Crispy Parsnips
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crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Crispy Parsnips
@crispyparsnips.bsky.social
430 followers 64 following 140 posts
The infimum of many evils. A barbigerous illustrator, OC-hoarder, mathematician, shiny-peddler and rambler. Hopes he can help you smile more.
https://www.crispyparsnips.com
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crispyparsnips.bsky.social
My quaint fantasy world of Avonvale has just been quietly simmering in the back of my mind for a while. So when I started making newsletter comics it seemed right to give it a whimsical little outlet. Anywho, here's Mira having a perfectly sensible time.
A four-panel comic strip. In the first panel we see Mira, a small bandana-clad girl, standing proud at the bow of a small row-boat splashing through the calm waters of the ocean. Behind her Zig, a rope-golem, dutifully rows. SPLOOSH! All of a sudden a giant purple, tentacled beast erupts from the water! Mira and Zig leap in shock! But Mira has a plan! Abandon ship! She leaps over the opposite edge of the boat, pointing authoritatively as Zig leans forward to stop her. We then cut to reality where a very muddy Mira leaps from a high-hanging flower pot down into the arms of her surprised dad Pero. Zig, still in the flower pot, reaches down in an attempt to grab her, their other hand holding onto a wooden spoon.
November 18, 2025 at 2:16 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Catching up posting old newsletter comics, here's Mal being characteristically compliant with external instruction.
The sun peeks through the curtain of a blue-purple bedroom, it's blue-haired, pink-pajama'd occupant Malakhi gurgling in bed as it shines directly onto his face. CRASH! BANG! SMASH! Other such onomatopoeia are heard outside the room as Malakhi reluctantly begins to struggle upright. "Well, Emm's awake. Guess I'd better get up..." he relents. On his bedside table his phone begins to shine and vibrate. Beep. Beep. Beep. A now very animate and angry Malakhi leans over the phone, eyes-wide with rage, and shouts at it 'SHUT UP!'. As Mal turns back to being wrapped deeper in his quilt, we hear the burbling 'BLLP BLLP' of his phone half-submerged in a glass of water.
November 10, 2025 at 4:50 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Tis the season to be spooky and such. So here's Jay getting a little decadent with it.
In a dark, red-tinted room, Jay in antiquated garb leans back in a wing-back chair silhouetted against a roaring fire. Decanting a glass of wine he looks up at the viewer, smiling laconically. Jay: Oh, hello. Care to partake in some wine? It is rather a... full-bodied vintage. In the following panel Jay rears up to us, wine glass in hand, mouth agape to show vampiric incisors. They stare down at us, cackling menacingly. Jay: Which is more than can be said about where it came from! Muhahahaha! Snap back to reality, Jay's boyfriend Kay walks in and picks up the decanter, looking at it incredulously, somewhat undercutting Jay's intended spooky tone. Kay: You don't like wine. Jay: Uh-huh~ It's not wine, it's blood. Kay: ...What kind? Jay: Blackcurrant.
October 31, 2025 at 3:43 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
And thus we reply with additional images, as the scrolls decree.
A side-by-side comparison of the original Norman Rockwell piece (left) and the study (right). The original shows a young woman in Kay's place with a less concerned expression.
October 24, 2025 at 3:38 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
It has been drop-kicked to my attention (thanks @crossroadart.bsky.social) that art is better posted here one image at a time thereby allowing people to, you know, actually see it. So here's Kay once again pondering his life choices in the style of Norman Rockwell.
A digitally-painted study of a Norman Rockwell piece. In a pale yellow room, standing atop mottled green rug around brown wood furniture and floorboards stands Kay. He wears a red tartan shirt tucked into crumpled blue jeans, turned up over white socks and brown loafers. This contrasts with the soft, shimmering fabric of the layered, ruffled ball gown he holds up to his body, staring at his reflection in a full-length mirror. We see his face in the reflection, a conflicted look of longing lingers on it.
October 24, 2025 at 3:35 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Was commissioned to draw @darksunrebel.bsky.social's happy dwarf-dad Badruk for an Odyssey campaign. Things, it seems, took a turn.
On a warm, sunlit afternoon in an ancient Greek-styled city, a stout dwarven craftsman Badruk leans upon an anvil with a hammer. His braided beard winds between golden rings and cascades over a rune-embossed leather apron, holding a variety of tools and bags. A collapsible, bronze shield leans against the anvil reflecting the roaring fire from the furnace behind. Behind that a market place bustles with activity, covering the steps leading into a grand column-adorned stone temple. Amidst the smoke-filled ruins of an ancient Greek-styled city, a stout dwarven Barbarian rages wildly toward the viewer. Bare-chested with tattered leather skirt and cuffs, he steps forward, arms pinned back as if ready to lunge. Around him lie the crumbling rock and splintered wood of a broken blacksmith's forge and market square. Behind all this crumbles the roof and columns of a great stone temple, enshrouded in plumes of smoke matching the tumultuously orange sky.
October 17, 2025 at 7:52 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
The second instalment of my not-a-newsletter Parsnip Supplement saw us diving into the generally unfulfilling life-story of Beth, the half-orc (and half-elf, if you cared). Thus a plethora of doodles and a singula of painting were hurriedly scribbled as accompaniment.
A rough digital painting of Beth, half-elf, half-orc. Superimposed on a fiery orange background, presumably of a steaming forge, Beth looks over her shoulder with her bright blue eyes and a look of quiet intrigue. Her tied red dreadlocks contrast with her pale green skin clad with a pale fraying shirt and the straps of a leather apron. Brown-tinted doodles of Beth. In the top-left Beth and ChibiNetherlands' dragonborn character Misha bounce along in fantasy armour in a silly dance, repeating the chant ‘Don’t be suspicious. Don’t be suspicious’. To their right sits a Jamie Hewlett-styled Beth sitting grumpily on a box staring at and holding up a manic-eyed torch-bound Flameo. Beneath them is a scribbly, grumpy doodle of Beth staring into the middle distance. Below that sit Beth, a sleepy Flameo and a small goblin Pal, engaging in a short chat. Beth asks them a question as Pal scratches their chin in thought. To the left of them we see a doodle of Beth suited up in shirt, waistcoat and tie, beneath a fedora and staring inquisitively toward the viewer through sunglasses. A small, scrungly cartoon goblin clings onto and bites her shoulder. A variety of brown-tinted doodles of Beth on her Citadel of Chaos adventure, decked out in apron and chain-mail sandals, holding her blacksmith hammer and lantern containing Flameo. On the top left Beth faces nonchalantly behind her, as Flameo gasps noticing that she’s about to step into a giant hole in the floor. To the right, Beth grasps a wine glass by the base and tips it up over her, cascading the wine within into her wide-open mouth. To the right of this Beth clutches her hammer with both hands as she sings a lullaby for a giant, whose murderous intent has been thrown off-guard by this sweet gesture. Below the giant are doodles of Beth and Flameo holding up middle fingers and blowing raspberries. Below that we see Beth, holding out Flameo and a loaf of bread, wander concerned into a room containing a box of toys and three baby orcs piled up mid-play fight. Above them Beth stands barely lit in a pitch-black room assailed by a ghastly face. To the left of them Beth finished her night-time free-fall by landing face-first in a patch of grass. A brown-tinted nighttime doodle of four characters around a roaring campfire. On the left Beth, decked in plate armour, attempts to roast some melting marshmallows on a stick. She is perturbed by the elbow of the floating elf Quill, belonging to DarkSunRebel, resting on her head. He lounges in the air with a big smile stretched beneath his cursed tiara. Also staring up at him is ChibiNetherlands' dragonborn Misha, unimpressed, clutching onto a steaming-hot backed potato. Beneath her lies KiroSveta's halfling Melaina sprawled across the floor, looking away from Quill whilst stifling a giggle.
October 7, 2025 at 3:31 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Someone once said, in a vaguely aggravated manner, that Stoic seems to be able to pull off any style. So as the weather takes a turn for the Autumnal, he thought he'd remind you of his Summer look.
Stoic, a monochrome man with a Moai-esque stone mask, stares forward through a large pair of bright pink, butterfly wing-shaped sunglasses. He is superimposed on a background of blue/green/yellow decorated with pink, scattered blossoms. You know, for effect.
October 4, 2025 at 4:39 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Sometimes a master study perfectly intertwines with your ongoing OC obsession. So here's Norman Rockwell enabling me by giving a young Kay some formative experiences. You'll get there, bud.
A digitally-painted study of a Norman Rockwell piece. In a pale yellow room, standing atop mottled green rug around brown wood furniture and floorboards stands Kay. He wears a red tartan shirt tucked into crumpled blue jeans, turned up over white socks and brown loafers. This contrasts with the soft, shimmering fabric of the layered, ruffled ball gown he holds up to his body, staring at his reflection in a full-length mirror. We see his face in the reflection, a conflicted look of longing lingers on it. A side-by-side comparison between the original Norman Rockwell painting and the study. In the original a young lady stands in the place of Kay.
October 2, 2025 at 8:33 AM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Another not-a-newsletter newsletter Outliers comic, this time exploring how Jay & Kay deal with a rough patch in their relationship. Perfectly sensibly, of course. Mal fully understands.
On a rainy evening an almost entirely dressing gown-clad young man Malakhi, not long roused from sleep, opens his front door. There, much to his concern, he finds his childhood friend Kay standing in the rain, carrying bags in either hand. Kay: Hey bud. Jay and I had a, uh, tiff. Mal: Oh. Fuck. Kay: You got room to crash? Mal: Sure mate, any time, you know that. Kay: Cheers. Kay walks into the house as Mal turns and gestures for him to enter. Before he can close the door however, the aforementioned Jay stumbles through carrying an ill-assorted gaggle of bags and cases. Malakhi is taken aback by their presence, let alone their rather chipper welcome. Jay: Thanks Mal! You're a solid. We cut forward to Malakhi in bed, laying wide-awake beside the cuddling couple who Mal had very much assumed were going through a rough patch. As the two of them snooze in each other's arms Mal stares at them, very confused as to what they needed him for in this equation.
September 26, 2025 at 5:21 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
I like to doodle little parsnips to match the theme and/or style of the games I stream. Naturally I then forget they exist because object permanence was never my forte. To pre-empt this, here are a few recent Snips for your consideration. Imaginary points to anyone who recognises the games.
A dark and dingy doodle of a rather ill-looking parsnip. Their leaves are tattered, eyes sullen and irregular, sweat dripping down their concerned face, as they stand before a counter for your attention. A painting of an anthropomorphised parsnip clad in long, dark coat, readying a slingshot, casting a determined expression to the right. Beside them is a green cube with a single black eye and thin black legs and arms, pointing in the same direction as the parsnip looks. They float on a scribbled stone surface upon a blue background Eight similarly drawn pixel-art parsnips clad in a variety of outfits surround a ninth who leaps in shock wearing a comically exaggerated expression. A drawing of a parsnip with slightly unsettling eyes poking up from the bottom of frame atop a greenhouse wall. In place of normal leaves, the parsnip's foliage is a wild bundle of assorted flora and fungi.
September 23, 2025 at 5:13 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Of all the style challenges I've put myself up to, for some reason I keep coming back to this one of the otherwise human Cuthbert (mine) & Jupiter (@chibinetherlands.bsky.social's) thrust into the world of Great Mouse Detective. I think, and this might be a long shot, it's because it's very silly.
Two characters, Jupiter and Cuthbert, drawn in the anthropomorphised mouse style of 'The Great Mouse Detective'. Jupiter is calmly talking to someone off-screen whilst gripping onto Cuthbert's ear causing him to keel back in pain.
September 19, 2025 at 6:23 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
More newsletter comics! This time October gets some very helpful and absolutely relatable tax help from February. So wholesome.
Frankensteinian constructs October and February loom over a somewhat disorganised pile of tax forms and sticky notes. October leans in with a pen whilst bearing a justifiably beurocracy-borne look of concern. February, squatting behind them, supportively gestures instruction towards various part of the paperwork. February: And that field is where you put your gross earnings for the year. October: … February: That's *before* deductions, sweetie. October: Th-thank you… October scribbles something into the indicated box and turns up to February for approval. October: Ok-kay… February: Super job! Keep going. October: Hmm? February: Write out the rest. October: I've finished. A long awkward pause lingers as the cogs in February's head slowly turn, allowing their smile to slacken and their enthusiastic thumbs-up to droop under gravity. Before long they notice the pause and snap back to their chirpy demeanour, rather more forced then before as they try to be supportive of their sibling, who isn't particularly falling for it. February: Yes! So you have! Silly me! Ha-ha! Super! *Ahem* You're doing just... just *super* sweetie! October: I'm starting to d-doubt that...
September 15, 2025 at 4:24 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
The continuing adventures of the blundering duo and Tori's endeavour to woo August. It's going swimmingly. By which I mean wet.
A comic containing two characters, the pink-shirted minotaur Tori and the green-clad construct August. Tori enters August's gym, nervously clutching a bouquet behind him as best as hooves can. He nervously calls to August who is leaning over some equipment beside a water cooler. Tori: H-hello? Is th- are- can- *Ahem* Are you, umm, August? August: Yo! Tori, isn't it? October said you were hyped to sign up. Tori: Well, not- I'm ju- You're v-... Y-yes. August approaches a blushing Tori and puts their arm around his shoulder, gesturing into the distance. August: Class ain't 'til the hour, so grab any equipment from over there and get warmed up. Tobi told me 'bout the hooves, so I got some special grips for ya. Well, it's some cup holders and velcro, but I gave it a shot. Tori finally reveals the bouquet of flowers tied to his hoof, nervously holding them out to a confused August. Tori: And, uhh... H-here's a little something… August: Whoa, whoa, what's this? Did Tobi tell you there was a deposit or what? Tori: Well, no, I just… August: Right, just... y'know. You can't bribe me into going easy on you. Had some skyscraper types try that already… August grabs the bouquet off of a shrinking Tori. He's desperate to explain, but August has already gotten distracted. Tori: N-n-no! It's nothing like tha- August: Yo, wait, no... Tobi told you I can't decorate good, right? You reckon this place looks like a morgue. Tori: Oh! No! No! That's not… August: Maybe you're on to something there dude. Uh, where do flowers go? Wait… With one quick bouquet-crushing swing August yanks the jug from atop the water cooler off, splashing water everywhere, surprising a recoiling Tori. The jug, now upside down atop the cooler, is having the bottom of a flower bouquet inelegantly smooshed into its opening by an intense-looking August. Tori looks back, rather wetter than before. Before long August has a realisation. August: Wait. You don't know May, do ya? Tori: Umm... no? August: Oh cool. 'Cos they'd dismember me if they saw this.
September 9, 2025 at 5:17 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
A couple of weeks ago we lost our family cat of 17 and a half years, Khikhi. I didn't draw her all that much, alas, but it's nice to have at least something to remember her judgemental gaze and cantankerous demeanour by. 💜
A big-eyed digital painting, a la Margaret Keane, of Khikhi the cat. White fluff accented with orange and brown patches and stripes, her wide green eyes stare innocently at the viewer, keen to demonstrate that she is not, in fact, playing with the line of their fishing rod. Two cats, Khikhi and Pickle, on the front of a Christmas card. Khikhi, a larger fluffy cat, walks away indifferently wearing a Santa hat. Above her comes hurtling down the smaller, wild-eyed Pickle clinging on to the Christmas tree she's pulling down with her, presumably onto Khikhi. At the top of the page on a purple background reads: On a scale of *runs out the room* to indifference, how would Khikhi react to the Outliers? Below this are four monochrome comic illustrations.In the top left a scraggle-haired lady chases the titular cat Khikhi with her arms stretched out. Khikhi skips off unimpressed. To its right Khikhi stands on a table, back arched and hackles raised, hissing at a man. The man in question, Malakhi, grabs the table also with his back raised, hissing right back at her. In the bottom left Khikhi stares up at a bearded man, Rufus, meowing incessantly. Rufus replies, exasperated, with 'What do you WANT!?' In the bottom right Khikhi sleeps, curled up atop the head of Stoic, a man in a stone mask. Stoic, unfazed, stands reading a book/. A thickly-lined cartoon drawing of a fluffy white cat, Khikhi, with brown and black spots and fluffy brown and black tail. She poses away from the viewer, turning her head back to stare at them.
September 7, 2025 at 3:15 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
A little comic showing the first blossoms of infatuation here, both for Tori and myself: Prior to the boyfs this was my first proper crack at a romance plot between OCs. Apparently I forgot to post it when I made it, but it's (three days) less than a year late, so that's fine. #October&Co
Tori and October (a minotaur and Frankensteinian construct respectively) are sat at a table on a blank white background. October pulls photographs from their bag and hands them to Tori to look at. T: Ooh, they're fancy! O: That's June. That was a little fashion show they put on for us. T: Ooh, are they a designer or something? O: N-not really. They run a c-café. Tori peers closely at the next photograph T: Is that... Is that scuba gear? O: Mmm, that's July d-during a diving trip last year. T: In a library? O: They wanted to know how neoprene was made... mid-dive. Tori, being handed the next photo, lurches back wide-eyed. O: Oh, that's Aug-gust at the opening of their gym class. It's just in their garage, b-but it looks very p-professional. October tries to hand Tori the next photograph but he's still staring wide-eyed at it, now blushing lightly. O: And th-this is September... T-tori? Are you okay? October waves a hand in front of Tori's face, Tori blushes harder, still staring at the photograph of August in his hooves. O: Hello? T-tori? T: August, you say? O: Y-yeah. T: Would it perhaps be okay if I could maybe have their number? Please? O: You mean for their c-class? T: ... yes.
September 3, 2025 at 2:17 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
The follow-up interview
Back at their car, the Wendigo asks questions of a now sodden January, leaning forlornly out of the door of the car. The Beholder sits in the passenger seat, as January tries to answer questions despite having no memory. Wendigo: Name? January: Uh… Wendigo: Address? January: … Wendigo: National Insurance Identification? January: I don't think I know any of those words…
August 21, 2025 at 4:39 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
I tend to be one to leave things up to the imagination when possible. It's the lazy writer's way, after all! Unfortunately too many of my friends prodded me about my Calendar characters' origins and I couldn't leave well enough alone. So here's a peek into January's first night. #October&Co
A night-time scene of the silhouette of a city superimposed on a skyline of fireworks. In the foreground a jet-black shadow-cat sleeps soundly on a brick wall. Behind the wall we see two community officers making their way through a drizzling graveyard. A wendigo with bandaged legs holds the torch for the beholder floating behind. The wendigo stares to their side up at the fireworks, as does one of the beholder's subsidiary eyes. Beholder: Oi! Eyes-on! What're you staring at? Wendigo: Uhh, the New Years lights. Beholder: You mean firew- Wendigo: Shhhh man! You know I'm scared of them. Beholder: If you're scared then why are you staring? Wendigo: It's something my therapist said. 'Bout facing your fears… Beholder: Okay, first off, that's not what that means. Second, she's not a therapist, she's a bartender. Wendigo: Well yeah, but I tip her *real* good... HNNG! The wendigo trips over something on the floor, thunking over forwards, to the surprise of them both. Sitting on the soggy sod beside a mound of dirt the Wendigo and resettling their cap, the Beholder looks at them judgementally. Beholder: Ugh, ow did you trip over? Wendigo: Yeah, yeah, I get it. Should've looked where I was walkin', huh? Beholder: No, I mean *how*? You don't have feet. Float higher, you doofus. The two, now both upright, stare down at the object that the Wendigo tripped over. It lies in a mound of dirt before a smashed headstone, as they shine their torch upon it. Beholder: Right, what've we got here? Wendigo: Looks like a person… Beholder: Rhetorical, Diego. Whadd'ya think? Socials or drunk tank? Wendigo: Uh... socials? Beholder: Tenner? Wendigo: You're on. The wendigo outstretches their arm, truncheon in hand, and gently prods the pile of cloth in the dirt. All at once the body wrenches up into life with on desperate gasp! Recoiling the Wendigo drops their truncheon as the two officers scream in retaliation! The body (that of a young January) leans back down and stares into the distance, aghast. January: Am... Am I alive!? The Wendigo, still shocked and recoiling, turns back to them. Wendigo: G-gee, I sure hope so man...The Beholder, momentarily perturbed but now unphased, floats off. Beholder: Yeah, I'm ringing in the drunk tank…
August 20, 2025 at 3:21 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
I got a chance earlier in the year to play in a very silly short Humblewood campaign which allowed me to reinterpret my old amphibious goon Sal and/or Todd. I'm fairly certain I hastily painted this in a couple of hours on-stream, but I'm still pretty proud of it.
A rough digital painting of a small anthropomorphic axolotl whose name may be Todd and/or Sal. His head-gills are tied back into a ponytail as they stand upon a murky green background. He is wrapped in a fur-lined cape whose silken ties are bowed across gold-trimmed collar of a white shirt worn beneath purple pinstriped waistcoat. He casts a blank, wide-eyed stare back over his shoulder whilst tentatively holding a knife out in front of him.
August 18, 2025 at 8:35 AM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Feeling a strong desire to float away from it all right now. So here's a self-indulgent repost of a Carter Goodrich-esque drawing of m'scarecrow Jethro suddenly becoming the target of my envy.
Jethro, a scarecrow in a wide-brimmed straw hat and tattered red marching band-style overcoat, reclines in a deckchair suspended high in the sky by a smattering of balloons tied to the corners. They're holding a glass of champagne with a twig for flavour. This is illustrated in warm red and orange hues mimicking the coloured-pencil style of Carter Goodrich.
August 15, 2025 at 6:11 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Inexplicably it seems that I'd never posted Akten's roughly-hewn portrait wot I made last year. This would probably have been helpful for context for the above post. Either way, he's here now and ready to chomp some pastry!
A green-backed digital painting of a concerned-looking satyr Akten. From out of a billowing barnet of uncontrollable orange hair poke the ends of two floppy brown ears, two pale horns and one concerned face peering worriedly to the side through bright yellow, goat-like eyes. From the central tangle of hair dangle mismatched braids down beside his crumb-laden beard enveloping a chewing mouth. Below, from many layers of yellow cowls and robes, protrude arms holding some fruit pie, sans a bit or three.
August 13, 2025 at 4:44 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Today's miscellany is a variety of doodles of m'little satyr healer and chef-to-be Aktenistos, prised from my first not-a-newsletter newsletter. I'll come up with a better shorthand, I promise. Anywho, here there be Akten causing havoc with friends, foes, eggs and a buff sister. His, specifically.
In a loosely-coloured digital ink-and-watercolour doodle, Akten slides from right to left across the ground, chin carving into the ground beneath his surprised face. A small plum of dust sprays up in his wake. Behind him, scribbled in Ancient Greek lettering is his full name Aktenistos. A collection of brown-tinted doodles of Akten. In the top left Akten looks up curiously from a clipboard, wearing an early 20th century curse outfit. Above his tail we see a small chibi-styled Akten wearing a goat onesie, holding his cloth-hoofed hands together, bearing a blank expression. To his right is a panicking Akten trotting forward, precariously carrying several hundred varying-sized eggs in the raised skirt of his outer robe. In the centre a small cartoony Akten stands facing away, turning back to look at the viewer as we see his tail waggle out from under his robes. In the bottom left Akten has pulled up the hood on his robe, stretching over his horns and pushing his unkempt barnet to almost completely cover his face. The text [Engage Incognito Mode] accompanies this flawless disguise. Finally to the bottom right we see a concerned Akten chomping into a loaf of bread as the cyclops Mogs (belonging to ChibiNetherlands) gestures towards him in the role of a glamorous game show assistant. The game is The Monty Hall problem and Akten's the goat. A brown-tinted digital doodle of Akten being carried by his sister Authades, another Satyr of a more considerable stature. Without breaking a sweat she carries him with one arm holding him over her right shoulder as she stoically walks forwards, left hand bandaged but free. Akten, facing backwards, turns to look at his captor with wide-eyed concern as he wiggles his hooves ineffectually. A brown-tinted digital doodle of a group of adventurers posing in a dark void. At the top left we see the smiling head and bright eyes of the dragon Aria, whose wings and tail envelop the group. Her siren handler Palaemon (both belonging to ChibiNetherlands) stoically stroked her raised neck whilst grasping a spear in his left hand. To their right the smiling minotaur visage of Azrael (belonging to ADeliciousStrawberryMan) lurches over the group, unfittingly aggressive in his positivity. To his right a small black snake hisses, protruding from the head of the medusa Sirius (belonging to Jigsaw-yer), as she looks up uncertainly at the looming minotaur. Between Palaemon's loose-fitting toga and Sirius' patterned tunic stands the short-statured Akten, looking up in concern.
August 10, 2025 at 5:42 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
Another little not-a-newsletter newsletter comic, this time with October & January engaging in their favourite shared activity 'Definitely possessing the required attention span to follow a recipe'.
Frankensteinian constructs January and October stand in what can loosely be described as a kitchen. October enthuses holding out an open recipe book behind January, who calmly smiles back to them whilst packing away food shopping. October: January! I've j-just found this amazing pumpkin p-pie recipe! Jan: Yo October. Funny that, I've got a tiramisu recipe with your name on it .October: Ooh, let's sh-share notes! In a flurry of kitchen activity the two newly-aproned siblings get cracking on their respective recipes, flinging around instructions as they pour, whisk, knead, mash, shake and stir. "Two packs of centicore cheese..." "Three cockatrice eggs..." "13 Witchfinger biscuits..." "Two cups of Entwheat flour..." "Quarter cup of void cocoa..." "Mash half of a Flaky-Jack pumpkin..." "Whisk..." "Knead..." "Sugar..." "Beat..." "Milk..." "Butter…" At last the two of them hold out their completed dishes, and whilst January seems cheerful they console a concerned October. October: Wh- how d-did we make the same thing? Jan: Guess we're just too in-sync, eh? October: Hmm... What i-is it? Jan: Not a clue...
August 6, 2025 at 9:43 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
The last of last years' random style challenges that I forgot to post features my very own construct siblings August and September in the style of the classic Megaman Legends games. Games I've definitely played and thus fully understand the context of for planning out this scene.
In the chunky polygonal style of Mega Man Legends we see two frankensteinian constructs August and September peeking around the corner of a metallic hallway. August, in front, looms around the corner protectively, unsure of what they're going to see. September, leaning out from behind August, wears an expression of delighted surprise.
August 2, 2025 at 4:51 PM
crispyparsnips.bsky.social
So I recently started a little monthly not-a-newsletter newsletter and thought it deserved some silly little comic strips to adorn it. Anyway, that's your problem now.
Stocky blonde-haired Kay stands in his loosely defined bedroom beside bags of newly purchased clothes. He peers inquisitively at his reflection and muses on the skirt he's trying on, which reaches from his waist down to the floor. He queries his boyfriend Jay, who is lounging on the bed beside him playing a gameboy. Kay: What do you think? Jay: Wow, that skirt's pretty long, huh? In a series of doodles Kay tries readjusting the skirt's waistband, striking different poses as he hitches it higher and higher. Taking it a little too far, he settles on a new position as it reaches from his armpits down to just above his knees. He turns to Jay for approval. Kay: What do you think? Jay: Wow, that dress is pretty short, huh?
July 30, 2025 at 1:41 PM