#oc finn

[rogdona]

[skeletonofagoose]

YAY

[tastescomics]

When all you have left on laundry day to wear is an old high school shirt and torn underwear... >->"

[loulouhattie]

Halsin, what are you doing with Finns face

Full pic on patreon xoxo

[delightfully-deranged-dagur]

Total Drama OC Icons part 1

Alex & Augustus

Cherry & Darla

Diego & Finn

Flo & Gabriel

Isa & Janus

[sparkdoesart]

Some arts of reallyy old ocs but in a different style! :D

These 3 are from so so very long ago...

I think their names were- something, icey, and..... scaleene?? Like I said, very old

My main warriors oc that I hyperfixated on throughout elementary school :3 Moonsong

BIGGGG demon croc from Callie's story

Doodle of ghost,,,

Two ocs from a story I barely remember that I believe was inspired by animal jam in a way... couldn't tell you their names but the fennec is missing a leg

I'll post my favorite ones separately since I'm running out of image spaces :33

Uhm- last minute addition- I did these completely from memory and did the fox's design wrong- but I found an old drawing of her so I fixed it! :]

[crab-milk]

a study of different masculine body types with ocs and finn as a fledgling sorcerer :^)

[wolfhertz]

Not posting for 8 months only to come back out of the blue with my disaster AC kiddos 💅

Reblogs are appreciated ❤

[mjdrawsalot]

Made a poll on IG and folks said they want character profiles while the comic is on break

Here's my ginger lonely boy, who made a cameo on a billboard in issue 1!

[fishtnp]

Finn :3

[rogdona]

[skeletonofagoose]

Sorry I haven’t posted any art in a while!

Here’s a concept lineup of my darlings

I’m having trouble the most with Cill (the one on the very right)(the bird) so if you have any tips on how I can fix his colours that would be greatly appreciated!

[tastescomics]

I had a request for Finn to indulge in one of the gain potions, seeing him big and happy… seems like he'd rather do things the old fashioned way. Does make one wonder how he'd feel about the Treble Burst candies, that Token has shared with him, if he found out that they were magic… >o> The bigger size it pretty close to his goals though x)

[spirituallupine-art]

More icons for the Toyhouse™️

[delightfully-deranged-dagur]

Some proper lineups for my TD OCs

The Deranged Bats 🦇🟣

The Ballistic Deer 🦌🟡

[little-prick]

Consuming - Finnean Valentines Day Special

Warnings: Blood (not yours), mentions of vomiting and heaving.

There's something special about today. That's what Finn said when you woke up this morning, at least. He won't tell you what, and it's not like he's about to let you have a calendar, so you're only allowed to guess what he could possibly be talking about. He's been gone all day, leaving you cuffed to the bed.

You stare out the window, watching as clouds roll past and the day goes on. You wish he'd at least give you a book, but when you ask he always says the same thing.

"You're my entertainment, why am I the one entertaining you?"

A book is off the table. He's made it very clear that the only way you're allowed to amuse yourself is by amusing him. And if you aren't amusing him then he has no reason to keep you alive.

You roll onto your side in an attempt to keep your joints from stiffening, but the uncomfortable tug on your arm isn't exactly helping you adjust. Just as you're about to give up hope of keeping your limbs from falling asleep, you hear the front door open.

Finnean appears in the doorway moments later, looking a bit ruffled. His hair is askew and there's dirt on his clothes. He must've been out disposing of some old art supplies. You've grown accustomed to calling them art supplies rather than what they really are, it helps keep you from the sickening realization that this home is full of ghosts.

"Did you miss me, Mouse?" He saunters up to you, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat. "I sure missed you. It's so boring out in the woods by myself, I would have liked some company." He runs his finger along the shell of your ear as he observes you.

"But it's over now, I have some fun planned for us. It's a special occasion after all." He's leaning down now, face to face with you. He's taken to this sort of behavior more often lately, clinging to you, invading your personal space.

If you were stupid you'd think he was in love with you or something. Like that would ever happen. The only one Finn is capable of loving is himself, you're sure of that.

"You still haven't told me what's so special about today," you say. His smile widens ever so slightly.

"And ruin the surprise? Perish the thought, Mouse. You just have to wait until I'm ready to show you." Show you. You shudder.

Every time Finn has had something to show you, it's been something so gruesome and distressing that you have nightmares about it non-stop. Nightmares that he loves to watch you have. He says that your little whimpers are adorable, that the way you squirm is tantalizing.

You really wish you'd just stop dreaming altogether.

Finnean stares into your eyes just long enough to be unsettling, relishing the way you shrink under his gaze.

"I don't know that I want to see this surprise," you mutter. Finn just laughs. You hate how human his laugh sounds, as if he were a person and not a beast. As though he wasn't a monster.

"Don't be like that. I promise you'll like this one." He uncuffs you and begins dragging you out of bed. It seems like you don't have a choice.

You land flat on your ass as he shoves you into the art room, the hardwood floor a subpar cushion for your fall. Finn towers over you, watching as you obediently find your usual spot in the corner. He stares at you for a moment, satisfied, before letting you know that you'll be joining him in front of the canvas today.

"You're going to help me today, my little Mouse. I've had this piece in mind for weeks now." He opens a large cabinet on the far side of the wall. The bad cabinet. The cabinet you dread seeing every time you enter the room.

Within this big black cabinet, are large bottles, filled with a deep red liquid. Blood. But that's only the half of it. Finnean keeps a number of his more sensitive supplies. Paintbrushes made with human hair. Syringes and blades and chemicals. Gloves and towels and cleaning supplies.

You watch as he carefully selects a jug, motioning for you to approach with his free hand. You instinctively shake your head. Smirking, Finn comes to you, lazily swinging the bottle as he does. He nearly throws it at you, causing you to shriek as you're forced to decide whether you want to dodge or catch within milliseconds.

You decide, or rather, your instincts decide to catch, luckily for you. You're sure that if it had hit the floor it would have splattered and gotten all over you. You're sure Finnean would have just loved that.

"You're participating today, you'd better get used to touching it now." He grabs your wrist, dragging you over to the canvas.

"You know, Mouse, sometimes, I find myself lacking inspiration. No tool seems to properly convey the inner workings of my soul. I couldn't help but wonder if there was a better brush to help me translate your essence to the canvas," he explains, he's staring at the canvas as he speaks, as if overtaken by his vision.

"That's why you're going to be my brush today." Your stomach sinks. You can hardly stand touching the container, you'd surely faint before getting your hands on the contents. You subconsciously begin to back away, which he notices immediately, pulling you flush to his side with a grin.

"You'll do that for me, right?" He says it like a friend asking for a favor, but the meaning is clear: 'You won't annoy me, right?' Because both of you know what he's capable of if you do.

He doesn't wait for an answer as he uncaps the jug. A sharp copper scent greets you, coaxing a gag. You don't dare pull away as he rolls up your sleeve and holds out your hand, palm facing up.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to block it all out, but the sensation of sticky fluid flowing over your fingers and dripping down your forearm is too much. You dry heave and your breath quickens, the room shrinks, walls closing in on you. He may be a murderer, but you quite literally have blood on your hands now.

He laughs. God you hate it when he does that, even more so in this moment. How could he laugh? How could he enjoy this?

"Don't freak out just yet, we've barely started," your eyes are shut tight, but you can hear the grin in his voice, taunting, mocking. You feel sick.

A hand comes up to your cheek, tracing some sort of pattern on it. You barely register the sticky substance coating your face as you gasp from the coldness of his hands.

"God, you really are so fun to play with, little mouse. And you know what else?" He leans in, breath fanning over your ear, sending a violent shudder through you, "You look so pretty covered in blood. Red really is your color."