Shark Face Fan Art Red Vs Blue Shark Face Team Fan Art

happy pride month!! ^^ I am a big fan of trans sharkface if u feel like drawing him :)

Happy pride month to you too!

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I've been here a bit and every now and then I think "I want to interact with my fellow RVB lovers but to do that I need to post SOMETHING. But what?" So to rip off the band aid imma keep it simple.

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the mercs as johann, viggo and krogan !

felix dies almost the same way as johann, instead of being frozen inside the cave, the bewilderbeast rams its body into one of the walls and the shockwave is strong enough to knock him off the cliff (reminiscent of him falling from the tower in rvb)

instead of being killed by his boss like krogan was, sharkface is killed by carolina in the final battle for the king of dragons bc again, reflective of canon

and locus gets to live <33 yes ik ur thinking scrat the whole point of viggo's arc is that he dies the moment he redeems himself but u know what? idc he saves the day with a changewing he finds (as opposed to viggo's skrill) and after that they fly away into the sunset together

i think this post is where the distinction between it being a race to the edge au instead of a httyd movie au is important bc literally none of these characters are in the films so erm sorry if u haven't seen the series x

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so there's a part of @sharkface-daydreams rvb fic "Mind Games" that includes Sharkface-can't-stop-thinking-about-how-cute-Tucker-is and 👀 I couldn't get it out my brain so I had to draw it :] [Link to the fic is in the notes!]

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Sharkface and I decided to make peace and go out for drinks. it's temporary, but it's been a nice night so far, surprisingly. maybe fishstick will turn out to be fun! doubtful though.

- Felix 💔

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Sharkface warmup

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Quality on the meme template sucks so hopefully this is better

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alt title: wlw/mlm solidarity

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some wam up doodles to get the bloodflow goin

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Happy valentines day yall

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pspsps u should draw sharkfaceeeeeeeeeeeeeee (also love ur art btw 10/10)

Sharkface did not die he's hanging out with red team and relaxing

(and thanks! <3)

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This literally came to me in a dream and is so self-indulgent.

The Chorus Bermuda Triangle, a place where some force fields of some alien temples fry every piece of electricity, a crashed ship, and three mercs with an unplanned vacation.

Words: 1167, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Red vs. Blue

Rating: General Audience

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply,

Categories: Gen

Characters: Locus | Samuel Ortez, Sharkface (Red vs. Blue), Felix | Isaac Gates

Additional Tags: Fluff, Platonic Cuddling, implied crushes

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I've been thinking about Sharkface a lot today, and I gotta say, why the fuck is he named Terrance? Who at Rt looked at him and decided that was a good name? Even before he got a face it didn't work, and when he did get a face it's still so far off lol.

Not only that, but why does he get a first name while Carolina doesn't? He was her narrative foil, and he somehow got a name before she did! Where's her name at Rt?!

Nevermind, I don't wanna know what her name is if it's gonna be as mis-matched as Terrance.

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Can't fall asleep?

Siris: When he cannot force himself to sleep, most likely go out for a jog to clear his mind up.

Locus: Read a book quietly on his bed. Or questing about all the decisions he made that could have been done differently.

Sharkface: Mostly likely go play poker with a friend or by himself if nobody's awake.

Felix: undoubtedly will go out to the club to have a fantastic time with woman. Resulting in a one night stand and a horrible headache.

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My @redvsbluesecretsanta gift to @sharkface-daydreams! It's a Locus/Sharkface domestic fic, with references to Red team shenanigans.

-----

Locus lies in his bed, wide awake, listening to the sounds of a fire burning across the grass, and possibly gunfire, or fireworks going off outside. Knowing the red team, it could be anything from a misfire, to them thwarting another world-ending event. If the rumors of them traveling through time and causing alternate dimensions were to be believed. Then again he had seen the reds and blues destroy the manufactured civil war he and Felix orchestrated, survive the freelancer program's enemies time and time again, not to mention that old Director of theirs.

"They're at it again." Sometimes his voice still flexes in the middle of his sentences. Years with the burns and Terrence doesn't even seem to notice the fluctuations anymore.

"When are they not?" His own voice is strained. The grogginess of sleep still has his throat within its grip. Water would soothe its hold. "Why did we agree to move in with them?"

"Because the blue team doesn't have any room left, and I wouldn't sleep in the same place as the former freelancers." Terrence sits down on the bed beside him. "Come on." They needed to start breakfast. Grif would have already eaten, Simmons most likely made his own food. Donut was gone now, and Sarge will insist on only eating the blood of his enemies until he smells the bacon and eggs. Then Caboose will wander over searching for pancakes, with Tucker and the others in tow. With Donut gone, and Doc away for work, the task of cooking was up in the air for a while. That was until they found the two least likely to burn down the kitchen was himself and Terrence. It had been a shock to everyone, but the two of them. Apparently, there are some preconceived notions about Mercenaries and knowing a kitchen. And when he was Sharkface, Terrence had shown some skill with a flamethrower they assumed only came from the experience of him setting fires to everything around him. Both ridiculous, and yet perfectly in character for the reds and blues.

"Yes." Locus pushes himself up. Terrence's arms fold around his waist. He doesn't need the help getting up, but it's become routine at this point. A weird tradition of their own, on a planet of weird traditions. Locus looks over at Terrence and smiles. Maybe they were becoming more than just honorary members of the red team. "I'll make the pancakes."

"I'll handle the bacon and eggs." Terrence agrees as they stand together. His arm doesn't move away. Though his hand drifts down, lower onto his side. To a place that would allow them to move more comfortably. "Or we could try something new today."

Something new? They were trying new things every single day since they joined this team. It was what filled most of their time. New and unknown, seemingly impossible things. Stuff that just happened without any prompting at all. Often interrupting the mundane life he wanted after retiring from the mercenary game. Locus now often finds himself hoping that something new would be entirely unremarkable. "What are you thinking?"

His smirk was anything but calming. Honestly, his smile was more like a shark than his face. All teeth, and sharp lines. The perfect distraction so people miss what he does with his hands. Not that he could do much without Locus noticing now.

The kitchen was a mess. Which wasn't out of the norm. Between all the snacks stacked in the nooks and crannies of every room, due to Grif's fear of being running out of food suddenly, the food wars Sarge started as a substitution for real wars, and all the equipment that gets dumped from Simmons' failed creations and 'the useless extra bits' from Sarge's guaranteed that the kitchen was never truly clean. It was, like many of the rooms in their home, a shared space. One that everyone attempted to carve out just a small amount from, for themselves. He had been no different. Locus' mess comes from the weapons that could be found around the room. From sniper rifles to large, definitely meant for a different kind of carving than what Terrence uses them for, knives. Anywhere he stands there's a weapon hidden just out of sight. A simple stretch, a single jump, and he was ready to react to the smallest sense of danger. Which had been often when he first moved in with the reds. What's dangerous for them has a much higher bar than most people. Especially for himself. Their daily explosions would've meant a job extremely fucked back in the day. Terrence still catches him wincing from the sounds on occasion.

Though the other red, offered no affectionate nickname than the one he gave himself, Sharkface often keeps Locus' temporary moments of panic to himself. When Locus joined the reds it had been mere months after their other former enemy. Apparently, the blue team had claimed all-new teammates up until Sharkface's arrival. When Locus arrived it had sparked the bickering all over again. With Grif loudly proclaiming he would stay with Red team before anyone else had even noticed his presence. Helping them against Temple had made a far more positive impression on the teams than he had expected. Even Terrence had forgiven him. How, was a question Locus never really got an answer to.

The former prisoner just looked him over, offered his hand, and said, "They're fucking crazy so I'm sure you'll fit right in." Locus hadn't even realized who he was until he lifted off his new helmet with a red shark painted across it, to reveal a half-burnt smile.

"Locus, pass me the knife you taped to the top of the cup shelf," Terrence calls, pulling Locus out from his memories.

"It's a trailing knife. Wouldn't one of the steak knives at the end of the counter work better?" Locus suggests waving him off to the other side of the kitchen.

"Nope. The trailing knife is better for meat." Unsure of how true that claim was, Locus passed his hidden knife over. Attempting to sneak a glance at the contents spread out before his partner as he does so.

Terrence was quick to block his view. "Not yet."

Crossing his arms Locus frowns. "We're cooking together. I should know what you need. That way I can avoid using them."

Terrence smiles like a shark once more. The other man pats his cheek with the hand holding the knife. Cold metal grazes against his skin delicately. Gently. A sign that Terrence wasn't trying to threaten him, but to ease his mind instead. That metal, it's a familiar feeling used in such an unfamiliar way. Much like a shark, he looks innocent even up close. If Locus didn't have years of paranoia built into his every thought and bodily action, he wouldn't have been so keenly watching and feeling for every little move Sharkface makes. Otherwise, he would've missed the way Terrence's lips mouth a silent, 'No'.

"Fine." Locus wanders over to the table instead. He leans against it, waiting for his orders. For twenty minutes he's told nothing and struggles to take note of any of the ingredients Terrence is mixing around on the table. He could hear eggs cracking, and the oven's burners being turned on. When he didn't want to wait any longer he finally voices the question burning in his mind. "What am I suppose to make?"

Terrence grins like the answer should be obvious. "Whatever you'd like."

"So trying something new means making whatever?" His fingers were starting to twitch.

Terrence shrugs as he returns his attention to his food. "It's different from the usual breakfast. Besides we got a late start today. So we can claim it doubles as breakfast and lunch." Terrence pauses to laugh at something. "Like a really big brunch."

"Really big brunch?" He just wanted some sort of guidance. A hint as to what Terrence was so eagerly preparing over the oven. It would be easier to decide what to make if he knew. What if Terrence fries a bunch of food and he bakes Lemon scones? The flavors wouldn't blend well together at all.

Having heard eggs breaking wasn't useful either. Eggs can be used in so many dishes that knowing them as an ingredient alone doesn't narrow it down. Locus pinches the bridge of his nose. He had two choices. One, he can continue to stand here driving himself mad trying to decide what to do. Or he could go with option two, grab whatever is available and start making food.

Locus chooses the latter. Of course, he did indeed need some of the same ingredients Sharkface was harboring on the counters around the oven as he cooks. He takes some eggs, flour, and finds himself grateful that Simmons is so insistent on ordering far more food than what they need for a month because there are even beans on the shelves.

As the first thirty minutes of this kitchen madness comes to an end, Locus knows something has changed. There's a feeling in the air. A spark. Glancing over his shoulder he takes in the sight of Sharkface moving about in a flurry. He cooks as if he's on that old live television show, Masterchef. Whatever was going on through his head, it had him in his groove.

If Locus' mess are the weapons he has hidden throughout then Terrence's mess is the stains on the counters. Not the black oil stains, Locus stares at as he whisks at the dough in his bowl, or the smudges of dirt Simmons focuses on when he's in one of his cleaning frenzies. No Terrence finds comfort in seeing the marks he leaves behind. There's a yellow-ish corner on the bottom of one of the cabinets from where his homemade dressing for his pork chops had spilled once. He tripped backward and tossed the bowl up to save it, causing it to smack against the corner of the shelf instead. They had forgotten to clean it up right away because there was a bigger mess of pork chops, and the dry rub he had used.

Locus pulls his eyes away from the yellow corner, to the straight edge line in the table. It was so large he could see all the way from the oven. Not that he was going to try and get anywhere in Terrence's way right now. No Locus was busy mixing bowls of dough, whip cream, and fruit dressings. Setting the dough down in the dishes they will be baked in once there's a chance opening for the oven.

Locus rolls his eyes. They land back on the three inches long cut on the table. He was skinning fish and the knife was starting to slip free of his hand. To keep it from falling anywhere else Terrence smacked it straight down along the spine of the blade. It was a solid inch into the old wooden table. Sarge was surprised it didn't go deeper. Locus was the one who cleaned the cut on Terrence's hand. He had hit the spine so hard, it was still able to cut into his skin. Which was the most impressive part of the whole affair.

"Locus!" His attention snaps back towards Terrence who was standing still for once. Everything looked fine. He was wiping something off of his hands with Donut's abandoned pink hand towel. "Your turn with the oven."

"About time." Is all he mutters, as he picks up an arm's worth of his bowls and laid out oven pans.

"I know. I know," Terrence starts, delicately wrapping his arms arounds Locus' waist. He's careful not to touch Locus' shirt with his messy fingers. The man then kisses the back of his neck. They climb up, stopping with the warm kiss Terrence places right at the base of his head. "Forgive me?"

"Let me cook." Locus grumbles, forgiving him. Terrence smiles as he sets him free.

Locus does his best not to look at the dishes spread out on the counter, and stove tops. Still he can smell the Molletes, and fresh bacon. Locus had actually prepared dishes of Mexican Sopaipillas, churros, huevos rancheros, some muffins, and crepes due to how unsure he had been about what would be made. Though it seems Terrence had at least tried to make some breakfast, and some lunch meals, Locus wasn't sure if any of his dishes could be considered the latter instead of the former, let alone if they qualified for lunch.

"Your food smells delicious."  Terrence whispers as he pulls Locus back away from the stove. He pulls their bodies back into a lean on the fridge. Terrence's body seemed to file perfectly within the lines of Locus' despite the few inches Locus had on him. "I can't wait to eat!"

Solemnly, relaxing within the peaceful air of food smells mingling in the air, Locus looks out across the kitchen. Almost every counter had some sort of pot, pan, or bowl of food on it. "We made too much."

Terrence laughs. "We'll call it an early dinner too."

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Listen genderbent mercs have been living in my head rent free.

I could also say that this was a way of practicing different styles, lighting and rendering techniques to get used to digital art,,, but I won't lie to y'all like that.

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Pats Mercs ASMR

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davisobarresidde.blogspot.com

Source: https://www.tumgir.com/tag/rvb%20sharkface

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