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dragon got a fender

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The haunting ancient Celtic carnyx being played for an audience. This is the sound Roman soldiers would have heard their Celtic enemies make.

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Recurring thought that snaps me awake at night.

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Dysphoria (2025)

This is a repaint of an illustration I first posted right here on this account over a decade ago when I first transitioned. I did this for TDOV this year as a sort of 'then vs now' for myself more than anything. A lot has changed in a decade. I've changed.

A decade ago visibility felt like liberation, but today it feels like a target. A decade ago politicians made a lot of promises to us, and today they can't run away from us fast enough. A decade ago I was crashing out in a dysphoria spiral. Today, in spite of everything, I'm at peace with myself.

It's Pride Month in the States and the Trans community is going through it. Between the Skrmetti decision and the threat of HR1 stripping care from Trans people of ALL ages on Medicaid and ACA plans, Trans people need support more than ever. So I'm making this illustration available as a print in my shop (link in bio) and 100% of the proceeds will be donated to Point of Pride, an organization dedicated to providing financial aid for transition care. I'll post receipts of funds donated at the end of the month. I'm aiming to raise at least $2000, as that's the amount needed to cover 12 months of telehealth services, prescription medications, lab work, and more for at least one trans person in need of HRT. Transition care really IS life saving, it saved MY life. I wouldn't have lived to make any of the art that people have told me they love so much. My whole portfolio, all my work over the years, none of it would exist. If my art has ever meant anything to you, please, help.

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Some new stickersheets I'll be hawking at Emerald City Comic Con this March! Edit: Since folks have asked, if I have any left after ECCC I'll put 'em on my online store.

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My stupid cat went missing for 5 days. Looked everywhere for her. We were absolutely convinced she was eaten by a coyote.

She just showed back up on the porch this morning, barely worse for wear. Grounded forever.

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We're getting new floors, yippee!

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PREVIOUS NEXT FIRST

A Formal Invitation

“So, are you planning on leaving immediately?” Dravad said, leaning over a small hill as if it was the back of a chair. He resembled a big cat basking in the sun. His tail trailed behind him, waving with mellow interest.

“I’d hate to overstay my welcome.” Idun said. He nodded.

“You’re the first human I have ever invited to my home. Would you mind staying for tea?”

He looked upon her with large, hopeful eyes. Idun’s legs felt weak as she took him in. From the dozens of scars scatted around on his body, to wiry musculature under taut skin, to the way she could feel his heartbeats resonate with seconds between them.

“Any particular reason why?”

“I’d prefer it if the person with access to my home did not remain a stranger for long,”

Idun looked around, hands folded.

It was not by any means a sinister request, in fact, what he asked for seemed rather reasonable. Still she refused to look away from his clawed hands.

“Tea, what do you mean by that?” She asked. His eyes lit up.

“Nettle, rosehip, chamomile. Beyond that, herbs few have heard of, and fewer still tasted. Not to mention the camellia and all it’s derivatives,”

He revelled in recounting them all, as if they were fine cloths or rare keepsakes. Idun nodded along.

“I see, so you just want to drink tea with me. And there is no euphemism?”

“I don’t know what an euphemism is. Nor is it something I can conjure on short notice,” he said, “the tea is good to drink on its own. We’d of course chat a little as well,”

“I suppose it could be nice,” she said.

He offered up his palm.

“Come with me then. There’s a part of the garden where I’m rarely disturbed, it has everything we need,”

Idun hesitated.

“Oh, is this a private matter?” She asked.

“I’d rather not be shot at while tending to visitors,”

She touched the tip of his finger, tracing her hand down its leathery surface.

“I see, do you want me to climb in?”

He nodded. She braced herself, before taking an assertive step onto his palm. She laid low, stomach against his warm skin as he slowly lifted. He led her through the garden, until they arrived at a tall hedge growing near the mountain wall. He snuck past it, revealing a small oasis. It fit him comfortably, without too much room to spare. Large rocks and logs provided places to sit, and a sort of table. He sat her down by a large kiln, Big as a town hall. He removed a stout, blackened kettle from a hook. It clang, reverberating deep into her bones.

“We will drink from the same source, I cannot brew to your proportions,” he said. “Which sort would you prefer?”

He unfurled a tarp that hung from the stone wall, revealing a dozen suspended canisters.

“I’m no expert, which one do you recommend?”

As if on cue he reached towards the upper canister. As he were to grab it, he hesitated.

“What do humans eat?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you like curs and horses? Could ordinary food bane you?”

“Oh. I see. What have you put in this tea?”

“Pepper, cinnamon, chamomile, rose and hibiscus. It’s best served with a body from volcanic stone,”

“Body?”

“The pebbles,”

Idun stared at him. He stared back, “the pebbles,” he repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m not sure what that is,” she admitted.

“A small, rounded rock, not a boulder, not a grain of sand,”

“Why should that be in my tea? Humans aren’t fond of eating stone,”

“How do you keep your gizzard in good health, then?”

“I don’t… think I have one…” she stumbled. Dravad gave her a sceptical, if not contemplative look.

“There’s a lot to learn about you. You’re quite an intriguing critter, it seems…”

“I suppose I am. For the record, I can drink everything in the tea, except for the stone.”

“It won’t be the same, but it will do,” he said, leaning over the kiln, “move, or be incinerated,”

Idun jumped, rushing as far away from the oven as possible.

“Am I safe here?” She asked. Dravad nodded. He kindled the fire. He sourced water from the river and placed the tisane within. Soon a white smoke billowed, and the area filled with floral aromas.

“Many critters are highly sensitive,” he remarked, poking the embers to corral the flame, “I had one horse actually, where I wanted to share my brews with him. All seemed well at first, but within dawn he was lifeless,”

“I’m sorry to hear that,”

“Since then I’ve been attentive, only feeding them what I’ve witnessed them graze upon,”

“So you own horses? Are they as big as you?”

Dravad laughed, pulling the kettle out of the fire.

“No. A horse is a fragile thing, skittish by nature. Small enough to hold in your hand, although it’s advised that you don’t, given that mere fright seems to injure them,”

Idun tried to look for these horses, but struggled to see past the hedges surrounding his oasis. Dravad placed a wooden bucket in front of her, and elegantly managed to tip the pot just enough to fill it without spilling. His fingers daintily held onto its body, elongated by his sharp claws. His own cup was larger than any barrel she had ever seen. Steam danced on the surface. Her bucket contained a brilliantly red liquid. It had a peppery berry scent. Dravad grabbed his drink. She ducked as a tub of boiling water flew over her head. He drank, unbothered by the heat. She watched in silence as he downed gallons with each gulp. She placed her lips to the surface of her tea, taking a tiny sip. Its flavour was intense. Each mouthful brought forth new nuances and notes. She stared at her reflection in the cup.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

“Very much so, I’m impressed,” she said.

The jotun smiled. He rested his face in his palm, looking at her with calm eyes. She shuffled around, feeling his gaze linger. Although he seemed at rest, that pupil really did follow her like an omen. His one eye faced her, the rest of his head tilted far to the side.

“Does your neck hurt a lot?” She blurted out. It broke his trance.

“How would you know?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Whenever you stare at me, you seem to move your head to compensate,” she said. He blinked, flustered.

“I don’t look upon you with ill intent,” he said, leaning forwards. He brought a claw to her jaw, casual as ever. Idun held her chin high, staring right into his eyes, “please don’t mind, I’ve just never seen a human this up close, and you’re a calm one, even,”

The cold, smooth surface of his claw tickled her. He traced it along the underside of her arm, culminating in her hand upon his fingertip. A heat rose in her belly as the massive being touched her with utmost precision.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Assessing you. Is that bothersome?” With that he withdrew his hand. Idun stepped aside, clutching around her trunk.

“I can’t help but wonder what you find so fascinating about me…” she dryly remarked.

“You seem to have an incredibly keen sense of balance, standing with such rigid posture and no tail to aid. Do your blunted ears help with hearing? How come your pupils are perfectly round? What do you see? Are you born without claws or do you remove them for ceremonial reasons?” He raved, gesturing at her body.

Idun sat there dumbstruck. He waved his tail in anticipation.

“I’m not sure about any of that,” she said, “is that really… all you were looking at?”

“I’ll report back to you if I notice something else peculiar,”

She hesitated.

“Is this considered polite to you? Would you appreciate it if I decided to study your form to comment on everything I found confusing?”

“Maybe. I’d see it as unnecessary. Everybody knows what a Jotun looks like,”

“Right. Show me the back of your wrist,” Idun demanded. He gave her a puzzled look before turning it towards him. She shook her head, “closer,”

He put his arm down on the table, Idun walked up to it. She admired the sheen of his plates and the soft down on his fingers. The heavy chains of gold that appeared dainty over his thick wrist, the polished stone that resembled strings of pearl.

“What’s up with these spurs? Why are they there?” She asked, grabbing at the jagged spikes down his arm.

“Not sure, but I quite like them,” he said, running his other hand across his wrist. He pulled his hair behind his ear and sat upright.

“Does this bother you,” she said, rustling a loose bracelet around atop his hand.

“Not really,”

“You seem more calm than I had expected,” Idun said, “now, what do you need sharp fangs for?”

“Hard to eat without them,” he lowered his head onto the table, pulling his lips back. Idun came face to face with a wall of teeth. His skin was flexible enough to reveal even behind his molars. Everything seemed perfectly engineered to either crush or tear matter apart. She shuddered, then she brought a trembling hand forth, lightly poking a fang the length of her forearm.

“Why did you do that?” She asked.

“You appear to enjoy touching things,” he said. His lips didn’t move, it almost sounded like a regular human spoke from within his head. She blushed, putting her hand in her pocket.

“I didn’t mean to poke around,” she said, “but you’re actually the first Jotun I have seen in the flesh,”

“Really? You must be doing something right, then,”

Idun laughed nervously.

“I do my best to keep the peace, I’m not one to go around asking for a fight,” she said.

“I can see why you don’t find kinship with humans,” he remarked.

“Not all people are bad,”

He sounded a low, rumbling groan as he scratched the scar upon his face.

“I’m sure there are a few exceptions,”

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Barry B. Benson

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Oedipus's turn.

companion piece to the Sphinx

Commissions for Iben Krutt

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Forbidden desires of the flesh.

[Image I.D: A digital illustration of a T. Rex and Triceratops who are anthropomorphic. They are both tan to brown-red hues, with the Rex, who is lean and muscular on his knees putting his hands on the Triceratops's chest and neck. The triceratops, who is muscular and fat stands over him with his hands on the Rex's shoulders, looking down at him and making eye contact. They stand against a green sky background with brown canyon shelves around them, and a pale green sun like a halo behind the triceratops's head. There are 5 stars on their bodies that are connected like constellations. End I.D.]

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