Art by a Harpy

Just a sideblog for all the art stuff.

[sweet-harpy-key]

Intro Post

Hello! I'm Changeling or Harpy. Feel free to call me either. I'm over 25 and under 30, AFAB with no concrete gender.

This is a specialized sideblog for only the art I make-- Mostly furry and fandom stuff. If you like my stuff, and want an unfiltered, more personal stream of consciousness, go on over to @nastylilchangeling as that's the mainblog. I know I'm not the best tagger, so I'm sorry about that, but I hope you enjoy anyway.

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober Day 31: Who I Am

Little more than a Beast, a demon, a doubt, a lie, parading around in a Brujah mask with a Setite smile...

I love characters who are slowly becoming the thing they have lied about being, I love characters who are losing themselves and their pasts, I love characters for whom doing exactly that is essentially a form of slow suicide, I love characters who prey on manifestations of themselves and how they were and deliberately go through the motions of killing themselves over and over and over again until they can finally be sure that they and all the sins they are making manifest are dead and gone and buried, I love characters who haunt themselves, I love characters who in trying to be loved become nothing.

He has destroyed and betrayed himself over and over again, and he has found out that even as he tore himself apart flesh and bone to try and keep his dear brother safe, he made his brother as horrible a monster as he is, too.

You fight for nothing, Tony Conti. You strive for power, and you will get it, and it will cost you everything. When you are looking at the corpse in your arms and the blood on your hands and mouth and the red star rising once more, I hope it was worth it.

... I lied. I hope your heart breaks and your mind shatters and you fall into the damnation you always knew you were walking right for.

I hope it's worse than that.

Man I'm not doing another one of these face splits manually that shit sucked. He's my favorite character and I am beating him against the floor like a psycho bitch with a Barbie. Playing with my touy. FIRST BASE IS AN EMBRACE SECOND BASE IS A BLOOD BOND AND THIRD BASE IS DIABLERIE SO LET'S HIT A HOME RUN, BABY!

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober Day 30: No Way Forward

Available on AO3 as well!

Under a readmore for paranoia, distressing thoughts, thought spirals, unreality / uncertain reality, that sort of stuff. If you have any concerns about your own ability to separate stream of consciousness intrusives/memories/paranoias from your own mind, I recommend you exercise caution.

He can't tell his illusions from reality anymore, they're wholly and entirely real to him, now, ever since he learned Dementation from Jay... Well. We all know what Dementation requires. A derangement.

She wasn't real she had died she wasn't real she had died he had killed her and she was dead she had to be there was no way that was her but yet there she was standing there moving great ritual the damn warlocks always had something planned but she had died how had she been there had he fallen asleep but no he had learned had he learned nightmares gained him new things how did this even—

Get out of the loop-

Falling through pipes that led into tunnels that emptied into the sewers a million rats in the sewers and in every rat an eye and in every eye a shine that all led back to the same thing the same one the same water falling like starlight into the great black new moon surrounded by the things that would sup and howl to see how you what you who you when you why you did did did did did—

Get out of the loop-

Angels watching angels weeping angels breathing why did they breathe when they had already died and what did it mean to watch them watch you watching watching the back they are always leaving looking back can't bring anyone back they won't be right it's not the same don't look behind you don't look behind you it's coming it's coming it's coming look behind you look look LOOK LOOK RUN RUN RUN—

GET—

Coming down like rain like hail like stones who threw the first one why was he here why was he here he should have run better to be hungry than terrified and hungry coming down like God's judgment they had already been judged they were certainly damned and in Hell for there were the pits of boiling mud and there was the foul stench of sulphur and smoke and there was the screaming of the men tortured every day they didn't stop screaming they didn't stop screaming they didn't stop screaming—

OUT—

Screaming roosters screaming dogs screaming horses screaming wheels screaming shells screaming men all together until none of it made sense and it all fell apart into a crystallized moment held in horrific perfect suspension—

OF—

A dream a nightmare there was only a difference of degree for no dream could ever bring about the myriad ecstasy and agony of the nightmare in a realm so fantastic as to be beyond the ken of man and yet at the same time so sublimely sensual and whole in its experience, there was no difference in the nightmare between the real and the fake—

THE—

Find something that is real find something that is real find something that is real that is real that is real that? That is real? Is that real? Find something that is real. What is real? See hear smell touch taste sense care balance worry worry about what—

LOOP—

Back to where you were back to where you were you always knew it you always knew it you always knew it didn't you? Didn't you?

You always knew that I'd win, Michael.

The Ravnos slammed his fangs into his arm and bit, savagely tearing through the cloth.

It caused pain. That was real.

It caused pleasure. That, too, was real.

By being in either of these things, he, too, was real.

By being in both of these things together at once, he could not become more real.

He wrenched himself deeper into the trench he'd dug for himself. The only way out was through.

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober Day 29: Rising Sun

So I have NO word from the Storyteller if this is a True or a Hypothetical drawing, I just thought it'd be neat little Sign of the Times thing.

Da fuck? Dat ain' a sun... 'S govahmen' shit ovah dere. I's gonna jus... Not see nuffin'.

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober 28: A Terrible Loneliness

For all the protection that living in the various shipwrecks at the bottom of Lake Huron provides, it's also terribly lonely.

She doesn't get a lot of visitors, which is fine by her-- But she's very thankful for Tony, and his dropping snacks and Vicissitude projects down into the lake, for her. It's nice to have the news delivered to your doorstep along with dinner, and it's not like he particularly cares if she sips and eats in his boat while they chatter, sometimes.

He's not exactly interested in her, and she's not exactly interested in him, but after she scooped his guts-- Everything below the diaphragm, except the stomach-- out, and put in a proper smuggler's pocket instead, well! Being elbows-deep in someone's intestines while they're okay with it for once gives you a pretty nice working relationship.

So, they call each other friends. And sometimes, he spends a single night down in her air-bubble shipwreck, and asks if he can buy the Angel One yet. (The answer is no. That's her hoard. But she is quite happy to know someone wants her paintings... Even if it's the bastard Ravnos.)

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober 27: Will I Forget You?

Available on AO3 as well!

"Ahhh, shit! Jus' like old times. Ey, you remembah dat shitty lil' sheep trail through da woods?" Tony asked Gio, elbowing him as he grinned.

"Oh, no. Da one with da UXO in—"

"—In da road, yea? Yea?"

"Yes, Tony, I do." Giovanni sighed, and shook his head a little. "You only remind me of it all da time."

"Yookso?" Joey piped up, leaning in.

"Unesploded Ordnin's," Tony laughed; Gio rolled his eyes, and stated 'Unexploded Ordnance' a little clearer, getting a nod from the lightly-confused Caitiff.

"Bombs dat didn't blow, when dey were supposed to." Gio nodded, though Joey gave him a particularly scathing stare for that— He knew what words meant, thanks!

"Dere was dis big, BIG fuckin' uh, five-nines round in da middle'a da fuckin' sheep path we was s'posed ta take— Buncha guys comin' by in cycles an' now we gotta figyah out 'ow ta get dis out oah warn da guys comin' up, when suddenly Sprinkles comes up ridin' hahd from behind us, see. Fuckah roun's da bend, sees alla'us, an' in tryin'a stop ends up crashin' da bike right inna da UXO!" Tony laughed, grinning at Joey, who looked horrified.

"That's AWFUL! Dude! … Did he explode?"

… Only so horrified.

"Nah! Sprinkles was fine!"

Gio… Leaned in, tilting his head a little at Tony, looking almost… Curious. But he didn't say anything; Tony noticed when he was done chuckling, and tilted his head right back.

"Wha?"

"You didn't mention the best part!"

"What, Sprinkles pissin' hisself?"

"No! With Frog!"

"With… Frog?"

"Frog! Da kid who had a mouth dat looked like he was always holdin' a frog in it. Don't you remember? He— Sprinkles crashed into him, and Frog ended up with da UXO jammed in his pack from how he fell. Ended up carryin' it into da woods and pokin' da shell out…"

Tony stared at Gio blankly, and Gio's eyebrows went up as fear crashed over him.

"You don't remember."

"… No. No, I don' remembah dat at all."

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober 26: Troubled Faith

After Delilah died-- Tony called her his Blackbird and his Angel-- See, he went to a Church about it and tried to reconcile his inability to find a way back to humanity with also having loved and lost, and specifically-- She waited for him. She waited for him to come back until the day she fuckin' died. Why wouldn't she ask him back sooner? He sent her so many letters...

The angel must have known he couldn't be saved. And if his angel knew... Doesn't that make him damned, already?

NEW FOLKLORIC BLOCK/BANE GET: RELIGIOUS SYMBOLS AND ITEMS OF FAITH!

So you know, he had his gold crucifix on, like any good guy would... And wouldn't you know it, but as soon as he came to the realization he was already damned, that shit began to burn. So he threw it across the room into the ceiling in his desperation to stop taking aggravated damage and had to get Gio to take it down for him lmao

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober 25: The Spirit World

Featuring Halligan, this time in her monstrous form! Because we're playing V5, the Storyteller let this be her Zulo form, since there's not really, like, a proper Dragon Form Thing anymore as far as we can tell and if you're gonna guest in a Tzimisce you really wanna be a Dragon...

So here she is, in all her eel-y, aquatic glory. She mostly swims side-to-side, with the legs tucked against her body in little flesh divots. The legs are literally just there in case she needs them to meander or grab or drag or flip people off.

Oh, and that blobby wet thing snuggling on her? That's Lake Huron. That's the Home she bound herself to. The local Garou fucking DESPISE this woman. She laughs in doesn't need to breathe, every time.

Could I have done a Mage Thing? Yeah. Did I do a Mage Thing? No. I wanted to draw a dragon.

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober 24: The Power Within

I know it's hard to tell from this blog, but Tony is actually a side character I have just accidentally The Charactered him for myself. Yes, he's played, by me, in the game, but he's something between a player character proper and a Storyteller character. He exists for plot devices and as an antagonist.

THESE ARE THE ACTUAL PROTAGONISTS OF THE STORY! (I have not posted them here yet I don't think???) So from left to right:

Henryetta, AKA Centipede, the Nosferatu. She's our insane Lain Serial Experiments 4Channer Girl. We love her even when she uses her stupid Potence to throw shitfits and have her meltdowns. (These are after all different things.) She's also very good at computers but that's irrelevant for the Cool Pose Picture.

Waltin, the Salubri. Yeah he's got (it's V5 I'm Sorry) Obtenebration/Necromancy. Yeah he died in the Franco-Prussian War. Yeah he dresses like a scene kid from 2006. Yeah he's got the Beautiful merit and is a whole entire twink. And yeah, he deliberately wore a mesh crop top with an open skelanimals hoodie and shorts to meet Tony and make the poor Catholic man feel Things. Fucker.

Daisy, the Gangrel. We love Daisy. Daisy and Tony are sitting in a tree K-i-s-s-i-n-g and the rest of the Coterie HATES it. But the rest of the Coterie is hooking up with a Toreador (Hen), a Lasombra (Waltin), and a Thin-Blood (Valerie, see following) so they can eat dirt about that, cuz Daisy can turn into a whole entire bear. The fuck're you gonna do about that?

& Valerie, the Brujah. She likes to fight with swords and got a custom blade made that can withstand her Brujah Bullshit. Just like Hen, Valerie's getting some good Potence-- but her real skills are the "Actually, Storyteller, I think-" Celerity 5 she beelined for. I think I made the blade too short, my bad for not planning well.

They're all absolutely great. Love them all to death. Wish I knew what to do with 'em or write about 'em.

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober Day 23: Loss of Control

Available on AO3 as well!

Below a readmore for gore/violence and some really awful things said.

"STOP! LOGAN! FUCK!"

The Brujah wasn't listening, and no amount of Daunt or Awe could get him to lay off the punches raining down on him.

Those Potence-powered and Celerity-hastened fists kept laying into him, over, and over, and over.

It was just punches— For a bit— And he was rousing up every bit of Blood he had to force the injuries on him to knit— But Logan wasn't laying off, and he couldn't get away, and he only had so much Blood—

...

His face was going to break before the Brujah's fists. Each impact jolted him, blurred his vision just from the impact; It was a good thing he couldn't feel pain, for the most part, or he wouldn't be able to see at all, especially as he felt a cheekbone shatter.

Panic was rising in his throat, though he tried to restrain it; His Beast knew as well as he did that this was a superior opponent, and one currently dead-set on killing him. The real trouble was that he was on the ground— No, the real trouble was that he'd pushed the Brujah just the slightest more than he should have, and now he got to pay the price.

"IH WAS JUS' A FUCKIN' JOKE!" He shrieked, his panicked wail the coyote's help-howl, calling for a pack that would never come. "I'M SAWRRY! AH'S FUCKEN' SAWRRY!"

His skin was splitting, showing the yellow fat and dark, deoxygenated muscles. One eyelid hung into his eye— Not that it mattered, all that much, since he felt that eye pop beneath a particularly brutal and knuckle-forward punch. He tried his dizzy-trick—

Logan simply snarled and kept slamming those blue-ribbon bar-brawlers into his ugly mug.

Teeth came out like ripe seeds, splitting easily from the flesh that held them beneath the incessant onslaught of fist to face. He coughed out some, swallowed others, entirely dependent on what he was able to get at; When he, in desperation, bit into Logan's arm to try and make him stop, the Brujah only grew all the more enraged and grabbed him by the cracking jaw and ripped.

Half his lower jaw broke at an odd angle. Logan grabbed the hanging bone and wrenched that out, too— And Tony howled agony. THAT could, and did, in fact, HURT!

The Brujah grinned, and did it again, on the other side; He lifted the decaying jaw by the handle, intending to smack Tony with his own fang like a nail through a two-by-four.

"LOGAN! PUT IT DOWN!"

Jay dodged the putrid projectile as Logan put it down in the direction of the Malkavian's head, instead.

Tony couldn't really feel much of his face, and that was absolutely for the best, seeing as he couldn't even blink without feeling a bone grit about. He felt a hand wrap around his tongue, hanging by a connection limply from the back of his gullet—

—And his tongue went somewhere else, too. He might've heard it splat somewhere from Jay's direction, where he was last, at least. He pushed at Logan's arm, but all he got in return was Jay screaming at Logan— And a hammerfist right to the dome.

....

Velvet looked at the bloody lump of a Brujah before her, and raised an eyebrow at the other two.

"Neither of you can wake him early? How did this even happen?"

Logan and Jay looked between each other, and Jay smiled nervously. "I-I actually don't know, but he would! So…"

The club-owner looked to Logan, who shrugged.

"I frenzied at him."

Velvet blinked, and looked at the discrepancy between their injuries curiously; Logan had some claws and bites, some batters and bruises, while Tony clearly had been on the other end of an unrestrained beatdown the likes of which would make even hardy street-fighters wince.

"… Why?"

"He said some things about my mother. I don't exactly remember, I blacked out."

She looked down at torpored Tony, and quirked a smile.

Tony shook his head with a sigh, sitting on the floor of the room where he'd been left, and trying to offer the bagged blood back to Velvet.

"No?" She said, raising an eyebrow. "Can't?" Tony nodded.

"Well! Hm. Any volunteers for donations?"

Jay held out his arm, and Tony dipped his head thankfully, while handing the bagged blood to Jay instead. When he'd at least drunk enough, thanks to Jay's offer, to save himself from falling into a torpor tomorrow morning, as well, he lay back down on the floor, feeling the dead flesh in his face start to ever-so-slowly slither and right itself.

"So, Tony? Logan said you'd tell us what you said about his mother, so we would see it was a justified attack and not punish him." Velvet was giving him about two inches away from an upskirt, not that he could see all that much through the battered slit of dead flesh that made up the eyelid over his one good eye. Perhaps he would have laughed, if he only knew.

He reached a broken-knuckled hand to his tongueless mouth, and Velvet rolled her eyes.

"Fine, fine. We'll reconvene when you can speak."

...

Logan stood against the back wall. Jay bounced a leg nervously in his chair, while Tony slouched against the side and grumbled softly to himself.

Velvet, meanwhile, finished whatever hen-peck typing she was doing on her computer, and then turned to the two Brujah and the Malkavian.

"So. What, exactly, instigated the fight?"

"Ugh, we was jus' ribbin' each othah. It's fine, it's justified, I don' need'a repeat it, I ain' pissed wif 'im. What I said was ovah da top, an' I apologize, sincerely."

Velvet raised both eyebrows at that, and leaned in as her fingers interlaced.

"You, Tony, evading a story? It must have been bad. Go on, confess, Catholic."

"You ain' nun too holy yaself," He grumbled at her, and then sighed.

"Fine. Logan was tawkin' 'bout how his mama use ta be able'a dance da Persian outta' rug, an' I axed if dis wouldn'a been in da Twennies— 'e said it was. I axed if dis wouldn'a been in Detroih— 'e said it was. I named some ole speakeasies, an' 'e said some'a dose she'd mentioned, yea."

Velvet and Jay both nodded, so far, reasonable.

"Well, what'd you say next, fucker?" Logan growled, and Tony sighed.

"Sos I said dere was a pretty good chance I might'a seen 'er dancin'! He was surprised by dat, axed me if dere wasn' some way I'd be able'a know fer shure. An' I said dere was."

Velvet raised an eyebrow.

Jay's eyes grew huge.

Logan began to growl again.

"What exactly did you say, Tony Conti?" Velvet asked, her voice smooth and even.

Logan's growling got louder.

Tony sighed, and cleared his throat.

"I axed if she was da one dat could tie a ribbon round ya cock in 'er mouf, da one dat 'ad a pussy grip like a seizin' Lewis, oah da one I might'a knoc—"

One of Velvet's chairs came down on the back of Tony's head, and Jay and Velvet stood aside, looking down at the ambushed Tony as Logan began kicking him while Tony screeched wrath at the Brujah once more.

"… Let Logan beat the tar outta Tony, and then… Take him to his Ghoul?"

"… Yes. That seems fair. I shall mark the matter settled, and notify the System of his… Unfortunate accident."

"… Yeah. I'll stop 'em again if he looks like he's going for ashes."

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober 22: Was I Ever Innocent

Gio, left, now, is supposed to be eight-ish, and Tony, right, is supposed to be thirteen-ish.

I KNOW I FORGOT ABOUT THE SEASONALITY OF FRUIT THEY'RE EARLY APPLES THEY'RE EARLY APPLES AAAAA

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober Day 21: Timeless Fashion

Tony, Jay, and Logan all swapping fashion styles for Halloween one year. Tony's the Gangster-20s, now given to Jay; Jay is the late 60s-early 70s, given to Logan; And Logan is the grungy biker 50s, given to Tony. Round robin!

[Text: Tony: I look like a lesbian. / Logan: OH MY GOD YOU DO]

Fun fact I used one of my lesbian friends' outfits for Tony's Lazy Bitch Reference so YEAH TONY YEAH YOU REALLY DO. HAHAH

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober 20: The Night I Gave Up

Available on AO3 as well!

Tony stepped into the church, looking around the familiar, shabby surroundings. He'd searched for a while— For nearly fifty years, back and forth across the country, seeking answers.

Is there any way to be human again?

Some promised answers. Solutions. One Malkavian out of California in the Sixties swore up down left and right that all you had to do to become human again was walk willingly into the sun.

Sometimes you did have to write them off as crazy.

He was running out of options— Running out of time, on top of it. Delilah— She was getting older, now. They wouldn't have that much time, now. He wouldn't pretend he wasn't getting desperate, to be coming to a Sabbat.

But even if it took dealing with those devils, he'd make it back to his angel. He would. He— He had to. She'd dragged him out of the shit he'd been in, he knew he'd tip right back into Hell without her.

So as he waited in the church, and looked up at the crucifix on the wall, until he heard footsteps behind him—

"Tony Conti?"

"Fathah Brutus?"

And then both, together, at once:

"You're here for… Oh, no."

...

"There were, once, it is said, a Clan that held the secrets to being human again in their Blood, and could lift a man out of Caine's Embrace, back only to the grace of the good Lord. Then, well… Stories go the Tremere heard of this, and grew jealous. So they demanded to have it, and when the holy ones refused, Tremere himself diablerized the one who held the secret— And it is said they took that secret beyond Final Death, denying it to the warlocks forever. But, now, there's no way back."

The priest and the criminal sat before the altar. Tony had taken out a cigarette, mostly reflexively, and had gotten a side-eye for it; He'd tucked the cigarette back into its case, figuring the priest for a straightedge. But now, he just spun the lighter between his fingers, flicking it here-and-about; His gaze was focused on the slosh of butane in his disposable lighter, how it moved in its clear wobbles through the see-through plastic.

"So dat's it, huh."

The priest tilted his head, and shrugged. "So it is. You looked like you were expecting… More."

"Well, frankly, I was 'xpecktin' a recruitmen' pitch." The 'Brujah' sighed, looking over to Brutus.

"If you were a new Fledge, seeking answers, perhaps. But you're old, Tony, and you don't seem like the sort of man to be convinced by a join-up flyer." He gave the New Yorker a little chuckle, and Tony smiled, and shook his head.

"Well, got me dead ta rights dere." He sighed, then, setting his head in a hand, still spin-spin-spinning the lighter.

"So that's it, then?"

Tony lifted his head and tilted it. "It'a what? You figyah ta wantin' a differen' reaction?"

"Well, frankly, I was expecting an explosion of Brujah." The priest said, with a warm smile, reaching all the way up to his eyes and crinkling their corners gaily.

"HAH!" Tony guffawed, leaning back as he slapped his knee, and then elbowed the Sabbat member. "Ahhh, fair 'nuff. Nah, Fathah, I jus'… Ya bein' dead 'awnes' wif me?"

The priest nodded; As the two men watched each other, neither could see a hint of a lie upon the other, and eventually, the light standoff melted wholly away.

"Well, if ya ain' lyin', yer da foist one dat ain' tried ta sell me snake oil." The fatter man in the suit stood, and cleared his throat, as if something might have tried to catch there, seeing such a journey over. "Ya want anyt'ing in retoin? I won' betray nobody, but dere's news out dere, oah I s'pose I kin drop a lettah somewhere."

Brutus stood as well, and touched the cross worn round his neck, and hummed. "Well, I suppose if you aren't going to rip my throat out to suggest it… Perhaps I could ask for you to stay a while, and listen? Two nights, three, maybe? After all, you're not a man convinced by flyers, but…"

His eyes twinkled as Tony turned, glaring, but not doing anything worse.

"… Well, maybe you'd appreciate hearing our logic and rhetoric, Brujah."

Tony's lip twitched, just for a moment, but… Well, it was up-front. More up-front than anyone else had been with him thus far, and fuck it— For being the one goddamn honest man on this trip?

"If I so much as smells any Vitae outta you, I'll rip yer fuckin' spine outta yer asshole."

Father Brutus smiled beatifically, spreading his palms like a saint.

"Well, let me tell you something I am sure you'll love to hear: As far as we're concerned, the Blood Bond is a horrific tool of enslavement and abuse, and should not be used upon our fellow Cainites."

Tony's eyes glittered in the light. "Oh, see, dat's all well'n good, Fathah, but you don' call me Cainite."

Father Brutus' own then gleamed right back. "Well, aren't you a clever one. I won't try anything— Don't think I'll get it past you, even if I had any desire to try. That," He said, placing a hand upon the Bible on the lectern, "I do swear, before the Lord."

Tony turned his chin up at that, eyeing between the priest and his holy text and the crucifix, Christ in his Passion gazing down upon them all.

"Fine. Tonight."

"Three nights."

"T'night an' tomorrah."

"Tonight, tomorrow, and until— This time the night after. Forty-eight hours."

"Don' test ya fuckin' luck, all ya did was tell me no."

"Tonight and tomorrow it is, then."

"Great. I'm gonna go ou'side an' smoke."

"I'll come with you, then."

"Oh, you wan' one? Jus' din' want me smokin' in church?"

"More that it'd be foolish to waste our precious time together."

"Don'… Don' say it like dat, Fathah."

"Hm? Like what?"

"… Nuffin'."

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDTober Day 19: When I Lost You

Tony's father, Oreste Conti, died when he was 7 and Gio was 2.

His mother never really recovered from losing her husband in that accident, just a year and change after losing her daughter, too.

But that's alright.

When you are an older sibling, you are given a responsibility. You are shown a life that matters so much more than yours. You keep that kid safe. It doesn't matter what you lose in the process or how many things you have to take apart to keep something else together. All that matters is you do your job.

-Laurel, How the Light Gets In, on the responsibility of an older sibling.

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober Day 18: Hiding From the Sun

This isn't anybody in particular, I was just attempting to put an iota of effort into a background for once, and wanted to draw the dumbest funniest graffiti I'd seen in the past year. Lots of abandoned places around to hide-- Wrap up in a blanket and pretend to be a sleeping unhoused and hope you'll be just as overlooked as they are... Whether you're on the run or simply too new to have claimed territory. Straight lines hard I broke out the ruler and still fucked up

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober Day 17: When Will You Rage?

"Marquise, uh, mind giving us five? Just until he--" consistent growling "GoddamnpieceashitfuckinBrujahcalmyafuckinassDOWNawreadyfucksake JAY PUT YA FUCKEN BACK INNA IT--"

smugging

The answer for Logan, and most other Brujah? FUCKING ALWAYS

Left to right is Jay, Logan, Tony, and Marquise.

I swear there's three Brujah in this picture, as far as anyone in the Divided Detroit Domains is concerned. Three Brujah and one Malk.

What? Homoerotic holds in my Vampire Game? I mean, check where and how Tony chose to hold on tight to Logan... >w>

[sweet-harpy-key]

WoDtober Day 16: Hunting in the Dark

Available on AO3 as well!

Under a readmore for depictions of abuse of inhalants / paint huffing.

The man leaned against the shipping crate, the spray of blue around his mouth and nose mirrored in the plastic bag he held between his legs. His eyes didn't open the same anymore— One was always droopy, now, a little too blown, a little too bright.

He coughed, and blood came up on his lips. It felt great, though— Dizzy, dreaming, he stared at the wavering yard-lights and saw the gleaming colours dance. His fingers were trembling. His chest was aching, slightly. But it was nothing, as long as he could get more of this.

The spray paint made sweet, hissing music as it sprayed into the plastic bag, again.

There were footsteps. He held the bag to his face, breathed the fumes in, shivered as more of that sweet euphoria crackled across his dying neurons, and then looked up at the man who was approaching him. He could barely focus on the man— Some big guy, fat guy. Security guard?

"Hhaaammm movvnnenn," He slurred, but as he tried to stand, he fell and ate gravel instead. He groaned— He staggered— He was too clumsy, right now, to walk.

"Don' worry 'bout it, fella," Came the man's voice, as the guy sat down next to where he'd fallen. "Y'avin' fun dere?"

A hand on his shoulder righted him— He was back against the shipping container, and he smiled, and nodded dopily, leaning a little to the side.

"Sreaaaaaaaaal gooh..d… Ssshaayayygot… More?" He laughed, shaking the spray paint can sloppily, with arm movements growing more and more out of control.

The man was looking at him— Looking at the blood on his lips. He wiped it away, only to begin to cough more, and more of the blood and paint came up from his withering lungs.

"I gots ya somet'ing bettah, if ya wanna try," The man replied, leaning next to him on the shipping container.

"Fuhgen… Yah? Fghgimmeit," He said, and blue on his hand smeared onto the man's arm.

The man moved too fast for him to quite tell what was going on— But then it didn't matter, anymore.

The guy was right. Whatever he'd just gotten was better than the paint—

Whatever it was, was to die for.