Dramatic Inspo For Your Art, Writing & Ocs

f/o seeing you across the room and looking away embarrassedly as you look back or blow a kiss at them

😠.

i need to draw me with my f/o

(affirming myself in the mirror) if that fictional man was real he would fuck you. He would fuck you. You're his exact type. If he saw you he'd get a boner instantly. He would fuck you he would fu

Ohhh [fictional character with worse mental health than me] save meeeee from this cruel world.

me when i find a new fandom to obsess over vs me when the characters start tormenting my mind

You deserve a calm relationship that's good for your mental health, heart, and nervous system. A lover who's your bestie, your safe space, and soothes your soul during stressful situations. Life is tough enough – you deserve someone who brings you peace, not problems.

Having a really long-term hyperfixation that has since faded is terrifying yes but it's also so embarrassing. Hi I used to think about Scrimblo Splungus 25/7. Yeah, for 2 years straight. Nah, I don't think about them anymore except for with a vague sense of melancholy as I recall how they used to make me feel. Anyways this new one, Blimpkins McGee? I'm gonna think about them forever and the cycle will NOT repeat in 2 years. Trust me guys.

gentle hands

Simon opens his eyes, turning his head slightly to look at you. Your eyes meet his. You lean down to kiss him slowly, softly.  When you pull away, Simon speaks, his voice softer now, “I missed this. Just bein’ home, with you.” You smile, a mixture of understanding and love in your eyes. “I missed you too,” you whisper, your fingers tracing patterns on his shoulder.

Simon arrives home after a particularly tough mission

warnings: none

Ghost found himself recovering from a tough mission, his body weary and spirit longing for a moment of solace. He was on his way home, allowed a short-term leave after the mission went successfully. It was by no means an easy mission, it took a toll on him. He felt more exhausted, more drained, than normal. He just wanted a moment of peace, a moment of quiet, where he could just relax.

When he arrived at the front door of your shared apartment, he took a breath. He fumbled with hands for a moment, pulling his keys out and unlocking the door. He calls out your name as he kicks the door shut, setting his things down on the kitchen counter.

You were in the living room, sitting on the couch in your pajamas, engrossed in a book, the soft hum of music playing in the background. Hearing Simon’s voice, you looked up from the pages and a smile bloomed on your face. You spring up from the couch as he walks into the living room. The sight of him, battle-worn but alive, brought a sense of relief. 

“Hey there, big man,” you said, your voice a comforting melody. Simon turns towards you, a half-smile forming on his lips. His fatigue seemed to momentarily lift as he looked at the smile on your face.

“Hey,” he replied, the weariness evident in his voice. You closed the distance between you, and he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the residue of whatever he was doing on mission slowly melting away in the comfort of your presence.

“Rough one, huh?” you ask, pulling back slightly to look at him. He nods, his eyes revealing a layer of exhaustion.

“Yeah, tougher than usual,” Ghost admitted. “But we got the job done.”

You led him to the couch, and he sank into it with a sigh, his body appreciating the respite. You disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water for him. As he took a sip, you studied his features, noting the subtle scars and bruises that adorned his face.

“Anything I can do?” you asked, genuine concern in your voice. Simon shook his head, appreciating the simple offer.

“Just bein’ here ‘s enough,” he replied, setting the glass aside. You sat down beside him, your presence a soothing balm to his aching body. You begin to run your hands down his arms, feeling the tension of his muscles under his clothes.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” you question softly, running your hands down his arm and to his hand, squeezing it in your grip.

He tilts his head over towards you, eyes drooping slightly.

“Sounds lovely,” he grunts, nodding his head.

You rose gracefully from the couch, giving Simon’s hand a reassuring squeeze before disappearing into the bathroom. You turned the tap, adjusting the water temperature to perfection, adding a hint of soothing helichrysum oil.

Simon, in the meantime, made his way to the bedroom, peeling off his tactical gear and clothes, revealing a body marked by the trials of combat. He finally slips his mask off, folding it neatly on top of his pile of clothes. He took a deep breath as he heard the water cascading into the tub. The scent of helichrysum wafted through the air, a fragrant promise of relaxation.

When everything was ready, you returned to him, gently guiding him towards the bathroom. The steam from the bath enveloped him as he sank into the warm water, the tension in his muscles slowly dissipating. You perch on the edge of the tub, watching him with tenderness and slight concern. 

As Simon closed his eyes, surrendering to the comforting embrace of the bath, you dipped a washcloth into the water and began to delicately clean the black paint from around his eyes. The touch of your hands was gentle, a welcome contrast from roughing it on base. 

“I appreciate this,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. 

A warm smile appears on your face as you carefully pour warm water over his head, letting it cascade down his hair and down his neck. Simon closes his eyes, feeling the comforting touch of the water against his scalp.

As you began to work shampoo through Simon’s hair, your fingers massaging his scalp, Simon let out a contented sigh. The stress and exhaustion of the mission slowly melted away, replaced by a sense of peace. Your gentle hands made him feel cared for, safe. 

“You deserve this,” you replied softly. “Let me take care of you for a change.”

The bathroom was filled with a soothing silence, broken only by the sound of water trickling and your quiet breaths. Your touch is tender, each stroke of your hands carrying a touch of affection. Simon relished in the simplicity of the moment, the way you were so gentle with him.

Simon opens his eyes, turning his head slightly to look at you. Your eyes meet his. You lean down to kiss him slowly, softly. 

When you pull away, Simon speaks, his voice softer now, “I missed this. Just bein’ home, with you.”

You smile, a mixture of understanding and love in your eyes. “I missed you too,” you whisper, your fingers tracing patterns on his shoulder.

Once the bath has worked its magic, you help Simon to his feet, helping him wrap a plush towel around his waist. The scent of the bath oil lingered on his skin, a comforting reminder of the care you’d provided for him. The two of you returned to the bedroom, where a set of fresh clothes awaited him.

Simon changed into sweats and a soft t-shirt, a welcome change from his heavy tactical gear. He settles onto the bed, groaning with relief as his back hits the mattress. You giggle as he lays silently in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Just as you’re about to grab a cup of tea, Simon is grabbing your wrist tightly, pulling you back towards the bed. 

“‘M sleepy,” he complains. “Can’t sleep very well without you.”

You lean down to kiss him on the cheek, gently pulling your wrist from his grip. 

“I’m just going to get you a cup of tea—”

“No, ‘ve already gotten enough princess treatment from you—” he grunts, sitting up from his position to manhandle you into bed with him. 

You sigh in defeat, arms coming to wrap around his neck as he pulls you on top of him. His hands travel up from your thighs to your waist, pulling you tight against him. He only removes his hands from you for a quick second to pull the covers up on the bed. 

The warmth of the bed enveloped both of you as you settled into the cozy cocoon of blankets. Simon’s weariness was evident, yet his grip on you was firm, as if afraid that if he let go, the world would pull him back into its relentless demands.

You chuckled at his antics, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You're stubborn, you know that?”

“Only to you,” he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes, his hands still holding you close.

You snuggled against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the ambient sounds of the night outside. Simon’s exhaustion seemed to ebb away as he held you, finding solace in the simple act of being close.

You traced circles on his chest, your fingers moving rhythmically as if to lull him into a peaceful slumber. Simon’s gaze softened as he looked down at you.

“Y’know,” he began, his voice a gentle murmur, “coming home to you is the best part of any mission.”

Your heart swelled with pride at his words. “And having you here is the best part of my day.”

He smiled, a genuine, tired smile. Simon’s hands traced gentle patterns on your back. The lines of fatigue on his face were replaced by an expression of peacefulness, a quiet acknowledgment that, for now, the battles were outside and the peace was within.

“Tea can wait,” Simon mumbled, his eyes heavy with sleep.

You nodded, snuggling even closer. “Go to sleep, my big sleepy man.”

And with that, the two of you drifted into a peaceful slumber, finding refuge in the sanctuary of your bedroom, happy to be reunited once more.

So... I found this and now it keeps coming to mind. You hear about "life-changing writing advice" all the time and usually its really not—but honestly this is it man.

I'm going to try it.