#dex voltaire

[deadascharliedisco]

For anyone interested, here's every dialogue portrait in Dead as Disco. Figured I'd post them for everyone to see and use.

[rasputinaillyanna]

[theworstcannedmeats]

first in a long line of scribbles to come--I have a big file of me just doodling fanart of the game and while swapping between my folders for Dex and Ben, found their portraits sitting next to each other like uhhhh this? highkey giving the awkward party meme.

maybe I'll do a version of it with the full band some time

sidenote--no idea what Benny is gonna look like yet. based this design as a mix of his teaser portrait as well as his slice of the reunion poster you see in the intro of the game now. I'll talk a little more about it in my post of my doodles of him

[cxptains-hook]

IKEA hemlock 🤤🤤🤤

[bathoryalgorithm]

Started playing Dead as Disco, love this guy,,,, The Mashin.

[sakkajagga]

have an excerpt of the Dead as Disco thing i cranked out after five minutes of sitting still. they're not together; just chatting. character studying, if you squint. Dex is obviously going thru something, and Charlie doesn't want to think about how he's getting sicker.

In well structured and healthy families, being the youngest usually comes as a privilege. In a rag-tag band with clashing personalities out to change the world, it comes with “obligations.”

The glorified go-for, the butt of the jokes, the one the ‘bitch work’ (as Hemlock so affectionately put it) gets delegated to. Though he had always pulled his weight and more, Charlie takes certain stances now. He’s long since grown out of agreeing to be solely responsible for the late night coffee making and convenience store runs. Refuses to pack up set by his lonesome anymore; especially since the attention on them is finally positively abuzz after the victorious battle under Prophet’s keen eye.

No more bar-gigs only. Real stages, real lights, real crowds. Real stagehands to help with unloading, setup, and packing up.

And yet, Charlie still insists on securing the guitar bag to his back as he hauls his drum set piece by piece to the stage, where he always carefully set the guitar in its stand before even thinking about assembling his station. He still offers out his arm for support to make sure Dex has something stable to grab onto when there are no railings or walls. Still makes sure the cane is always within reach.

“I don’t need your fucking pity.” Dex’s beer bottle rattles the table and everything on it when he’d slammed it down, refusing to break eye contact.

Charlie stills, poised on his way down to pick up the cane laying on the floor, fingers already around the neck of it. He’d moved without thought, pure reflex and muscle memory when it’d fallen over and despite Dex making a move to grab it as soon as it clattered to the tile.

“Huh?” is all he can think to say.

Taking advantage of the pause, Dex leans over too, snatching his cane from Charlie’s lax grip, then settles it across his lap. “I can fucking do it myself.”

Charlie sits back more slowly, pushes his sunglasses that’d fallen down back up on his head, eying his friend’s glare. Sure, they were arguing like usual, but he hadn’t realized Dex crossed over into actually pissed off during it. “I was just—”

“Forget it.” The guitarist’s fingers flick the crumpled ball of what he deemed as yet another flop of a score. The paper ball bounces over a pen and lands directly in Charlie’s lap. “Get out of here, Charlie. I’m tired.”

“Sure.” Unseen under the table, his hand holds the discarded scribbles of musical bars. “I’ll get outta what’s left of your hair.”

There’s an impulse to glide his palm across the freshly shaven side of his head, but Dex merely slouches there in his seat. Everyone had been surprised by the abrupt change in hair style. Dead as Disco’s guitarist had always had that long black hair, always hanging in his face, always sleek and Charlie hadn’t said a word when he first noticed the thinning and dulling. Then, without warning, Dex had shown up to practice; half his head bald and what remained only long enough to reach his cheek bone.

Keeping Hemlock’s trap shut had been half the battle before, and now with Dex’s hairstyle bassist-approved, Charlie had oddly found relief in the change. Even if he kept his mouth shut about the extra falter in his friend’s steps these days. Maybe it had set him on edge. Maybe he was hovering. Just a bit more than normal.

Charlie tucks the anecdote away in the back of his mind for now; hand smoothly going into his pants pocket to slip the paper he’d squashed down to a more manageable (less noticeable) size, then pulling on his jacket. “All right, Dex. Get some r—” He pauses, clears his throat, fake-straightening his collar. “I’ll catch ya later.”

Dex makes no move to see his friend out nor move from his spot. Doesn’t even meet his eyes when Charlie lingers there for barely a second longer than necessary before the drummer turns and heads out. The door to the old run-down apartment clicks shut behind him, and he pretends he doesn’t hear Dex’s voice raise in an angry shout that is immediately accompanied by the sound of a table being knocked over.

[goatmealluci]

Donna Voltaire (finished)

For that one person who reblogged it and enjoyed it greatly, thank you and enjoy more! I used this to test out some rendering and to try my hand at skin tones along with playing around with the filters. I think it turned out wonderfully!

[thesewageden]

Dex having a song called chaos control is just killing me. Oky shadowfan1