duckietf141
duckietf141
Duckie💟🐤
6 posts
Ask anything! request and comms open.20artist
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duckietf141 · 7 months ago
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Simon “Ghost” Riley
Still working on drawing his mask and on my rendering skills but !!! ✍️🛌💖
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duckietf141 · 7 months ago
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mans 🙂‍↕️✍️
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duckietf141 · 7 months ago
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WiP portrait ✍️🙇‍♀️
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duckietf141 · 7 months ago
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🌊🌞Pool day for Captain Price 🙂‍↕️💟
[art by me: same username on twitter!! Follows and such are super appreciated! 🙂‍↕️🙇‍♀️]
(Comms and requests open PM me!!✍️🙂‍↕️)
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duckietf141 · 7 months ago
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Kyle “Gaz” Garrick fanart!! (by me: @DuckieTF141 on twitter!!)
Our underrated king 🙇‍♀️💟👑
PM or comment for commissions or requests!!
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duckietf141 · 9 months ago
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Simon’s home.
Which means he’s glued to your side.
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
The two of you are in a local bookstore, the shop having caught your eye while out on a stroll together, each of you going to your respective shelves to find your preferred genres.
Simon grabs the first novel he thinks sounds interesting, quickly snatching the book by its spine so that he can cross the few steps back to your side.
His eyebrows furrow when he notices how closely you’re holding a book up to your face, your own eyes squinting at the back cover.
“Havin’ trouble there, love?” He asks as he approaches.
“Can’t believe I let myself run out of contact lenses.” You reply, trying your best to decipher the blur of black ink on the pages.
“Could’ve worn your glasses.” He retorts, something he’d already suggested more than once since you ran out of your contacts and had to order new ones.
“You know I only like wearing them at home.”
“But you’re so cute in ‘em.”
“Yeah well, you’re the only one who thinks so.” You mumble under your breath, though Simon hears it of course, the crease in his brow deepening.
“Wha’s that supposed to mean?” He gruffs out.
“I just got teased a bit in school was all Si, typical kid stuff. Just stuck with me I guess, but it’s fine, I have my contact lenses.” You explain to him.
Simon considers your words for a moment, the gears evidently turning in his head, muscular arms crossed over his large chest.
“And do we know where these fuckin’ tossers are at now?”
“Oh my god Simon, don’t-”
“Have we got any names to work with?”
“That is not-”
“Any addresses?”
“You are not about to-”
“Pictures?”
“I was like ten years old-”
“S’alright lovie, we’ll dig up your yearbooks when we get home.” He simply says, plucking your book from your hands and heading towards the register to pay.
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