Oh Wow, I Had Forgotten That Existed

Oh wow, I had forgotten that existed 🤣

Okay but WHY THE FUCK does Lancelot look like he's flipping the bird at someone!?

"You lazy fuck! It's literally three feet behind you!" "Who fucking pays you?!"

about the WIP game, I'm curious about Oh My Goth! (I'm a very predictable man, I know) and Shitshow

Well, you pretty much know most of what is in OMG! anyway 😝 (my asks, some bits from the comic and other added bits that you've already seen and some that I'll probably send you when they're ready) so I'm going to answer about Shitshow.

In his mind Poeleirus Pariseau is a most important person. Well, he is mage to the king, there are hardly more important people in the land. He would also argue that there isn't much that would faze him but when he wakes up in a cage, stripped of his magic, after having vivid memories of dying he is quite shaken. And what's more, there isn't only one of him, but six! Who has worked this infernal magic and for what purpose? Is it a curse to punish him for his arrogance? Or a second chance to live a better life?

He opened his eyes. Slowly the light seeped into his mind. He blinked. Dead? No. Alive. Breathing. Strange. Sleeping? No. Awake. Lying down on a hard surface covered with cloth. Metal bars. Metal bars? He rose. Inspected his hands. Moved. His last recollection of this body was different. More strained. Right now he felt… Younger? How was he younger? He remembered dying. He touched the bars. They were cold. Steel. He gripped them with his hands and pulled. They were immovable. When he looked around for a door. There was one in the ceiling of the cage but he could not reach it. As he looked around he saw them. Other cages. Just like his. Five of them. And in them, lying on the ground on a green cloth… He had to grip the bars of his cage so he wouldn’t fall over. For a moment or two he thought he might die again. They were all the same. The same as he. Who was he? Did he remember? Yes. He did remember. He was Poeleirus Pariseau. Mage to the king. But which king? Was there still the same king? He remembered dying. For all he knew he could have been dead for decades. Another stirred. And the third. He closed his eyes, still gripping the metal bars, trying to summon his magic but nothing happened. He remembered the words, the incantations. He even remembered where he’d learned them, where he’d read them again and again and seared them into his mind. But they would not do his bidding. They seemed to be just words. How was this possible? “What in tarnation is this trickery?!” one of the others shouted and tried to shake the bars. He opened his eyes again and surreptitiously inspected the others. Did they also wake as Poeleirus Pariseau? Were they all the same? He decided not to speak. Some of the others shouted some more, at the cage and each other. Two of them began to argue which one of them was the real Poeleirus Pariseau. So that is it then, he thought to himself. We are all the same. And then he saw another face. Hiding in the shadow of the corner of the room. It was a familiar face. It looked older, but he recognised it. “Reangene…” he whispered. Reangene smiled in the shadow but didn’t move. “Why?” he whispered. Reangene didn’t speak but his face said ‘You know why’.

WIP GAME!

"black unicorn" has me very intruiged 👀

Black Unicorn is the story of Ardor de las Montañas, the... well... black unicorn. He is created by a necromancer from volcanic fire and the corpse of a white unicorn as a soulless harvester of life blood for the necromancers magic. One night the volcano erupts again and the necromancers magic and the horrific thunderstorm and molten rock create a magical explosions which awakens a soul in the created creature. Horrified by the memories of his deeds he breaks his reins and flees from the necromancer. For a long time he hides in a dark forest until one day he meets Pequeño, a mandrake in the shape of a child, a servant to a witch who was murdered. The created creatures without masters set out on a journey to avenge the murder of Pequeños creator and ward.

She had only gone a short way when she saw something in the faint light slipping between the trees. She saw the lower half of a face and slender fingers playing a wooden flute. A couple of intrepid sunbeams came hurtling through the thick canopy and bounced off a boot as polished as the kings crown. Something seemed strange to her but she couldn’t quite see through the trees. The flute player stopped and put the flute down. “I can see you, child,” he said with a deep voice. There was music in his voice as well which seemed to echo through the forest. The girl swallowed. “Will you eat me? Cause if you want to eat me I must warn you that I am poisonous. I’m not actually a child, I’m a mandrake.” The flute player laughed. “I have no interest in eating you, child.” The girl peered into the trees. Between them a small glade was being illuminated by the morning sun which made it harder for her to see him sitting on a fallen log where it was darker. “Why are you hiding in the dark? Are you scary?” She could just make out a grin. “What is a mandrake doing all alone in this big forest?” he asked back. “I asked you first,” the girl replied. “Fair enough,” the flute player said and jumped off the log. As he stepped into the light in the glade the girl let out a small gasp and shrunk back into the dark on her side of the pool of light. She realised quickly why it had been so hard to see him in the dark. All his clothes were black: his shiny boots with their pointy toes, his tight fitting pants, his sash tied into a knot at the back, his shirt with two pairs of cufflinks and his tunic. He had black hair sticking into the air like a mane, his eyebrows and long eyelashes were black and he had black paint around his white eyes like some kind of mountain savage. But the blackest of all was the horn in his forehead, sticking almost half a metre into the air. It looked like it was made out of melted black rock. It had a kink in the middle as if it had grown around something and there was a crack in the top of it. She thought she could see something red in the crack but she wasn’t sure. Of all this though what she found the strangest was that he was wearing what could only be described as a bridle with a metal ring around the base of his horn and straps going down across his nose and the back of his head. From two smaller rings on the side of his face hung two straps which looked like torn reins. “What are you?” she whispered. “I am a black unicorn. Ardor de las Montañas, at your service,” he said with a big smile and bowed. She thought she saw a flash of fangs. “You are scary,” she said. “Thank you.” “But you’re not black,” she continued. “Why are you a black unicorn?” He kneeled down in front of her. “What colour is this?” he asked and pointed at his horn. “Uh, black,” she replied. “There. Black horn, black unicorn. That’s all there is to it.”

more cuts.

LOL! they are very pretty though 😁😁

for the WIP game: I want to know about fwgrmg_ig only because I'm having too much fun trying to pronounce it 😝

asdfagsafhj its an acronym lol

"Fuck We're Ghost Rider Magical Girls_i guess"

its a kinda boring doodle sheet lmao