Hello everybody! sorry its been forever since I posted anything new just been super busy. Here’s the finished product of that snake print I posted sketches of a while ago. Surprisingly I ended up liking gouache more than I thought I would. I definitely will try working with it again in the future. Much more new stuff to come!
I’ve been thinking a lot about tattoo artist!R and it eventually got me thinking about tattoo enthusiast!Jehan and how their friendship probably blossomed over a mutual love of body art.
Jehan started going to the parlor R worked at basically the day after they met at a meeting at the Musain. They saw how talented R was, even just when doodling on a paper napkin, and fell in love with him in a Completely Aesthetic Way. Over the course of several months, R helped Jehan design different flower and vine patterns that eventually wrapped around the entirety of their rib cage. Eccentric and highly detailed lilies likely dotted their sternum. Patterns of wisteria hugging their shoulder blade.
R was ecstatic to use water color, versus the usually monotone, ‘edgy’ styles most people asked for. Jehan essentially gave him the steering wheel and he started to feel like an actual artist again, instead of someone who tattooed (and eventually removed) partner’s names on drunk people’s asses.
Jehan, in return, helped teach R calligraphy, so he could write various quotes upon the poet’s skin; including, but not limited to, at least three Walt Whitman quotes and two Sylvia Path.
Ah I love the idea of these two idiots bonding over tattoos. And R blushing profusely whenever Jehan shows off a new tat to the amis.
corvo: three years after saving Emily and putting her on the throne, Emily points out that his “tattoo” is growing. They shape like waves up his arm, down his spine, and up his other arm. On his swordarm the mark gets more and more thorny, and “aggressive” while on the marked arm, the lines are soft and gentle.
Delilah: Delilah’s mark grows like rosevines across her skin. The closer you get to her heart the more withered the roses are, due to her bitterness poisoning them. These roses are made with dottwork patterns the vines look like watercolor.
Daud: Daud’s mark spreads like tribal tattoos, with the name of every victim to his blade on his right shoulder , and the name of every whaler he trained on his left. The tribal patterns show marine animals, like squids, krakens, whales and so forth.
Granny Rags, Vera Moray: her mark was placed on her back, right between her shoulderblades and spreads out in rats and snakes, though it’s all covered up in clothes. Sometimes she can feel the animals move across her body in their trails, making her heart smile.
Emily: Emeliy just got her mark, but the first thing growing from it will be her mother’s name on her wrist and Corvo’s name on her other. They will later grow to either black smokey lines with white dots, like galaxies across her arms, or dragons breathing fire depending on if you prefer High or Low chaos.
I was playing a human swashbuckler: A dashing, womanizing, but noble scoundrel named Gavin.
The party had just cleared out a subterranean ziggurat controlled by duergar, and we had found our way inside the chieftain’s treasure room. Coins and precious stones glittered and glowed across the floor, and in the center of the chamber sat three pedestals. One of these bore a gold scepter tipped with a blazing red jewel - the prime object of our search - the second, a dark orb with shifting veins of light like a contained lightning storm, and the third bore a leather-woven belt inlaid with silver and gold vine and floral patterns.
All three items bore a magical aura, but we all expected some manner of trap or mechanism to be protecting them. Thus we set about removing the items from their respective pedestals. Search checks bore no sign of traps, but we nonetheless came up with a way to minimize the risk: Two of us would take a rope, and from opposite sides of a pedestal, we would wrap the rope around an object, knock it down, or hook it up and away.
We already knew the scepter could command a small flight of fire drakes, but we couldn’t identify the orb or the belt. The first person to touch the orb tried various things, until finally he threw the orb, only to find that it disappeared and re - materialized in his fist. We concluded that this was some kind of curse to be explored later.
There was still the belt. We couldn’t identify it, and several members of the party were of a mind to identify it later along with the orb.
But not Gavin.
My swashbuckler grinned, snatched the magical leather band, and fixed it around his waist. The GM turned to me.
“Roll a Fortitude Save.”
“Charmed Life!” I snapped, imitating a Spanish accent, hoping that the swashbuckler’s luck ability would save him from whatever fate awaited him. I rolled. I rolled low. The GM turned to me again.
“You feel your body… Change. Muscles shift around slightly, your waist slims, and you feel an extra weight on your chest and below your hips. Looking down, you see you now have breasts,” he turned to the other players.
“Before your very eyes, Gavin changes into a woman.”
You could have heard a penny drop.
My (Gavin’s) first reaction was simple: Panic.
“Mi espada! Donde esta mi espada!” I cried, now affecting my Spanish with a feminine tone.
I turned to the others at the table then, grinning.
“Gavin continues on like this for a few moments, before he looks down at his - er - her new body, . He - she - swivels her body around to examine her new form, then looks up at the rest of the party with a grin and says: ‘You know… maybe this is not such a bad thing.’ before trailing her palms down to her hips to measure them.”
See, Gavin may now have been a woman… But she was still a womanizer.
The other players groaned in response, as I sat there, smug grin and all.