I was wanting to try doing an art piece in the style of the signature spell poster art pieces you create. But I’m not really the best at coming up with a composition for such a thing.
Do you have a process for how you come up with the compositions for them?
oh, awesome! it is an INCREDIBLY enjoyable style to work in; I hope you have fun with it! :D
I'm not great at putting my thought/art process into words, so my apologies if this doesn't make a lot of sense, but I'll try! my first step is always to do a LOT of thumbnails to figure out both the idea and how I want to show it; not trying to do a real sketch or anything, just little doodles to figure out what exactly I'm trying to portray. (I also call these "garbage passes" because they're not meant to be any good, they're just there to throw things out. aha. ha. ...anyway.) I think it's important during that first stage to really focus on the idea and the layout and not to get too bogged down in the actual drawing yet!
I tend to save my final thumbnails, so I'll use 'em as examples (I posted the ones up through episode 5 here if you're interested!) (and, uhhh, spoilers through episode 5 also in this post, hopefully that won't be an issue!)
the main thing I try to think about in composition is balance -- not necessarily in terms of symmetry, but in where each element is placed and how much space it's taking up. remember, empty space is still space! it's also really important to think about the parts that don't have anything in them, as much as the parts that do!
personally, I like to divide things up roughly by both halves and by thirds -- there's a lot more in-depth info out there on why the "rule of thirds" in particular works well visually, but in short, our brains tend to focus on things that are placed closer to imaginary division lines, instead of in the exact center of an image. so even when I'm doing something that is very centered and symmetrical, I try to keep that in mind and generally aim around those for landmarks like faces/eyes (or...where they would be, anyway) and other focal points.
it's not a formula of "the character's face should be in this division of this grid" or anything, more like "our minds like to focus on these areas, let's think about how to use that", if that makes sense! and of course rules are made to be broken, art is lawless anarchy, and so on. but it can be a good starting place for deciding where you want to put things!
(blue - thirds, red - half)
and against the finished versions, because they do usually end up changing a lot (including the empty space of the border):
(...these actually lined up a lot better than I thought they would. :') it makes me look like I do things way more intentionally than I do.)
other stuff I just try to keep in mind is that our eyes like following arcs and paths, which can be a good way to guide the eye:
and frame and control the focus:
honestly, composition is one of those things I feel like I struggle with a lot, so I'm not sure how much of this is helpful or actually makes sense outside of my head. but hopefully it helps a little! it's all just stuff to think about while drawing and not anything hard-and-fast, so don't, like, stress out about making sure things are lining up exactly on the thirds or anything. again, it's more "our brains think these are the dopest parts of the rectangle" than anything else! take advantage of the cool parts of the rectangle!
NOW GO HAVE FUN DRAWING seriously though, it is always super cool that other people like this idea and style enough to want to do it themselves and for other/their own characters! thank you! ❤️❤️❤️
428 notes
·
View notes
how do you think the lis would respond if mc sheepishly asked if they could fondle their tiddies? (even mhin, even though i KNOW they'd shank a bitch.)
Here ya go, Anon!! :3 They pronouns & non-specific language/MC used. Suggestive, but no other warnings.
AIS:
Pretends he doesn’t hear them.
“Hmm?” He holds a hand to his ear, a toothy little smirk on his face, his scarred eyebrow raised. The way he’s making direct eye contact is an unmistakable challenge.
“You wanna what now, Sparrow?”
He knows exactly what MC said and they can tell. He just wants to see if they'll say it again. They didn’t sound so sure about whatever that request was just now…
His smirk grows when– (if?? But c’mon he’s so clearly saying yes, please) –
His smirk grows when they don’t back down. He spreads his arms out in invitation, haori splaying open.
He’s patient for as long as he can stand once they get their hands on him but it isn’t long before he finds himself grabbing them by the wrists, pulling them closer. Pressing his palms against the back of their hands to encourage them to make full, firm contact. Haven’t they been warned? He’s awfully greedy.
(And: if he purposely presses their touch against his heart for a moment, no one needs to know but him.)
VERE:
He gives them a blank look– a look unsettlingly similar to his hungry, flat eyed stare. Though, it’s gone in an instant–so quick they might even be able to convince themself that they imagined it. One blink and his entire expression is different, his tail swishing elegantly and with a flourish that can only be described as pleased.
“Well,” he purrs, “aren’t you just adorable? I did tell you to ask next time you wanted to touch… Very well then. I’ll reward your ability to follow simple instructions.” He relaxes luxuriously into the cushions of the divan that he’s resting on. “Come along, then. Fondle to your heart's content. Don’t leave me waiting.” He beckons to them with a crooked finger, tempting them closer, a haunting echo of their first meeting.
Survival instincts be damned…he did give them permission…
He breathes a chuckle out as they touch him, his mouth hot against their ear as he buries a grin into their neck.
In the space of another breath, he’s flipped the two of them, leaving them pinned against the divan.
“You didn't think you were getting a single thing for free from me anymore, did you? Tut tut. After you treated my generosity so callously before? From now on, I’ll be expecting payment in kind. Quid pro quo, darling.”
KURAS:
He looks at them, eyes crinkled with amusement. “Am I to take it that your interest is academic? Studying anatomy, perhaps? I do have a few select texts I could offer you which you might find quite beneficial.”
The embarrassed look on their face seems to amuse him further, the corners of his lips tugging up as he takes in their expression.
“Of course, the benefits of a more hands-on method of scholarship should not be overlooked.” He takes pity on them, beckoning them over as he takes a seat on the doctor’s stool, right next to the cot where they first met him. He neatly removes his coat, folding it and laying it to rest beside him. Despite their fears, he doesn’t start listing out the anatomical names for things as they lay their hands on him. His eyes slip shut as they rest their hands on his shoulders–he’s still so tall, even sitting on the low stool–sliding their hands down, admiring the sturdy form and shape of him.
His own hands come up, clutching around their waist with surprising strength. His eyes are bright and intense as he looks up at them. They expect him to say something but he merely squeezes them–Possessively?–
Like he might be able to trap them in this moment with him forever, through will alone.
He closes his eyes again; his grip loosens. His self-control back is back in its necessary place, and he finds himself repentant.
“Forgive me. You are quite endearing. I simply find you…difficult to resist.” He admits.
MHIN:
You are so correct anon. Shanked immediately. But MC bonks their head into Mhin’s chest on their way to the ground, so… Achievement Unlocked? Or, for MC’s sake, I’ll assume that they have earned a level of trust/intimacy with Mhin that makes Mhin a lil' less likely to get stabby.
Mhin’s eyebrows furrow as Mhin crosses their arms, physically creating distance between MC and their…
Mhin’s cheeks go a little red as they realize how obvious their body language is, their pale eyes darting to the side as they worry about what other things they’ve accidentally telegraphed to MC. How many of Mhin's true thoughts and feelings are they privy to...? Shaking themself mentally, they quickly snap out of it, pinning MC with a pointed glare.
“If you value your life at all, you’ll never ask me that again.” Mhin marches away. “Staying at the Wet Wick–around Leander–has ruined your brain. You need to get out of that place while you still have some grey matter left.”
. . .
Later, escorting MC back to said Wet Wick, ducking through the lesser known and narrower streets after a long day of following dead ends together, Mhin finds the thought ruining their own brain. It must be the heat of MC pressed against them in the alleyway, the comforting, all-consuming scent of them, the memory of MC’s flushed face while they were asking Mhin’s permission... MC’s much braver than them, Mhin thinks bitterly, so much more willing to let themself have what they want, despite their cursed hands. Mhin sighs, stopping abruptly. Turning. Pinching the bridge of their nose.
“Look–you can–”
Mhin feels themself blushing all the way down to their chest. They open their mouth and close it a couple of times, attempting to articulate what they want. They make a noise of aggravated frustration. Carefully–very carefully, and very slowly, so that MC knows exactly what they are doing, they reach for the bandaged hands at MC’s side. They rest MC’s hands lightly on their chest, shivering as they feel the brush of fingers against their clothed ribs, thumbs pressing into their sternum. They bite down a noise that would surely make them perish where they stand. Stars above, how long since–
“...Does your heart always beat this fast, Mhin?”
“Quiet.” They snap.
Wow Mhin. Right there in the alleyway huh? Well ok then. I see what ur about.
LEANDER:
The two of them are alone in the room at the Wet Wick, just sitting together innocently on the bed when MC asks.
Well–they try to ask.
He hears them start the question and his coat and shirt (and tiddie belt) are coming off before they can even finish. He gives them a quiet chuckle, blushing as his shirt(s) get caught at his shoulders.
Though the perfect way it frames his boobs might convince them he did it on purpose…
“You meant skin to skin, right?” He laughs again, leaning back on his hands and looking entirely too appetizing–is he arching his back a little more than necessary?
“I don’t mind at all! Though, if you could help me with…” His eyes crinkle as he smiles at them, head tilted like a puppy, waiting expectantly.
They get up from the bed to help him discard his remaining topmost layers of clothing, standing above him in order to better assist. His eyes are pinned to theirs the moment the fabric barrier is fully cast aside. “I…can’t say this is a bad view,” he admits, eyes roving along their form, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Then, more sincerely: “I’m glad that you asked me for this. Don’t be afraid to touch, all right? Nothing bad will happen to me, promise. Remember: whatever you want.”
They find themself feeling along the edges of his scar, tracing the line of it across his pectoral… His breath catching when they accidentally scratch him a little with their nails (MC is just a little clumsy–that was completely unintentionally, really) is dangerously addictive.
“Ah... Anywhere else you’d like to touch? It would be a shame to waste this opportunity…”
If they're feeling shy, he could offer a few suggestions. He really, really wants to help in any way he can. :)
BONUS!ELYON: “You can, but I will have to charge.”
66 notes
·
View notes
@naturecalls111 prompted me kevaaron + procrastination and was like ‘post grad’, meaning they’re not undergrads if it’s canonverse, & something abt the phrasing latched into my brain so we ended up with this vaguely professor au w/ the flimsiest excuse for a TA-adjacent situation ever instead. idk. as ever this was just for her texts & i’m coming off a 30hr migraine so pls forgive me LMAO <3
“I can see right through you,” Kevin murmurs.
“Oh, yeah?” Aaron challenges. God, he’s close.
“Mm,” Kevin says. “You just don’t want to mark the test.”
It's an accusation, but there’s no censure in his voice. He's amused, mostly; fond too, despite himself. It’s not exactly behaviour he should be encouraging, but—
Aaron huffs. “I never want to mark a test,” he points out. “Undergrads are fucking stupid. Or these ones are, anyway.”
“You were an undergrad once,” Kevin says. He very determinedly keeps his hands steady on the bench. Maybe he’s gripping the edge so he stays in place; so what? That's between him and whatever God Renee believes in enough for the both of them.
“These ones,” Aaron repeats, scoffing. “Anyway, I'd never have taken a history paper. Get real.”
Kevin can’t help the frown there. “History is fascinating,” he argues. Aaron scoffs at him again, but the way he watches Kevin runs counter to that. Like he’s listening to whatever Kevin says, regardless. “It is,” Kevin insists again, clearing his throat.
Aaron's gaze tracks the movement, eyes following the motion of his throat, and Kevin kind of wants to clench the counter edge hard enough to crack the formica. Jesus Christ.
“You like research,” Kevin says. He keeps his eyes on Aaron, watches as he steps in closer again. “History is an endless study of every mistake we’ve ever made—”
“—So we don’t repeat our forefathers’ mistakes?” Aaron asks wryly. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s a non-starter.”
“No,” Kevin says, shaking his head. “We’re bad at learning. Mostly, we don’t even see the patterns for decades, if not centuries.”
Aaron cocks his head. “Doesn’t that frustrate you?” he asks. “I've seen you watch sports. You get mad if people make the same fuck-up within, like, three minutes.”
An image floats in Kevin’s head, unbidden: the two of them at the sports bar, late one night after they finally convinced Jeremy to go the fuck home because the college wasn’t paying him enough to sleep at his desk to reply to nineteen year olds’ panicked emails at 11:17pm before a midnight deadline. Kevin had been unbelievably put-out by the Astros’ scoreline; Aaron hadn’t cared so much, but had seemed to find great entertainment in prodding at Kevin to express his opinion to a bar full of patrons who strongly disagreed with him.
Do you even care about baseball? Kevin had asked in the end, exasperated. He’d unknotted his tie and slipped off his jacket, heated by his opinions and the game and the alcohol and the way Aaron had sat there, head tilted, that clever mouth of his quirked up to the side like a smirk, like a secret.
Not really, Aaron had said, shrugging. He swished his beer a little. I played hockey at school myself. Before Kevin could get too excited about that—a sport! An actual goddamn sport! that wasn’t only worth watching European leagues for, cough cough Jeremy and Jean and fucking football—Aaron added, I like seeing how much you care about it, though, and knocked Kevin right on his ass, metaphorically-speaking.
That night had ended in a blur: Kevin’s flushed cheeks as he lectured the bar at large about heliocentrism after finishing his grumbling about the baseball, Aaron’s quiet snort and eyes that laughed more than his mouth did, alcohol-sticky wood beneath his feet as he made his way to the bathroom, the taste of Aaron’s beer on his lips, Aaron’s cool fingers a balm against his cheek, his mouth a searing heat burning all the way through Kevin.
Then when Kevin’s TA dropped out because of ‘unmanageable stress’ (which was not Kevin’s fault, no matter what Dan says, she and Matt can fuck off) and he had to scramble to figure out what to do, Abby had offered one of her tutors—but only for marking, Kevin, he has no base in history. He’s just smart enough to use a rubric and willing to help. Between this and Jean’s long-suffering offer to lead the tutorial that didn’t clash with his meetings with his advisor, and even Neil’s unlikely assistance in the form of helping restructure the syllabus, it all seemed pretty manageable. (The history department had quietly come to the conclusion that this was not, strictly speaking, acceptable by university standards, but elected to ignore this information until the conclusion of the semester. As far as Kevin’s been able to tell in his years in academia, this is how things tend to work.)
When Abby showed up at his office with Aaron, though, Kevin's cheeks had gone hot enough that she’d asked him if he was sure he wasn’t coming down with a stress fever. Aaron's face had stayed blank, but his eyes were – amused.
It was one thing when Aaron had been the regular third person in the staff room late at night alongside Jeremy and Kevin, rubbing his eyes as he scowled at whatever it was he was looking at. (Anatomy exams, Kevin found out later.) He’d been mostly quiet, but sharply funny when he’d ended up interacting with them, mostly starting with indelicate snorts at whatever madcap thing Jeremy was saying, then incredulous stares at Kevin’s rebuttal, and finally muttered jabs as he worked the coffee machine and Jeremy laughed delightedly and Kevin stared at him with disbelief and a slow-building warmth in the base of his stomach.
It was yet another thing when Aaron had been the guy he bundled up Jeremy with, the guy he got drunk with for hours in a sports bar, the guy who laughed at him and offered him buffalo wings so spicy that they made Aaron’s cheeks red and Kevin’s lips feel like they were on fire, until Aaron kissed him, tipsy outside the bar, the warmth spreading through Kevin overtaking both the chilly night air and the spice-stained echoes on Kevin’s mouth.
But it was another thing entirely for Aaron to be Aaron, meaning Abby's favourite postgrad and the guy who diligently read Kevin’s syllabus on top of his own work just to better understand the marking rubric and hater of psych majors everywhere. Aaron, with his tired eyes and quiet laugh and complete inability to answer a phone call from his brother in a normal way. (At one point, Kevin had been half-concerned he was ordering a hit—less about the morality or legality of the situation, more in a if you get arrested, I’m screwed again type way—until Neil had shown up half an hour later with lunch for Aaron and Aaron had gone, ugh and Neil had rolled his eyes, spotted Kevin, and turned to Aaron to say, you’re one to talk. Aaron had flushed a little, then scowled and flipped Neil off, and said fuck off, to which Neil said, gladly, then see you at dinner? And Aaron had waved his hand. If you eat your fucking vegetables, to which Neil had laughed, and flipped him off, and walked out. Kevin had stared at Aaron, nonplussed, but Aaron had ignored him, focusing instead on the test he was marking while he ate the sandwich Neil had brought.)
Aaron, with his unbelievably rude opinions about Kevin’s lack of video game knowledge, and the genuinely unreasonable amount of sour gummies he can put away in an hour, and the unbearably soft look he gets on his face when he’s sleepy and huffy and Kevin has gently dragged away whichever test he’s marking or article he’s reading that’s made him so grumpy late at night.
Aaron, who Kevin actually knows now. And likes even more for it, which is inconvenient and inopportune and probably inevitable.
Kevin clears his throat. “People are meant to try and win in sports,” he says. “History is about things that have already happened. It’s a different ballpark.” There’s a moment, and then, “They’ve already lost the battle. I'm not rooting for anything else there.”
Something flares up in Aaron's eyes at that, and he snakes his hand forward, tugging on Kevin's tie. Kevin, hands still holding onto the bench, allows it.
“But sports are about victory?” Aaron asks.
He’s not even subtle about procrastinating, Kevin thinks. He wants to laugh. He swallows a sigh instead, and says, a little warningly, “Aaron…”
But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop Aaron, doesn’t do anything to stop him. Maybe leans in a little, even.
“Yeah,” Kevin says after a long moment. “History, you live or you die. Sports, you’re the best or you’re not.”
“That's a reductive way of looking at the world,” Aaron says, but it’s that tone he gets sometimes, the one where Kevin doesn’t know if he believes it or if he just wants to poke at Kevin a little. Kevin hates that he likes it as much as he does; that he lets it stoke him up, bites at the bit every time.
“You are not subtle,” Kevin murmurs. The tests are sitting on the table behind Aaron, staring up at the ceiling. Aaron's coffee is abandoned, probably cold.
You are not subtle, Kevin says, and means it, but Aaron’s cocked his eyebrow at him, and there’s something a little taunting in his eyes, and he’s still holding onto Kevin’s tie, and something in Kevin loosens. He sighs, and lets go of the bench, tucking his fingers into Aaron's belt loops instead and pulling him forward.
“Is this a sport?” Aaron asks, because he’s a dick and facetious and he knows just how to make Kevin want to shut him up.
“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Kevin scolds, and then leans forward to kiss the rebuttal out of Aaron's mouth.
48 notes
·
View notes
I know this is beating a dead horse at this point, but I just started thinking about this the other day and...
How many people that were previously enemies has Sonic ACTUALLY befriended?
Like my knowledge of some old games and the handhelds ain't great, but...
There was Knuckles, who I think is the only one in the classic era.
He never really befriended Gamma in SA1, just left him to Amy.
Also he didn't befriend Chaos, just beat the anger out of him.
The next one was Shadow in SA2, although they're still kinda rivals?
I don't think Rouge counts in SA2 since she wasn't really an enemy of Sonic specifically, even in Heroes it's really Sonic and Shadow that start the fight.
Gemerl is a robot who was reprogrammed to be friendly, I wouldn't count that as "befriending someone".
Him and Jet are rivals in every Riders game, this never changes.
Blaze in Rush is someone that fought him and they became friends, so it's clear cut, she counts.
Silver in '06 does as well.
Do we count Shade from Chronicles? I think she had a boss fight. I know very little about that game but it's not canon, right?
Merlina is kinda a grey area? Like they were friends, he stopped her evil plans and was still nice to her. I don't know if in context that meets the criteria.
On top of that I don't think the Knights of the Round Table count. Sonic is there to take the swords and they work together at the end. I don't think there's any hard feelings, but don't know if this counts as "friends".
Sage could be the next example, but she's still loyal to Eggman. I don't think what they briefly shared was friendship as much as Sage wanting to save Eggman.
I haven't played Superstars but Trip doesn't even have a bossfight, does she? I don't think she counts.
Not looking at the method, just purely if they became friends down the line. Out of all of those, there's 4 total (if you count Shadow, which I do) with 1 it's complicated and 1 non-canon. That's very few when you consider how large the game cast is.
An overwhelming majority of his friends weren't ever hostile with him to begin with, like the Chaotix, Amy, Tails, Cream, Emerl, Big, ect. There's plenty of other cast members that are still have him on their shit list, like Eggman, Infinite (if he's alive), Fang, Metal, Eggman Nega, the Deadly Six...
Now I'm starting to wonder where this idea of it being a frequent even came from.
126 notes
·
View notes