A Special Valentine Delivery For Ya’ll ❤️😍

A comic I did during a stream a few days ago! Referenced from this panel because I sure do love making it obvious that I’m JoJo trash!

I still can’t paint water very well, but I had fun nonetheless! EDIT: Ooh, I almost forgot! Stan’s line in the 2nd panel was thought up by @punkoz!

My favorite headcannon what we all collectively agree on is that Stanford purrs, he just the best and deserves some love after all the suffering he has been through. 🥰🥹

PINES!  PINES!  PINES!  PINES!

♪ Let’s head for south-southwest and keep the party going on ♫ 

𝓢ᵒ๓ᵉｲђιɴ𝘨ꮥ wrᴏ𝗇Ꮆ…

This lovely piece was inspired by this song:

I have been graced with the death omen on my page

Befriends the local dog

(Ok i lied its not hypothetical…watch ou- too late)

A plus sized young man with black fading to a brownish red curly almost afro styled hair with bangs that usually covered his cognac eyes wearing a galaxy hoodie, a pair of worn ripped jeans, and purple sneakers was chasing after his dog(?) calling out to it trying to get it to stop but he’s not fast enough because the dog(?) has now tackled a person which just make the young man’s anxiety spike.

“Astral no! Down girl down!” He would call out looping his fingers underneath the dog’s(?) collar and yanking it back or at least attempting to, the strange dog seemed almost twice the size of a great dane “I’m so sorry about this sir, are you alright?” He would ask finally managing to pull the dog(?) off of Stanford only to then hold his hand out in an attempt to help the poor man up.

“I promise she means no harm she just doesn’t realize how big she is and just gets excited easily.”

Question Stanford, hypothetical how would you react if by chance you were tackled by a green and teal fur, with four magenta eyes, lime horns, sabertooth fanged dog(?)…hypothetically speaking of course! Ehehe

“I… what?"

"I mean… I should be fine with it as long as it doesn’t pose a threat to me, or my friends I suppose. That’s certainly an… unusual way to describe a specimen.”

"I don't think anything like it currently even exists, at least not to my knowledge."

Childhood Bites Chapter Two: The Hunt

⚠️TW: Blood, violence, implied abuse⚠️

꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒦꒰ঌ‪‪𐂯‬໒꒱꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Zeke didn’t sleep that night.

He lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling of his family’s rundown beach house. The air inside was thick with the stench of alcohol and cigarettes, the walls too thin to block out his father’s snores from the other room.

His stomach twisted in pain, but he was used to that.

His father’s latest punishment had been a week without food.

Zeke had learned how to ignore the ache, how to push through it. But today, it was worse. Because now, he knew what could make it stop.

His tongue ran over his teeth, the memory of Campelter’s blood still fresh in his mind.

It had been a mistake. An accident. A loss of control.

That’s what he told himself.

The taste hadn’t disgusted him.

It had made him hungry.

He turned onto his side, gripping the old blanket tighter, trying to will the feeling away.

I won’t do it again.

He repeated the thought like a prayer.

I won’t. I won’t. I won’t.

But his stomach growled. His hands trembled. And in the darkness, his eyes flicked toward the corner of the room, where his father’s metal bat leaned against the wall.

The same bat his old man had used on him. Dried blood stained the tip. His own blood.

It had always belonged to his father. A tool of punishment. A reminder of Zeke’s place in the house.

But not tonight.

Tonight, it was his.

The Boathouse

Zeke walked the empty streets of Glass Shard Beach, the bat gripped tight in his hands.

The town was quiet this late at night, only the occasional streetlight flickering. The summer crowd had thinned out, leaving only the locals.

Leaving kids like Campelter free to roam.

Zeke knew exactly where he’d be. The old boathouse near the dunes wasn’t much—just a crumbling shack covered in graffiti—but it was where the older kids went to drink and mess around.

That’s where Zeke found him.

Campelter sat on the dock outside, flipping a lighter open and closed, the flame reflecting in his bored expression. His friends were long gone, leaving him alone.

Perfect.

Zeke stood in the shadows, watching. His heart pounded.

He could still turn back.

He could go home. Forget this. Try to be normal.

But then Campelter shifted, his injured arm catching the moonlight.

The same arm Zeke had bitten.

And just like that, the hunger roared back to life.

His grip on the bat tightened.

Campelter sighed, shaking his head. “I know you’re there, freak.”

Zeke stepped forward, the wooden planks creaking under his weight.

Campelter rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”

Zeke’s voice came out quiet. “I don’t know.”

Another lie.

Campelter scoffed. “You here to try and bite me again? Jesus, dude, what is wrong with you?”

Zeke didn’t answer.

His body moved on instinct, stepping closer, closing the distance. The bat in his hand felt heavy. Solid.

Campelter frowned, finally looking at him—really looking at him.

Something in his expression changed.

“…Wait. Are you serious right now?”

Zeke’s breath came faster. The hunger clawed at his insides.

Just go home.

Just walk away.

But his father’s voice echoed in his head.

“You’re nothing. You don’t fight back. You don’t stand up for yourself.”

Zeke’s fingers twitched on the bat.

“You’re weak.”

His jaw clenched.

“You’re always gonna be hungry.”

Zeke swung.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

To Be Continued…