kiruvry

[kiruvry]

rly nervous posting this here for some reason brah

prices in GBP, paypal and kofi are my only manner of transaction . half of payment upfront and then the rest upon completion

haven't done comms in ages but im at a point where my art is something that i can be proud of :] please contact through dms if interested. I'm limiting myself to just a few at a time per month so that i don't get too overwhelmed!!

i will refund anybody in full if i feel that i can't complete the piece they pay for

[kiruvry]

Foams at the mouth

[kiruvry]

art fight 2025 portraits!!

ocs belong to @kiruvry @astarfruity @selovant @princessjerboa @kriminaldata

[kiruvry]

Fear and Hunger - Main Characters' Enemy Battle Sprites (Regular and New God)

[kiruvry]

i love this disgusting horrible nasty ghoul of a priest so much I've actually cried over him today am I cooked chat. Only posting thjs so I can yap in the tags like a coward

[kiruvry]

Artfight revenge for @kiruvry ❤️

I love grey wardens too much! I always get inspired by them lmao.

My artfight is here!

[kiruvry]

@kiruvry whoa luijt is here. writing of your strange little dude

conversation between two funger ocs.

It was just the two of them in the bar; both with drinks, both struggling to down them. One sip from one glass, two sips from the other. Whiskey, wine; two different distinct flavors, two different colors. Swirled around glasses that were already murky and cracked at the top. 

“How do you manage?” one voice finally spoke; timid, soft. Too gentle, too frail. The speaker appeared as if she’d fall apart at any moment. Perhaps it was this game getting to her. “Everyone has written sins and confessions on your skin, and you just… keep walking like it’s not a burden to have.”

The other voice turned to stare with pained lines around the eyes. The timid voice, “Mavis”, did not meet the gaze; their eyes were drilled to the wooden counter, their fingers tracing lines until they were pricked by splinters. “That’s how life is, innit? Hold up others n’ help ‘em get by… Human duty, y’know?”

“It is plastered all over your skin.” Mavis winced as she spoke, bringing a finger to her mouth to bite out the wood of a splinter as she prayed to any god that would listen that it would not catch in her teeth or gums. “How can you not feel… How can you be so neutral about it?”

“‘s what it is. Life’s gon’ be like that– ‘s a bitch, then you die. So I got no choice but to keep living until then.” Luijt, that was his name. His hands ran over his skin as he spoke, tracing swirling lines of text that patterned his skin; his arms, his pecs, his neck. 

The therapist with the timid voice finally turned towards him, but only after his gaze fell to his drink. “Well,” she tried with a trembling voice. “As… As you so graciously put it… Life is a bitch. But sometimes you also keep living, be it out of spite or a hope for a better tomorrow. So… it’s okay to feel upset; be it angry or sad. It’s okay to feel… troubled. It’s okay to have feelings.”

She watched as he flinched; it was funny, he could probably snap her in half like a moldy and gross plank of wood, but he had an almost alarmed expression for a bit. After a bit, however, he seemed to steel his nerves in order to take another sip of whiskey, letting it burn his tongue before he swallowed. Then his eyes met hers, searching for an answer that he seemed to know she wouldn’t speak. “If that’s the case,” he mused, his non-existent eyebrows knitting, “then why don’t’cha talk ‘bout yours?”

Mavis’ shoulders slouched and it was her turn to cower away. Words hurt, even if they were not meant to; Even if they were gentle, caring, or every kind thing in-between, they stung like a bee and jabbed like a needle. “I’m dandy.” She lied, but she never was all that good of a liar. “So don’t worry about me.”

There was that part of her, deep inside; that part that clawed away at her heart and her throat, trying to scream “Worry about me! Care about me! Please tell me I matter– that my feelings matter,” but she shoved it down, down, down– nobody would ever know, nor would they ever hear. 

“Anyways,” she tried as she cleared her throat, staring right back into that pool of red that she’d struggled to sip. “Um… why don’t you tell me about the O’saa guy…? I really don’t see the appeal.”

[kiruvry]

selection screen template by @distortedplatinum :]

probably gonna try redoing this at some point but wtv im cool with it for the time being :p

[kiruvry]

I Could Be A Good Mother

Alternative AO3 Link

"Something something D’arce being a good mother to the girl." - The Original Concept.

Based On/Inspired by my current/first playthrough of Fear and Hunger. May be OOC since I am still figuring out the characters.

Writing below the cut.

She was found in a cage. Nameless, shivering from both fear and cold, and staring at D’arce with the most terror-filled gaze she had ever seen. The girl never told her if she had a name, and D’arce never could figure out one to give her. “The Girl” or “Girl” had simply stuck.

She had short hair and blue eyes that were filled with pain and fear. She seemed to flinch from the gentlest touch, just as she would hesitate to eat any food given to her. Even when D’arce made sure she slept comfortably, even when she made sure the Girl didn’t have any nightmares, there still seemed to be a permanent terror molded onto her expression. 

And yet the Girl was so much stronger than she was. Perhaps she was just used to the horrors, perhaps it was something else. But, while D’arce crumpled at seeing any of the disturbing sights, the Girl held her hand and stared forward with an expression that the knight couldn’t read. Perhaps someone wiser would manage to, but not her.

“Mama?” Came the smallest voice, the smallest croak, as the child fell to her knees. D’arce rushed to her side, with the outlander not far behind. “...Pa… Pa?”

The first moment they were able to sleep, she made sure the Girl got the bed. And she covered her with the shabby blanket, as well as any spare cloth they had. And, while the Girl slept, D’arce would stay up for a long, long, while; just until she was sure that the Girl wouldn’t be having any nightmares. Only then would she let herself doze off.

When she’d found a dagger, one with a handle too small to fit her hands, she handed it to the Girl and carefully instructed her on how to hold it and use it. “You can use it to protect yourself from anything that scares you.” She had said. And the Girl looked at her with such wide and shocked eyes, as if she couldn’t believe that D’arce was giving her something.

It happened again when D’arce gave her a small doll. But, that time, small tears welled up in her eyes and she clung to the knight's waist in a tight hug. All she did was lean down to hold her back.

The girl looked more terrified than D’arce had ever seen before. As she began to cry out in sudden pain, her small hand grabbed D’arce’s and she begged, pleaded even, for her to make the pain stop. But D’arce couldn’t, so all she could do was shush her softly and tell her it’d be okay whilst trying to give her back the doll she’d dropped.

Eventually, the Girl had started to talk. It was mostly one word responses, but it was still something. “Are you okay?” D’arce would ask as she crouched to meet the Girl’s height. And the Girl would clutch her doll close before giving a nod and a small squeak; “Yes.”

When she became tired, and there was no bed in sight, D’arce would lift her up to carry her around. It felt strange, but it seemed that finding Le’garde had become a secondary task to her– with the primary one being that she kept the Girl safe. Even stranger, perhaps funnier, in a way, was the fact that D’arce had begun trying to remember old bedtime stories, as well as make up new ones. 

As they delved deeper and deeper into the dungeon, with D’arce doing her best to kill any threats while shielding the Girl from harm, the Girl had begun to hold her hand more often. Sometimes, she’d move from any bed to curl up at D’arce’s side. And whenever D’arce seemed sad, she’d hold out the ragged doll she was given to try and cheer her up. Even if it didn’t help as much as the Girl seemed to hope, it was the thought that counted and it made D’arce brighten up even so.

Her limbs began to shift and twist while her eyes spilled tears of unbearable pain. D’arce could only watch and pray to Alll-mer, Sylvian, Gro-gorth– to any god that would listen for her baby’s life to be spared, and for her pain to stop. All the while, her daughter kept croaking out “Mama” and “Hurts.”

The first to officially join their party was a cave wolf. Seeing the wolf, dubbed “Moonless,” the Girl’s gaze gained a spark of excitement and joy that D’arce had never seen before. It suddenly became Moonless’ task to carry her around and to keep her warm at night. D’arce had never understood the term “man’s best friend” until the cave wolf had proved herself to be the most caring companion in the world.

When the cave mother swept in for an attack, Moonless jumped in front of the girl and snarled with her tail lashing. And, while D’arce removed one wing, the wolf jumped and gnawed away the other. Only once the previously winged beast fled did she relax. And, when she did, her first act was to check the Girl for injuries. As did D’arce.

Once the knight was sure the Girl was uninjured, she checked upon her newly-adopted dog, who only yipped and wagged her tail when D’arce asked her if she was okay. Their little group, a makeshift family, turned into three. 

But they did not progress further into the cold and damp cave– not yet, at least. D’arce fished an explosive vial out of a crate. There had been some rumble earlier in the dungeons, she had recalled, and she had intended to explore that blocked-off part. Perhaps it would lead her closer to Le’garde, perhaps it would help her find more proper food for the Girl– D’arce would be fine with eating moldy bread or rotten meat, as long as the Girl was allowed proper nutrition.

Her voice had started to fail her, as the twisted transformation progressed further. She weakly pushed D’arce away, but it seemed that she had meant to pull her closer. “Shh, shhh..!” The knight had tried, her voice weak and her eyes full of tears. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay…!”

Why had the new god asked for this? Why had the new god bestowed this fate on the child she had birthed? D’arce would never understand how a mother could want this fate for their own child.

A new member joined their group; the outlander that had stared at her and her armor with distrust earlier. Now, the only thing he had in his gaze was wariness, and, under the lighting of her torch, a hint of desperation. His name was Ragnvaldr, though his last name remained a mystery to her. But she could not blame him; not with that Oldegardian accent he bore.

Not with the knowledge that she and her fellow knights had slaughtered dozens of his people.

Still, by the firelight that she made whenever they set up camp, he told stories. Despite his scarred and sometimes scary appearance, he seemed kind. He helped lull the Girl to sleep, if she had a nightmare. Myths from Oldegard, or stories from his childhood– sometimes he’d make up the most baffling stories on the spot to get a laugh out of her. It helped D’arce laugh, too. 

He made sure that, when the Girl was hungry, she got fed. Then, he fed Moonless. Sometimes, if Moonless didn’t seem as hungry as D’arce was, he’d offer her a piece of dried meat. But she’d always refuse, insisting that the proper food should go to the Girl, and Moonless was just as important– so she should receive the meat. Even as the outlander’s eyebrow quirked, she held her ground. 

“Not enough food for all four of us to eat properly,” she had said as she held a now-sleeping Girl, “I’d much rather I get the last serving, so she and Moonless and yourself can be fed.”

He had responded with a grunt and said he didn’t need any of this food, and wouldn’t need it for a long while. She hadn’t understood what he meant, but she didn’t ask him to clarify. Even if she did, she was sure he’d just brush it off. 

Ragnvaldr wrapped his arm around D’arce to pull her away from her daughter, her baby, as the Girl’s flesh tore as she grew. His expression was tight with grief, too, but his lips remained tight as he kept his mouth shut. But he stared up at the Girl as she grew, and she recognized that same look of pain in his eyes that he got whenever he talked about his son. 

“She is your child?” He had asked quietly, not meeting her eyes. D’arce had many guesses as to why. “Why bring her here?”

“I found her in a cage.” She had answered as she moved to wrap the Girl with spare cloth and blankets. “I tried to leave with her right after I found her… But the mist surrounding this place denied me the right.”

Ragnvaldr had only responded with a deep exhale as he scratched the top of the dog’s head while Moonless reacted by kicking her hind leg in circles. In the back of her mind, there was that question; why was he there? But she never found the will to ask, and she was sure he would not answer. 

So she turned her back to him, curling up around the Girl, and forced her muscles to relax. As long as she was okay, then D’arce knew that everything would turn out well. She could hear Moonless beginning to snore well before she finally found enough sheep to count, and she could hear the heavy breathing of the brute louder. “You would be a good mother.” He had said as sleep finally overcame her.

She no longer resembled the child that she once was, but she still called out for the knight who had acted as her mother, and she still called out for the outlander who had acted as her father. She cried tears that hurt to hear, but they refused to flow from her eyes. Even so, she wept, begging them to make this new pain stop.

Before D’arce, where her daughter once stood, was a someone painstakingly turning into a god. All she could do was weep her own tears and tell her daughter that it was going to be okay, even though she knew it wasn’t.

“Scared.” The girl had mumbled as D’arce examined the cube of the depths. Ragnvaldr stared at the knight with dark eyes for only a heartbeat, and then he lifted the girl up to tell her that it was going to be okay, because he was there, and so was she– and they’d both protect her from whatever evil the cube might contain.

“I’m scared.” Her voice, now frail, choked out. Ragnvaldr’s lower lip quivered, and D’arce broke into tears. 

[kiruvry]

silly ass thing💔💔

[kiruvry]

Templates for funger OCs selection screen!

Feel free to use without credits, but I would like to see the results!

[kiruvry]

guy who does not make comics makes a comic . 45 dead 147 injured

possible ishimori/the vagabond recruitment idea ,,,,, i really like the thought of them being found relatively earlygame n given their history with the bunnymasks it'd be kinda cool to find them in the backyard area of the dungeon even if that's where you find ragnvaldr too idk . Just thinking on stuff. They'd be an easy recruitment n all you would just need to give them an item to restore their mind so they don't lose it completely (as the implication is they dragged themselves from the meadow after a bout of trying to destroy themselves via involving themselves in sylvian's rituals again n all that) in a way if you're to recruit them you're saving their life so they don't become a mindless bunnymask 😁👍

[kiruvry]

my tuoys...............😢 sorry 2 my friends who haven't heard the end of me talking abt these idiots ihate them (lie)

[kiruvry]

Enki doodles

I've been drawing him for days nonstop send help 💔💔

[kiruvry]

found this weird fucking bug in the dungeons of fear and hunger

[kiruvry]

stupid enkimori doodle b4 I conk out + embarrassing ass ramble below bc i Need 2 get it out or I'll die. Literally doing a walk of shame rn🥀🥀

i fjeel so cringe HGGH ENKIMORI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ijsut think. It's. Cool. That ljke. Uhm. Uhm. They both go through horrific godawful things so young (enki's ritualistic murder of his twin sister or him losing the battle for his life as a child and literally living off of insects in a well and ishimori being a literal child bride w obedience beaten into them, both having the notion of life inherently being unfair smashed into their skulls rly young) and then that eventually culminates in them enacting bloody, violent revenge n a spiral into them both sort of seeking a way to fill the void in them n I'm so fucking. Auggjgjhgh something something enki crucifixion and ishimori's repeated attempts at self destruction to the point of spending time among the bunnymasks to annihilate their sense of self and uhm uhm uhmggfhhghjgghggjgh GOD!!!!! AAAGAGHHHGH!.!!!!!!!!! empty husk of a person to empty husk of a person communication I'm gonna slam my head in the fridge door. Then the fact that both of them curdle into embittered and at times cruel and vindictive people bc of the hand that was dealt to them n them both essentially learning too early that they can only rely on themselves and ohhhghhghghf. I also think ishimori wld enjoy enki a lot despite themselves because he doesn't lie to them. He's going to be violently and brutally honest and they admire that so much bc they've only ever known honeyed words n stupid saccharine smiles and enki isn't any of it but he's still a puzzle (and a mirror to them too in a way) to them and ijm so . AuaghGHAAAAAAAAUUUUGH!!!!!!!! IM SICK!!!!! their taste in men is SOOO SHIT

they begin circling eachother like feral animals in the woods and there's nothing but contempt but there's the fact that they both feel So familiar to one eachother, that they're broken in similar shapes. ishimori delights in his anger but they grow to care for him and she HAAAATES that so much because the thought of vulnerability is enough to make them sick whereas enki is met with somebody who can actually keep up with him and doesn't flinch away from his cruelty or nasty words and idk they pull eachother back from losing their minds more than once because they care in that nasty, fucked up 'you are still of more use to me alive sellsword, get up' / 'you are the most intriguing creature I have had the displeasure of knowing and it would be a pity to see you cease to be here of all places' (practically a love confession) way of theirs bc they don't know what love really is n God. GODDDDD

bc what Is love to two people who haven't ever known it truly . Especially when enki has dismissed anything to do with the heart as a petty distraction and a weakness and a rot to be burnt out while ishimori jumps from lover to lover over the years trying to fill the pit in his chest but has never in their life let themselves feel anything warm like that to the point that they wouldn't know gentleness if it smacked them upside the head

also there's smth 2 be said for enki having links to gro-goroth (and the other gods dark priests are multitheistic if I remember right but still) and ishimori having links to sylvian makes me crazy. literally the two sides of oblivion through destruction and blood and death vs creation and lust and pleasure. There's a coin flip joke here. worshippers of both gods can completely lose themselves to their indulgences ajd I think that's so sick. HHHHAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!

[kiruvry]

"mika put down the pencil" NO!! you cant make me i feel like being EVIL!! and rei mekaru needs a break. i think my friend will kill me if i write more rei mekaru angst.

----

Enki was the Gro-goroth to Ishimori's Sylvian. The destruction of his creation, his love, his lust. Enki was the one thing that could truly give Ishimori what they were searching for, as they'd cower away from anything, anyone, else.

The new god, with its head hidden, seemed to stare down at them as they bled out bit by bit. It spoke not, but a pained chill still wracked her body as if it had. And yet Ishimori did not sob, nor scream, nor shout. They had been searching for their death for a long, long, time.

Where they had only failed in destruction, Enki had not. And now Ishimori wasn't sure if this new god was still "Enki" at all. But he did not complain, as his death was finally, finally, coming.

With a slow movement, ignorant of the fact that he was slowly turning into a cadaver, he reached an arm out-- as if inviting the new entity to join them in death.

And then they smiled, for the first time in forever, and the final time in all eternity.

MIKA. YOU CANT DO THJS TO ME. MIKA. FUCKK, FUCJ DUCK DUCKJFHFFUH<%</>_>^[ YOURE ENCOURAGING MY BRAINROT !!!!!!!!!!! YOURE ENCOURAGING ME I SHOULD NOT BE ENCOURAGED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!