#centra

a whole bunch of unposted stuff i found while cleaning out my art folders!! enjoy a bunch of dudes. from top to bottom, left to right:

an unfinished attempt at a parasite from Metroid Prime

a minecraft creeper re-imagined as a weird buggy thing

Carbine, a tecquel with long prosthetic legs, from my story "Old and Gold"

a fungus doggo!

some ing from Metroid Prime 2: Echoes

Centra, a character i started but then discarded for some reason

a lizard lady

an infestation, a parasitic creature from my story "Where the Stars Writhe"

another infestation

Tak'hara, a demon lady from my story "Sun Smoke and Scales"

It, admittedly, takes Hastur about five minutes to notice that they aren’t moving at all, despite how much more than ten seconds had passed. She looks up, and sees that other passengers look equally as confused. When she strains her ears, she can hear variations of “Is there a delay?” and “Did something happen?”, although it doesn’t seem like anyone has an answer.

She looks at the two passengers in the seats next to her. One of them was the dejected individual she’d seen earlier, asleep with their arms crossed. Hastur stares at the design on their shirt, and glances to her left at the girl beside her, swinging her legs and humming. 

You hand the neatly folded junior cert paper to the examiner. It is the sixty-second so far. You do not know when it will stop.

You take another teabag from the packet and throw it into your cup. You look again and there is another cup. You wonder who you are to share the tea with but then you hear it behind you.

You leave Dublin and are hit with a smell. You know it's slurry. You know the farmers are responsible. You don't know why, and you don't want to.

You're driving through a small town. You look to your left and there is a centra. There's always a centra.

You are asked again: "King or Tayto?". Deep down you know that both are godless religions.

The Sunflower is a void filled with spice bags

You stand in the mist, somewhere in the Burren. It is cold, and you are lost. You feel a sudden warmth in your heart, and you know. You know that Michael D. is near.

At night you hear the screams of combat as the local supervalu and the local centra carry out ritual combat to assert their dominance.

You are asked who left the immersion on. You do not no, and no-one ever will.

Do it for the craic. The craic demands it.

gowan gowan goWAN GOWAN GOOOWAAAAAN

You are asked to select you weapons, and there in front of you is a chicken fillet roll and an Irish textbook.

You hear voices calling from within the sraithpictuir. You ignore them.

You were never told what the Guinness storehouse stores. You don't want to know.

It's always raining. It is the curse of a long forgotten deity for not inviting him in for a cuppa.

Enda Kenny comes from a lawless time. You no not who he is, let alone what he is.

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