Belphegor's scribbles and doodles

ALT

ALT

As a fellow gnome, I’ll handle the talking.

Redraw of this great little moment in Vox Machina: Origins Vol. 2 when Scanlan, Keyleth and the twins are looking for Grog and meet Pike for the first time - and Scanlan is struck speechless :D (which is a huge thing, for a bard, especially this one!) He just stares at her with heart eyes in the two pages after this one and doesn’t utter a single word until she scries on Grog and gasps (at which point he drops all pretence of chill and worriedly asks “Was it Grog? Is he all right?” GOD I LOVE MY BIG AND SMALLS.) (anyway.)

I’ll just let the man describe this moment in his own words (ie. his “do not open till I’m dead” letter to Pike):

The moment I first saw you was not a choir of angels singing, nor silly butterflies fluttering in my chest. No, the moment I met Pike Trickfoot was the tragic moment I realized that my heart, my soul, would be forever incomplete without you.

That darn bard is good with words, huh :D Provided he has the brainspace for it, anyway.

Original comics page under the cut!

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ALT

Here’s my contribution for the Critical Frames project! It’s a non-profit fan project where artists redraw frames to recreate the “It’s Thursday Night” opening with characters in the place of their players. I requested a Pike and Scanlan frame and I got Frame #237, which does have both gnomes, if not quite in the way I thought it might :D Loved working on it, though. The original frame has a lot of chaotic energy and it was very fun to try to recreate it. (also I got to give my girl Vex ALL the gold and gems! She deserves ‘em 💎)

Deadline is April 12th and there’s lots of frames remaining! More information on the Critical Frames Bluesky page. If you want to join here’s the form :o)

talesandfluff:

it’s just Sam and Ashley but their expressions are so Pikelan coded

You know what? You’re 100% right

ALT

Pike wearing blue plaid feels right to me but I draw (heh) the line at drawing Scanlan in Sam’s yellow unitard :P I don’t know what he’s supposed to be looking at. Maybe they’re playing Bunions and Flagons with Grog again, since Pike didn’t get to play last time. In that came, picture a bunch of character sheets and dice on the table!

(she loves her smart dumbass so much 💛💜)

Last chapter! Twice as long as the others because Grog took a hold of the PoV and didn’t let go (to my delight, I love writing the big guy 💜) Here’s the link to AO3!

When Vox Machina are hired to recover a cursed amulet that might “burn them all”, it seems at first glance that they narrowly escape the consequences – again.
Turns out, there are lots of ways to define “burn”.

The Mechanics of Spellcasting

V.

Sometimes it was almost weird to Grog how gnomes seemed to weigh nothing at all.

He’d always been able to lift Pike, even when they were both little; he’d been young when they had met, but she had been young and really little. The first time she had climbed up the height of him like a cat and settled on his shoulders – to see if she could, to win a bet – it had been as though there had been a spot for her just there all their lives, and they’d just discovered it now.

Something that just… made sense.

It wasn’t quite the same thing with Scanlan, because Pike was Grog’s best buddy in the world, but Scanlan came pretty damn close. He was lighter than Pike, if only because, unlike her, he didn’t wear armour or carry a mace and a shield, but the sensations were pretty much the same. There was warmth where a gnome butt sat, there was wriggling where gnome feet kicked, there was conversation whenever Grog was down to chat. And there was music. When Scanlan wasn’t plucking away at his lute or blowing a tune into his flute, he was usually singing bits of melodies. Sometimes his voice rang out and made Grog’s blood run faster, took away the exhaustion building in his muscles, and made him feel like the most badass motherfucker on the face of the planet. Some other times, Scanlan’s humming just faded into the background, and Grog only noticed it when it stopped.

For being so small, gnomes took up a lot of room when Grog picked them up, one or the other. But their actual weight? Nothing. A watermelon, maybe. Vax would have been heavier, and the dude was a stick.

Take away the wriggling, the conversation, the music noises, the warmth –

(Scanlan’s skin had felt way too hot just before he’d started doing that weird twitching thing, but then after Pike had healed him and he had woken up a bit, he had turned pale and clammy and cold)

– not much remained.

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ALT

I don’t know why those two have grabbed my heart lately more than usual, I’m just going with the flow at the moment. And the flow is saying “BIG AND SMALL(S) HUGS.” I liked the end of season 3 a lot, but also I wanted a hug between those two that wasn’t just for laughs - hence the (kinda) screenshot redraw 💜

Here’s Pike’s PoV for chapter 4 :o) On AO3 here if you prefer.

When Vox Machina are hired to recover a cursed amulet that might “burn them all”, it seems at first glance that they narrowly escape the consequences – again.

Turns out, there are lots of ways to define “burn”.

The Mechanics of Spellcasting

VI.

A storm was raging. Thunder at the door, lightning at the window – Pike was starting to get a bad feeling. Nature things shouldn’t be split up like that.

“Don’t worry, pumpkin,” said Pop-Pop, smiling over his mug of verbena tea, “it’s just the gods having a little conversation.”

“Why do the gods sound like Grog?” Pike asked, and woke up.

The clarity that had prevailed during her dream fractured, leaving her cotton-mouthed and disoriented. Her stomach lurched.

Outside, the thunder continued pounding on the bedroom door. It took her a few seconds to get her brain in working order and recognise the fist that was doing the knocking.

Oh Everlight, that can’t be good, she thought, scrambling around for her clothes – for warmth more than respectability. Both she and Grog often slept in the nude and nobody made a big deal about it.

She ran past Keyleth’s and Vex’s beds on trembling legs, rubbing sleep from her face all the while, and unlocked the door. Grog slouched there in the door frame, buck naked, one clenched hand still raised to knock. His other arm was wrapped carefully around a big bundle of fabric that moved around a little. He looked very pale.

“Buddies, what’s –”

“He shouldn’t be doin’ that. He needs magic.”

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the-french-belphegor:

Chapter 3! I’ll be reblogging with the link to AO3 stat. (And boy, how about this C3 finale, huh ✨)

When Vox Machina are hired to recover a cursed amulet that might “burn them all”, it seems at first glance that they narrowly escape the consequences – again.

Turns out, there are lots of ways to define “burn”.

The Mechanics of Spellcasting

III.

When they’d all finished their drinks and gone up to bed, cheerful and pleasantly tipsy, Vax hadn’t really expected Scanlan to actually be asleep. Yet even Grog accidentally dropping his spaulder, strap, and axe on the floor a couple of feet from him didn’t make him twitch. He hadn’t even untied his hair.

Vax grumbled at the trail of clothes leading up to the bed, but he still gathered them up and stuffed them into Scanlan’s pack. Due to the vagaries of fate and of their chosen profession, their entire lives were in their packs, or close enough, and despite a lackadaisical attitude to a lot of things, Scanlan wasn’t usually so careless with his belongings. Vax could do him this one favour.

The room didn’t have a fireplace, and there was a slight chill in the air. Grog, as usual, didn’t even seem to notice; Percy laid out his greatcoat on top of the covers before slipping under them; Vax found he needed no such precaution, as Scanlan’s body radiated more heat than any warming pan could. The gnome was curled up on himself tightly with only strands of his ponytail sticking out from under the sheets, meaning that spooning was probably off the table for the night. Nevertheless, Vax fell asleep warm, safe, and slightly drunk – as far as he was concerned, ideal conditions. And a rare enough occurrence to count as a win in itself.

At some point during the night he thought he heard a thud. Once past the reflex of Danger? Vex? he heard nothing more, so he went back to sleep immediately.

And woke up later, considerably colder.

He was alone. Scanlan must’ve gone outside to take a leak.

Vax pondered whether it was worth it to get out of bed in order to lay his cloak on top of the covers, like Percy had done, when he became aware of a sound nearby: a familiar voice, singing quietly in a language he didn’t know.

Keep reading

On AO3 here if you prefer!

Chapter 3! I’ll be reblogging with the link to AO3 stat. (And boy, how about this C3 finale, huh ✨)

When Vox Machina are hired to recover a cursed amulet that might “burn them all”, it seems at first glance that they narrowly escape the consequences – again.

Turns out, there are lots of ways to define “burn”.

The Mechanics of Spellcasting

III.

When they’d all finished their drinks and gone up to bed, cheerful and pleasantly tipsy, Vax hadn’t really expected Scanlan to actually be asleep. Yet even Grog accidentally dropping his spaulder, strap, and axe on the floor a couple of feet from him didn’t make him twitch. He hadn’t even untied his hair.

Vax grumbled at the trail of clothes leading up to the bed, but he still gathered them up and stuffed them into Scanlan’s pack. Due to the vagaries of fate and of their chosen profession, their entire lives were in their packs, or close enough, and despite a lackadaisical attitude to a lot of things, Scanlan wasn’t usually so careless with his belongings. Vax could do him this one favour.

The room didn’t have a fireplace, and there was a slight chill in the air. Grog, as usual, didn’t even seem to notice; Percy laid out his greatcoat on top of the covers before slipping under them; Vax found he needed no such precaution, as Scanlan’s body radiated more heat than any warming pan could. The gnome was curled up on himself tightly with only strands of his ponytail sticking out from under the sheets, meaning that spooning was probably off the table for the night. Nevertheless, Vax fell asleep warm, safe, and slightly drunk – as far as he was concerned, ideal conditions. And a rare enough occurrence to count as a win in itself.

At some point during the night he thought he heard a thud. Once past the reflex of Danger? Vex? he heard nothing more, so he went back to sleep immediately.

And woke up later, considerably colder.

He was alone. Scanlan must’ve gone outside to take a leak.

Vax pondered whether it was worth it to get out of bed in order to lay his cloak on top of the covers, like Percy had done, when he became aware of a sound nearby: a familiar voice, singing quietly in a language he didn’t know.

Keep reading

Chapter 2 :o) In which the SHITs return the magic amulet to whom it may concern, get paid, and walk into the sunset with the satisfaction of a job well done. (None of it is a lie - some of it is even true.)

Also on AO3 here!

The Mechanics of Spellcasting

II.

Something had been tickling Scanlan’s nose for the past couple of days, like the start of a sneeze, and he didn’t like that.

Not that it was bad – nowhere near a hangover, or even an actual cold, and certainly nothing to appeal to Pike and Keyleth about for a lesser restoration. Especially just before a potential battle. Nobody had believed a bunch of creepy cultists would just hand over something precious or that the SHITs could have been sneaky enough to steal it from them before getting noticed. But now they had acquired the item they’d been hired to acquire and were looking at at least a couple of slow days, so if Scanlan really was coming down with something, all he’d have to do was ask. If it got bad.

At least nothing was stinging the back of his throat. As a bard, he was well-versed in a number of instruments, but nothing beat a good voice on good lyrics for both entertainment and inspiration, especially with one or both hands occupied.

Since there was nothing he could do about that – the fight had left them all pretty drained, and Scanlan himself only had energy for the small sorts of spells he could do in his sleep – he shoved the annoying tickle to the back of his mind and concentrated on keeping up with the group as they trekked through the swamp.

They found Selja’s house on dryer grassland, thank the gods. From the outside, it was more of a large shack than a house. Even the roof had grass on it. Probably a druid thing.

The door opened at Keyleth’s knock with a whiff of incense and mushrooms as the old dwarf, barely a few inches taller than Scanlan and Pike, blinked up at her under the shawl she’d wrapped around her entire upper half.

“Hi,” said Keyleth brightly. “So… Here’s the amulet.”

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the-french-belphegor:

Me, late October, sick as a dog: “what if I inflicted something like that on a blorbo. as a treat. But also make it about the old spellcaster’s struggle of ’oh shit no spells left’.”

Took me over three months, but there you go :o) Five chapters, will update on Friday evenings (UTC+1). I’ll be reblogging this post with the AO3 link ASAP!

When Vox Machina are hired to recover a cursed amulet that might “burn them all”, it seems at first glance that they narrowly escape the consequences – again.

Turns out, there are lots of ways to define “burn”.

The Mechanics of Spellcasting

I.

An arrow whizzed past Vex’s ear, close enough for the sound to kiss a trail of goosebumps around her shoulder.

“How many of those fuckers are armed?” she muttered around clenched teeth.

She didn’t expect an answer, but she got one anyway, along with a sudden rustle of leaves very close.

“I counted ten.” Only the familiarity of a voice she knew as well as her own stopped her from going for her dagger. “But now I’m thinking there might be more inside the main temple.”

Vex took two seconds to raise an eyebrow at her twin.

“In those ruins? Please, there’s hardly any ceiling left and it’s a wonder half the walls are still standing. Do you really think—”

This time the arrow took a bit of skin and cloth, and Vex hissed. The stinging pain in her arm was not enough to throw her aim: her own arrow sailed fast and true and buried itself into one of the cultists, who let out a cry. Then, unexpectedly, another, a bit gurgling.

Vax grinned as his bloody dagger flashed back in his hand.

“Oh come on!” Vex protested. “I had this one!”

“And now you don’t have to finish him. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Find your own damn cultists and leave me my—what the hell is this now?”

Keep reading

On AO3 for those who prefer!

Me, late October, sick as a dog: “what if I inflicted something like that on a blorbo. as a treat. But also make it about the old spellcaster’s struggle of ’oh shit no spells left’.”

Took me over three months, but there you go :o) Five chapters, will update on Friday evenings (UTC+1). I’ll be reblogging this post with the AO3 link ASAP!

When Vox Machina are hired to recover a cursed amulet that might “burn them all”, it seems at first glance that they narrowly escape the consequences – again.

Turns out, there are lots of ways to define “burn”.

The Mechanics of Spellcasting

I.

An arrow whizzed past Vex’s ear, close enough for the sound to kiss a trail of goosebumps around her shoulder.

“How many of those fuckers are armed?” she muttered around clenched teeth.

She didn’t expect an answer, but she got one anyway, along with a sudden rustle of leaves very close.

“I counted ten.” Only the familiarity of a voice she knew as well as her own stopped her from going for her dagger. “But now I’m thinking there might be more inside the main temple.”

Vex took two seconds to raise an eyebrow at her twin.

“In those ruins? Please, there’s hardly any ceiling left and it’s a wonder half the walls are still standing. Do you really think—”

This time the arrow took a bit of skin and cloth, and Vex hissed. The stinging pain in her arm was not enough to throw her aim: her own arrow sailed fast and true and buried itself into one of the cultists, who let out a cry. Then, unexpectedly, another, a bit gurgling.

Vax grinned as his bloody dagger flashed back in his hand.

“Oh come on!” Vex protested. “I had this one!”

“And now you don’t have to finish him. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Find your own damn cultists and leave me my—what the hell is this now?”

Keep reading

davesartdesk asked:

Crazy idea just rattled into my head . Grog and scanlan do an outfit swap 🤣

Sorry it took me two weeks, I was finishing a fic. Crazy idea? Maybe, but it tickled my fancy and once I was done laughing I had to try drawing this :D

Let’s say (for some reason!?) they’ve been invited to a masked ball post-campaign (Pike had other engagements and had to bow out)

ALT

(What about Grog’s costume, you ask? Scanlan knows a guy. They kept their own boots, though, good boots that fit are hard to find! Oh, and the thing on Scanlan’s shoulder? A rabbit skull. Hopefully the proportions work, but gnomes are small, y'all.)

And since Scanlan had to ask “What could go wrong?” (he really should know better at this point)…

ALT

Skeletons! Screams! Shenanigans! Luckily there were two adventurers from the renowned Vox Machina on hand to deal with the problem 😁 Scanlan stole a flute from a terrified musician and Grog grabbed… whatever he could find that worked. But at least he had a good time, which is the important thing, really 💜