voidfishbitch
Back To The Hellsite I Go
Put my face on tumblr, we’ll see when that bites me in the ass. Mostly screaming about Ethersea. Not spoiler freeSame @ on Insta & tiktok.
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Last Seen Blogs
mymegha8-blog
Untitled
mrayie
Pecinta Si Tetek Besar 🍉🍉
grungegoths
They hate to see a girlboss winning
chiaroscoe-blog
19!
tayashi
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attempt at drawing the Ballaster Kodira design I’ve been rotating around in my head for a little while, I ❤️ old woman yuri
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shitpost redraw from a month ago of that one breaking bad comic, pretend this was posted in June
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「a scattered dream that’s like a far off memory」
「a far off memory that’s like a scattered dream」
「i want to line the pieces up, yours and mine」
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wait wait disregard that last one. joan of arc kodira.
You watched me draw this so you know i said it already but i think the color blocking fucks
(palettes here!)
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SO DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO FEAR IN THE DARKNESS OF THIS ATMOSPHERE!
[ID: A digital painting of Devo La Main from TAZ Ethersea and a male betta fish in an extremely dark setting, almost reminiscent of an aquarium tank in the dark.
Devo is a young half-elf man with brown skin, dark hair in a partial bun and blue eyes. From his neck, two purple gill covers and frills are shown in a flared position, extending outward. The scales from the frills extend up to his jawline and his cheeks. He is wearing a leather jacket with scale-like patterns.
The betta fish is the same color as Devo’s frills, but with a darker head and lighter fins and tail. Like Devo, his gills are also flared out in aggression.
Both are coldly staring down at the viewer, though Devo looks particularly furious with his eyes widened. There are light blue highlights accenting his figure. End description]
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heather house seal amber...
selkie amber trying to swallow a fish whole our beloved
(palettes here!)
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can we pretend that blinksharks in the ether-sea are like shooting stars.............. i oculd really use a wish right now wish right now wish right now..............
a candlenights drawing for my friend @taakosleftshoe that is completely late.<3 im so sorry ilysm
(id in alt!)
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chibi charm concepts of my Ethersea designs I want to make for myself soon,,,I need to have them with me always
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woe. coriolis crew post infinite clam redraw
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average Coriolis discussion (feat Kodeira)
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I'm still obsessed with Lady Godwin's build. I was doodling all three of the new taz gang and then I detoured and started drawing Godwin's other looks. I referenced Edwardian circus costumes for her prizefighter fit (I just now realized I forgot the axe :/)
ID: Three drawings of Lady Elizabeth Godwin, an elderly white woman in Edwardian attire. On the right, she has her original body, which is short and understated. The caption above her reads, "Lady Elizabeth Godwin 7 years before story begins (Pre-Frankenstein Reanimation)." She wears a large navy hat with plume feathers, a pale green dress, and gold and emerald jewelry. The middle drawing is of her on her current body, much taller and more curvaceous. Her skin is now pale blue and there is a beauty mark on her left breast. She wears the same hat, now secured with a wine-colored scarf wrapped around her head and neck. She wears a bold pink dress with a plunging neckline that wraps around her waist. On the right, she wears the hat without the scarf, revealing the staples and bolts connecting her head to her body. She is wearing a costume-like corset and bloomers set in gold, fuschia, and navy, as well as dark brown heeled boots. End ID.
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i just think that she'd pose holding a blinkshark like those straight dudes on tinder do with a bass
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arm wrestling. for normal reasons.
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this is a load of barnacles…
tfw ur coworker is flying off the handle again
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Since Griffin mentioned Devo during today's stardew stream, I was compelled to draw Devo la Main a Stardew portrait!
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There are some things Davenport knows.
He counts them sometimes, the things he knows.
His name; how to tie his shoes with twelve different knots; how the Madame Director likes her coffee.
The rules of playing Fantasy Chess, and how to cheat at Fantasy Chess too.
How to tell when someone is afraid
How to make his bed, so tight and neat he can drop a coin on it and it jumps, newly polished and gleaming, right back into his hand
How to bandage up to twenty different kinds of injuries
How to make the best sea chowder on the Moon Base, and also on the planet
How to press a uniform so it lasts a week and several explosions with no crinkled corners
How to organise reports with proper colour-coding techniques
Not a great many words, when it comes to that - slippery as fishtails, words, hard to grasp in the mind and impossible to put into his mouth
How to laugh, and how to cry
How to be helpful, if not always in the most efficient way
Some very complicated geometry and arithmetic, though not the word for geometry, nor how to write down an equation to explain how he got his results.His name, the names of his colleagues, where he is, what time of the day it is, what happened yesterday.
His name, his name, even when he doesn't know anything else, his name is Davenport -
Most days, anyway
He cries, sometimes, over bowls of spicy soup and at cute dogs, when someone leaves a book half-open on the table - when he sees groups of people laughing, and when he's alone for a long time. He is rarely alone. The Madame Director finds him, every time. Brings him biscuits and jam, shares puzzles, gives him folders to file.
She tries to teach him new words from brightly coloured books, sometimes. Not often; Davenport hates to make her unhappy, and she looks very sad, whenever he fails. He hates failing - this he knows for certain. But regardless of what he does, the Director is sad a lot of the time. Busy, busy; but she goes very still, late at night, and writes lists in strange languages with shifting characters, and then burns them, with a look on her face like stone, like a closed fist. He sweeps the ashes, afterwards; there's nothing in them he can understand.
No one sees her in those hours. Only Davenport is there, with no one else around. Davenport does not count as company, really. Or at least the Madame Director trusts him enough to let him see her when it's very late and she is very tired, and there is too much work for a night's rest.
It's nice, being trusted. Davenport likes it, likes his little tasks, his schedule and his friends. He knows every corner of the Moon Base, except the ones he is not supposed to enter; he has a little map sewn into his coat pocket, for when he forgets he knows every corner of the Moon Base.
He loves slow music, and sea chowder, and to drink his tea (the Director makes it, sometimes; she knows just how he likes it) while standing behind the transparent windows and watch the planet down below, all green and blue and changeful, like a face with many moods.
He knows he likes these things.
It is only that, sometimes, Davenport is very full of a painful feeling, a feeling like being full of smoldering fire, a feeling like --
Anger has no face, no colour. Davenport does not know a lot of things; sometimes he grasps at the softened edges of his mind, looking for something sharp enough to cut himself with. Davenport is angry, sometimes, though he has no words for it. Sometimes, anger is the only real thing in Davenport's world, the first thing he ever knew.
And then he forgets about it.
There are few things Davenport knows. He can feel the shape of something very important, prodding at him, filling him up with a warm, unpleasant energy. It is there when he wakes, for a handful of moments - every day, in the dreaming place between wakefulness and sleep. Like a dream, it fades before he is done dressing for the day. He has no words for it. The truth is, most days Davenport only knows his name is Davenport, and the worst of it is Davenport forgets there might be anything missing.
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