#comms officer

[reyturnofbensolo]

I thought she looked familiar! Katy O'Brian in a Star War AND the MCU!!

I feel like Katy could’ve stepped into the Cara Dune role and made her 10 times better than Gina!!!!!!!!!!

[doctorwalrider]

Tbh when I first saw this dude I nearly shit my pants……but now I listen to his quotes on YouTube on repeat!

[sirazaroff]

You know those couple portraits people would make? Yeah. I just thought this would be funny. I believe Glinda’s classically trained enough to have legit art skills, and Elphaba…is cute :)

Forever thankful to @cseni-bean for the Elphaba portrait and @spicxybread for the Glinda™️. Figured it would be more fun to have other artists make the portraits instead of me :D

Ref imgs:

Also. This was the original Glinda portrait I was given:

[tetzoro]

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ ‧ ₊ 𓂃 nothing like visiting your not so secret boyfriend’s office for a VERY important meeting !

[floweroflaurelin]

I’m trying to get back into the swing of painting, so as a warmup I made this!! Morgan the dog belongs to my friend @theminecraftbee and is the bestest girl <3

[brodinsons]

fellas...............................

[sorren-sews]

hey all, my art comms are open! i'm unfortunately still between jobs and trying to make ends meet in the meantime. here's what i'm currently offering:

traditional and digital art commissions ($10-17, varies)

anything on my etsy page - right now, it's mostly small plushies as shown below.

my neocities page and this blog have more examples of my work. please dm me here or message me on ko-fi if interested ^^

[m-kyunie]

marching forward through the Gates of Hell

[lunarbun-ships]

a fake screen edit this time bc im deranged for this man ok bye

[odvunir]

closeup details from some recent "bulletin board" / scrapbook / evidence themed commissions ✧.* Queue // TOS // Twitter // Toyhouse // Tumblr // Furaffinity // Discord // Kofi // Monthly Tiers・゜゜・．

[allgremlinart]

the Treksona is inevitable.....

[graboidmilk]

Who Have I Been Praying To This Whole Time ?

Mid-game ChalcanCoyle under the cut

Synopsis; Coyle, after tapping his radio into Chalcanthite's comms, overhears some nightly prayers.

Please remain mindful of the tags.

Thinking about Coyle listening in on Chalcanthite's comms- listening to him change clothes with bated breath, listening to him wash his face with flexing hands, listening to the metal of his brand new prosthetic finally walk to his bed with a tight chest...

With straining ears, he hears his Chalcanthite shifts in a way that's new, a way Coyle has a hard time deciphering. Then, whispered, but loud, as if right against the comm on his wrist,

"Can you hear me ?"

Coyle stares at the car radio with wide eyes behind his shades.

"I don't... I don't know if you can hear me. If anyone can hear me."

The Prime Asset sparks a cigarette.

"I don't even know if I want you to hear me."

Sucking smoke.

"I-... I'm ready to go home, now."

Inhale.

"I'm not... coping."

Exhale.

"I don't think I-... I'm not... built.. for everyone else."

He hears a sniffle.

"Nobody is ever going to want me."

Coyle's jaw clenches.

"I'm not supposed to be out here."

It's almost like he's talking right to him.

"I'm not... healthy. something's wrong with me, now."

It's burning him.

"I'm just like them."

It's fucking burning him up inside.

"I'm going to die, here."

He hears shuffling on the other side of the comm.

"Please, God- at least don't let me die alone."

Coyle almost breaks the dial when he snaps the radio off.

It's quiet.

Another slow drag of his cigarette almost calms the shaking of his hands.

Months go by before it happens again.

it was back to routine up until that point. Back to hearing Chalcanthite scold and belittle his teammates on their lack of efficiency, how much of a liability they were... back to the usual crying and screaming, the sound of Chalcanthite throwing and breaking things, hitting and kicking the walls during the late night. He broke a mirror a few nights ago; Coyle doesn't know if Easterman bothered to replace it.

Regardless, in spite of this change, he listens.

"I think he's right."

He already knows it's gonna be one of those nights; Coyle lights up a fresh fag. He wants to listen, this time. He's ready to hear what his rotting dog has to say. He'd been waiting for another one like this- and he won't shy away from it this time.

"I... I listen to him. I hear him when he talks all that shit,"

A slow inhale.

"Talks about a-... a prison; somewhere safe. Safer than here."

A slow exhale.

"A prison that-... a prison you can't escape. Somewhere built for you, and only you. I think he's got the right idea."

The officer's eyes roam over the radio. He hears fabric shuffle on the other side.

"I'm not healthy. I'm not-... good. I'm dangerous, now. I hurt people."

Coyle flexes his hand, cracking his knuckles.

"But I'm still too... functional. No one else knows. No one else can see just how bad it is."

And how bad is it ? Just how... just how bad is it ?

"Too... too healthy for institution, but..."

Coyle leans forward the slightest bit in his seat.

There's a long moment of silence- one that burns him. He wants to know, he needs to know, but there's not even the sound of movement over the comm. For a moment, Coyle almost thinks that the comm died, and he's about to get up in a riot when-

"... too healthy for institution, but too sick for the outside."

Coyle's chest throbs, and his jaw clenches.

There's another long moment of silence.

He wants to scream. He wants to smash the damn radio to bits, wants to set the car it was connected to on fire- wants to kill the damned motherfucker that suggested he ever tap into those damn comms to begin w-

"So where do I go ?"

His mind halts.

He hears the smallest, wet intake of breath.

A sniffle.

"Where do I go ?"

And then for a moment, there's silence.

He hears the creak of his dog's bed.

He's lying down. He's lying down, and it doesn't seem like he plans on saying anything else, much to the Prime Asset's chagrin. Yet, in spite of his radio station suddenly going quiet, Coyle's mind lingers on his dog's question.

'So where do I go ?'

Coyle lingers, and ponders, and thinks.

Somewhere safe. Somewhere he couldnt hurt anyone.

Somewhere safe. Somewhere that can handle him.

Somewhere safe. Somewhere he can be protected from the ruthless monsters out there.

... No matter how he twists it, his mind keeps supplying the same answer. The same obvious answer.

Where is his dog supposed to go ?

Next to him, of course.

[that-grey-guy]

woe tiny Doug Eiffel be upon ye_

[strwbrinna]

<33

[doesephs]

me: so exited to draw the TMA lineup once i’ve finished commissions

*gets another commission*

me: 😨

[ridaine]

I forgot that doing comms means less time to draw my blorbos </3