rhosavirgoart

[rhosavirgoart]

Ch.3 Pg.11

And that's the current batch of edited.

If you're still here after literally 5 years absent, thank you 💚

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[rhosavirgoart]

Ch.3 Pg.10

Nobody wants Wesley's hugs

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[rhosavirgoart]

Ch.3 Pg.9

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[rhosavirgoart]

Ch.3 Pg.8

If I wait until its perfect it will never get done. So, we will work with what tools I have available to make this thing work.

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[rhosavirgoart]

New favorite face

I am slowly still drawing btw, just have to actually get scanned and edited and drop a pile of like 6 pages before vanishing for another 4 years

[rhosavirgoart]

Reblog to let your followers know that despite your current obsession your previous obsessions still exist and are simply lying dormant until they awaken and strike again

[rhosavirgoart]

happy whumptober

I can't personally stomach the extreme ends of whump anymore, but I'm glad that they existed and continue to exist Examining why I became sad at certain fanfics helped me get around dissociating the second I tried to think of trauma thanks to all the fanfic writers out there

[rhosavirgoart]

@voidwhump here. The drizzt fandom does a bunch of whump fanart but rarely tags it as such so here's a very nice blog that I came across

blorbo from my ttrp novels

somehow, every time i draw him he looks more moe but i cant help myself..

[rhosavirgoart]

Oh hey! I have that book, but more importantly, Ilya Kaminsky came to UNO while I was attending and I was able to see the showing of various artists there. A definite privilege that I keep thinking back on fondly. Was very good.

Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

[rhosavirgoart]

Okay, more lovely dovey engagement photos I have been sketching

[rhosavirgoart]

I'm alive, and I'm better now than I've been at any point before in my life. I'm sorry to have dropped off the face of the earth, but at least nowadays I can say I want to remain alive and be honest about it. The bad thoughts went from nearly constant, to daily, to a few times weekly, to a few times monthly. I doubt they'll ever go away completely. But ya know. My brains a drunken bastard roommate that I've learned to live with.

Side note, I HAVE been doing art and stuff it's just not anything related to my tumblr.

[rhosavirgoart]

Some whimsical art of my dnd groups DM. Was fun to get back into art after a long time. Watercolor and gouache.

[rhosavirgoart]

But make it iesin

can fae honk

...oh my god this is delightful

anon i learned about bird vocal structures today bc of you! i assumed they just had a different type of larynx but NOOOO, did you know birds don’t have a larynx like other mammals, they have a unique organ called a syrinx? no other animal has one! 

SO, since fae can produce bird sounds that means they must have a syrinx. and since they are much larger than the average bird there wouldn’t be any inhibition in the size and airflow of their syrinx to say that they can’t honk. 

..........i am forced to conclude that yes, fae can honk 

[rhosavirgoart]

Elves, with thier heightened senses, would probably come across as fairly autistic in general. Sun? Too bright. Whispering? Too loud. Any texture that is not enjoyable? Torture. Good texture? Pure bliss. Must touch all the good things. Why is the phone charger screaming?

That is all. God i need sleep.

[rhosavirgoart]

Mermay Day 16, Marooned

  From @amonthofwhump mermay prompt-list

   Isle of the Damned this place was called in the invaders' tongue; it's old name had long faded from living memory. A deeply cursed place where heinous acts were committed, so vile as to wake the goddesses and call them here to make it cease. When the sisters were done, only this barren mound of rocks and sand remained, soil that would suffer nothing to grow. Sparse, crumbled ruins were all that remained of a civilization literally erased from the world. The bones of many people lay strewn about, brittle and beaten by weather and sea. Too new to be left from that ancient catastrophe.

   There was a morbid tradition among wicked sailors to leave people on this island to die, to let them thirst or be driven to suicide rather than do the dirty blood-letting themselves. A superstition that the goddesses would not hear the blood-cries of their children if they were left to die by their own hands or nature running its brutal course.

   She could have risen these bones to serve her, had she even the strength to stand. Clothes drenched in blood and salt water had nearly dragged her under for good when rough and calloused hands dumped her over the bulwarks. Now "safely" ashore, exhausted and wounded, she'd thought herself luckier not to have surfaced at all.

   An arrow sank into the coarse grey sand beside her, quivering in finality. They didn't even give her a knife to end it quickly. Just an arrow with a blunted tip. An arrow not even good enough for gulls, shot from the safety of the ship as it lifted anchor and caught the wind. Cowards. Cruel, ungrateful cowards.

   Antonia Earthwile stared up at the dark, rumbling sky that had sealed her doom. All the healing in the world was never good enough. Would never have been good enough. When the tides turned, the fishing dried up, suddenly it was her fault. Her gifts were decried as unholy and the bastards tossed her aside.

   To the Isle of the Damned. As the Invaders called it.

   Not even sparing a knife.

[rhosavirgoart]

Someone's in TROUBLE

(A short story was involved and may or may not ever be shared)

[rhosavirgoart]

Is done now, and delivered.

WIP of a commission. Colored line art is fun.