arrapso
Farewell
To answer a common question: YES, you can use my art for your pfp/icon as long as you credit me.
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Hamish/John rivalry (1892, colorized)
a continuation of this post X
#aaoth#hamish hawthorne#john watson#kissing MC's hand? in front of Watson's salad??#what a brave Ham
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For best girl @doriana-gray-games c: , year 2
#aaoth#sherlock holmes#an affair of the heart#irene adler#may half undressed irene be the inspiration you need in your hours of need#the ball chapter can't come soon enough#DISCLAIMER that i will add for doriana's sake:#this is NOT canon Irene look
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'An affair of the heart' ROs X
#aaoth#you get beauty marks and YOU get beauty marks you ALL get beauty marks#john watson#gregory lestrade#hamish#irene adler#a bunch of old portraits i was hesitant to post#but i suppose the longer i wait the less likely i'll be to ever post them so here they are
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Our Kickstarter campaign is live!!!
👑 Play as an Empress
🌈LGBTQ+ positive story
💕Enticing romance
⚔️Meaningful choices
📜Optional kingdom management
Help us bring Imperial Grace to life, back us on Kickstarter 🙏
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Irene Adler: Masquerade Outfit / Casual Outfit
#irene adler#aaoth#how sad is it that i'm more invested in the looks of a char who's supposed to show up last in ch7 of a game that only has 3 ch done :/#.....irene is such a babe tho how can i not#clown behaviour#but hey it gave me the opportunity to play around with fabric shading#was debating if i want to post this ever at all or not but for the sake of having..at least something on this half-dead blog#here we are :/#siren look for masquerade because obvIoUslY#and opera diva look as her default one
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Chase -Briony - Tallys - Shery
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For best girl @doriana-gray-games c:
#Wish u the best girl#and may we all live long enough to see your IF finished lol#aaoth#john watson#irene adler#gregory lestrade#no hamish because who cares about hamish
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Alternatively:
Halloween thingy
So... the discord gave me quite the special halloween prompt
"Sexy Ghost MC seduction of tempted priest/nun W". Uh... yeah. Here is my attempt on that lol (it became more of a thriller tbh...):
(There's is one word that is for John and one for Jane and they are separated with a / )
To Whom It May Concern,
Upon this paper, I enclose the remarkable sight I saw and scarcely believed one hour past. If my scribblings are found without their owner—J. H. Watson—please deliver this, my last belonging, to a Mrs Hudson of 221B Baker Street. She should know what transpired. If nothing else.
I shall begin again, at the very start.
On the 21st of October, I received a letter. It was a torn-up thing, with edges more charred than ripped and decolouration of years—not months as the date suggests.
And as I have only recently taken orders/the veil and entered the church as I always hoped and said I would, I felt compelled to return this stray. God is found in small matters. So I have been told.
Admittedly, I was drawn to the thing. To this strange curiosity. I believed, perhaps, that the journey of such a letter must likely end on a crescendo.
I say to you now. I was far too correct in my suspicions.
May god have mercy upon my soul.
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It was there no sooner than I closed the door.
The gate, as well as the entryway, had been ajar, and I had stepped in; I had not meant to act the wrongdoer—it was as if it called to me, this broken door on the edge of broken steps of the broken, decrepit facade. I could sooner turn my heel than abandon my breath.
And as the door closed, there it was.
It—such word sound not enough. For it was more than enough to blind me with only its glitter of starlight. But I do not have the words for it. No, whatever it was, it was not human. A being out of this world or long past it. And I found it the most beautiful sight.
It appeared lighter than the dark room, but not like the shine of fire, but of stars. Cold white and blue. An Aegean glow.
I could not believe it true.
It smiled, then.
A tremble wrecked my body, from fear, from—words I dare not speak nor think. I had my vows.
It smiled wider, then. And wider still.
‘What are you?’ I had to know, you see. I had to.
It moved; It swam above ground without water. But not in haste. It approached me, and its hand went through my shoulder. Incorporeal. But its breath was cold on my ear, and it whispered, ‘Yours.’
Before I could grasp the siren words, it was gone.
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I searched the house. Delving further into the abandoned estate with nothing but a kerosene lamp and my trusted RIC revolver. First, I came upon a sitting room, but it held nothing. Not any answers. And, to my growing desperation, no sign of the being I found myself hunting for.
I went further and further. And the air grew thick.
The glass of the old chandeliers would clank without wind. Twice, a drawer fell. Soon a cabinet shut with biting force, and I held my voice from escaping. The sounds and heavy clatter lead me up the old house towards where I find myself now. The bedroom. Untouched, compared to the rest. Beyond the heavy layer of time, the room would be a fine stately room of fine furniture and finer company. A large four-post bed stood by the window, and next to it, on the drawer, where the moonlight shone—was a journal.
Leather, yellowed paper, and a red bookmark placed upon the first page.
Here is the journal of Sherlock Holmes. I seek the truth, no matter the cost.
If you should find me, return me.
If you should seek me, you need only to present me a puzzle worthy.
The last written page wrote.
I lack the final piece. And now my bones are aching and mouth a desert, and I will be dead by the poison in the hour. The letters I have hidden beneath the floorboards of the dresser. They are the work of months of careful study. I toiled, yet, I will never know the truth.
I find myself praying to a god that the truth will appear from heaven and I will be set free.
It will be soon. More than in my breath, I know it not by logic but by feeling. My time has come. And I have pen, ink, and paper to be my confidant and friend. Why am I so lonesome in this dying hour? I never—
The ink runs across the page, and the writing ends.
Digging through the floorboards, I did find it. A letter stack detailing and unravelling things I have only read of in the papers. A mystery that was yet unsolved…
But the papers did clear one thing. And it fit neatly with the rest, and I scribbled it onto the notes with charcoal from the fire, hoping for a sign. But nothing came. ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ I whispered, ‘I have your truth.’ But it did not appear. I thought of the ethereal shape, the words whispered, and the breath and the tongue which made such sounds. ‘I wish to see you again…’
Frost appeared at the window, and a chill came upon my bones. And there it was. By my side, by the dresser, by the dust on the ground. On its knees as I was.
As beautiful as the first moment. As tempting as fire to my convictions. Its fingers, now made form, were ice upon my ever-aching leg. I felt skin upon mine. Nails racked beyond my layers and sent shivers through my spine.
‘Mine.’ It crawled further towards me.
I did not turn away.
I could not.
And its kiss was the sweetest death. Even now that it has gone, where it went as it took my soul, I feel it on my lips. Chill turned to burning, craving drove me forward, and I felt its weight heavy upon mine.
It is hard to write now. My hands are turning cold and blue. The lamp does nothing for my warmth. I am dying. I know this. More than in my breath, I know it not by logic but by feeling. My time has come. But I am not lonesome in my dying hour. With every further gasp, it returns to me. Appearing all the more in colour. Soon, we shall be joined in this afterlife.
I do not regret. I only hope I will be forgiven.
For, god, I am not your strongest servant.
And I would not win this battle—
The charcoal runs across the page of the journal, and the writing ends.
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The game we created for the Nanoreno game jam, Ballads at Midnight, is out now in itchio! It's an ennemy to lover romance with a victorianish setting, a vampire and lot of sarcastic banter❤️ It's free, give it a try!!!
When a sarcastic bard is arrested and exiled to an abandoned castle, she expected to be at the mercy of a hungry, blood-thirsty vampire. She soon discovers that the vampire, Lucius, is not starving: he is gravely bored. She may just survive on borrowed time, one ballad each midnight.
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#tallys#shepherds of haven#anoTHEr onE#the effort put into the backgrounds is as always non existent
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Lavinet - Shepherds of Haven
#shepherds of haven#lavinet#A quick drawing of Lavinet during.. chapter 6? idk#don't quote me on it.#i think during the party she was wearing a dove gray dress so here's my take on it
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Lavinet - Briony - Tallys - Shepherds of Haven
based on THIS
So this was supposed to be a collection of 10 imgs with all SoH ROs.. but it's been a month now since i last touched this and i don't feel like going back to it so it's fair to say i'm probably not gonna finish it c': altho i still hope that maybe one daY..
But since i don't want these 3 pics to go to waste either.. here they are. AND Before somebody hits me with a 'whY aRe thEre tiTtY wiNdoWs it'S noT pRacTIcAl', well how about u contemplate over this: who needs armor when u have sex appeal. I have said my piece.
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Recently i replayed Shepherds of Haven (and truth been told, last time i played, it only had like one chapter available.. now it has 7 c':) ...... and felt compeled to draw possible outfits/variations of the uniform of the Order.
Now, i'll be honest and say that i'm not the most attentive reader, so frankly i have no idea what time period&fashion style this game is going for, what outfits characters wear or what the 'official' uniform looks like.. so this is just.. a quick uninformed not-very-serious attempt.
My sincerest apologies for butchering the chars c':
#shepherds of haven#lavinet#shery#tallys#briony#will i butcher more chars? probably not#i'm not that cruel#and on the off chance that the author sees this#chapter4 mekduk path plzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
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