Haku-corner - Heith

long-nong huang

Gargoyles Selfie!! - 2014 to 2020

I love redrawing stuff. The top one was from 6 years ago. I hope I improved.

Xanatos once he realized making Thailog was a mistake:

Oopise daisy-as if making a murderous gargoyle robot cop was bad enough

“Ahem.. Unless you two want to stay like that for the next twelve hours, we better go.” (I just can’t with this guy basically being the proud cockblocker of the entire clan. He can have all my love and affection, though, regardless if he wants it or not. Disapproving traditionalist grandpa - no hugs until you wed her first, Goliath.)

♡ Takashi ♡ 

"And a Hunting We Will Go"

Summary: Elisa gets a rude awakening

Words: 433

2/3

Warnings! Animal Death, mentions of gore

Unfortunately- 

It didn't stop there. 

Before the tendrils of light crossed her face and the coolness of the early, early morning breeze forced her awake, an odd, rancid smell did.

Sluggishly she willed her eyes opened-then screamed. In her rush she nearly toppled off the bed to scramble away from the dead rat placed on the pillow next to hers.

"Mama! You're awake!" It was Adair, all bright eyed and bushy tailed "look! Look! What I caught! It was in the kitchen, so I got it! You like it! It's a present for you!" 

He nudged it closer to her, hopping on his toes, his long, dark curls bouncing as he did, glee written all over his cherubic face. He was the picture-perfect aura of childlike innocence. Which only awakened her suspicions because her son was a devious little trickster. 

And what was he doing in the- 

Never mind, it's way too early and she's had no coffee yet to rejuvenate her system.

Honestly, he put Puck to shame sometimes.

"Mama!" 

"Oh! Uh…." she eyed the dead rat with not much enthusiasm, that she tried to hide, not sure why she felt so squeamish. It's a rat, she's seen plenty-both dead and alive. 

I mean she just spent the previous night haggling an under covered body. With part of their head missing and brain bits blown all over the floor. Which had long mingled into the matted rug they found the poor bastard on.

The stench of a four-week-old body left to rot and cook in a stuffy, rundown New York apartment just did not compare to the smell of a freshly killed sewer rat. They both stunk, but unfortunately the rat body was in her bed, on her sheets soaking them in rancid, diseased blood and bodily fluids.

"Thank you, baby" Adair's bright smile only widened as he picked it up and plopped it right in her hands. Elisa did her best not to cringe away from the smell, or the spongy, mush of dead rat carcass between her fingers.

"Did I do a good job, mama!?" 

"Of course, a very good one-" she moved the gory mush to one hand to pat his head full of dark curls "look at you, my little hunter" 

He grinned wider, teeth, and fangs and all. She couldn't help, but feel a swell of pride, despite the morbidity of everything.

Elisa could only sigh and shook her head. This is what you signed up for, better get used to it. But she's definitely going to have a long chat with Xanatos about his pest control.

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Gargoyles production art by Frank Paur.

I just thought of the ultimate gargoyles cross over-

The Emperor's New Groove Au-

Xanatos as Kuzco

Goliath as Pacha

Demona as Yzma

Coldsteel as Kronk

Elisa as Chicha

Hudson as the old man, Kuzco has thrown out the window.

Angela and the trio as the kids.

The sheer hilarity of Xanatos turning into a llama is way too freaking funny. It's funnier when Goliath and the others are still gargoyle, but it's never addressed whatsoever.

Super Rough Draft

Goliath-Centric

Basically, writing stuff about Goliath's parents and his wonderful home life. And generational trauma.

: - )

ANGST!

Gargoyles did not claim parentage to their children. Hatchlings were children of the clan, raised up and cared for by the village. It was considered selfish to do otherwise. 

"We are a community, we need to operate like one. Just as a hive cannot be sustained by one bee. Just as the nest of an ant cannot be ruled only by a sole queen, everyone has their part to play, everyone has a role, a service to do. It is the way of our people." 

An elder once said to him.

Then did that mean his mother was selfish? 

Lia.

His mother. She had claimed him for her own against every warning she should not. But, she did not care and his clan did not much care for her. His mother was an outsider, but literally and metaphorically. Hudson had found her, half starving and bloodied by a river bank and took pity of her. She said she had hailed from a clan faraway where the land was barren and mountainous, but she did not speak of it more, she had no desire to return, she had ran away and never looked back.

And while his clan was gracious enough to allow her refuge they never truly accepted her. And his mother never really made an effort to build any bridges between them and her. She was a loner and kept to herself. 

His clan was content to leave her and not pay her any mind. Until she claimed his egg for her own.

The elders were not happy about it and voiced their discontent.

"Those are not our ways" 

"They may be yours, but they are not mine. I abide by no one's rules, but my own" 

The elders of Clan Wyvern kicked up a fuss, but it is not as though they did much about it. Or could do anything about it, given that the clan leader of that time-Samson-did not care and was his father, not that he had much part in raising him. 

His younger self never understood why. His mother and father never became a truly mated pair which also struck a nerve with the elders, but they were too afraid of Samson to voice it openly to his face. They had no ceremony and made no real fan fair about it. It often made him wonder if his parents ever liked each other. They never argued, disagreements sometimes, but it never escalated. His mother never had anything bad to say about his father nor did he ever hear his father bad mouth his mother.

They were an odd pair-silent and distant. 

There were very few pleasant memories he had of his own father. Some of them vivid, others hazy, his father was a man of very little words and an even shorter temper. He was not very well liked among their clan. He was temperamental, violent almost to the point of being unhinged, and seemingly uncaring about anything else that wasn't killing. And not all that friendly. 

There was no one in the clan that he considered friend, Goliath doubted he ever truly trusted anyone. The closest thing to that, probably was Hudson.

And his mother- 

Like he said before-their relationship was always a mystery to him. 

"I do not think I'm capable of love" 

Goliath looked up, meekly, his father was so tall, even while sitting he had to crank his all the way back to catch a glimpse of his face "I do not understand others" 

…..

"I hardly understand myself" 

"I'm not kind. I only know war, blood-violence is my only expression. I'm not meant to be gentle. Or anything else of that matter" it's the most he's ever heard him speak. 

"I cannot not be what you wish me to be" 

Goliath ducked his head not knowing what to say "I was never meant to be a father" 

Goliath didn't know what he meant to do by telling himself such. He had been so young then, and his father was more an entity of fear than a person to him. He never smiled, never laughed, he was never much of anything. When he wasn't brutalizing his enemies, he'd be alone, carving wood until his hands bled. And while his mother was distant, he can recall the small, quiet smiles she'd give him. Or sometimes she let out a bout of boisterous laughter though those were rare.

Most of the time she was sad. And when she wasn't abrasive towards others, she was stagnant, her face vacant except for the emotions he was far too young to understand.