#oc mārīte tag

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this weeks oc art dump! yay. plus a wip that im procrastinating on

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idk how this happened but im not mad about it

"Why are you awake?"

"Mm?" Sylvester hums, looking up at the man, eyes tired and hair unkempt. The clock reads close to 4 in the morning.

"You heard me. What are you doing up?" Butcher asks again, sitting down next to Sylvester on the couch.

"Pre-flight jitters?" He asks, pulling the man into his lap, who slowly relaxes, as Butcher's scarred hands knead at Sylvester's shoulders ever-so gently, wanting him to relax.

"I.. think so."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"What if I'm making a mistake?"

"Elaborate." Butcher pries, hands still on the older man's body.

"What if.. I ruin their lives? They'll be alone. Absolutely alone."

"Oh c'mon, give Mary and Sam a little more credit. She's tough as nails and the boy trusts you like a dog. Besides, you three will be alone together. The kids trust and adore you, dollface. They'll be fine. "

"...And if they're not...?" He asks after a brief silence, before expanding "what if.. What if none of us are alright?"

"Then you remember my damn number and call me. I'll get your sorry asses back in my arms the moment shit goes south, y'hear?"

"Yeah... I hear."

"Good kitty. C'mon, back to sleep with you now. You gotta get some sleep. Eye bags ain't cute on that muzzle of yours." Butcher states simply, pulling a blanket over the both of them, still on the couch.

"I'll be right here, kit. Just get some rest." He coos, pressing a soft kiss into the other's hair, still holding him. He savors the feeling of Sylvester's face nestling in the crook of his neck. He stops his impromptu massage when the short man's breathing evens out, smiling sadly at the thought that he leaves tomorrow, but pushes the thought away.

"Dream of me, dollface." He murmurs, staring up at the ceiling, avoiding looking at the packed suitcases.

"... Please."

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in that moment, all sylvester could do, was stare. the bag of groceries slipped from his grasp unceremoniously, landing on the asphalt with a thud.

it felt like his mind was lagging behind. forcing him to watch his body move in slow-motion, yet also at light speed. there was a brief moment of silence between the three, mārīte already clinging to sylvester's leg, staring at the stranger too. she's about to pipe up, when he regains his composure, the awkward moment, as well as his shock, fading away.

he shakes his hand, being oddly gentle, despite the obvious difference in stature, just silently hoping the man doesn't notice how cold and clammy his is. and he lets go sooner than either party would have liked to, but its clear his nerves are getting to him

"... fate took her damn time.. im... i'm sylvester.. this here is mary.. my apologies i.. figured you don't exist, to put it bluntly" the man laughs nervously, clearly intimidated... but a quick glance at his own wrist, confirmed what the man said. its pointing right at the stranger.

but despite the unusual situation, the tiny girl's eyes sparkle, as she gets yet another onslaught of questions that demand to be answered.. just what her father didnt want to hear, his expression hardening just by seeing that little glint.

"does this mean i have two dads? why is your name stone? will you live with us-"

luckily, a firm stare is all it took for her to quiet down, as sylvester addressed his.. soulmate..? once more, now a bit more composed, as he reaches down to grasp his grocery bag, the other one patting the head of his (their...) daughter.

"my apologies... children love questions... it's.. its lovely to meet you... sir. unfortunately.. i dont have much time"

however, in their hasty return to their apartment, sylvester at least had the clarity to slip the man one of his business cards.

aesthetically, nothing special. just a few buzzwords on it, his face, but most imporantly, a number.

by the time stone snaps out of it and glances up, the pair are already down the block, stepping into the stairwell of an apartment space

crying in the club cuz i have no idea how to continue onto. That. cuz i have no idea how stone would behave in that soulmate situation aAAA,,,

/lh

Don't worry, my brain is working now, thank God. But I'm afraid I might not do Sylvester's dialogue justice, so I just... I'll do a little and then we'll bounce off each other.

Stone stared down at the silver-haired man who was his soulmate, if the compass was to be true.

Maybe it was malfunctioning, it wouldn't surprise him if he was the first person person to have a malfunctioning compass tattoo. He was so unlucky in life with everything else, why should he believe a soulmate was in the cards for him?

But the man in front of him... Stone could feel it in his bones it was true, though his usual paranoia waged war with his heart and gut. He wanted so badly for it to be true that this man was his soulmate. And that made him braver than usual, bringing back his yearning to have someone beside him.

Stone realized he was taking too long to respond, so he cleared his throat. "It seems... It seems my compass tattoo is directing towards you," he said, cursing himself internally as his voice was cold as usual. He could not shake his usual cold and stoic demeanor, not even in the face of his soulmate.

He looked down at the man's daughter, noticing her bright eyes on him. He would've tried to smile, if he knew how to. His attempt probably would scare her, he told himself. It was a shame, he felt the stirring of fatherhood towards her despite not even knowing her yet.

"I'm... Call me, Stone," he added, sticking his large hand out for the man to shake. Even now, he couldn't tell this stranger, his soulmate, his name. "It seems fate has brought us together, at last."

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struggled to come up with ideas so... woe oc art be upon thee!! shes cute in clown outfits so it works out :•)

day 2's prompt: pride

@clownartmonth

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pspsps @izak-gov and @rain112-darling come get yalls soup

[colour pallete link here]

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live laugh love mārīte!! 🐞❤️

testing out the colour variety i can get with a singular ink

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additionally, Līva isnt even a cat hybrid herself. the reason Mārīte is a maine coon hybrid, is because the man she cheated on Sylvester with had maine coon genetics in his lineage, even though he himself looked fully human.

Such is also the reason Līva despises Mārīte to the point of declawing and filing her fangs: she didnt know about the rest of his family and was expecting a 100% human child.

blinking at you

what breed of cat do you associate with sylvester?

(i can never remember if you’ve already said, WHOOPS.)

sylvester's russian blue shorthair while mārīte is a mainecoon :) those are the actual breeds of them and why they look so different from each other !!

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girlfriends :)

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getting around to drawing traditionally. heres mārīte in acrylic markers and ballpoint pen, and katie in alcohol markers, loose india ink + gel pens >:3

individual pages (with slight colour correction)

and progress shots!! >:3

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cool cat club members enjoying a nice break from work (only 1 of them is a paid employee)

@the-whispers-of-death i hope i did Laila and Monster justice. i did not know what i was doing with them

and @asexualbuthorny woe my silly doodles be upon thee

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reuploading this, but now with a timelapse because i thought it'd be fun

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feel like its been a while. so. oc dump time

featuring some from the design phase. cuz i think its fun

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art dump. for the soul

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I'm in dire need of some fluff, so I'm humbly requesting for a little blurb of Sylvester with little Sammy and Mārīte (because we can never have enough content of Sylvester and the kids being happy).

throwing in butcher too, because im never not gonna get over them 4 as a little family unit. and im calling butcher adam here because i myself need to get used to it still. idk what this is. movie night, apparently

wc: 725

"Sam! I see you, sweetheart! Wait for the movie to start, until shoving popcorn down the hatch, alright?" Adam scolds jokingly, a smile on his face, as he caught the preschooler red-handed in the kitchen, sitting on the table in the dark.

Still having a mouthful of the snack, Samuel wasn't able to do much except nod awkwardly at being caught elbow-deep into the bowl, and Adam didn't miss the way the boy startled, chuckling.

"Come on, give me that bowl, young man. And this is for your dad, you know he can't have sweets like you and your sister can. We've been over this," he reminded, as the boy, finally with a cleared mouth, whined, trying to reach for the salted popcorn still, huffing when his father just raised it higher in the air, tutting disapprovingly: "You picked the caramel one for yourself, now you have to eat it. Or is that now mine-" "No! Okay, I'm sorry!"

Adam snorted at the instant panicked yell and apologies, and ushered Sammy out of the kitchen, still holding the popcorn dish above the younger ones head. "It's alright, kiddo, no one's mad," he reassures, patting him with his free hand, leisurely trailing into the living room.

The lights were already dimmed, with Mary on the carpeted floor, flipping trough a CD case and taking sips of soda from a glass. A glass she barely managed to put down before getting tackled by her brother from behind, wanting to play with her. The second he made contact, the girl couldn't help but scream in surprise, causing their father's eyes to widen in a short-lived moment of panic, he exclaimed, clapping his hands together to get their attention and putting the large popcorn on the couch.

"Kids! No blood!" Adam reminded, earning two annoyed groans from the kids, as they both sat on the carpet, now having their little fight become verbal rather than physical.

"No fair! He started it!"

"Did not! She did!"

"Nuh-uh! Papa, Sammy's a liar!"

"Says the liar!"

'Christ, here they go again' Adam thought, sitting down with a groan, listening to the kids he so dearly loved argue once more, in voices so high pitched and loud they could give any man a headache.

Luckily, his savior stepped trough the entryway, his hair still a little wet from the shower, and wearing fuzzy pajamas. Sylvester looked at the arguing children and then at his boyfriend with a questioning look, carefully lowering himself onto the couch, leaving his cane nearby.

"Ask them yourselves," Adam muttered, popping a piece of Sylvester's popcorn in his mouth.

And so the catfight began again, as they tried to shift the blame onto the other.

"Dad! Dad, Sammy pushed me over!"

"No! Mary hit me first!"

"Did not!" The girl tried to defend herself against the obvious lie her brother was attempting to craft.

"Did too! And she... uh. She also ate your popcorn, dad! Right papa?" Sammy turned to Adam, completely forgetting that he was the one who caught his son in the act.

Laughing softly, he shook his head, his smile widening: "Sam, baby... You're a bad liar, with an even worse memory."

A beat goes by as the boy processes the words, and he tries to stammer his way out of this blunder, before Sylvester cuts him off with a soft hand on his shoulder.

"I- Uhm, well-"

"Shh.. It's alright. But for that, how about we let your sister pick what we watch today, hm?"

"Yes!" "No!" The kids yell at the same time, and the girl sticks her tongue out mockingly, blowing a raspberry in Samuel's face.

"She's gonna pick something stupid again!"

"Your face is stupid!"

"Kids! Enough," Adam groans loudly, not wanting to listen to more nonsensical yelling, and just relax with his lover in his arms.

"So... Go on, get the disc," Sylvester encouraged, letting himself be spooned by the other, with soft kisses already getting peppered in the crook of his neck.

When the movie started, Sammy laid down on his stomach, next to Mary, who was also on the floor, her soda back in her hand, a bowl of their own, sweet popcorn between them, while the other dish was safely tucked in-between the two adults, one of which was still too busy with his affectionate assault towards his lover.

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my favorite girls <3

day 4: outfit swap

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My brain is thinking about the Serial Killer AU again.

And so this is me humbly requesting for some Mārīte angst after Sammy and Sylvester are killed and her spiral into killing their murder. Please and thank you.

didnt feel like writing the actual murder

wc: 786

The teenager screamed as she jumped upright in bed, covered in cold sweat, breathing heavily, the adrenaline of a nightmare still lingering, as she shook, tears streaming down her face.

Looking at her hands and wiping her eyes quickly, she looked around.

Her room.

She was in her room.

Quickly glancing to the side, she saw the clock read a little past three in the morning. The loud groan escaped her was almost inhuman.

Were she in a more stable mindset, she'd worry about waking her father up, but not like it's possible with how he slept like a log.

But now? Her thoughts were on one thing.

The smell.

The awful, metallic fucking smell.

No, not smell, stench.

The stench of her dad's blood. Of her brother's blood.

Oh, how she felt sick to her stomach, almost throwing up then and there on her sheets, but she forced it down, focusing on the worst offender of them all.

The disgusting, rancid smell of their murderer.

She focused on how it lingered in the air on the crime scene. How it reeked of alcohol - the cheap kind at that.

Mary just knew for a fact that some lowlife drunk had the gall to kill her closest family. She just knew that the authorities brushed her off. Ignored her claims of being able to track him down, being simply brushed off as hysteric and told to go home.

She'll make the officers eat their words. That was a promise she made to herself, as she stood up from the bed, turning on a nightlight, reaching for her backpack, as she begun throwing stuff in.

She'll do it tonight, she decided. A month of the same nightmares every night had dulled her. The constant vision of her concerns and knowledge getting brushed off. She'll show them what happens when she's underestimated.

The little box under her bed finally came in helpful. It stashed a few knives, a can of pepper spray, a novelty lighter and a small revolver, loaded, among other things.

She took the gun almost lovingly, it having belonged to her father. The girl was glad she managed to snag it before the rest of his and her brother's items were purged from the home.

Oh, how sweet it would be to kill her father's murderer using his own old, well loved weapon. She was almost salivating at the opportunity that life seemed to present to her. With gentle hands unfit for the scenario, she placed the gun and ammunition into her bag, before snagging her brother's lighter from the box as well. She might as well make him proud in the process too.

For a moment, she was glad that her mother once disfigured her, because were she still in the possession of her claws, of her canines, she'd be sure she wouldn't be able to hold back, and rip the motherfucker's throat apart with her bare teeth and claw his still-beating heart out of his chest.

She smiled at the image. For the first time in her life, she found herself craving spilled blood, instead of avoiding and hiding from it.

She craved the taste, imagining it being almost as sweet as the revenge she is bound to get for her late father and brother.

Ah, her brother. She could still see him. Hear him. Samuel, ever the morbid one, was egging her on. Telling her to do it. To go. Saying how badly he wanted to see the sight of her absolutely unhinged, merciless. He begged oh-so sweetly for her to avenge him, telling tales of how happy it'd make him. How he wants to see the smoke from a distance, and the sweet melody of screaming from a dying man in a burning home. How only she can make it happen

She almost preened at the "attention".

It felt as if the teenager was in the room with her still. And Mary chalked it up to him actually being there. That the demented lines she was hearing were not her own fantasies, but the instead the dying wishes of a boy she loved. Or, better yet, still loves.

Taking one last look at the room, she zipped the bag and shut off the lights, entering the hallway.

Pulling on her shoes and coat took barely any time, and she was out the door within a minute.

Though, in her haste, it seems as if she neglected to remember how early her dad tended to wake up. She didn't see his lingering figure in the windows as she left, before he decided that this was surely to be bad news, and followed her. Almost like a hunter following his bloodhound to their prey.