Might seem like a weird question or even too early to ask so apologies. I want to read your comic Beneath the Woods but I'm old, Gandalf. Reading things online confuses me now. Will you publish it? I'm a physical media stan.
Hey there! : D I definitely prefer physical media as well, so one of my goals was to publish the comic at some point. (I was legitimately trying to peruse publishing like 2 years into making it asdfhoaids lol) However, it's not complete and I have no intentions of completing it, so I don't see a reason to publish it unless I do like a compilation of the first two chapters. (If there's interest in this, please let me know!! However, right now, it's very unlikely)
That being said, I'm releasing the story as a novel now instead, and publishing it as a physical book is one of my priorities as I'm completing different sections of the series! I don't know if I'll peruse publishing it through a publishing company or going the self-publishing route yet with it, though. But yeah, once I finish the first act, I'll start figuring out what route I want to go in terms of publishing the story.
tl;dr (cause I rambled lmao): I want to publish the story, but I stopped making the webcomic and I don't feel like there's a point in publishing two chapters of a comic. However, publishing the novel is one of my top priorities down the line, but I'm not at a spot yet where I can publish it.
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Oooohhh for the Hurt Comfort Prompt: 7 and/or 12 for Dracfield.
Hehe this was fun. Admittedly I also just like writing Renfield high,,,
"Look at me."+"Can you talk?"
CW: Drugs, Mentioned/implied torture
Renfield was floating. His body felt weightless, his skull a cavern of helium as the world around him seemed to be in slow motion. Part of him ached, somewhere in that distant cloud that made up his body, but he wasn’t worried. Nothing felt like it mattered. It was quite delightful, actually. He wondered how long he had been like this and how long he could stay like this, remembering other aches and stress and anxiety being so normal that they had become his comfort, but only knowing now this sort of peace. It was nice. He could die like this and it would be okay with him.
But something didn’t want him to die.
He could feel that, too. An intruder in the otherwise perfect sanctum of his mind. A shadow moved in front of him, the world blurred by those who moved outside of Renfield. Their movement left smears across his vision, like swaths of paint attached to an invisible brush. It made him smile, the world a canvas of blending colors and paintbrush strokes of people.
“Renfield!” One blurry shadow had taken over the rest of the colors, someone coming close but the details of their face impossible to make out. It was an angry shadow, a noise of frustration at his apparent lack of response. Renfield frowned at it.
He turned his head away from the shadow; the world behind it was so much more red, splatters and smears across beige. It was pretty, so he smiled.
“Look at me,” the shadow snapped, cold fingers capturing his cheek and pulling him back to stare at the darkness. The dark had red, too, and gold, and silver, all attached to the pale grey hand so close to his eyes.
Dracula sighed at the despondent Renfield, the man's eyes blown so wide the only color in them were slivers of sky blue making a halo around the black of his pupil. It seemed the church was getting more creative with its attempts at interrogation, picking up on the current fad of drugging and torturing for information. His fangs grit together in frustration at the fact Renfield had been caught by them at all.
He expected better from his servant.
But he wouldn’t exact punishment now, not when his familiar was too drugged to feel it. Besides, the sheet of blood that covered half his face and blossoms of red that bloomed across his white undershirt meant he would need to recover from all of this first.
No point in beating a dead horse. Or dead familiar.
“Can you talk?” Dracula snapped, dropping his chin and watching Renfield’s head bob down without the support.
“Ruining my painting,” he slurred, his own voice sounding like the visual of melting colors that dazzled him. The features of the shadow were growing sharper, clearer. “Master?”
The vampire sighed.
“Didn’t tell them anything,” Renfield said slowly, his brows coming together in a comical look of fear as though everything had finally dawned on him. It probably was. His gaze dropped, looking around the room in confusion. A shudder ran through him and he looked back up at Dracula. “Can we go home? I feel dizzy…”
“We can go home, Renfield,” Dracula said, anger dissipating as he pulled the man into his arms. He could be angry at him later.
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Hmmmmmmm this is a hard one, because I don't know if there is a trope I would just never write? I suppose Mpreg?? It just has always been one of those hard stops for me in fics, just not my thing.
