This is a blog for creative practice by a 20-something-year-old artist! đ¨
Iâm here to have some fun on my favorite website and throw doodles and drabbles at the wall to see what sticks. Feel free to look around!
But first,
SOME GUIDELINES:
Everybody under 18 DNI
Donât be a creep in the inbox
My work is fine to reblog on tumblr-just donât repost on other sites
In general, never erase or hide my signature
donât claim you made it, give proper credit
Also, Iâm not taking requests, but if that changes Iâll let you know
And everything besides that is just common sense, I hope. Feel free to ask questions or chat a bit about a favorite character if you see something you like.
The Rat Kingâs lips curdle. The Nutcracker glowers. He hears the wet of noses twitching for a scent and the quiet click of teeth as three of The Seven Heads of the Rat King peek their muzzles under the rush of billowing robes. âBow,â says the Rat King. Saliva drips down the lips of head number three.
Saw some awesome art of The Nutcracker online and was inspired to take a shot at it-the Nutcracker and the Rat/Mouse King
Context: you throw on a sheet for your Halloween costume, and adjust it so that youâve got an outline resembling an Ancient Greek; yes itâs random and yes itâs half-assed, but you think itâs fine, all things considered. Ripred notices.
Ripred takes one look at your costume and snorts, âMy, my, whatâs this?â
âOh, shut it.â You pout, flinging out the one, long-draped-sleeve half-heartedly, âI know it looks-â
âHilarious,â smirks the rat, but heâs sidling closer. âLaughable.â
You start to slump, but then heâs in your face. He plops a loving, obnoxiously sloppy kiss to your forehead-his tail comes around to twirl your tassel, twisting it up in your sleeve: âMm-wah!â
You splutter, laughing, âGet off,â Youâre waving him away. âBack!â
You may have motivated him more, because heâs tipping in again and stealing another kiss, than another, and you put a hand against his oncoming weight-even the little, controlled bit of it heâs putting on you walks the fine line between smothering you with affection and knocking you the fuck over-but he always walks it well, and youâre spiraling into a begrudging fountain of laughter. He gets one off under your ear, slimy, chuckling into your bones-is he drunk, âcause he sure seems to be on a high at your expense; finally you pipe up and push in swiftly, planting a gross kiss into the tuft of fur under the dry lines of his scarred eye. You smash your forehead into his to stare into the both of them, wagging your finger playfully, âStop it!â You tap his snout. âOr Iâll-Well.â
On impulse you seal a kiss against the hard seat of his forehead, comb fingers down his fur to a neat point.
Donât ask me how you turn and get away from him after that if youâre crazy enough to try to, because a fun (terrifying) little chase isnât going to happen unless he letâs you (this is Ripred weâre talking about); but maybe he humors you, smiling at you, leaning against the wall, ticking his tail, biding his time.
â10 seconds,â he calls, and youâre already past the stairs. Heâs either off at 9, or takes the time to stretch before a go at 13.
If he doesnât humor you, youâre snatched so fast it makes your head spin-you donât even know exactly how he did it-only that youâre smushed into him and curled up on the floor-talking, once things calm down, in low murmurs. Thatâs a romantically-inclined Ripred for you.
Was watching the Fnaf movie and looking at @justladders amazing Springtrap design so you know I had to do it (with some liberties with the legs because I was not using a reference, and the color because I thought it looked cool-like thereâs weird lighting going on during a fight scene or something like that)
Doodles of Moon and Sun, with designs belonging to @shandzii
Featuring a Y/N trying to properly polish Sun, which-can turn into a bit of a workout when heâs feeling chatty. He seems to be in a particularly good mood today, so better roll up your sleeve Fazbear employee!
Heâs ham, heâs glam, hereâs AM, reflecting. And Ted, drowning in his diva strut.
AMâs design is based off of eggonaleggâs take, with the slanted pupils taken specifically from DekkowAnimâs 3D animation; both eggonaleggâs animatic and DekkowAnimâs animation are amazing and available on YouTube, links under the cut
A rough drabble playing with Bowserâs character hitting a new low after he loses (again). May be OOC.
Massive claws tap tiny dents into his throne, polished to a positively diabolical shine.
The fire behind the throne is forever swimming with the spark of pyrotechnics, the fire flicking ember sprites and ashes. The bleach-white bones lace elegant spikes on a pretty-pink throne beside his, gleaming tantalizingly in the shifting hellfire. And the rock-and-rolling King of the Koopas is acting unlike himself.
Princess Peach has evaded him. Yet again.
He snuffs at ash specks, sending them flying. The King lapses into pondering. The tense silence is pulling like an invisible needle through a wound as it stretches across the throne room, unnerving the two Koopa guards stationed firmly in front of the massive, arching doors. See how they exchange nervous glances? This is unusual. Unpredictable. The Koopa King should have gone through his battle-beaten cycle by now, like a conquerorâs version of the stages of grief: raging, crashing down piano keys, or-at his quietest-sulking somewhere in his private chambers. Soon after, the wizardly Kamek should be called, swirling his staff and magicking the doors open to help along Bowserâs new, foolproof plan to claim the Mushroom Kingdom, steal its beloved princess, and throttle the Mario Brothers. The Koopa Kingâs energy is unflagging, all things considered.
One guard glances and gets a full glimpse of Bowser: his irises burn bright enough to sear. The guard looks away unnoticed, thanking his lucky stars, and resumes playing statue. Heâs not going to be the one dolt who triggers the bomb and gets flambeed.
A slow, string-thin creak of the door-the Koopa guards flinch, and move to glower at whoeverâs waiting outside. Once they recognize whoâs at the door, however, they shuffle quickly to stand back. The doors swing open with a magical puff of air.
There stands the right-hand sorcerer-a golden Koopa peeking with his big glass spectacles and blue hat and robe, clasping the rose-gem staff: the one-and-only Kamek betrays his nerves with a sweaty smile. It seems survival instincts are pulling everyone tight tonight, which is wise considering Bowserâs newest plan to conquer had hinged on a stolen mcguffin called the Orb, supposedly indestructible once itâs been activated and indispensable in Bowserâs scaly handsâdoubling as both a blinding shield around the Koopa Kingdom, keeping away any unwanted meddlers, (from the Toad army to Donkey Kong), and as a teleporter, made for four triesâready to target and teleport whoever the owner thinks of to practically wherever they want: the annoying Yoshi to the dungeons, the Mario Brothers to the magma, and Princess Peach into his arms. In usual fashion, thereâd been an extra twist that shattered the whole plan and unleashed an alarming attack from the enemy, one they barely fended off. Kamekâs extra piece of news is not exactly going to smooth over his leaderâs ire. Briefly, he envisions his trusty broom, of zipping away on air-but he is the Koopa Kingdomâs star sorcerer: heâs not going to shirk his duty, abandon his golden position, not after years of navigating Bowserâs wrathful displays (And anyway Bowser would probably find him if he tried a get-away now).
âHello, sire.â says Kamek.
Bowser is silent.
The Koopa guardâs feet shuffle as the doors are dutifully creaked closed, sealing him in. Clearing his throat, Kamek makes his way to the throne.
âYour majesty,â Kamek bows his head, before straightening, measuring his words. âI haveâŚunfortunate news.â
Bowser hasnât moved an inch. His eyes only intensify with red-hot light.
Kamek bows his head low, his eyes pleading mercy even through opaque spectacles, â...The orb has broken. Weâve tried our best, but the cracks are beyond repair.â Kamek pauses as he waits on a hair trigger.
Bowser sucks in through his teeth. Stretching his neck, he turns to stare sullenly at the nothing off to his side.
Relieved, Kamek continues with renewed confidence, âHowever, the troops are recouping and ready to go, and the ballgown has been salvaged, not a tear on it, perfect for further use. The-â
âDid I send for you?â Bowserâs voice is unperturbed, cool.
âW-what?â Kamekâs voice wavers. Confused, he looks at Bowser. âNo, sire-.â
Kamek cries out and leaps up, up out of the way as the fire ball blasts by his head, crashing into the ground leaving scattered wisps.
âThen why are you here?â bellows Bowser, standing from his seat. His echoes swallow the room in suffocating humidity.
Kamek yelps, backing up, bowing fast every step, âYes sire, of course sire,â His nervous chuckles dribble off the edge of panic-quickly, he waves his staff and one of the massive double-doors pulls open to let him back out, Koopa guards left standing unsurely on the way to do it for him, deprived of their job; his smile stretches as he grips the door like a lifeline. âIâll be out here if you need me.â he adds, before ducking out. Another shimmer of magic and Kamek has slammed the door closed.
âAnd you two!â the Koopa guards jump as Bowser approaches, rumbles jerking the ground with every stomp, âGet out!â
Nodding like bobble heads, they desperately wrench open the door with incoherent rambles of âYes, majesty!â The door shuts for good.
Bowser stands, breathing heavily.
âFinally. Alone.â He turns back, stalking to his throne. He sits, slumping: more grumpy child than ferocious ruler.
A minute passes. Bowser glances at the perfect pink throne, still there and still empty beside him, and tries to summon anger. He comes up empty, feeling hollow. Deflating, he slowly exhales through his nostrils: black smoke and disappointment.
Doesnât she hate you? asked the Koopa Troopa.
Iâd never marry a monster like you, said Princess Peach, smiling and defiant as her golden hair whipped in wind.
Look, Bowser, isnât this getting old? sighed the Toad.
Hot pain throbbed his vision as he looked up through the Toad armyâs cheers rising, the Princess and the Plumbers glaring from astride the green Yoshi.
No, it isnât. Bowser shakes himself off from his darkest melancholy, flings it somewhere deep down where he canât even look at this uncomfortable new scar and straightens.
Heâll get her back-the Kingdom, the victory, all of it. His Happily Ever After. Itâs only a matter of time.
What do missing spoons and blood-red cloths have in common? A ratâs plan for revenge, reader and a broken heart.
Some concept sketches of Chiaroscuro, based off of the illustrations from the book The Tale of Despereaux
â There are those hearts, reader, that never mend again once they are broken. Or if they do mend, they heal themselves in a crooked and lopsided way, as if sewn together by a careless craftsman. Such was the fate of ChiaroscuroâŚâ âKate Dicamillo
