#IT'S THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE MY FURRY GO!¡¡¡¡

[maxpawb]

he is going to fall off the fence

[wolfertinger666]

in some ways I feel bad that if my furry characters were to be drawn human I don't think any of them would be white they would most likely be black or any person of color.

and I go

"I need to make someone white 😭😭😭"

but as a black guy I'm kinda just making characters based off people I've seen irl especially as someone who grew up in predominantly black/mixed race populated schools.

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo - Ending 5: "One of Us"

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: This is similar to ending 2, but I like how it turned out

The moon was high in the sky by the time you were ready to enter the black panther and white tiger exhibit. You walked along the path to the enclosure, whistling cheerfully to yourself. As you pushed open the exhibit door, your whistle trailed off into silence.

All four halflings stood in front of you, looking grim. Even Malleus, who it usually took a small hike to visit, was present. Silver and Sebek avoided eye contact, but Lilia and Malleus stared at you in silence.

“Are you guys alright?” you asked, heart sinking at their expressions.

Lilia exchanged a look with Malleus before the smaller of the two stepped forward. He looked up at you with sad eyes and you were briefly reminded of a puppy wanting to have some of your food.

“Lilia, what’s going on?” you stepped forward, closing the enclosure door behind you.

Lilia shook his head, “It’s… bad news.”

You felt yourself trembling. You cared about the halflings so much, to see them so upset made you feel nearly heartbroken.

“The zoo,” Lilia said, so softly you had to lean in to hear him, “is planning to send us away.”

His words hit you like a train. You opened your mouth but no sound came out. “Send you away?” you finally managed to ask, “Why?”

“They think we’re too boring,” Lilia whispered, “We overheard the top humans talking. They say our exhibit is expensive to maintain when no one visits us. They plan to separate us and send us to different zoos across the world.”

“No! They can’t do that!” you gasped, “You’re like a family! They can’t just tear you apart!”

“They can,” Malleus finally spoke up, his furry ears pressed flat to his head, “And they will. Unless…”

“Unless what?” you asked, practically begging for an answer.

“You can help us,” Lilia said quickly, hope shining in his eyes.

You shook your head, “I don’t see how. I’m just a researcher. Mr. Crowley wouldn’t listen to me.”

“You’ve cared for us, made this place feel better than home. That has to mean something,” Silver spoke up.

Malleus stepped closer, casting a shadow over you. His emerald eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, “We don’t want to be sent away. We don’t want to lose you.”

Sebek nodded, “We’ll do whatever it takes to stay together, but we need you on our side.”

“I’ll… I’ll talk to Mr. Crowley,” you replied, “I’ll try to convince him to-”

Lilia interrupted you, shaking his head, “Talking won’t work. He’s made up his mind.”

“Then what do you expect me to do?” you asked in slight frustration.

Lilia’s eyes met yours, “You’re one of us… you understand us more than any keeper ever has. Surely you could sacrifice your humanity to tie together our family? That’s what the visitors really want to see.”

“One of you?” you echoed, “I’m human, I can’t-”

“Then let me make you one of us,” Malleus interrupted calmly, “My horns have magic, I can turn you into one of us easily.”

Lilia’s hand rested on your cheek, “We can’t survive without you, little one. Stay here, with us and let us keep you safe.”

“You’re sure this would save you all?” your voice came out as a whisper, but they all heard it clearly. One by one, they nodded.

Malleus’s horns began to glow as green as his eyes.

—----------------------------

“Look, Mom, look!” a little girl pointed down at you, “They’re so cute!”

Self-consciously, you drew your tail in, catching the two little white tiger cubs and bringing them closer to you. The twin toddlers giggled and hugged you, gently cuddling against the black panther baby cradled in your arms. 

Your belly was large- you’d be giving birth in a month from now. Whether they would be white tiger halflings or panthers would be a surprise for all of you. The zoo visitors put in votes for their guesses.

Like they’d hoped, the white tiger and black panther exhibit was popular- in fact, it was probably the most popular now that you had little cubs tottering around and looking cute. 

But at what cost?

Silver gently picked up a cub in each arm, “Give Mommy some rest.”

You blinked gratefully at him but didn’t say much. You were tired.

Everyone was happy this way! The visitors, the panthers, and the white tigers. 

Yeah, everyone was happy.

Everyone.

[enwoso]

Can you do one where Tiny gets tackled at football badly and Less has to stop Leah fighting a 4 year old and the ref 🤣

NOT ON MY WATCH | alessia russo x child!reader x leah williamson

grumpy masterlist

saturday mornings were always a whirlwind of activity in the russo household. the crisp air, the smell of freshly cut grass and the distant sound of cheering were the hallmark of football day.

as always on a saturday morning, alessia alongside leah for swapping their football boots for warm coats and gloves as they stood on the sidelines of a football pitch clutching warm drinks as they watched you play in your mini five aside game.

you'd always inherit your mummy's love for the game, you basically eat, sleep and breath football. granted it took a little more persuasion with the help of your little furry friend, benny the hamster, that leah pulled through with much to alessia dislike as to how much she could now hear that stupid hamster wheel through the night.

but nevertheless you were running up and down the pitch in your red and white predator boots with a determined expression painted across your face as you chased the ball with fierce concentration.

alessia beamed with pride every time you got involved in the action it much better to see you actually play than to pick the daisy's out the ground...

whereas leah, as always the competitive one was practically coaching you from the sidelines.

"come on tiny! push up! get to the ball!" leah shouted her voice louder than most of the parents as she flapped her arms around to show her intentions.

alessia nudged leah who was standing next to her, grinning, "relax babe, she's four. she's there to have fun. she's not playing for the lionesses" alessia teased.

"yet! she's not playing for them yet. but the little one has got talent! i'm just giving her a helping hand to help her reach her full potential." leah shot back with a smirk as she went back to yelling and flapping her arms around like a bird.

the game was fast paced and you were holding your own until, out of nowhere one the kids on the opposing team went in hard for the ball.

it wasn't a cleaner challenge by all means, it was a full on clumsy tackle. you went flying, landing in a heap on the grass.

alessia felt her heart stop as her throat went dry for a minute. you sat up, your bottom lip trembling as you looked around in confusion before bursting into tears.

alessia immediately moved to step forward but she wasn't quick enough. leah was already on the field pointing her finger as her face was filled with fury.

"leah!" alessia hissed, chasing after her.

leah stormed over to the child responsible, who was all of four years old and looked slightly alarmed as leah folded her arms across her chest.

"oi! what was that? you can't just go tackling people like that! she's tiny!" leah said her voice filled with authority as you were being helping back to your feet by your teammates.

the little boy in question who was now definitely regretting his decision blinked up at leah, wide eyed. "it- it was an accident" he squeaked.

"an accident? that didn't look like an accident to me!" leah shot back as she pointed dramatically to you as you were being comforted by your coach.

the referee, a teenager who looked like he'd much rather be anywhere else and most definitely just there for the few extra bucks it gave him, hurried over. "um excuse me, miss, you can't just-"

"and you!" leah spun on her heel, the little boy rushing off as leah cut the ref off mid sentence. "are you even watchin' the game? that was a clear foul! your supposed to protect the players you know!"

the referee's face flushed. "it's just a kids game miss. calm down-"

"calm down?! my girlfriend's daughter has just been basically flattened! how am i supposed to-"

"leah williamson!!" alessia interrupted, grabbing leah by the arm and pulling her back. "the kids four. your yelling at a four year old and the ref too. seriously?"

leah blinked, suddenly aware of the scene she was causing. parents on the sidelines were staring, some trying their best not to laugh, others looking concerned. alessia dragging leah off the pitch as she stopped back at their place on the sidelines looking the girl in the eye.

"babe, i know your upset. but lovies fine. she's tough, just like her mum." alessia said her voice calming but also firm. "let it go before you end up banned from mini-football and end up being slagged off in the parents groupchat."

leah hesitated, glancing back at the little boy who looked like he may start crying at any moment and then to the referee who was trying to organise the game so the restart could happen as he was probably wishing he had never agreed to the job.

finally leah sighed and nodded as her shoulders relaxed. "fine," she muttered, allowing alessia to hand her back her cup of coffee she's palaces down on the grass in a hurry. "but if he tackles her again, i'm not holding back."

"easy tiger. now we're gonna watch the rest of the game quietly, okay?" alessia said seriously trying her best to hide her grin.

leah held her hands up in surrender, "i'll be good. promise"

meanwhile you were back in your feet, your tears long gone as you wiped your face with the back to your hands and rejoined the game with the same determined energy you'd had before. alessia pointing you out to leah.

"see? she's already back out there. she's fine."

leah sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "yeah she's a little fighter. guess she doesn't need me losing my head for her."

"exactly, save yourself the trouble of the names you'd be called in the parents groupchat.." alessia trailed off a teasing smirk as leah shot her an intrigued look.

"like what?"

alessia waved it off as leah tried to get an answer from her but alessia stayed tight lipped, "besides, your scary enough to keep an entire under 5s team in line."

leah laughed, wrapping an arm around alessia's waist as they watched you chase the ball down the field, "scary? nah, just protective."

alessia smiled as she leant into her girlfriend, "she's lucky to have you."

"and you," leah replied, kissing alessia's temple.

the game ended with your team celebrating the their victory. you running over to them with your signature grin as you held up your little trophy, as well as a participation medal as your mummy scooped you up in her arms showering you with kisses as leah ruffled your hair.

"oh lovie you were so good out there, me and le are so proud of you." alessia grinned as she placed you back on the ground as you immediately went to take your shin pads out your socks.

"our little superstar, you were brilliant!" leah smiled ruffling your hair once again as you passed your shin pads to your mummy to hold along with your trophy.

"thanks!" you giggled, then looking up to leah your expression changing to a more serious look, "why were you shouting at the boy and the ref?"

alessia raised an eyebrow a teasing grin on her lips as she waited for leah to explain herself. leah scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. "uh, just.. makin' sure they know not to mess with you.."

you titled your head, "oh okay. but i can do that you know!"

alessia smile changed to a proud one as she nudged leah as a small giggled left her lips as she reached down to kiss your cheek, "see, that's my girl!"

[quartz-kilsviken]

Written in the Runes

Chapter 1

➸ Synopsis: Ekko, your mischievous yet endearing local troublemaker, trails a wealthy academy student from the topside. When you end up with the student’s satchel, you find a notebook filled with intriguing magical research. Unable to resist, you embark on a quest to uncover the secrets of this mysterious scholar.

➸ pairing: jayvik x reader

➸ word count: 3,649

➸ tags: Slow Burn, yearning, eventual smut, not canon compliant

➸ notes: This is going to be an eventual Jayce/Viktor/Reader romance. I want a boyfriend and I want my boyfriend to have a boyfriend. The goal is for this to be an incredibly slow burn. Timeline might differ slightly to the show, and I’m making shit up as I go. I don’t understand LOL lore or magic, nor do I want to. You can also find me on AO3 Quarts_Kilsviken :)

➸ Next Chapter Link- Pt.2

For centuries, art has served as a means to capture moments otherwise lost to time. It functions as a time capsule, preserving not only events but the emotions felt by the artist. Families fleeing war, yet pausing long enough to capture the image of a single flower—the delicate curve of its petals, the vivid color stark against an ash-covered ground. A mother, imparting forgotten magic beneath the soft glow of firelight, a pale blue shimmer in the child’s wide eyes. Runes etched into the dirt, knowing they can be erased in an instant. These fragments call to you, urging you to remember moments you’ve never known. Moments your mother never had the chance to share with you.

As your pencil glides across the thin paper, you wonder if, one day, someone will look back at your captured moments. Will they find meaning in the images of waves crashing against the dock and sense the longing that fills them? You doubt it. The flimsy paper will likely disintegrate into dust within a few years. Still, you continue—perched atop a warehouse roof, waiting for the familiar ship to arrive. These moments are yours, the sunrise painting colors across your pages unseen in your home.

With a long stretch, you stuff your sketchbook into your bag and begin the familiar descent down the side of the building. The cool breeze from the water seeps deeper into your jacket as you approach the ship. After a minute of waiting, the cold settles into your bones and you decide it’s far too frigid to remain outside any longer. Avoiding the eyes of the workers, you slip up the ship's ramp, hurrying down into the cabin.

“Got anything good today, Khal?” you call out, trying to suppress a wince as you hear the loud thump and the string of curses that follow. The yordle emerges from behind a stack of crates, rubbing the top of his head.

“Ah, damn it, I told you to stop coming in here. Couldn’t you wait another five minutes?” Khal mutters, continuing to gather various items from the crates, placing them carefully into a large black bag.

“I’m doing you a favor, really. Now you won’t have to make the trip outside. It’s windy today, Khal—you might get blown away,” you tease. He glares up at you, unamused by your joke as you stand over the bag. Realizing he has what you want, you try to smooth things over with your most innocent smile. “Seriously, you don’t have to thank me for going the extra mile. But if you do—”

“Sorry, kid, no magic stuff today.” He shakes his head, zipping the bag shut with a snap. “They’ve been cracking down at the borders. Rumors of a new drug shipment coming to the docks are making it impossible to get anything in.” Khal sighs, sensing your disappointment, though it’s clear he’s frustrated with the situation as well. “Look, I managed to get some paint from Noxus for you and the kid. I know it’s not what you were hoping for, but—”

You cut him off with a tight hug, leaning down to wrap your arms around the furry little man. Though he doesn’t return it, when you pull away, you spot the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Now get out of here before the enforcers start their rounds.” You grab the bag, tossing it over your shoulder. With a quick farewell, you make your way away from the water.

As you enter the Lanes, the cool breeze morphs into warm, acrid smog. Your feet instinctively know the route home, staying in the shadows so no one catches sight of the bag hanging from your back. You push through the door of the familiar shop, relieved to unload the weight of the bag. Benzo looks up at you from behind the counter as you make your way over. With a grunt, you hoist the bag onto the table,

“You know, Benzo, I should get hazard pay for this. My back’s gonna be shot by the time I’m thirty, I swear. Should start saving for an early retirement,” you joke.

“You’re already robbing me blind with what I pay you, little lady. Anyone give you trouble on your way back?” Benzo peers at you over the rim of his glasses.

“Nah, not today,” you say, hopping over the counter and tossing a few items onto the shelves. “With all these new trade precautions, I bet most people don’t think it’s worth the hassle anymore.” You wrinkle your nose at a rusty pocket watch, trying to decide if it’s even worth trying to sell. Benzo sighs and settles back in his chair, apparently leaving the rest to you. You continue sorting through the shelves, but something’s off. No, scratch that—a lot is off. You stop mid-motion, eyes darting to the now-empty display. “Were we robbed?”

It takes him a second to figure out where you’re looking, and when he does, he chuckles, clearly unbothered. “Nah, some academy kid cleared out the display a couple hours ago. Ekko made a killing off him.” You knew you’d never have enough to buy even one of the items, but it still stings to know they’re gone.

“What would an academy kid even want with magic artifacts?” You bite the words out, too sharp, too bitter. You immediately try to reel it back. “He probably doesn’t even know what he’s got—just hoarding them to show off to his rich friends.”

Benzo shrugs like he’s heard it all before. “You know the drill. We don’t question customers.” He takes a beat, then adds, “But if it helps, the kid seemed pretty knowledgeable.” That makes you feel a little better, though not enough to erase the empty, hollow feeling in your chest. The case sits vacant, mocking you.

Suddenly, the door slams open with a crash, followed by a flash of white hair as the little whirlwind zips across the room. Before you can even react, the kid darts through the back door like he’s on a mission.

You can’t help it—you burst out laughing at the sight of Benzo, stone-faced, staring after the boy. With a quick swipe of your hand, you snatch the paint from the now empty bag, slip through the door, and head after him. Listening carefully, you figure he’s made it down the stairs to his room. You knock softly before poking your head inside. Ekko’s in the process of shoving something under his bed, looking incredibly guilty. When he sees you, his face lights up with a giant smile. The kid’s clever, but not great at hiding things.

“I’ve got something for you, little man,” you say, leaning against the bed. You wave the paint palette in front of his face, teasing him, but snatch it away before he can grab it. “If you want it, you’re gonna have to tell me what’s under there.”

Ekko starts pacing, looking like he’s weighing his options, then stops, squints at you, and says, “You have to promise you won’t tell Benzo.”

You put on a mock-serious face, tapping your chin. “Depends. Did you kidnap someone? ‘Cause I’m not sure I wanna be an accomplice to kidnapping.”

“No,” Ekko says, a little too quickly, his eyes darting nervously under the bed.

“Fraud?”

“No.”

“Murder?”

“No.”

You chuckle and shake your head, finally giving in. “Fine. I won’t tell Benzo.”

Ekko resumes his pacing, looking oddly pleased with himself. “Okay, so this guy comes in earlier today. Buys a bunch of fancy stuff—the kind we usually keep behind glass. He’s got a ton of money, I’m talking a lot.” He pauses, grinning. “Obviously, I charged him double.” He snickers to himself, then continues. “Anyway, I was curious, so I followed him.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow, you still are. You stare at him, rubbing your forehead. “Ekko, really? Benzo said he’s an academy student. You followed him all the way topside?”

Ekko avoids your eyes, and you already know the answer. “Ekko.”

“No one saw me, I swear!” He glances back at the bed, stalling. After a deep breath, he adds, “Okay, so the guy put his bag down to grab his keys, then went inside—probably too distracted with the rest of his stuff to remember he left it behind.”

You gasp. Without thinking, you dive under the bed and, sure enough, pull out a satchel. You immediately regret your earlier promise. “Ekko, what if there’s something valuable in here? If he gets enforcers involved and this is going to be the first place they look.”

Ekko waves a hand dismissively. “Come on. Think about it. He came in for a bunch of illegal stuff. He’s not going to risk it. Plus, he’s loaded. Whatever’s in that bag, he can buy it again.”

You look at the satchel again, hesitating for a moment. Then, curiosity wins out. You pat the floor next to you, and Ekko eagerly plops down beside you. You pop open the bag and dump its contents onto the floor in one smooth motion. Ekko dives into the mess with excitement, while you start inspecting the items. It’s a mess—books, pens, random junk. Exactly what you’d expect from an academy student.

Ekko picks up a wallet and flips through it before remembering that he already cleaned out the guy’s coin. Losing interest, he starts to toss it aside, but you snatch it up before he can. It’s plain, brown leather with neat stitching—nothing special, but maybe it’s worth a little something. As you dig inside, your fingers catch on a student ID card. It’s scratched up but still in decent condition. You flip it over, and a pair of big eyes stare back at you. The blurry picture shows a young man, maybe in his early twenties, with a wide, gap-toothed grin. Handsome, you think, not at all who I imagined. You slide the card back into place and shove the wallet into your jacket pocket.

Ekko’s rummaging through the rest of the bag, clearly unimpressed by the contents. You laugh at the face he’s making and, still grinning, grab the paint you’d dropped earlier. “Khal said these are from Noxus. Definitely worth a lot. So, don’t let Mylo use them to paint middle fingers on Jericho’s stall.”

Ekko snickers, jumping up to stow the paint away, tossing the pens he grabbed from the bag into a drawer with a careless flick. He starts cramming the rest of the bag’s contents back in, and you look over at him, an eyebrow raised. “Do you mind if I, uh, borrow your stolen bag?”

Without missing a beat, Ekko flashes you a sly grin. “Sure, but just so you know, that officially makes you an accomplice now.”

You can’t help but laugh as you leave Ekko’s room and wander down the hall. By the time you collapse on your bed, the exhaustion hits you like a wave. Dock runs only happen once a month, but they require staying up all night—leaving right after sunset and staying until the ship docks at sunrise. It used to be so much easier—endless nights that never seemed to take a toll. But now, as your joints creak and protest, you feel like a 23-year-old who’s already past their prime. You glance down at the satchel, chewing the inside of your cheek. You’ve already gone through it—hell, you dumped its contents all over Ekko’s floor. So why the sudden wave of guilt?

You decide to be more careful this time, taking things out slowly. The first item is a crumpled piece of paper, which turns out to be a grocery list. You set it aside with a sigh and reach for the next thing: a hardcover book, dark blue canvas, its corners fraying with age. The moment you touch it, you can tell it’s old—the scent of it, the brown tint of the pages. The text is foreign, some language you can’t quite place. Maybe it’s from overseas? Curiosity gnaws at you, but you set the book aside and move to the next.

This one catches your attention immediately. The cover’s worn, but it’s the script inside that makes your heart beat a little faster. You flip through the pages and realize it’s a grimoire. Runes cover every inch, some familiar, others completely alien. How did he get his hands on this? Sure, he’s rich, but something so detailed, so rare? There’s no way it would’ve come from Piltover. The heat of anger burns through you, a deep, familiar ache that’s almost like grief. He’s carrying around a book that details the same magic your family nearly died for. But is it really just anger? No, it’s something else. The pages seem to hum, drawing you in, much like your mother’s paintings once did—pulling you toward something. Your past? No… not this time. It’s something else entirely.

Finally, you pull out the last book from the satchel. It feels heavier, like it’s carrying something more than just weight. You run your fingers over the hammer etched into the cover, studying its details before opening it. Inside, it’s filled with messy notes and diagrams, all jumbled but with a clear purpose. This is it—this is what he’s been working on. He’s trying to harness magic.

Though your body is screaming for rest, you can’t bring yourself to put the book down. When you finally glance at the clock, it’s already 5 AM, but you’re still lost in the pages. You’re hooked—caught in the madness of it all. It’s brilliant. Insane. Revolutionary. And completely, utterly terrifying. His scrawl is all over every page, his signature tucked into the corner of each one. Even though this is clearly just one of many notebooks—a fraction of his larger body of work—it all makes perfect sense. Harnessing arcane energy through crystals. Capturing raw, chaotic magic and transforming it into a usable, practical source.

It’s clear he knows what he’s doing, but there’s something missing in his understanding of the arcane itself. His notes drip with frustration, especially where he’s tried to decode the runes—almost every page filled with scribbles, crossed-out lines, and half-baked theories. It’s as if he’s so close, yet there’s a final piece that eludes him.

And then it hits you. You might be that missing piece.

You’re no scholar, and you certainly aren’t a genius, but you know more than most when it comes to the arcane. You’ve lived it, felt it, and you can see the gaps in his research—things that could be the key to unlocking it all. Maybe you could help him. You feel the weight of the possibility, the urgency of his discovery. It’s world-changing. The visions he’s drawn out on each page show the immense potential for how this technology could revolutionize not just Piltover, but the Undercity, too. His research could bridge the gap between the two worlds, completely reshaping everything in its wake.

But as the minutes slip by and your eyelids grow heavier, you realize your body can no longer keep up with your racing thoughts. The words on the page blur into one long stream, and before you know it, your head tilts to the side. Your hand slips from the notebook as sleep finally pulls you under, the weight of your thoughts fading into the quiet dark.

You’re stirred awake by a quiet knock on your door. “You dead in there?” Benzo’s voice filters through, soft but insistent. As your mind clears, you realize your bed is strewn with the contents of the stolen satchel. Panic flickers for a moment before you shove the books back into the bag, tossing it under the bed just as he softly cracks the door open. Benzo stands in the doorway, glancing over you with a raised brow.

“You look like death,” he says with a tired chuckle. “How long you been sleeping?”

“Uh...” You glance at the clock. It’s already 6 PM. You wince. “About thirteen hours.”

He rubs his temples, sighing. “Get cleaned up, then come watch the shop for a while. I’ve gotta head out with Vander.” The fatigue is clear in his face, the lines around his eyes deepening.

“What happened? Is he okay?” You start picking out clothes, your movements automatic as the weight of the situation begins to settle in.

He exhales sharply, dropping down onto your bed with a heavy sigh. “Vander’s fine. But the kids... well, they’ve stirred up some serious trouble. You missed all the fun. Yesterday there was an explosion and a chase topside. And today? Enforcers barging in here looking for four kids. They tried to rob a rich academy topsider, but things went sideways. I heard the whole side of the building got blasted off, and now the Enforcers are crawling all over the Undercity.”

Your stomach drops. “Was anyone hurt?”

He glances at you, his expression softening. “No, thank the gods. But the building—turns out it was the Kirammans’ place. What was in there? I don’t even want to think about it.” His gaze sharpens. “The kids will be fine. Vander and I will handle it. But they need to lay low for a while. Knowing them, though, that’ll be a battle.”

You nod quietly, though the weight in your chest only grows heavier as he exits your room. After a quick shower, you find yourself behind the shop counter, brown cloak draped loosely around you, trying to mask the weight on your shoulder. The place is eerily still, save for the hum of your own racing thoughts. Your eyes stay fixed on the door as you wait, the uneasy silence pressing in.

When the door finally opens, it’s Ekko who walks in, looking surprised to see you behind the counter instead of Benzo. His usual brash energy is subdued, and he leans against the counter, avoiding your eyes.

“Bet you already heard what happened,” he mutters, picking at some invisible spot on the counter. “Vander’s really upset with us.”

The weight of his words hits harder than you expect. For all the bravado Ekko tries to show, you know how deeply he feels. You reach over, ruffling his hair, offering what little comfort you can. “Hey, little man, it’s gonna be okay. Everyone makes mistakes. I get why you did it. Vander and Benzo, they’ve made their own share of screw-ups, so they have plenty of experience fixing them.” Ekko gives a small, grateful smile at that. “Go get some sleep, alright? Things’ll cool down by tomorrow.”

Just as you finish speaking, the bell rings, and Benzo reappears, starting to lower the shutters. Before he locks the door, you move to slip out. “Get some rest, you two. I’m heading out for the night.”

Ekko gives you a tired wave as he heads for the back. Benzo, however, doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“You know,” he says, arms crossed, voice low, “I can’t stop you, but I’m still gonna tell you—it’s a bad idea. Enforcers are everywhere. There’s fighting on every corner.”

You both hold eye contact for a long beat, but he lets out a resigned sigh. “No arguing with you, is there? Go on, get out of here.” He opens the door for you, and you catch him off guard with a quick hug before slipping out into the night. His grumble follows you as the door clicks shut behind you.

The streets are a war zone. Enforcers litter every corner, and the air is thick with tension. You move through the Undercity carefully, staying in the shadows as much as you can, until you reach Piltover. There, it’s quieter, and for a moment, you feel a strange kind of relief.

There’s no sign of enforcers from atop the large buildings, but as you crouch to catch your breath, the sight in front of you makes your chest tighten. From this angle, calling it an explosion doesn’t even come close. The place looks like it’s been torn apart. A sinking feeling settles in your gut.

It makes sense the building looks abandoned now—who would stick around in a wreck like this? But then you realize it: you came here without a plan. What was your angle? Strut in, say you’ve got stolen research, and hope for the best? Ridiculous. Still, you’ve come this far. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get a bit closer.

With a deep breath, you sprint across the gap to the next rooftop, landing lightly and pausing to steady yourself. And there they are. Two figures, barely visible in the wreckage, illuminated only by the faint glow of a lamp. One is scribbling on a chalkboard, broad shoulders following the movements of his writing. The other holding a book in one hand and gripping a cane in the other, standing a step behind him. You squint, trying to make out the messy writing, but the shadows blur everything.

Just then, they turn—though you know they can’t possibly see you. Still, a chill runs down your spine, and you freeze, watching them move through a door, disappearing deeper into the building.

That’s when it hits you—the pull. The whispers, soft in the breeze. The tug in your chest. Every moment, every choice, has led to this. The memories flood back: your mother’s hands glowing with magic, her soft voice teaching you. Benzo, taking your hand as he led you from the ruins of your home, offering you a new place where you could rebuild, and with it, the hope that you could be more.

And now you’re here.

You feel the wind, the pull drawing you forward. Without thinking, you leap.

[alexanderflowerbird]

I’m opening commissions for Valentine’s Day yippee! For 60 USD I will draw your OCs kissin’ and makin’ googoo eyes at each other like in any of these examples! It’ll be 25 USD more to add more characters, don’t be shy, bring me your polycules!

I can’t do robots, furries or NSFW- not because I think any of those are bad just I’m not as good at them lol if you have references of your characters, please feel free to send them to me! And telling me about your OC’s romance is a MUST but don’t send me a dissertation lol I know how hard it can be to keep it short and sweet talkin’ about our Barbies kissing but give me only the juiciest goss so I draw them with the vibes they deserve. You may DM me for details, or contact me over email at rosieartsie16@gmail.com

I can accept payment over PayPal or Cashapp

I’m opening commissions cuz I love drawing romantic stuff, but also so I can beef up my wallet to go see my lover and his wife for Valentine’s Day! You know how it be in that polycule life lol so if you wanna give your friend or loved one the gift of art made by me of your OCs being ROMANTICAL AS HELL, please contact me! Also please share this if you think you might have friends who are interested! Thanks 💖

[thealchemistsfantasy]

To younger fans from a fnaf veteran

I'd just like to say to everyone reading this, especially those who are young and still in school, that being a fan of this franchise isn't "cringe." Cringe is a word made up by people who want to shame you for being passionate and liking things they think are stupid. What is really cringe is disingenuity and hating on those who like things you don't. I was around 9 in 2014 when the games first released and I got into them, and I've struggled a long time with my relationship with this franchise growing up because of the way the internet felt about it.

I wish I didn't spend as much of my childhood as I did being ashamed or embarrassed of letting anyone know I was a fan of the series. Afraid of anyone seeing me buy toys, or merch. I wish I still didn't feel anxiety as a 20 year old woman when I think about telling somebody I meet that I'm a fan of the franchise. I've always loved this franchise with every ounce of my soul, but I wish I was never afraid to show it. I wish I could go back and have the courage to embrace it the way you do now.

I can prove to you that what they're saying isn't true. Look at how the series was perceived in the late 2010s, it was "cringe" and "full of furries" (used in the derogatory sense) and generally unpleasant. Now remember the FNaF movie and how suddenly it was cool to like it again and those same people who would bully others are now lining up to see it. You'd think if it was truly cringe then it would always be cringe, but it isn't because cringe isn't a real thing.

That's how you know what they're saying isn't true. I'm making this post because I wish somebody had made it for me back when I was still a kid. There is nothing wrong with loving something with every inch of your heart.

I'm a 20 year old woman, I love this franchise and my love is so deep, it's so much a part of me that I doubt it will ever really go away. I will probably always love this franchise, but I regret not loving it the way that I should have. You have that opportunity. You have the courage. Love earnestly with your whole heart. Please grow up with the courage to love with all you have. Not just FNaF but with anything else. It's one of the most important things you will ever do for yourself. Live and love on your own terms, for me and for yourself.

Please share if you can.

[gangstalkerbarbie]

I think this is easily explained: they surround themselves with other internet artists for support, and as a community artists on the internet idolise like, the furries among them, because the furries have money, a communitarian ethos and knowledge of what they like, and generally as artists themselves they tend to appeal the most to the furry hand of the market.

Also they're often disabled, they usually understand what that's like from a labour rights pov, and many of these furries who used to be starving subsistence artists go on to have remote tech jobs with which they can effectively afford to support their old communities and maintain artists like Renaissance nobility. So there's a kind of cross pollination between producers and consumers of art that isn't there on other art scenes, actually a quite considerate one - considerate, but artistically quite conservative. You can watch tastes change, but they change rather slowly.

I think this is what leads to this clean and pressed but sterile art style as a norm — people who buy art or who make the most frequently bought art have the luxury of telling everyone else how to do it, and when they get really good at it of course people want to know their secrets. And of course they want to help, they want other people to be good at the hobby they like (just as a self respecting patissier would never shit on someone else's cake, because holy fuck, two cakes).

But here we run into how again, "good" in art online has a tendency to mean "marketable to the furry autistic trans women with the money and desire to buy art", who themselves are often artists who moulded their style to be cool and marketable based on input from other artists who... and so on.

Also a good number of people are too shy to post their beginning art online in front of general audiences, but they will one way or another find themselves drawing furry porn to learn the fundamentals on the ground, for a few reasons but most importantly because furries will spam like anything (again, as an expression of that communitarian ethos - the most supportive people on my own artistic journey have been furries, I consider myself sort of furry lite, etc).

Furry porn as a genre doesn't so much care about fluidity of expression or joie de vivre as it cares about ... whatever the audience cares about. You know? Feet, ass and titties rendered in fantastic, crisp, comicbooklike, maybe not necessarily detailed but extremely readable glory. Shark penis. Snake penis. Tigertaur being milked with industrial machinery. Dragon in loving congress with automobile.

You can oftentimes tell, among people with this super cleanly rendered kind of marketable art style, who draws porn and what porn it is and who was just In These Circles at formative times. Bara artists sometimes draw muscles and proportions in a very exaggerated way in their personal art without necessarily wanting to, for example, because that's often still the only way they know how, and the only way they're confident with. Foot guys give their stacked fox girls very detailed paw pads but often haven't learned to do eyes more than passably. And so on, and so forth.

It doesn't have to be good or even artistically satisfying to the artist — if it's marketable even remotely, someone will pay a very reasonable amount of delicious, green, fungible lucre for it, which is great for people who don't want to starve, but can be a precarious place to begin to grow in a new direction from. Once you're "in", you have to have both the luxury and the bandwidth to actively try to change how you do things, and under these conditions new artists see a lot of people earning money for drawing a certain way.

This is also why the most painterly high fantasy type styles tend to belong either to people who went to school for art or to people who had, um, /other/ formative influences, like fantasy illustrators, their own hippie mothers, etcetera.

nothing sadder to me than when an online artist posts a side by side of the same picture from 5 years ago / redrawn this year, and the first one is fluid and energetic and full of character, and the second one is flat and static and clean to the point of sterility

[jellyaibo]

closed species are so funny like what if i just make a design . will you fucking stop me? ooooOOoooo ill make a primagen oooOOoO THE PENCIL IS ON MY PAAAAPER OOOOoooOoOOo

[taffywabbit]

funny fluffy skunk for @shockpine my good friend @shockpine!!!! yay yippee hooray 🦨

[chalkrub]

putting my response to the palette challenge from oc-tober on da main blog because it accidentally became a full illustration. whoops. but this palette is like a brother to me and it fit mendel so well...what was i to do

[inutiliacapra]

worm and salmon woodburning :))) 🪱

eerrrm .. finally woodburning this piece... that i had sitting in my closet for 2 years... also uhhhmmm *dies* i almost died when i didnt take my meds for the last 3 days never fucking do that it was HORRIBLE but im glad to be back on them things feel better

[ronkeyroo]

I'll 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 through concrete Past the dirt and through the cracks There will be 𝙣𝙤 surface that keeps me down

[paperfen]

Torbek says to keep yourself safe, but theres more art below the cut! CW: Scars and discussion of surgery

Fun Fen Fact! Some back surgeries require surgeons to go through the abdomen, and although newer research is showing the complications of doing so, I don't think feywild witchlight doctors really care about that! :) In my own personal headcanon (hehehe) I say that Torbek has quite a large scar on his back and a thin long scar on his abdomen where the tubing of the witchlight was pulled through and grafted to his body tissue and possibly organs. Each of the scars that has a witchlight tube connected to it constantly seems infected and angry. Both because Torbek messes with his tubes a lot and because his body is still aggravated by the witchlight. The only scar that has healed somewhat cleanly is the scar on his front, which will probably eventually grow fur again in time once Torbek stops picking at the scabs (so me fr). The notch in his ear is from him ripping out the tag that was once in it. His right paw is more or less permanently disfigured and discolored, being the dominant hand that he would use for combat and therefore being the most witchlight-manipulated. The visible veins of witchlight on his right claws glow and pulse, sometimes entirely seeming to disappear. I really really really wish I knew how his canisters work I want to know their mechanical secrets so BADLY!!! I'm only up to ep 34 im dying to learn the secrets of the Torbek I also find it extremely amusing that I did the lineart for the warning but not the lineart for the actual piece that the warning is for LMAO

[givemedamage]

damn i should’ve titled this why is every state animal a whitetail deer?…… (the things innards are under the cut )

[catcomixzstudios]

I can barely begin to express how much the course of my life has been altered because of a 40 minute highlight video done by @jelloapocalypse and friends riffing over a 20 year old sky pirate game.

I made an off-handed comment after watching it together with two of my longtime friends, about how much I wish I had what Vyrsa had, and one of those friends STRAIGHT-UP TELLS ME that her and her wife have been crushing on me for a while.

The feeling was mutual, though I'd been of course hesitant to even hint at it.

Anyway now a few months later, we're a thruple, and we decided to honor the genesis of our relationship by cosplaying as the trio that made it a reality for my 30th birthday!

PinkCatNinja, me (CatComixzStudios), and ArtieStokes as Aika, Vyce Vyrsa, and Fina respectively, from SKIES OF ARCADIA!

And as a bonus, a comment I left on the video before my egg would crack completely (was still IDing as genderfluid at the time)