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#//i'm very proud of this one tbh
gunsatthaphan · 3 months
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"I respect your feelings."
↳ requested by anonymous ♡ 
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horsemeatluvr23 · 4 days
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little sketchbook spread w the last 3 + todays hermit a day doodles !! chronic illness has been kicking my ass this week so these r lower effort than i'd like but,,,,,, practice is practice !!!
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l0ganberry · 2 months
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Here is some doodles I did of Bob Velseb.
Just to match my instant brainrot of him
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all without notes
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astranauticus · 3 months
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orv sketchdump while i try to recover from midterms burnout
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Fanart of "Last of your Kind" by @boonbeenblade
(The name might sound familiar, because I have posted about it before, and I once again highly recommend you read it)
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waitineedaname · 11 months
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The silence in the backseat was so profound that they twisted around just to make sure they hadn’t driven off without Ed somehow. Ed was staring at them, a vein twitching in his forehead. “Greed?” he said. “Yeah? What, you didn’t expect to see me?” Greed smirked. “You’re back?” Ed all but screeched. Ling and Greed’s minds blanked at the same moment, and they came to a sudden realization in unison. If Lan Fan’s sudden inhale beside them was any indication, she had too. “No one told him,” she said. Oops.
Greed's back. Everyone forgot to inform Ed.
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grimm-the-tiger · 5 days
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Some Sky OCs. Left is Blue, right is Shadow.
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mel-loly · 9 months
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us!
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Hey silly!! Hru? How's your day going?? :]
That's really canon!! Also- I kind of made a little comic about this but with c!melple, so.. Yeah, hope you like it! :D💖
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mo-ok · 8 days
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Denziman vs Datolar
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pathetic-gamer · 2 years
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FE Inktober day 10: Dancer
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Ninian, my beloved <3
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sheepydwagondraws · 1 month
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Been thinking a lot about this post of complied quotes by @damazcuz and got inspired enough to make a little collage to put on my wall,,, calling it "Change IS Nature, Dad"
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stxrmstained-a · 10 months
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writing-good-vibes · 2 years
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all in the name of love
guess who's back !! i invite y'all to watch your favourite fanfic author project her own insecurity regarding intimacy/relationships onto this random hot topic employee. i put vincent through the ringer in this one, apologies in advance. bold is asl, as always. divider images by @/suckgirl. check out sol's art that heavily inspired vincent's smoking habit 🚬😈. domestic sinclair content for the most part but WARNING for some mild spicy implications because i am giving bo too much credit for his hoeing around.
When they are 9 years-old, Bo comes home from school one day and tells Vincent all about his day.
His class has been reading Charlotte's Web, and Bo doesn't like Zuckerman because he was going to eat the pig. He had meatloaf for lunch, and sat next to Scotty Jones, which was good because Scotty is the coolest kid in their grade. In geography they're still going over the State Capitals, which is really boring because Bo already knows all of the State Capitals. At recess he got married to Missy Landry.
At recess, Bo got married to Missy Landry.
Vincent nods and listens when Bo tells him how pretty Missy is. She has brown hair and brown eyes and is the best at jump rope and sits two seats in front of Bo in class. She's friends with Tanya Freeman who is the prettiest girl in their grade and who got married to Scotty at recess last Tuesday.
Vincent doesn't go to school with Bo, he stays at home and Mama teaches him all of his lessons. Reading, Writing, Arithmetic. Lester doesn't do any lessons yet because he's barely more than a baby. Or at least that's how Vince still sees him.
Vincent has read Charlotte's Web and has PB&Js for lunch and knows all of the State Capitals by heart.
Vincent doesn't have anyone to marry out on the schoolyard.
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When they are 12 years old, Bo comes home from school with a handful of Valentines.
The two of them sit on Bo's bed and, as Vincent looks over each card, covered in glitter and pink gel pen love hearts, Bo tells him about the girls that sent them. The girls who giggled as they dropped their tokens of affection onto his desk as they passed by, and the ones that blushed.
Lisa and Tara and Christine and Becky.
Vincent traces each heart, each xoxo, with care. He puts the cards aside and tries to brush the glitter from his hands. It sticks in the creases of his palms and glints from the fabric of his baggy blue jeans.
He thinks, absently, about Joshua Mayer who lives down the hill from them. He has red hair that is almost as red as the hearts on Bo's Valentines.
Bo is still talking. He says he didn't send any Valentine's, because he doesn't care about soppy, girly things like that.
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When they are 14, Bo gets himself a date to their first high school dance.
This is the first year that the twins have gone to school together. Mama said it would be better for Vincent to be around kids his own age for a while, and that she just didn't have the time to teach him what he needed at home anymore.
The lucky girl is Missy Landry. Vincent remembers her. Bo married her at recess when they were 9. It seems like their marriage is going well, and to think Vincent had expected they'd be divorced by now.
Vincent had though Bo didn't care about the dance. But he watches anyway as Bo walks up to Missy after Algebra and says, "Wanna go to the dance with me?"
That's it. Seven words that make up a question that Bo already knows the answer to. That everyone already knows the answer to.
Missy says yes and Bo grins. They briefly discuss their plans, before Missy's friend is tugging her elbow because the bell is about to go for next period.
The twins turn to make their way to their own classes.
"Who are you gonna ask?" Bo asks.
Vincent turns with a start. "What?"
"To the dance," Bo reiterates, though he knows Vince knows exactly what he meant. "You're going to ask someone, right?
Vincent shrugs, watches as Christine Deville passes them in the opposite direction. In the first week of their English class, Christine had forgotten her copy of Catcher in the Rye and had to share Vincent's copy, under teacher's orders. Vincent felt the sweat prickle on the back of his neck as Christine asked, "Should I move over to you?" He shook his head, shuffled his desk closer to hers and held the book as steady as he could, dutifully turning the page when necessary and certainly not making eye contact with the pretty girl next to him.
He doesn't make eye contact with her now, either. She passes them by without a second glance.
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When they are 17 years-old, Bo is late driving him and Vincent home from school one Friday.
Vincent waits around the truck, swinging his legs from where he is sat on the dented hood. He and Bo aren't in the same 8th period, so they always meet at Bo's truck after the final bell and drive home. Across the lot, he sees Joshua Mayer. Now he's almost as tall as Vince and plays the tuba in marching band. He's with his band friends, all packing their instruments into someone's SUV. Joshua has a loud laugh, he always has, and it makes Vincent smile behind the mask. He dutifully ducks his head down anyway.
Bo ends up being almost 20 minutes late, and the parking lot is emptying out by the time he saunters up to his twin, looking far too pleased with himself.
"I have a date with Stacy Leblanc tonight," he says, hopping into the drivers seat and switching the ignition.
Vincent follows, climbing in the passenger side door and throwing his school bag into the back seat. "Is that why you were late?"
"Time is it?" Bo asks. He doesn't wear a watch, so Vincent does.
Vince shuffles the sleeve of his hoodie up and checks the time. "3:18."
"I'm not that late," he chides, putting the truck into gear and driving out of the lot. "Had plans to make, didn't I? M'pickin' her up at 6."
They drive in silence for a while, until they get to the long stretch of road that leads back to Ambrose. It's secluded, with tall, windswept trees on either side and a dwindling trickle of traffic.
Bo glances over at Vincent, feeling a heaviness in the air that always comes when it isn't a good time for Vince to speak but he has something to say anyway. Humming lowly with interest, Bo sits back in his seat.
Vince leans forward, twisting in his seat to better face his brother. "I thought you said Stacy Leblanc was a slut?"
He did say that, last week actually. "Yeah well, she should know what she's doing then, shouldn't she?" He grins, raising his brows almost comically.
Vincent shrugs noncommittedly. "If you say so."
Bo smirks, pushing playfully at Vincent's chest. He leans back against the passenger door to get out of Bo's reach. "What, you jealous? I could put in a good word for you, if you want? Then maybe you'll finally get some."
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When they are 21, Vincent drops out of college and Bo has to come and pick him up.
They don't talk for a long while. They pack Vince's things up into boxes and stack them in the back of Bo's truck. Each box is labelled. Clothes. Bedding. Books. Supplies: Paints. Supplies: Tools. Supplies: Sketching.
He stops by at a few of his friends dorms to say goodbye. He doesn't tell them he's not coming back in the fall. Just as he's leaving the dorm block, he runs into another friend. A girl from his Art History class. They'd been to parties together, sipping wine in the corner, sometimes his free hand would brush hers, but they never talked about that. He says one more goodbye and then turns to leave
He finds the truck parked across the street. Bo is sat on the dented hood, smoking.
"Who's the lil' blonde?" Bo gestures discreetly over Vincent's shoulder with the cigarette packet.
Vince takes a smoke and slowly turns to look in the direction Bo is pointing. Of course he knows who Bo's talking about, but what harm is there in one last look?
She's continuing down the side walk, the same way she was going when Vincent crossed her path that final time. As she rounds the corner of the block, she casts a glance over her shoulder, gives a half-wave in Vincent's direction, and then disappears out of his life. Or he is about to disappear out of hers? Same difference.
When he turns back to his twin, Bo is holding a lighter out, the flame flickering in the faint breeze. Vincent shifts his mask off, dangling it gently from his fingers for a second, before he deposits it safely next to Bo. As Vincent leans forward to light his cigarette, he lets his hair fall just enough to cover his face.
Pulling away and taking the first testing drags, Vincent replies, "Loretta."
"She's cute," Bo nods, like he's appraising a piece of antique furniture. "She put out?"
Vincent shakes his head.
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When they are 22, the guy that Bo had sworn he wasn't dating moves out of Ambrose, so he convinces Vincent to come with him to the closest bar for some of that brotherly bonding they hadn't had a lot of time for in the past few months. He most definitely is not drowning his sorrows.
Vincent doesn't go out much anymore, but he usually accompanies Bo without much fuss. At least he can drive them home, so Bo doesn't total the truck. And to think, once upon a time, Vince was worried that it'd always be him that totalled the Chevy.
They sit at the bar and Bo drinks and Vincent smokes.
A girl with brown hair and brown eyes appears beside Bo and he buys her a drink, because Bo has never been immune to a pretty girl. She bats her lashes and Bo excuses them to "get some air".
Vincent waits, watching the clock above the bar. Sometimes, he wonders if Bo brings him along to be a comparative wingman. Because, Vincent knows, any girl in their right mind would rather hook up with Bo, especially when they see that he is the ugly alternative. He ashes his cigarette into the green glass ash tray.
There's a man, with cropped black hair and broad shoulders, at at the other end of the bar. Vincent can't help but stare. Well-timed glances which make his own heart flutter. He's practiced a smile in the mirror before; no teeth, nonchalantly suggestive. Instead, he watches for the flex of muscle that suggests movement in the other man, suggests he might get caught, and dutifully averts his gaze. When the man downs the last of his beer and leaves, Vince sighs, chin resting on his hand. That could have been an almost, he thinks.
Bo comes back, without the girl, after about 20 minutes. The flush on his face is cooling down, but he's still tucking his t-shirt back into his jeans by the time he arrives back at the stool next to Vince's.
"Where's your 'friend'?"
"She has places to be."
Vincent grunts, turning away to get a new smoke from the packet between them on the bar.
Bo nudges his twin, making him look back at him. "Don't be jealous. You're too good for a girl like that, anyway."
Vincent knows that isn't exactly true. He thinks, at this point, he'd take just about anyone who would have him.
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fragments of the day
“You’ve got so many knots tonight, Kento,” Yu commented, and though Kento couldn’t see him, he was sure Yu was frowning. “You gotta tell me when it starts to get this bad, okay?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
I didn’t want to bother you.
“You’re my best friend, Kento. I’m always gonna worry about you,” Yu replied easily, pushing into his muscles even harder and damn, that felt amazing; Yu really was good at giving massages. “I don’t like seeing you in pain.”
Kento sucked in a breath, then coughed, trying to play it off as a tic. How was Yu able to be so open with him? How was he able to share what’s in his heart? Hell, Kento can’t even say I love you. He has to rely on don't be stupid and be careful to get the message across.
Sometimes, he wished he were more like Yu.
So, Kento passed him another orange.
[or, nanami has bad shoulder pain and haibara makes it a little better]
⛅️12,868 words | nanami & haibara, nanami & gojo🌥
chapter one
chapter two
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there-will-be-a-way · 8 months
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It's wild growing up as a socially awkward child with little friends and then becoming popular in literally every group setting as an adult
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They say art is forbidden within City walls, and by all accounts it might as well be.
While large murals adorn the facades of the Lobby's busiest streets, reflecting the world around them in solid blocks of color like a static mirror, they do not speak the tongue of frantic prayers to a slumbering god or mad bursts of color plastered against decrepit walls— they are completely silent. They watch but never speak, never reach out to comfort or inspire. One could go as far as to say they are dead in their own right, but that would assume that anything is alive in Battery City beyond its inhabitants.
Better Living Industries does not fear color, nor music, nor pictures on a screen or words written on paper. What they fear is creativity— a language known by few, but understood by many, a code that cannot be decrypted using any machine for it does not have a key or stationary meaning.
To kill the artist you must kill the meaning, and not the other way around.
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