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#here LOL
clonecaptains · 11 months
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Jamie Tartt + yellow jersey
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bonesdoesart · 1 year
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A page of Venture Brothers characters :)))
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mrburnsnuclearpussy · 2 years
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An embarrassing Downton doodle dump ❤️
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foxtricksterwriting · 7 months
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Unfinished Drabble, Mallory + H
Author's Note: I think I did alright with H lol
Tags: @gg-university-if
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"Then I shall be thy sword and thy shield, nay, I shall be the burning hearth ye return to after a grueling battle!....no," Mallory shakes her head, letting her arms drop. She flicks the papers in her left hand upright so she can read them. She'd stayed behind to practice her lines, her clubmates remarked that she sounded very unenthusiastic and she agreed; they were supposed to be professing their love to the lead, shouldn't they sound more happy about it? It wasn't going well before and it isn't going well now.
"Was wondering where you were, Mal."
Mallory jumps, almost throwing their script into the air and spins around. They sigh with relief when they see that it's just H, sauntering over to stand in front of the stage. "You can't do that to me, H," he pouts softly at them. H just chuckles, "Sorry. Tried to call but you didn't pick up." Mallory grimaces, he'd left his phone in his bag, backstage. "My phone's in my bag back there," he waves towards side stage. "I figured," H nods, then motions to the papers in his hand, "working on your lines?"
Mallory laughs, "Yeah. I need to put more emotion into them, earlier I sounded like a fucking wet towel." She throws the stack at them then approaches the edge of the stage. H catches the pages and scans them while she sits down. "The highlighted ones, right?"
"Yep."
"...Yeah, fuck this," They shake their head and throw the script back at her. "So helpful," Mallory snarks while setting it down next to her. She motions for them to come closer. H smiles and approaches her, letting her hug them close. She rests her forehead against theirs and sighs, "I'm already tired."
"Wanna go get something to eat instead?" H offers. They laugh, "No, I need to get this right. But, we can go on a little date afterwards. A reward for you being patient."
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kissykalachuchi · 10 months
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stalker izuku x katsuki who doesn't give a shit about izuku following him around. in fact, he gets pissy on the days he doesn't hear footsteps behind him.
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sakiyaki-sashimi · 3 days
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You ever love a character so much you just make an AU where you can ignore all their flaws cuz they’re baby but also they’re you for real at the same time????
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kellyscowboy · 10 months
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꒰✧ᯇ✦꒱ DON'T BE SORRY FOR LEAVING AND GROWING OLD || ch. 2
ᯇ summary ! ✦ Jack Kelly finally gets out of New York and makes something of himself. Though, he's never been good at goodbyes and David won't answer his letters. || read full thing on ao3 now WRITTEN FOR THE NEWSIES FIC EXCHANGE ᯇ warnings ! ✦ cussing & angst 777 WORDS © 2023 , 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲
prev. chapter || next chapter
Jack had finally made a life for himself. He no longer wondered where his next meal would come from or if he might spend the next week in the refuge instead of the lodging. It wasn’t like he was famous, but he was known enough.
Santa Fe wasn’t as small as he had hoped, but still smaller than New York. In his mind, he had pictured a town where everyone knew him, and neighbors would bring him eggs and invite him over for Thanksgiving.
It had taken a while, but everyone did know him. However, it wasn’t due to the shortage of population, but due to his impeccable art that was sold at coffee shops and diner’s all-around town. He had aneighbor that brought him eggs, but she only did so in hopes that the boy would fall in love with her and draw her.
Which he did… draw her. He never could fall in love with her. She was missing something, something he had yet to find anywhere but New York. But he married her anyway, because he didn’t know what else to do and he was horrified of being alone.
That’s when his career kicked off. Darla, his wife, came from a well-off family who had many connections in the art business. It was sheer luck that her father’s best friend happened to be a curator, who had chosen the art that was displayed in many popular museums. 
When he got paid for the first time, the bubble of guilt that had popped long ago began to fester again. He knew what he had sacrificed to get to that point, the friendships he had lost and the family he had left behind. That’s when he wrote his first letter.
Dear David,
It’s been a while since I left, and I guess I’m kinda hoping you’ve gotten over the whole leaving ya behind thing. Which I guess ain’t fair of me to ask.
I’m glad you were mad at me. You let me get away with too much, Dave. I shouldn’t have talked to you the way I did, I should have said goodbye, and I should’ve brought you’se with me. So, I’m sorry.
You probably don’t care, but I’m doing pretty good out here. People really like my art. I just got my first check, it’s weird to see dollars and not cents. Sorry, I feel like I’m bragging. I’m not trying to. It’s just…
Well, I dunno really. You always told me I could be something more and I guess this is me thanking you, because you’re right. I wouldn’t be here without you. And I don’t want you to blame yourself for me leaving, cuz I would’a done it anyway.
I’ve been thinking about coming out and visiting. But I’m sure no-one wants to see me ever again.
I want you to know that I felt guilty, I still feel guilty. I don’t know why I didn’t want to say goodbye, but. Anyway. I’m sorry for everything, Dave.
Sincerely & forever yours,
Cowboy.
It wasn’t too long after that that his art began to change. Colorful landscapes of Santa Fe that took deep breaths of fresh air turned into dark Manhattan sky lines with smog that leaked out of the edges. Portraits of Darla began to showcase curly hair, freckles, and light blue eyes. Images of Darla’s younger cousins swinging over the lake turned into young, raggedy-clothed boys hugging each other tightly during a storm.
“Jack…” His wife started. She approached him carefully, softly. “Honey, I think you might be missing New York.”
Jack hummed, barely acknowledged the statement. “Why do you say that, dear?”
“Your last five paintings were supposed to be of me,” she said. “Not that they had to be. But you said they were.” She looked in a mirror that hung above their dresser. “I don’t know if you haven’t taken a good look at me recently. But I have long, straight black hair and brown eyes. My skin is pale, and I don’t even have freckles during the summer.” She paused too long for Jack’s comfort, then turned and waited until he looked up at her. “And I’m not a boy, Jack.”
Immediately, tears began to well in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Darla smiled and wiped the stray tears off his cheek. She kissed his nose and pressed their foreheads together. “I’ve known for a long time, Jack. I just want you to be happy.”
“I really do love you.” Jack said quietly.
“I know you do.” She intertwined their hands and ran her free hand through his hair. “But you’re in love with him.”
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jackyfalahees · 9 months
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I am still writing sword fic and yes it is still a monster, but here’s a snippet from the new opening scene of (I Just Died) In Your Arms:
He was gullible as a boy, too trustworthy, dangerous flaws, but at least he had the potential to outgrow them. He thought the tournament was special because his cousin was newly knighted, and he was now one step closer to becoming something, something besides a ward. A squire. Or maybe it was because of the crowd, the sheer size of the roster, the nobleman and the knights and the clergy. Or maybe it was because Sir Ector wanted him to have a nice time. Show him something besides home.
But he- he remembered how his family talked in whispers, and Kay’s eagerness. What did he want? To win. To prove himself. What any young man wanted.
You didn’t know what you wanted, though.
Kay wanted to win, but he was forgetful, a little impulsive. “Damn it,” he’d muttered, looking over his shoulder, his visor raised. Arthur held the reins to his horse. God, what had he done wrong? He’d spent the entire night polishing his armor, sharpening his-
“I forgot the bloody sword,” Kay had said.
Arthur didn’t go to his first tournament.
He had to find a weapon for his knight.
He walked through the empty London streets. All of the buildings seemed so tall, the streets so vast, and the church spires were like stars. Could he climb them, like the trees back home? He spent his afternoons hiding in the leaves. He was too old, but they blocked out noise. They let him be alone.
It was still snowing when he reached the stone.
Alone in the churchyard, a silent sanctuary-- the sounds of the tournament didn’t follow him there. No one did.
Arthur didn’t go to his first tournament.
Instead, he stood in front of a stone, holding a sword too big in his hands.
He never liked tournaments.
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fu-cough · 2 years
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do filipinos actually propose to their spouses i forgot
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bokkerijder · 4 months
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pro-AI in the sense of "they taught a bread scanning computer to recognize cancer cells" etc etc
against AI in the sense of "we stole artwork from hundreds to thousands of artists, didn't credit them and didn't financially compensate them"
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dovesick · 5 months
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endless night
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pbnmj · 1 year
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THE NOIR-HOBIE INTERACTIONS THAT I MADE UP IN MY MIND ARE VERY REAL TO ME. SONY PLEASE PICK UP WHAT I’M PUTTING DOWN!!!
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junaip3r · 10 months
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Good Omens + Parallels
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Quite possibly the funniest shit I have ever seen in my life
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gibbearish · 7 months
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love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking
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lambment · 2 months
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Mawwige....
thinking about beating narinder with a gun in game, and immediatley marrying him, a shotgun wedding.
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