Scifirenegade's Trash Can

In which Erik came to me in a dream like this. I shall not elaborate what happened next.



I honestly have no idea. You eat those chips, Andersen. Clayton won't resist for long, I bet.



Another year, another slutty Marquis. The background was done in oil pastel (it looks like crayon but shhh) and the man himself was drawn digitally, then printed. He can be held!



I cry because Satanas (1920) is lost. I cope by stealing Doré's Paradise Lost illustrations and drawing Connie in them. It's also the happiest I've been with my art in a long time.



Aaaaand Rarest of Rarepairs had a lingerie prompt. I still can't draw Valerie Hobson, so she's pulling a Deborah. Work the stocking's Captain o7