I think, in the far future, I will relaunch askmolestia.
New art, new look for the blog, new technique.
Same thing for Iris, but she’s a bit of a lesser priority.
If you for some reason are interested in my other stuff between then, I am now most active at phylophyle.tumblr.com
1. Draw animal genitalia
2. Act like it’s a big deal
3. Receive notes
Oh followers, you’re so silly.
irishasseen.tumblr.com is heavily influenced by many other sources of media. However, what I would say is the largest influence is the play “Equus”, by Peter Shaffer. It’s very good. There’s a movie version, too.
Thank you! Let me know who you people are, if you like, so I can thank all of you in person (well, in person over the internet). It’s not a huge deal, I suppose, but it’s the thought that I appreciate.
I’ll keep running it. It’s not gonna be as popular as Molestia, but it’s fun. I’ll throw some drawings up on it soon, so it’s not so bare-bones conent-wise.
Step one: Draw Picture
Step two: Hide picturefailure behind liberal use of smudge tool
Step three: Post
AnonymousNah, it’ll probably end at the same time as October, then we’ll go back to regular Molestia. I’m going to use it as an opportunity to maybe make an offshoot blog that’s going to be more narrative that would continue the October arc, because I kind of like writing it. That will be an offshoot and a separate blog, so after October this one will go back to normal. (Normal meaning horse-sex everywhere.)
Heh, thanks. I like Halloween, so I decided to use the whole month. Secondly, what’s exactly is happening… there are clues given in the text. One person at least has figured out the gist of it. Basically, an accident has caused quite a big identity crisis for the blog’s protagonist. At least it’s an excuse to work on my short-styled interpretive writing abilities. Wish I could do better art, though.
When I awake, it’s daytime and it’s almost noon. I’m too tired to think about it. I hurt, covered in scratches from the bushes and branches. Some cuts are quite deep. I limp home, but ever since I’ve felt as if I had a tight belt around my throat and little embers behind my eyes. Feels like my bones have gotten too sharp for my skin.
That was not it, and it can’t be it. It never caught me. It never caught me because I outran it and it couldn’t have done anything. That’s why they don’t need to know. That’s why they know that I broke up a fight between badgers and not that some loping, panting thing scared my throat closed and lit my skin on fire.
(This is an excerpt from a Halloween inspired first person, fluttershy-is-a-werewolf story I’m working on.)
