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Because I like to bring pain and suffering to our KCD chat, I kicked the figurative door open one day and proposed that, what if, Henry wore armor for the suicide mission, so Hans would be the one helping him into it - and how it would make it crucially clear that it would be the only thing keeping Henry alive if it came to it. And how Hans couldn't do anything else than pray that it would all be enough. And the idea just stayed with me, with the allmighty lord Capon, who never did anything like this to someone else, and how it would make their roles very much reversed. On top of all that angst, of course.

So. That led me to draw this, hopefully you enjoy it!

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Excellent news! These Chub Loons caught fish!

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Whats up on ESO why are people requiring my character about the worm cult WHAT DID THE KING DO *AGAIN*??

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This game has not only resurrected my will to draw but straight up dug it from six feet under and slapped a new soul into the whole thing

So, uh, I guess kudos to these two sad boyos for what it's worth, me drawing serious comics about anything is probably one of those hell freezing over moments on top of that

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WIP WEDNESDAY .𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.

have a lot of wips this week and zero power to finish any 💀

tagged by @sigmaelxgr , thank you for keeping me motivated!!! (also without you id had no idea the whole week had already passed adfgdafgfdg)

tagging @sunsettemplar @mmigrainee @iravaid !! ( ∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩)

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i love it when two adult men have a homoerotic teenage girl friendship and falling out

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My Inquisitor Lavellan

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More actual things that happen in the 1897 Dracula novel without context, as people kept pointing out things I'd missed:

The entire plot happens because Dracula is a teaboo

A character proposes marriage with a scalpel in hand and keeps playing with it throughout the conversation

Dracula roasts a chicken

A vampire bat (not a vampire) somehow drinks enough of a horse's blood to cause the horse to collapse

Dracula gets smacked in the face with a shovel

After attributing nightmares to paprika consumption, a character eats more paprika for breakfast

The heroes hire a locksmith to make their home invasion look more respectable

To prepare for raiding a vampire's lair, one character brings three small dogs

A character laments being unable to wed multiple people at once

A therapist starts speculating about elephants' souls mid-session

An official cause of death is written as "misadventure in falling from bed"

Dracula has a Krampus-esque sack that he shoves children into

A character realizes that his host has no reflection but is more concerned with shaving than investigating that

A reporter brags about his running speed mid-article

Dracula, while trying to maintain a low profile, goes by the incredibly subtle alias "de Ville"

A character is misled by phonetic spelling

A character receives three marriage proposals in one day

The SPCA tries to adopt Dracula

A doctor refers to a patient as his "pet lunatic"

We are told vampires can be defeated by putting branches on their coffins

A character gets slashed at with a knife and loot splatters on the floor, like a video game NPC

Dracula is a horsegirl

A character brings anti-vampire flowers but doesn't tell anyone the purpose of said anti-vampire flowers, which leads to another character moving them and enabling a vampire attack

A character's hair turns from dark to white literally overnight

Twice in the novel, Dracula says "Bah!" The second time is his final line of dialogue

There's a deleted scene of Dracula lying on top of the protagonist and licking him for hours

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not to be a killjoy but it's still crazy to me that it's considered mean to be like "maybe you should read / play / watch the source material before creating fanworks and diving into the fandom" bc every time i see somebody going "i havent played disco elysium or know anything about it tbh but uwu here's harry and kim kissing" idk maybe you should engage with it. maybe you should play the anti-capitalist surrealist game where you investigate the murder of a mercenary who led the gang rape of a foreign girl and process that for a bit? and then you can do cutesy mlm or whatever idc. but like at the absolute bare minimum you should understand what the source material involves otherwise we get the phenomenon of people joining a dragon age server and wanting content warnings for like, mage racism. like it's fine to ship and transform the genre into whatever but if you arent comfortable with discussions of the actual source content itself then maybe the fandom isnt for you and a different one is. peace and love.

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Damian sketch page for a friend who really… really likes the guy

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Enjoying indian food more than any else yet having the soap-taste coriander gene is a eros thanatos experience

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more people need to give themselves permission to write and draw pornography

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WIP WEDNESDAY I got tagged by the lovely @sigmaelxgr Thank you for the tag! <3 I really enjoyed reading your work. ^^ ~I am currently setting up two of my ink drawings for aquarell painting, making a base with black tea. One day I might even finish them. :D I will tag: @maxyvert, @elavoria, @yamikuruku, @janonna-art

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WIP Wednesday

tagged by @sulphuricgrin @sigmaelxgr @moriche and @madam-whim!

tagging @snowy-weather @pocket-vvardvark @lambasi @unironicallytes if you want to!

it's getting to be that time of year again where I'm probably going to be pivoting my focus to more irl house things. goals for this year are:

fun!: building a greenhouse :)

less fun, but necessary: building a more suitable workshop & materials storage (not that I don't love my plastic folding table in the driveway, and having to get up on the world's jankiest ladder to store lumber in the hottest, sketchiest attic, but yknow... I have the technology to make some improvements LOL)

but apart from that, I have started on a tes gala piece!

as soon as I saw the theme my brain went "90s high fashion whimsigoth" so that's how we got here. I've always associated asha with mephala and donobhan with namira so I thought doing something with them and incorporating those motifs would be fun :) also here's some inspiration pics for asha's look:

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WIP Wednesday

Hello! I just came back from a beautiful trip so I couldnt respond to the latest tags. Thanks @yansurnummu for your kind support ; this time I have a whole BLOCK of writings to share. I hope it makes justice in english to my version... I'll be tagging @captain-of-silvenar @anne-wild @yansurnummu @lokorum for the next turn. <3 <3 let's get into it (hope you'll like, it's LONG)

v v v

The first vapors summoned the crash of water. It rose in his ears as the fumaroles penetrated his nostrils. When they reached his throat, it took a simple roll of his irises to detect, below the dark stone staircases and craggy rocks, distant moaning gleams. Beyond the thick drizzle generated by swift water fighting ebonite, a black iron plate, engravings, like feverish fireflies seen through damp glass. Above the milky-blue sparse steel, the sound of distant wailing from will-o'-the-wisps. Another breath allowed his pupil to guess more - the dark opaque red of his closed eyelids was etched with increasingly distinguishable images. The bramble-covered blaze on the platform; the crimped skulls beneath the surface; the cloths that embalmed the exhumed corpse - and, finally, perfectly aligned with the scent of the Sanctuary, the smell of clammy slime indistinguishable from putrescine.

He pushed the mutinus incense away from his nose, then exhaled its remaining moribund odor through his mouth. It had time to deposit its bouquet of carrion on his taste buds before finally dying out under the pinch of his fingers, which ruthlessly crushed the stick's border of embers. No normally constituted mortal appreciated the fetid, dripping flavor that some called “Gasp of Bal". The fumes may have been mere gas, but their passage through the bronchi carried with it the deliquescent mucilage of death and drowning. It was a necessity - kept headlong in a bath of odors that flooded both lungs and skull, a healthy mind would soften, gradually anesthetized by the illusion of running out of air. With practice, in the same way as a dream, one could remain lucid in this pestilential half-sleep; concentrated so hard on associating smell with memory, one could summon with sufficient willpower the precise visions of places already visited. Precise visions of spaces where one had already drowned. The precise places where Molag Bal had, in his presence, exhaled his sticky breath.

“Is it your work?” he finally asked. - Mine? No. It's been a decade since I last dipped my hands in the pool below the waterfall. - Who, then? - I don't know…”

Sangre was never helpful when needed. There was nothing to expect from him. Molkhun knew this, but every further attempt to invalidate this assertion and give him a chance proved an inescapable failure to his eyes. It was painful, agreeing with this being who wasn't interested in anything - in anything interesting, to him.

“However, it's possibly Adelstën. - Does the Vampire know how to use his magical meridians? - Not that I know of, but who else? From your brief visions, the garden looked tended to me, he's hardly the only one who knows how I arrange it. - Are you telling me that on his far too much free time, your upyr indulges in the pleasures of landscaping? - Absolutely, murmured tenderly Sangre. - Have you noticed anything else, apart from the way your salads are lined up?”

He pondered as their hands slid a curved metal batten into a bag; his crowbar, faithful colleague to the pickaxe, hammer and chisel. The indispensable equipment of a profaner in search of raw material, little minded to blacken the underside of his short fingernails, which Molkhun kept perfectly filed, with little regard for the arduous decoration work Sangre deployed when he was there.

“Hm, no…” finally replied the latter. But this smell isn't as strong for me, it doesn't remind me of so many things as it does to you. I can pretty well handle it.”

Molkhun hiccupped in disgust before the other continued.

“By the way, are you sure you need to take all this junk with you, back to Shambhala? - I'm planning to make a detour via Eastmarch. - Are you planning to reach Threshold?”

He wrinkled his nose at his excessive curiosity, tied the bag then slung it over his shoulder, over the long, thin, needle-headed shoulder pads that signed his outfit with obvious Telvanni influence. “Are you going to Threshold..?” Sangre repeated with concern, but Molkhun left the cottage without a word, heading for the roads around Molag Amur.

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Molag Amur was the birthplace of the three of them, in their too-small, too-peopled, too-closeted envelope. An arid, stinking place, if you listened to the middle child, where no greenery blooms and no netch grazes. Hungry, opportunistic beasts in search of prey or corpses, fearsome vertebrate and invertebrate hunters, treacherous and unpredictable land movements. The Houses inhabitants feared this place as much as they despised it. They had shrouded it in myth and mystery, making it the site of the forbidden mating between Vivec, their foolish false god, and their great ancestor Molag Bal, whose name seized the healthiest of these weaklings with bottomless terror. So they had generously reserved this vast space of unholy revelry for the ashlanders, pushing them back again and again to beyond the edge of the brimstone moors. The progeny of the Unthinkable trod these lands; daedra, monsters and scavengers were joined by this tribe of dark elves, indissociable in the memory of the frail house dwellers from the banquet of horrors that took place there. Vengeful, violent, accursed demons and entities striding along the jaws of fire and stone, the maw of the eponymous King of Rape. Magnus never lit the ground here, so dense was the blanket of smoke. The sky was unconditionally dark or grayish. The asphyxiating heat in the air added to that of the earth - there were few places on Vvardenfell that could boast of being as close to the heart of the Red Montain as the disemboweled lands, seething boils and bare lava of these supposedly lifeless plains. The Redoran and Hlaalu of Suran (ignorant of their own culture) thought this would be enough to eradicate the ashlanders they had defeated so far - but the latter, blessed by Boethia's knowledge, resilience and hardiness, made this harsh way of life their pride. Confident in their ancestry, aware of the age-old lessons taught by wise women and the many ashkhans who would succeed one another at the head of their tight-knit group, nothing could triumph over the will of the Erabenimsun - and though few in number, the tribe's warriors would pose a threat to the tranquility of every housemer who strayed, still centuries later, from their towers of clay and stone. Today, Molkhun would make no such mistake, more aware than anyone that it would be enough to leave the greenery of the Azura coast to be spotted by one of their cousins. Dressed up like one of those idiots from the fungi towers, it would only take one gesture too many for his journey to end here.

It didn't displease him to be descended from those so-called bloodthirsty primitives, those demons, those daedra. It was rare that an idea about them didn't inspire visceral contempt, but this one, about sharing their blood, their ancestors, animated a certain… Candor in him. A shy cheerfulness that had to be kept to the point, tidied up, so that no step moved by tenderness strayed from the path marked out. He knew he'd be no match for three armed scouts and didn't have the time to risk it anyway - he had to reach Bal Ur first, while the Vampire was at it.

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Dunmer way of the long death monk. An ashlander that likes a good chat with her ancestors.

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