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[frowardthinker]

AHAHA my campus is closed bc of weatherrrr

Also it's only closed for two days, and everyone is buying stuff like it's Armageddon?

I need two meals a day queen. I have leftovers in my mini fridge. I bought a pack of hotpockets and a microwave dinner, my 4'11 ass will be fine.

Anyways, I will have some more time for art, but I don't have my drawing tablet. I may be drawing HOA fanart on actual paper.

[littlemousejelly]

[inkskinned]

i'm still trying to piece together the truth of it. when you left, you said: feel free to spin this narrative however you want. i have no idea if you were being cruel or if you just genuinely don't remember what you've done to me.

it's hard because i'd done so much of the work for you. i had seen the parts that flaked off, the rust underneath. i started separating you into two people - the one i loved, and the one who hurt me. i had this fantasy version of you - my partner - and then i had this stranger, a third person who would show up randomly to shatter me. i am deliriously glad i'm no longer with "the stranger". i miss the gentle (unreal?) "other" you terribly.

at first, i was so strict about my boundaries. i remember telling you to get the fuck out of my house if you were going to talk to me like that. by the end: i would justify your behavior for you, accepting even your mistreatment as "my fault" in the grand scheme. i look back on the person i was before you - smart, independent, confident - and i feel a strange sense of detachment. i don't even recognize me.

even in one of our last conversations, you said: if you want a partner that always talks warmly to you, find someone else. there was a time that a comment like that would have made me leave. and instead, somehow, i just placidly accepted that kind of thing. you were literally telling me that i wasn't allowed to have a reaction to your cruelty - and i just took it, because you'd so fully turned things around on me.

when people are faced with irrationality, a rational brain tries to make sense of it. this is the trap. they're lovely in the morning, gentle and blue-eyed and sweet. like nothing even happened, they breeze around the house and kiss you on the mouth. but at night; who is that? they snap almost randomly; flying into an impotent rage about just-about-anything. it just doesn't make sense. so the problem must be me, and my brain, and how i think.

the traumatized brain just wants peace. so maybe i'm misremembering. maybe you were just having a bad day. maybe it's actually me.

you eventually would fully turn on me and start implying that i am the bad actor in our relationship. that's what happens, right? that's literally in the playbook. you went to therapy for all of a month, told her a half-truth, co-opted therapyspeak. you figured out how to reframe your actions as "seeking peace." any time i stood my ground, i was "gaslighting." when i asked you to be more gentle, you said i was "tone policing." you said, randomly, i had emotionally manipulated you - i still have no idea what that's even specifically referring to. maybe my consistent requests for calmness and empathy?

and while i literally know better, and i'm sitting here, trained by you, thinking: wait, fuck. was i actually the person you made me out to be?

and the thing that scares me is that i literally do not know if you ever actually saw what you were doing to me. when you'd tell me how you remember arguments, you'd always summarize them in a way where you come off as gentle and easy: "i was trying to set an important boundary." what had actually happened was 15 minutes of you shouting at me i know you did something shady, just admit it already. eventually you'd say my reaction to your shouting (when i finally reacted, which usually happened around hour three) was inevitably "disappointing" and "another way i'm silencing your feelings."

how many times did i ask you - beg you - to just take accountability? looking back, i don't think i ever heard you say: you're right. the way i talked to you was wrong of me.

i am trying to tie together the two people into a full version of you in my head. yes, you made my coffee and made me laugh and spent hours on the phone with me. and yes - you would scream at me until i had to run away and hide behind something.

i wish i did have a narrative i could pull out and shape to my whim. i wish i did have some semblance of reality. instead i just stand here, strange and vibrating, wondering: what the fuck just happened?

[aziscribs]

Here's the man of the hour...

Diomedes of Argos ✨⚔️

Here's a better look at the full body if you want it <3

anyway, you know the drill, here's the detail dump after the cut!! vv

HIS HAIR + GROOMING - his mane of dirty blonde hair, not unlike a lion's mane 🦁! Diomedes is likened to a lion in battle many times in the Iliad, and upon my first uninfluenced impression of him, I could NOT get the lion imagery out of my head. I'm very aware that boars and albatrosses are more commonly associated with him, but I just got too attached to liomedes!! yea he has a weird mix of locs and free hair, don't ask me how it works it just does okay NONE OF MY DESIGNS ARE EVER REALISTIC yall should know this by now lolll... you might also notice though that his facial hair is in a similar shape to that of boar tusks 🐗✨, of course I had to pay homage yall!!

THE HELL ARE THOSE GOLDEN MARKS? - they're ichor, you silly goose!!! in book 5, Diomedes has a moment of aristeia, where he wounds both Aphrodite and Ares in battle ⚔️🩸✨! there's a common perception that ichor marks are permanent and similar to burn scars, and I think that's so damn cool, so he's got some marks on his upper chest from Aphrodite's ichor splashing down his cuirass, and his palms are stained with ichor from Ares + vigorously trying to scrub the marks off himself and his spear lol (I imagine it kinda stains the wrinkles and lines in his palms, but yall know I cant be bothered to draw detailed hands like that). ON THE TOPIC OF SCARS, peep Pandarus' arrow scar in his shoulder + oath scar on his palm that's barely visible lol ‼️ In the same vein, he's got mismatched eyes 👁️🫦🧿 from Athena's blessing of sight to him (in book 5, Athena blesses him to be able to tell the difference between gods and mortals!)

BOAR EMBLEM + BOAR TUSKS & SKIN & FUR + OWL FEATHER + ALBATROSS FEATHERS & PIN - kinda speaks for itself? boar cause.. tydeus 🐗, owl feather cause athena loves that guy 🦉, and just a couple of albatross nods here and there for now 🪽. I like to imagine Dio's life in stages of animals-- as a kid (epigoni) he's a boar, still trying to emulate his father, in the war he's a lion, finding his own footing and also being freaking insane, and after that (Italy) he's an albatross (as he's usually described as then). In the time period of the Iliad, he'd be a nice in between of all of this, thus the mix of kinda all of those symbols!

YOU READ THROUGH ALL THAT???? - okay congrats thanks for sticking around this long!! here's an extra hc just for you-- the soles on the bottoms of his shoes have paw pads on them 🐾! they help to cover his tracks, cause he's a smart boy like that! Odysseus isn't the only champion of Athena who has tricks up his sleeve! that's definitely the only reason and it isn't mostly a decision I made cause vibes + cute..... I'll try to include this feature in future drawings, though it's hard to show LOLLL, for now just know that the little paw prints all over the Achaean camp aren't from some cute lil puppy padding around but actually from a full grown ass man

this guy is long overdue! I've adored Diomedes ever since I first read the Iliad (my friends can attest to this I am so annoying to them about him)... I was really disappointed joining the Greek myth fandom to see that so FEW people liked, or even knew about this guy! buttttt diving deeper into the fandom + over time, I found more and more like-minded people who are just as (if not sometimes even more) insane about him as I am! and i've met so many lovely friends through that too 🩷🩷🫂‼️

thank you again for your love and time <3 you can look forward to more designs! I love adding little details into my designs, and there's a couple I might have missed out even with all this rambling, so if you can spot them they're a little treat for you hehe. again if yall notice anything I might not have noticed before, do lmk so I can pretend like that was my intention with the design all along lol hehe I love you all! thank uuuu!!! 🩷🩷🩷

[racc0jello]

haze

[capuccinodoll]

Super early EARLY announcement because I’m anxious and I can’t wait to share this news with you

Well, it’s official: tba is going to become a real book. I’ve been working on it for a little while (not that long, but long enough for the anxiety to kick in hehe). I’ve received so so many messages from some of you saying you’d love for the story to be an actual book and well, now it’s GOING TO BE!!! AAAA

That means a lot of things. I’ll be changing some details, of course; the characters’ names, for example, and the narration will switch to first person. There’s a lot (A LOT) of work ahead, and it probably won’t be ready for many many months. In the meantime, I’ll keep updating the fic until the very end of it.

In short, I don't know when this project will be ready, but it’s already in motion. And that makes me really REALLY happy.

So, here’s a little sneak peek of what the book will be like <3

I LOVE YOU <3333

[bebemoon]

happy valentine's day !! | from manga "nana" by ai yazawa<3

[fiendishartist2]

guy who doesnt dance x guy who will drag you onto the dance floor

[soupfather]

Cafe au doodles

[rinirosed]

me and bro if we worked at big ron’s:

[gatorsvault]

sub-ish Simon Riley x drunk!reader

gonna go ahead and say this is fem!reader because i base my writing off me, afab.. but i don’t directly mention anything gender specific.

Simon Riley who’s always so intimidating. i mean christ, the fucker literally wears a human skull on his missions. puts the fear of every god imaginable into his enemies. one of the quotes soap heard was ‘you’re telling me, you see that big boy with the skull face and you’re not gonna start sweating?’ (he decided to not tell his lieutenant about that—figured it’d boost his ego too much.)

and honestly? yeah. he was a massive fucking tank—a bit cold, ruthless. he’s done a lot he’s not proud of.

but gods help him.

you came back to the base drunk. a lot of rounds of too many drinks with friends. you’ve never actually confirmed that simon likes you, but he’s pretty obvious about it. stares that linger, always finding a way to spend time with you. he even puts you two on missions together. and let’s be real—you know you’re stunning, who wouldn’t like you?

so when you come back to base, instead of heading straight for your bed to sleep, you look for simon ghost riley. Never in his room at reasonable times of the night, you head to the lounge on the way to his office. not there either, but he was. drops of milk on the counter and sugar packets not properly thrown away. someone would clean it up later; you couldn’t care. you were shitfaced.

knocking on his door, he opens it, not expecting to see you in such a.. promiscuous outfit. fuck did you look good. and your behavior didn’t make the tightening in his pants fade any faster, leaning into him, hooded eyes that didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything he said.

“whatcha doin tonight, simon?”

he almost came in his pants just from his name on your tongue.

“uhm. just. finishing up intel reports from last week. few status changes here and there..”

he rambled on, but you weren’t really listening. you just wanted to see his lips move. he was flustered, a very observant man. noticed the way your hips swayed as you walked towards him, your lips coated in whatever gloss you’d been using. you weren’t here to talk. you were here for more.

unfortunately he wasn’t a monster, and knowing you were drunk really discouraged him. every advance you made was shut down, which you heavily disliked.

“where’s your room, simon?” you weren’t annoyed… just… frustrated.

“it’s uhm. i can show you.. just.. why?”

you simply gave him a look. one that he knew means he was more dense than brick wall for asking. eventually he led the way, very obviously nervous. you followed behind, almost skipping with how happy you were.

and once you got there? you didn’t give him any time to think. as soon as the door closed your lips were on his, one hand on his chest as the other rested on the back of his head. you kicked off your shoes, dragging him to his couch. you shoved him back and he was blushing. genuinely red. you straddled him, realizing he was more than just shy..

“oh? ‘ve hardly even touched you..”

he was embarrassed, but not ashamed enough to not want to your lips back on his—so his hands pulled you into him by the hips, practically begging for more..

who are you to refuse?

a/n: hi this one has been in my drafts and i finished it so here you go thanks okay bye

a/n pt 2: i finished this last night and i thought i hit post and i did not in fact hit post.

[pixellangel]

finally made some more up-to-date art of the mc of my rpgmaker game, magical girl: grim reaper!! her name is yurei, and she's a magical girl who continues serving sparkly justice after she dies by becoming the grim reaper :3

[jamal127]

Something in the rain

Gojo x reader, academic rivals

Word count: 2.2k

Authors note: Based on this request! Not proofread

In a bustling street corner of Tokyo, a young woman named Y/N sat at a small, weathered café, sipping her hot matcha latte. Her eyes were fixed on the pedestrians passing by, each one a story waiting to unfold. She had always loved people-watching, finding comfort in the anonymity and predictability of the city life. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the next-door bakery, mixing with the aroma of sizzling yakisoba from the food cart across the street. A soft breeze played with her hair, hinting at the approaching spring.

Y/N was an ambitious academic, her nose always buried in a book or her laptop. Her field of expertise was the psychology of human relationships, specifically the complex dance of attraction and repulsion that often existed between rivals. Little did she know that the very subject of her latest paper would soon walk into her life in the form of Gojo Satoru, a fellow scholar and her new neighbor.

Their first encounter was less than ideal. Gojo, with his piercing blue eyes and unruly white hair, sailed through the café door like he owned the place. His tall, lanky frame was a stark contrast to the cozy, intimate setting, and his arrogant demeanor was palpable. He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a brief second before dismissing her and claiming the table next to hers. She felt a twinge of annoyance at his presumptuousness but tried to focus on her work.

As she typed away on her laptop, the sound of his voice grew louder. He was speaking to the barista, a young girl who looked visibly intimidated by his overbearing presence. He was arguing about the specific temperature at which his coffee should be served, his voice carrying an undertone of condescension. Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes and sigh, her fingers pausing mid-sentence. She had always found it fascinating how certain people could command a room without even trying.

Their eyes met again as he settled into his chair, and she felt a strange mix of irritation and intrigue. He took a sip of his coffee, grimacing at the taste before slamming it down on the table. She couldn't resist the urge to smirk at his dramatic display. "Your coffee not to your liking?" she quipped, her voice a sweet blend of curiosity and sarcasm.

Gojo looked up, his eyes narrowing at her. "It's lukewarm," he grumbled, not bothering to hide his disdain.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh lightly. "Maybe you should've specified that when you ordered?" she suggested, her voice teasing.

Gojo's eyes flashed with something akin to surprise before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe I should've," he conceded, his voice smooth as silk. "But where's the fun in that?"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Their rivalry began in earnest at a local academic symposium, where both had been invited to present their research. Y/N had spent weeks preparing a paper on the psychological underpinnings of rivalry and its effect on collaboration. Gojo, on the other hand, was known for his cutting-edge work on the cognitive patterns of the elite. As they took the stage, the tension between them was palpable, a silent challenge that electrified the air.

Their presentations were flawless, meticulously crafted to showcase their intellect and prowess in their respective fields. As they stepped down from the podium, the room buzzed with anticipation for the Q&A session. The first question directed at Y/N was about the potential for growth within a competitive framework, and she delivered a well-reasoned response. Her eyes flicked over to Gojo as she emphasized the need for mutual respect and understanding.

Next, Gojo was asked a question about the limitations of his research. Without missing a beat, he acknowledged the criticisms and presented a compelling rebuttal that had the audience nodding in agreement. Yet, as he spoke, his gaze remained on Y/N, a silent challenge in his eyes. When it was her turn to ask a question, she stood and approached the microphone, her heart racing. She knew this was the moment to establish her dominance.

"Your work on cognitive patterns is fascinating, Gojo-san," she began, her tone cool and composed. "However, I can't help but wonder if there's not a darker side to such intense focus on individual superiority. Does it not risk stifling creativity and collaboration?"

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening into a full-fledged smile. "Ah, Y/N-san," he drawled, using her surname in a deliberate power play. "Always eager to dissect the human psyche, aren't we?" He took a moment to gather his thoughts before delivering his response with the grace of a seasoned debater. "While I appreciate your concern for the collective, my research suggests that true innovation often arises from a clash of ideas between equally matched adversaries. The drive to outperform can be a catalyst for growth."

The crowd murmured, clearly torn between the two academics' differing viewpoints. Y/N felt a spark of frustration but knew she had to keep her cool. She took a deep breath and stepped up to the podium once more. "And what of the emotional toll such a cutthroat environment can take?" she asked, her voice steady. "How does that affect the individuals involved?"

Gojo's smile didn't waver. "Emotions are merely data points in the grand scheme of things," he said dismissively. "They can be managed, just like any other aspect of the human condition."

Y/N felt a surge of indignation at his cold analysis of human feelings. She knew firsthand the pain that could come from academic rivalry, having sacrificed much of her personal life for her career. "Data points?" she echoed, her voice rising slightly. "You're speaking as if people are nothing but numbers on a page!"

The room grew quiet, the tension thickening. Gojo's smile remained, but there was a glint in his eye that suggested he was enjoying the intellectual sparring as much as she was. "Aren't we all just complex algorithms, Y/N-san?" he countered, leaning forward in his chair. "Our emotions, our choices, all of it can be broken down and understood if we're willing to look closely enough."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "And what happens when those algorithms malfunction? When the desire to win overpowers the pursuit of knowledge?" she shot back.

Gojo's smile grew into a full-blown grin, revealing a set of perfectly straight teeth. "Ah, but that's the beauty of it," he said, his voice low and mesmerizing. "It's when we're pushed to our limits that we discover what we're truly capable of. Without challenge, we stagnate."

Their verbal sparring continued, with each point met with a counterpoint and each question answered sharply and insightfully. The audience watched on, captivated by their dynamic. As the session came to an end, the thunderous applause was a clear indication that they had stolen the show.

After the symposium, they found themselves unable to avoid each other. Their paths crossed in libraries, at academic socials, and even in the quiet corners of the university where they often sought solace. With each encounter, the rivalry grew stronger, their banter more heated, and the lines between professional competition and personal attraction began to blur.

One rainy afternoon, Y/N stumbled into Gojo's office, seeking refuge from the storm. She was soaked to the bone, her hair plastered against her face, and her glasses foggy with condensation. Without looking up from his paperwork, Gojo gestured to a chair across from his desk. "Take a seat," he said curtly. "You're dripping everywhere."

Y/N complied, shivering slightly as the cold air of his office hit her damp clothes. She watched as he neatly arranged his notes, his hands precise and methodical. "Thanks," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gojo looked up, his expression unreadable. "For what?"

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "For not letting me drown in my own pride," she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Gojo's eyes flicked up to meet hers, a glimmer of amusement in his gaze. "You're quite welcome," he said, his tone dry. He paused in his work, his eyes lingering on her. "But don't get too comfortable. I don't tolerate distractions for long."

Y/N leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, I'll be quick," she said, her voice a little steadier now. "I just wanted to thank you for not letting me embarrass myself at the symposium. I know we disagree, but I respect your work."

Gojo studied her for a moment before his gaze softened slightly. "Your paper was intriguing," he admitted, his tone less confrontational. "It's not often someone challenges me in such a... compelling way."

The air between them shifted, the tension of their rivalry giving way to something more nuanced. Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest. "I didn't mean to challenge you," she said. "I just wanted to understand."

Gojo leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Understanding is the key to all things, isn't it?" he mused. "But sometimes, it's the journey to that understanding that reveals more than the destination."

The rain pattered against the window, casting a soft glow into the room. Y/N felt a strange sense of peace in the middle of their usual battleground. "What's your story, Gojo-san?" she asked, the formality of their rivalry slipping away.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flashing across his face. "My story?" He paused, considering his words. "It's a tale of ambition, much like yours, I suspect."

Y/N nodded, curiosity piqued. "You're right, I am ambitious," she admitted. "But what drives yours? What makes you so... intense?"

Gojo leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. "Intense?" He repeated the word as if tasting it. "I suppose it's the pursuit of the untouchable. The thrill of unlocking the human mind's secrets before they're lost to time." His eyes took on a distant look, reflecting a passion that burned brighter than the neon lights outside.

"But that's not all of it, is it?" Y/N pressed, her voice gentle. She had a knack for drawing people out of their shells, for finding the humanity beneath the intellectual armor.

He sighed, his gaze returning to hers. "No, it's not." For the first time since their rivalry had begun, Gojo's guard slipped. "My family... they've always been the most brilliant minds in the academic world. The pressure to live up to their legacy is immense. It's like I'm fighting against the very fabric of who I am, trying to carve my own path while carrying the weight of their expectations."

Y/N felt a pang of empathy. She knew all too well the burden of living up to the shadows of greatness. "That's a heavy load to bear," she said softly. "But you're doing it. You're making a name for yourself."

Gojo's gaze remained fixed on hers, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "It's never enough," he murmured. "There's always someone ready to knock me down, to prove that I'm not as great as everyone seems to think."

Y/N leaned forward, her own burdens momentarily forgotten. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone," she said firmly. "Your work speaks for itself. You're brilliant, Gojo-san."

He gave a wry smile. "And you're not so bad yourself, Y/N-san."

The rain had slowed to a gentle patter, and the room was filled with the sweet sound of silence. They sat there, neither one willing to be the first to break the spell. The air was thick with something new, something unspoken as if their rivalry had been a dance and they had just discovered a shared rhythm.

Gojo took a deep breath and stood, walking over to the small bookshelf by the window. He pulled out a book titled "The Psychology of Rivalry and Its Impact on Human Behavior." Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she realized it was one of her earlier works. "You've read this?" she asked her voice a mix of surprise and pride.

He nodded, turning the pages idly. "I have," he said. "Your theories are... intriguing. But I have to admit, I never thought I'd see you in the flesh."

Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck. "You've read my work?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Gojo nodded, his eyes never leaving the book. "I have a... keen interest in understanding my adversaries," he said, his tone teasing. "And you, Y/N-san, are quite the formidable adversary."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. "Is that what you call it?" she teased. "Adversaries who share an umbrella and discuss philosophy in the rain?"

Gojo looked up from the book, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. "Well, when you put it that way..." He trailed off, his gaze lingering on her. "Perhaps we're not as different as we thought."

The rain had almost stopped, leaving a gentle hush in the air. Y/N stood, feeling the weight of their conversation settle in her chest. "Maybe we're not," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we're just two people who found themselves on the same stormy path."

Gojo looked up, his eyes searching hers. "Perhaps we should walk that path together," he suggested, a tentative note in his voice. "Collaborate, instead of compete."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. The idea of joining forces with Gojo was both thrilling and terrifying. "I... I think that could be interesting," she said, her voice wavering slightly.

©jamal127 ✧ all rights served. || 2025  (≖ᴗ≖✿)

@gojobiggestslut

[mdnnight]

✱ champagne weather ! recipent : medicine pocket

this moment in time : welcome to the suitcase, where it's always raining. spend some time with your dearest mildly insane scientist, medicine pocket .

notes from lucille : it's been five months since the last medicine pocket fic . fun fact ( i think ) medicine pocket is 5'8 / 177 cm so enjoy how poorly written this was

tags : medicine pocket x reader , fluff , gn reader , reader is implied to work at laplace medical center blah blah , the first time i've written something in over a year , dogs? sorry if you're allergic , not proofread because rereading my writing makes me cringe , ooc medicine pocket mayber who knows , word count : 219

you can't hear anything except for your heartbeat and the pitter-patter of the rain hitting against glass, head against pillow with one arm snaked around your waist — medicine pocket's. their other is holding up the latest arcanist daily, thumb pressed against the thin pages.

this was the closet thing to peace you could get, considering that medicine pocket had been fussing for you to sleep at more reasonable times ( before three in the morning , and still a very hypocriticial request considering ... medicine pocket. ) and in their words, " passing out on your desk does not count, dumbass. "

not like they didn't do that on the regular.

" go to bed. " the words startle you out of your thoughts, unconsciously moving away from medicine pocket before their arm tightens around your waist, bringing you closer to them.

" it's not even that late ... " complaints start to rise out of your mouth, until you turn and see that the clock reads one in the morning. oops. " okay nevermind — i'll sleep . " you mutter out, still faced away from medicine pocket so you don't have to see the smirk on their face.

there's a moment of silence where they speak nothing and you can only hear the drizzle outside, and maybe the sound of medicine pocket flipping a page in their magazine. " great . good night, darling . "

you can still hear the smugness in their voice, maybe.

[sillyboycam]

hi

summer is upon us guys

you know what that means.

NEW ARTTTTTT

okay yes, guys just so you know I fucking LOVE Eddsworld. Like at the deepest root of my heart, this is that root (that doesn’t make sense I don’t care)

Anyways I originally did this drawing like 2 years ago, and i STARTED the redraw like….. half a year ago, but I literally didn’t finish it until very recently.. which is fine.

But, it’s not a full redraw since I do see tons of things that I would do differently today

Regardless, I finished it. And I’m so fucking proud of it

I just… really like the way they look and I’m so happy w/ it. I hope you guys like it too :)

good art piece to start off the summer with

Anyways here’s the comparison between the two :3 ↓

I’m proud of my shading skills (ish) haha

okay, enjoy

love u guys, as always art is by me ——> @sillyboycam

hope your summer is going good so far

(more to come soon….)

[mumms-the-word]

Micro-story number 20 please!

Ooooh an interesting one! My brain went several places with this one, both sfw and nsfw so it took me a while to land on something. But here you go, another Gale x You mini fic!

alone, finally

He has your back against the door of his home in Waterdeep the moment you’ve fully crossed his threshold, his fingers digging into your hips and his lips on yours, practically stealing the air from your lungs. Your eyes fly wide with surprise before fluttering closed as you wrap your arms around his neck, responding to each new affection with equal passion. He’s been hungry for you before but this is something else. It’s as though every reservation he’s ever borne around you has suddenly fallen away. He lavishes his mouth on you and grips you like a man starved.

As his lips move to your neck you managed to gasp a hazy, “Gale, what—”

“We’re alone,” murmurs against your skin, his voice deep, “finally.”

You can’t help but laugh. “We’ve been alone before, my love. This is hardly the first time.”

He nips at your earlobe, a sharp but fleeting pain, almost like a chastisement. “Not like this.”

You bite your lip against a smile, tempted to just let him have it—let him have you—but you have to know. You comb your fingers through his hair and guide his head up so you can look him in the face. He lifts his head with a look that is nothing short of a pleading pout, his brown eyes at maximum hurt-puppy levels and his lips in a tiny plump frown. You laugh again.

“What do you mean, love?” you ask, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “We’ve been alone plenty of times.”

“We’ve never been alone like this,” he says. He pulls your hips to meet his and touches his forehead briefly to yours. “We’ve never been home before.”

Home.

It clicks for you.

Home, where you can lock the door and shut out the outside world for a few hours or days. Home, with no one lingering a few feet away from your tent, where you don’t have to share walls, floors, and ceilings with dozens of other temporary residents in adjoining rooms. Home, where you—or at least he—is at his most comfortable, surrounded by the space he built for himself. Home, where the two of you can be as loud, adventurous, and wild as you please, with only the most intrepid busybody to overhear you.

He’s right. You’ve never been alone with him quite like this.

His expression shifts as he sees the understanding dawn on your face, his round-eyed pout replaced with a sharper, hungrier look, his pupils blown wide with desire. He kisses you deeply again before resting his forehead against yours.

“I want you,” he breathes. “I want to try everything we haven’t tried yet, with you, here. I want to explore your body, every inch of it, to see what I missed while we were out there saving the world. I want every room in our home to echo with the sounds of your pleasure, raw and without limits. I want to see you—everywhere, pressed against every surface. Not just our bed, but our desks, our table, our—”

You silence him with a kiss. As much as you love to hear him talk, what you want now is fewer words and more action. You kiss him until you’re both breathless, panting, until the room feels too hot and you’re desperate to peel your clothes away from your body and tug his off of him. You break away to catch your breath, though he hasn’t given you much room to do so, pressing his body against yours until it’s flat to the door.

“Don’t tell me,” you breathe. “Show me.”

His response is a grin you don’t think you’ve seen before. Not like this. A little crooked, a little mischievous, and entirely too hungry. It sends a thrill down your spine.

You’re in trouble, but in the best possible way.

“Don’t hold back, my love. It’s just us, after all.”