#reblog deeply appreciated! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Forty percent of Tumblr users are between the ages of 18 to 25.

#reblog deeply appreciated!

laweyd · 5 months

Text

Pre-order of my horror comic is now available in my online shop !

Hello everyone!

Now that ShortBox Comics Fair and the Thought Bubble comics festival is finished; I’m very happy to announce that my horror comic «It all Ends with Me» is now available for pre-orders through my online shop until the 10.december!

I also added in my previous sb comics fair comic from last year (See you again, maybe), my artzines as well as some new original- and fan- art prints !

⭐️Shop link: laweyd.bigcartel.com

A few friendly reminders before you order:

- pre-orders (and other books/prints etc that you bought with it) will be shipped out between 1-10. january!

-Unfortunately, the book won’t be arriving by chrismas or new year. You will also receive shipping notification by email once it has been shipped out.

-Regular non pre-orders will be shipped out every 1-3 days.

- After the comic had it’s debut at the ThoughtBubble festival; I dropped off some copies at these stores if you live nearby !

⭐️ GOSH! Comics, London, UK 🇬🇧

⭐️ Little Deer Comics, Dublin, Ireland 🇮🇪

⭐️OUTLAND, Oslo, Norway 🇳🇴

#comic #horror comic #pre orders #original character #original characters #originals #laweyd #reblogs and such is deeply appreciated thank you so much for the support 🙇‍♀️!!#online shop

443 notes · View notes

l-ii-zz · 10 months

Text

Dib’s Wonderful Life Of DOOM

I don’t know about you, but I vividly remember how shocking this episode was to me when I was preschool age. I even remember myself being very upset because back then I hated Dib and I was sad that Zim lost xD. Still, this episode is special to me because it is what brought my first “What if Dib wins for real?” baby thoughts. And then it all ended to where we are now with my au :3

#invader zim #dib membrane #dib’s wonderful life of doom #zade #my art #2023 #liizz #also I hate begging for reblogs. but if you can do that I would deeply appreciate it #I hurted my hand with this and I hope it was worth it :')

256 notes · View notes

throughtrialbyfire · 7 months

Text

the beloved jester ♥

zoom in to see details, my ramblings are under the readmore!

i really wanted to push myself out of my "normal standing pose/portrait/no interesting perspectives" comfort zone, and i think this greatly achieved that! i had an insanely fun time drawing him like this, cicero deserves to be put in fun poses where he gets to show off his flexibility!

working with a muted color palette and then using some fine-tuning after was a lot of fun, as well. it forced me to really look at where i select colors, and i enjoyed it a hell of a lot.

i hope you guys like this piece. <3

#cicero #skyrim #tes v #tesblr #cicero skyrim #dark brotherhood #the dark brotherhood #tes #tes fanart #skyrim fanart #tes v fanart #my art #bishop.txt #reblogs are deeply appreciated!! it helps other people see my art!!

130 notes · View notes

thebramblewood · 7 months

Text

The Vatores Present... A Decennial Vampire Bash: Part I

I'll be using Quiet Voices Memorial by the extremely talented @sweetbeagaming throughout this entire sequence (with some likely inferior modifications by me to make it more vampire-friendly).

Previous / Next

Lilith: Must we really sit for one of these every goddamn year?

Caleb: It's decennial, Lil, just like your silly little parties. And, yes, we must. It's important to preserve the passage of time.

Lilith: You say that, but don't tell me there aren't decades you'd rather never think about again, let alone find hanging on your wall for an eternity.

Waiter: [whispers] Ms. Vatore, your guests are beginning to arrive.

Lilith: Oh, thank god! I feel like I'm calcifying over here.

Caleb: But the portrait's not even close to finished!

Lilith: Forget the portrait, Caleb. If they're a professional, which they should be, considering the obscene amount of money you paid them, they can finish the job without us. Now, come. We have a grand entrance to make. And can you at least pretend to be happy to be here? I even let you invite some of your dreadfully dull vegetarian friends.

Caleb: Would you really call everyone else on the list your friends?

Lilith: Not in the strictest sense of the word, no, but I like to know I've got them all under my thumb regardless.

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 story #simblr #story: hzid #bramblewoodvamps #i learned the word decennial for this!#and a friendly reminder that likes are always deeply appreciated #but if you're enjoying the story & want other people to know about it reblogging is always the best gift you could give me #ofc i don't expect it for every post but if you particularly loved one it's a good way to show it!#lilith vatore #caleb vatore

124 notes · View notes

mikibagels · 1 day

Text

I want to quickly thank you guys for the support on my recent artworks. It's really lovely seeing so much love for these niche characters and how creative you guys are when you think of headcanons for them.

I am really blessed to have this blog here. I love being nerdy and funny and happy with you guys 🩷🫂 I am excited to share more comics and illustrations I have prepared.

#froggy loves you deeply #I always suppress the urge to thank everyone who comments and leaves personalised tags in the reblogs just because of how much there are #so i hope you dont mind me dropping a love bomb on my blog every once in a while #i need yall to know that im not very apathetic towards these things and you are appreciated by me everyday

42 notes · View notes

alectoperdita · 4 months

Text

What you can't bury

Part 18 of Lure

Rated: E Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters Pairing: Jounouchi Katsuya/Kaiba Seto Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Tags: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Organized Crime, Internal Conflict, Power Imbalance, Power Dynamics, Blood and Torture, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Sex as Coping Mechanism, Unhealthy Relationships, Trauma Bonding, Codependency, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Explicit Sexual Content, Degradation, Masochism, Impact Play, Asshole Spanking, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Breeding Kink, Sex Toys, Rough Sex, Painful Sex, Mild Painplay, Punishment, Cock & Ball Torture, Mild Breathplay, Come Feeding, Praise Kink, Under-negotiated Kink, Somnophilia, Sexting, Dick Pics, Semi-Public Sex, Workplace Sex, Light Bondage, Nipple Play, Nipple Clamps, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sounding, Misogyny, Public Blow Jobs, Choking

As discontent swells amongst the Aoryu-kai's ranks, those wishing to seize power for themselves emerge. They threaten everything—Kaiba's leadership position, the tiny sliver of peace Jounouchi's managed to carve out for himself, and whatever tenuous bond exists between the two of them.

Will saving Kaiba's hide save Jounouchi too? Or is this finally his chance to escape from under the kumicho's thumb?

Read Chapter 6 on AO3 Series Masterlist

---

"It doesn't concern you," said Seto after an extended beat. Jounouchi's face contorted to show something Seto never expected: disappointment. But why? Why was he so disappointed? After the last time, Jounouchi shouldn't be surprised by his response. So why did it agitate Seto's chest? The only explanation was Jounouchi had been right earlier. Seto was tired, worn thin by the days of tearing through the city and his own organization in search of stolen merchandise and the rats stealing from him. Upon closer examination, Jounouchi's eye bags were at least as heavy as Seto's. The dark rings spoke of poor sleep. They were not new, per se. Seto had noticed them in passing while they were not on speaking terms. The bruises were as prominent as ever, despite them having "made up." "Why are you taking such an interest now? You never gave a shit—" Jounouchi cut in, sharp as a knife. "What you said earlier, about being yours or dead? Pretty sure it's going to be the second soon cuz someone's taking a run at you. It ain't a small fry either. A small fry wouldn't make a move this bold. I don't wanna get caught in the crossfire because you're too damn stubborn to see that."

#series: Lure #puppyshipping #violetshipping #kaijou #yugioh #ygo #my fanfiction #tags have been updated for this chapter #if you give this a read reblogs/comments/tags are deeply appreciated thanks!#see y'all in 2024

46 notes · View notes

moonstonecanyon · 17 days

Text

COMMISSIONS OPEN AGAIN

Hello everyone..! Unfortunately, I am in a very rough patch financially rn and am struggling to keep up with car expenses and apartment bills, so I am opening commissions again! Please feel free to DM me here with any questions you may have!

Any and all reblogs are sincerely appreciated.

Please click over to my Commissions Page Google Doc if you are interested in commissioning me!! And thank you for reading this !

More examples of my artwork below the cut:

#any reblog or boost is DEEPLY appreciated :sobs:#open commissions #moonstonecanyon art

22 notes · View notes

simplyavatrice · 1 year

Text

the definition of insanity - chapter twelve

-------

Ava died today.

Like okay, it was only for about a minute but yeah, she fell from way the fuck up in the air because she had no real plan of escape and the halo gave out on her again and she fell.

A part of her thinks she should be scared or upset by this, and maybe in the back of her mind she is, but then she came back.

Unlike the first time she came back to life, scared and alone - screaming at the top of lungs, this time she came back in the arms of the woman she loves.

Please don’t leave me

Those words ring in Ava’s ears as she finishes her makeshift dinner and takes her bowl back to the kitchen of Dr. Salvius’ place and washes it.

Ava can't stop thinking about it. It’s not news to her that Beatrice loves her, but there’s something so warm and comforting in knowing someone in this world loves her that much. She went for so long feeling unwanted, to have Bea tell her she needs her, to know it truly goes both ways?

It heals her more than the halo ever could.

CONT ON AO3

#avatrice #avatrice fanfiction #warrior nun #warrior nun fanfiction #we're getting close to the end #this story has been a ride lol #thank you all so much #deeply deeply moved by the support for this story #reblogs appreciated

112 notes · View notes

scribbledghost · 1 year

Text

Bring Me Home

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader (no Y/N, gender neutral)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,529

Warnings: none

Notes: Some good old-fashioned comfort to open up the old blog again. Again, this blog will strictly be my writing blog. My main blog is still @wanderrghost! Gif by massivecolorspygiant.

The clear Kentucky morning gave him a perfect blue sky, a light breeze, and the scent of home. With his tires on whiterock and his engine rumbling from disuse, he drove down the long and winding lane that took him back to where he belonged.

The trees were greener than when he’d last seen them; leaves full and healthy as they wafted in the wind. The grass, now soft and thick compared to the coarse and dead that it’d been when he’d left, beckoned to him. Perhaps once he finished settling back in and unpacking, he’d sit beneath his favorite shade tree next to the pond. It had been frozen the last time he’d been near it; he could only imagine the life it held within now.

Jack Daniels had been away from home for a long time.

As he pulled into his usual parking spot in front of his garage, he attempted to gather his thoughts. How long had he been gone? It was the dead of Winter when he left, and it was the middle of Summer now. Six months? That sounded right, but he’d stopped counting the exact amount of time ages ago.Could’ve been more for all he knew, or cared, in that moment.

He’d hated being away from home - away from you - for so long, but it couldn’t be helped. Agent Champagne had made him an offer he couldn’t have refused: this one last major, dangerous, undercover job, and he’d get to be on regular desk duty from here on out. Officially retire from the field, be home in time for dinner every day, get weekends off. The whole “white picket dream” he’d been yearning for since before you’d even moved in with him years ago.

He finally had it, and he couldn’t wait to tell you all about it.

Of course, if you were even still around for him to tell. It was not lost on him that he hadn’t heard from you the entire time he was away, despite his numerous messages to you telling you he was alright and talking about how much he missed you. Tequila telling him you “must have found someone else” as a joke certainly didn’t help matters.

The walk to the front door was a short one, yet he could feel his legs growing more weary with each step. The flight back home had been a red-eye, overnight from some far-flung country, and he’d spent most of it doing his post-mission reports so as to get them out of the way. The agency had offered him a bed when he’d gotten onto the tarmac, but he’d turned it down. He had somewhere much more important to be and he’d spent long enough away from it.

The front door latched quietly behind him, the sound of it largely drowned out by the sound of running water coming from the kitchen. The sigh of relief that expelled from his lungs was palpable. Running water meant there was someone else in the house. He just hoped that someone was you, sans anyone else.

Jack hung his hat and jacket by the door, a habit he hadn’t practiced in the months since he’d been gone, but one that instantly returned with him. He untucked his white button-down shirt before loosening his tie as he walked across the room. He quietly observed the place as he did so - it seemed to be the same as when he’d left, with photos of the two of you still on the wall and his own objects on the shelves.

He thanked what little higher power he still believed in that Tequila’s premonition seemed to be incorrect.

Once he was in the doorway to the kitchen, he crossed his arms and leaned against the frame for a moment, simply observing as you washed dishes.

“Hey there, sugar.”

Jack watched as you startled, dropping the plate in your hands. The ceramic crashed to the tile, spreading shards of itself across the floor, and without thinking he immediately began to make his way to you, concern etching itself in his features.

“Jack?” you said, a tinge of disbelief in your voice as you stared at him with wide eyes. “I… what-”

“Easy, honey, easy,” he said softly, holding his hands out as if to ease a spooked animal, “don’t move. I’ll get it. I don’t want’cha steppin’ on any’a this.”

His boots crunched across the remains of the plate as he fetched a brush and dustpan from beneath the kitchen sink. He felt your hands, gentle on his back as he bent over to retrieve his items.

“Jack… I - I thought you were… I mean, I didn’t hear from you and it’s been so long, I… I thought-”

He stood back up, his chest inches from yours as he looked into your gaze.

It was as if you’d seen a ghost.

“You thought what, darlin’?” he asked, brows furrowing as he rested a hand on your cheek.

“I thought you were gone.”

“Gone?” he asked. “I mean, yeah, this last mission was a long one, but -”

“No, I mean… I mean gone.”

The way you said it punched him in the chest.

You’d thought he was dead.

“Didn’t’cha get any of my messages?” he asked softly, thumbing away an errant tear on your cheek, “I tried to send ‘em as often as I could, but I never heard nothin’ back. I thought… I thought maybe you’d just… up an’ left.”

“Messages?” you asked in a watery tone, “No, I never got anything, I sent you plenty of them too but never got a reply. I thought something had happened to you and they’d just kept it under wraps. Or that you’d left me and no one had the heart to tell me.”

“No, honey, never,” he said, his hand sliding to the back of your head as he pulled you to him. “I’d never do that to you, sugar.”

Your arms wrapped around his middle as you took shaky breaths into the fabric of his shirt. Meanwhile, Jack’s mind drifted elsewhere as his brow furrowed.

He’d never had any issue getting messages to you before, nor you to him. This was a new development, and considering it was during one of the longest missions he’d ever been on, it had an air of… intention to it. Somebody somewhere knew something, he was sure of it. He was reasonably sure he knew who that somebody was, but he sat the thought aside for later perusement. It wasn’t his priority now.

Jack gently pulled your head away before leaning in for a kiss. It was slow, methodical, and everything he’d thought about for months.

“Let me get this plate cleaned up, then we’ll talk, alright?”

You nodded, letting him go so he could sweep up the broken pieces of ceramic that lay scattered across the kitchen floor.

He was tired. Between the flight and the creeping worry that you’d vanished from his life and the sudden realization that someone was sabotaging the two of you, he was tired. True to his intelligence habits, he began to quickly compartmentalize what he could: the flight was over, you were still here, and he could pinpoint the saboteur tomorrow. For now, he could direct his focus to the task at hand, then he could take you into your shared bedroom and sleep the past six months away in peace.

The gentle swish-swish-swish of the brush on the kitchen tile plus the feeling of your hand on his shoulder soothed him. He leaned into you as much as he could, resting his head against your thighs every so often as he continued to clean.

Just a bit more. Just a few more areas of scattered debris, and he’d be done. Just a few… more…

Jack handed the brush and dustpan to you before pushing himself to stand. His joints cracked and popped and protested, but he paid them no mind as you sat the items on the kitchen counter and pulled him to you in another embrace as soon as he was upright. He reciprocated without a second thought, clinging to the lifeline you’d thrown to him as he treaded water out at sea. He let you reel him in, let you bring him ashore.

He let you bring him home.

“I missed you so much,” you said, the sound muffled by his shirt.

“I missed you too, baby,” he murmured, “more’n I can say.”

The quiet settled over you both once more, and before he knew what he was doing, Jack found himself gently swaying back and forth with you, dancing to a melody only he could hear. His eyes closed and he reveled in the feeling of having you in his arms. Then, again before he could stop himself-

“I’m so tired, darlin’.”

“Why don’t we go in and have a nap, then? Together.”

Jack only hummed in response, a sleepy smile creeping onto his face.

“I think I’d like that a lot.”

You pulled from him then, stealing one more kiss from him before taking his hand and guiding him away.

Finally, after far too long, Jack Daniels was home.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #if y'all could give this some love I'd deeply appreciate it #likes. reblogs. comments. anon asks. something/anything to make me feel like reopening this blog wasn't a colossal waste of time lol #ghost scribbles

142 notes · View notes

firewoodfigs · 10 months

Text

a study in reformation

Summary: She doesn’t like him, doesn’t like his hair, doesn’t like his face, doesn’t like his conceited attitude and the way he’s looking at her like she’s wasting his time (and not the other way round).

Roy doesn’t care.

the college au where Roy is still a pain in the ass, a thorn in the flesh and the bane of Riza's existence

tags: alternate universe - college/university, aka the au where roy gets to do all the grand romantic gestures that he never got to do in canon, enemies to friends to lovers, idiots in love, slow burn, angst, drama, hurt/comfort, fluff, humour, no war trauma just daddy issues!!!

inspired by the @royaiweek 2023 prompts (fake dating & haunted) 🌌

rated M | 6167 words | chapter seven

[🎧 playlist is available here!]

#royaiweek23 #royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #college AU #it’s been a long time coming!!!#probably my favourite chapter so far :)#also note the rating change for future chapters 🥰#reblogs and comments are always deeply appreciated ❤️

53 notes · View notes

macabreblublu · 1 year

Text

Muse

GhostSoap fic

It’s a break day and Soap is bored and moping about in his room. His pal Gaz comes to see the pitiful sight of his friend and tries to cheer him up. A certain someone comes marching down the hall and Gaz unintentionally becomes sort of a wingman which none of them were aware of

Fluff and a teeeny bit of angst

Please be kind, it's my first time sharing a fic I wrote publicly (even though I've written many unposted fics in the past for many fandoms and my writing skills are just ehhhh *cough) but I really do hope you all will enjoy it! And constructive criticism is appreciated but no negativity in the comments

And this is my first time writing for them as well so if it is OOC in any way or the written accents are butchered, please be patient I’m getting the hang of ‘em

Awrite let’s throw my anxiety out the window and let’s get into it-

………………………………………………………………………….

Soap was bored. Bored to the point that he couldn’t even muster up the energy to mess with Gaz.

He was currently on his creaky cot, upside down as his legs rested on the wall and his back and arms spread across the thin mattress. He looked like a child but being in the 141, no one would dare question him.

Except for the ones that are actually in the 141.

Speaking of.

“Oi Soap. The hell are you doin’?”. Gaz, his teammate and beloved friend, came into his room silently and unannounced. Soap must have forgotten to lock his door for whatever curious recruit to catch the undignified sight of him.

“‘M bored Gaz. Bored out o’ my miiind”. Soap whined, knowing fully Gaz saw right through his bullshit. The other man only crossed his arms, his lips upturning in a subtle frown.

“Mate, you never ge’ bored. You normally have plenty of things to do”, Gaz emphasized by extending his arms out, representing the number of things Soap would do or planned. The Scot could only roll his head to the side on his bed, grumbling in a fatigued manner.

“I knowww, but now the purpose of causing chaos has been drained out o’ me. I dinnae feel like myselfff”.

Gaz could only rest his face in his palm, used to his friend’s antics but he still couldn’t help but feel exhausted whenever Soap decided to act like this.

“What’s gotten into you mate…”, Gaz mumbled under his breath, massaging his temples and sighing heavily.

Gaz clicked his tongue.

“Alrigh’, how about you… sketch somethin’?”

“Mmm?...”, Soap only tilted his head upward, his body still in its listless position.

The sight of Soap laying on his bed with such a lethargic atmosphere around him was quite pathetic and almost pitiful if Gaz was honest, and he usually knew what to do to cheer his friend up in rare times like this. But his pocket of ideas were quite dusty now. Soap was the one who routinely had all kinds of turbulent schemes.

As he was pondering on what to propose to Soap, Gaz heard heavy steps outside of the room, where the narrow hall was. And with the weight of the individual, he almost felt it through the floor.

He knew who it was and he knew it was just the right person to cure Soap’s severe case of boredom. But he decided not to say anything, hoping Soap was not responsive enough to notice the person in the hallway until the last second. When the steps were just a few feet away from reaching the small room, Gaz tilted his upper body closer to the door and raised the back of his hand next to his cheek.

He coughed loudly on purpose.

“A–HEM- Eyy is that Ghost I hear?”, Gaz waited for a response from the man outside. In a few seconds, the heavy footsteps slowed down as they reached the door but didn’t stop.

A gruff but clear voice replied from the outside of the room, “Evenin’ Gaz”. A short answer, very much like Ghost. He didn’t stop to peer in the room and see Soap’s miserable state, he just strode past in a marching stance.

Wonder where good ol’ Ghost was headed. Probably off to traumatise faint-hearted recruits for evening drill sessions. Gaz personally wanted to see the result if it ever happened.

At the sound of Ghost’s distinct voice and accent, it was like watching a child hearing the jingle of an ice cream truck tune, moving at breakneck speed. Soap scrambled to roll onto his stomach on the bed, his legs swinging and hitting the thin metal bed frame.

The man didn’t even wince. Once the previously sluggish Scot was now standing in front of the other man, face beaming. Gaz could see how dishevelled his appearance looked. The type of t-shirt that Soap loved to wear that hugged his sturdy form was wrinkled and his usually prominent mohawk wasn’t prism-like. His hair more likely resembled a guinea pig’s ruffled fur.

Gaz wasn’t given any time to react as Soap rushed around his room, harshly opening one of his drawers that stored his coffee-brown sketchbook the size of his hand. He plopped the sketchbook that had many dog-eared pages and corners of dirty or singed sheets of paper poking out in every direction onto his desk. He looked in his cracked mirror and fixed his mohawk and straightened his navy blue t-shirt.

As Gaz stood there stunned by his friend’s astounding speed, Soap said with renewed energy.

“Well Gaz, that is a pure dead brilliant idea! And there goes my muse!”, Soap searched his drawers once again for his pencil. Once he found it, he slammed the drawer close and leapt across the small room to find Ghost. But not before sticking his arm in the room with half of his body outside, “Thank ye Gaz, byee!”. The man in the room could practically hear the wide genuine smile in the sentence. And with that, off went the now cheery Scot.

There’s the Soap we all know.

Gaz, arms crossed back, chuckled to himself.

“Heheh, have fun mate”.

Soap roamed the base, trying to find his gloomy lieutenant. Sketchbook and pencil in one of the large pockets of his cargo pants.

He quickly waved to many of his fellow soldiers who passed by, not stopping for a quick chat. Dead set on his mission to find his muse. He asked a few people if they have seen the whereabouts of Ghost and most of them pointed to the shooting range.

Of course, he was there, most likely letting off steam. Soap jogged to his destination.

Once there, he spotted Ghost immediately. Who wouldn’t from a mile away?

Huge tall lad, built like a bloody fridge and clad in tactical gear even though he was not on a mission. His infamous skull mask ever-present. While others shivered at his presence, Soap felt warmth when near him.

He called out from the entrance of the shooting range, “Ey Ghost!”, to not startle the big man. Not that it was even possible to startle The Ghost but he had a rifle in his hand. Best to be extra careful.

Ghost halted, his neck straightening from its bent position beside the firearm. He looked over to Soap who was making his way over to him.

“Evenin’ Soap”, Ghost lowered his gun but still stood in his prior stance in case Soap just wanted to say hi and he could go back to shooting. But with how the Scot was jogging to him, he might as well put the gun back to entertain whatever Soap was about to do.

“Evenin’! Aye, I’ve got a favour ta ask of ye”, Soap stopped in front of the tall man, a respectable distance between them.

The lieutenant cleared his throat briefly. “What is it, Johnny?”. Now Ghost used his real name, seeing that no one was around to eavesdrop and he felt a bit more comfortable calling Soap his name.

“Could you be my muse? Just for a wee bit o’ time, I feel like sketchin’ somethin’”, Soap pulled his small sketchbook out of his pocket, showing it to Ghost.

Ghost was… surprised? He knew the sergeant asked all kinds of things at the most random times but this was not what he expected.

The Brit tossed that train of thought aside, not wanting to be rude and leave Soap unanswered and seem like an idiot standing there wide-eyed at the man’s request.

“Sure, why no’?”, Ghost simply replied. He walked to the mounted wall racks that had numerous types of firearms lined up next to each other, dusted off the one he just used and placed it on the rack. The shorter man stood there stunned for a moment but then his eyes almost twinkled at that.

“Wow, dinnae expec’ ye ta actually say yes”, Soap smiled. He rubbed the back of his neck, now feeling a strange sense of giddiness.

“I’m no’ doin’ much now, these shots were too easy anyway”. If Soap didn’t know any better, he would think his lieutenant was blatantly showing off. But he had all the right to do so.

He was the epitome of a soldier; executing feats with deadly military precision, efficiency like no other. And the dummies metres away in front of them proved it.

Headshots to each, dead centre and flawless. Maybe one or two bullet holes to where the hearts should be.

“Well, you are the best L.T.”, Soap chuckled. He resisted the urge to rock on his heels, now unsure of how to proceed so he waited for Ghost.

“So ehh, righ’ now then?”, Soap decided to cut the silence before it got any longer. Ghost squared his shoulders, his way of “shrugging”. “Lead the way Johnny”, the taller man raised a hand, pointing to the exit. “Well, to my room then! It’s easier fer me ta concentrate”, Soap spun on his heels smiling but not before realizing what his choice of destination could’ve implied. He coughed after that, feigning it as though he just needed to clear his throat. Definitely not because he felt his face flush the tiniest bit. Luckily his back was turned to Ghost.

He didn’t notice how Ghost’s shoulders jerked at the same sentence, almost immediately after Soap said it.

Did he hear that right? Did Soap have to choose his own room? He felt like backing out and going back to shooting shotguns loud enough to drown his thoughts. But before he knew it, his legs moved him forward, following Soap. On their journey to Soap’s room, Ghost tried his damnedest to not fidget and seem like a teenager on their way to the closet for a ‘seven minutes in heaven’ session. While he tried, thoughts began popping back into his mind.

How did he agree to this? Why did he even agree to this? Sure he humoured Soap a little here and there, especially after Las Almas and became a bit more fond of the fiery Scot but…

Why did he choose him? There were other better looking… people that Soap could use as a muse. Was he ugly? Strange? Maybe that’s why Soap chose him as a muse because he was unusual. Stood out from everyone.

Then a blaring thought came last and flooded his mind.

Soap was going to be closer now that he wanted to sketch him… What if he wanted Ghost to take his mask off agai-

“Alrighty, we’re here!”.

Without even realising it, Ghost was already in front of Soap’s room together with the man. Why did it feel so… he didn’t know how to describe it.

Intimate?

Oh for God’s sake Simon it’s just Johnny and his room. It’s the same as bursting into a room to wake up a measly recruit sleeping in like a-

“Ghost?”.

Soap called him out of his thoughts, opening his door to signal that he is indeed going to have to go into his room.

He took a step in as his thoughts erupted once again.

Right Simon, just get in… Hell what is he supposed to do? Pose? Just stand there? Well, Johnny is going to guide me. Oh hell, why did that sound-

Ghost stiffly stood in the small room, in front of Soap’s bed as the owner shut the door and switched the lights on. He squinted at how close the light was to his face, his height betraying him. “You can sit down Ghost”, Soap gestured to the chair by his desk. The cushion looked flattened, probably from the times when Soap spent doodling in his sketchbook during break days.

It took him three steps to reach the chair. He sat down and then noticed the other man has not sat down anywhere. He seemed to be scanning something, his eyes gliding occasionally to him and around the room.

“Where ‘re you goin' ‘a sit?”. Maybe Ghost should have switched with Soap and sat on the floor or something-

“Ah, ‘m just tryin’ ta see where is the best spot to get the right angle”. Soap seemed to be really serious about this. But then again, Ghost knew that whatever he was passionate about, Soap would do his best to go about it.

“I can just sit on the bed”, Soap finally decided and plopped onto the bed, the frame creaking from the sudden weight. Ghost almost winced at the awful sound of it but he sat still, composed and waiting for Soap’s guidance.

As his companion flipped the many messy pages of his sketchbook, Ghost sat on the chair stiffly, his shoulders tense, his forearms resting on his thighs. He thought about the poses he could be in and which was best for a reference and the least awkward for both of them. Then as if Soap could hear his internal thoughts, he told him, “You can pose however you want Ghost, ‘m just tryin’ ta practice something simple”.

At that simple statement, Ghost tried to think of a pose he could get into long enough for Soap to get the whole gesture and comfortable enough for himself to not think about the awkward tension in the air.

He took a while and thought long and hard about his choices. Until Soap broke his concentration.

“Ah, that’s good Ghost, you can stay like that for a bit”, Soap gave him a thumb’s up and immediately started sketching away.

“Hmm?”.

Ghost looked at himself. The chair’s back was turned to the table and he must’ve unconsciously got his arms onto the desk, leaning back as he did so. His legs were just man-spread in front of him. Overall a very casual pose. And Ghost didn’t even have to think too hard.

That’s one step done correctly Simon. He smiled to himself.

Ghost allowed the tension in his shoulders to dissolve, breathing evenly to steady his nerves. He took in the scent of the room.

Even though Soap was infamous for carrying all kinds of explosives, his room didn’t smell anything like it. It was almost aromatic. Soap did like to spend a little-more-than-normal amount of time in the showers and always came out of the steaming hot room with a pleasant scent and a beaming smile.

Not that Ghost was close enough to smell him directly and definitely not because he even made the effort to remember the specific shampoo he used.

No, it was the heat from the shower room diffusing the smell all around.

Yes, that.

Ghost estimated that he had been sitting here for at least three minutes and noticed Soap’s quick scratches on the paper slow down to more controlled strokes. But then he stopped. He had a pout on his face, tapping the pencil on his chin.

Ghost half-expected the next request coming from Soap but was still taken aback.

“Ey Ghost? Could you take off yer gear? I can’t see the anatomy clearly”, Soap said but added quickly after realising he might’ve made Ghost a bit uncomfortable.

“Only if yer okay with it though, I can manage-

“No, I can take i’ off”.

Ghost still sat in the chair but proceeded to unbuckle his chest gear and laid it down on the desk behind him. Then he moved to unbuckle the ones on his legs until Soap stopped him.

“No no just the top, I can figure out the legs just fine”, Soap made an ‘okay’ sign earnestly before adding, “Thank ye Ghost, you can put it back on once I’m done yeah?”.

Ghost hummed in response, rising from trying to unlatch his knee guards. As he got back to his prior position, Soap “ooh” ed in approval.

“Ahh, that’s braw Ghost, now I’ll get the sketch done nicely in no time!”. Soap grinned and gave him a double thumbs up before sketching away again.

Another thing done correctly Simon, better not mess this up.

Also, what did “braw” mean?

“I gotta say Ghost, you do look good. Without all that tactical gear blockin’ ye”.

Soap continued like he didn’t just compliment Ghost about his looks.

After spending some time with the Scot, he knew he was unabashed at dropping borderline flirty lines or compliments here and there but that didn’t stop Ghost from blue-screening whenever it was directed at him.

Still, he remained composed.

“Keep it tactical, sergeant”.

Soap chuckled. “Just accept it Ghost, why else would I choose you to be my muse?”.

Again, the bloody bastard does it again. Thank god they were having a break day, this would go on forever.

Not that Ghost minded it.

But normally he would be used to people fearing him and whispering all sorts of things about him being the infamous Ghost, lieutenant of the 141 Task Force that made even mercenaries stain their pants.

But this? Small words of admiration from a man who seemed to thaw his cold heart like no other? He felt like he wouldn’t have enough of it. And if he had to be honest, he didn’t want it to stop.

He… liked it-

Stay focused on the objective Simon.

Soap’s pencil strokes seemed to be more minute now, his pencil only focusing on some areas before moving to another one. His wrist rotating, the butt of the pencil moving up and down constantly.

How long has it been? He must’ve been finalising the sketch, he should be done soon.

Ghost checked his watch; it’s been 45 minutes. He didn’t realise time passed so quickly. For some reason, he felt like he could stay a bit longer. Being a muse wasn’t so bad.

Flattering even. Soap didn’t think he was “ugly”, he complimented him twice.

But Ghost knew that Soap was almost done with his sketch and somewhere from deep inside his cold heart, he felt… disappointed.

Why…?

Before his thoughts could continue, Soap called out.

“All done Ghost! I have ta say, I think I did a good job”. The proud artist widely smiled to himself, admiring his work. Extending his book away from his face, viewing it from different angles.

If Ghost dared to think it, it was almost amusing.

“Can I see it?”. Ghost’s voice came out soft, not wanting to interrupt Soap’s joy.

“You sure?”.

Ghost huffed slightly, but no bite behind it.

“I didn’t just sit here for almost an hour just to have a drawing of me butchered”.

I know you did great Johnny. He wanted to say.

“Awrite then, here ye go”, Soap handed the book to him, his calloused fingers almost brushing Ghost’s covered ones. None of them mentioned it. Ghost gently took the book and felt the roughness and smoothness of the papers.

Some pages felt like sandpaper and others as thin as the softest leaf. If he even knew. He can’t recall the last time he felt a fresh plant, being in the military and all only allowed him to feel coarse sand and rough tattered fabric.

He looked at the page Soap was sketching. He was something of an artist himself –having designed his whole left sleeve– and Soap’s sketch was almost a replica of him. And his little touch-ups were quite nice.

Soap got all the shading right, maybe dramatised it at some corners but that gave it a bit more life in a way. Almost like those comic book styles he’d see when he would pass by stores on urban missions. He did get inspiration for his tattoo sleeve from that. Then he looked at the overall pose he was drawn in.

Soap got quite the angle. Ghost could see that his torso looked to be almost exaggerated. Especially his chest and arms. From his shoulders down to his waist, he could see that his long-sleeved shirt was drawn to be snug around his figure. Well, at least that wasn’t far off from the truth. He was a big man and if Ghost had to be honest, most of the attire he owned had always been… just nice. His shoulders were drawn to look strong and sturdy and his arms, lean but a few curves of his muscles were accentuated. And then, his mask. Ghost wondered how he didn’t notice the details put into the darkest part of the sketch. The angle of his head was tilted upwards, just the slightest bit and the folds of his balaclava were sketched delicately. The skull face plate was a nice contrast to the dark shade of the balaclava and inside the eye holes, he could see that Johnny actually cared to add his eyes in.

He even got the shape and proportions right.

It truly was flattering to see the hard work put into this mere sketch of him. And to think this was done on a roughly A6-sized sketchbook in less than an hour.

“Uhh, Ghost? Is the sketch too ugly for ye-

“No.”

Ghost cleared his throat.

“It’s… incredible Johnny, really. I’m…”. Ghost felt speechless. So many thoughts went through his mind and he couldn’t even begin to get one of them out to properly express his gratitude.

He had seen a few posters of himself and his team drawn to look serious, deadly and overall hardened. In Soap’s sketch, it was quite the opposite.

Instead of the rigid stance he would normally be in 24/7, he was relaxed. Soap captured the tension melting away from his shoulders and unclenched fists hanging off the desk’s edge as if it was alive that he felt a sense of serenity just by looking at it.

It was almost, dare he say, tender.

“You sure? You were frownin-

“Yes, I’m sure. I just can’t get the right words out… It’s… wonderful, Johnny”.

Ghost was quick to catch the unfamiliar tone of uncertainty in Soap’s usual proud voice. He wanted to kill that tone that didn’t fit Soap at all.

Now it was Soap’s turn to be left speechless. His mouth was left slightly agape and his eyes widened at how softly Ghost praised his work. He knew his lieutenant wasn’t the best at words besides barking orders that leave you quaking in your boots but he knew Ghost was honest when he got like this. Las Almas thought him that.

Thank ye… Ghost. I’m glad ye like it”, Soap smiled, beaming once again. Ghost felt his heart thump at that smile that resembled the happiest of puppies. He huffed, his version of a chuckle and handed the book to the owner.

“Glad I was done justice by you Johnny, knew I could trust you”. Soap chuckled.

“How about ye keep it then? You seem ta like it a lot”. He held the book in his hand, tapping on the hard thin cover in anticipation.

“I’m no’ a narcissist Johnny, you keep it. It’s your hard work”.

I’m not worthy enough of your gift.

“Ahh c’mon, it’s one of my ways of sayin’ thanks for putting up with my bullshit haha”.

“It’s no trouble”.

Only for you Johnny.

“You keep it. I recognised the work you put in for me. Thought you might want to look up to it when I’m not around”.

Soap chuckled.

“Heh, what do ye mean by that L.T.?...”, he asked, brows beginning to furrow. Soap hoped Ghost didn’t mean anything by that.

“By wha’?”, Ghost replied nonchalantly.

“What do ye mean by ‘when yer not around’?”.

Ghost’s eyebrows rose. That’s what he was focused on?

“You should know Johnny”, he tells him with no bite behind it, “Solo missions for hell knows how long, a stray bulle’-

“No!”.

Ghost was taken aback at Soap’s immediate change in tone, his eyes widened. By then, Soap had lunged from his bed and grasped Ghost’s biceps firmly. Almost like he was about to fall off a cliff and Soap was just in time to save him. That was the force Ghost felt and he had to admit, it hurt.

But not as much as seeing Soap’s expression. He looked like he was afraid of losing him.

He’s sure that was the look. That was what he felt back at Las Almas. When he foolishly separated from whatever was left of his team.

From Soap.

Ghost was extremely tense in Soap’s solid grip and he stayed that way, unsure of what to do in this situation. The other man realised his actions and released his grip, resulting in the both of them sitting in their respective places in awkward silence. Soap resorted to tapping on his sketchbook and Ghost was just about ready to leave the room.

After a few minutes passed by which felt like an unbearably painful amount of time for them, Ghost slowly rose from his seat. He let the familiar tension consume his form again and addressed Soap in an authoritative tone, the way a superior dismissed themself from their subordinate.

“Sergeant.”. He nodded briefly and he turned to the door coolly, unlike his emotions within. Until the man behind him called out.

“Wait!”. Ghost turned. Soap was standing now, an arm shot out towards him but now that he was looking at him, Soap’s arm slowly fell to his side. His fist clenching and unclenching. Like he was unsure of what to do or say. He held his head low, unable to meet his lieutenant's eyes. He shouldn’t have done that, now his efforts to get to know his lieutenant were foiled-

“Johnny”. Soap’s head shot up and was met with the closeness of Ghost’s figure, mere inches away from each other without him noticing. He craned his neck to face Ghost. If his internal emotions weren’t clashing, he would’ve called him a bawbag for being a tree.

“Are you… worried for me, Johnny?”. Ghost asked calmly, standing still but willing his body to release the tension to seem relaxed and not unnerve Soap. He looked uncomfortable enough. Ghost didn’t know what to do. Should he leave? Forget this ever happened to save Soap from prolonged embarrassment? He could do that but it felt wrong to just leave Johnny there. He had to do something.

“You could say I am… We’re a… team, no?”, Soap folded his arms behind his back, not trusting his fidgety fingers to be seen by Ghost. He didn’t know exactly why he burst out the way he did but the way Ghost dropped that so casually as though he accepted his death was literally right around the corner… triggered something in him. He brought his head back down, unable to hold eye contact with Ghost. He felt the slightest bit of pressure behind his eyes, it made his eyes sting.

“Yes we are, but you know casualties should be expected. It should be second nature by now…”. Ghost hated how he couldn’t find the words to comfort Soap but it was the truth. The military was not a place of promises but inevitable death was a well-known fact there. And being in a task force specially formed to handle deadly missions only increased the chances.

Soap stayed silent, his face hidden from Ghost who hadn’t done anything to make a move. Ghost could hear the other man’s soft breathing, that was how quiet it was in the room. Not even the sound of the vent up high in the walls disturbed them. Until Soap mumbled under his breath.

“After what we’ve been through… all that time we spent… all those jokes you shared just to keep me company at Las Almas… Hell, you even distracted me from my bleedin’ arm, practically forgot about it at the time. And now you drop that like I can just forget about it? Like you… you don’t mean anythin’ to me…?”.

Ghost stood absolutely stunned. He didn’t even bother to control how his eyes widened at that confession. It pinched his heart unpleasantly.

“Johnny I didn’t- I didn’t know that you felt that way-

A pair of thick, warm arms crushed him before he could even finish. He let out a sound of surprise and pain, the embrace unintentionally squeezing a bruise on his back from a mission that had yet to heal. But he ignored it, in a way relieved that Johnny made the first move. Despite letting out a metaphorical sigh of relief, he didn’t know what to do with his arms as they were trapped by the other man. Ghost’s left arm instinctively twitched and it caused the other man to loosen his hold, allowing Ghost to move. But to Ghost’s bewilderment, his own arm moved to Soap’s back in an attempt to return the embrace as best as it could. Soap’s face was buried in Ghost’s chest and even though his expression was hidden from him, he noticed the small gesture from the taller man and moved his other arm to allow Ghost to fully embrace him.

He did. As awkward as it was, Soap seemed content with it because his crushing hold relaxed, shifting to a comfortable pressure for Ghost. The taller man kept his arms on the other man’s back, steadying his nerves in hopes of calming his increasingly rapid heartbeat.

Ghost swore he felt his face heat up but he chalked it up to his racing heart pumping blood throughout his body at a concerning pace.

They stood there for a long while, a comfortable silence blessed upon them. Soap chose to keep his face nestled and Ghost felt at peace feeling the pressure of Soap’s warm hug.

“Ahh… that’s a nice sound…”, Soap uttered, a smile evident in his voice. Ghost snapped out of his reverie.

“Hmm?”.

Soap chuckled before answering, “Your strong heartbeat next to my ears… assures me that you’re here and alive…”.

Ghost has been to many bars, too many for his liking and he has heard countless sweet drunken confessions. This was almost like it, but it didn’t sound fake. And he felt satisfied, delighted even that it was directed at him.

“Are you drunk on something Johnny? Are you bein’ for real?”.

“Nah”, Soap turned his head so that his ear was directly on Ghost’s chest, “I’m bein’ serious”. And to tug at the taller man’s heartstrings, he looked up with his eyes and in Ghost’s eyes, he swore he saw them shining.

Yeah, Ghost felt his heart soaring that he got to see this tender side of Soap. And he wanted to waste not a single drop of this sweet taste he didn’t get to savour much as a child. Or in a long time for that matter. He was glad that he got to share this moment with Soap.

More silence before Soap spoke once again.

“Ey Simon, what time is it?”, Soap asked while his cheek was pressed against Ghost’s chest, his arms still around the taller man’s torso.

Ghost felt his heart pick up the pace at the mention of his name. He didn’t want to lift the arm that wore his watch so he searched for a clock in the room.

None. How in the hell can Soap function without one?

He inwardly scowled at the fact that he had to lift his arm to check his watch.

He almost did a double-take. Good lord, it was already 20:00. How long exactly had he spent time here? It didn’t matter, it was a break day and not many knew Ghost’s whereabouts when they were given those days. People think he either isolated himself in the gym or shooting range or somewhere deep within the base and honestly, they’re not wrong. But today, he already had his daily amount of shooting heads off dummies and if it weren’t for Soap pulling him out of his boring routine, he would have gone back to his dark room to drown in his troublesome thoughts.

“It’s 2000”. He wished he didn’t tell the time.

He felt the warmth slipping away from him as Soap unlatched his arms from his torso and Ghost almost stopped him from doing so, his hands faltering mid-air from where they were situated on Soap’s back. He swiftly put them back down to his sides but unclenched his anxious fists to seem composed. He hoped Soap didn’t catch his actions.

“Well, I guess you’ll be off then eh?”, Soap folded his arms behind his back again. He almost had a wistful look on his face. He didn’t need to know that Ghost returned the same feeling internally.

“Righ’... I’ll see you tomorrow then Johnny”. Ghost turned to head out the door but something left in him stopped him. His brain gave him an idea, a chance to spend the rest of the day with Soap.

“Oh hell, I just remembered…”.

“What?”.

A long pause before Ghost replied. “They’re… renovatin’ my room”.

Ghost turned as he heard Soap made a sound of mocking disbelief, a mix between a laugh and a huff.

“The hell are they renovation’ yer room for?”.

Ghost’s gears grinded in his mind, punching it to come up with a credible reason.

“The ceilin’ fell through… Must’ve been the new recruits causin’ a ruckus above”. He cringed at how that sounded like complete and utter bullshit. But Soap didn’t seem to catch on it. In fact, he seemed pleased at it.

“Ah, you know how kids are nowadays L.T. Breakin’ a few buildin’s here an’ there!”, he chuckled before adding, “You’re welcome to bunk in my room for the time bein’ Ghost, I don’ mind”.

Soap didn’t even question it.

Ghost almost clapped his hands at the success of his half-arsed idea that came in the spur of the moment.

But he kept cool to not expose his excitement, threading the waters before diving in completely.

“You sure? Not afraid that I’ll kick your arse out of bed if you slept in in the mornin’?”.

Soap let out a hearty laugh, “Try me Simon, I sleep like a rock”. The smirk that Soap had only accentuated his face and gave Ghost all the more reason to stay in Soap’s room the rest of the evening. He wasn’t planning on going any further than that for tonight – that was for another time and he didn’t plan on it for a while – but for now, he wanted to savour this sweet feeling he had blooming in him before he had to shove it down during the day.

Ghost lightly chuckled, “Oh I’ll try Johnny”.

In the end, both men turned in for the night, freshly showered and tucked in Soap’s creaky bed. They started out with their backs turned against each other but as their slumber deepened, they ended up wrapped in each other’s arms.

Warm and content, smiles subconsciously formed on their peaceful faces whenever their soft breaths tickled each other’s necks.

#blu scribbles #call of duty #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #I wrote this like I was breathing so if there’s any thing with the plot #ignore it #I really had to get it out of my system 😭#oop wait almost forgot #kyle gaz garrick #reblogs are deeply appreciated 🙏🏼💙💙✨#I don’t see much ghostsoap fics on tumblr so pls spread this around #so I can meet more ghostsoap writers👀

48 notes · View notes

alaraxia · 10 months

Text

really wish there were distinct ‘like’ and ‘bookmark’ options for posts because over the years I pretty much just use likes sparingly to save things for reference or inspo. Makes me feel bad not liking posts and art I genuinely do like because it makes it harder to find refs again

#need to actually use my alt more to like and reblog things but having multiple full blogs is annoying to swap between #have to have it open in a whole dif browser and can’t easily swap on mobile so it’s just desktop for it #this is all to say I appreciate a lot of yalls art and posts deeply I’ve just backed myself into a corner of feature use #it’s entirely a me problem ik #text #been here like a decade I’m set in my ways

29 notes · View notes

midnight-the-goth-artist · 26 days

Text

I guess I should let new followers know this-

But if you see me reblog art or characters of three characters from the BubbleTea Squad ( @bubbletea-squad ), that is actually a project I am working on with my own original characters.

I want BubbleTea Squad to be an indie cartoon, but it’s still in the very beginning stages (and it will be for a little while- I still need to graduate high school lol)

As of right now I’m only making illustrations of Berry Blast, Lisha, and Levi (the BubbleTea Squad) but I’m also trying to make comics before moving forward to animating them.

BubbleTea Squad is my number one passion project, and it’s my dream to see this succeed one day.

Even if you are here for my KND art or any other fandom I’m in, it would still mean the world to me if you supported BubbleTea Squad 💖