Text
In less than two hours I was able to write five pages (more like four whole pages and a quarter) that came to almost a thousand words meanwhile every other time in my life im fighting and sobbing trying to break 500-
I think this might be a sign that I should write by hand more than typing up
#tj talks#hoping I dont jinx myself by this lmao#my goal was to get five pages by sunday on midnight and then i just put on my playlist and zoned out#i forgot how satisfying it is to write by hand- except for the constant hand cramping-#but i think this may be a sign that im more productive when i write with simple pen and paper then on the computer??? idk#im still trying to figure out how to be a productive writer ill let you guys know more as time goes on lol#also fun fact about me is that i have HORRID handwriting just chicken scratch#but i havent written anything over break so finally getting through is something small that im proud of myself for
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
ROMANTIC IMAGINE: Miguel O'hara visits you when you call in sick
i know how to write things other then headcannons i swear. theyre just so EASY. you can request actual fics lmao. promise! This was intended as romantic btw, but you can interperate this however you want!
WARNING: descripion of wounds/blood, description of burns, overprotectiveness,
Miguel lands on your balcony with a heavy thump, his landing was a little awkward from trying to swing with only one hand, but he managed well enough. The Tupperware in his hand looked a little worse for wear, though.
Almost every fibre of him wanted to turn around and forget about this, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to, he needed to know you were ok.
You had called off sick from work yesterday, and you didn't show up today either. In all the time you were working at Alchemex you’ve never done that before. The secretary had told him you sounded like you were in a lot of pain over the phone, so it was obvious you were unwell in some way or another. He’s been worried ever since.
This felt stupid. Over dramatic, even. But he’d gone to his brother for advice, and this is what he had given him: Their moms classic Pozole recipe, The same recipe him and his brother ate while growing up. Obviously Miguel protested, adamantly. he hadn’t cooked for anyone in a very long time. He wasn’t even sure if he’d still be able to… His brothers response?
“Do you want my help or not?”
So Miguel scrounged around the kitchen for what he needed. He squinted to read his mothers old chicken scratch from all those years ago. He put in the work, as uncomfortable as he felt, And He packaged it and come all the way here.
And now he didn’t know how to go forward.
He had never felt more out of his element in his life. As he Stood outside your window with the soup in his freakish claws he realised he didn’t know where to go from there. He hadn’t thought further than this point. What would he say when he gave it to you? What would he even do after that?
He had to awkwardly shimmy through the window with the Tupperware in one hand, almost stepping on a cable stretching across the floor. “Fuck—“
the hinges creaking offensively as he pushed down your open window and he cursed, shutting it as delicately as possible. When he heard your voice ring out from behind him he tensed.
“Uh, Hey Miguel!” You call from the bathroom. He breathed out the puff of air he was holding in. No turning back now.
“…Hey,” he called, not knowing where to begin. “…I brought you a little something.”
He makes his way to where he heard your voice coming from, and pauses briefly by your kitchen counter. He looks down at the soup in his hands.
…He could just leave it here, that would be less humiliating for everyone, wouldn’t it? He knew you were ok, now. He heard your voice, so you were alive. He did what he came here to do. He could turn around right now and escape while you were still in the bathroom.
But something stops him. A little smell wafted by his nose briefly. It was brief. It was faint. But it was there and it made him pause.
So he sits the soup on the counter quietly, but he doesn’t turn around. He walks further down the hall and takes a deep breathe. The smell is clearer now. Miguel gets a bad feeling.
He picks up the pace and pulls off his mask to get a better whiff, and suddenly he’s hit with the all too familiar stifling stench of blood.
No.
NO!
“Y/n!” He runs up to your bathroom door and starts rattling the handle, but the door is locked. He pauses when he hears your voice on the other side, clearer and more effective at preventing him from tearing the door off its hinges—.
“D-Don’t come in!” You yell. “I’m... ngh- I’m a bit busy in here!”
“Y/n, what do I smell?!” He doesn’t need you to tell him, He already knows the answer. It’s pungency rings clear from his side of the door. The tanginess was so prominent that even someone with normal senses could pick up on it.
“N-nothing!” You stutter. You always stutter when you’re nervous. And when you're lying.
“Are you bleeding? Where’s it coming from? Open up!” He starts banging on the door again, his fist unintentionally rattling the frame.
“You don’t smell anything- stop that!” You snapped, annoyance ringing clear. But there was a certain strain to your voice, a painful whine that made his heart drop. “I-I’m just, uh- changing! will you give me a minute? Please, Miguel.”
“Don’t lie to me! What’s wrong, can you not get to the door?” He starts backing up to gauge the frame of the door and… Yeah, he could kick that in, easily.
sensing what he was getting ready to do, you spring up from your spot hunched over on the side of the bath tub and amble to the bathroom door. “No no no!” You lean against the door, heaving. “Don’t do anything drastic, I’m right here!”
He paused and waited for you to open it, but your hesitation makes him start losing his patience. “Y/n-“
“I’m ok, Miguel. S-seriously. I just took a little tumble on the way home.” You swallow back a painful grunt as you lean on the door frame for more support. “Look…” you started. “Now’s really not a good time—“
“Y/n.”
You shut your mouth. ‘Oh, shit.’
the tone of his voice hid a warning. Miguel knew what you were going to suggest even before you said it, and he refused to let you finish. The fact that you were bleeding as much as you were for him to smell you across the house, And you were trying to hide it from him? It must be bad, there was no doubt about that. His brain began racing for answers, for explanations, for names. He didn’t know where you were hurt, god what if it was somewhere vital? Who did this to you and where? Why were you trying to hide it? Did they threaten you? Something must of happened. there was no way he would leave you here, No. There was no getting rid of him now.
“Open this door.” He says one final time. And you can tell it’s the final time from the tone of his words. His voice quaked with fury at even the mere insinuation that he’d ever leave you when you were wounded. That you were even wounded In the first place.
“Now.”
...
There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything. And for a second he thinks he’s going to have to break the door open inwards just to avoid plowing over you to get it open. But then he hears you apprehensively turn the lock and he almost breaks the handle from how fast he rips it open.
You stumble a bit, reeling at his strength. and then youre taking a tumble from being thrown off balance, but before you can even yelp out a cry he swoops in to catch you in his arms before your body can even comes close to hitting the floor. “Lo si—! Sorry! Y/N, I’m so sorry.”
from being so close he could tell immedietely that you were running warm, did you really have a fever too? He perches you on to the toilet seat and you wince at the ache washing through your body. God, your back was killing you... and Miguel's hands were all over you. you tried pulling your arms out of his grip, but he wasn't budging. he scoured your front for bruises, cuts, anything.
"what happened, where does it hurt, Y/N, please." he lifted your arms, checking your sides. nothing there... You couldn't bring yourself to answer, all the jostling around was making you go really dizzy... so much so that his words seemed to bounce off your ears. you squint at him. were there two of him before?
"Oi, mami/papi. focus for me. tell me where your hurt." he pats your cheek, snapping you a little out of your stupor. you blinked. his faced was pulled taught with worry, lines creased his skin in places that looked almost painful. and his eyes...
"Miguel... hhhave... your eyessschanged?" you weren't sure if it was the delirium from the pain finally setting in, or if your bathroom light just highlighted the underlying hues, but his tired brown eyes had shifted to a shade of... dare you say red.
they flicked back to your face, they had this wild look in them, like he was angry. but his voice wobbled like he was scared. "tell me where the pain is."
"... M' back.." you mumbled. he tugs on your shoulder to twist you around, making you whine. he apologizes quietly, before turning back to the red stains that were crawling up the back of your shirt.
you both descended into a tense silence. Miguel looked cramped, hovering over you in your tiny bathroom. he had to draw in his arms to not knock into your shower. not the most ideal place to play nurse... but he would manage. Miguel unshealthes his talons and cuts open the fabric like its warm butter. all you feel is a cold draft hit your back, and you shudder.
when he gets a good look at the state of your back his heart drops, what he finds isn't what he was expecting. your lower back is marred with an explosion like mass of burned skin. the center of the wound is deeper and more bloody then the rest, like something fast, blunt and burning hot struck you there.
God.
"Y/N, what the hell happened?" he glances at your bathroom bin and spots your old, scorched shirt lying inside. so you really were changing... that explained why the shirt you were wearing didn't have a massive gaping hole in it.
"Lyla. whats the aetiology for this." she flickers into view next to him, screening your back, and she winces.
"the lascerations have been caused by 1st and 2nd degree burns, the wound has become infected and needs to be treated immediately. the depth of the wound is telling me that the collision was hard and fast, likely a projectile."
"they were shot?."
"most likely. not by any normal weapon though, obviously." she confirmed, "it... doesn't look like the infection has interfered with the spinal collum." she optimistically added.
"will it scar?" he tilted his head towards her, but didn't take his eyes off the wound.
the Ai assistant didn't respond, calculating the most nerve settling response to his question. her silence told him everything he needed to know. "yeah, don't answer that." a snarl was building in his throat, fighting its way to the top.
he spots the first aid bag and its contents sprawled across your counter. most of it was over the counter painkillers, light ointments and bandaids. nothing in there that would help you.
"ok." he drags his hand down his face looking around the room. "Hijo de puta-!" his fist banged against the wall in a burst of anger, the pathetic thin walls rattled underneath the force. "Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?!"
you were stuck in this apartment by yourself, barely able to move or, jesus, even think. the fact that he could have never come… No, that he had come but couldve left here without knowing you were going through this on your own... the thought made him sick. why did you let it get this bad? what had happened?
you don't answer his question, your breathing has started to grow heavier, fevered. the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck had grown thicker as well. miguel reaches out to hold you steady. his mind racing. you can't stay here.
he knows he has to make a call. literally. he lifts his watch to his face.
"Jess, get someone on the medical team to prepare for my arrival." he picks you up carefully and fights to keep his voice from rising, he wasn't thinking clearly. all he could think about was getting you somewhere safe.
it wasn't common for miguel to ask for medical assistance, even at times when he probably should. he didn't like calling for help, he prefered to do things on his own, even to his own detriment. the idea that something could shake miguel up like this, making him ask for assistance, was new. Jessica could hear the tension in his throat as clear as day.
"whats your condition." she responded, concern shining through in her voice.
"no, no. i'm fine." he answered. "i've got an injured with me, they've been shot and need first aid immedietely. its a second degree burn that been left for over 24 hours, its infected."
"...done." she answers. "are they a new recruit?"
"they're a friend."
Pozole: a traditional soup or stew that is made from hominy with meat, you can put in things like shredded lettuce/cabbage, chilli peppers, onions, garlic, radishes, avocado, salsa or limes. (this sounds scrummy ngl i'm so hungry bro)
"Lo siento": i'm sorry (this is when he goes "Lo si-" but cuts himself off)
"Oi, mami": hey, Mama (i learned that mami or mamita can be used in a lot of different ways. native spanish speakers can use it to adress parentel figures, friends that give motherly energy, or it can even be used as a funny nickname for kids. i've seen a lot of people use it sexually in fics, but apparently thats not always the case!)
aetiology: kind of like a diagnosis, but different. its the cause of a desease or condition. idk if it's applicable to wounds, though.
"Hijo de puta-!": son of a bitch-!
I put these here so if anyone has any corrections i could make to the terms I’ve used to be more accurate then I can change them accordingly. I used online translators and articles… if anyone has any good websites for translating languages let me know! i'd be really interested.
#love is stored in the pozole#across the spiderverse#spider man#spiderverse x reader#into the spiderverse#miguel ohara#spiderman 99#spiderman99#into the spider verse#hurt/comfort#gender nuetral reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel x reader#angst#fluff#fanfic
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
me while playing fo4 because i’m an opinionated bitch and i disagree with bethesda’s character design
anyway. presenting,
a detailed look at every companion’s appearance, according to me.
(these are all headcanons. they might not be yours, but they are mine. i wrote this as a fic-writing reference, but i don't mind sharing so long as we're all nice about it. also, spoilers ahead for companion quests, both in vanilla game and dlcs. you've been warned okay love you have fun. sorry in advance that you can clearly tell who my favorite character is.)
cw: heights represented by the united states customary system. sorry metric users :/
Ada. Modified RobCo Assaultron. 2074 model. SN has been sanded off and replaced with "ADA", painted carefully (lovingly) in blue script. It's clear that it has been reapplied multiple times, as many times as necessary. Post-Mechanist quest, she requests to have the names of her fallen friends painted on her body as well.
Cait. Pre-addiction recovery, scrawny-strong. Blood, muscle, bone and not much else. Very short. Like, south-side of 5'3". Has a very rectangular body shape. Hard angles. Was bright strawberry blonde when she was a kid, but it got darker as she got older. Hazel eyes. Freckles year-round and all over. She doesn't burn super easily, but she doesn't really tan either. Just freckles. Nose is crooked from being broken too many times. Post-addiction recovery she is a beef. cake. With Sole's help and resources she gains plenty of weight post recovery. Other than the normal weight gain that comes after recovering from addiction, she finds she enjoys exercise—especially weight lifting—and that it helps her manage her cravings. Her biceps are unfair. If I can be honest, I really only shared this so I can start proselytizing for my Fat Cait Agenda.
Codsworth. Standard GAI Mister Handy. 2076 Model. SN: 01HND-7619-0163. This is only visible because the 2076 Handys had their SN's embossed. All other markings that were printed or painted on have eroded away. A cute fact about Codsworth is that, despite his 200 years of wear and tear, he doesn't have a single dent on his exterior panels. Not. A. Dent. Scratches, yes. Scuffs, sure. No dents. He takes his structural integrity very seriously, thank you. He will brag about this if you let him.
Curie. Pre-companion quest, Modified GAI Miss Nanny. 2072 Model. SN has been scratched off and replaced with what is probably "CURIE", but the combination of chicken scratch writing and 200 year old marker makes it illegible. Post-personal quest, Generic Female Synth Body. Average body weight, brown hair, brown eyes. (I know she technically has "Hazel Blue" eyes but I disagree. It's my post and I get to make the rules here.) Her only deviation from "average" is her height. Generic Synth Height is 5'10", for both male and female synths. Takes time to look neat—neatly trimmed nails, trimmed hair, etc—and enjoys it.
Danse. M7-97 was a vanity design* so Danse looks a little different from the Generic Synth design. Still has the brown hair, brown eyes, but is a touch shorter than the standard. 5'8". Latino or Hispanic. His hair is insanely thick, but his beard always grows in a little patchy and with the odd blond patch just below his right ear. (This was not an intentional part of his “design.” Genetics, even synthesized genetics, get funky sometimes.) Carries weight like a strongman weightlifter. Thicker than average, even for the Brotherhood, so he's always had to have his flight suits and PA specially altered. (Thicker than average in regards to BODY TYPE you sickos– This is not that kind of post lmao.)
(This post from slocumjoe is a huge influence for my headcanon for Danse! Thank you for going through your archive to find it!)
Deacon. The Average Guy Ever™. Average height, average build. I'm firmly in the "Deacon is a Good Spy, actually" camp, so. Uncanny ability to adjust how he looks just by altering his posture. His weight has always easily fluctuated, so he can go from stick thin to bulked up in a matter of weeks. No matter how many surgeries he gets, he cannot hide the freckles. They always come back. He would have had piano hands if he hadn't been a chronic brawler in his youth. Knuckles are very crooked now. Eyes so blue they're nearly grey. Ginger. Has long eyelashes that are frankly illegal for someone who covers his eyes all the time.
Dogmeat. Dog. He has six toes on his back left foot.
Gage. 5'11". In an alternate universe, would tell people he was 5'9" just to fuck with them. Was a towheaded kid whose hair darkened significantly as he grew up. If he spends a lot of time out in the sun, though, it will turn a sandy blonde/light brown. He keeps his hair short because otherwise it gets very curly and floppy and it really kills his "bad-guy raider" vibe. Would be one of those white boys who tans super well but also thinks wearing sunscreen is for the weak. Scarred to shit. Holds onto muscle for a really long time. Underbite. Slutty little waist because I think that's funny.
Hancock. John Prime was already pretty wiry to begin with, and becoming a ghoul has only emphasized this. 5'7" but seems shorter because he's always leaning on something. Draping, even. He's like if a man was also a liquid, somehow. His remaining hair is incredibly thin, but is the most vibrant golden blonde anyone has ever seen. Eyes are dark due to discoloration, but sometimes—if he's taken in a ton of rads—the edges of his irises will glow subtly. Several piercings on his ears, but he used to have more. Lost them on account of his nose falling off. (You know how it is.) Replaced them with an astonishing collection of rings. Cheekbones that could slice a brahmin. Missing his fourth toe on his right foot.
MacCready. Definition of scrunkly. Not a lick of fat anywhere to be found. 5'5". Has a Gunner tattoo on the left side of his forehead and he hates it. It's why he wears his hat so low. Had an ear pierced once, but it got ripped out ages ago. His left earlobe is split now. He very clearly needed braces growing up but obviously didn't have access to that. Bottom teeth are crooked. His cuticles are picked to shit. Sandy brown hair. Cuts his own hair, but only cares about the hair around his face. Line of sight. Sniper. You get it. Is generally too lazy/uninterested in the rest, and will neglect it until it gets too long, so. Mullet (hot).
Nick. See, the problem with my synth grandpa is that this is the only character whose design Bethesda completely and utterly nailed. Like yeah, he does look like that. You got it. You did it. Perfect, no notes. Like all other Generic Synths, he's 5'10".
Old Longfellow. Exactly what you would expect an Old Hermit-Mariner Driven To Eldritch Madness By The Fog and The Sea would look like. The wildest eyebrows anybody has ever seen. Like you could take a comb through those bad boys. His hair is past his shoulders and fades into his beard. Stark white hair due to the stress of living alone on an island and from What He's Seen. You cannot convince me that there are not some Lovecraftian nasties living in the sea. They Know Longfellow, but Longfellow Knows Them. 6' until he stands up straight and then he's like. 6'5". Liver spots across his face and hands. Looks like he has cataracts in both eyes, but somehow can see better than you.
Piper. By far the companion whose Bethesda!verse appearance I disregard the most. In my heart she is a South Asian woman. On the taller side, between 5'8" and 5'9". Super thick, dark brown hair that in fact does just Look Like That (unfair). Her hair grows from fairly far down on her neck. Deep brown eyes. Spends lots of time on her makeup, even when she's out in the 'wealth chasing leads. Prefers red lips and dark liner close to her lid-lines. Her cupid's bow is super pronounced and she does her makeup to highlight it. On the softer side in regards to physique. Has a burn scar on her right forearm from a cooking mishap back when she was still trying to figure out how to live on her own and take care of Nat at the same time. Bites her nails.
Preston. Personification of someone telling you that everything is going to be all right. Tall, 6'. Pretty standard physique for someone who grew up on a farm and then became a soldier in a wasteland militia. Very square hands. Lets his hair grow out a little bit because he (forgets about it) likes it. Brown eyes that look like honey when the sun hits them. Other than the two scars on his face—one running down his left cheek, the other a small nick on his top lip—he has a scar from a bullet wound on his right shoulder. Has a stick and poke tattoo of the Minuteman coat of arms on his left arm, just where his shoulder meets his bicep. Top lip is bigger than his bottom lip. Dimples when he smiles. Huge smile, smiles with his whole mouth. Legs like an adonis. Someone get this man into some 4' inseam shorts, STAT.
Strong. Super mutant. He was a Butcher, so he's a little beefier than your average mutant. Of course, this is only known to other mutants, as the subtleties of mutant physiology tend to be lost on non-mutated humans.
X6-88. Generic Courser Build. While Generic Synths are designed to blend in with the everyman, Generic Coursers are designed to inspire fear in every man. (booo bad joke tomato tomato) 6'3" but stands so perfectly straight that he seems taller. Has the superhero build, but like naturally. Keeps his hair in a short fade. Bottom lip is lighter than the top lip. Has little lines around his mouth from all his frowning. Has one (1) singular scar on his chin. He won't tell you where he got it (it's from him eating it on concrete steps. That was the one mission he asked for an extension on, so the evidence of him beefing it would heal.) Also chronically wears sunglasses. Behind those aviators are grey eyes that are so pale and sharp, they almost look white.
#chuck's objectively right opinions about fallout 4 companions#fallout 4#fallout 4 companions#fo4#fo4 companions#fo4 ada#fo4 cait#codsworth fo4#curie fo4#paladin danse#deacon fo4#dogmeat#porter gage#hancock fo4#fo4 maccready#nick valentine#old longfellow#piper wright#preston garvey#strong fo4#x6 88
382 notes
·
View notes
Text
⇝ SICK DAY SCENARIOS !
CC!DreamWasTaken, CC!Sapnap, CC!GeorgeNotFound, CC!Quackity, CC!Karl Jacobs x GN!Reader.
SUMMARY: taking care of CCs when they're sick :( <3.
WARNINGS: SFW, a few spicy moments here and there, illness, a tiny drop of angst in Karl's part!
A/N: I'm alive!! The brainrot is real for these guys so I just had to write something, even if it's a bit crap LMAO. It's my first time writing for Karl/Quack, so they might be a bit weird/stiff, apologies! Once again, requests are open!! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the post, it helps a lot!! Thank you for reading! <333 If you see any mistakes, do not hesitate to let me know, please!!! I wrote this quite late so there might be a few!
MASTERLIST.
DREAM:
"Feeling a bit better?"
You whisper softly as you open the door to your boyfriend's bedroom, noticing that he had made his way off his bed and onto his chair, legs up and pressed to his chest with his knees tucked under his chin, the bright screens of his monitors reflecting onto his sad face.
"Mm…"
His broken whimper makes you sigh, walking over to him carefully and placing the bowl of chicken soup next to his keyboard, leaning down to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead.
"You should be resting."
You're about to lean back until Dream grabs your arm, his pointer finger coming up to tap his lips, hopeful eyes staring up at you.
"Clay. You're ill."
"Which means you're refusing to kiss your poor, suffering boyfriend?" He sighs dramatically, his voice deep yet nasally due to his stuffy nose, leaning into your touch as your hand comes up to cup his cheek.
"Are you ready to take care of me when I inevitably get sick, sweetheart?" You coo back, watching his expression morph from one of self-pity to one of dread.
"O-of course." He mumbles, hoping you don't remember how stressed he was when George had gotten sick a few weeks ago, running around the house looking for medicine in hopes that his friend wouldn't die. "Still… What if the cure to my sickness is a kiss from my beautiful partner?"
"Oh?" You play along with a smile, your hand coming up to play with his hair and run your fingers through his dirty blond curls, watching him flutter his eyes closed to enjoy your touch with a smile, half expecting him to start purring. "Well…" You sigh dramatically in defeat, leaning down so that the tips of both your noses are bumping. "I guess if it helps."
Dream makes a soft noise of excitement before you press your lips to his, his soft hand holding your head to his to slot your lips together easily.
"Now get to bed." You snap as soon as you pull back, causing him to huff and pause whatever video he had been watching.
"Fine." He grumbles like a child, lifting himself up and taking a few moments to make sure he isn't about to collapse before turning to you, letting you lead him to his mattress, onto which he immediately collapses on with a loud groan.
He situates himself under the covers and outstretches his arms to you expectantly, yet instead of your warm body he finds himself holding the bowl of soup you had brought.
You press a kiss to his forehead as he begrudgingly starts to sip on the soup, his gaze softening as he realises you're not about to leave his side.
Needless to say, the next day you were as ill as he was.
SAPNAP:
A loud groan resounds across the house.
You try your best to ignore it, going back to scrolling through your phone and scratching behind Patches' ears.
Another groan, louder this time, finally brings your attention away from social media and back to reality, frowning at the unending dramatic groans that come from your boyfriend.
You sigh, carefully pushing Patches off and starting your trek upstairs, listening to the borderline fake sounds coming from inside the room.
"You sound like you're dying."
You comment as soon as you push open the door to his bedroom, rolling your eyes with a smile as you meet your boyfriend's gaze, his lower lip curled into a pout as he makes grabby hands at you, his bed covered in what you assume to be snotty tissues.
"I am dying, darlin'. Feels like I'm being ripped apart."
You laugh, making your way towards him and sitting on the edge of the bed, and placing your hand onto his forehead, frowning instantly at how hot he feels.
"Wait, are you actually sick?"
"Yes!" Sapnap whines, throwing his head back and slamming it accidentally onto the wooden headboard, whining at the additional pain. "You thought I was fakin'!?"
"I wouldn't put it past you." You grumbled, wiping some of the sweat on his face with your sleeve, watching him try to adjust in his bed just to be closer with you. "What hurts?"
"Everything." He sighs out, closing his eyes in pain as his head throbs.
"Everything?" You repeat, unamused, already getting up to retrieve an ice pack from downstairs, hoping to cool down the fever he seems to have caught.
"Yes, every-" his eyes snap open as soon as he feels the bed shift, whining. "No, don't leave!"
"Nick, I need to get you something for your fever!"
You struggle against Sapnap's grip as he pulls you into his lap, arms wrapped around your waist and stubble scratching against your cheek.
"No… all I need is you, darl'." He grumbles against your skin, peppering sloppy kisses onto your neck.
"You're delirious." You sigh, melting into his warmth as he pulls you under the covers, sniffling and whining with every move he makes. "You'll take some medicine later, right?"
"Mhm … yeah." He says drowsily as he starts to fall asleep right there, listening to your breathing as a means to calm himself down. "Anything for you, sweetheart."
GEORGE:
How can George still be asleep?
You think to yourself as you stare mindlessly into the TV, the plate of food you had been eating abandoned on the coffee table as you take note of how long it had been since you had seen your boyfriend after last night.
You know he's prone to sleeping in for long, but not this long. Especially now in Florida, where the sun rises earlier and helps him wake up at the same time as you and your roommates.
Once you give your half eaten plate to Dream, you carefully push open the door to your boyfriend's room, stopping for a few moments so your eyes get used to the darkness his room was covered in.
"George? Are you awake?"
Treading carefully so you don't trip on any loose cables or stuff that he might have tossed onto the ground, you finally reach his bed, kneeling next to him and placing your hands on the body beneath the covers and shaking softly.
"Georgie?"
"Hmng."
You feel him turn around, meeting his gaze despite the darkness around you, watching as his pained expression turns into one of relief.
"Hi…" He mumbles, voice coarse as if he had just finished screaming for over an hour, reminding you of that one time he had lost his voice after a particularly long stream. "Time…?"
"Almost 4." Your hand comes up to push back his bangs, a shiver racking through his body as your cool touch makes contact with his atypically hot skin. "What th- do you have a fever?"
"I think." You feel his arms creep around your waist, pulling you closer with abnormal strength and placing his head onto your lap, snuggling himself into your thighs, letting out a shaky sigh at the warmth. "Tried getting up this morning and I think I passed out."
That would explain the crash Sapnap had claimed to have heard early in the morning.
"You passed out? Why didn't you call me?" You whisper back, running your fingers through his hair and massaging the back of his neck, a spot you know always gets him weak. "We could've brought you downstairs so you weren't cooped up like this."
George laughed as the image of Dream and Sapnap dragging him downstairs came to mind, but the sudden stabbing pain that attacked his lungs caused him to start coughing with a whine.
"I'd rather just stay up here with you." He started to manhandle you to lie under the covers, his hands warm on your hips as he quite basically shoved his face into your chest, trying to calm his raging headache. "We can order something later… I just want to be with you for now."
You chewed on your lower lip before your hands came up subconsciously to bury themselves in his soft locks, a whine leaving his lips as your nails started scratching at his scalp. "Fine. Just for a bit, okay? You still have to eat, we got to get you medicine, and you probably stin-"
You squeaked as he nipped on your skin in an attempt to get you to shut up, rolling your eyes at the smirk on his pretty lips before he fluttered his eyes back closed, a silent way of telling you that he was going back to sleep.
QUACKITY:
"You're an idiot."
Your boyfriend sputters out a confused sound as he walks into the kitchen, not having expected to be instantly insulted first thing in the morning.
"Huh?"
"Why are you half-naked!? You're sick!" You point at his feet and then his shorts with your spoon, making him groan and roll his eyes.
"It's hot!" He throws his arms up in the air as he sits down at the kitchen island, ignoring the way you frown at him. "And I'm not sick. I'm fine. It's just a cold."
"That still counts as being sick." You mumble under your breath, pushing a plate of food in his direction before pulling off your hoodie (which casually happened to be his) and handing it to him. "Put it on. I don't want you getting worse."
"...fine." He mumbles, starting to eat once it's on. "Thank you, mi vida."
Your face heats up at the casual nickname, nodding as you start on your own breakfast, too busy scrolling on your phone to notice the way your boyfriend starts squirming in his seat, sweat dripping down his forehead as he tries to focus on his food.
"You alright?" You finally realise how sick he looks despite having looked fine mere moments before, face flushed and skin sickly pale as he wipes the sweat away with his hoodies sleeves.
"Mhm. Okay." Your hand reaches over to cup his cheek, almost flinching back at how hot his skin feels. "Jesus! You're so fucking hot!"
You instantly regret what comes out of your mouth at his cocky expression, watching him m lean into your hand and sigh dreamily, eyelashes fluttering open and closed as he speaks.
"You think I'm that hot, babe?" He purrs out, despite the absolute pain that's racking through his body at the minute. "Damn, didn't expect you to be bold."
"Shut up." You pinch his cheek, forcing a high pitched cry to leave his mouth as you turn around to look through the medicine cabinet. "I meant you're literally hot, Alex."
"So you think I'm not figuratively hot?" You refrain from the urge to groan at his teasing, pulling off the cap to some medicine and dropping a pill into a glass of water.
"If you keep acting like this, you'll be less than hot to me." You snap, handing him the drink and waiting for him to down it like he usually does when it comes to ill-tasting medicine. "Go lie down, I'll make you some soup."
Before you can leave, he grabs your arm, pulling you into the space between his open legs and wrapping his arms around your waist.
"With me?" He mumbles into your hair, causing you to roll your eyes at how clingy he's become. "Come on, cielo. We can just order soup."
"But will it be as good as my soup?" You brush some of his longer strands of hair away from his eyes and trace the invisible lines between the beauty marks on his face.
"No… but I'd take cold soup any day of the week if it means having you in my arms."
KARL:
"Your nose is running."
You comment as you watch your boyfriend sluggishly make his way towards the fridge, eyes barely open and sweatpants almost falling down his waist.
"Mhm."
He doesn't even acknowledge your words, digging through the countless cans in the fridge to pull out some orange juice, instantly downing it without a second thought.
"Sorry. You want some?" He slurs, extending his arm and offering you the carton.
"Just finish it, Karl. I'd rather not get sick."
You notice that instead of his normal sleeping shirt he has a button up on, the buttons all messed up from probably trying to do it on his own in the bathroom mirror.
"You going somewhere, baby?" You comment on his appearance, frowning as he instantly nods, throwing the carton into the bin before looking for some snacks.
"Filming with Jimmy." He casually says, as if he hadn't been battling with a fever for almost a week. "I volunteered yesterd-"
You slap your hand over his mouth, stopping him from talking and meeting his shocked gaze, feeling his hands immediately find place on your waist out of instinct at how close you are.
"You're not going anywhere, Karl. I don't want you to get worse." You comment with a frown, having half expected him to lick at your hand when you had covered his mouth, but the sad look in his eyes feels worse than how that would've. "Please. You've been in pain for almost a week, I just want you to get better."
You let go of his face, moving your hand to cup his cheek and watch him press into your touch, nodding solemnly.
"Just don't like being useless. I wanna do stuff, I want to help!" He whines, closing his eyes as if afraid of your reaction to his complaint.
"You're not useless, though. You're sick. I'm taking care of you because I love you and I want you to get better. Jimmy's your friend, he'll probably won't want you working while you're sick, either." You lean up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a comforting hug, his cool hands roaming your skin under your shirt. "So get back into your pyjamas and get to bed and I'll bring you some food, okay? Then we can watch a movie, whichever one you want."
He nods enthusiastically, taking his turn to cup your cheeks in his hands and pepper kisses all over, brushing your lips with his before pulling away, aware of how sick you'd get if he gave you what he had. "I love you!" He says before rushing back upstairs giddily, not even waiting for you to say it back, aware that even without saying it, you do.
#dream smp x reader#mcyt#dream smp#dream smp imagine#dreamwastaken x reader#sapnap x reader#georgenotfound x reader#quackity x reader#karl jacobs x reader#dream x reader#dreamwastaken#sapnap#quackity#georgenotfound#dsmp headcanons#dream team#dream smp x y/n#dtqk#dreamwastaken imagine#sapnap imagine#georgenotfound imagine#quackity imagine#karl jacobs imagine#mcyt x reader#dsmp#dsmp x reader#RPF
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
The One With the Girl from Canada
while im cleaning out my drafts, here's something from a few months ago. i really like this and i've written and are currently writing some more little chapters, so be on the lookout for them!! this is also posted on my ao3 if you want to go read it there too :) chandler bing x female!reader summary: new york city is a big place for a girl who lived in canada her entire life, but you manage. one afternoon, while getting some work done in a cozy coffee shop, a very handsome brunette asks to sit beside you. who are you to tell him no? word count: ~2.3k warnings: none i don't think lmao that never happens next>
Central Perk is a special spot for Chandler Bing. That's where he talks with his friends, it's where they all relax, it's where he met Rachel just a couple of months ago, coming in wearing a wedding dress and looking highly frazzled. It's got a nice, calming atmosphere, pretty good coffee, and the absolute best spot in all of Manhattan.
The area with the couch is where he and his friends always sit. Sometimes he feels bad for taking it, but nobody seems to mind, ever. And so he always sits there, usually on the couch when it is available.
When he walked into Central Perk one afternoon after work, he just wanted to grab a coffee and wait for the rest of his friends to show up eventually. He didn't expect there to be anyone there, no one ever was at this time on a Thursday.
But then he saw someone sitting in his spot.
Normally, he would have been upset, probably ask them to leave, nicely, of course, and pray to God that they left because he hates confrontation.
However, the person sitting in his spot was probably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. She looked like she had been there for a few hours, at least, because there was an empty plate with crumbs on it and a large mug drained, both sitting on the coffee table her feet were propped up on.
For a moment, Chandler stood at the counter and stared at her like some kind of creep. He had never seen her around and he knew he'd remember if he did. She wore gray jeans rolled up at the ankles to show off her colorful socks underneath a pair of black and white Converses. As his eyes traveled up her frame, he saw her wearing some kind of band tee and a tiny, silver necklace around her neck. She seemed to be writing something and, from what Chandler could tell, she seemed to be deep into thought. Her pencil scratched across the notebook and every so often, she would pause and read over it before promptly erasing something and writing once more.
He heard his name being said and turned around to see Guther holding out a coffee cup to him.
"Oh, thanks, Gunther," he told the worker, taking the coffee from him.
Chandler had never been good at talking to girls and more often than not chickened out on the opportunity to do so. But he didn't want to chicken out on talking to you.
And so, with confidence, he walked over to the area he always sat at and stood just beside the couch, next to your arm that was leaning on the armrest.
Before now, he didn't notice the headphones around your ears and the Walkman that sat beside you, but when he clears his throat and you don't react, he understands why. And so, again and a little bit louder, he clears his throat, gently tapping on your shoulder.
Your eyes tear away from the page in your lap at the touch of another person and you whip your head up to see a man standing beside you, looking at you with a smile. Perhaps too loudly, you exclaim, "Oh, shit, sorry!" and hastily pause your music and let the headphones rest around your neck. You blink up at the man and ask, "Yes?"
"I, uh." Chandler swallows thickly because even your voice is one from a dream. "You're, uh, kind of in my spot."
With a mischievous smile, you turn around in your seat like you're looking for something. "Oh, word? I don't see your name on it."
And then you smile at him snarkily and Chandler forgets how to breathe. But then he laughs, a bit awkwardly. Your sarcastic grin fades into a true one and you add, "Don't worry, I'll move."
When you start to gather your things, Chandler is quick to put a stop to it. He doesn't want you to move, not now, not ever. Not when he's just started to talk to you. "No, no, you're fine, I'm just kidding."
You stop your movements and look up at him. "Oh, alright. You can sit next to me, though."
Chandler doesn't have to be told twice. He sits beside you on the opposite side of the couch and takes a drink of his coffee like that will do anything to cure his jitters.
"What's your name?" you ask him, setting your notebook in your lap for just a moment. You wonder if he wants to have a conversation, but not many people in New York do.
He answers, "Chandler."
"Nice to meet you, Chandler. I'm y/n."
God, even your name sounds like something from a song.
"It's nice to meet you, too, y/n." He takes notice of the notebook in your lap and feels the urge to ask, "Mind if I ask what you're writing?"
With another grin, you say, "What if I did?"
Chandler can only wonder if your smile is contagious because he feels his lips curl upwards. "I mean, I'd still ask. I'm nosey."
You laugh and tilt your notebook for him to read. "It's a screenplay I'm writing."
Chandler's eyes widen. "You're a screenwriter? What, you make movies and stuff?"
"I wish." You scoff and feel a slight heat rise to your cheeks. "No, I write stories for movies and stuff. At least, I try."
"Is it not going so well?"
You shrug. "I don't know. Some studio called me up a few months ago, said they liked the idea I submitted and gave me a few months to come up with a first draft. And I've got two more weeks to finish it, so we'll see."
"I'm sure it's great," Chandler says and he means it. He can't write for shit, but something about you seems so...creative and special. "Even if I just met you."
You laugh again and close the notebook, stashing it away in the tote bag that rests on the floor. "Thanks, really."
"Of course." When you turn your body to face him, he sees what band is on your shirt and, even though he knows who it is, he asks, "What band is that?"
When he points to your chest, you look down and answer, "Oh, Nirvana."
"Oh, my God, I love them!"
"Really?" Your face breaks into a grin and you lean forwards a little. "What's your favorite song."
"'Heart-Shaped Box'," he says.
"Oh, that's good. I like 'Come As You Are'."
Soon, the conversation seems to flow quite naturally between the pair of you. He tells you about his boring job, something with a bunch of numbers and nothing exciting. You both compare bands and he realizes you're much more into rock and alternative works, but he guessed that the second he saw the leather jacket that rests beside you.
Joey is the first to arrive. Chandler glances up at the door when he hears the bell above it jingle and sees his roommate falter at the sight of you. You're not looking, rummaging through your tote bag for something and Chandler's eyes widen at the sight of the other person. If Joey flirts with you, Chandler will kill him.
Joey, clearly not catching on to Chandler's look from across the cafe, sees you and smirks, walking over.
"Hey, Chandler," he greets but doesn't look at his friend, eyes settling on you. "Who's, uh, your friend?"
You turn up at the sound of another person and spot the Italian-American smiling at you. You smile back and say, "I'm y/n."
"How you doin'?" Joey smirks and sits himself down on the high stool beside you. "I'm Joey."
"Hi, Joey," you reply, glancing at Chandler who quickly wipes the glare from his face and smiles at you. "You guys know each other?"
"We're roommates," he answers, motioning at his friend who is still staring at you.
You blink and shift in your seat. "Oh."
"I like your shirt," Joey says.
"You like Nirvana, too?" Your face brightens and Chandler almost melts.
But then his roommate says, "Who?"
And that look on your face is gone. Your smile falls and you look away back into your tote, mumbling, "Never mind."
Chandler meets his friend's eyes and shakes his head twice, brows furrowed. Joey always gets the girl. Chandler deserves to hope, at least.
You pull out a packet of gum and open it. You take a piece out and unwrap it before offering one to Chandler. He smiles and takes it, popping it in his mouth and shoving the wrapper in his pocket.
"Want some gum?" you ask the other man with darker and messier hair.
He takes one and thanks you. You return it with a grin and put the gum back in your tote, on top of your notebook.
Joey says your name and you look at him. "So, you live around here?"
You nod. "Yeah, I live in Hell's Kitchen."
"Oh, cool, cool. How long have you lived here? You grew up in New York?"
Immediately, you shake your head. "Oh, no, no, I didn't grow up here."
"Where'd you grow up?" Chandler asks, tilting his head
"Winnipeg," you answer, biting back a smile.
Chandler's brows furrow and Joey asks, "Where's that?"
"Manitoba." Your straight cracks a bit and you try to fight the smile that wants to paint itself across your lips.
Joey looks lost and asks again, "...Where's that?"
"Canada," you tell him, fully grinning now.
Joey gasps and Chandler tries not to roll his eyes. He figured it out when you said Manitoba. He says, "You're from Canada?"
You nod, turning your head to look at him. "Yep."
"Do you speak French?" Joey asks, touching your arm, clearly already friendly with you.
Turning to him, you answer, "Non."
Chandler laughs and you giggle, crossing one leg over the other.
"I speak Italian," Joey says.
You raise a brow. "Yeah?"
He nods and leans forward in his chair, smirking. "Sei bellissima."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you're beautiful," he answers, voice a little lower than it was before.
Some heat rushes up your neck and you look away at your lap. "Oh."
Chandler glares at his friend, but Joey doesn't catch it.
Thankfully, before Chandler reaches over you to choke Joey, the bell dings and he glances at the door. Monica, Ross, Phoebe, and Rachel are walking in and while the rest of his friends make their way over, Rachel immediately goes to clock in for her shift.
They walk over and greet the other two and Phoebe is the first to address you. "Oh, wow, you're pretty."
You laugh out loud, blushing even harder at the compliment from a woman, touching your necklace. "Thank you. I like your skirt."
Phoebe giggles and swishes her skirt. "Thanks."
"This is y/n," Chandler introduces you to his friends.
"Hey." You lift your hand in a wave of sorts, feeling like you're butting in on their group. You should leave, but in a minute. You don't want to be rude.
Chandler's friends introduce themselves--Ross, Monica, and Phoebe, you repeat their names in your head to remember better--and then he gestures towards the coffee bar. "And the girl over there is Rachel."
"It's nice to meet you guys," you say politely, squeezing your hands in your lap.
"You too." Monica smiles. "I love your shirt, by the way."
"Thanks." You grin, basking in all the compliments.
Ross looks at Monica and asks, "You listen to Nirvana?"
Monica fixes him with a look. "Yes, because I'm cooler than you."
You chuckle at their interaction when Joey suddenly blurts out, "Ask her where she's from!"
You giggle at the man's antics and look at the others.
Ross smiles and asks, "Alright. Where are you from?"
"Winnipeg," you reply, still smiling. Chandler thinks he's going to swoon.
Monica is the first to figure it out. "You live in Canada?"
You nod. "I mean, I used to. I moved to Hell's Kitchen a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh, my god, so you just moved here," Chandler says.
"Why did you move all the way from Canada down to here?" Ross wonders.
"I'm a screenwriter and ended up getting a job down here," you answer. "Besides, Canada is boring, so I was looking for a change of scenery."
"Well, how do you like it here so far?" Phoebe asks.
You shrug. "It's pretty nice. A little colder, somehow, but I like it. There are a lot more people and a lot more things to do and see. I lived in Winnipeg my entire life so I kind of felt like I saw everything."
"I've always wanted to go to Canada," Rachel says, coming to hand out coffee.
You smile. "It's nice. Alberta is really pretty."
Mustering up some courage, Chandler says, "Hey, if you ever need someone to show you around the city, I'll be happy to help you."
And then you look at him and grin, nodding. "That'd be sick."
He feels heat start to creep up his cheeks, and he smiles back. "Awesome."
You look at the time on the clock and say, "I've got to head out, but it was great to meet you guys."
"Yeah, you too!" Monica says.
Taking a Post-it note from your bag, you write down your number and hand it to Chandler. He takes it and tries not to stare at it too hard. "Hope to catch you guys later."
Chandler's friends wave to you and you walk out the door, shrugging your jacket on before walking off. Chandler stares at the window for several seconds after you're gone and only snaps out of it when Monica says something.
"Chandler, how the hell did you get her number?"
He shrugs, looks at the bright blue Post-it note, and reads it.
here :) (xxx-xxx-xxxx)
He smiles and puts it in his pocket, trying to ignore the looks his friends are giving him. You're very cool and very pretty and Chandler can't wait to see you again.
#x reader#chandler bing#chandler bing x reader#canadian reader#ross geller#rachel green#joey tribbiani#monica geller#phoebe buffay
421 notes
·
View notes
Note
ANYFING WITH FLUFFY MUEPHY MACMANUS PLES PLES PLES PLES LMAOOO
Mo Stór
ao3 link
Characters: Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader
A/N: loving the energy in this request, anon. if you had a tail, it would be wagging LMAO. i’m sorry this took AGES, but i hope you enjoy anyway! <3
Warnings: cussing, bad irish accent writing, fluff, domestic bliss, seriously it’s so fluffy
Word Count: 817
Dating Murphy MacManus isn’t the easiest thing in the world. In fact, if you were to ask his brother, he’d say something along the lines of “Dunno how ya put up with us being vigilantes and shit, lass.”
You and Murphy have had countless talks about him and his brother’s “hobby,” half of them ending in you begging to join him. He would never let you, it’s too dangerous.
So you work your job to support yourself and the boys. You don’t mind it really, they treat you like their queen. Usually, they’re home when you get off work. Walking in to a warm dinner, even if it was a frozen pizza, was a feeling you wish for every good person on earth.
Other nights, like tonight, the brothers wouldn’t be home. You couldn’t help the feeling of anxiety that went to that pit in your stomach. You rush to the note on the refrigerator, ripping it from the magnet that also held up a picture of you and Murphy kissing. Both the picture and the magnet fell off the fridge as you read the note.
“Went to grab Chinese takeaway for dinner. Be back soon x.”
You sighed in relief as you read Murphy’s chicken scratch handwriting. You remembered the magnet and picture that fell, and quickly retrieved them off of the floor. You smiled as you pinned the picture back to the fridge and silently thanked Connor for capturing that moment on camera.
It had been a long night at McGinty’s, and Doc had kept the rounds coming. You had somehow convinced Murphy to dance with you; it must have been the David Bowie song playing. At the end of the song, he dipped you down like you were in some kind of romance movie, and gave you one of many kisses that you two have shared in that bar. Once he heard the click of the camera, he gently dropped you to the floor and shoved his brother, trying to grab the camera. You laughed on the bar floor as he successfully got the camera and pocketed it. He must not have been too upset about the picture since he printed it out the next day.
You heard the door open while you were reminiscing, interrupted by the familiar sound of the twins bickering; this time about chopsticks.
Connor calls your name as he shuts the door. “Are ya gonna use chopsticks?”
You smile as Murphy rolls his eyes and sets the food down on the table. He makes his way over to you and kisses your cheek.
“Yeah, of course,” you answer Connor, “are you?”
He pulls two wrapped pairs of chopsticks out of his pocket and hands you one. “Of course! Murph here wouldn’t let me grab three because he doesn’t know how to use them.”
You look at Murphy who rolls his eyes again as he grabs your hips to slide past you and take a fork from the drawers. He grumbles out “I’m fuckin’ Irish, don’t need to know how, eejit.”
You giggle as you hug him from behind. “I’m pretty sure the Irish didn’t invent the fork either, Murphy.”
He tried to frown, but one side of his mouth lifted. “Are we gonna eat this shite or not?”
After dinner and the nightly movie, you and Murphy retired to your shared bedroom. You were glad that the movie finished because it was Connor’s night to pick, and he picked the worst possible movie on earth, as usual.
You had both changed into your sleep clothes, and brushed your teeth together, smiling at each other in the mirror.
This was your favorite part of the day. You and Murphy got to cuddle in bed and just look at each other. His hand was on your cheek and his thumb was smoothing out your skin.
“Mo stór.” Murphy interrupts the silence.
You smile at him. “What’s that?”
“My darling.”
You kiss his forehead. “Yeah, I am.”
He smiles and kisses your lips gently.
You rest your forehead on his. “For a second I thought you were asking me to marry you or something.”
Without hesitation, he answers, “I would.”
You bring your head up from the pillow and lift your eyebrows in surprise at him.
He notices the shock on your face and scrambles to say something else. “I mean I don’t have a ring for you or anything. But I would get one. I just know that God sent you to me. I may be a saint, but you’re an angel, lass.”
He grabs your hand and kisses the top of it.
“It seems like it would be a pretty divine marriage if you ask me.”
You feel a tear fall from your eye. “Oh my god.”
He smirks as he wipes the tear from your face and chides, “Lord’s name, love.”
You giggle and then nod.
“Let’s do it.”
#murphy macmanus#murphy macmanus x reader#murphy macmanus x fem!reader#norman reedus#the boondock saints#boondock saints#fluff#daryl dixon
74 notes
·
View notes
Note
can i request soft greaseball headcanons! like she’s whining after a race when dinah won’t cuddle her because she’s busy, or she’s buying dinah cute little presents but then she’s getting too embarrassed to give them to dinah so she’s just hoarding them all
a/n: OMG YESSS this is so cute
sfw! no warnings that I know of!
Greaseball being a Big Softie (for Dinah Only)
I’ve said this before, but Greaseball needs a lot of attention/affection from Dinah, especially in private
She’s not above whining and literally carrying Dinah to bed if it means she gets cuddles!
Sleeping without Dinah in her arms is practically impossible for her. She hugs her to her chest like a teddy bear and gets hella whiny when she tries to get up in the night.
Presents!!! Greaseball sees things that remind her of Dinah everywhere, and being the racing champion, she can afford to buy them!
However she gets sooo awkward about actually giving them to Dinah even though there’s never been a time she didn’t like a present
There’s a box under their bed that’s just full of cute little trinkets she’s bought or picked up because she thought Dinah would like them but then chickened out of giving her
Dinah is cleaning one day and finds the box, she literally tears up when Greaseball explains herself because that’s just so sweet
She’ll lay down with her head in Dinah’s lap so she can get head scratches (they’re 100% her weakness, she gets so sleepy)
Greaseball purposefully leaves her fresh out of the dryer clothes out so Dinah will steal them because it makes her so giddy to see Her girl in Her clothes (she’ll never admit it’s on purpose and she acts all grumpy about it, Dinah knows better though)
On that note, she always refers to Dinah as Her Girl, very “my wife” type shit (she becomes the lesbian equivalent of a wife guy in post canon yall can fight me on this)
If Dinah asks for anything she’s like incapable of telling her no if it’s within reason
She’s kind of like a teenage boy because she does dumbass shit to try and impress Dinah
Like “babe watch this!” *does a flip and falls*
Any time Dinah needs help with something she just kind of appears like she has a 6th sense about it (like Ken in Barbie Life in The Dreamhouse 🥲)
She gets so cuddly when she’s tired, after a race, all she wants is Dinah curled up in her lap and whatever movie they agreed on playing on the tv
If Dinah is busy when she wants to cuddle, Greaseball literally just walks around hugging her while she does whatever she’s doing (she’s touch starved okay)
This was so fun to write they’re so cute lmao.
Hope you liked!! As always requests are open 💕💕
#starlight express london 2024#starlight express#greaseball the diesel#dinah the dining car#greasedinah#dinah starlight express#greaseball and dinah#dinah x greaseball#rory rambles! 💕#stex
17 notes
·
View notes
Note
44 for Regina;
12 and 20 for Cady;
24 for Janis;
2,3, 19, 20 and 43 for Veronica for the character thingy
hello friend holy cow this is gonna take me a while tysm!!! <3
REGINA
44 - their happiest memory
she is six years old. it is her birthday. her mom took her shopping the day before and she got the most perfect pink birthday dress. she’s allowed to wear a little makeup since it’s her special day. her parents smile at her at the breakfast table and she gets to eat as many eggo waffles as she wants. her friends all come over in the afternoon and they have a special tea party in the backyard with pink lemonade and finger sandwiches and cookies that are a little gross but make them feel grown up and real china plates and teacups and flowers and everyone’s in their pretty dresses and regina gets a crown.
she opens her presents after they’ve had their meal and gets a pretty dollhouse from her parents. janis gets her the new barbie doll, her first one that isn’t a hand-me-down from her mother. gretchen gives her a paint your own teacup kit. karen gets her a dvd of their favorite barbie princess movie. she’s piled with other gifts from her other friends.
they play on the swings and slides and climb trees. she and janis hold hands on the swings and almost break their elbows. her cake is vanilla and has astronaut barbie printed on it with a pink trim. it is the most delicious thing she’s ever tasted.
janis and gretchen and karen sleep over and they stay up late playing with all regina’s new toys and watching her new movie. they fall asleep on the living room floor and get cake for breakfast the next day.
CADY
12 - crack headcanon
as a child she tried to bring a lion cub as her dinner guest by hiding it in her shirt. it took her parents 20 minutes to notice.
as an adult she uses the same strategy to trick her partner into getting a cat. it works.
20 - scars (related lmao)
one near her right eyebrow because she had a growth spurt, didn’t notice, and ran headfirst into a tree branch
her left ear is slightly deformed at the top bc of a particularly vicious lion cub play session
one right against her lip in the mid-left because she had a stubborn pimple and wouldn’t leave it alone
one on the bottom of her chin because her first time somewhere with them, she fell up the stairs. not down. up.
one on her upper stomach/lower chest where a mama lion got mad and scratched her. her first time needing stitches! but nothing life threatening
some on her back from when she had chicken pox
one on her right arm where she scraped it on some of her parents research equipment
scraped elbows and knees from playing and tripping so much
old shaving nicks on her legs
permanent bite mark just above her right knee because she fell out of a tree, landed biting herself, and the wound got infected
bottom of her left foot, stepped on a thumb tack in her parents’ study room
JANIS
24 - most annoying habit
it’s so hard to pick just one this girl is annoyance personified lmao. and a lot of them are more traits/ symptoms (of adhd mostly) than habits
she steals EVERY writing implement she can get her hands on. her household has no pens or pencils bc she HAS TO SKETCH SMTH IMMEDIATELY and doesn’t put it back. they are actually everywhere. mostly in her pillowcase because she puts them behind her ear and they fall off while she sleeps, in the shower because again, behind the ear and she finds them while she washes her hair, and in her art studio/area place. her partners/damian are fed tf up.
VERONICA hoo boy
2 - a canon or headcanon hill i will die on
she’s tall. that’s genuinely the first one that came into my head. i love a short gremlin type as much as the next person but she’s a minimum of 5’6.
(i haven’t consumed canon or fic in so long i can’t think of anything personality related i’m v sorry)
3 - obscure headcanon
she’s allergic to a lot of really uncommon/“weird” things and everyone is like ??? how can you even be- okay. she has the fun ones like dairy and bee stings and dogs but she’s also allergic to the cold. her own sweat. gelatin. water. coins. babygirl is literally allergic to the sun.
19 - vices/bad habits tw for sh, alcohol, drugs, etc
obvs drinking and smoking. she becomes an alcoholic after canon and dabbles with harder drugs. she goes to rehab when she’s 20 and gets clean. she stays that way the rest of her life, but some days are easier than others. she still smokes though.
also post canon she burns herself with her cigarettes/does other sh. she attempts a few times but is found and given help. the fourth time sticks and she gradually stops.
she calls heathers ghost to bully her whenever she feels bad about herself to make it hurt worse. heather won’t so she moves onto the others. kurt and ram usually go for it. heather yells at them.
she bites her nails. she chews on her hair. she chews pens and pencils. she has cripplingly low self esteem. she’s constantly changing something about her hair.
the list goes on but these are the biggest i can think of
20 - scars tw for sh again
she’s constantly covered in bruises bc she’s clumsy as fuck
it’s not visible but she has one right on top of her head where her hair won’t grow because she concussed herself on a tire swing and split her head open. she had to get staples and it healed oddly
her septum is a little weird if you look close from a botched piercing
she’s missing most of her fingerprint on her left thumb bc of a particularly involved incident involving superglue
one near her left elbow because she was attacked by a dog as a child. also left marks near her eye (on her cheekbone) and bit one of her fingers so it bends just a little
sh scars :(
appendectomy surgery scar on her tummy
one on her hip because she walked directly into a countertop
scraped elbows and knees
and many many stubbed and probably broken toes from walking into things
43 - 3 comfort foods and 3 they despise
loves: (not counting spaghetti with lots of oregano)
slushees. duh.
homegirl loves a soup. her fav is a simple chicken noodle (bonus points if it’s got good veggies in there) but she’ll try anything. cheese and broccoli. tomato. french onion. matzo ball. her cabinet is like a soup museum.
and she loves animal crackers because they remind her of her childhood and simpler times. and she always sings the shirley temple song because she watched all the movies with her parents and secretly loves them.
hates:
grape soda because it doesnt taste like grape. she gives it a pass because it does taste like purple but she still refuses to drink it.
eggs because she can’t get over what they actually are
corn nuts bc they remind her of the bad times and are also just really gross to begin with
#tysm friend!!!#much appreciated <3#mean girls#cady heron#janis sarkisian#janis ian#janis imi'ike#regina george#veronica sawyer#heathers
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
So uhh…
I just became obsessed with the Foodie Siblings au so now I present you…
CHIPS!
Name: Chips (or Chip)
Pronouns: He/Him
Species: Loggerhead Sea Turtle
Short description:
Chips is a captain of a ship that was given to him by his parents’ last wills. This also included supplies to run the ship, and quite a lot of money, since his parents were rather well-known travelers before they got swept away at sea… Chips has a crew, but his crew mostly consists of the animals he has adopted or taken with him in his journeys. He hopes to build a true crew one day and travel the seven seas!
Extra info:
*I could totally see him hanging out with Mikey sometime, and they’d probably go ship sailing together lol
*Chips is 15 years old if you can’t read the writing (no judgement here, my handwriting’s chicken scratch lol)
*I think Chips would be determined to travel and would get over the ocean, but he’d definitely panic if he fell in considering what happened to his parents
*Chips has numerous pets, but his favorite is Kiwi the Caique Parrot! (Shhh don’t tell!)
*I may add more rottmnt specific plot points so that this isn’t just a turtle oc but we’ll see
*maybe Chips helps search for mutants and baddies over seas for the Mad Dogs
*maybe he changes the flag symbol to the Hamato clan crest or the Mad Dogs shell symbol?
*I’ll like… make him a master post some point with more organization later lmao
More to be added soon, idk :’)
Oh yeah, @sleepis4theweak just to make sure this doesn’t get missed. If I need to add anything else, let me know :]
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of tmnt#tmnt#rise of the tmnt#rottmnt au#tmnt foodie au#chips the turtle#rottmnt oc#foodie siblings and friends au
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Catch Up Tag!
Thanks for the tag, @oh-no-another-idea!
<3 Favorite color - Purple/Lilac, Black, Cyan/Turquoise
<3 Last fun activity - I did some planning for the game I'm hoping to start developing (on my own) soon, I wrote around 1000 words for Scrapyard Boys during my last writing session, played with my cat (though he got a bit too focused and now my hand has several scratches LMAO), did some progress on my digital drawing of Valen from Scrapyard Boys and watched some fun youtube videos!
<3 Song (s) stuck in my head -
The Hearse Song - Rusty Cage
Thunder Bringer - EPIC The Musical
<3 Favorite food - Depends on my mood but anything with chicken and cheese is definitely up there on the list of favorites! Chicken Empanadas, Chicken Risotto with Blue Cheese, Chicken Quiche!
<3 Spicy/sweet/savory - Savory and Sweet! Spicy makes me feel sick (I used to love it but now my stomach is too sensitive)
<3 Last thing I googled - "Anatomically correct heart drawing reference" (I'm doing some gothic horror/fantasy doodles lol)
<3 Current obsession - Writing/drafting Supernova Initiative & Scrapyard Boys, plotting Grim City Chronicles, doing digital art + PLANNING MY OWN GAME AAAAAAAAAA
<3 Something you're looking forward to - Me & my friends' DnD night on Sunday - this campaign has been super cool so far and our characters (especially mine) are in SO MUCH TROUBLE I can't wait to find out how we'll get out of it lol. I'm also looking forward to finishing my Valen portrait and actually starting the development of my game.
Tagging: @sleepy-night-child @thecomfywriter, @wyked-ao3, @sarandipitywrites, @littleperilstories, @the-golden-comet
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
I also feel obligated to say that I would like to take all of them to a hockey game, purely to see how they react to a good fight and how much stadium food they would consume before they inevitably feel sick
BANGTAN + HOCKEY = A RARE OVERLAP OF TWO OF MY FAVORITE THINGS omg. ngl i got inspired to write some headcanons so let's goooo (ty to @sailoryooons for helping me cowrite hehe) 🏒
namjoon: he gets a little lost trying to find his way back to the seats on his own, and when his arm gets grabbed by some important looking dude in a polo, he just goes with it - which is how he ends up in the locker room, sitting quietly through the entire opening pep talk before anyone notices him. the height, the muscles, the general look of confusion on his face: the new assistant coach saw him bumbling around and just assumed he was a healthy scratch - oops!
seokjin: is here exclusively for the shit-talk. bullies the opposing team mercilessly even though he's not actually 100% positive what's going on in the game - it doesn't matter. these clowns need to be TOLD and he's gonna be the one to do it. let's face it, he could play hockey better with his TOES than these losers can! he's also very supportive of any and all fights that break out, and think it's ridiculous that people get penalized for the most interesting part of the game!!
yoongi: possibly the only one actually focused on the game. somehow has all the team standings as well as every single player's name and stats memorized, and can provide them off the top of his head when asked (okay, nobody asked, but he's providing them anyway!!!!!!) (this does actually end up coming in handy when jimin wants to know the names of the cutest players) - he also complains LOUDLY when the refs make terrible calls, and jin immediately joins in despite not knowing or caring what hooking even means.
hoseok: doesn't even know who's winning, all he knows is that he wants to be on the jumbotron so bad - he's wiggling in his seat every time the music comes on, and once the cameraperson finds him, his pure joy meltdown of seeing himself on the screen is so endearing, it becomes a recurring theme the rest of the game to cut to hobi at least once during any given moment of downtime. they even pan over to him during the kiss cam, just for laughs, but jimin is READY and proceeds to lean over and plant the smooch of a lifetime on him.
jimin: jungkook notices it first, and everyone thinks he's mostly joking and/or projecting when he mentions it, but then yoongi corroborates: the players...... can't stop looking at him. two dudes literally skate into each other because neither of them can take their eyes off jimin. guys sitting on the bench are turning around to look at him. he just cards a hand through his hair and tries to keep his knowing smirk to himself.
taehyung: the mysterious enigma that he is, our boy disappears midway through the period, mumbling an excuse about wanting to stretch his long-ass legs which, yeah, fair. but just as seokjin is starting to complain that he's going to miss the start of the period if he doesn't make it back soon, hobi is swatting at his arm and pointing towards the ice because, yep, there taehyung is: sitting prim and proper on the back of the zamboni, princess-waving as he circles the ice. to this day, nobody knows how he talked his way into it.
jungkook: as far as he's concerned, this is an all-you-can-eat buffet with a side of sports. hot dogs, burgers, nachos, pretzels, chicken tenders, popcorn, churros - he's eating til he's nauseous and washing it down with as many beers as he can get away with before jin cuts him off. he's here for a good time, not a long time!!!! .....and yes he will complain the entire ride home that his stomach hurts 🥺
whrguekhgjldf thank u and sorry this is so niche but i had fun lmao
soft hours!! 🌸 if you could do one (sfw!) activity with one member (or subunit!) of bangtan: who are you with & what are you doing?
#bffsoobin#mbox 📮#ask game#I AM HOWLING AT THIS FESTA SHOOT I'VE NEVER SEEN IT BEFORE#WHY ARE THEY WEARING CELTICS JERSEYS AND HOLDING HOCKEY GEAR
56 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello!! I wanted to request a cooking day with Albert? Just louis was out on a mission and Albert was there out of coincidence, and we find the true reason as to why hes not allowed in the kitchen
Pure crack really- considering nobody lets him in the kitchen for a reason LMAO
KITCHEN HAZARD - ALBERT MORIARTY X READER
Warnings : almost burning the house down, this can be read as platonic or romantic, Albert is a walking disaster, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!
Genre : crack only ig?
Word count : 1.0K words
Additional notes : So sorry for taking a while getting to this, nonnie! I hope you understand my reasons for being so slow to get back to my writing routine. I hope you like this one! 💗
Requests: Are closed for the time being.
Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!
Masterlist
They’d just hung their coat on the coatrack when an alarming clatter and clang came from the kitchen. They thought back to how they’d seen Louis set out earlier with William to meet up with the rest of the gang for a mission. And given that Jack had requested for a day off to get some affairs in order at the City Hall, that left only one possibility… one that had them running to the kitchen to put a stop to.
Indeed, there Albert was, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a frown on his face as he made to pick up all the pots and pans that now cluttered the floor.
“Oh dear,” they mumbled, quickly helping him and earning a look of surprise and a sheepish smile in return.
“I haven’t heard you come in,” Albert offered in form of an apology, “I would’ve told you to leave it to me and not worry.”
They gave him a pointed look as his fingers fumbled around a pan’s rim and nearly sent it tumbling once again. “I think seeing you in the kitchen in the first place is enough to make me worry.”
The man chuckled a little, though a faint flush climbed his cheeks. “That was one time.”
Shaking their head, they gently pushed him to the side. “I’m not taking any chances. Let me do the work.” They began to pull out the vegetables they needed from their weekly stock, already formulating the recipe they needed in their mind.
“At least let me help out?” Albert asked, clearly feeling bad that they were overworking themself once again, which had partially been the reason why he’d decided to take up the post for cooking in their place.
After hesitating for a second, they nodded. “Alright, you can wash up and cut the vegetables while I fix up the chicken.”
An eager look in his eyes, he took them from their hands and settled in front of the sink. Having thought that this task, at the very least, they could easily entrust to him, they turned back to the chicken Louis had so thoughtfully bought himself.
Halfway through skinning it, however, they were interrupted by a clatter, and a sharp intake of breath. Alarmed, they turned to find Albert pulling away from the cutting board with a rather deep cut on his index finger that now oozed blood.
“Good heavens, get away from the food!” they cried, ushering him away from possibly posing a health hazard, unhearing of his protests as they forced him to sit down while they fumbled for bandages from the overhead cupboard.
“Really, it’s just a surface scratch. It’s nothing, honestly.”
“Well, it isn’t to me,” they huffed, quick to return and dress the wound, much to his embarrassment. “Infections are widespread these days. I’m not taking any chances.” Their eyes were sharp as they met his emerald ones. “It’s best you stay out of the kitchen until I’m done with lunch.”
“I could do things that don’t directly involve food, maybe help around?” he offered once again, refusing to stand down.
Sighing, they could only wave a hand. “Fine. But this time, just get some oil in a pan. I’m going to simmer some onions, bell peppers, and carrots.”
“Well, I was halfway through cutting these.” Albert attempted to sound optimistic, though one glance at the mangled-looking vegetables had them arching their brow at him. Really, he had no right looking as wounded as he did as they rolled up their sleeves to chop them up properly.
While they busied themself with that, they left him to his devices as he mumbled under his breath, taking his time to figure out how the stove worked. They knew him to be a bit of a genius in his own right, so surely it wouldn’t take him long, and they could focus on the task at hand instead, setting aside each vegetable into a separate bowl once they were done with them.
“Bloody hell,” he hissed from their side, as a thunderous roar sounded the kitchen and startled them into nearly cutting off their entire index finger along with the carrot at hand.
A choked scream left them as they saw the flames engulfing the stove and swallowing the pan whole. “What did you do?!”
“All I did was throw in the onions.” Albert sounded miserable, and looked the part as well—which was only made worse by them looking back in horror.
“All at once at the highest flame possible?”
“Well, I mean, I didn’t… I suppose there’s only one setting available—“
Groaning as the smell of smoke and ashes permeated the area, they practically ran to search for a solution. “Less talking, more putting out the fire!”
“Water then—“
“No!”
***
Louis sniffed as he crossed the threshold of the mansion. That’s odd. It always smelled the exact same every single day, even after meals, because he made sure to air it quite well. This time, however…
He walked into the sitting room, where a very distinctly disheveled duo sat slumped against the back of a sofa, one looking more particularly distraught than the other, who seemed to have an air of guilt about him.
“Does either of you know why the mansion smells like caramelized incense? Or… something stronger?”
Albert looked slightly uncomfortable as he answered. “Now, brother, let’s not—“
“That man,” came a hard voice from beside him, their eyes still squeezed shut underneath their hand, “Is never allowed to enter the kitchen. As long as I shall live.”
“Ah,” Louis hummed in understanding, all the pieces clicking into place and forming the full picture. “Let me take the reins from here.”
They could only wave their free hand at him. Poor thing, Louis thought to himself as he slipped his gloves off and made his way to the smokey-smelling kitchen. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, learning first-hand just why their older brother was banned from ever testing his culinary skills.
Taglist: @sherlockscumslut @lilias-highlights @whitecelluyu @wifeofkyojuro
#imagine#oneshot#anime#fluff#domestic#crack#yuumori#yuukoku no moriarty#ynm#moriarty the patriot#mtp#albert moriarty#albert moriarty x reader#albert moriarty oneshot#albert moriarty fluff#albert james moriarty#albert x reader#albert oneshot#yuumori albert#yuukoku no moriarty albert#ynm albert moriarty#ynm albert
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
15 Questions
I was tagged by @lunarlegend (thankies! 💜)
And I'll be giving no pressure tagging to: @oftincturedwords @alipeeps @promptos-barcode @amiyade @quartzguts @marmolita @kaelinaloveslomaris and anyone else who might want to do this *bonk* tagged.
1. Are you named after anyone? My middle name was my maternal grandmother's name. It's the only part of my name that I actually like lol. I also recently discovered one of its meanings is "sunflower" which makes me eternally happy for some reason XD
2. When was the last time you cried?
Literally today lmao ughhhhhhhh
3. Do you have kids?
Nope, and I highly doubt I ever will.
4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?
I was gonna answer this with yes, but thinking about it now I don't think I use it quite that often. I prefer silly humour instead.
5. What sports do you/have you played?
None, I've never been a sporty person lol.
6. What's the first thing you notice about other people?
Their hair, I think. It's the easiest way for me to remember what someone looks like. I have a hard time with faces.
7. Eye colour?
Blue-greenish
8. Scary movies or happy endings?
Scary movies, I love horror so much (shocking, I know).
9. Any special talents?
Uhhhhhh? I can flare my nostrils, I'm just that amazing (😅).
10. Where were you born?
The north east of England.
11. What are your hobbies?
Writing, video games, reading, photography. I'm quite boring lmao.
12. Do you have any pets?
We have a cat (my sister's, technically), she's black and smaller than regular cats, and she likes to sprint around and act like a kitten even though she'll be, like, 8 this year or something. She was actually legit half feral when she came home as a kitten because she'd been left to live in the back of a barn by the family that had her, but now she's a massive baby that loves attention. We used to be frenemies, I'm the one she scratches up and chews on and kicks and pounces because I'm her play buddy or something, but recently she's decided she's also obsessed with me and comes shouting up the stairs for me if I'm in my room and likes to have naps on my lap while I'm on my computer.
I did have a dog, a black Labrador, though sadly she passed away back in March. But I still love her very much, that absolute GOOFBALL, she was a thief, she loved savoury foods so much, chicken was her favourite thing in the world, and she would rip the heads off dandelions and throw them away WHY I STILL DON'T GET IT WHY GIRL. I feel sorry for the other Rainbow Bridge pets because my girl will be storming around ripping all the flowers up XDDD
13. How tall are you?
5'6"
14. Favourite subject in school?
Uhhhh none lol. I can't remember, I think English and History. I think even religious studies in primary school, I was fascinated with learning about different religions.
15. Dream job? Working on video games maybe. Also film director. I would just love to make films, short ones, long ones, anything. I just want to be able to tell stories in so many different ways lol.
#my brain just really went 'let me tell you about the dumbass animals i've lived with' huh#babiesssssss#i love them#i need caffeine good god#tag game#pet death mention#<- just in case
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
OH NO OH NO OH NO ISLA WHAT HAPPENED???? WHAT WENT WRONG WE WERE DOING SO WELL AHHHHH WHATS THE ICK
ms titz once again this chapter was EVERYTHING i needed and more (even though im terrified of that ending). there is something about the way you write, the way you describe things, that just scratches an itch in my brain. i literally felt like i was the one going on the date the way i was so nervous starting this chapter LMAO. feeding her? the control conversation are u kidding me?? and when he uses mr. eros on to get her to put her wallet away???? i am melting into a puddle. i LOVE them getting to know each other in the daylight and getting vulnerable with each other (the tidbit about her crying both ways to piano lessons… SO on brand isla i’m laughing) and i can’t wait to see if that changes their tomorrow experience (which i stg if isla chickens out or smth i will smack her)
YOU GENIUS YOU 🥰🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 can’t wait for the next one as always!!!!
Firstly, thank you so much for sending this in!! You’re always so kind Therese!! I’m so glad you liked it! The ending is… something… HAHA. But it had to happen!! I promise it’ll all make sense in the end! <3
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! This is actually super off topic from the "main" (? theme of your blog, but I was wondering. As a person who works full time in making art, do you do anything to protect your hands? Asking this as a younger artist who is worried about getting carpal tunnel and stuff djfndk
Great question!
So I find most of my work - both webcomics and my day job - is actually more of a threat to my back and hips than my wrists. I've tried to mitigate these threats by having a mounted tablet that can be set at eye level (or even become a standing desk!) and investing in chairs that are comfortable and keep my posture somewhat reasonably adjusted (but the ADHD bisexual in me still finds ways to sit weird LMAO)
But as for wrist problems! There are some changes you can make to the way you draw to ensure you're not putting too much stress on your wrists:
Take breaks. You aren't under any obligation or expectation to be drawing every minute of the day. You should be trying to let your arm and wrists rest for a few minutes each hour. When you do, shake 'em out, do some stretches and rotations, massage them a little, do what you can to encourage movement other than drawing because it's repetitive movements that will put you at risk for carpal tunnel.
Learn to draw from the shoulder and elbow. This is a technique that was drilled into us during life drawing classes back in college, but learning how to draw from your shoulder will not only reduce the risk of damaging your wrists, you'll also find yourself creating way more confident lineart and brush strokes as drawing from the shoulder will create more lines and less strokes (like the difference between cursive writing and chicken scratching, if that makes sense lol). Focus less on wrist flicks and more on pulling lines through elbow/shoulder motions.
This isn't an option for everyone, but if you can invest in a bigger tablet, do it! It's one of the few times where I can attest that bigger = better, because a larger tablet will give your arm more room to move and will make drawing from the shoulder that much easier. A couple years back I switched from a 13" Wacom tablet to a 22" Huion one, it was a bit of a pricey buy but nowhere near as pricey as Wacom products are and I haven't looked back since because the large screen gives me soooooo much room to pull lines. It's why I have a hard time drawing on iPads nowadays, the tiny compact screen and how easy it is to just draw in your lap makes it ripe for drawing from the wrist. You really just want to try and find a way to mitigate any repetitive wrist flicking motions in general and having a bigger tablet can really help with that.
I hope that helps! I find my wrist is barely ever a problem nowadays, I've yet to end up with signs of carpal tunnel (knock on wood) and when I do have wrist pain, a day of rest typically clears it right up. Now if only I could fix my back/hip problems, then I'd be all set LMAO (but that's something that can only be solved with serious exercise which I... definitely don't get enough of x.x)
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ryen, I was about to reply to your previous reply of my ask. Was arranging sentences, might write something like "Oh so, you're saying if he turn his back, we're going to see that scratch?" And something like "ahhhhh that's the tank reader grabbed while kissing him" or something like "No wonder reader was too stunt to speak", but, you! You came up with the updated banner for summer bbq?! How dare you?! What is this behaviour?! You need to be punished!!!
- chicken lasagna -
LMAO hey it isn’t my fault mr min decided to drop what we needed😂 that man is a menace so.. i think we’re gonna get a LOT of banner content soon enough, which is perfect because of all the 3tan banners i have yet to make👀🫣
6 notes
·
View notes