#my wrt
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So... this is a drabble (do ppl still use that word?) for a future idea i have of Ghoap x reader.... lol (i think reader is gender neutral but i could be wrong ;;) not all of it is planned out so there may be gaps but imma rewrite into a whole piece maybe????
Listen idk im still getting used to putting myself out there LMAO
cw: implied cheating towards the end, neglectful relationship (not simon), married! reader, "the one that got away" mentality (idk if this is a cw but i put here)
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When they parked, the first question was where to go.
The mission has been a bust. Intel was incorrect or outright wrong, gaps missing in reports that they knew would be a problem later--and they were always right. When shit hit the fan, they knew exactly what to do: collect their people and dip before Laswell had anything to say about shooting at Russian military.
The little SUV they stole was hot, the AC blasting but doing little to quelch the need for water or how sweaty they had gotten running despite the possibility of snow. Price had long since left the car, pacing back and forth as he tried to call Kate. Gaz tinkered on the laptop, seeing if any of the files they were able to download or code ripped from its program could indicate a next step, a lead in the right direction.
Soap and Ghost sat in the trunk; its overhead door open to let in the late autumn breeze.
âFuck, another night on the fuckinâ ground,â Soap moaned, leaning back against the inner side of the SUV. âGonna be a rough fu--â
âI know a place,â Simon said quickly, almost too quick. His thumbs, looking too big for the little cracked screen of the iPhone 8 the military gave him (since he refused a smartphone for as long as possible) hit the virtual keyboard. He sent two messages before the machine was buzzing and flashing. He got up, rolled his shoulders, and answered.
Johnny whistled, pulling Gaz from the blue light of his laptop to Simon. His feet paced like Johnâs but quicker; too much energy for such a short call. His eyes didnât seem so harsh as he explained the situation, describing his irritation at the whole thing. When he hung up, his body relaxed only a fraction before turning to the car.
âGot us a place to lay low,â He murmured. âDonât see us getting a hotel from Laswell,â He commented as John cursed and gripped his phone, containing the growing rage for another short while. âReception out here isnât gonna happen âtil the clouds fuck off.â
âThe fuck you mean you know a place?â Soap asked, and Simon tugged his arm to pull him out of the trunk.
He closed the trunk door and shoved Soap into the back seat, he himself taking the driverâs seat. John didnât question their new set-up, sitting in the passengerâs side and pointing the vents at his sweaty skin.
âWeâre stayinâ with a friend. Lives remote, no neighbors, little to no internet,â Ghost hummed, pulling off the side of the road and heading to where his GPS blinked in retaliation for the lack of connection.
The team didnât ask any more questions, too tired from the run to get this shitty little SUV, and instead reflected on the mission and their faults, as if they could have done anything to change the outcome. Bad intel is bad intelâthere isnât a way to fix it or better training to prepare for it. Still, the loss burned their skin like fire ant bites.
At a certain point, the phone stopped giving directions. Gaz questioned it, and Simonâs response made sense: when you live as remote as his friend did, GPS could only take you so far. The rest was muscle memory.
Soap asked him how often he came here. Simon said every time he had to leave the base, get away from the shitty flat he rents only for when heâs off deployments. Most of his possessions, he said, live here. There wasnât anyone he trusted more than this person.
As they pulled down a dirt road, the first they saw was you.
You stood outside the two-floor cabin, standing on a wrap-around porch, your hands on your hips as you watched the shitty, sad SUV park on the dirt driveway. Simon was the first to pop out despite being the driver, taking big steps up to you and the front door. His body was tense only for a moment before you hugged him hello, silent otherwise, and let him trail mud, dirt, and blood into your home.
The rest watched from the car until you waved them up, turning and heading inside. On edge, they headed into the cabin and found it homey. It wasnât what they were imagining from previous safe houses: dirty floors with stains and dust; broken or bare furniture, maybe none at all; thick spider webs and old cooking pots.
No, it was homey-homey. The furniture was worn but comfortable, soft blankets and thick pillows over any cushioned surface available. Rugs lined the wooden floors, making pathways for your socked feet. The windows had stained glass art pieces hanging to let the light shine in rainbows, and the few lights that were on at this point in the evening were small table lamps and a candle burning in the renovated and cozy kitchen. They could smell stew cooking on the stovetop and bread baking in the fire oven.
Simon didnât seem to feel any of the intrusion that they did. His shoes were left by the door, a couple pairs that looked eerily similar lined up on a shoe rack. The coat rack had a mix of grey, Simon-sized hoodies and jackets with fluffy, colorful, graphic jackets that seemed to fit you.
Even as Simon wandered into the kitchen, checking on the stew and bread, he looked like he fit in the small space. He opened the fridge and pulled out a case of ale and a little bottle of wine while you grabbed beer mugs and a few wine glasses. You handed him the bottle openers as he handed you oven mitts for the bread. It was synchronizedâSimon had been here enough before to know how you lived and worked.
âWhoâs this?â Price asked, breaking the spell between you two. Simon glances at you then at Price.
Simon explained, grinning a little as he did, that you were his best friend of nearly 10 years; that you were the person on his emergency contact and his address when he was deployed. He watched as you started serving the stew and he said that you gave him permission to keep a low profile in your home until Laswell could tell them what to do next. There werenât any other options available that wouldnât bring attention to them, unless they wanted to sleep in the woods. Until then, Simon saw no reason to leave this place.
Price wanted to be the one to speak the truthâthat Laswell would probably get back to them by morningâbut as he watched Simon place full bowls on the kitchen table in the next room over while he mumbled to you about grabbing spoons and butter knives, he couldnât. Instead, he nodded and led the rest to the table, enjoying the quiet moments of delicious and hot food that were far better than any MRE they had in their backpacks.
The rest of the night was calm. Johhny was eager to ask questions (and John and Kyle ready to listen), but the time never came. After dinner, you showed them where the two bathrooms were and where the guest shower was located. You took them into the basement where several couches and chairs sat around a stove heating the space and a flatscreen with VHS and DVD players. A few retro gaming consoles sat displayed on the TV stand. Pointing out the blankets, comforters, and pillows on one of the couches, you said that the laundry room was in the little space off to the side in case they wanted fresh clothes. Afterwards, you thanked them for keeping the place clean and headed up to the master bedroom.
It didnât shock any of them when Simon trailed behind you.
Clean, fed, and exhausted, the interrogations began the next morning when you wandered downstairs in one of Simonâs shirts, putting sausage in a cast iron skillet for breakfast. Johnny, now awake and ready to annoy, sat in the kitchen and asked you question after question as you answered honestly.
âWhy do you live out here?â
âItâs private.â
âDo you like it here?â
âYes. Otherwise, I would move.â
âWhere do you work?â
âDonât need to.â
âWhy donât you need to work?â
âI have money.â
âHowâd you get it?â
â...Si, usually.â
Johnny smirked like a fox when he thought he caught you, but you just giggle at his obsessive nature and finish up cooking. Simon comes down nearly 30 minutes later, settling beside you in the kitchen as he brews tea and coffee. His hands wandered every now and again to your arms, your side, a hand on your lower back as he moves around the kitchenâwhich makes Johnnyâs eyes boggle. How could Simon be keeping such a sweet thing so hidden? Why is he lying by saying a âfriendâ?
It wasnât until later, when the morning blurred into afternoon, that they understood why.
When he arrived, Simonâs mood soured while yours grew sweeter, if only for a moment. You kissed the mystery man at the door and told him the situation, to which he didnât seem to mind. He headed upstairs, practically ignoring your silent requests for tender affection to shower. You sulked a little, trying to put on a brave face as you started on lunch. Simon was there, then, chatting with you more than he did anyone as you prepared subs and fries. They could hear your angelic rings of laughter as he calmed you into your previously happy self.
When the man came back down, he ordered you to grab him a beer, and you did so without a second thought. He demanded you grab the remote, whined when it wasnât working (âAs always,â Simon later grumbled), and took out his frustration on you. He berated your meal with backhanded compliments. He ignored your requests for napkins or salt to finish his food and leave for the shed outside, dirty plate and crumbs left on the table.
You sighed as he left, frowning and watching him disappear into the wooden shed. Then Simon was there again, taking up his seat beside you and set up to finish eating there. His eyes glanced at you, cracking piss-poor dad jokes to get your little voice to chuckle as you finished eatingâmaybe not as much as Simon thought you should, as he later shoved cut-up plum and cheese squares into your face while the two of you sat on the wrap-around porch and caught up over tea.
John wasnât sure what to do; Gaz and Soap were even more lost. It was so clear, then it was so confusing. It wasnât until dinner was over and the team was sitting by a little bonfire, you and your apparent husband off to bed for the night, that they asked Simon.
âWho is that, really?â John asked.
â...I dunno. Thought we were somethinâ, then we werenât. I knew the world wouldnât wait for me forever. Now... now I have this.â
âYou give âem money?â Johnny, now, asked.
âHave to. Stupid fucker blows it all at casinos or fucking hides it. Heâll make it a problem if things arenât paid on time when heâs the jackass ruining the credit score. Donât know for sure, but I think the fucker might get close to physical when Iâm not here. Thinkinâ bought putting cameras around just to make sure.â
âSo... what? Is this just how youâll spend the rest of your life? Donât think youâll need to do much convincing, that bastard doesnât care,â Kyle said, leaning back in his seat.
âHe doesnât. Our jobs are similar, heâs just in construction. Leave for a while, come back for a little bit, and then leave again. The only difference between that bloke and me is that I like being here. But...â
He thinks to you: how happy you were to date the jackass, playing with your hair nervously; how you glowed with something primal and sensual after he showed you âthe best night of your life,â even if youâd go back on your words later when the love-bomb spell wore off; how he proposed so sloppily yet you ate it up like candy because no one had ever treated you so sweetly. It didnât matter that he got so drunk at the wedding he puked on your dress or that Simon swore he saw the moron kissing another girl at a party but couldnât be the one to ruin you by telling the truth. Your husband was romantic, you said, but all Simon saw were red flags and a growing need to rearrange the fuckerâs teeth.
âBut I canât destroy happiness I donât understand.â
âI donât think whatâs going on is âhappinessâ...â Johnny said, opening another bottle. âMore like... I dunno, a lack of respect? Not knowing what happiness really is?â He bit his lip before clicking his tongue in triumph. âNo, no, itâs complacency. Nothing bad can happen if nothinâ changes.â
Simon hums, smoking a cigarette and watching the flames of the fire.
Kyle glanced at Price, who cleared his throat for a second. âSimon, Iâm not usually one for this kind of thing, but--â
âI know, need to get over it,â Simon snapped, smoking down the cigarette into a nub before throwing it into the firepit.
Price frowned. âI think it might be the opposite.â
âIâm not destroying a family.â
âThere isnât a family, Ghost, just two people who are married and donât do shit together,â Johnny said. âHe doesnât seem to be in the picture. How often is this place empty? Thereâre no photos of them on the wall. He didnât seem happy to see his own partner. They donât even have kids.â
Simon frowns. âI know. Itâs the main complaint... lyinâ âbout what he wants.â
âSo then... take âem,â Johnny said, Kyle rolling his eyes. âIt doesnât seem like anyoneâs holding on too tight.â
Simon didnât speak again that night. He headed upstairs when the rest departed for the basement. The next day, the man was kissing you good-bye as the team came upstairs. You looked sad, miserable even, and followed him outside. The two of you spoke, but he snapped at you before heading to the car, ignoring your whines for a last kiss. He drove off and you came back inside, starting breakfast in silence again.
When Simon came down, he knew. He pushed John, Kyle, and Johnny to the basement so he could hold you and comfort you. You cried hard into his chest, hiccupping and sobbing as you whined about his disregard for your comfortâthat he didnât care enough to kiss you goodbye again when you asked him if this was the last time heâd leave you.
Simon hated it because himself in your lover. He imagined it before: leaving for a deployment and seeing your round teary eyes as he packed. Heâd stop, instead picking you up to kiss you and lay you on the bed, proving that he loved you so much more than you knew. Maybe he wouldnât even be able to leave if you cried like you had in the past.
No, he wouldnât. Heâd see your face and feel the fear you have of losing him. Heâd leave his bags in the bedroom to pull you close to the couch, feeling over your skin like heâs been dying to do since he met you in that dirty dive bar when you both were in your early 20s. Heâd ignore phone calls from Price or Laswell or any other CO to take you out for dinner and fuck you in the back of his truck like you always giggled about. Heâd shower with you when you came home, wash your hair and realize your scent is all around him, not just the quick perfume he gets every time you pass by.
Would he mourn the death of his career? Probably notânot if you were pressed to his side, lips kissing his jaw and chin as he held your legs in his lap. (If he was lucky, maybe even pregnant.) Every metal, award, trophy... itâd dull the moment you stood beside it, the moment his brain conjured up your image in lieu of polished gold. Heâd put on his crisp, shiny-adorned uniform one last time for your wedding. You always said the fabric made him look so regal.
It wasnât a surprise when the next morning you seemed gloomy. You tried to play it off, smiling when talking to someone before retreating back into yourself, and John could tell how much it hurt Simon. He trailed behind you like a kitten, watching from doorways to make sure the waterworks hadnât started. When they did, he tugged you to the master bedroom and let you curl up into the blankets and sob. Simon rubbed your back, a silent yet strong barrier between you and loneliness.
You asked him what you should doâhow could you keep loving a man who wonât treat you like a person? Who wonât see you as anything but a hole to fuck when he comes home before leaving again? He wasnât soft like Simon, you said, and Simon felt conflicted.
He wasnât soft. No one else got to see the affection he rarely used, felt his hands doing anything other than breaking and taking. He towered over men far weaker than him. He didnât feel remorseful for the pain he caused to those who deserved it and maybe even the ones who didnât. He made himself built for war, yet you cried into his lap and called him a softie.
Maybe he wasâbut only for you. You were just an exception.
He couldnât tell if it was the conversation from the previous night or your red cheeks and puffy eyes that did it for him. He couldnât bare letting you fall apart over an ugly motherfucker like your husband. He calmed you, pulling your limp body into his lap. His arms around you felt more like a strait jacket than a hug, but you took it readily. Your fingers gripped his shirt, and he truly realized the effect you had on him. Tilting your chin up, he hummed a soft apology before pressing his lips to yours, keeping his hand on your jaw.
Maybe, after that, it was a good thing the bedroom door was locked. Maybe it took a few days for you to completely move forward, legal papers signed and delivered at the little post office in town, 25 minutes from your cabin. Maybe Simon was there, his hands and lips unable to leave your skin for longer than a minute. Maybe, as he left with Laswellâs next instructions, he took you upstairs one last time and promised to be back later, when he was doneâthat heâd come back and take you to the courthouse that same evening, paying a stranger to watch you exchange vows if Johnny didnât tag along like he figured he would, and youâd never feel lonely again.
Imagine your surprise when he showed up three months later and he kept his wordâwith a certain loud Scot in tow, too.
#simon âghostâ riley x fem! reader#simon âghostâ riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#reader could be gender neutral??? idk lol mb#cod mw2#cod mwii#my wrt#wrt#write
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The Parkour Villain
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I made a sonic oc! Her name is phoebe and sheâs a pangolin
@professor-gayass the cycle continues
#sonic the hedgehog#sonic#sth#oc stuff#sonic oc#sonic original character#god strike me down#phoebe the pangolin#My wrt#traditional art#character design#doodles#Gardentop plaza#Anthro
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the restrained sniffer
#a doodley#anthro#furry#this 100% works more with their human forms but i am not immune to funny kitty#though i guess ''to wear'' doubles as like wearing.... it as a blanket...#sorry its so awkwardly broken up...tumblr allows so many pics so i get to make sure all the nice details are front and center#anyway im an overexplainer and in the past ive gotten so nervous about Action in my little comics#like. how will people know a character did [thing] if i dont show them doing it!!!!!#so this was also a mini exercise in omitting action...like i didnt waste panels drawing talon pulling the shirt on#or al putting on his horn toppers#finally; i had another related doodle idea i never drew out but might now if i remember to....#but wrt smunker's pillowcase and a resulting incident#point being Talon is a smell enjoyer...
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"IN/OUT" Three layer lithograph, 12x17, 2023
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Really fucked up that, when theyâre young, Patrick and Art are SO tactile with each other, so comfortable sharing the same space. Art lets Patrick touch him and move him and physically overwhelm him and easily acquiesces to it, if not outright enjoys it.
Then in the present, theyâve been so far out of each otherâs orbit for so long, held such animosity that when they have their moment alone in the sauna, Art physically recoils from Patrickâs close proximity! Itâs so painful to watch because even as Patrickâs goading him, itâs so obvious he wants to be able to get back into Artâs space. But Art has erected all these walls around himself, he refuses to give Patrick an inch or even admit to missing how close they used to be!
AND THEN we see Art and Tashi later and he wants her to hold him, to be gentle with him, and just TOUCH him. Like, he does miss that kind of close physical contact! He either doesnât know how to ask for it or is uncomfortable being that openly vulnerable. Worth noting that he pretty much always defers to Tashi in regard to initiating physical intimacy (with their first kiss, though he does state his desire, SHE has to be the one to make the first move). And it seems pretty obvious that Tashi herself isnât comfortable providing that intimacy, whereas Patrick actively seeks to provide it (the hug/forehead kiss after their win together in the early years, dragging the stool closer to him).
Art has tried very hard to act like he doesnât need physical affection and even though his discipline and devotion to Tashi has made him a stronger tennis player, itâs made him a hollow person, which, in turn, has kept him from becoming a GREAT tennis player.
All of this, of course, is why the ending hits so damn hard.
#challengers#challengers spoilers#art donaldson#unfortunately i have once again zeroed in on the most repressed character and made them my favorite#lol @ all the people saying heâs a manipulative snake: thatâs part of what makes him great!#i think a fair amount of that manipulation or attempts at it come from a fear of loss and being alone#if he has to lose one to keep the other heâll do it because itâs better than being left behind#hoo boy yet another character trait my fucked up faves have in common đŹ#letâs not even get into how tashi AND patrick are trying to do right by him#tashi by making it so he can retire with a career to be proud of#patrick (who was pissed on artâs behalf wrt throwing the match) by laying all his cards on the table (court)#and giving art what he needed to play a great fucking game#thereâs a whole other post to be written about how tashi and patrick handle art in similar ways#specifically that he submits to them so easily they take charge of him manipulate him the ways they want#good lord i need to see this movie again#or not might not be conducive to keeping my brain from melting out my ears lol
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siblings in horror: ride-or-die edition
the strangers: prey at night | nope | house of wax | the lost boys
codependent | blood-soaked | haunted | damned | dumb-ass
#alternative title: survivor's club#feel the need to put a huge disclaimer wrt the respective quality of these movies#watch nope for scares w excellent depth. watch house of wax to see chad michael murray fight to the death on a bed made of peanut butter.#the strangers: prey at night#nope 2022#house of wax#the lost boys#horror#my art#siblings in horror
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Once you stop thinking about queer people's labels as strict indications of what's in their pants and who they do/don't bed and instead view queer people's labels as how they interact with the world, you'll find that you'll get along with queer people better and treat them better, I think.
#queer#lgbt#lgbtq#like of course some people use labels in the way i described first and i don't think that's inherently bad...#...but like. as a trans person i hate when people try to like... use my labels (or their labels they force on me) to say what's in my pants#i think there's a fone line between somebody using a label in the first way i described and somebody forcing their understanding of other...#...people onto them. like.#i think it can be a small shift in thought but it's helpful#it reminds me of the shirt that went around of the boston dyke march (<3) shirt design...#...which basically listed who was welcomed at the march and it was a super long list#if anybody is wondering what i'm talking about wrt the last two tags i have the image on hand
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top 5 times tommy kinard was husband-shaped
turns out i've got opinions about this.
5. attending a cowboy funeral (8x05)
you don't watch your beboiled boyfriend give a eulogy to a 200-year-old cowboy mummy in a full suit if you're not in it for the long haul. this is a show of commitment on the same level as promise rings.
4. getting that coffee (7x05)
who but a future husband would look at buck like this after being caught in the blast radius of his self-destruction on a first date?
3. bringing buck breakfast 'in bed' (8x05)
8x05 gave and gave and gave with acts of service tommy. you just know he set his alarm early enough so he knew he'd be up before buck, and he set his phone to vibrate so buck wouldn't hear it. he spoils his man and i love to see it.
2. taking care of buck (8x05)
fluffing his pillow (not a euphemism). changing his ice pack. sleeping on the couch with the smallest blanket in the world just so he'd be right there in case buck needed something in the middle of the night. related to the last entry, but disinct enough to deserve its own mention.
1. the loft dinner (7x10)
look. this is it for me. this is the moment that made me go oh. he is husband-shaped. i think this moment in particular gets overlooked because it immediately precedes tommy giving buck the green light to call him daddy, but look how soft he is! how concerned and caring - how attentive, to notice that buck was feeling off! this moment is unbeatable to me, but if the writers want to take that as a challenge, well, i certainly won't stop them.
#rose.txt#bucktommy#tommy kinard#my main criteria for husband shapedness wrt tommy are Soft. Sweet. and So so beautiful#shoutout to the WONDERFUL AND SUPREMELY GENEROUS GIFMAKERS who share their creations with us!!
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âIf there is anyone here, who were to finish the jobâput me downâŚ.i remember thinking: I hope itâs Seedling. I hope itâs Orym.â
#LIKE#YALL PLS IM SOBBING#CATCH UP ON CRIT ROLE I thought ITLL BE FINE#just!!!!#the trust Laudna has that Orym would be kind to her in death#that he could do ��what needs to be done#and thatâs what Keyleth said to Orym too wrt to killing the Bells Hells if they turned against the rest#I just#pls let this man rest#and Laudna! ugh the quiet way she suffers and holds her pain close#sacrifices herself to power to be able to protect Imogen#anyways#I will not recover#my art#artist of tumblr#tumblr artist#fanart#colored pencils#sketchbook#critical role fanart#cr fanart#critical role#bells hells#orym of the air ashari#cr orym#cr laudna#laudna#c3 ep 102#is it a spoiler if Iâm behind?#gonna say no
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not dead not alive but a secret third thing
#dragon age#dao#my ocs#ailill mahariel#my special little guy who is dead#iirc the Lore says the blight as a disease varies wrt effects#so i think it's feasible my weak and sickly victorian orphan of a man could have begun ghoulification in like a week#anyway. wardens can have a little tapetum lucidum as a treat#also shoutout to the person who tagged my last post w them âGOTH ELF GOTH ELF GOTH ELFâ u understand my vision#like this feels very Edgy OC TM but you know what Iâm leaning into it Iâm embracing it#my art
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âTake my handâ pages 5-11
1 - day 2 - truth - 3
#nmweek23#narumitsu#wrightworth#phoenix wright#miles edgeworth#i spent all yesterday shading and lettering these your boy is so tired BUT IT WAS WORTH IT#in which i cram way too much into way too little and yet way too many pages for a single day#my sincerest apologies to them on their day but i will make it up to them i PROMISE#âprove itâ youâll NEVER GUESS what happens next :^))))) (<-guy who is extremely predictable)#phoenix is so strong because if miles looked at me like that iâd be going crazy and im like a known enemy of edgeworth#see you guys in like 5-7 business days on part 3 o7#fan art#aa#fan comic#rendevok#OH OH ALSO thereâs like a whole fucking essay i could write about these pages esp wrt light and also The Hands but youll have to ask for it#just know that if you see something⌠there was probably a reason for it!#ok thats it fr this time
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little Kitten Burst doodles because i love it and think about it a lot
pspspspspspspsps play kitten burst
#kitten burst#hapi#s4br#i wish i could draw something beautiful to show how much i love and appreciate this game but i'm feeling very stagnant wrt art atm#but still i feel compelled to doodle the characters and emotions that live in my head now thanks to this game#it has an excellent soundtrack and is super fun but the dialogue and characters are just.... they feel so personal to me
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Kidpix commission for @facelessoldgargoyle! (character belongs to me)
#been a hot sec since i posted any OC art so i'm letting this skip ahead of the rest of this batch#had a lot of fun messing around with layering in this one!#commissions#art#digital art#kid pix deluxe 4#my OCs#planetary system depicted should not be taken as canon to this setting yet I'm still planning it#the plot doesn't involve space travel or anything but the in-universe astronomy is important to the cultures of the setting#so I still want it to be decently realistic wrt what phenomena can occur and how often#therefore it is very much subject to change! if you know any good resources for planning or visualizing that kind of stuff hmu
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Phew! This was an endeavour! But Iâve wanted to draw the twins talking to all the force ghosts we know of for a while now, so here they are.
#star wars#anakin skywalker#leia organa#luke skywalker#master yoda#obi wan kenobi#qui-gon jinn#star wars fanart#obi-wan kenobi#qui gon jinn#skywalker twins#disaster lineage#my art#Anakin is hiding because Leia would punch him ghost or no ghost if she saw him#i have thought about Leia talking to Ben in general and Qui-Gon is just there in my head if Obi-Wan is lol#i went for recognisable rather than timeline accuracy wrt the twins' looks
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Loser gf reader x fratboy Gojo Satoru
đ§đ¨đđđŹ. Iâm such a sucker for loser gf reader and fratboy gojo
You always wondered what Gojo saw in you. He was the life of every party, the guy everyone wanted to be or be with. You, on the other hand, were more comfortable in the quiet corners of the library, nose buried in a book. Your worlds couldn't have been more different, yet here you were, his hand intertwined with yours as he led you into another one of his infamous frat parties.
"Stick with me, alright?" Gojo grinned down at you, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "I won't let any of these idiots bother you."
You nodded, trying to ignore the glances and whispers from the crowd. It was always the sameâpeople wondering why the most popular guy on campus was with someone like you. But Gojo never seemed to care about their opinions. He was always unabashedly himself, and somehow, that included being with you.
As the night wore on, you found yourself on the couch, sipping on a soda while Gojo mingled. He'd check on you every few minutes, his smile never faltering. But even in a room full of people, you felt alone.
"Hey, you're Gojo's girlfriend, right?" A girl with long, blonde hair and a tight dress sat down next to you, her gaze appraising. "I'm Mina. I've heard a lot about you."
"Hi," you replied, feeling a bit wary. Mina's smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"You're so lucky," she said, leaning closer. "I mean, Gojo is such a catch. I can't believe heâs dating someone like you."
Before you could respond, Mina stood up and sauntered over to Gojo, placing a hand on his arm. You watched as she leaned in, whispering something in his ear. Gojo laughed, but when he saw the look on your face, his expression changed.
"Excuse me," he said to Mina, brushing her hand off and making his way back to you. "You okay?"
You nodded, trying to hide your discomfort. "Yeah, just not really my scene, you know?"
He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "I know. But I like having you here with me. Makes it more fun."
"Really?" You raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. "You don't think I'm...I don't know, bringing you down?"
Gojo's expression softened. "Never. You keep me grounded, you know that? Besides, I like showing off my amazing girlfriend to everyone."
A blush crept up your cheeks. "I'm not amazing, Satoru."
"Yeah, you are," he said firmly, pulling you closer. "You put up with my crazy ass. That's pretty amazing to me."
As if on cue, another girl approached, giggling and twirling her hair. "Gojo! Come dance with me!" she insisted, grabbing his hand.
He gently but firmly removed her hand from his. "Sorry, I'm with my girlfriend," he said, nodding toward you. The girl's smile faltered, and she walked away, pouting.
You laughed, feeling the tension melt away. Maybe you didn't quite fit into Gojo's world, but he made you feel like you belonged. And that was enough.
"Come on," Gojo said, standing up and pulling you with him. "Let's get out of here. I know a place where we can actually talk without shouting."
You smiled, letting him lead the way. As long as you were with Gojo, you knew you'd be okay. And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to see what he saw in you.
Š fvsm4x 2023/4 : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.
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