#jorgal dwick

[semirampant-dwickery]

>:}

THE SCREAM-LAUGH I MADE SEEING THIS IN MY INBOX

THE POSE

THE CREST

DAT PERFECT IMPISH GRIN

THE AMOUNT HE'S HAVING TO SHIFT TO GET IN POSITION AND GIVING POSITIVELY ZERO FUCKS ABOUT IT

THE WAY HIS SHIRT AND PANTS ARE IN NO WAY QUALIFIED TO RESTRAIN DAT MUCH TUCHUNKA

and the fact that, as you were drawing this, you casually admitted "...he could be bigger"

oh this is perfect <3 <3 <3

[cerberusdailynews]

DWICKRISE

Dwickcast CEO Resumes Duties After Near-Death Scare

via Aegro Clausulus, Dwick Dwickcast Syndykyt Rag NOS DWICKA, ILLIUM - DDS CEO Jorgal “Dwick” Lenny resumed majority control of the Dwick Dwickcast Syndykyt earlier this Wednesday, following weeks of turmoil that nearly saw him, his company, and the de facto city he rules destroyed. Mr. Dwick claims he has experienced a “complete” remission from the disease that nearly killed him, and that the same serum therapy used on him is being conducted on all those who were similarly infected in Nos Dwicka. “This [expletive] couldn’t have been done without the crazy-[expletive] busywork done by the Dwick Institute for the Research of Taint sYndrome,” CEO stated in a press conference confirming his reinstatement as CEO this afternoon. “Iit sure-as-[expletive] couldn’t have been done without my better half keeping the city’s [expletive] together while I was dead.” Drau Lura, whose efforts to find a cure for those suffering “Taint” sickness in Nos Dwicka, is currently recovering at Declan Xavier Memorial from injuries sustained thwarting a coup attempt by DDS Corporate Security “Lemmus” Lepetomay. She is expected to make a full recovery. CORPSEC IN TATTERS Mr. Dwick’s first executive action following reinstatement has been an official disbanding of the Syndykyt’s Corporate Security department, citing Mr. Lepetomay’s attempted coup as “the last [expletive] straw, not to mention the last [expletive] chance for anyone to see any worth in this [multiple expletives] department.” The move has been perceived as largely ornamental to the public, as active members of the security wing surrendered themselves into custody following Lepetomay’s televised defeat, and as the central police station was retaken by Dwickcast Writers Guild members shortly thereafter. Mr. Dwick has been cagey about those detained during this action, citing the difficulty of “handling of security reasons without a [expletive] security department” as his primary reason. With the end of one security wing, however, is the apparent rise of another. Advertisements for positions in “Nos Dwicka Civil Protection” have already appeared on the Syndykyt’s employment site. Mr. Dwick has already been on the forefront on these, stating that “none of the [expletive] who even considered siding with that [expletive]” would be allowed anywhere near the department or its administration. “Our interest has been, and shall always be, the Nos Dwickan people,” stated newly-Appointed Chief of Civil Protection Bellator Turp from his hospital bed at Declan Xavier Memorial, where he is recovering from wounds inflicted by Mr. Lepetomay during the coup. “No longer shall we, your armed law enforcement, be corporate security thugs. Our overriding goal is, and should’ve always been [sic], rebuilding homes and trust.” No officers allegedly involved in the coup attempt were available for comment, though unofficial reports claim that notable co-conspirators Julo “Cragface” Tagris, Nelson Murdock, Nakmor Narstak, Chez Chezlin, and Felvin Dufrane have been apprehended. CEO’S WILL TO BE CARRIED OUT Mr. Dwick authorized the partial execution of his own Last Will and Testament as part of his reinstatement today, beginning the process of redistributing a significant percentage of his wealth into the communities most affected by his brush with death. "It's real likely that there's going to be a [expletive] shootenanny if I snuff it," the CEO said in a video segment of his will made available to the public. "I can't guarantee it'll be near so hilarious as the first time. Too many gangs, rivals, too many [expletive]heads [expletive] bickering for power. And while they're playing nice now, I can't guarantee the whole thing won't go off like a [expletive] bomb when I do. Again, I mean." Mr. Dwick’s will contained multiple triggers for distribution in the case of a posthumous power struggle, during which his estate would be disbursed among those whose homes and livelihoods were most damaged by the fallout. Mr. Dwick has instructed executors to allow many of these to be carried out despite his survival, emphasizing reparations to the poorest among the city and specifically excluding potential beneficiaries among Nos Dwicka’s upper crust. "[Expletive] those [expletive]ing [expletive]s,” Mr. Dwick stated in a later section of the recording. "If they can’t find a [epithet: volus] to hide their [expletive] for a rainy day, it's their [expletive] fault." For these reasons (and others), Mr. Dwick is expected to move from his penthouse estate to a considerably more austere location in the Babetown district. “The food was always better down there,” Mr. Dwick stated to reporters asking about the relocation. “More tasty, more greasy, just more.” REPAIRS UNDERWAY The dismantling of DDS Corporate Security and release of Mr. Dwick’s funds appear to be kick-starting repair work across Nos Dwicka. Multiple programs are already underway to restore the city to its pre-”Dwickrise” status. Plants and agricultural centers lost during the CorpSec-induced firebombing are already being replanted, and initial planning has already been drafted for a new feral kakliosaur habitat in West Craterville’s eponymous Reaper impact site. “The firebombing attack CorpSec launched on Nos Dwicka wasn’t just an act of terrorism, it was an unspeakable act of animal cruelty,” said Nella Yelisi, a town Councilwoman who speaks on behalf of the Babetown district. “The kakliosaur species has only recently brought back to the galaxy, and only under extreme measures. They are a priceless part of krogan history. It is on each and every one of us, including us salarians, to prevent that from happening again.” Funding has also been channeled into building repair works and utility updates for the city’s poorer residents. Those residents with damages related to the CorpSec coup have been prioritized, with households and small businesses at the firebombing’s epicenter placed at the top of the list. “There are folks who like to watch from afar and comment what a trash place Nos Dwicka is,” said Growth Intelligence and Material Procurement Strategist Urdnot Branka, speaking on the subject from her hospital bed where she, like her employer, is recovering from late-stage Taint infection. “They would be right. Any job found here is usually up at 1 Dwickcast Tower. Two years ago, I started working in construction and personally saw how rough things were. The slums were awful, the ‘richer’ districts even worse. But that's to be expected when you live in the aftermath of Reaper-destroyed areas. With an incident like this coup, you think that would be the end of it...but this place is like a field after a fire. Under the ashes are good things ready to grow.” A CITY RETURNS TO PEACE The past months have been a chaotic whirlwind for the people of Old Nos Astra, but these events seem to be finally drawing to a close. The fires have been extinguished, evacuees are returning to their homes, and those driven to the brink by the Taint are on the path to recovery. Most people in the city are still grappling with the consequences of the “Dwickrise”, but it appears the city is already working to mend the wounds dealt to it. Like the very krogan who line this city’s spine, Nos Dwicka is a city bent on survival, and it is determined to flourish no matter what cards are dealt to it. As for the krogan at its epicenter, Mr. Dwick plans to spend a little more time healing alongside Ms. Lura, though he warns that those imagining his new, slimmer stature as “the new, improved Dwick” are seriously deluding themselves. “People don’t call me the big [expletive] boss-man for nothing,” Mr. Dwick said to the audience, winking behind a varren haunch the size of his head at his reinstatement luncheon. “You’re going to see a whole lot [expletive] more of me in the future.”

[semirampant-dwickery]

Upea Tatuointi Sink or Sin Oilpaint and Charcoal on Concrete 2195 On Loan from the Dwick Dwickcast Syndykyt

HE performs as producer, director, scriptwriter, lyricist, actor, and wrestler for some of the most tasteless, transgressive holovids, movies, hv shows, and wrestling shows this side of the Attican Traverse. SHE'S the CEO of his company, securing funding for-, beating asari colonialist influence back from-, and preempting the torture of its employees for his own amusement. Together, they form the backbone of the Dwick Dwickcast Syndykyt, ensuring there is NEVER a bar for galactic entertainment that they can't tunnel underneath.

Dwick and Lydia complete one another, forming a chaotic core that beats in the heart in Illium's post-Reaper Nos Astra. Dwick's creative bombast and excess in all things (whether personal, professional, culinary, or hedonistic) have unlocked Lydia's interest in exercising her own desires, resulting in a number of corporate coups the likes of whose style and elegance Dwick could only dream of. Lydia's shrewdness, meanwhile, allows her to redirect Dwick's more violent, compulsive tendencies away from their employees and into productive activity, thus ensuring the company's long-term survival (and creating some of the funniest holovision in centuries).

Here, we see them taking up the entire hallway of a Tuchankan-style sauna, with Dwick taking some time to massage Lydia's temples with some deceptively dexterous finger work. Lydia rests atop Dwick's front, his whole body a soft, secure cushion for her to stretch out against. It's an open question whether the sauna or Dwick's body generates more heat.

[semirampant-dwickery]

Yok Obmorlee Wherever the Spirit Takes You "Hot Mic" Photography 2194 On Loan from the Dwick Dwickcast Syndykyt

A work in progress because I made life difficult for myself with all those frills. I present it in MIGNOLA MODE instead, with the first shadow layer set to max - because I love this look, even as a work in progress.

MARLEN KRISMOOSE

[semirampant-dwickery]

Jorgal Dwick Bold and Brash...? Photography of Impasto on Canvas (Only Surviving Copy) 2195 On Loan from the Dwick Dwickcast Syndykyt 

((Moo hoo hah hah.))

Only one person could ever convince Dwick to abandon his endeavors to be the largest living creature in any room, and Drau Lydia had absolutely no interest in doing so. For reasons ranging from interpersonal to professional, aesthetic, and deeply, deeply carnal, she had no intention of ever asking her extremely plush boytoy to lose that deep, soft padding.

That didn't stop Dwick from being extremely stupid, however.

Consider the afternoon they spent reviewing potential talent for an upcoming production of The Terror of Peak 24, in which the two of them reviewed headshots (and gratuitous additional physical data) submitted by prospective actors still in the Aralakh System. It was an eye-rolling process for them, almost more so than when hiring outside their own species: the krogan there clearly still thought either the asari (or, worse, the humans) were the ones fielding them, ignoring the leering, jowly visage plastered over every DDS logo in existence. The result was akin to looking at preliminaries for a stereotypical porn shoot: an overwhelming parade of grizzled face after humorless mug, all with the same shredded abs, shriveled humps, and exposed shirtless muscle plates that made the viewer want to scream "have a gods-damned glass of water already." 

In a fit of pique, induced by one particularly shriveled specimen, Lydia tossed the datapad holding its picture to Dwick, muttering the trigger phrase: 

"Just look at this walking specimen of man-meat." 

Now, the two of them had been together over a decade by this point. Dwick knew her interests. They had a dedicated wardrobe and a gods-damned omnigel-powered, flash-forging holodeck "Dream Room" dedicated to roleplaying those interests at 1 Dwickcast Tower. Custodial staff members knew not to enter that room, and especially not to shine a blacklight on that entire floor, lest the ensuing visions drive them to the brink of insanity. There were Workman's Comp funds earmarked in Dwickcast Syndykyt's budget to cover psychiatric counseling for those foolish enough to ignore the warnings. 

Dwick knew Lydia wasn't interested in what she passed to him, and had his brain functioned even three seconds later, he would hear her reinforcing this with the pacing, gesticulating, three-full-minute tirade she made on the subject. He would ordinarily have known her statement to be sarcastic, known that he'd have a few ridiculous comments of his own, and that there would be some teasing, some groping...and, depending on how dedicated they really were to this project, a high-tailing to the Dream Room for roleplaying and "script-writing." 

So what stopped Dwick's brain in its tracks? A momentary, instantaneous flash of insecurity and a little thing called mind-boggling stupidity. 

Now, Dwick didn't want to do this. He had many reasons for wanting to be the Biggest Bastard in Broadcasting, Freudian, Jungian, hedonistic, and intimidation-based being just a few. He liked his size and worked tirelessly to remain at it, doing his damnedest to override that biotic status of his constantly eating at his reserves. The prospect of being some scrawny, titchy matchstick of a man, one who could be blown over by a stray Illian breeze, was practically nauseating to him. 

But if the light of his life wanted it, then that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. 

==========

Three days passed after that meeting, three days during which Lydia witnessed Dwick curtail his consumption to well below his usual habits. A day of this was understandable, if they were busy; two, even, if he'd planned something particularly kinky for them involving a buffet line.

But Dwick had signaled nothing of the sort. In fact, he'd become almost furtive by comparison. By the third day, she was alarmed: had something happened to her lovable worse half? Had he contracted something putting him off his lunch? Had the Taint, which nearly killed him seven years ago, made some horrific resurgence?

...No. She could feel his stomachs rumbling across the table, see that distracted look in his eyes as he looked over the messy remains of his "kid's meal" 144-oz varren steak to the massive cloche sitting next to them. She knew he wanted more...and for whatever reason, he was doing his best to ignore it.

"Dwick, my silly schwanzstucker, you've hardly touched your food!" she crooned to him, waving a chunk of her own steak on a fork for emphasis. "Are you all right?"

"Oh--uh, yeah! Yeah," he said, eyes locked on her fork, hastily patting his jowls with a handkerchief barely big enough to cover half his mouth. "I'm jus' feelin'...full, y'know? Heheh, uhhhh...eyes tooooo big fer my stomach--"

His eyes crossed slightly as his midsection betrayed him. Lydia's own eyes narrowed as the sounds rolled for a full ten seconds after that.

"Out with it," she said, dropping the playful act entirely. "You're hiding things from me again, and you're not eating. What's. Going. On."

Dwick blanched. Any resistance he may have had to telling Lydia dissolved on the spot.

"Okay! *Okay!*" he said, hastily holding up his mitts. "I, uh--I was, uh, goin' ter show you after din's ternight ennyway."

"Tell me *what.*"

"It's nothin' bad, I swear - I swear!" he said, hastily reaching under the table and disengaging something under its surface. "In fact...I think you'll even be purty proud'a da concept!"

"The...*what?*"

"Da concept! Oh, yeah, Lydds, dis is gon' be great--"

Dwick paused, clearing his throat as he readied something just above his lap.

"Ahem--Drau Lura, you sexy schmexy Chief Executive Officer'a my hearts...take a gander at what you could have..." 

He hoisted the object: a massive canvas on a wooden frame, easily four feet tall, its sides clearly plastered with a thick, paste-like paint.

"...In five ter ten years!"

He flipped it about to reveal a lurid portrait, garishly constructed in impasto, of Lydia in a pink dress, looking in adoration up at a shirtless, thong-clad image of Dwick. Dwick's portrait did not depict the corpulent, tent-filling creature he was today, however: while his face was just as scarred, jowly and be-chinned as it normally was, it had been crudely affixed to the same scrawny, dehydrated body that had spawned Lydia's tirade only days earlier.

Lydia's jaw dropped.

"...Dwick, this is--"

"A-ain't it great?!" he spluttered, clearly holding back tears as he held it up against his own face. "I got the idear while we was doin' castin' calls a few nights ago, a-an' I think, wit' some real work - like, really workin' day an' night at it - I could totes rock dis here ROCK SOLID body fer you i-in two ter five years FLAT–"

“Burn it.”

Dwick blinked, surprised.

“But…I…but Lydds–”

“BURN IT.”

“Lydds, I-I don’t think you understand! I even got a physical trainer all set up–”

Lydia slammed her hand on the table hard enough for cracks to spiderweb out from the impact.

“FIRE THEM.”

“B-but I thought you wanted–”

“Don’t make me say it again,” she warned. “I will call Yete to fill that ass of yours out again.”

The thought of Lydia invoking Clan Jorgal’s premier Shamaness stopped Dwick in his tracks. He gulped, pulled the portrait back down, and (when it wouldn’t go back under the table) crushed it accordion-style under the weight of his palm until it did so again.

Then he cleared his throat, planted his hands on the rim of his gut, and did his best to melt into the floor.

“...Actually, no,” Lydia continued, musing to herself. “She’d just work you until that thick middle of yours was all muscle. Eugh, it’d be like laying on top of a boulder again…”.

Dwick closed his eyes and let out a breath. Bullet dodged.

“...No, I think I’ll call my father instead.”

“Oh fuck.”

[semirampant-dwickery]

ALEX! DARLING! LIGHT OF MY LIFE!

Hi C: 💕

kinda cheated since you already saw this but I still wanted to send it to your inbox and tell you that not only do I love you, but that you are one of the biggest supporters in my life and I want to do all I can to give back all the effort you put in. You are amazing, funny and so smart AND MORE 💋💋💋

AWWWWWWW <3 <3 <3

I know I said this to you earlier (and so, so many times before) but you are absolutely AMAZING at drawing this absolute galoot. Between that gleeful expression, the way he's just barely keeping eye contact with the viewer over the wrinkles in his face, the accordion work you did with his jowls, those mottled scales, and that constant Cheshire grin? God, you just absolutely NAIL drawing him under any circumstance.

Your love fills me with so much happiness, and it is a joy supporting all your artwork and seeing the amazing effort and wit that you instill into your own creations. I will always adore how we strive to match each other's efforts 110%, and the wild ideas we get to explore as a result.

I love you <3 <3 <3 >:3)))))

[semirampant-dwickery]

Weyrloc Krism Culling the Herds, or: Halloween Sends its Regards Acrylic 2194 On Loan from the Dwick Dwickcast Syndykyt

When waging war on behalf of Christmas, it's best to watch your flank. After all, as Santa Dwick will remind you: memento Nativitatis mori.

Got this finished before Year's End! SUCK IT, INEVITABLE MARCH OF TIME!

Based off everyone's favorite Philadelphian mascot. Heh heh heh.

[semirampant-dwickery]

Pik Ango Boulderdash Gouache on Stone 2194 On Loan from the Dwick Dwickcast Syndykyt

I'm totally not planning on using this for creative writing purposes on another blog.

Of course not.

That would be silly.

Bonus: MIGNOLA MODE