#whoops forgot to add scars

[verquilla]

nevada's boykissers

alt version below

[dapperbeetledraws]

"The snow suits you," says Malfoy finally, voice low and different than Harry has ever heard it.

And then he walks inside, leaving Harry bewildered on the steps.

Another fic-based fanart - with a handy link this time ;) I only recently discovered this absolute gem this week and have snuck in time to doodle my take on this part of the fic... The buildup and relationships are all so sweet in this one, with a take on Draco that I also find very fun and hilarious :D

[hyperfixationtimego]

I love you fucked up tv shows I love you gorey movies I love you traumatized characters who perpetuate the cyclical nature of abuse while still managing to remain sympathetic I love you intentionally morally ambiguous media that exists specifically to pose questions about psychology, ethics, and human nature I love you unflinching examinations of what it means to dance the line between acceptable and unacceptable behaviors I love you I love you I love you

[moonrise-illustration]

I finally made a reference sheet for Valko after all these years, can you believe it?

[spirited-splashes]

A little redesign (yes I added more zigzags to his design, and yes: they do indeed look cool)

I always thought it was weird that ford doesn’t have any scaring shown on his knuckles: I mean yeah, sure, it might have healed but I feel like there should be a scar since judging by the drawing ford did of the damage…yeah that should have left a long mark

[gladyzzia]

I draw him smiling too much but I’ll take it as a good sign

[drdt-headcanons]

I'm not a big fan of believing Arturo is hiding some sort of scar underneath his mask (the dev confirmed he took it off to eat the cake in chapter 1 and just placed it back on). So he looks average at best, but thinks he looks unattractive himself. Felicity also had the same thoughts that she was ugly, therefore affecting her self esteem. The Giles parents didn't make it any better, which is what lead Arturo to leave and 'live his own life' while still having that horrible idea that he was ugly burned into his mind. Felicity wasn't so lucky ;-;

:)

[jukela-vau]

lets try this again

i offer... himb 🫴

[moralesmilesanhour]

'cold turkey' but i rewrote it - part two!

summary: the festivities have begun! but you forgot the drinks. whoops. wc: 2k+ a/n: I almost cut this short at like a thousand words but I knew in my SPIRIIITT that I wanted to add more twists and turns to this thing. It's a bit rushed but let's just say I'm very glad I did! if you feel like it: comment your favorite holiday-related dishes :) part one part two

“Traffic was nuts today,” your older sister Alanna sighed as she hauled a carton full of cans of soda over to the kitchen. She looked up and saw Miles, who smiled and gave her a quick wave. “Oh my god, Miles?”

“One and only,” he replied. “Been a minute, ain’t it?”

The woman set the carton down on the floor. “When did you get so big? You're taller than me!”

Miles shrugged. “Growth spurt.”

“Alright then, nice seeing you,” Alanna turned and joined you on the couch with that glint in her eye and smirk that appeared only when she was scheming. “He’s mad cute now, right?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “ ‘Lana, no. Not happening.”

“Come on, I’ve seen the niggas you been with and he’s literally your type–”

“Can you lower your voice? He’s right there!” you yell-whispered. 

You craned your neck to see if Miles was listening. His head was down, all focus seemingly directed towards cooking beans. 

You turned back towards Alanna. “Anyway, he’s Jeff’s kid. I don’t want beef with Jeff or his mama if we break up. They literally live around the corner, do you know how awkward that’s gonna be?”

“So pessimistic,” Alanna’s lips were upturned into a pout. “How you just met him and you already imagining the breakup?”

“I’m being realisti–”

“The beans are done!” Miles’ voice interrupted. 

You called out, “That’s great, thank you so much! I’ll see you later this evening?”

He emerged from the kitchen and began to put on his sneakers. “Yup, lookin’ forward to it,” he stood up and made direct eye contact with you as he smiled. “Good luck with med school.”

With that, Miles grabbed his jacket off of the hook by the entrance, and left.

Your sister watched the door shut behind him with a satisfied grin. “He likes you.”

“No he don’t,” you retorted, keeping your eyes glued to your socks. “You want him to like me.”

The image of fluttering lashes and the scar on his cheek returned to you. How Alanna could tell even without her knowing about that little encounter was a mystery.

“Well, either way, do what you want,” she rose from the couch with a sigh of resignation. “I’m just saying he seems sweet. Now, help me decorate, and I’ll let you make the playlist after.”

You perked up at the thought of having DJ privileges and hopped to your feet. “You got it!”

-

Only half an hour had passed since relatives and family friends began trickling in, but you were already exhausted. One more inescapable hug and barrage of questioning, and you swore you’d have a breakdown. 

Ding dong!

“I’ll get it!” you announced, narrowly escaping being accosted by one of your aunts as you made a beeline for the door.

It was Miles again, this time with company.

“Welcome back,” you greeted Miles and stepped back to open the door wider. “Hey Mr. and Mrs. Morales!”

“Y/N! It’s been so long, tú eres tan guapa!” Rio Morales briefly took both of your hands in hers before entering, tugging Miles along with her.

Jefferson Morales was the last to go inside. His warm smile was a stark contrast to his wide, imposing frame. “I see Miles didn’t burn your kitchen down,” he laughed heartily. “He wasn’t too much trouble?”

Not in the way you were expecting.

You shook her head politely, “No, not at all! He even helped me finish dinner.”

Jefferson’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well, that’s good to hear. We really appreciate the invite.”

“No problem,” you nodded as you shut the door.

“Y/N!” Alanna rushed up to you not a moment later, looking mildly panicked. “Do you remember where you put the drinks? The alcoholic ones, I mean.”

Your eyes widened. “Fuck, I think I forgot to buy them.”

“...Now, your mother was going to nursing school at the time, so she had to…”

Jefferson’s deep voice carried over the music, catching Alanna’s attention. He stood near the tin of mac and cheese telling a story that–judging by the look on Miles’ face–he had told several times before.

That same smirk from before spread across her lips. ‘Do what you want’, sure, but a little helpful push wouldn’t hurt.

“Miles, do you wanna help out Y/N again? She forgot to go out and buy drinks.”

He perked up, relief written all over his face. “Yeah, it’s no problem! I’ll drive her.”

You narrowed your eyes at your sister, but didn’t push back. “That’s cool with me. I’ll go get my sweater.”

-

You squeezed your fingers nervously as Miles turned the key and brought the car roaring to life. 

What could you possibly say to him? ‘Hey, so we almost kissed earlier. Thoughts on that?’ 

“What kinda drinks y’all need?” his voice ripped you away from your thoughts as he pulled onto the road. 

You didn’t answer, your eyes fixated on the motion of his hands spinning the wheel.

“Y/N?”

You blinked.

“Huh?”

“What kind of drinks are we looking for?”

“Oh, um, wine and cider and shit,” you waved a hand in the air, “Stuff that goes with turkey.”

“Cool.”

The ride was quiet, largely because you were busy racking your brain trying to think of something–anything–to fill the silence with. You’d already asked about school, and you knew Miles’ parents. But what about him?

He stopped at a red light, drumming his fingers on the wheel.

“So what do you do, like, outside of school?”

You winced. Small talk was not your forte.

Miles didn’t seem to mind though, appearing deep in thought before he answered, “I draw, when I got the time. Sing a little on the side.”

“I believe you. You look like you have a nice voice.”

An impish smile played on his lips. “Is that your way of saying I’m cute?”

“I…” the words were trapped in your throat. Part of you didn’t want to tell him the truth outright, but he was smiling at you and the sparkle in his eyes made you feel funny. 

“Maybe. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So there’s a low, but non-zero chance.”

You snorted, “Alright, physics major. The light’s green.”

“Oh, shit. Thanks.” Miles focused his attention back onto the road and continued driving.

You didn’t say anything more for the remainder of the ride, but he caught you staring at him every now and then through the rear view mirror, curiosity written on your face.

Soon enough, he pulled over in front of the supermarket.

“Think you’ll find ‘stuff that goes with turkey’ in here?”

“I hope so,” you laughed, unbuckling your seat belt, “My sister’s gonna put me in the dirt if I don’t.”

“Well, good luck!”

Miles unlocked the door, and you set out on your mission.

Luckily, it only took you about twenty minutes to locate a bottle of moscato and some hard apple cider. Just as he saw you emerge from the double doors, though, a familiar buzzing in the back of his head tipped him off.

Really? On Thanksgiving?

A man wearing an inconspicuous black ski mask and hoodie stood waiting by the entrance, ready to strike. 

“Yo, empty your pocke–”

Miles swung into action the moment he spotted the gleam of a firearm.

You yelped as a string of white web shot out from seemingly nowhere and yanked the gun from your assailant’s hands. 

“It’s the holidays! C’mon, man!” 

“Spider-Man?” Your jaw dropped at the sight of the masked hero. 

He was perched on top of a low building right next to the supermarket, only his white eyes and the bright red streaks lining his suit visible in the pitch-black of night.

“At your service, ma’am!” 

With a quick salute, he was gone as suddenly as he’d appeared. Like, literally gone. You didn’t see him leave.

You let out a deep exhale and made your way back to Miles’ car, but you couldn’t see him in the window. A pit began to form in your stomach, until a voice made you jump.

“Hey, you alright?”

It was Miles, who had somehow appeared at your side without a sound. He was out of breath, leaning his elbow on the side of the vehicle for support.

Your eyes narrowed. “I’m…fine. Are you okay? Where’d you go?”

“Bathroom,” he lied. He pointed towards the bags you were holding. “Need help with those?”

You handed them over without a second thought. “Definitely. You know this nigga almost robbed me outside the store just now? Then, right as he’s about to pull a gun on me, guess who shows up?”

Miles grinned knowingly. “Spider-Man?”

“Showed up quick as hell! Even on Thanksgiving, can you imagine?”

“Crazy.”

He opened the door to the passenger’s side for you to get in. 

“Thanks.”

Miles did a slight bow, allowing you to catch a flash of red and black peeking out from beneath his jacket. You had assumed that he was wearing a turtleneck at first, but upon closer inspection–

“At your service,” he said with a grin before making his way over to the driver’s seat.

As you shut the door, Spider-Man’s voice returned to you.

At your service, ma’am.

The rest of the way home, you replayed both sentences in your head, alternating between the two and replaying the night’s events.

Miles had just so happened to reappear mere seconds after Spider-Man had said the words. They even shared an accent. You considered the absurd possibility for a moment; the police chief’s son being the masked vigilante would make quite the headline, almost poetic in its irony. 

Too poetic.

But just as you were about to let it go, Miles went over a speedbump, causing a jolt that made something begin to slip out from his jacket’s right pocket.

Black, red and white.

You pondered how to broach the subject once he pulled up in front of your house, when a lightbulb went off in your head.

Reaching over to the red button that released your seatbelt, you pressed it halfway, over and over again.

“Miles, I think my seatbelt’s stuck. Help me out?”

Miles removed his own with a click. “Sure, lemme see.”

He leaned over and reached the passenger’s seat with ease. His breath hit the side of your neck as he moved closer, making your heart rate quicken, but you maintained focus.

What mattered was that he was in close quarters. You had to see the suit.

“Got it,” Miles said once he released your not-actually-stuck seatbelt. “You’re free–”

Before he could move any further, you grabbed the collar of his jacket and unzipped it halfway.

“I knew it!”

The look of sheer terror on Miles’ face sealed the deal. Here was Spider-Man, in all of his glory.

“Are you…gonna…tell anyone?” 

His voice was hushed as he spoke. Almost small. You looked into those round, glassy eyes and felt a wave of guilt. 

“I–no, of course not,” you shook your head. “I just…I needed to be sure.”

He relaxed, some of the humor returning to his face. “And now that you’re sure?”

A cheeky grin spread across your lips.

“I guess I should thank you.”

You tugged at his collar one more time and brought his lips crashing against yours.

After getting over the initial surprise, Miles brought a hand up to caress one side of your face and deepen the kiss. Your other hand reached up and brushed the cold metal of one of his stud earrings before you snaked your arm around his neck.

Miles was the first to pull away, zipping his jacket back up.

“I don’t think I can stay in this position for that long,” he smiled. “We gotta get back inside with these drinks.”

You sighed, head still pounding with adrenaline. “You’re right, let’s get outta here.”

By the time you made it up the steps, Alanna was already holding the door open. She gave your face a good once-over and stifled a laugh.

“Did you two have fun on your little adventure?”

You took one of the bags from Miles and held it up like a trophy. “Yup, mission accomplished.”

“That’s not what I meant, baby,” she gestured towards her lips and mouthed “your lip gloss.”

Your eyes widened as she snickered, and let the two of you in. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll fix it in the bathroom. Hurry up!”

A few makeup wipes and a liner touch-up later, you emerged from the bathroom just in time for dinner.

Out of all the chairs strewn about the living room, you ended up seated between Miles and Jefferson. The former kept quiet, save for the occasional joke or wink thrown in your direction. Jefferson kept inquiring about your studies, which would then bounce back to Miles’ studies, which Miles then would somehow deflect back to you. Any and all conversation with Jeff became awkward, considering you had just made out with his son.

The party ending felt like a weight lifted off of your shoulders.

You stood at the entrance, waving goodbye to the steady stream of guests as their conversations stretched on, even from their cars. The Morales family were the last to leave.

After his parents went down the steps, Miles stopped in front of the door.

“Hey,” he smiled and tilted his head.

“Hey. You ready to go? I’m not letting you stay the night,” you teased.

“Wasn’t planning to, I promise. I just wanted to ask…” 

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “When are you goin’ back to campus?”

“Monday.”

Miles winced, “Damn.”

“I know, I literally gotta start packing to-night! It’s a nightmare!”

“In that case,” he took out his phone, and held it out to you gingerly. “Can we keep in touch?”

You accepted the offer, rapidly entering your digits and saving them under your name. “Worried about me spilling your secret identity?”

“Absolutely. I gotta keep an eye on you from now on. Like witness protection, but backwards–”

“Miles, vamos!” Rio called out from a distance.

“I’m coming, mami!” he replied before turning back to you. “See you winter break?”

You planted a kiss on his cheek. “Maybe. Non-zero chance.”

"I'll take it."

[66sharkteeth]

Weekly thoughts! Ep 171

Oh man, this one hurt haha. I'll have you know, as much I tease the 14 Desmond enjoyers, I DID tear up writing and storyboarding this ep.

This ep was pretty straight forward and I don't think it leaves me with too much to say (whoops, I think I said last week I'd have a lot of thoughts on this ep?). Desmond's main character arc was his self-loathing about being a blank. I've been pretty open about writing this series from a queer perspective, and in that sense, I've always viewed Desmond as representation for..... I dunno, Catholic guilt or something haha. You know, the kids who were raised to hate what they are and try as much as they can to not be themselves because they've been told its wrong. I'm happy I got to write him fully overcoming that and learning to love himself, even if it was a really tragic scenario.

Other than that, just a couple of notes addressing a few questions/comments.

Shnee's still just in the building. Ik a few people asked and I really only addressed it in little "like the episode" end tag. Fun fact, he originally was in this entire scene, and I even drew him at first in group shot at the end of 167, but then he just wasn't in frame for the next couple eps, and by the time I had to draw ep 170, I just forgot he was there and left him out of a bunch of wide shots... So it was easier to just go erase him from the group shot in 167 and add that little note about him being inside than add him to all the wide shots of 170 LOL

Claude's extra scars at the end of the ep...

completely an artist error. i have his asset sheet set up so i can switch out the scars depending on what angle the asset is facing, and i just accidentally turned them both on... Normally an error I'd actually fix since it's the final panel of the episode, but my episode buffer has never been so low so i cannot give myself any extra work rn or i'll actually implode into a black hole. :)

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 16: Iron Shackles

Whoops! I forgot to post for a few months again...super long chapter this time, tho! Masterlist

As bright neon cast through your window and into your closed eyes, you couldn’t help but grumble. A truly rude awakening, only worsened as the early-winter cold seeped through your blankets and into your bones, your still-sleeping mind mourning the peaceful slumber you'd been experiencing just moments ago. But there was still hope; a nearby heat source, just to your side. You turned and curled into the warm body next to you, nuzzling your nose into the crook of the person’s neck. In response, a low growl is emitted from the body. “You’re cold…”

“And you’re nice and warm…” You ignored his complaints, tightening your arm around Vander as you cuddled in closer under your patchwork quilt. Your naked bodies seemed to meld together, you sapping his excess warmth in an attempt to fend off the creeping chill. However, as your mind continued to slowly wake up, you remembered that if the neon lights had found their way into your window, that meant it was nearing dusk, and dusk meant that Benzo and Silco would be home soon from work.

Just a couple of moments longer…

Vander’s breathing regulated once more, a low snore coming from his partially open lips, and you giggled a little to yourself at the sound. Feeling his chest rise and fall under you, your fingers began to run up and down his pectorals, combing through his chest hair as you blindly traced the area where you knew one of his tattoos (a hound skull) lay. Even though he needed a shower from your earlier activities, his natural pleasant scent of musk and smoke made you content. A reminder of him. As you placed a small kiss on his jawline, his arm instinctively tightened its hold around you. Damn this man.

After another selfish moment of indulging yourself with cuddles, you began to rouse your body. Your muscles ached as they were hit with the wave of cold, and your joints complained as you moved to stand. Stretching, you tried your best to ease the stiffness and aching feelings, and you thankfully got a couple of ‘pops’ from your joints, but much of the soreness remained. The thrills of adulthood, you supposed.

“Nice bum.” You could hear Vander’s smile even before looking back at him. He patted the spot next to him, the old grey sheets just as much patchwork as the quilt atop it. “You should bring it back here.”

Picking up what you knew to be his shirt, you handed it to him. “We need to get up. You need a shower and I need to start on dinner before Benzo and Silco get home.” You emphasize the guy’s names, hopefully reminding him why there was a certain need for urgency. But he just rolls onto his back, propping his arms under his head.

“You could always join me in the shower..? Save on water and all that, plus you get all this glorious body heat you love so much?” He smirked, and you rolled your eyes. To add insult to injury, you noticed the way he tensed his muscles, showing off the pure muscle that lay under that calloused, tanned skin. Emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders, the bulk of his biceps, his pectorals, his abs. The trick worked for a moment, feeling a familiar heat rise into your ears as your eyes remained trapped on his torso, tracing over every line and scar with detail. But as he began to flex his pecs, bouncing them one at a time, you shook your head in exasperation and began rifling through your drawers trying to find a clean pair of underwear and a semi-clean sports bra. Vander laughed loudly, filling the room with the warmness of his laughter.

“I can’t promise anything fancy for dinner tonight, but I figure we’ll get more food afterwards when we get post-fight drinks anyways.” You explain as you search, ignoring your lover’s immaturity. “Benzo’s got the bill tonight, it’s his turn.”

“Oi. Pretty, naked lady.”

Looking over your shoulder, you find Vander looking back at you. He still hasn’t put on his shirt, but he has crawled over to the other side of the bed so he’s now sitting closer to you, feet planted on your cluttered floor. He’s got an eyebrow raised, and your motions still as you fully turn to face him. His eyes don’t leave yours. “I love you.”

Damn this man, indeed. Damn him and the butterflies he sets free in your stomach.

Taking the single step it takes to get from your dresser to your bed, you sidle back up into Vander’s heat. He welcomes you happily, hands enveloping your waist and lightly pulling you into him. You cup either side of his jaw. This time his eyes do leave yours, taking just a fraction of a second to scan down your body. But they’re back up, holding your gaze before you can say anything. You lean down ever so slightly to take his lips into yours, and you feel his hands tighten around you. It’s a soft kiss, tender; just a simple close-mouthed kiss, but you try ever so hard to press all your feelings into it.

As you pull away, you press one more little peck to his lips. “I love you too.”

He seems content with this, grey eyes sparkling against the neon from outside. “I think some of your clothes are in one of the baskets in the hall.” Kissing him quickly one more time, you thank him before rushing out your door to rifle through the several baskets of forgotten and unfolded, but clean laundry. Amid your digging around, you come across two solid boxing gloves; black, patched in a few places but more evident was the distinct painting of a brown hound on each mitt.

“Oi, Van.” You peek back into your room to see Vander finally standing, stretching. You raise your hands, showing him the mitts and his face immediately breaks out into a toothy grin.

“There they are!!!” He exclaims, speed-walking over and taking the mitts into his own hands. He feels over the worn leather like he’s worshipping them, thumb tracing over the hound printing, matching his tattoo, as if he’s greeting an old friend. Those gloves had been a gift from Mikael on his eighteenth birthday when Vander’s father finally came around and approved of the fights as a way of making more money outside of the mines. “I’ve been looking for these for weeks! Thought someone had pinched them at the ring.”

“They could use some care.” You point to a new rip in one of the seams, your eyes carefully taking note of the gloves. You’d seen them a thousand times over the years, even watched him do repairs on them in the past. But for some reason, there and now, seeing them…your mind began to turn with ideas. “You know…you wouldn’t need to sew them nearly as much if they were metal. Could do some serious damage too, instead of padding your punches. Maybe some cast iron or titanium, y’know, something solid. Something to use in a real fight."

Vander’s eyes only look up for a moment, still intensely focused on the gloves in his hands as he begins to slide them on, stretching his fingers to see that they still fit as perfectly as ever. They do. “Metal’d hurt my hands more, wouldn’t it?”

Your mind is still in engineering mode before you finally turn your attention back to the basket of clothes.

You’ve barely been able to put on some clothes and start throwing together some food when the guys shamble into your shared home, feet heavy against the creaking hardwood floors but chatting casually amongst each other.

“We’re home!” Benzo calls, louder than he needs to.

“How was work?” You ask, barely looking up from the canned peas you were trying to open. They looked exhausted, both with dark circles weighing down their faces. Both had been working the mines today, so were already in fairly tattered clothes, but also displayed the new signs of a long day’s worth of hard work. A thick layer of grime, sweat, and coal dust coated their entire bodies.

Silco grumbled as he kicked off his boots, the thick rubber soles falling to the floor with a loud ‘thunk’. “Fucking awful, as per usual down in that shithole.” He continues on one of his normal tirades about the mines. The dirtbag supervisors, the shitty conditions, the kids sent there who are forced to work just as the three of them had. Benzo only hummed in agreement as he took off his own work shirt and sat at the dinner table, exhaustion evident in his face. But when a rasping cough left Benzo's chest, the sick sound of years' worth of smoke and chemicals exiting his lungs, there was a long pause. Cautious hesitation as the tell-tale miner's cough lingered like a bad omen in the apartment. But after a moment, the three friends resumed casually, trying to ignore the heavy feelings that seemed to consume all their hearts.

“When’s the next mine shift you’ve got, anyways Silco?” You ask, voice cracking ever so slightly. Benzo notices, and sends you a look but you can’t tell if it’s out of guilt, shame or apology.

“Day after tomorrow.” He shrugs, mind obviously only half-interested in the conversation as he shies away from the room. His eyes refuse to meet Benzo, who now only stares down at the wood grain of the table. “I’ve got a messenger shift in the morning, then I’ve got that job at the docks again.”

“Right…” You nod, just as absent-mindedly.

Just as you’re finishing up your concoction of stew, putting together anything in the pantry that would work, Vander stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped securely around his waist. Water droplets fall from his soft brown curls, rolling over his cheekbones before falling onto his broad, exposed chest.

“You two look like shit.” Vander’s booming voice laughed. “As per usual.”

“Yeah, laugh it up, big guy.” Silco rolled his eyes, reaching into their shared room to grab his own towel. “See how you look after your fight tonight.”

Benzo drudgingly reaches into his pocket, pulling out his notebook and flipping open to the most recent page. “Speaking of, I checked in today, the odds tonight are in Vander’s favour for his fight, but for Min's…”

“She’s fighting Sevika, who’s two weight classes above her. Not to mention she, like, never wins against her.” Silco noted. “So yeah, I can believe that the bets against her are, to say, not great.”

You feel a small wave of anxiety hit you. “Thanks for the vote of confidence…”

“That’s the point of the underdog, ain’t it?” Vander asks, crossing the apartment to slide in next to you just as you begin spooning bowls. He grabs a bowl from your hands, fingers lingering for just a millisecond longer than needed as they meet. “Coming out on top, despite the odds, and racking in that good money.”

The feeling that swelled up in your chest was nothing short of exhilarating. All but buzzing, and you couldn’t even try to hide the grin that began to break out onto your lips, even with Silco and Benzo around. Memories of your past, long nights of fights where Vander would reprimand you for taking risks and fighting above your class, all feeling just a little farther away now. Now fueled by new-found confidence, your shoulders squared as you quickly filled three other bowls. “It’s still important to side with caution, though.” You nod. “Fight smart, play to my strengths.”

“Atta girl.” He applauds, winking at you before walking away. In your excitement, you don’t notice the cold, bitter look in Silco’s eyes before he ducks into the bathroom but you do hear him shut the door harder than needed, the rusted hinge popping slightly at the force. His reaction catches Vander’s attention more than yours though, and his eyes still on the door for a moment. You set a bowl in front of Benzo, who had been all but ignorant of the conversation, looking over his notebook still.

“I’ve got word on a job top-side in two nights time, could be a decent payout.” He explained, rubbing his face tiredly. You take his book out of his hands, pocketing it as you hand him a spoon instead.

“Benz, you’re exhausted.” You explain. “Quit working for two seconds and eat dinner before we have to drag your ugly mug to see the doc, aye?” For a moment, he looks like he’s about to fight you on this, but he eventually sighs and nods, grabbing the spoon.

***

The chime of the bell is a shrill sound, screeching over the cheers from the audience. They all sounded faded to you as you raised your fists again, ignoring the pulsing pain emanating from your right ass cheek. The dreaded score floating around stubbornly in your mind.

Sevika: 1

Minerva: 0

Your eyes hardened on the woman in front of you, her smirk showing off her crooked teeth. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was tied in a loose ponytail with strands falling out to her face.

“It's no fun fighting you without your magic, Minerva!” She called out. “Like fighting half a woman.”

You huffed out an empty laugh, hopping up on the balls of your feet. “What can I say, you could use the handicap advantage.”

Her smirk deepens, and she steadies for a moment. Tell-tale sign. She pauses, crouches, then explodes; lunging herself at you with her left arm curling upwards in a scythe-like motion. You side-step her body, using the height difference to your advantage as you duck under her arm only to bounce back up on the other side. She stops short, heavier momentum making her slower as she whirls around back at you. Same move, a swing of her arm, you sidestep and duck. But she’s not dumb, she knows you’re evasive manouvers and her hand opens over you. Before you have time to react, she’s grabbed your face and is throwing you back into the ropes.

Crap.

You bounce off the rubber barriers, trying to steady yourself you turn on your heel. But the loss of balance throws off your normally very fluid motions. You're distracted. She sees this, it’s what she banks on, and she’s already lunging. This time, her punch lands, and next thing you know your already-crooked nose flashes with pain as it directly connects with her padded fists.

Ouch

You don’t quite lose balance but are just barely able to duck under her. She pulls back again, but you're able to slide under her and dodge to the other side of the ring. You can already feel the damage to your cartilage, the smarting only barely dulled by your adrenaline as the familiar coppery scent of blood fills your nose. You’re definitely going to have a black eye in the morning. Sevika uses the moment to right herself too, straightening her shoulders as she faces you again. You stare at her dead-on.

Think Minerva. What is her body language saying?

She swarms you again, using her size to trap you into the corner. But your fist goes up before she meets you, swinging up and connecting square with her jaw. It’s not a dead-on hit, but it’s enough to throw off her heavy-fighter attack and provides just enough time to swing out of her way, behind her so you land an elbow to her left kidney. She stumbles forward, and you speed back towards her as her back faces you. Grappling her shoulder, you manage to land a couple more hits before she steadies herself enough to shove you off. She throws you like you weigh next to nothing, but she’s been stunned so you manage to catch yourself and fall only a couple of feet away. You land, semi-steadily, on your knee as your hand slides back to catch your fall. A drop of blood falls from your nose and onto the ring below, the surface already covered in several layers of dried crimson.

One of Sevika’s knees gives out, probably from the jab to her kidney, and she needs to steady herself before she can do anything else. But once she’s facing you again, you’re pushing off on the ball of your foot and slamming your knee into the front of her face. There's a definite 'crack' from her nose, and you feel something shift under your knee just as she crumples down to the floor.

The ref is running in to separate the two of you, but you’re already backing off, letting him count. 1…2…3…She’s still down.

His whistle blows. The round is over.

Your point.

You’re howling in victory, fist up in the air as the audience reacts. Mostly in loud groans, unhappy patrons who bet against you. Their loss, you’re making fucking bank tonight.

Set aside from the groans are the cries of excitement, and you make out your boys’ faces in the back. Benzo and Vander are howling in cheers, as is Niya who’s got one of Benzo’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. Even Silco’s giving you a round of applause. Next to him, you spot Felicia and Connol, with little Violet in her father’s arms. She's got a pair of fluffy earmuffs over her ears, poking out from the mop of bright pink hair. When you meet eyes with the young girl, she cheers louder, arms up in the air and the biggest, cutest smile on her face.

Oh yeah, you think, this fight is yours.

After a few minutes of rest time, the ref is calling for the next round and you immediately turn to face Sevika again. She’s already standing, tightening the wrist of her gloves with her teeth. She doesn’t look mad, or even disappointed. In fact, she’s smiling.

“Lucky shot, islander.” She barks to you. It’s tough talk, but you see the adrenaline in her eyes. You two have been sparring for years, two of the most well-known female fighters in the Underground's league despite being of completely different weight classes and specializations. She was just as loyal to the revolution as you were, had been to just as many rallies, and had even once started a small strike in the mines a couple of years ago; you were friends. She knew this was a victory for you, and she was proud of you. “Let’s see you try that again without dodging like a pussy this time, yeah?”

You wipe at your nose, smearing the partially dried blood onto your hand wrappings. “Depends, you going to stop fighting like a rhino and actually switch it up on me?”

She chuckles, but only for a moment. She lunges faster this time, which surprises you. But you’re too hyped up on adrenaline and courage from your win, you stay your ground and ball your fists. You try for another uppercut. Wrong choice. She latches onto your arm, grabbing ahold of it from under her and immediately throwing you to the ground.

Okay, not your smartest moment.

You try and scramble up, try and get the floor back under your feet, but she’s on you before you can. Straddling your chest, fists already coming down. She cracks your face, connecting to your cheekbone. Another, the other side, this time your jaw. Your mind is already getting a little dizzy, but you manage to buck your hips up, knocking her off balance just enough to squeeze your knees out from under her and tucking them into your chest. Balls of your feet to her chest, kick, push. It takes a couple tries, but she’s eventually knocked off you and you spring back, a little wobbly, onto your feet. Thankfully, it takes her longer to stand than it takes you, and you're able to deliver your kneecap swiftly to her nose. She dodges, making you hit her temple instead. Less effective, but still disorients her a little. But it also knocks you off balance, your mind still reeling from her last attack, and you have to stumble before you can right yourself properly. She stands back up.

“Very sloppy, ‘nerva!” She calls, still smirking but this time not out of kindness. “Here I thought you were the smart one.”

You brush off the insult, it’s mostly for show anyway, and plant your feet more firmly in place. Let’s try this again, shall we?

She’s too close to properly lunge at you, but her fist still comes down in that arching strike. You swing your arm out, momentum stopping her attack if just barely. She’s taller than you, but you’re still able to hook your arm around hers, pinning it to your side as you punch back up, this time your uppercut actually landing. She steps back, but your firm footing keeps you both right there. You hit her again, this time a hook to her eye, then another. Landing hits as fast as you can before elbowing her in the jaw and letting go of her arm. She stumbles back, suddenly falling victim to her own gravity and the force of your hit. She’s holding her jaw, which will likely bruise quite well. You look forward to poking that bruise later tonight at the bar.

“Better for you, Sev?” You chime over the screaming crowd. Your head is still ringing, and that tangy copper aroma is thick in your nose and mouth. But you’re still standing. You go to lunge at her this time, maybe even jump at her if you can get the leverage. But something’s wrong. Something changes in the air.

A familiar vibration, your magic picking up on a metallic thrum. Thick, deep, like a low bass note. It doesn’t belong here, it’s not like any of the metal vibrations you feel around the Underground. But you know that you’ve worked on it in the past, you know its inner workings. You’ve felt it move under your touch.

On the factory floor.

When you fight enforcers.

Their muskets.

It clicks in your mind. Exactly what Morichi’s factory produced, exactly what the metal you were working with was being used for.

And you could feel them around you. Like mosquitoes.

Your mouth is calling out before your mind is even aware your lips are moving.

“Enforcers!”

It’s too late. They’re already storming into the building, the doors of the arena slamming open. A small army of enforcers, fully armed, swarm into the space. Their guns are out, pointing around the once-cheering crowds. People begin to scream, many people running every which way towards various exits. Other people, including you, Sevika, and the guys are running up towards the guards. Vander’s already got one, slamming his bare fist into the guy’s metal mask hard enough that with a loud ‘thwunk’, the guy collapses. Similar to Sevika, who hops the ropes to slam her full bodyweight onto one enforcer in particular, grabbing another one to slam his head into the exterior wall of the ring. You’re about to hop down yourself when a flash of pink catches your eye, and you zero in on one enforcer in particular who has his gun pointed straight at Connol, who’s shielding his wife and daughter, bare-fisted and staring the officer down.

You don’t even think twice. Dashing toward them, hand out, you latch your magic onto that Enforcer’s gun and snatch it over to you. The moment it lands into your hands your over the ropes and down next to Connol, slamming the butt of the rifle straight into the Enforcer’s shoulder. Red fills the corners of your vision as you use your free hand to latch onto the guy’s chest plate, lifting him with ease and flinging him across the room like a ragdoll. You shove the gun into Connol’s empty hands, grabbing hold of another officer’s nearby, grabbing the firearm for yourself. You’re about to aim it when the air shatters like glass, a shot rings through the arena. Immediately, the entire space goes from pure mayhem to dead silent, enough to hear your own heart beating, thudding like it wanted to spring out of your chest.

The whole room freezes as Captain Grayson walks in through the busted door, pistol held high with a thin trail of smoke emitting out of the barrel.

You could drown in the silence of that room it was so heavy. The whole world seemed to stand still as all eyes fell on the female chief, not a single soul of the Underground even dared to breathe as she lowered her gun and holstered it. Then she spoke, her voice projected loud enough that it seemed to echo like the bullet from her gun.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Fissures,” She announces, “apologies for the interruption.” Her eyes are searching, scanning the crowds. Your eyes dart to your friends, Silco’s got a knife held up against the throat of the Enforcer he has pinned up against the stands, and Vander’s got one under each arm, and another under his boot. But Benzo’s openly holding his side as he stands at the receiving end of one of the damned metal barrels. You’re too busy focusing on them, and on that frequency that the metal guns give off, that you don’t even notice when Grayson’s eyes land on you. She points. 

“Her.”

One of the Enforcers behind you grabs your arm, making you drop the gun. Immediately, you fight back, landing your elbow to his helm. But it only knocks him back an inch. You turn and grab his chest plate like you had the other guy, but before you can throw him, one of his comrades manages to swat you, pushing you onto the floor, barely being able to catch yourself on your hands. You hear a couple of people shout out your name before you feel a heavy metal leg pressing down onto your back, pinning you to the ground. They move, straddling your body and catching your hands, pinning them uncomfortably behind you. You can’t move them. No hands, no magic. Shit.

“Let me g-!” You scream, but the person on top of you grabs your head and slams it into the hard concrete. The world gets a lot more dizzy.

“Minerva, you’re being arrested for the physical assault and attempted murder of Officer Grant Thompson-” “Who?!” You’re ignored, and you feel the cold metal of handcuffs being shackled onto your wrists. “You will be taken into police custody until an official preliminary decision is made by the council…” He goes on for a while, but your mind is spinning too quickly to listen to him clearly. Heavy boots walk towards you, and you’re barely able to strain your eyes up enough to see Grayson towering up over you. She hands something to the man on top of you, it looks like a roll of thick tape.

“Wrap her hands. She can’t be able to move them.”

The officer only pulls you up once your hands are completely mummified in the thick, sticky material. Even if your head was clear enough for you to focus on your magic, your hands were literally stuck together. Around you, everyone; Vander, Benzo, Silco, even Sevika, Connol, and Felicia. All of them are held at gunpoint as they try and wrestle towards you. Violet’s crying out in loud sobs. Your eyes meet Vander’s, and you swear you’ve never seen his eyes so full of rage. You want to call out to him, but Grayson’s hands grab your jaw and force your head to face her.

“I promised you there would be consequences to your actions.”

You can’t think of what to say. Your head hurts too much. So you spit on her boots, a giant glob of saliva and blood. She stares down at it, apathetically, then waves her hand. The man tightly holding your cuffs pushes you towards the door. You try and fight back, stumbling up to him with a snarl, but he lands a firm right hook to your face, which sends you collapsing onto the ground. Distantly, you hear Vander’s voice call out to you again.

Too bad you couldn’t have dodged him like Sevika.

You’re forced to your feet again, and this time all but carried out the door. You can't move enough to fight back and aren't really even sure which direction you're heading. Everything is so woozy... As you descend into the darkness of the night, you hear Grayson’s voice address the crowds once more.

“Apologies again for the interruption. You all have a good night.

[captain039]

The predator grounds

Vilkas x reader

Warnings: Forced heats/ruts, gore, eventual smut, claiming, violence, AOB, Skyrim things, angst, intimacy

There’s nothing but sweet silence. You figure everyone’s either sleeping still or out and Farkas forgot to wake you up with his horrid singing. Usually the bed isn’t this cold, hell Jorrvaskr seems to be warmed everywhere even in winter, now though…

There’s a breeze over your body, wind, how in the divines is there wind inside?

“Wake up” you think you dream it the sound of Kodlaks voice echoing in your mind before it shouts again.

“WAKE UP!” You jolt upwards the sounds spilling in, your surroundings making you reach for your sword. You don’t recognise this place, no place in Skyrim has sky’s this eerie and green hued, the moon so full and big you could touch it. The wind makes you shiver, the scents on the wind make your nose scrunch. You stare at the on going forest in front of you, the eerie darkness the sounds of critters and howls. You check yourself for wounds and find none, surely you didn’t die in your sleep and Hircine has claimed you. You are healthy, were maybe.

“Arise” you freeze at the deep voice and look to the horizon on your right in the clearing. There he stands the father of beasts himself.

“Hircine” you mutter frowning as a butterfly goes by you.

“Your pack is here, join them” he gestures to the forest in front of you. Your bones begin to crack, your skin falls off to let fur come through. You break off your cry with a howl and take off into the woods. There’s warmth flooding you, the need for the hunt filling you and you chase those familiar smells of your pack. When you get there though it isn’t your pack, there’s a dead woman on the ground, her clothes are torn, her neck bitten and bleeding and the scent of an alpha on her body. You hear a laugh, evil and maniacal before a booming voice echos over the land.

“THIS IS MY REALM” you look to the sky an echoing book sounding out but nothing happening.

“Whoops” another voice echos in giggles, older and high pitched. Your body changes again the pain flaring as you end on your knees shaking and panting.

“I’m sorry my child” you hear in your mind as a searing pain hits your back. It feels like a hot metal against skin and you let out a small sob.

You take a moment to gather yourself, you’re sweating a lot, your thighs feel sticky. You crawl over to the woman wincing at the claw marks on her body. The scent of a wild alpha in rut sticking to her form. You hear soft growls behind you and turn reaching for your sword that isn’t there. You see the werewolf in front of you, dark brown fur, blue eyes a scar over the left eyebrow.

“Vilkas?” You question as he begins to change back groans leaving his lips as he kneels naked on the ground. He cries out too and you rush over to him seeing the mark on his back, a mark of Hircine. You lay a hand on his back instantly regretting it at the sharp look he gives you along with the tingling feeling going up your arm. You shudder at the intense gaze of the alpha and back away a little.

“Have you seen anyone else?” You ask covering yourself with your arms and hands awkwardly as the alpha adverts his eyes. You take a small breath, body shuddering at the scent of Vilkas, alpha in rut. Gods he smells divine.

“Just that poor soul” you say as he looks to the dead woman.

“What’s happening?” He asks and you struggle with an answer.

“I don’t know, I heard Hircine, saw him, then I was forced to change and came here saying you and the rest of the pack were here” you explain trying to keep your eyes off the naked alpha before you.

“Where’s my brother?” He mutters looking out to the never ending forest around you.

“I don’t know I woke up a few moments ago” you explain body shaking.

“Probably best” he whispers.

“Where are we?” He adds.

“I don’t know Vilkas!” You don’t mean to snap at him, but your body feels in overtime.

“It’s alright pup” he says in that ever calm voice of his and you want to punch him.

“I am not a pup, neither is any of this alright do not lie to me” you take a small breath turning away from the alpha and back to the woman. You feel bad for what you’re about to do, but she has clothes on, clothes that should fit you but probably not Vilkas. You say a small prayer before you take her shirt and pants, she still has her undergarments thankfully. You close her eyes giving a small bow of your head before you hear another howl. It isn’t familiar and it has you inching back to the safety of your shield brother. You hear footsteps and both you and Vilkas are on high alert before you spot a familiar shape. Farkas still has his clothes on apparently not being forced to shift like you or Vilkas.

“Brother!” He calls before his eyes turn to yours. The look Farkas gives you isn’t one you’re used to from him, the burning hunger, the smell of his rut.

“Stay there!” Vilkas growls, up and in front of you making you frown.

“Vilkas-“ you go to say but he hushes you quickly.

“Do not come closer, I-“ Vilkas visibly shakes, the kind of shake you give when your wolf is just under your skin. There’s a growl from Farkas not a playful growl, a challenge growl. He’s shifting quickly as is Vilkas before they’re charging at each other like bulls. It happens too quickly and you can hear the sound of claws and teeth ripping through flesh before you snap.

“STOP!” Your voice is shaky but there’s a pause between the two of them and the larger wolf backs down. Vilkas stalks back to you making sure his brother doesn’t come any closer.

“Why in the hells are you fighting!? We-“ you shiver again head spinning a little, something gushing down your thigh, That’s why they’re fighting.

“Ok, I’m- I’m gonna walk away real slow over here” you mumble pointing in a random direction before you hurry to hide behind a tree. Your minds fuzzy and it seems everything’s caught up in your brain of you being in heat. Gods help you, it’d been so easy with the supply of heat suppressant potions coming to Jorrvaskr you truely don’t remember the last heat you had. Being surrounded by mostly alphas and betas it was the safer choice, not that any of them would hurt or force themselves on you.

“Wolfling?” Vilkas calls and you shake your head despite him not being able to see you. You see something flutter by your vision and look seeing another butterfly go by and off into the forest, the same older high pitched giggle filling your ears. Divines help you.

[29daffodils]

@luveverlong's KinnPorsche Triggers (and if they were results of the vegaspete madness)

hello OP! apologies for hijacking your post, but your reblog made me giddy and i didn't want to bombard your post with vegaspete in case they are not your thing!

**

okay, so @luveverlong made this post which i reblogged and then i started wondering how many triggers actually were there, and thought i'd count and classify which i feel were results of vegaspete madness 😅 here we go.

DISCLAIMER : i probably got some of them wrong, because i keep forgetting certain things happened (like, ken losing his head) . don't take this too seriously!

total triggers (so far) : 57

vegaspete contribution : 30

%age contribution : 52.6%

conclusion : so i was wrong, it's not 90% but it's more than 50% which is saying SOMETHING lmao

abuse >> gun and korn

alcohol use >> pretty much all the theerapanyakul cousins (except tankhun, maybe?)

animal death >> vegaspete + khun spikes 🥹

ass eating >> definitely vegaspete (and he did it with such enthusiasm too!!

assassination >> who??

attempted assassination >> definitely on kinn

attempted murder >> whose??

attempted underage drug use >> lmao porchay

attic wifery >> nampheung goes whoop!

blood >> vegaspete (first & foremost, but also everyone else since mafia)

bondage >> vegaspete (bcz kp are too damn vanilla lmao)

cheating >> who??? who's cheating??

child abuse >> vegaspete (my poor liddol meow-meow and my sweet summer child 🥹

choking >> vegaspete, sensually, but also kinnporsche literally

death >> vegas (i'll never forgive him for that, but also pete aiding in the undeath, hence, this is primarily vegaspete, i take no arguments

decapitation >> vegas (and pete watching from the distance)

edit : okay, it was ken. apologies for my bad english 🥲 (p.s. : i also did not count it under vegaspete in the original post! hence why vegas and pete are written separately, and not as the ship name!)

degradation >> vegaspete

dehumanization >> vegaspete

domestic violence >> technically also VP bcz their dads were shit, but let's count them out of this one because I'm not too sure

drugging >> oof, vegas (but not VP)

electrical torture >> vegaspete *evil laughter*

emotional blackmail >> vegaspete + granny saengtham lmao

flashing lights >> vegaspete (in their neon lit sex room)

force feeding >> vegaspete

gaslighting >> don't think this was VP, but let me know if i forgot a specific scene

gore >> vegaspete (iykyk)

guns >> okay, VP, but kinnporsche can have this one. that one spinning+shooting scene was epic.

gunshot wounds >> vegaspete wins this one. motherfucker survived 5 gunshots, and pete gave him one of them

hostage situations >> vegaspete go whoop!

illegal fighting >> lmao porsche

incest (???) >> definitely NOT VP (they are the only ones not involved in cousin fuckery and yet the most unhinged out of all of them)

kidnapping >> omg chay 🥲

manipulation >> vegaspete, via granny saengtham

munchausen by proxy >> i have no idea what this is, sorry

murder >> pretty much everyone lmao

mutilation >> vegas!!!

ownership >> vegaspete

panic attacks >> okay, I can't remember who got panic attacks, help out a fella here

petplay kink >> vegaspete

poisoning >> heh? somebody was poisoned??

prostitution (???) >> who??

scars >> vegaspete

self-harm >> vegaspete go whoop!

sex scenes >> vegaspete (but also kinnporsche) (but I'm biased and vegaspete were superior so……)

sexual assault / dubcon >> NOT VP 👀

sexual torture >> vegaspete (!!! 😳)

smoking >> pete alone can add up the points for this one lmao

stalking >> vegaspete lmao

stockholm syndrome >> vegaspete (but I'm rolling my eyes)

suicide >> who??

suicide attempt >> definitely only vegaspete

tasering >> vegaspete

theft >> vegaspete at its very core (iykyk)

torture >> vegaspete

vegas >> lmaoooo, he is a trigger warning by virtue, but accentuated by pete

verbal torture / abuse >> gun theerapanyakul 😤

vomit >> porsche 😂 (i think?)

[fearless-stormclaw]

To celebrate me starting the last chapter of the main part of the first book of my Owl House HP AU here are some sketches of some of the kiddos!

I might put colored versions of these drawings into the final draft.

(Fair warning, I do not claim to be an artist. Headshots are about the extent of my abilities.)

First up, our protaganist, 11-year-old Luz Noceda! She wears her hair in pigtails most of the time. The image on the right is a possible design of her with her hair down. (or a possible Vee, whose design I haven't fully pinned down yet) And I realized I forgot her scar whoops She's also supposed to have a scar across her left eyebrow which I forgot to draw but please imagine it's there.

Next up, 11-year old Amity Blight! Her little ponytail was an absolute pain to figure out how to draw. I think I managed it passably though. Her hair is dyed green, like it was in season 1 of the show.

12-year old Willow Park! Poor girl, she is haunted. Sorry, eyes are still a weakness. She's a year older than the others but still in the same grade because her birthday is after the first day of school. For Willow, this adds to her feeling of being behind everyone else.

9-year old Gus Porter! I should mention that the witches in this AU have normal round human ears, just like the wizards in the Harry Potter books. I imagine little Gus to have quite large ears that he will grow into some later. Again I apologize for the eyes.

11-year old Boscha Malphiday! I'm really pleased with how she turned out, although I struggled with her third eye and I'm still not 100% satisfied with how it turned out. Her surname in this AU is a play off of Malfoy--Malfoy comes from the French for "bad faith" (mal foi); Malphiday comes from "mal fidei", Latin for "bad faith".

13-year-old Hunter! He only appears as a cameo in the main storyline of Book 1, but he has a big part in one of the bonus epilogue chapters (which I haven't really written yet). In this timeline, he has only recently officially received his Golden Guard title. He hasn't gotten his cheek scar, ear notch, or eye bags yet (they will all come in due time) but he does have his tooth gap. He got that from getting his face punched in during training. I drew his Golden Guard uniform with only the one pauldron on his left shoulder as in the show, but I'm thinking of giving him a second one on his right shoulder like in the storyboards.

Meet 15-year-old Oliva Che'! She's one of my OCs. She's basically the Oliver Wood character--the captain of the Owl House grudgby team. She is a very spirited and gung-ho type and very enthusiastic about grudgby. She is in the construction track, although she is not a huge fan of the coven system. She's kind of a fun big sister to the younger Owl House students. She is of Yucateca Maya descent. She has brown or gold eyes. Her hair is naturally black but she dyes it a different color every year and usually keeps it in braids. This year it's pink. Unfortunately Paint did a weird thing when I cropped this picture and made her blurry I am so angry Her Palisman (not pictured) is a black spiny-tailed iguana named Toloc.

Meet 16-year-old Saka Katu! She is another OC. She is a cat demon girl and Oliva's girlfriend and also plays on the Owl House grudgby team (mostly because Oliva insists). She is in Potions track and believes deeply in the Coven system. She's a little uptight, some might call her bossy, and big into following the rules. She's kinda of a strict big sister type to the younger Owl House students. She keeps Oliva from being too reckless while Oliva keeps her from being too stiff. Saka is Malagasy for cat and Katu is Basque for cat so her name is literally "cat cat". She may or may not have a Palisman; if she does, it's some sort of fish.

Last but not least, 11-year-old William Myrtus Warthorne! His design is based off of Ser William from the audio tests/pilot. He is described as a handsome boy--broad-shouldered, with blond hair and blue eyes and a hooked nose which I swear I fixed but somehow it's still wrong ORZ. He is in Goat House and is friends with Boscha, but he doesn't participate in bullying (he doesn't do anything to stop it, though, he's just sort of there). He has a friendly, laidback personality and can get along with just about anyone. It's not discussed in this book (it's more of a plot point in book 2), but his family, the Warthornes, are a cadet branch of the Clawthornes which is why he has Clawthorne and Wittebane features.

[bear-cubs-art-things]

I really love that how you draw Zechariah's head? /pos

Bc I mostly have a hard time with drawing Zechariah's head <:'3

Can you show a bit tip of it pls (if you can that's okay /srs)

I can give you a tutorial!

So, I usually start by drawing a square/rectangle as the head base

then I draw the "snout". In the simplest of shapes, it's a rectangle! (Hopefullly u can see the dotted lines ;u;)

then, I draw a line perpendicular to the snout to create the eyes! As you can see, the eyes are most of the head base!

Add facial details, including scars, mouth, and face deformation :) (and nose detail that I forgot whoops-)

Then you draw the beard and hat!

voila! You have now successfully drawn a Zechariah Nettles headshot!

Hope this helps!

[tcnysncrk]

This is literally so pretty that I forgot to add any tags or commentary. But look at Eddie rizzing up his fake husband 🤭🤭🤭

This is a scene from chapter 9 of my fanfiction Solemn Vows

Scene under the cut

“And this is from the both of us,” Eddie smiled, revealing the large box. Buck gave him a questioning look and took the box slowly, opening it. Buck’s eyes lit up at the sight of his gift, tears immediately falling.

“Eds…” Buck started.

“Don’t worry, I got permission from the Chief, it’s all set.”

The gift was rather beautiful, a metal prosthetic leg that was lightweight, but heavy enough to give balance. The color design was an ambiance of reds and yellows and oranges. Fire. And sketched into the thigh with a phrase Soy puro fuego - amor, Christopher y Eddie.

I’m pure fire.

It was an one Spanish idiom that was used to describe someone who is very passionate. And that was Evan Buckley.

“I-I don’t know what to say-”

“Try it on, Papa!”

Buck looked away from Eddie after a moment and ruffled Christopher’s hair. He took a seat, realizing that he would have to half undress to take off his old prosthetic. He looked up at Eddie, questioning. Eddie laughed, crouching down so that his body was between Buck’s legs.

“You’re not a fan of these pants are you?” He asks, his voice low, looking up at Buck through his lashes. He involuntarily licked his lips and he watched Buck gulp and shake his head. “Good.”

Eddie pulled a pocket knife out and began carefully cutting just below where the prosthetic met flesh. He heard Buck take in a sharp breath of awe and amazement as Eddie carefully cut off the pants leg to reveal the full prosthetic.

“I-um,” Buck began, “I could’ve just gone inside and changed,” he whispered, as though his voice didn't work. And frankly, neither was Eddie’s. It seemed like a very intimate moment that Eddie had created, his hand still resting on Buck’s thigh.

“You could’ve,” he said in a low voice, “but I want to see the gift. I want people to know you’re ours. Mine.”

Buck swallowed again and Eddie wanted to pull him into a kiss. Instead he lifted Buck’s prosthetic leg, “May I?” Buck nodded dumbfounded and Eddie got to work taking off Buck’s leg and socket sock. He looked at the scarred tissue that would never fully heal.

And then a thought came to his head.

He leaned down and kissed the scars, a place that Eddie was never allowed to touch for long. He needed Buck to know that he was still beautiful.

“Eddie,” a soft whisper.

“Eres precioso,” Eddie whispered back.

You’re beautiful.

Then he grabbed the leg that he and his son had spent hours picking out - the perfect leg for the perfect man. He carefully placed the socket sock back over Buck’s thigh, careful to be as gentle as possible. Then he gently placed the leg on, and connected the strap.

“How does it feel?” He asked softly, as if speaking any louder would break this moment.

“Feels fantastic,” Buck replied, just as soft.

“Good,” he helped Buck up to his feet and leaned in, “I want the world to know that eres mío, ” he growled.

You’re mine.

“God, you two are so nauseating,” a voice called from behind them and they jumped away from each other. Someone giggled and Eddie turned to see Chimney and Maddie watching them, smiling.

“Shut up, Chim, you’re just jealous,” Buck stuck out his tongue, his arms snaking around Eddie’s middle.

“Oh, I have my own Buckley, thank you very much,” Chimney laughed, kissing Maddie’s head.

“But you’re not being dicked down by a Diaz.”

Eddie burned, Chimney fake gagged, and Maddie covered her mouth.

“Evan!” Maddie yelled.

“What, am I wrong?”

Yes, Eddie thought, we’re not having sex

“Your child is right there,” Maddie yelled, gesturing to Chris who had wandered off to play with Denny and Harry after realizing that his parents had forgotten about him.

Great.

“Whoops?” Buck laughed, “Oh, is that cake?” And Eddie watched Buck walk away, his pants cut and loft sided, but revealing the gift that he gave him.

“Y’all are freaks,” Chimney chucked.

“Shut up, Chimney,” Eddie smiled.

Prosthetic Buck from ‘Solemn Vows’ written and prompted by the amazing @tcnysncrk! Thank you for donating!!

This is a prompt fill with the @911actions gotcha for gaza- check out their page for cool stuff and donate to those in need!! 💕🍉