically, turning the air conditioner off would only serve to-” “Just cuddle me already you nerd.”

He sighs in dismay at my interruption, yet he indulges me anyway. I smile as his strong arms pull me into him, a pleasantly familiar feeling.

“You bring all sorts of ‘excitement’ into what should be an easy, simple life.” Alhaitham grumbles. His complaint is ignored; I opt to nuzzle my head against his chest in favor of responding.

“These are my favorite pillows. So soft.” I almost wish I could see his face as I squeeze his pectorals.

Actually, I can.

I look up. I’m blessed by the sight of flushed cheeks and parted lips as Alhaitham stares at me. He seems to be at a loss for words. “Y/n you actually… I.. Archon’s know you drive me crazy...” That last part leaves his lips in a breathless whisper that I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to hear. His following sigh conveys that he’s very flattered, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“I love you too Alhaitham.” I melt into him. He holds me tighter. “..I love you too.” “Hmm? Can you say that louder please~” “For the love of-“

My lips part to tease him some more, but he’s quick to capture my lips with his own.

…

Touché.

♡⸝⸝

“Alhaitham I’m HOTTTT.” I purposefully elongate my words as I trudge through the sand. “I know. You’ve told me five times already. Are you going to make it six?” His snarky reply makes me roll my eyes.

“Alhaiiiithhhaammm…” I whine. I stare at the back of his head, drilling holes into it. He shakes his head, choosing to remain silent. We continue our trek through the dessert. Alhaitham’s making me accompany him on another one of his academia related endeavors.

“I’m hoootttt-“ Alhaitham turns around so fast I jump, the quick movement startling me. “If you don’t shut that mouth I’ll shut it for you. Archons, come here.” Alhaitham’s words make me feel hotter than I already am, but in a pleasant way. He moves to stand in front of me before he swoops down to literally sweep me off my feet. I yelp in surprise.

Alhaitham begins to walk once more, except now I’m in his arms. “Do you have any water left? You’re burning up.” He asks. “I drank it alll..” Alhaitham tsks at me. He mutters “You’re my handful all right..” under his breath. The way he grumbles the words makes me shiver.

He maneuvers me to hold me with one arm. His free hand offers me his personal water container.

“Alhaitham.. but don’t you..” “Just drink from it. Please. We’re almost there. Promise.” His words are a bit terse, but the emotion in his eyes is one of concern. I smile softly as I graciously accept his water container. His other arm returns to its previous position. I happily drink from his water container.

“Honestly, you really are a handful. Here I thought I’d be able to live a quiet, peaceful life with minimal inconveniences. Instead I’m in the desert with the love of my life as they complain about being hot every two minutes.” Alhaitham’s words are as affectionate as much as they are chastising.

“Listen, ‘Haitham I… wait.. love of your life?” I inquire. My eyes desperately search his, and my heart pounds painfully in my chest. The air leaves my lungs at the implication of his words. I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t told me that he loves me before, but.. even with all of my whining and complaining.. he still..

His beautiful mesmerizing orbs meet mine head on. His gaze softens as he looks at me. He slowly stops moving forward, and my heart jolts once more as he leans into me. The way his soft lips mold with mine makes this entire trek through the desert worth it.

His lips curve into a delightful smile as we slowly part from each other. “Do you need me to repeat myself? I will do so as many times as you need me to. Although you’ll have to keep your mouth shut for me to do that.” My face feels warm, and a bead of sweat slowly runs down my face as I look at him.

His expression remains one of pure love as he returns my gaze. He uses his hand to wipe the sweat from my face. “You’re the love of my life. There’s no one else I want to spend my life with. You can try to be as annoying as you can possibly be, and I’ll continue to love and adore you through it all. ..Would you look at that. We’re here.” Alhaitham’s words are stated matter of factly, like they aren’t a heartfelt proclamation of his love for me.

He doesn’t set me down; he walks inside with me still in his arms

“This shouldn’t take long. I work fast. Use this time to cool off. We’ll make it back by twilight.” With that, Alhaitham sets me down on a chair. He pulls another one over to sit beside me. He wastes no time in getting to work.

I lean my head on his shoulder as my finger languidly traces shapes on his thigh. I blatantly stare at his face to admire his handsome features, including the small smile on his lips.

He lifts his free hand to reach down towards my hand on his thigh. My eyes curiously follow the course of his hand. As his fingers interlace with mine, euphoria welcomes me into its loving arms.

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #reader insert #genshin x y/n #genshin reader insert #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader fluff #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x gn reader #alhaitham reader insert #I love Alhaitham so much #Bro's simultaneously my husbando & comfort character #I just wanna annoy him so he'll shut me up in the most inappropriate way imaginable #HIS ARMS #HIS BUFF ARMS

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shineonyoucrazyyandere · 2 months

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Hello, I hope you don't mind if I share a weird headcanon of mine 👉👈

I normally see people talking about Kakyoin make drawing about you but what if Jotaro does that too? The reason I have this headcanon because I remember the scene when Jotaro using Star Platinum drawing the fly he saw in the picture, and he draw it so well. It makes me think that maybe Jotaro has talent in art too. Jotaro's style will be realistic style while Kakyoin will be more like cartoon/anime style.

Imagine their sketchbook filling with so many drawing of you 💕 Jotaro will watching you from afar, sketching you with your cute smile, your beautiful eyes, he captured it all. For Kakyoin, I think he will even make up characters (oc) that look like you and him and ship them together lol (this headcanon inspried by my friend, she actually do that with her crush).

Thank you for reading my ramble, glad to talk with you :D I would love to hear your thoughts about my weird headcanon

P/s: Love you writing so muchhhh 💝

This is fun stuff, I could eat it up all day. Thanks for sending it in, so I can blabber my mouth about it

This always internally bugged me so I’m very thrilled that someone brought up how well Star Platinum drew that fly. I suppose it’s kind of easy to gloss over for a lot of people compared to Kakyoin’s scene of painting on that canvas. (Then again that fly was kind of important to identify to figure out where Dio was so then again it’s “???” for an explanation)

Anywho, I’d say signs point to Jotaro being able to draw, and I think it’s a hobby he prefers keeping to himself. Like you said of him having a sketchbook, almost no one sees what he draws in it and he doesn’t want anyone else to see it especially if it’s various sketches of you. So more than likely when he does do so, he’s somewhere where he won’t be pestered by school girls, or whatever punk tries to start a fight with him.

I’d also like to think he goes back and lingers on prior stuff, just staring at it for a little while. This applies usually when you’re out of school sick (which he’ll probably stop by later anyway with or without your knowledge). But there’s something comforting about seeing every piece of your visage in his sketchbook. Literally no one else knows about this sketchbook aside from maybe Kakyoin (Holly has her suspicions he takes a sketchbook around but she smiles not pestering her son on his hobbies as she thinks it’s adorable).

For the most part art wise I think Jotaro sticks to traditional art, maybe a dabble of charcoal but he prefers pencils. Maybe watercolor if he ever went beyond, but traditional with pencil/pen is the easiest way for him to pull something out at his leisure. Would he let you see? Maybe eventually when he gets you where he wants you, or if the cat is out of the bag early and you see it and you’re not quite with him yet. Let’s just say seeing that may speed up him taking you.

Kakyoin I could definitely see diving into the oc type of thing, he’d certainly reference an artstyle of a manga you like. (Don’t ask how he figured that out so quickly). Though he definitely loves putting some passion into his artwork and occasionally shamelessly make sultry artwork of you and himself. He loves painting the most as he spreads colors, mixing them into the wondrous hues that is your skin tone. Or splashing watercolors in a notebook, that looks something out of a fairytale. Soft and warm lighting….oops he’s getting a tad bit excited.

He definitely presents pieces that are obviously meant to be stand ins for the two of you. That no one else would ever be wiser too, yeah you might have this odd feeling something’s not quite right, but there’s nothing there you could really prove other than observe just how pretty the composition is. If you compliment it, that just fuels this man’s desire further.

Biggest takeaway here is Jotaro and Kakyoin very blatantly have their own styles whether sticking with black/white/grey, or full on color. Both would be pretty in their own right, and their style choices speak of their personalities without saying a single word.

#yandere imagines #yandere jjba #yandere jjba imagines #chitchatwithcrazyyandere #yandere headcanons #yandere kakyoin #yandere jotaro

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sketalya · 7 months

Text

Finally I can draw my favorite OTP TwT

💙Edward x Emily💚

•

The story about the relationship between them is kinda long but I have tried my best to shorten it, so here it is:

• Long before they became lovers...Emily and Edward were just best friends. And at that time Emily had strong feelings for Thomas, she did everything she could to convey her feelings to Thomas. She even competed with Rosie, who at that time also liked him.

• But as time went by, Emily found out that Thomas actually liked another woman (That was Lady). And because she's tired of competing just for unrequited love...Emily decided to give up and let Rosie, who still didn't give up on her feelings (Rosie still didn't know that Thomas liked Lady at that time)

• She maybe looked fine but actually she still felt heartbroken until one day Edward noticed that Emily looked different from usual and asked if she was okay. And because Emily thought she could trust her best friend, she told Edward everything that happened. Edward listened carefully and let Emily pour out everything that was in her heart.

• After all that, whenever Emily was having a bad day she always took the time to meet Edward and tell him everything (That's because he is a good secret keeper). Of course Edward didn't mind listening to her, he even always tried to make Emily tough again and sometimes gave her advice if she needed it.

• They're slowly became closer and were seen together more often than before. Until Emily realized that she felt comfortable whenever she was with Edward. (Can't blame her...He's kind, gentle, wise, a good listener, and has a sweet smile). Emily quickly realized that she was now in love with him, unwilling to fail like before. Emily decides to be more confident and confesses her feelings to Edward. Didn't care about the fact that Edward was older than her and probably wasn't interested in a romantic relationship like that.

• And yeah...It wasn't easy for Emily because Edward always rejected her. Not because he didn't like her. But Edward wasn't sure whether Emily really had feelings for him, He always thought. "Why did she choose to like an ordinary guy like me when there are many guys who are much younger and handsome out there?"

• When he asked Emily about that. She said, "It's because I can...I feel comfortable whenever I'm with you and I like everything about you! It's okay if you still reject me today, there's still tomorrow and you have to know that I won't give up this time."

That answer actually made Edward quite surprised, he didn't expect that Emily would be really serious about that.

• As time goes by. Emily really didn't give up until finally Edward started to feel the same way and decided to accept Emily's feelings.

• At the beginning of their relationship, they were both a little awkward and their relationship also has to go through many challenges...Their age difference that makes it difficult for them to get along with each other, Edward doesn't seem very good at understanding women, Have different ideas about how a date can go well, Emily always decided something without listening to Edward's opinion first, People commenting about their relationship....Actually there are still many other things, but fortunately they both always learn from their mistakes, they can get through it all with good communicating and being open to each other.

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

Okay...Now let's talk about their dynamics:

• Every week, Edward would come to see Emily and give her a bouquet of flowers. A simple classic gift but Emily always looks forward to it every week because she really likes flowers, especially if they are from her boyfriend.

• Sometimes Emily tries to tease Edward, hoping to see him blush and be embarrassed, but Edward often doesn't understand and misunderstands that. So it turned out to be difficult for Emily because she had to explain it to him.

• Bossy big sister figure who talks a lot x Calm big brother figure who listens more often

• They're usually always hang out somewhere after work just to tell each other about their day. Sometimes they also gossip about the trouble that Tidmoud bois had caused that day.

• Emily is one of the lucky person besides Thomas, James, and Percy who knows that Edward is very skilled at singing and playing violin. Of course since she was his girlfriend, Edward wouldn't mind playing music for Emily as long as no one else saw it. (Edward still feels insecure about his skills even though there are 4 people have said he is talented)

• They acted more like a pair of besties than a pair of lovers...But that wasn't a bad thing because they can got along with each other well.

• There is a funfact...Toby was the person who helped them both when they first started dating, so sometimes Emily and Edward would also ask....or maybe...force Toby to come out with them.

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

Bonus:

• Emily every time she tries to confess her feelings to Edward

• And this is Toby who just wanted to help at first but ended up being stuck with them all the time

•

And btw....In my AU, Edward is Thomas' foster brother...So somehow I can imagine that Emily rlly said, "If you can't get him then get his big brother 👍"

•

#Sorry if this one is too long TwT #ttte human au #ttte humanized #ttte #ttte emily #ttte edward #ttte rosie #ttte thomas #ttte toby #ttte shipping

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gypsypendragon · 6 days

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Well Hello there, have a Law.

So I've had a bit of time to really zero in and focus on getting comfortable in MY own personal style without trying to copy or mimic "correct" styles of characters and anime and comics etc. I've arrived at a place I am actually really happy with. That being said, I've definitely got to do a lot of sketching and practice with it in order to cement it and not revert back to trying to mimic things that are "correct" style for whatever I'm working on. What does that mean you wonder? well:

I'm going to be posting a lot of these head shots of characters both oc and fanart wise. They are quick and easy for me to do and helps me really practice features and details on character's hair and face etc.

I'm going to be posting a lot more OC stuff. I have a ton of different concepts that I really like working in that are my own design, but there are two or three of them that I would actually like to be able to do things with in the future. I hope yall stick around and enjoy them even if its just a character or a drawing from the concepts.

There's going to be an influx of random stuff. I know this was mostly Arcana and Heart Pirates, but that's because I get stuck in a "i have to be a dedicated to this one thing blog" in order to get any traction. Not true. And I know this, but I'm an idiot so. Pokemon, Marvel comics/heroes, AUs, games... there's going to be a bunch of random coming in so buckle up

Regardless of where this goes I hope yall stick around and I'm just happy to be able to share stuff with such awesome people.

#heart pirates #trafalgar law #one piece fanart #one piece #heart pirates law #artists on tumblr

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urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites · 17 days

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Give me a description of your appearance, personality, hobbies, and what fandom you want and I’ll match you with a character in my fandom range!!!

ooo this is so cool! thank you btw!! uhh im an indian teenage (14-15 though i look younger) girl and she/her presenting. im very easy to tell im indian. i have brown/tan skin and dark brown eyes. i have black curly hair but the tips are dyed a dark red. my face shape is pretty sharp, heart shape i think?? and people say i look like a cartoon? i have bangs that curl and swoop across my face though they fall straight across my forhead when straightened. I'm very energetic and it shows. Im bouncy and fidgety and easily excitable. I'm very friendly and silly, and just chaotic in general. I'm an ENFP and fit like all the stereotypes and everything. Or if you know Owl House, I'm exactly like Luz Noceda. I care a lot about my friends but im not sure if i show it enough? i come off as a lot at first and am very awkward i like to read! and hang out with friends! adventures and exploring and doing things im not supposed to FIRE AND NATURE AND OOO ANIMALS i live and love adventure and will break the law with you i also like to write, though im not very good at it. I doodle sometimes for fun. Crafts are fun too! I bake when i have time but i mainly hang out with friends <33 Any character or fandom! this is just a really cool idea and seems fun! so thanks for seeing my super long ask ( i blabber a lot lolol) :DD

Your Fandom Ship: Leo Valdez (Heroes of Olympus)

Lucky mf

Explanation: first things first I think that he would love the way you look in your heart shaped face and would totally make some friendly jokes about it if you were comfortable with it and if you were insecure, he would stop doing that. He definitely makes jokes about how you’re the more attractive one in the relationship. You both are quite similar personality wise and I think he would complement each other really well because Leo is always cracking jokes. He’s a chaotic mess and he’s just full of so basically a background story is demigods in general are supposed to have ADHD and dyslexia, but even for a demigod, Leo is off the ADHD charts, you get the idea. (He built a freaking flying ship and used a Nintendo switch controller to control it) he’s also a bit of a dork and awkward at first or at times so I think you have that covered and he’s a son of a Hephaestus (the builder/forging God from Greek mythology) and he literally has fire powers so if you like fire, he’s your guy. I think he would totally sit down and write goofy things with you or sketch little doodles with you as he’s often sketching and his own notebook not drawings as much but more outlines for building things but good luck trying to bake with him because it’s just going to end up being a huge flour fight.

#urlocalnonbinarybastardwritesanswers #hoo #Leo Valdez #leo valdez x oc #leo valdez x reader

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sensitiveheartless · 1 year

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hi, I just wanted to drop in and say that I don’t know what it is about your art and writing but on my absolute worst days it seems to be the only thing that makes me feel the slightest bit warmer. maybe not better exactly but warm, idk how to explain it. uh. the point is I don’t know what special ingredient you put in your works but. it’s working. please keep doing it! you’re really awesome and I hope you’re doing ok, at least compared to earlier.

(also maybe a bit of a weird note, but I tried making soup from scratch a few months ago when I didn’t know what to do with myself. it turned out absolutely terribly which was disappointing and surprising seeing as everything else I’ve tried to make has come out decently well. After a dramatic month where I swore I would never touch soup again, I kept experimenting and a few days ago I made one that was half decent - a nice spicy broth with lots of vegetables. I probably wouldn’t have tried to make it if it hadn’t come up so often in your works, which I know is a bit silly but the idea of making soup as a comfort thing got stuck in my head and what do you know? it was comforting. and a bit rewarding too haha. I already decided I’m making more tonight.)

god sorry this is so long and probably way more to throw at you, a stranger really, than I should have, but I guess I just wanted to let you know? as much of a cliché as it is, sometimes little things really do hit in all the right ways.

I’m going to be so embarrassed after I send this lol

quick! send it send it!

Anon you will make me cry (in a good way!), this is so sweet and honestly really encouraging to hear ;; I’m really happy the stuff I make has helped you in any small way, and I will continue to do my best! :D

I have been slower with making things lately than I’d prefer — I have a couple chronic health issues that’ve been flaring up and making things difficult, especially energy-wise. But drawing and writing always help keep me going, so I’m absolutely gonna keep on keepin’ on! And I hope the stuff I make can keep helping you in little ways <3

(Also congrats on the soup success!! Making it from scratch isn’t easy alskdjfj I still get a bit paranoid I’m gonna mess it up when I’m making it by myself, particularly the spices — like I’m gonna put in way too much or too little and ruin the whole thing, but luckily it’s always a bit more forgiving than I expect. More to the point, I’m so glad your efforts paid off! My comfort-soup fixation encouraging you to keep experimenting is so fun alsksjdjfj that is not something I was expecting to ever come out of the stuff I make but it’s awesome! :D)

(Also here is a soupkoku doodle channeling my weird thing with worrying about spices)

Hope you have a lovely day today, anon!✨

#bungou stray soup #why not I’m making that a tag now #it’s soupkoku time #bsd #ask box #my art #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs

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drawingducktalesducks · 1 year

Note

You make great art!

Your opinions on Vi’s alternate designs?

I could stare at her all day. Perfection.

Design wise? Her final one is (chef's kiss) SUCH a good balance of showing and contrasting Violet’s personality.

And the alternates show why!

She’s a nerd. Shorthand for that is usually glasses, as seen in almost all her alternative designs. (Think Velma from Scooby Doo.) Not a bad trope.

But at the same time, does her character need a visual short hand for smartness?

Just the way Violet SPEAKS tells you she’s a nerd. She uses big words, and calls people by their full names. When we first meet her it’s in a LIBRARY and her and Webby instantly start switching between various ancient languages.

We don’t need glasses to know she smart and a nerd.

So unless the show is willing to commit to some moments or gags where Violet loses her glasses / takes them off specifically not to see something / cleans them regularly as a character tick (think Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer), Conservation of Character Design says get rid of them.

Which the show creators did.

(also her introduction scene includes Quackfaster, and I appreciate that, instead of them both wearing glasses- a thing that isn't actually about smartness literally it's just wanting to be able to see- the thing Violet shares with the Terrifying Librarian is... hair tie / hair band, including the color thereof.)

(It's a more personal choice. And it's message is "Practical")

Next is clothing style. Most of her alternates have a more fancy, ‘outfit’ kinda look to them. Like this is something she put together to get a specific Look. Nothing wrong with that. Nerds can be fashionable (Ellie Woods queen thereof).

But… there isn’t anything in Violet’s personality, story, or situation that connects to that idea.

Her things are Books, Learning, Forbidden Magics, Honorable Conduct in Contests and Duels, Adopting Stray Shadow Teens Off The Street As Her New Sister, Brining Pie To A Sleepover, Smacking Invading Moon People With A Spiked Mace, and Using Tibetan Breathing Techniques To Survive Eating Three Bowls Of Deadly Hot Spices In A Row.

The closest she gets to caring about her appearance is when her and Webby (and then her and Lena) put on gruesome costume make up and prosthetics for fun.

So a snazzy outfit, while cool, doesn’t really… jive with the vibe of Violet Sabrewing.

Nerd clothes, like a vest, isn’t needed the same reason glasses aren’t. Also the details would be a pain to draw over and over again. Even Webby’s clothes don’t have that much little bits in them.

High collars again look cool… but Lena’s already got that covered. Stand them next to each other, and where’s the contrast?

Violet wouldn’t “pop” next to Lena if they had that on top of Violet’s dark color scheme and Lena’s dark sweater.

Wearing the same thing (to show characters are connected to each other) works best when either the color or the style DOES contrast sharply

(Huey Louie Dewy and May June wearing basically the same thing as their siblings, but in very different colors)

(side note I’ll make a separate thing for someday: Lena and Webby with button down collar shirts worn under something, but with different style, effect, and colors)

The leggings are seen on two of Violets alternates and I think that got picked for Meta Simplicity and also In-Character Practicality.

They’re athletic, the kind of thing that isn’t at risk of snagging on stuff (befitting an eventual Senior Junior Woodchuck), and the dark color balances out with her hair. And they’re VERY easy to draw. Very good!

Sweater.

Sweater with turtle neck (unless it’s one of those very loose ones) usually gets used as shorthand for “Comfort over Appearance” (Velma again, contrasting Daphne)

And in this case it’s a contrast with Lena who LOOKS like she doesn’t care at first glance but actually has put maybe the most effort into her outfit (sweater stolen from favorite band, dyed her hair, wears bright colored converse in a world where most people go bare foot)

and Webby, who is wearing basically a uniform (picked by her Granny or by herself while daydreaming of experiencing Normal School Things???)

So to balance out Lena’s rebel teen punk look, and Webby’s prim and proper look, Violet has a comfort and practicality look.

BUT!

They kept the eyeshadow.

A VERY GOOD MOVE.

See, eyeshadow on someone who wears an ‘outfit’ (Lena, Daisy) says fashion minded and image conscious.

(this includes Beakly the former spy taking up the role of grandmother).

Eyeshadow on someone who wears a non-snazzy turtle neck and legging with her hair tied away from her face in a simple ponytail says something else completely-

It says, Violet likes eyeshadow, and that is the ONLY reason she wears it.

Either she doesn’t notice that it’s unusual to do this, or she doesn’t care.

THAT is showing her personality.

If it’s that she doesn’t know it’s unusual, then that fits with her in the Woodchuck Challenge not knowing about smack talk until Lena teaches her, and in Friendship Hates Magic brining a pie to a sleepover, and in The Split Sword of Swanstantine wondering in the middle of a fight if she should change in to more occasion appropriate clothes instead of, you know, running.

Smart yes, savvy to social norms? Not so much.

If it’s that she doesn’t care, then that fits with her direct and blunt way of getting what she wants out of situations, never mind others' objections-

-Instantly running to Webby’s loft so she can see the picture of the demon lord and confirm the crookedness of his fang, repeatedly pressing for using the runes to try contacting the shadow realm despite Webby’s nervous boggle deflections, happily employing smack talk so she can learn it properly without stopping to ask what it’s effect on her competitor might be..

So the clothes of her final design all work really, REALLY well telling new parts of Violet’s personality, without just repeating what we’d instantly know from listening to her talk for half a minute.

Hair.

One of her alternates has loose floofy hair, which I imagine is what canon her would look like without the hair tie, and it rocks.

But the hair tie is kinda important.

Violet isn’t a book nerd who never leaves the library- She’s active, she gets in the thick of things, she’s happy to jump in a fight, and she’s a Junior Woodchuck. Practicality, again, makes more sense. Keeping her hair out of her face works with her character.

Her little flop of bangs is really fun to me too because… well…. It reminds me of Lena.

Again, it’s different enough to pop while the two stand together, but it’s there. Lena has flopped bang thing. Violet has a curly bang thing. They are sisters. It’s cute!

Also helps her silhouette stand out more against Webby and Lena, who’s hair is pretty smooth and down in general. Gives her this sharp thing that moves around and makes her extra easy to pick out, even when you just see part of her head. Important for a main side-character.

If you're going to add detail, add it to the silhouette -> very big visual payoff.

Colors! COLORS!!!!

Already mentioned the pants balancing her hair nicely, dark on top, dark below, but then there’s her eyeshadow and sweater!

They ALSO tie her with Lena!!!!

Lena’s shirt, hidden under her sweater, is pale blue- the same color her friendship magic is later- it’s the color of Lena being happy and being connected to people.

And Violet’s eyeshadow, is also blue? And Lena’s eyeshadow is purple! Like Violet!

Eyeshadow! That thing both her and Lena wear, them the Sabrewing Sisters, but Webby doesn’t!

That’s so cool! That’s a way to show a connection between them AND their personal tastes, before they even become family! And once they ARE family it helps them visually LOOK like one!

Also, Violet’s green sweater?

Again we’ve got the color contrast compliment thing (huey red dewy blue louie green) this time with Team Magic: Webby pink, Lena blue, Violet green. It helps them feel… individual in scenes they’re all in frame together, while also making them look good next to each other.

The choice of all of team magic’s colors to be either more pastel or duller than the Primary Colors Trio also lets all six of them work together visually, like in Nightmare on Killmoter Hill.

But again, LENA.

Lena has two other bright colors tucked into her design, aside from her pale blue.

The pink in her hair (visual cue to Webby) and her lime green shoes. Green. GREEN. It’s enough of an important color for it to ALSO be in her friendship bracelet.

And it’s the main color Violet, her adopted little sister, wears.

Oh my heart….

Finally, it’s looks like they tested out ideas of Violet being some kind of, parrot maybe, or wren, or such.

I love her being a humming bird for one very queer reason.

Female violet sabrewing humming birds are actually green, not purple.

And Violet.

Is purple.

Just like her dads.

(also name puns for the win yeeeeessss)

So on the whole, looking at the designs Violet could have had, I guess I’d say they’d make nice occasional outfits for her...

but if you’re going to make her an important supporting member of the cast and if you have to draw her over and over again, almost always with the same other two characters… and if those characters are Webby and Lena...

Then they picked exactly the right design to go with <3

#Ducktales (2017)#Violet Sabrewing #character design meta #Sabrewing Sisters #Lena and Webby mention #i love her i love her i love her i #everything about her design presses the happiness button in my head

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