popping in to say a few kind words about your art because i never viewed your art as cutesy pretty much ever? i never saw your style is just. cute. and p much anyone who says that has a very shallow way of defining art styles
i admire your style of art so much because of the unapologetic saturation and vibrancy in color, the way you utilize them has so clearly been practiced and curated careful even when you might just have been fuckin around. your sense of color has come to a point where im pretty sure its just instinctual, but even then the attention to detail of how light bounces and how they interact with other colors is nothing less of a very talented skill.
this isnt even mentioning your understanding of form makes me want to Gnaw On My Furniture, you make it look so Easy with your linework. its so gestural but also so compact at the same time-- theres this narrow line you tend to do there there is so much clarity in a silhouette but at the same time it doesnt feel like a posed model, its just a photograph taken. the naturalism is so fantastic, i FEEL like im seeing a snapshot into a world that does not involve me and thats good.
honestly its very upsetting that people chalk up your work valuing nothing more than fanart because there is so much MORE youre clearly doing with style study, color and photo study, research into animal behaviors/biology/interpreting realism into stylized shape and form. frankly, it is a Disservice to you that people think you arent... i dont know deserving to express your goddamn feelings????
anyway this is a long way to say i hope people will stop being shitheads to you n you can find those shitheads to block fully and entirely bc they clearly arent the attentive appreciating target audience they think theyre being
HEEHEE... thank you ...... I love 2 hear detailed thoughts on my silly ocs and such .. glad you're enjoying them 👍
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I've had this Dreaming The Proposal AU sitting in my drafts for a while. Then @voukkake comes out with this art and I figured it was time to brush off the dust and share what I'd written lol. This is seriously all I'm going to write so if anyone is interested I'm begging you to pick this up. I'm dying to read Dream awkwardly interacting with Hob's family (also @valiantstarlights suggestion that Betty White is Destiny?? ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT). Anyway...
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Dream is about to be deported because his visa application has been denied. He is in the middle of a meeting with his lawyers when Hob, his secretary, pops in the room to inform Dream of a very important phone call and Dream comes up with the insane plan to marry Hob to keep his immigration status.
He gestures for Hob to come over and Hob, clueless, wanders into the room and stands next to Dream, who takes him by the arm and tugs him just a little bit further to stand awkwardly close.
Dream announces their engagement and Hob stands there, shell shocked and feels his mouth moving against his will. That yeah, they are getting married. They are in love, sure. It isn’t until they leave the office, following Dream back to his, that Hob’s brain seems to come back online.
“What just happened in there?”
Dream grouses, head down, already back to his work as if nothing happened. Like he didn’t just use Hob as a pawn in his scheme to get around his denied visa application.
“They were going to make Morningstar editor-in-chief.” Is all Dream says, disdain dripping from every word. He still hasn’t looked up.
Hob stands there, still as a statue. His head is swimming with words, with emotions. Anger, disbelief, betrayal… and a small tiny flicker of undeniable interest that he hastily stomps out.
He manages to put the pieces together rather quickly though, while Dream continues sifting through paperwork.
“This is illegal,” Hob manages to croak out, brows furrowing.
“Oh, please. The government looks for terrorists, not book publishers.” Dream’s head is still down in his paperwork.
Hob blinks, taking a step up to Dream’s desk. “I'm not marrying you.”
“Sure you are.” Dream sets aside a stack of papers and finally gives Hob his attention. “Because if you don't, your dreams of ‘touching millions of lives with the written word’ are dead.”
Hob’s jaw drops. That was a line, corny as it was, that he’d used in the panel interview for this job. Three years ago.
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“Were you not in that room? I could get fined, I’ll go to jail over this. If you want me on this deal, you will promote me to editor.”
Without even glancing up from his phone, Dream scoffs.
“Absolutely not.”
“Well then I guess you’re screwed. Buh-bye.” Hob turns with a flourish and has to bite back a grin at how Dream splutters behind him and grabs him by the arm.
“Fine– fine! Editor.” His face seems to go through the five stages of grief. He drops his hold on Hob.
“And You’ll publish my manuscript.” Hob throws in. In for a penny.
Dream’s brows narrow and he shakes as if he’s physically controlling the urge to stamp his foot.
“Sure. I’ll publish your hack manuscript.”
“Good.” Hob slips his hands in his pants pockets, staring at Dream, deciding on one last nail in the coffin.
“Now do it properly.”
Dream cocks an eyebrow. “Do what properly?”
“Propose. Like you mean it.”
Dream’s entire body seizes up, but he manages not to let it show, distracting himself by slipping his phone in the pocket of his expensive slacks and clasping his hands in front of him.
“Will you marry me?”
“No.” Hob, the arrogant bastard, is visibly biting back a smirk. “Say it like you mean it.”
Dream takes a long, steadying breath through his nose.
“Hob Gadling. Will you–”
“And get on your knees.”
Dream absolutely refuses to decipher the thrill that shoots through his body at Hob’s command. Instead he keeps his mask of irritation and indifference on as he scans the crowd around them. They are still outside the courthouse, and the concrete sidewalk is going to potentially tear Dream’s Hugo Boss black wool pants.
So he carefully lowers himself, scowling as the smirk on Hob’s face only widens as Dream slowly settles onto the ground.
Once he’s as comfortable as Dream’s going to get, he clears his throat.
“Hob Gadling,” he glares at his subordinate from under his lashes. “Will you fucking marry me?”
Hob curls his lips in mock consideration, looking up past Dream’s head. He rocks back on his heels and nods with a forlorn sigh.
“Okay.” He still hasn’t met Dream’s gaze. “Could've done without the sarcasm but it will do. See you at the airport tomorrow.”
And turns and walks away, leaving Dream to fend for himself on the ground.
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