so a non-welcome home related ask and i'm sorry if you already answered this before, but what got you into dragons? i'm slowly stalking through your tumblr and i can't help but admire how beautifully and effortlessly you draw the scaley fuckers (/pos) ✨
i've actually never gotten this question, so this is a delight! allow me to Overshare about this
i became interested in dragons at an early age - like, kindergarten / 1st grade age. i don't remember exactly how it started, but i think it was my fascination with dinosaurs, oddly enough? i've loved those guys since some of my earliest memories. it wasn't a big leap from "giant 'lizards' from our past" to 'even bigger mythological 'lizards' from always". the Hobbit and the first Temeraire (im trying to get my hands on the full series now actually) were read to me at this young age too, and the only parts i remember are the big dragon scenes lmao
i do know the ball Really got rolling with the first How To Train Your Dragon movie, which i saw in theaters in 2nd grade. INSTANT obsession with dragons. i'll never forget how it felt to see Toothless for the first time. but in general, i couldn't get enough of em. i made my own dragon manual, i got the Dragonology books, it was the whole enchilada!
then in 5th grade, i stumbled upon the newly released Wings Of Fire: The Dragonet Prophecy book! immediately fell in love with it. and its what pushed me to start actively pursuing art! and also what pushed me into my first online space: ~Deviantart~. i saw all of the amazing art of my favorite dragons and wanted in on it. i can actually pinpoint the main person who's art i loved and found inspiration in: someone named Liighty! i don't remember their user, it's probably changed in the many years since. i loved their stuff and wanted nothing more than to be able to draw like them
long story short, i've been in love with dragons for the majority of my life. HTTYD and WOF have been my biggest inspirations and fuel to the fire, and my first delve into the internet pushed me to start drawing dragons (specifically wof) like my life depended on it. i haven't looked back since!
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Send me ‡ for my character's reaction to yours climbing into bed with mine || Accepting !
@holoharbinger sent: ‡ [ how's that for a yay ]
Vaggie is pretty certain that she has never been this drunk. Back when she was in Heaven, she indulged just once a year, after each Extermination, and that was it. Of course, since taking a permanent residence in Hell, her alcohol consumption had increased exponentially, but she has always been careful not to cross a certain line. It's not that Charlie would have minded, but she doesn't want her girlfriend to see her in an undignified state.
She has to be worthy of the princess, in any moment, in any situation.
Of course, all of this doesn't apply to Vox. She can't care less about how wasted she is around him, especially since he's just the same amount of drunk. So, he has no room to judge her.
That said, this still wasn't how she thought her night would end. She didn't think about it twice when he offered to take her back to the Hotel with his limo. She isn't exactly in the best conditions to walk or fly all the way back home.
However, the TV demon must have been drunker than they both had thought too, because somehow he had given the driver the wrong address and they have ended up at the Vees' tower. The flashing lights hurt her eye and she squints all the way inside the hall and then into the elevator.
Are they going up? Down? Good question.
In the back of her mind, the former Exorcist knows that she shouldn't be here. This isn't the Hotel and the bedroom she finds herself wandering in isn't hers and Charlie's. Everything is too slick, too modern, too flashy. Still, there's a bed and it looks comfy as fuck, and she's wasted and exhausted, so in that moment this is good enough.
With a groan, Vaggie falls face first on the mattress rubbing her face in the sheets before crawling forward until she finds a pillow. Lord, this feels amazing. She's going to sleep for a whole day.
Another sound of complaint leaves her throat as the mattress dips next to her, forcing a hint of awareness into her. She blindly stretches an arm out, trying and failing to push the new extra weight away. Of course, it doesn't budge.
How fucking heavy is this guy?
The thought flashes in her mind, too quick for her to make sense of it, especially since resignation sinks in even faster. She wants to sleep and if that means that she has to deal with an extra body? She'll suck it up and do it.
With a muffled huff, she lets her arm fall down. It hits something too hard to be the mattress, but she can't be assed to move it again. Instead, she fidget in her spot, seeking out the most comfortable position.
Her head ends up pressed against an unfamiliar shoulder, something that, under other circumstances, would have made her jump away, but not now, when she's already dozing off. Instead, she snuggles against it, curling up a little on her side.
Come morning, she'll be grateful that she has been the one to follow Vox home and not vice versa. If they had passed out at the Hotel, someone would have surely walked in on them, and she won't even want to think what the others would have said, finding her in bed with the Media Demon of all people, half presses against his side, her arm thrown across his chest.
Still, she will so regret being a snuggler in any case, that's a given.
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