First of all, we here at Harvest would like to wish you all a happy Trans Day of Visibility!

What better way to celebrate than to reveal a sketch of the overseer of the main coven, Niambi! An openly out transwoman who is known as the “Witch of the Everglades”! She’s loving, strict, and wishes for the personal growth of all she cares for.

Her magic revolves around water and earth, particularly the mixture of the two! That little puff ball she’s holding is actually a marimo moss ball and acts as her familiar! She calls him Maurice.

Based off of our good friend, @niambi (it won’t let us @ her but she’s amazing!)

Thanks for all of your support. Once again, we’d like to wish you a happy Trans Day of Visibility! Happy Harvesting!

Gwaine up to his shenanigans as per usual and dragging all the knights with him. What does it matter If half the ideas actually come from Morgana*

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

*it doesn’t.


i d k 💫


I’ve been feeling really disorganized and gross lately, and I feel like my styles looking a bit too clean and polished and stiff. I feel really cluttered and lazy and unmotivated, but it happens. It’s come and gone before, so hopefully this’ll pass real soon. So to clean things up a bit, here’s some sketches I never really finished, or just little ones I didn’t feel like posting on their own.

Hello good people of Finland

I got a table at Desucon’s artists’ alley in June

so after a break of almost two years I can meet followers and sell my junk yeeaahh!!

as usual, I’ll have larger and smaller prints available. mostly Dragon Age related (big surprise right????) but I’ll bet there’s going to be other stuff as well once I figure out what… if nothing there strikes your fancy I’ll also be doing sketches all day.

I’ll post an update closer to June. lastly, here’s a sneak peek of what I have planned:

Ladrien June, Day 1 - Love Poem

Her Valentine’s card stayed on his bedside table for years. The pink paper faded with age, but he never tired of running his fingers along the penned words and imagining how her warm hand must have once flowed across the paper to write them for him.

Much later, he would marvel at how he never once recognised her handwriting.