GOVERNDICK'S
Hii everyone, I'm Humansleep. This time I want to post my work again in the Alien Art Hive community. And here I will also share a work process whether it's drawing or sketching that I will later do as an effort to be seen and appreciated.
GOBLINS, ORC IN SUITS.
I — The Sticky Throne
At the top of it all, a giant orc sits casually atop a mountain of money.
Paper money, coins, gold, hardened campaign promises—all become soft pillows.
He doesn't work.
He stays put.
His body is sticky with the crust of power, his mouth full of laughter that sounds like a long burp. On his lap, the ritual of adultery is performed without shame—not because it feels good, but because he can. Because the law on this planet only applies to those below.
The orc hugged his stomach, squeezed the breasts of the orc entertainer, and said,
“Calm down, everything can be arranged and we have thought of you.”
Then he laughed.
Because thinking here never meant acting.
The money beneath him screamed softly.
Not asking to be saved—
but asking to be recognized as a victim too.
II — Meanwhile, Below (Nowhere)
Far from the throne, in a layer of the planet that isn't even on the map, strange creatures gather.
No two are alike.
Some have three legs, some are transparent, some have heads made from old houses.
They aren't waiting for help.
They already know it's a myth.
One holds back the rubble,
another divides the remaining energy,
yet another just sits and keeps them company—because sometimes survival requires witnesses.
They have no jargon.
No slogans.
No billboards.
But somehow...
they are still alive.
In the sky, the echo of an orc’s voice is heard:
“We care.”
The creatures look at each other, then continue their work.
Because on this planet, care always comes without hands.
III — Ritual, Promise to poop.
In the most honest corner of this world, a creature stands with a relieved expression.
Not angry.
Not sad.
But finished.
Below it, the creatures of the sewers—greedy fat orcs, rats in suits, officials with fangs—gape, waiting for the next speech.
What comes down are not words.
Not promises.
Not five-year plans.
What came down was the end result of all the sweet promises that had gone undigested.
There was a moment of silence.
Then the creature said lightly,
"This is not an insult.
This is feedback."
The inhabitants of the sewers choked.
Not because of the smell—
but because finally something had come from above to below, as it should.
This work was created with ink on paper, using a pencil.
Sketch:
Outline:
Epilogue — acuerdo para volver a cometer adulterio.
The next day, the orc on the throne issued a statement that could no longer be trusted:
“We will evaluate this incident.”
But in reality, nothing changed.
The money remained warm.
The throne remained sticky.
Only one thing is certain:
On this planet,
the greedy are always called leaders,
those who resist and fight back are called rebels,
and those who are fed up eventually learn
that the most honest expressions
do not always come from the mouth.
This is all I can say for right now, sorry if there are wrong words or my typing is not perfect.
Thank you for taking the time just to stop by and see my work, and see you in my next work. 🖐👽
