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Writing dialogue is the bane of my existence

“What did they say to each other?”

“Idk words?!?!?”

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I don’t like Jambette

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I wanna be a tattoo artist, but I’m terrified of needles.

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I went to a thrift store today….

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Great ArtFight everybody! Let’s all pass the fuck out on the floor

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I’m not normal about this song

CHAPPELL FINALLY DROPPED THE SUBWAY!!!

IM IN LOVE 😍😍😭😭

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CHAPPELL FINALLY DROPPED THE SUBWAY!!!

IM IN LOVE 😍😍😭😭

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She fell on my face last night

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Im a kick ass artist capable of learning so fucking much and i got awesome lips and nice titties and my hair fuckin rocks. go on. Im waiting.

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Star Wars is slowly pulling me back into its clutches.

I can feel it.

The kyber crystals. They call to me

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I laugh sometimes when people call Clone Wars-era Obi-Wan old. He's not old, he's 38. He just seems that way because our most popular/famous comparisons are Ahsoka (literal 14-17 year old), Anakin (19-22), and fucking Yoda (900+).

He's not old he's just slightly more mature than all of the above. (And even then, only sometimes. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a maniacal, mischievous bastard when he wants to be and I stand by that statement.)

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Simon and The Dragon

COD x TOTK crossover because I get sad whenever I play TOTK and think about the fact that Link can't be with Zelda :( ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* At least his eyes were still blue, Simon thought. Still held the ocean in them so far away from the sea. They glistened in the sun, reminding him of their days together before he disappeared. When they fought side by side, when they huddled together as raucous storms passed overhead. And when they’d laughed, not cried, while water dripped onto their heads through the holes of their tent. 

But Johnny neither laughed nor cried now. Or, couldn’t, Simon supposed. 

The retired knight sat on the quiet hilltop, the long, wild grass flitting between his fingertips as his lover drew near. This was their—his— new tradition. Simon would watch the skies, had learned his patterns, and waited. The townsfolk didn’t say anything when he rented his room and then disappeared for two days at a time. Some of them would watch him go, their gazes heavy on his back, as he trekked up the knolls just outside of town. 

There was a time when the two of them would visit this place together. They drove hordes of beasts from the outskirts of town, the warrior prince’s loud warcries always followed by his boisterous yells of victory when they were done. The old innkeeper asked where he had gone. Simon hadn’t had the heart to tell her. 

No, that burden was his and his alone. 

It had been ever since he found his last memory, the last moment from a time long past. That son of a bitch, the self-sacrificing bastard, Simon cursed inside his head. His eyes welled up as Johnny’s form took on a more clear shape through the clouds. The blades of grass ripped and tore from the earth as Simon gritted his teeth. 

“Why…” he breathed, as if the wind could carry the word to Johnny. 

Three years. Three full years had passed since Simon finished their impossible task. He’d nearly bled out in the ruined throne room, alone and screaming as he collapsed to my knees. But the Demon King was dead. Slain in Johnny’s old castle, their lands now safe. There were still pockets of enemies Simon hunted down to this day, but the kingdom was secure. It was all finally over. 

But a part of him didn’t want it to be over. Because if that were true, it meant there was nothing he could do to get him back. He’d be gone forever, trapped like this. A sick kind of irony that only Simon would feel the brunt of. 

He couldn’t sit still, not since the moment he’d gotten healed. If the knight wasn’t scouring the ends of the earth for remaining creatures of the Demon King, he was looking for a cure. He learned the ancient language, raised it from the dead just for his love. But the texts were so old, so scattered, and so unhelpful, the task was for naught. Simon knew that, but no matter how hard his head tried to convince him of that futility, the heart refused to hear it. 

It beat on through his chest for moments such as these. When Johnny’s eyes would gleam in the early morning sunrise, massive pearls of aquamarine nearly glowing. Simon recognized him, not only from the memories he left behind for him, but because their souls were intertwined. 

Simon would love Johnny in every life, in every form. Neither death nor circumstance would take the pleasure of cherishing Johnny away from him. The brave prince and his most loyal knight. Separated in flesh but not in action. Not in the very dirt beneath their feet. This land knew them, it spoke of their victories. The very fact it still existed at all was enough to keep Simon grounded when he saw him like this. 

Gone were the lips that spoke his name with a reverence only he deserved. His hands had changed, no longer built for journaling their findings or wielding his sword Simon still carried. And along with the rest of him, his voice had disappeared as well. 

But even still, there were traces of the old him. 

Simon smiled, a pained thing, as Johnny bellowed, the sound ricocheting off the mountainsides as his body twisted and curled through the sky. Majestic, that was what one of the children had said last time he allowed himself to be around people. Such a big word, one of the elders had said and he agreed. But it was true; their savior was majestic like this. Not that it had been any different when he was still human. Still Simon’s. 

Now though, when the Dragon of Light coiled through the skies, the people of his kingdom looked up with reverence. Even if they didn’t know what their prince had given for them to live, they still gave him the respect he deserved. It soothed a part of him to know that. 

“Johnny,” he whispered, standing and walking to the edge of the crater his love seemed to be drawn to. 

He’d followed him once, riding on his back amongst his massive scales and the gems that protruded from his spine. They traveled through the Depths for half the month, the dragon prince casting light across the underworld beneath our feet. And then he flew through the fresh, clean air of the surface for the rest of his time. As far as Simon knew, he never stopped, never rested. Always drifted effortlessly through the skies. 

He was nearly here now. If he even noticed his audience of one, he made no indication, as always. His eye on the side of his head facing Simon blinked slowly. He stepped even closer, boot-clad toes hanging over the edge of the Depths. His hand stretched outward toward him, something deep inside begging for a moment of the past. Just a heartbeat where his hand would settle in his again. Where he could see his smile. Hear his laugh. 

But he wasn’t so delusional. As his long snout drew as close it would, he readied himself and sprung off solid ground. Johnny’s scaled head began to dip into the hole and Simon landed against him with the lightest footfall he could manage. The dragon’s head shook just a bit, like a horse clearing flies but Simon held onto one of his massive glowing horns. 

Tears pricked his eyes now that no one, not even the sun, could see him crumble. 

“I hope you’ve been well, love,” he murmured softly, hands shaking as he held on. 

Of course, there was no response, but that didn’t stop the man. 

“I checked the southern deserts again. Droughts revealed a new cavern system and…” he took a deep breath. And then dissolved into tears. 

His fingers ached as he grasped onto Johnny for dear life. Not for a fear of falling, no, he had no fear of dying now. Not any more. The daylight became but a pinprick above them as his lover’s body twisted softly through the air with the grace of a cloud. 

Simon was no fool, had never been. Johnny used to tease him for being so pragmatic. He could recall when the two of them would fight over Simon’s duty to sacrifice himself for his prince and how each conversation dissolved into those languid kisses Johnny was so good at giving. ‘You won’t be throwing yourself into a sword for me, Si. Never for me.’ 

And Simon supposed the bastard had been right. But if he could change fate, if he could have torn himself apart for the good of the world, for Johnny instead, he would have. It wouldn’t have been a thought in his mind, like muscle memory even if it was for the first time. That was his duty as much as it was his only reason for being on this planet. 

That was what had led him to where he was now. Desperate. Longing. If he couldn’t bring his lover back to him, what was he to do with however much time the Goddess would grant him? “Maybe…” Simon whispered, forehead pressed to his love’s, “maybe I’ll shed my form, too. Join you in the skies.” 

The dragon beneath him rumbled, a soft growling hum that vibrated Simon to his very core. He stroked the scales beneath his fingers, kissing them with all the tenderness he could muster. No amount of pretending made this any easier.

The knight’s voice wavered and cracked. “I’d find you in any life, Johnny. In all of them. You know that, don’t you?” 

There was no response. “I’d do it all again. Every last drop of blood I’ve shed, every moment of pain, if it meant you’d come back to me.”

Something snapped within the man and he wept, screaming and gnashing his teeth as the dragon forged his path through the darkness. Simon raged, spit flinging from his tongue as he lamented all he had lost. As he felt every moment the two of them had never gotten to enjoy together. For every embrace they’d never share. For each ‘I love you’ that would go unsaid.

But that was love, the raw anger and disgust with the hand that had been dealt. It was true, passionate, raging love that Simon had for his prince. For no matter if he was that regal warrior he had fallen in love with the day he laid eyes on him or if he was the creature of unfathomable creation, nothing would pull Simon away from the soul he would always know more than his own. That was the love he would gladly give until the day he ceased to be. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

So, I wrote most of this like, two months ago and I did the ending today because I'm avoiding my actual COD writing lol. So the end is rushed, but do we see what I was going for? Is this anything?

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sending this as an anon cause i don’t like to reblog my own art,

ghost’s eyes are white in my recent soapghost art because i wanted the viewer’s attention to be drawn more to johnny than simon. so to do that, i gave ghost less detail but thicker lineart! which is a visual implication that he’s a more prominent, protective figure to soap in that moment. i did mess around with a few versions where his eyes did indeed have eye shape/pupil detail but settled on the white for a more absent and stoic look :))

thank you for the love on the piece btw i had no idea if anyone was gonna see it since i’d never shown any interest in ghostsoap before ^^

Thank you for the clarification!!

I can totally see it now, especially since Ghost isn’t as render as Soap was! I love the piece and I can tell a lot of thought was put into it :))

It’s very pretty. And thank you again for clarifying that for me :DD

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there are 2 kinds of mangaka when drawing: the ones that hate woman and the ones that love woman

And, guys...

i think ryoko kui really loves woman.

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Rescue;

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fuck hussle culture, the toad to success is to sleep well, eat well and have fun

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