Just-a-soft-potato - Hey)

The @ama_mordhaus page on IG has answered questions that have made me HOWL,

in reaction to how much my yeti self chuckled my brainworms NEEDED to draw some fanart over one of their audios of nathan reviewing pieces of art with pickles

I’m a dead girl walking… this is what happens when you let theater kids do Halloween

Animazao por aquí tmb 🏃

Kloktober day 5 - Abigail Appreciation Day

I really have trouble drawing girls, sorry, I don't draw them usually

Dethklok as trolls/Детклок в виде троллей

+mini comic

Here’s a bunch of designs I did for The Doomstar Requiem…some were scrapped or changed but I like these versions so fuck the man!

Imagine Nathan busting out the daddy voice or Pickles busting out the mama voice whenever the group doesn't listen

my pen sensitivity dropped after the first panel and came back halfway through the last

“Please…” Snape stood frozen, speechless for the first time in a long time. Never in a million years would he predict this would happen. He didn’t think even the most talented seer in the wizarding world could predict this.

Potter looked worse for wear, covered in cuts and bruises, but he had been able to control his trembling and change his clothes from the tournament. It was very early in the morning, it must be three or four…Severus couldn’t sleep with the burning of his arm and the image of Potter’s face, devastated by the events of the last task of the Triwizard tournament. He’d never seen the boy, who always looked at him with his father arrogant face, reflect the achingly familiar expression that Severus’ own held so many times as a child. It haunted him. It made him, in that moment, regret his unforgiving and unrelenting criticism of the boy. Severus, the hypocrite, was just like his father.

Potter’s face was looking towards the floor, pale and flushed at the same time. Snape could see a nervous sweat beading on his forehead. “Please, Professor…” the boy’s plea was a harsh quivering whisper in the cold echo of Snape’s office. The boy looked up at him finally, his eyes full of panic and threatening to shed tears. Snape frowned but held his tongue, and waited for Potter to say something more.

Potter’s mouth opened and closed, no sound escaping except for the grinding of his teeth. Snape watching him as he struggled to find his words. “I need…No one understands—“ His eyes pleaded with Snape, begging him to understand. Snape, to his credit, could guess. Taking in Potter’s movements, he watched his hands clench and unclench, his lip quiver, eye lids flutter. He took a chance and stepped forward, his arms spreading and Potter fell into his grasp. Potter clutched at him, his thin fingers scrabbling for purchase and twisted into his black robes. The boy once again started to shake, the emotions finally spilling forth into tears and sobs.

Snape struggled to suppress the feelings of awkwardness and disgust that sprang up immediately. Taking a breath, he thought of his mother and his father and all the injustices that he faced as a child and let go. He moved his hand upwards to thread into Potter’s hair, the other still supporting the boy in their position now on the floor. He thought of when he was a boy, his mother rocked him back and forth, he mimicked the motion now.

Potter cried for it seemed like hours, with Snape— his most hated professor, holding him tightly and resting his sallow cheek on top of Potter’s unruly hair. Truthfully, only maybe a half an hour passed before Harry calmed; his breathing becoming slow and even. Snape continued to smooth his fingers through his hair until Potter moved. Severus expected to see reality dawn onto the boy’s face and him to flee in embarrassment, but it didn’t come. Instead, Potter placed his hands on either side of Severus’ face. Unable to move, Snape was disarmed by the eyes of his one and only true friend staring up at him. He did nothing as the boy drew closer until their foreheads were touching, he gripped Potter’s arms as he let out a soft sigh.

Both of them, touch-starved and unaccustomed to affection, felt a trill of warmth and comfort. Four in the morning, in the wake of the death of a friend and student, in the aftermath of Voldemort’s return, Snape let go.

The moment his thin lips brushed Harry’s he knew—this was it. His body and soul, which were already given to protect this boy, were joined by his heart. He relished in the needy whimpers and gasps freely given as he kissed Harry deeper and deeper. Harry’s hands moved from Severus’ face to wrap behind his shoulders pulling the taller man as close as physically possible. When Severus’ own hands moved down Harry’s back to pull him on to his lap, the boy broke away with a gasp.

Severus saw the green eyes consumed by the black of dilated pupils, and then were transfixed to the reddened lips that moved with words; “Professor, please, I don’t want to die not feeling…” he gasped out. Severus frowned, trying to understand what he meant. “Potter…” he mumbled, but was cut off. Harry, believing he would be rejected, spoke before he could hear it. “I thought I was going to die tonight—” he said, looking a little wild. “In those moments I had so many regrets. One of them, is that I realized no one really knew me.” He shuddered in Snape’s arms. “I have loving friends, but they don’t know what it’s like.” Harry’s eyes turned back to him. “But after…Moody…I realized that you understand.” His wide green eyes bore into him.

Severus was unsure of what exactly the boy thought he understood, but he knew he understood the pain of witnessing a friend’s death. He understood the panic and desperation to live when you’re sure you won’t. He understood how it felt to be manipulated by a powerful wizard whom you placed your trust in. He knew what it was like to be alone. So he said simply, “Yes, I understand.” before he was kissed again.

And there was no more need for words until the dawn of the quiet morning.

Then I drew type Pickles beat and we like to see on the face of who had beaten him. Pickles: run... Nathan: I. KILL. YOU!!