#my shoulder and elbow hurt rn

[puppygirlkat]

I think about how I can bend my ankles 90 degrees. I think about how i can stack my fingers and hook them around each other. I think about how I can bend my knees back 20 degrees. I think about how this happens often when I walk. When i stand I have to focus to make sure I am not hypextending my knees. I think about how my knees wobble and buckle.

I went to the store yesterday. I bought nuggets, lunchmeat, ramen, bananas, raspberries, apples, a loaf of soft wheat bread, a loaf of nicer 11 grain bread, lactase enzyme, razors, and two tubes of red matte lip cream. The bag was very heavy for me. 15lbs. My arm was a taut rope spinning freely every time i bumped into the bag. My shoulder was raised high compensating for the weight. It felt as though it could pop out of its socket at any moment. I thought, are limbs supposed to do this? My knees started to wobble towards the end of the trip. I felt as though bones were grinding against each other. I stumbled going up the stairs to my apartment. Inside, I sat down for a few minutes. I put the groceries away. I laid down. My joints burned and ached. I felt thankful I wore tights. I always wear tights when I go out. The thicker and the more they compress my legs the better. I dont feel comfortable without them. I wonder now if this is compensating. I remember when I used to go out walking before I came out. My knees would always hurt a lot. I rarely went out because of it. An unfortunate cycle.

I had to replace my boots recently. The padding had worn thin. I would stand around on the sides of my feet, flexing my ankles back and forth, standing on my soles, standing on the sides. A form of fidgeting.

I walk on my toes sometimes. I often walk up stairs on my toes. I walk around the apartment on my toes, pretending I am wearing 6 inch heels. It feels fun for a period. It feels like it exercises my thighs and calves. Often when I go on walks I stretch out my arms, look at the ground, and walk around on my toes. I pretend I am undergoing a sobriety test. I dont drive. I try to walk as straight as I can. It is difficult. I meander as a sine wave. I pretend I am a bird and flap my arms.

In my old worn out boots my knees would wiggle all over the place. I would hobble down the street. My ankles would bend and curve and twist. I always assumed twisting your ankles meant your foot was facing backwards. My friend told me what it actually means. I thought to myself, I do that all the time though.

I think about how I went to a physical therapist in my mid 20s. She said I have no strength in my gluteous muscles. She showed me exercises. I still remember them. I should do them. Maybe my knees will wobble less. She showed me to lie on my side with my knees bent, and twist my leg and hold it for a couple seconds. I cant remember the angle she said I should do. I can bend it 90 degrees. Sometimes more. I sometimes straighten my knee while my leg is twisted this way and move my leg forward in front of me, feeling the stretch extend further. The physical therapist also showed me strengthening exercises for my leg muscles. I lie flat on my back and lift my legs up and hold for a few seconds. Six reps straight, six reps twisted to the inside, six reps twisted to the outside. I dont know if I exaggerate these angles or not. I cannot feel it unless my leg is twisted at least 70 degrees. I can almost get my leg twisted to 90 degrees this way. I feel if i did these consistently I could get my legs straight up in the air as well while they are twisted. As it stands I can only do about 80 degrees. Almost pointed straight up.

I walk pigeon toed, I have noticed over time. Sometimes I exaggerate it on purpose. I twist my legs inward, lean forward, and walk around pretending I am some kind of strange creature. It is fun. I like to be a little weirdo.

I experience a lot of knee and hip pain. Elbow and shoulder pain. Joint pain in general. I view doing these things as helpful for keeping my muscles toned. Is this what ehlers-danlos syndrome hyperflexibility is like? I wonder. My skin is not super stretchy but it is very soft and i bruise easily. Who knows.

[1327-1]

i have a stage this friday. [80 million yard long stare]

[pears-trinkets]

.

[brotherwtf]

some smut for my age gap au bcs they're so precious to me rn

-----

For Gale's 20th birthday, John decided to pull all of the stops for him. It had been a year since they had started dating, and a year since Gale had moved out from his parents place.

John had been taking it slow with Gale over the past year, kissing him for hours on end, palming his hands over Gale's clothed cock, but never dipping his fingers beneath the belt. It made Gale desperate, but John promised when the time was right, he would make it special for Gale.

So, when Gale turned 20, John took him out for a romantic dinner, candlelit and everything, couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful Gale looked in the low light.

And John took him to bed that night, kisses him gently as he pushes Gale into the sheets, lays him down until his blonde hair splays across the pillow, moaning sweetly as John kisses him and dips his fingers underneath Gale's shirt, fingers hot against his waist. He kisses Gale like he's claiming him, like he wants to devour every inch of his mouth and tongue.

It's hot and so good and right that Gale can't help but moan. He's never done this with anyone, only having kissed girls before, so every touch and drag of John's lips was entirely new to him. John shoves the shirt up Gale's body, guiding him so that he lifts his arms above his head so he can take it off. Gale props himself on his elbows, kissing John like he needs it to breathe.

John's hands are large on Gale's stomach and chest, running along the planes of golden skin and Gale feels electric. John's touch is hot and it burns, but Gale loves the burn, moans sweetly for more of it.

He lays back down on the sheets, sighing as John lays his full weight on him, loving how large John feels above him. He manages to get a grasp on John's shirt and unbutton some of the buttons, pushing it off almost desperately so he can finally touch John like he's been wanting to for so long.

Their lips never part as they undress each other, panting into each other's mouths as John shoves Gale's pants off of him, teasing the waistband of Gale's boxers with his fingers.

"How are you doing, darling?" John huffs, pulling his lips away for a brief moment to look down at Gale.

He looks so damn beautiful below him, hair fanned out on the pillows in the most perfect way, eyes heady and lips kiss swollen. He's panting, but he has the slightest hint of a smile ticking at the edge of his lips. John huffs a laugh, diving back in for another kiss.

"I'm fine, John, come on you don't have to be so gentle," Gale whispers against John's lips and he nods.

He manages to push both of their boxers off with a skilled hand, groaning when he grinds his cock against Gale's. Gale moans something pretty and high into John's mouth, one of his hands coming up to grip John's bicep in desperation. John groans against his lips, hooking his arms underneath Gales legs and pulling them up around his hips, moving forward until he rests between Gale's hips, not moving his lips for a second while Gale stutters his hips against him.

John moves a hand between them, taking Gale's cock in his hands and pulling it gently, swallowing all of Gale's shuddering moans with his lips. He moves down to Gale's neck, gently kissing marks into the sensitive skin, admiring his work when he works his way down to his shoulder.

"I'm gonna open you up, okay doll? You tell me if it hurts at all," John says, taking his hand from Gale's cock and moving it down to his hole.

Gale's hips jump when John teases his fingers over him, turning his head and burying his face into the sheets, moaning so pretty when John grabs the lube he had set aside and swept his slick fingers back over him.

John nudges his nose against Gale's face, breathing him in and kisses the furrow in Gale's brow when John works his fingers into him.

"How does that feel, does it feel good?" John whispers, resting his nose on Gale's as he pants gently.

Gale nods, grip getting tighter on John's arms as he adds a second finger, moaning gently against John's face. It's hot and tight, and John groans in the back of his throat when Gale clenches down on his fingers.

When he adds a third, Gale keens high in his throat, hips stuttering violently from the stretch. There's a sheen of sweat over his forehead and he presses it against John's, moaning so prettily against him.

"Alright, darling, are you ready?" John asks, taking his fingers from Gale.

He shifts so he can bracket Gales head with his forearms, grazing their lips together as he grabs his cock and lines it up to Gale.

"Uh huh.. wan' you to fuck me," Gale whimpers, and moans when John gently thrusts into him.

He pants into John's mouth, eyebrows furrowed together as he slowly pushes in, arms scrabbling around John's shoulders for some sort of purchase against the too-much, too-full feeling. When John stops, he begs him to keep going, it feels good.

John's thrusts are slow at first, testing the waters for what makes Gale keen and what makes him gasp. He can't quite stop the tears from falling from his eyes because he just feels so good, can't help it. John notices the tears and stops, which makes Gale whine in frustration.

"Gale? Are you alright? Talk to me doll, why are you crying," John worries and Gale almost laughs.

He shakes his head, tightening his grip on John's shoulders, urging him to start moving again.

"Fuck, John, it's so good, just a lot, don't stop," Gale mutters and moans high in his throat when John starts to thrust again.

It's the most tender sex John has ever had, breathing in all of Gale's sighs and whimpers while he thrusts into him, and he can't help but groan alongside him at the feeling. Gale looks so damn beautiful like this, so fucking beautiful with tears streaming down his face and whimpers coming from his lips. John's muttering praises under his breath, telling him how good he's doing, cursing because of how tight Gale feels.

John starts to move faster when Gale sighs that he's gonna come, moves a hand back to his cock and pulls it a couple of times before Gale is coming all over his stomach, moaning something loud and unabashed against John's cheek, clenching his hands into the meat of John's shoulder. It doesn't take long for John to follow, coming with shaking arms and a prolonged groan, unable to hold his weight up anymore.

He falls on Gale's chest, making sure to kiss him gently as he does and smile against him, wiping away the tears that still streamed down Gales face.

"All good?" John asks and Gale can't help but smile.

"Fuck, John, that was fucking amazing," Gale sighs, tangling his fingers in John's hair again.

John smiles casually, kissing Gale sweet and tender while they come down from their high.

"I'm glad it was with you, John. I love you," Gale whispers.

John picks himself up slightly, holding himself so he can look down at Gale's tender expression. He smiles, brushing a stray lock of Gale's hair from his forehead.

"I love you too, Gale,"

CONSIDER ME CRYING THEYRE SO FUCKING SWEET

[terresdebrume]

Work is kinda hectic rn, my knees are NOT liking how much traveling between floors I have to do, and I am missing sleep like crazy so my WIPs are staying largely untouched but I HAD to push out this concept for a maybe-someday fic in the I'm down on my knees universe

Written for the free square day of @painlandweek . Have some hurt/comfort ft Charles and how he feels about his mum. Also belatedly tagging @ghostinthelibrarywrites bc I think you'll enjoy it and I accidentally posted a thing that was meant to stay a draft again xD

Charles is sitting on the doorstep. It's almost eight PM on a weeknight, Edwin is just back from a fun-study session—which is really just Maren's way of saying she wants beer with her textbooks—tired, brain swimming with texts of law, and more than a little tipsy... And Charles Rowland is sitting on his doorstep. His building's doorstep. The difference is irrelevant.

Caught off guard, Edwin blinks, and stares at Charles.

He is curled up on the ground, spine back in that parenthesis shape it had back in school. His elbows are on his knees, hands buried into the hair at the back of his neck, his eyes closed. Edwin takes in the tension in Charles' shoulders, the way the fading sunlight catches the green vines tattooed on his left forearm, the slow, deliberate depth of movement around his ribcage, and decides against calling out to him. Instead, Edwin walks up to him until Charles can no longer ignore the footsteps, and waits for him to speak.

"Hi," Charles says, muffled, from between his elbows.

"Hi," Edwin replies, chest twisting when the last hope he had that Charles was just a bit tired evaporates like rhum from a flambé.

He steps forward again, then ignores the fresh layer of summer dust on the steps and sits down next to Charles, deliberately picking a position that makes their hips and shoulders touch. Charles leans into it immediately, turning a light contact into solid pressure, and Edwin sighs. Things could be worse.

"I did not expect you tonight," Edwin prompts, trying to make himself as gentle as he can.

Tuesday nights are when Charles and Niko's dance classes take place. Edwin has never known either of them to miss one, so Charles' presence here is one more sign that whatever is going on is not to be taken lightly. As if to confirm Edwin's suspicions, Charles sighs, and mumbles:

"I ran into my mum."

Edwin freezes. For some reason, in the few months since he and Charles reunited, it never quite clicked for him that Charles' parents, for all that Charles hasn't had any contact with them for nearly eight years now, exist in the same world they do. London is such a large, dense city, it is easy to make your life in a corner of it and never step outside its boundaries. Edwin's parents certainly treat Kensington like an insular country only worth leaving for the richer shores of Mayfair, when they deign to visit the capital at all. Just like Edwin and Charles existed less than ten minutes away from each other for months without having a clue, the possibility of him running into Mr. or Mrs. Rowland by accident did not even cross Edwin's mind. Nor Charles', from the look of things.

"That must have been a shock," Edwin says.

He does not know enough to infuse more feelings into his response. Charles, for all that he shares his smiles, his affections and the chief of his worldly possessions freely, has remained incredibly tight lipped about his past. The summary of what Edwin knows of Charles' youth is quite easy to make.

Fact the first: at the age of sixteen, not one term into his stay at St. Hilarion's School for Boys, Charles Rowland jumped into a pool full of a deadly allergy trigger to save Edwin's life.

Fact the second: for the remainder of that school year, Charles endeavoured to make Edwin's life as painless as possible. His presence remains, by far, the brightest highlight of Edwin's adolescence.

Fact the third: at the age of seventeen, or near enough, Charles ran away from what he described as a bad home situation exactly once and proceeded never to mention again. It is Edwin's understanding that Charles may have escaped with nothing but the clothes on his back that day.

Two of those facts, Edwin knows because he was a direct witness to them, and the third was only shared with him because he accidentally made it an implicit condition to renewing his acquaintance with Charles.

Charles Rowland is not an emotional sharer, and Edwin is sort of at a loss.

"Yeah," Charles mumbles after a beat. "It was a bloody shock alright."

Edwin bites on his bottom lip, resisting the urge to push his fists together.

"Would you like to talk about it?" He asks, hoping his voice conveys the appropriate mixture of care and caution.

Charles shrugs, sniffing and rubbing his face against one of his forearms. Edwin bites his lip a little harder, and cautiously raises his right hand to place it on Charles' back. He feels and sees the muscles tense, Charles arching his back like an angry cat for the half second it takes Edwin to take his hand back.

"I apologize," he says, hand hovering uselessly above Charles' shoulder blades, "I wanted—"

"Neck's fine," Charles mumbles, low enough that Edwin almost misses it.

He swallows thickly, pausing when the upstairs neighbors walk by with puzzled faces. Edwin doesn't quite glare at them but it's a near thing, and he turns back to Charles the second they're out of view.

"Alright," he says. "Neck, then."

He only touches two fingers to the nape of Charles' neck at first, trying to keep it light, but that makes Charles tense again so he changes to a more present grip, palm flat and only just brushing with the edge of Charles' hair. Charles doesn't move into it this time, but he doesn't flinch away either. Edwin feels Charles take a deep, soundless breath, like a swimmer before a dive, and braces.

"I. She asked how I was," he exhales at last, and the wind rushes out of Edwin's lungs with a punched out sound. "I haven't seen her in over seven years and she—"

Charles takes a shuddering breath, sharp and painful sounding, and his voice sounds utterly broken when he says:

"He used to beat me up, you know."

Edwin, who hadn't known but kept the possibility in his mind like a bad thorn, bites down on a sympathetic hiss and leans a little harder against Charles instead, stretching so he can lean his forehead against the back of Charles' skull.

"Charles, I'm so sorry," he murmurs, free hand grasping around until it can find the jut of Charles' left knee, and wrap his fingers around it, squeezing with as much reassurance as he can muster.

He wishes, abruptly, that he'd thought to take Charles inside before he started this talk. They both deserve better than the front step of Edwin's building, where another pair of neighbors gawks at them as they walk past. Yet, now that they're here, Edwin wouldn't cut Charles off for all the gold in the world. He fears with an intensity he didn't know he was capable of, that interrupting Charles now would send him back into his usual reserve, and Edwin knows with absolute certainty that he will go to great lengths to prevent that from happening.

"She never—every time he did it," Charles says, almost choking on the words, "she'd just stand—she didn't do anything! And now—now she—"

A long fit of coughing cuts Charles off, wracking his body and shaking Edwin's head even as he tightens his hold on Charles, as if he could make up for his childhood with how much he loves him.

"I'm so sorry," he tells Charles. "You deserved so much better."

Charles' cough subsides, melting into shuddering, soundless sobs that Edwin wants to take into his ribs and hide from the rest of the world. He straightens up and, as gently as he can, guides Charles to lean against him harder until his frame his half cradled in Edwin's arms.

"It's not bloody fair," Charles manages between sobs, gulping air like he's drowning, shaking against Edwin.

Edwin breathes in, tears crowding at the corner of his eyes, and holds Charles closer. He wishes, so desperately, that he could love him enough to erase the past and make all the pain go away.

"I love you," he says instead, recklessly, pressing a kiss into the side of Charles' hair. "I know it doesn't make anything better, but I love you."

They sit like this for a long time, Charles crying and Edwin rocking him lightly like a child, until things finally calm down enough that Charles is ready to go upstairs for tea. They drink it out of the blue mugs Monty bought when he and Edwin moved in, quietly sitting on the couch in one of those strange bubbles of relieved fragility that comes after a crisis. For a long while, they sit in silence on Edwin's couch.

Then Charles sighs, long and tired, and leans sideways until he can rest his head on Edwin's shoulder, one arm looping around his waist.

"I love you too, mate," he sighs, making Edwin freeze. "And it does make things better that you love me."

Edwin, his heart singing from Charles' declaration and bleeding from the way he meant it, nods, and drinks his tea.

[cameronspecial]

hi! are you taking requests rn?

if so, i would love to read about rafe x reader with ocd like cleaning, checking windows & doors. how would he handle it? like pls soft!rafe calming her down when she’s having a meltdown after the hopper etc step inside with dirty shoes

ty<3

Dirty Floors And Wrinkly Hands

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x OCD!Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Masterlist

It’s a constant voice in her head. Telling her that it needs to be clean. That any possible germ could enter a family member’s or her body and get them sick. She spends so much of her day obsessing over everything being clean and then the other half just making sure she did something right. She knows the way she obsesses over things is unhealthy, but she does it to keep herself safe. To keep her loved ones safe. The compulsions are just as bad because they make her feel like she is in a constant state of déjà vu. She gets home and locks the door. As she steps away from it, she doubts that she did it properly. She locks the door again. But what if by relocking it, she did it incorrectly? She has to try again. After all, the third time’s the charm. She relocks it one more time before stepping off of the doormat. Shit. She forgot to take her shoes off before she did it. Now, the floors are dirty. The germs from her shoes are slowly infecting the whole front entry room. She takes her shoes off and heads to the laundry room. She thinks about taking the mop out, except if she uses a sponge, she can really put elbow grease into getting the floor clean. 

That’s how Rafe finds her when he gets home an hour later. She is on her knees, hunching over the tile floor. Her fingers are shrivelled up and ache from the pressure she is putting into digging the sponge into the floor. Rafe locks the door as hard as he can to reassure Y/N that he did it. He wipes his shoes on the front mat and then takes them off. Before he greets his girlfriend, he washes his hand like a surgeon. Even if she can’t see how he washes his hands, he will know he didn’t do it correctly. 

He pads back to the front room and carefully walks over the drying floor. He squats down to be closer to Y/N, cringing at the sight of her hands. He slowly reaches out to place his hands on hers. Her movement stops as she flicks her eyes over to him. “I stepped on the floor with my shoes,” she cries, trying to get back to cleaning. The corner of his lip curves a little, “And it’s okay that you did, Sweetheart. Remember what Dr. Palmer said. You only need to clean things once. The germs can’t hurt you if you do that.” “Yes, but I cleaned it and then I accidentally touched it before I washed my hands. So it made it dirty again,” she explains, wiggling her hurting fingers. Rafe shakes his head, “I understand, Sweetheart. I just saw you clean it now, so it means it is clean. Right?” She nods her head. “Then how about we go wash our hands now? It would mean your hands and the floors are clean.” He stands to his full height and offers his hand. She takes it so that she can stand as well. He leads her into the bathroom and steps back while she washes her hands. When he sees she goes to wash it again, he gently pulls her away from the sink under the guise of needing to wash his own hands. 

———

The next day, Y/N is watching TV in her living room when a knock comes at the door. Rafe calls out that he is going to get it and he lets Topper in. The boys are stuck in a conversation, so Topper forgets to take his shoes off before stepping off of the floor mat. The boys don’t notice it, yet Y/N does. They turn at the sound of her running to the laundry room. Topper looks down and notices his shoes are still on. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Man,” he apologizes as he takes his shoes off immediately. Rafe claps his hand on the other boy’s shoulder, “It’s okay. Do you mind just going into the other room while I help her out?” Topper’s head moves from side to side as he makes his way into the living room after putting his shoes away. 

She comes running back into the room with a bucket of soapy water and a sponge. Rafe’s hands drop on her shoulders. “Hey, why don’t you let me clean it? You know I know how you like to get it clean and you can watch to make sure I do it right,” he offers, taking the clean tools into her hand. She quietly agrees and steps back. Her eyes observe as he follows every single step she has talked about when it comes to cleaning. He goes over every square of tile twice and puts as much pressure onto the sponge as he can. Once he is done, the nagging voice in her head has died down. He looks at her for approval and she gives him a tiny nod. He gets up, putting everything away for her. He washes his hands under her surveillance before giving her a kiss. They make their way hand and hand to the living room so they can watch TV. Y/N can’t help but thank the universe for giving her a boyfriend, who is so understanding and doesn’t mock her for her OCD.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama @wickedlovely121 @starkowswife @drewsmusee @maybankslover

[sorencd]

a scenario with neil where another character (maybe knox?) is flirting with you or maybe tells the poets that he wants to ask you out and neil gets jealous would be so amazing if you’re willing to write it!

im so sorry if this comes off as messy or smth i just woke up from this surreal, felt-like-a-thousand-years nap and i am so disoriented rn but i needed to write this fic 😝😝also the entire time i read this with alex's voice in mind because i finished watching a clockwork orange this morning and i couldn’t get his british narrative voice out of my head. that's all, i hope u enjoy this, my brothers.

"alright, take a knee lads. i've got news."

knox proclaimed as he stood up, his voice gently resounding along the dimly light cave. the hood he wore accentuated the somewhat ominous, shakesperean over-dramatic tone he spoke in. the other poets and you diverted their attention from the snack-filled coat on the ground to him, curiously anticipating what their fellow poet was about to say.

“i’ve been thinking, won’t it be a brilliant idea to ask out the lovely (y/n)?”

his leather covered feet clicked against the damp ground, his face glimmering with smugness as he looked at you. half-expecting you and the poets to agree to his question. you rolled your eyes, disregarding his usual foolish antics and resumed your secluded talk with todd about cooking.

“i think that’s a no from (y/n), knox.”

charlie’s exclaimed while his loud cackle reverberated through the cave as soon as he saw the scrunched-up nose you had on your face. a clear sign you didn’t like what knox said.

“it never hurts to try, no?”

“it might, neil here looks like he’s got his knickers in a twist.”

everyone’s attention quickly focused on neil, who just as fast as the other poets’ heads turn removed the grouchy look on his face before anyone could see how much the situation was affecting him.

“what?”

“no need to grip your pants that tight, give it a break.” charlie teased, jabbing his elbow into neil’s side.

you didn’t want to stay any longer, you could feel the conversation lead to somewhere unpleasant and you weren’t gonna stay long enough to find out. besides, your eyes were giving up on you.

“i think i’ll be the first one to hit the hay.”

“this early?”

you dusted off any debris or dirt away from your pajamas and stood up from your spot.

“good night!”

a flurry of voices wished you good night and the sounds of you walking away echoed from within the cave, with how focused you are in staring into the abyss, you couldn’t hear the footsteps that followed yours.

“(y/n).”

you quickly whipped your head around to find neil, jogging slightly to catch up with you.

“neil?”

“the one and only.”

“are you making sure i get back to my room safe? aw you didn’t have to.”

he laughed, softly and gently, as the wind blew past the two of you.

“are you okay? you look like you were about to kill someone.”

neil rolled his eyes before sighing, pocketing both of his cold hands.

“i just didn’t like what knox said.”

“what, were you jealous?”

you teased, a small playful grin adorning your lips. you looked at him, expecting him to be sharing the same look as you.

“what if i said i was?”

he looked into your eyes, as if he was mesmerizing at each feature on your face, and as if he was awaiting your response.

“it’s getting late, neil. you’re probably a bit delirious. let’s hurry back.”

“i’m not.” he stopped dead in his tracks, leaving him a few steps behind before you stopped your own walking.

“i like you, i’ve liked you since the moment i’ve met you, (y/n).”

unlike the cold and chilly winds that kept gushing and embracing your body, your cheeks were another story. it felt like they were on fire, you could almost already hear neil calling you a tomato with how red they were.

he took a few steps forward, he took off the coat that hugged his shoulders and offered it towards you.

“would you like to go out with me?”

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch3

Description: third chapter - who am i updating twice today?! Anyway, Laika gets upset, Kyle is a sweet baby angel. We hate Soap and Ghost rn, Price is ok, I guess. Will just have to wait and see if they make up. Guess we will just stick with Gaz for the time being, huh? We find out a little more about Laika’s past here, but she is keeping things close to her chest. Who will she open up to first?

The car ride, so far, hasn't been an enjoyable one. I feel caged in between Gaz's large body and the door. I try to take up as little space as possible, deciding to uncomfortably twist my body and stare out of the window. There isn't much to see. We seem to be driving through the middle of nowhere, and I dare not ask where we were going or when we would arrive. I decide, instead, to watch the raindrops slide down the window, taking bets on which one would make it furthest before collecting too much weight and flying off of the glass into the wind.

I glance around a couple of times and accidentally make eye contact with the masked man through the side mirror. I decided not to look in that direction again. I cannot shake the itch of his gaze, though. He truly does terrify me.

I sit there uncomfortably before my eyes start feeling heavy. It was late—it must be around 2 a.m —and pitch black outside. I want my nest, if you can even call it that. My cell isn't exactly luxurious, but it is - was - my space. The facility had stripped me of everything. I was found with just the clothes on my back, and now all I have left is a filthy handkerchief that I was found with, that I have somehow managed to hold on to. I swear it still has the lingering scent of...before.

The handkerchief in question is currently tied around my upper arm. I use it as a makeshift cushion for my sniper rifle. I told myself that it lessened the jolt of the recoil, but it doesn't, if the permanent bruise on my bicep is anything to go by. It goes everywhere with me, it is all I have that reminds me of what I was before I became a puppet for the Russians. When I'm in the comfort of my own nest and hear the lock click in place, I use it as a pillow. It smells of something I cannot place, maybe it just doesn't hold the smell of the cold, damp cell, but I find it grounds me regardless.

I decided to try and get it from my arm. I need grounding right about now. I try to reposition myself quietly, making a huge effort not to make a sound or touch Gaz, who is having a quiet conversation with the captain. As I turn, I can see that Soap is fast asleep, head lulled back against the window. His mouth is wide open, and he is on the verge of snoring. I know that the scary masked one is watching me through his mirror as he tenses as I start to move—just ever so slightly, but enough to scare me a bit. It throws me off my task, and I ever so gently brush my elbow against Gaz's ribs. He immediately glances down at me.

I freeze and stare up at him. "S-sorry" I stutter, trying to back myself as close to the car door as i can. "What are you trying to do?" He asks me softly. I shake my head as if to say 'just leave it' but Gaz is too observant for that. He notices my tiny glance down at the handkerchief tied around my arm and acts immediately.

"Oh shit, are you hurt under there? Hold still, let me look." He must assume that I'm using it as a makeshift bandage. Something deep inside of me snaps and I growl at him as he reaches for the piece of fabric. I feel all of the eyes in the car snap to me immediately, even Soap's, who has woken from his sleep. The Captain must tap the brakes as I slide forward slightly, causing me to whimper due to the loss of balance. I quickly correct my seat and twist away from Gaz and stare at my feet. If I could curl into a ball and disappear, I would do it in a heartbeat. Embarrassment, shame and fear wracks my body. I sit and whimper in the back corner of the car.

That is until a soft hand touches my shoulder, so gently that I almost don't feel it. "Hey shh, Laika, I'm sorry - I didn't mean to snatch at you like that. Let me look.. I just want to make sure you're ok." I shake my head and whisper a broken "I'm fine" at him, without looking at him. He starts rubbing a small pattern into my shoulder. "Ok, that's fine. Were you uncomfortable? I felt you moving before you snapped at me". Damn him and his soft nature, the use of the word 'snapped' floods me with shame. "S-sorry. Didn't mean it. I don't bite.. promise. Just got scared.. It's mine.. no one else can touch it." I explain weakly, feeling utterly pathetic.

Gaz continues to dig: "It's yours? The bandana on your arm" - "s'not a bandana, it's a handkerchief" I interrupt. He laughs slightly at that, Soap pipes up from beside him "Aht's you been telt boyo" he says chuckling. I quickly flit my eyes at them and see Soap chuckling away to himself and Gaz rolling his eyes. "Sorry" I whisper, looking at Gaz for the first time in a while.

He immediately finds my eyes and smiles. "Stop saying sorry.. You didn't do anything" he says kindly. I relax slightly at that before the masked man in the front who had been silent the whole ride decides to shatter any progress I had made with Gaz.

"That's debatable. A girl with that much blood on her hands - I wouldn't call that 'didn't do anything'" he barks. I immediately tense up and curl into a ball, shaking. Tears pool in my eyes. "He's right," I whimper. "I'm a monster."

Gaz's eyes flash angrily at the mask man who only shrugs and grunts in response before looking back out the front window. He immediately looks back to me with the softest eyes, I almost have whiplash from the change in emotion he showed so quickly. "We don't know enough of the facts to make a judgement on that yet. And as far as I can tell, you are no monster. You're just a small bug that got caught in a spider's web. Is that closer to the truth, Laika?" He asks.

His brown eyes don't look away, I almost feel like nodding in agreement but my stupid, self destructive brain overrides that decision. "I am a monster though. I've killed people. Good people, I think. Lots of them. And people have been killed because of my actions too." He listens intently "What do you mean you think?" he asks. "I- I was told that they were bad - but they couldn't all have been bad. I think I was the bad one. So he's right" I glance at the masked man.

"Tell me, did you want to do it?" he asks - I shake my head immediately "No - never - But the punishments.. I couldn't.. and then the drugs and tests.. I was too weak.. I should have died.. You should kill me" I rush out, tripping over my words and interrupting myself.

I jump in my seat slightly when the Captain's gruff, authoritative voice snaps though my self loathing rambling. "No one - and I mean this - is going to kill you. And we will get to the bottom of this. We have friends in high places, they will dig into your past and see what happened. Until then, we give you a room at base, keep you safe and go from there. We aren't in the business of punishing innocents." His speech stuns me into silence again and I find myself just staring into space.

"And for the record - I agree with Gaz." He adds, practically spitting his anger at the masked man for making the accusation in the first place. "Now, let's all calm down - let Gaz check your arm, lass. That's an order". My eyes widened, panicked, still not wanting Gaz to take my handkerchief. My eyes shoot to his and I ever so slightly shake my head once. He tilts his head slightly as if to ask 'Please?'. God, he has his puppy dog eyes down. I look at my arm and back to him before quickly untying the fabric from my arm and presenting my uninjured arm to him. Obedience is rewarded, my brain repeats its favorite mantra. I stuff the handkerchief into my pocket for safe keeping.

"Can I touch your arm?" Gaz asks, asking for consent again. I nod once. He gently takes my arm and turns it over in his gentle grip. "No wounds, but a deep bruise" He announces to the team. The mask man turns in his seat briefly before facing the front again and just barks "Sniper".

"You a good shot then?" Gaz asks me. "I don't miss" I reply bluntly. He nods. "What else can you do?" He digs for more information. "Gaz.." the pack's alpha warns from the driver's seat "Don't push your luck".

"I can do most things. Don't like hand to hand though.. I-I'm not as strong.." I muse. He nods. Soap interrupts, "Ya like bombs, lassie?" "No." I immediately responded, shutting him off. I've decided that Gaz is my favorite, followed by The Captain. Then a long gap to Soap, who just seems pushy and insensitive, and then an even longer gap to the masked man who I don't even have a name for. I don't care to find out either.

The car settles back down, and I turn back to my window. Soap has opened his window to let some air in, but it makes me shiver. I'd never been good in cold climates—ironic, I had survived the long Russian winters for all this time, really. I try to close my eyes and pretend to sleep. I slowly remove the handkerchief from my pocket and lift it to my ear, resting it between the window and my head. I inhale the smell gently, trying to imagine what it used to smell like. I drift into a half sleep - half awake state and then feel something soft and warm drape over me. I resist the urge to jump out of fear. It's the last thing I feel before finally falling asleep.

The car pulls to a halt. I wake up as soon as I hear a car door open, always on edge. I pull my cover towards me, clutching to it like a shield, until my brain processes where I am and what to do. I meet Gaz's kind gaze again. "We are here, back at our safehouse. Put it on.. It's cold out."

I look at him as if he had grown two heads, confused, until I realise I am clutching a dark coloured jacket. It has a Union flag on the sleeve. I spot the tags inside the jacket, black pen writes 'Garrick' over the washing instructions. It reminds me of how my mother wrote my name inside my school pullover. Y/N - That was a whole lifetime ago. I hadn't forgotten my name, but it had slipped into obscurity a long time ago. It was connected to a hope I had long since lost. I must have zoned out because Gaz - Garrick? - clearshis throat.

I quickly stand, putting the jacket on obediently and stuffing my handkerchief in the pocket for safe-keeping. The jacket is big, but it's warm. I ball the extra sleeve length into balls in my fists and squeeze them as if they are stress balls. Gaz hides his triumphant glee at seeing a cute little thing in his clothes. It awakens a side of his Alpha that had been dormant for so long.

Gaz was, arguably, the least trait-typical Alpha in his pack. It was unusual to have a pack full of Alphas but they made it work. Seeing a non-Alpha trust him and, inadvertently, covered in his scent, awakened an inbuilt reflex to protect. He steps closer and offers his arm to lead me into the safe house.I shake my head gently, not quite ready to accept his touch. He respects my decision and shows the way with his arm.

He smiles as I step towards him. I smile back up at him this time.

[poraphia]

Halloooo ^^ ..

I read a lot of ur stories and now Im in love with fictions :3 (might need therapy cuz of it but nvm that)

U an amazing writer <3

(Im pretty new to Tumblr so extremely sorry if this ends up where it shouldnt be or smth like that lol)

But anywaaay , Can I pls request a Wilbur Soot angst fic :D ?

Im going thru THAT phase rn so anything would be awsome really ..

Maybe a fight (unintentionally) breaks out between Wilby and reader and Wilby accidentally raises his voice and reader gets scared ? I know its a cheesy story and people might'a written before but I barely find Wilbur angst fics anymore :(((

Anyway , Thank u so much .. U dont have to write any of this if ur uncomfortable .. Hope ur doing okay :> .. Take care n' bye :D

"You’re Being Too Loud."

➵ PAIRING! cc!stressed!wilbur x stressed!reader

➵ CREATING! 10.12.23 | 1444 words

➵ CONTAINING! angst to comfort, wilbur is ignoring reader, reader lowkey has attachment issues, reader sensitive to loud noises, wilbs is overworked

➵ SAYING! hiii @toastyliltoasts41 welcome to tumblr! sorry for the late late response but i hope you enjoy :) personally going thru this myself especially w so much work ive been doing recently and also im noise sensitive (literally walk around with noise canceling headphones all the time). thank u for all the nice words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I slipped off my shoes and placed them near the doorstep. My socks glided against the furnished planks as I slid to our shared office. I dragged my backpack behind me, feeling the weight of my laptop, notebooks, and textbooks. Once I made it to the room, I placed my bag on the chair and unpacked all my belongings onto my desk.

Today was too exhausting, and the one thing I dreaded doing right now was to open my laptop and be faced with more work. Instead of taking my laptop with me, I grabbed my phone and dragged myself out of the office and into the bedroom.

After changing into my loungewear, I snuggled myself into silk sheets, shivering a little from the cold fabric wrapping around my body. Ignoring the chill, I held up my phone with both of my hands and swiped open the messaging app to text my boyfriend. I glanced at the past messages, realizing that Wil hasn’t responded to any of my messages from this afternoon. The last time he texted was this morning when was telling me what time he would come home. Sighing, I typed in another message in hopes that this time he would respond.

“Hey, I’m home now. Too tired to cook food today. Let’s order something when you get home? <3”

I clicked send before clicking off my phone and placing it on the nightstand. My eyes fluttered close, and slowly, I drifted off to sleep.

I woke to the sound of footsteps clicking against the ground. With my hands I pushed my body up to examine the noise. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a familiar tall figure headed toward the office. A small smile formed on my face as I carefully got out of bed.

My bare freet pressed against the cream colored carpet. I wandered around the hallway before finding the office door slightly ajar. Through the crack I saw Wil hunched over his computer. His sweater’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his fingers hastily clicked against his keyboard. Quietly, I approached him from behind, throwing my arms around his shoulders and hugging him close.

Wil quietly hummed in response. I titled my head, pecking his cheek, but he didn’t react and instead his eyes stayed glue to his screen. My eyebrows slightly furrowed, but nonetheless, I continued hugging him.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I mumbled in a croaky voice.

“Hey,” he replied blankly.

“Did you see my texts earlier today?”

“Uh huh,” He said absently. “I saw the message after I ate though. Sorry.”

I felt my chest tighten a little, hurting at his absence. All I wanted in the moment was a hug and a conversation about each other’s day, but instead, he was absorbed in his work and couldn’t even make the effort to look at me.

“Wil, can we talk?” I asked.

He slightly shook his head. “No, not right now, honey. This video has to be out by tomorrow and one of our editors hasn’t been feeling well so I took up the work.” He explained briefly.

“But you’re already busy working at the studio…” I mumbled.

“I know, but I can finish this up by tonight. Just give me some time, please.” He requested. My heart skipped a little, feeling like a dog that had been put aside for a brand new puppy.

“Wil, you haven’t talked to me all day. Could we at least just have dinner together?” I nearly pleaded.

“I already said I just ate, (y/n).” Wil said rather sternly. “Please can I just finish my work?”

“But I want to spend time with you.” I said, speaking up a little bit. I unwrapped my hands away from him and stepped back a little. He turned his chair a little to face me with one of his hands still on the keyboard. He looked up at me, a stressed but furrowed expression on his face. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging my own chest.

“I want to spend time with you but you’re basically prioritizing this work over me.” I said again. “I understand that sometimes you have too much work. I understand that. But we haven’t been spending time with each other for the past few days and it’s driving me crazy. I just want to relax with you, Wil.” I bit the insides of my cheek. Wil, in turn, sighed and rubbed his nosebridge.

“I’m not prioritizing work over you, (y/n), I’ve just been busy lately and this argument is just stressing me out even more.” His words were spat out like venom.

“Which is why I’m asking that we just spend time together! This isn’t just for me, but it’s for you too.” I threw my hands up, frustrated. “Wilbur, we can relax together! You’re acting like this isn’t stressing me out either!”

Wil got up from his seat now. His tall figure nearly towered over me, making me slightly cower. “I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING RELAX RIGHT NOW, (Y/N)! I HAVE SHIT TO DO!”

I stepped back, nearly stumbling. Without realizing, tears were running down my burning hot cheeks. The air went cold and I felt this hallowing emptiness surrounding me. A ringing was bouncing in my eardrums and goosebumps ran through my arms and legs. He looked down at me, eyes wide as if he just realized what words escaped his lips. Before he could say a word, I walked out of the office and back into bed, slamming the door behind me.

I jumped into the mattress and buried my face deep under the sheets. I quietly sobbed into the fabric, not caring for the tears darkening the silk. It didn’t take but a couple minutes later to hear the creaking of the door and soft footsteps approaching the bed. I lied still under the covers as I felt the mattress dip from a newfound weight.

Wil sat there for a while. His knee shook a little, making a tiny thumping noise against the floor. I was turned away from him with his lower back lightly pressing against the heel of my foot.

“(y/n)..?” He softly called out for me. “Are you awake..?”

I shifted a little, moving my foot away from him to let him know I was listening. He sighed with his leg coming to a stop.

“(y/n), I’m sorry. I—I’ve just been really stressed, but that gives me no right to start yelling at you. And me being really busy has been taking away the time with you.” He paused a little bit, presumably licking his lips. I still didn’t have the courage to move. Instead I laid still, not daring to move. “I’m really sorry, (y/n).” He apologized again.

A deep sigh huffed from my nostrils before I sat up, letting the sheets cascade off my body. He turned his head to look at me, his feet still planted on the ground. I looked into his eyes, seeing the pained looked deep in those irises.

“Y-You know I don’t like loud noises.” I croaked out, my voice cracking with my words. He slowly nodded, bringing his legs up on the bed to fully face me. “And I really don’t like it when you yell. Please, I really just wanted to spend time together.”

“And we will spend time together.” He grabbed my hands and cradled them in his. “I’ll message Elodie right now if she could finish the work. But right now, it’s going to be me and you together, okay? We can maybe catch up on our show and I’ll order some food for you, okay?” He reassured, rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand. “Maybe I’ll steal some fries from you every once in a while.”

I giggled a little. “Noooo! Get your own food!” I whined, lightly pushing his shoulder. He chuckled in response before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest. I wrapped my arms around his torso in response, breathing in his scent.

“I just missed you, Wil, you know that…” I softly whispered. He nodded, running his fingers through my hair.

“I missed you too. I promise I do.” He whispered back. His voice was low and deep but he made sure to maintain his volume. It was soothing, something I could fall asleep to,

and most importantly,

it wasn’t loud.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

a / n ~ hope you enjoyeddd notes of all kind are super duper appreciated! if you wanna be in a taglist or an anon my inbox is always freee :D ALSO SURPRISE!! TWO ONESHOTS IN ONE DAY I AM ON A ROLLLL

[botboots]

Hey! I'm probably SOOO late to transformers fanfics and one shots but I've come with this prompt,( I hope you like it enough to write it!) could you write Ratchet x injured reader, g/n or female. Injured shoulder, and maybe trying to hide it from him? Also in Tfp? If all this isnt too much to ask? Thank you for considering! Have a good day/ night

a/n: heehee this one was fun. the dialogue is kinda splotchy because theres a lot going on in my brain rn but!! hope you like it <3 also reader is cybertronian bc there are NOT enough cybertronian!reader fics out there and theyre very fun to write tbh. hope thats okay!!

ALSO! guidelines have been updated so before anyone submits a new req please read it! and please please request mirage/rotb fics oh my god im obsessed with it ROTB WAS SO GOOD </33

warnings: very minor injuries, pining <3 word count: 1059 (GN, cybertronian!reader) continued under the cut

-----------------

The purple and green swirl of the ground-bridge closed behind you as you followed your team back into base, the lingering energy buzzing under your plating.

Glancing at Bumblebee, a small twinge of pity struck you as he made his way over to the medical bay. The scout had taken a few nasty punches from Breakdown and clearly wasn’t feeling too hot; dents littering his armor.

“We showed ‘em, huh?” your focus was snatched when Bulkhead caught you off guard with his usual celebratory elbow-bump, sending you stumbling a little from the force. A sharp pain ran up your arm to your shoulder and you winced.

“Yea- totally.” sending the wrecker a strained smile, you gave him a half-hearted push back. He tilted his head, about to open his mouth to ask you something when Miko booked it over to the two of you, questions spilling out of her mouth at a mile a minute. All of them were something gore or violence related, asking Bulkhead if he got any pictures of some “hardcore massacre-ing”. The girl's interests were a little concerning, but endearing. Nonetheless, you took the opportunity to slink away and avoid any more attention. Angling your helm, your face scrunched up at the sight - and feeling - of the wound on your shoulder.

Too focused on the fight in front of you, a stray Vehicon had been able to sneak up behind you and catch you by surprise. Fortunately for you, Vehicons were mass trained for quantity over quality and didn’t have the best shots. The blast grazed your shoulder, tearing between some of your paneling to the barely exposed wires. It hurt like a bitch at first, but adrenaline buried it enough that it wouldn’t distract you - plus it was small enough that none of your team noticed. Now that you were back at base, though, the piercing sting prodded at your processor incessantly. You did want to go and see Ratchet about it - always finding some kind of excuse to be around the mech - but he was dealing with Bumblebee right now, and you didn’t want to add to his plate. Not like it was anything life-threatening, anyway. You could just try and patch it up yourself - you’ve spent enough time with Ratchet to pick up a few things yourself.

You stole a glance at said medic, who you only just noticed was looking right at you. Immediately you realized from the questioning look on his face, raised brow and all, he had probably caught both your reaction to Bulkhead bumping into you and the grimace you had made at your shoulder. Optimistic, you shook your head at him, giving the mech a meager thumbs-up and a “I'm-actually-totally-fine” smile. He gave you a hard stare, and your spark sank when he motioned you over with a flick of his digits. You begrudgingly made your way over to the medical bay. As you neared, Ratchet had already cleared Bumblebee and was shooing him out. The scout passed you, and your attention was focused on Ratchet waiting with a cocked helm and his ever-present RBF. Standing awkwardly under his gaze, almost scrutinizing, you huffed. Without a word, the red and white medic picked up his scanner, turning it on with a loud click and running the green laser over your frame.

“Really, doc - I’m fine. It’s nothing.” you tried, and failed, as he kept the device lingering at your shoulder. With a deadpan look covering his faceplate, he put the scanner down and placed his servos over your shoulder plating. You grit your denta to keep a pained hiss from leaving you, wincing when he felt around the frayed wiring.

“Nothing, huh?” you pouted at his scoff, his metal brows knitted together as he examined the shot that had barely missed doing any serious damage. “Sit.” he ordered, gesturing to the medical berth while he moved to grab some tools from a nearby counter. Embarrassment was settling in your chassis, but you did as you were told.

It technically didn’t take long to patch you up, but the old mech made it seem like eons to you with the way he was muttering about “some of the team having egos too big for their own good.” It only made the burn of embarrassment grow, and you ducked your head when he gave you a pointed look. Ratchet was nothing if not thorough in ensuring you knew when he disapproved of something.

Soon enough he finished up, giving the patched wound a once-over.

“Anything else you’re not telling me?” he questioned, the familiar lilt of sarcasm back in his tone. That at least steadied your nerves a little.

“No, sir.” you mocked, raising one of your servos in a half-assed salute.

He scowled, crossing his arms, “I’ll have Optimus enforce mandatory health checks every time you come back to base.”

Frantically shaking your helm, you raised both servos defensively, “Okay, okay!” you sputtered, “Won’t happen again.” His optics narrowed, giving you a hard stare, and you released a heavy sigh. “Promise.”

Ratchet debated it for a moment, still having half a mind to just assign the checks anyway, but as you kept your optics trained on his, the mech’s will buckled and he huffed a quick, “Good.”

You both were staring at each other for just a moment too long before Ratchet gave a quick cough. “Come back if the pain flares up again.” he waved you off as he made his way back to his usual spot at the terminal. You blinked, watching him walk off with a slightly heated face. Awkward. Hopping off the medical berth, you were careful not to irritate your shoulder and mess it up more than it already was. As you walked past Bumblebee he whirred to grab your attention. You paused, turning your head to him with a raised metal brow.

The scout chirped at you teasingly from where he sat, nodding his head way too obviously towards you and then Ratchet, who was already burying himself back in his work. Your optics widened, immediately narrowing into an offended glare as you jabbed a digit towards him.

“Don't. Even.” you grumbled, folding your arms and walking briskly away from Bumblebee’s poorly stifled, chittering laugh that echoed behind you. Your previous pity for the mech quickly dissipated as your faceplate burned. Primus.

[mellosdrawings]

What do you use to draw with? Like what device and drawing app? I finally graduated high school and want to get back to drawing and maybe start posting it but I wanted some advice

Hi~

I'm just gonna go and give you my full setup (plus health advices coz trust me they're important).

These days I use an IPad Pro 11" and Procreate. My friend has the bigger version but I hurt my elbow using it because it made my moves too big, so I settled for the littler version. I suggest you chose based on your feelings for that. If you want a bigger screen to see more of your work, it's perfectly valid.

If you do take those two, I suggest you also take the ICloud save. (I have the 200Go save and that's only 3€ a month, but the 50Go save in free!) Should your IPad eventually break, you'll be able to retrieve ALL your art files from the Cloud, which is a huge lifesaver!

(I used to use a simple computer plus graphic tablet plus Adobe Photoshop, but it kept crashing so much that I had one too many rage quits. Plus it's super expensive since it's subscription based, and nowadays they take your art from the Adobe Cloud to feed their AI, so I can't really recommend that. Photoshop is an excellent tool but the direction Adobe is taking does NOT suit me.)

For brushes I just use the default Procreate Pencil. For the eraser I use Syrup, which is found in the default Inking Brush set.

My base canvases are 4000x4000px with a DPI of 300 (I suggest you improve the DPI if you do illustrations or really precise work. I only do little fanarts and comics with that DPI). For posting online please be careful to chose an RGB color profile (I use the default Display D3). If you ever want to print though, you should chose a CMYK color profile (I use the Generic CMYK Profile then).

Now back to the real world! I'm going to strongly suggest you make sure your paper/computer/screen is at least at an angle, at best right in front of your face. The least pressure you have to put on your neck (bending), the better it will be. If you do traditional art, I'll suggest actual art tables that you can adjust in size and angle. Here's mine.

To prevent any pain in my thumb I use one of those hold-helpers thingies kids use to hold their pens properly! It increases the size of the grip which prevents from holding the pen too tight (trust me, it's important). You can also find special tape to roll around your pen if you need an even bigger grip.

I wish I had a proper desk and chair because that will also be very important for your posture and health, but rn I'm not in my own flat so eh. What I'll encourage you to do instead are stretches and exercises BEFORE and AFTER an art session. Fingers, wrist, elbow, shoulder, back, neck. If you want to avoid medical costs (masseur, kine, osteopath) you need to take great care of your body. You can also find little self-massaging gadgets in sports shops to help with your muscles.

(Talking from experience there. I'm only 25 and I already had to undergo surgery on my writing wrist because I f*ed up. Your health is important!)

I'm aware most of those are extremely expensive to get (it took me half a year of intense working and savings just to get the IPad) but I've found that they were 100% worth it in the end. It's alright to get things little by little if you feel they are going to be important for you. I strongly suggest you invest in your health first though!

Once you have decided on your preferred setup, I guess the only thing left to do is train, experiment and have fun!

I think that's all? If you need more advices on setups or art or whatever, I'd be happy to help, my DMs are always open!

Also congrats on graduating highschool!

[cicimunson]

What You Deserve

Author's Note: I'm easing back into writing, so this fic is super short but it's basically therapy for me rn. I do plan to resume all my series, gonna be on here much more.

Story Summary: You get your heart broken, and Eddie is there for you.

Ship: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Reader is really fucking sad, there's a stabbing joke, idk if that would bother someone but just in case.

You burst into Eddie’s trailer without knocking, practically sprinting down the hall to his room and flinging open the door. He and his friends jump when you barge in, startled, Gareth practically falling off the bed.

“Jesus, Y/N do you knock-” Eddie trails off as he notices your tear streaked face. “Alright guys, out.” He says immediately, waving a hand dismissively.

Jeff groans. “You’re kicking us out? We’re in the middle of campaign plotting!”

“Out!” Eddie repeats, pushing them towards the door.

“Of course his girlfriend ranks above us guys, don’t act surprised.” Dustin teases, tugging on Jeff’s arm.

“She’s not my girlfriend, for the millionth time.” Eddie rolls his eyes. He wishes though.

“Mhmm, tell us that the next time you kick us out.” Gareth grumbles.

“You don’t…Eddie, never mind, I didn’t realize you were busy.” You manage to choke out.

Dustin whirls towards you when he hears the pain in your voice and realizes you’re sobbing. “Nah Y/N, it’s totally okay, we were pretty much done.” He smiles sympathetically before elbowing Jeff in the ribs.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

“It’s okay Y/N, we really were wrapping it up.” Jeff pats your arm as they leave.

As soon as they’re out the door, Eddie pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “Sweets, what’s wrong? What happened?”

You start to sob again, burying your face in his shoulder. “He chose her. He told me he was moving on and he chose her.”

“Oh fuck. I’m so sorry. Fuck.” Eddie snuggles you closer, stroking your hair. “You deserved better than that fucking prick anyways.”

You sniffle. “Stop, he wasn’t a prick. He told me we’d never be together and I kept on deluding myself into thinking we would somehow.”

“He also told you he was in love with you knowing that you two could never be. He never should have told you. He should have left you alone.”

“Stop, you always blame other people when I’m upset. This was on me. I saw him pulling away and I knew he was trying to move on and I still held on to hope. It just hurts. I was so fucking stupid.”

“Don’t ever say that about yourself again.” Eddie says sternly, brushing tears from your face with his thumb.

“It’s true. Of course he chose her. She’s perfect. She’s skinny and beautiful and uncomplicated and everything I’m not. I knew. I fucking knew he was gonna choose her.”

“Stop it. You are fucking perfect and if he can’t see that, if he can move on like you’re nothing, he’s the fucking stupid one.”

Eddie’s heart is breaking for you. To see you sobbing and hysterical, to see you so fucking broken, it’s almost more than he can take. You were the most amazing person he’d ever known, and he hated the guy for making you doubt that.

“I want him to move on and be happy, he deserves it. But I didn’t know it was gonna hurt this badly. I know it’s selfish but I can’t help but think “What about me? What am I supposed to do?”

“It’s not selfish. You are allowed to feel whatever you feel. Your feelings are valid and fuck anyone that makes you feel otherwise.” Eddie insists, hugging you close again. “I’ve got you, okay? I’m here for you, always.”

“Can we lay down? Please? I’ve cried to the point of exhaustion.” You mumble. All you’d done the entire day was sob and your eyes were so swollen you could barely hold them open.

He pulls you onto the bed with him, shifting onto his back so that you can rest your head on his chest. “Anything you need, sweets. I’m right here.” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head.

“Thank you. I’m really sorry that I interrupted your stuff with your friends.”

“Don’t apologize. You needed me. I’d drop anything if you needed me.” Eddie admits, grateful that you can’t see the blush creeping up his neck.

“You’re so sweet. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You lean up and kiss his cheek. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

He blushes more. “You’ll always have me, Y/N.”

“Your face is red, are you hot?” You start to lean back but he tugs you against him again.

“I’m fine. Stay.” He insists.

You snuggle into his arms, reaching a hand up to twist a lock of his hair around your fingers. Your tears stop after awhile, your sniffles subside. Eddie rocks you in his arms, humming a song soothingly.

“He broke my heart, Eds.” You whisper after a bit. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again.”

“You will. In time you won’t even remember him. Someone will mention his name and you’ll draw a blank. I promise you.” 

“I don’t want to forget him. I just want the pain to stop.”

“It will, baby. Just give it time. And do whatever you need to do to feel better. Your feelings, your mental health, that’s what matters right now and fuck anyone that can’t see that.”

“You’re so insanely loyal, you know that? I could kill someone and you’d say it was their fault for running into my knife.”

“Shouldn’t have been running around sharp objects, totally their fault.” He quips, smoothing your hair as you look up at him. “Seriously, you will find happiness again. You don’t need anyone else to be happy. It comes from you, sweets.”

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” You smile at him and realize it’s the first time you’ve smiled in days.

“There’s that gorgeous grin, I’ve missed that.” He can’t help but run his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitches and your lips part as if they have a mind of their own.

Eddie groans softly, eyes fixated on your mouth. “Sweets…” His tone carries a warning.

You close off the space between the two of you and kiss him. Eddie returns the kiss, caught up in a moment of weakness. He should stop this. You’re not in the right mindset. But he indulges for a few more seconds before pulling away.

“We can’t.” He murmurs. “You need time and I understand that.”

You blush, starting to pull away from him. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

He tugs you back, shaking his head. “No, I’m glad you did. And I want to revisit this, when you’ve gotten over your heartbreak. I don’t want to be a rebound or a way to forget about him. I want to know that it’s real, Y/N, cause it’s real for me.”

“It is for me, too. But I agree, I need some time to process and move on from this.”

“Of course, sweets.”

~~~~~~~~~~

And Eddie does that. He gives you space and time, staying by your side to help you through your heartbreak. He holds your hand, he makes sure you eat and get some sleep, he listens to you cry and vent and scream and do everything you need to do to move on.

And one day someone brings up the guy you lost in conversation. Eddie’s eyes immediately flicker over to you, frowning.

But you’re okay. You barely register his name, your expression doesn’t change. You nod politely when someone tells you he’s engaged now, no trace of sadness or remorse on your face.

And that night, Eddie kisses you again for the first time in months. He cups your face and holds you close and tells you that he’s proud of you, that you’re amazing, and that you’re all his. Because after all, being happy with Eddie is what you deserve.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @cluz1babeabe @aunicornmademedoit @neewtmas @harrystylesandthegoobs @cancankiki @cal-is-not-on-branding @cltopp199999

[mono-dot-jpeg]

comfort from a demon - beelzebub

summary; being a demon was more of a mental struggle than you expected. you can feel your humanity chip away as you continue to live in the past.

genre/extra tags; slight hurt comfort, fluff, cuddling is the form of comfort fr fr, nightbringer! mc, demon! mc, this is just a silly goofy concept, mc can't catch a break, reader is referred to as mc

word count; 641

warnings; mc gets vertigo, describing dizziness in semi detail, identity crisis(?)

[gender neutral mc]

a/n; i love beel sm :((( he's so,,, hhh i lvoev him :( also i did not read a single thing abt what happened in chapter 80 in obey me og, so uh,, call this canon divergence ig, im in my song looping phase rn. kind of losing my mind bc nothing seems to be hittin. anyways, wrote this at like 3-4am. also something abt writing vertigo made me feel it for a min,,, wild. also i swear i wrote more wtf

you haven't been here for long but you can feel yourself molding to this new form. your mentality is a little less human as the day goes by.

it's been very odd knowing that you're a demon now. you can suddenly understand how to summon beings with ease, read curses, read blessings, and it's just a fraction of what this body seemed capable of.

it was stressful. living your life as a human and suddenly having to be something you're not. you're the "attendant" of the brothers but in another timeline, you're their human roommate that they cherish the most.

they're not really mean in this timeline, which is nice but they are slowing succumbing to the respective sins. and they have to deal with finally accepting that they're no longer angels.

and once again you have to play unpaid therapist while you have your own struggles to deal with.

you can feel yourself slipping away. your head in a constant ache as you think about the past the brothers had to deal with, the way you need to come back, the way you need to regain the trust of the brothers, and the way you need to keep this "attendant" persona of yours until there's a way back to the present.

so here you are sitting in the kitchen, elbows resting on the table and your hand pressed on your temples. it's the dead of night, the world is quiet. it's some of the few bits of silence you needed.

your body aches, your breath is heavy while your head rests on the counter. everything feels dizzy. you can't think right.

"mc? are you asleep?" beel's voice rings gently in your ears. he's gentle as his hand rests on your shoulder. "you shouldn't sleep here, it's not very healthy to sleep sitting like that..." his voice is laced with concern, moving your arms to help him get a better look at you.

but you're adamant and very dizzy still. your body jerks, tugging your arm away from his hold. you can't help but cough, you feel like throwing up as if you were too drunk. but nothing comes out thankfully. "are you okay?" he's moving to the other side where your head is facing away from him. he carefully kneels down to face you properly to check if you were going pale. "i don't want to leave you out here if you're not okay."

you take in a breath only to cough, your body shaking. "not..." you try to speak but fail and shake your head gently to answer his question.

"is it okay if i carry you? i'll take care of you." his stomach is growling but he's too focused on you to care. you swallow your choking feeling back and nod softly. beel is more than extremely careful while he guides your arms to wrap around his neck. he doesn't make any sudden movements to worsen your dizziness. "have you been taking care of yourself?" his voice is softer than usual, laced with concern and curiosity. he hasn't been in devildom for long so he's just as lost as you are on demons and how they deal with illnesses.

you don't answer, head still spinning as you rest your head on his shoulder. your silence speaks volumes to him. he doesn't say anything. you eventually reach the shared bedroom of beel and belphie. it felt like forever to get there with how the world felt like it was spinning faster to you. everything felt too fast yet too slow.

"i'm sorry i can't do much." he frowned. he placed you down on the bed, covering you with a blanket. "but i will help you if you need it. i like you when you're caring for yourself and happy, mc." your heart warms at beel's whisper of a declaration.

no matter the timeline, beel seems to care for you all the same.

"thank you."

[vibratingskull]

Hello hello! I have another request if you don’t mind.

Could you do a single dad Thrawn & female!child!reader? headcannons or a story I don’t mind! If you want to do a story an idea could be that maybe reader had a pet snake and the snake passed away and Thrawn if telling them about the life cycle and helping get over her loss?

Or another good idea is that she hurt herself (idk maybe she fell down or something) and he’s conforming her? I’m in a need for some Thrawn comfort rn 😓

Please have a good day!

Aaaaaaaaaw ❤️ Dad Thrawn is best Thrawn. Here you go, soft dad Thrawn comforting you his daughter

I hope you'll feel better soon ❤️

Thrawn & Daughter!reader

Thrawn opens his eyes immediately hearing your sniffs, well awake in a second, he knows something is wrong.

“Visahot? Is something wrong?” He raises on his elbow, his red eyes shining in the dark of the room.

Your red eyes shine less, a testimony of your headspace right now. You sob and rub your eyes full of tears, gasping to breath.

“Its… It’s… Its Cheple… He doesn't move anymore…” You manage to say between gasp.

“I am coming.” 

Thrawn stands on his feet, taking your little hand and walking to your room on the Chimaera. He never gets mad at you for being awake at night, he works on the assumption that you have a good reason even if you’re just reading past your bedtime. He will chastise you gently and sit on the bed to read you a final story then tuck you to bed.

But tonight you don’t seem to want a fairy tale.

He approaches the nest of plaids and clothes in the middle of your room, where Cheple, your pet serpent likes to curl up and sleep.

“I… Hic… I wanted to hug him but he didn’t move at all…” You explain.

He kneels next to the nest, observing silently the corpse of your snake. He delicately takes the head in his palms but Cheple is soft and dangles without reaction.

Poor little creature.

“What’s wrong with him?” You look at your dad with eyes full of hopes.

Dad knows so much, dad can do so much, surely he can help! But he turns to you and shakes his head, holding your hand.

“Visahot, there is nothing else to do.”

“Why? Why doesn’t he move.”

“He is dead, my darling.”

You look at him shocked and mouth agape.

“He…? No! No, you’re lying!” You burst into tears.

Thrawn pulls you into a hug, holding you tight against his beating heart. You cry like you nver cried. Cheple was your oldest friend with your dad, you know no other kids on this planet but found Cheple as an egg years ago. Your little heart immediately melted for the abandoned egg, all alone in the nest and you took it back to the Chimaera, proudly showing him off to your dad. He helped you built a nest under a heating lamp and one day, the eggshell cracked and you witnessed Cheple first shy steps into the world.

You were inseparable, attached by the hips you run all over the Chimaera with Cheple circling your shoulders.

But tonight…

“I am so sorry, my darling.” Thrawn tries to soothe you, caressing your head and back.

“So that means I will never see him again?!” You cry.

“No my darling, you will not.” He admits gently.

“But I don’t wanna! I want him! Why can’t you do something?!”

“Visahot.” He parts from you, holding your shoulders in his large hands, “There are some things we cannot change, whatever we try or no matter our effort. I would do something if I could ease your pain, but life and death are beyond anyone’s power.”

“But…But…” You sob uncontrollably.

“He left because it was his time. We both knew he was getting old, we saw the signs. What matters is the love you gave him all his life.” He tilts your head delicately. “He is in a better place now.”

“My bedroom wasn’t good enough for him?” You let your tears flow.

“It was more than enough. He always liked to curl up and hide in this room specifically because he felt safe here. You built him a great nest that he appropriated for himself and tonight he chose to die where he felt the safest, in your bedroom, next to you.”

“Why…?”

“Because you signified safety and warmth for him. He was so small he could have been devoured by anything, but you were always here to protect him from anything and he untrusted you for his final moments.”

“But I don’t want him to go away…”

“We cannot control that, my darling. Sometimes death comes at your door to rob you of your loved ones, tonight she came for Cheple while he was peacefully asleep. He left while dreaming, without any pain or worry because he was at ease with you, he felt loved and protected with you.”

You sniff, wiping your tears off your cheek.

“You remember when he felt ill for the first time?” Thrawn  continues, “You dedicated all of your time to take care of him and for the first time he came to sleep with you in your bed. He saw you as his savior and benefactor.” He brushes your cheek with his thumb, “You gave him a life filled with adventure and love, and you can be sure the memories he brought with him are filled with your smiles.”

“But why tonight? Coudldn’t he have waited again a little?”

“No, my darling. He was an old snake you know, and that is the best thing that could have happened to him : getting old at your side.”

“So he didn’t leave because he didn’t love me anymore?”

“No, quite the contrary. He came to the person he was the closest to live his final moment because you comfort him and give him so much love.”

“It hurts, dad…” you lower your head.

“I know, Visahot, I know.” He presses your foreheads together, “But it is part of life, the best we can do is enjoy the ones we love to the fullest while they are here. Do you understand?” He asks softly.

“... Yes.”

“That’s my girl.” He kisses your forehead with so much love, “Are you alright?”

“No, my heart hurt really bad.” You complain.”And my stomach feels empty.”

“It is perfectly normal. It is because you loved him so much, it will hurt for some time but one day you will be able to think back fondly about him and only feel your love for him filling your heart.” 

“For how long?”

“For one month or maybe one year. It depends on the heart.”

“I am sad, dad.”

“Of course you are, my darling. And I am sad for you. Do you want to sleep with me tonight? We will bury him properly tomorrow morning.”

You tiredly nod and snuggle against your dad, burying your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his comforting scent. He lifts you up and carries you back to his bedroom where he lays you down gently, sliding next to you and holds you close.

You keep crying for a moment until you fall asleep, exhausted. Thrawn didn’t stop cradling you against his heart, holding you as close as possible.

His dear little girl… He will arm you to fight life, to win everytime, but tonight, only time can help such a wound. So he keeps you close, giving you his full support and love, ready to face the harsh reality together tomorrow. But tonight, you’ll sleep soundly in his arms.

In security.

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037

☆Tag list

[brotherwtf]

Ooh like a sweet hurt/comfort one but

Bucky having trouble in winter with the bed sharing to stay warm, because he keeps on waking up thinking that he is back on the cart with the bodies. So he will check Bucks pulse, to centre himself and make sure everyone’s alive. Buck realising this and it won’t be until after the war, but Buck being able to centre Bucky with touch and like hand holding and shit.

Like just sweet and shit

Love your work! ❤️❤️

UGHHH need some hurt/comfort in my life rn, this is perfect thank you

----

The first time it happens, Gale jolts awake and almost starts swinging, covering his neck and breathing heavily as he scrambles up the bed. John shushes him, tells him it's gonna be okay, and coaxes him to go back to bed. Gale raises his eyebrow, confused, but eventually goes back to bed.

The next couple of times Gale realizes it's John touching his neck, something light and barely there, but Gale is comforted with the knowledge that it's John touching his neck and not some Nazi coming to kill him.

Gale only realizes it's John taking his pulse when he hears him count under his breath, in tandem with the steady beats of Gale's heart. He turns over before John can pull his hand away and grabs it, pulling it in towards his lips so he can kiss it.

"Playing doctor on me, Bucky?" Gale tries to joke and smiles when John chuckles breathily.

"Just making sure you're still with me, Buck," John says and that sounds the alarm in Gale's head.

He props himself up on his elbow, running a thumb over John's knuckles and holding it on his chest.

"Of course, John, I'm still with you. Gotta check my pulse to know that?" Gale asks and John sighs.

"I woke up on a cart full of dead pilots. One fucker was still alive though, praying like there weren't two bastards who wanted us dead. I couldn't stand the weight of a dead person on me, and I hate the thought of waking up surrounded by the dead again. Just gives me peace of mind, is all," John admits, and Gale wants to cry.

He hoists himself up onto his knees, taking John by the shoulders and forcing him to lay back until his head rests on Gale's chest. He runs a thumb up John's shoulder, holding one of his hands against his chest.

"That's fucking horrible, I'm sorry John," Gale says.

John only shakes his head, shrugs, but doesn't pull away from Gale.

"It helps when I know you're alive. Feeling you breathe, feeling your pulse. It helps," John mutters and Gale nods.

"Well I ain't going nowhere, John. Check my pulse all you like but I'm gonna stay by your side as long as I can," He mutters, pulling John into a closer embrace.

John hums, tucking himself so he can wrap his arms around Gale's waist, and promptly falls asleep in Gale's arms.

[corrodedcoughin]

HELLO SPONTANEOUS PART 2 TO MANLY STEVE (inspired by the fact my dad is working on one of his classic cars rn)

One day once Steve and Eddie are dating, Steve buys himself a real junker of a car, from the 50s, barely working, missing wheels, broken down, and they keep it parked behind the Munson's new trailer.

And Steve is determined to fix it up. Rebuild the body, fix the engine, redo the interior. Really get his hands on it, fix it, make it his.

His father liked cars, but only if they were new, expensive, and he didn't have to touch the engine. He'd brag about horsepower, and top speed, but fixing it and changing the oil was blue collar work and "below him". Steve likes getting hands on, physical work, finding a problem and working around it.

So he spends hours tinkering with it, finding new parts, and Eddie and Wayne join him. Eddie taking all the knowledge his father gave him of hotwiring and stripping cars for parts and using it productively. Making it a happy memory. So of course Wayne is there. Getting as involved as he can when Eddie keeps reminding him to take it easy, dont get hurt, they can share the work. (Wayne's car knowledge is a big help)

I just!!!!! Them forming this new loving family unit and working to create something together

Momo I’m so sorry I’m so late getting back to you!!

I LOVE your ideas, as always.

What about Steve, Eddie and Wayne going off in Eddie’s van to scope out scrap yards/used parts. They make a day off it every month or second month, touring round their usual spots. Eddie elbow deep in a pile of parts when he he hears Wayne’s slow and steady drawl that cuts through the noise of the yard

‘Boys, think I found somethin’

Eddie sidles up, looking over Wayne’s shoulder when Steve approaches from the opposite side. Wayne just raises an eyebrows and points with his cigarette to an old piece of kit that’s seen better days but by Steve’s reaction you’d think he’d just been handed seventeen babies, a station wagon and a family home to house them all.

It’s the piece Steve had been looking for for god knows how long. Only thing is, it’s more expensive than it has any right to be. They only find this out after Steve takes it up to the owner to ask thr price. His face falls, dreams of finishing their project car dashed. He tries not to let it show, just gives a tight lipped smile and walks away, hands in pockets.

Both Eddie and Wayne catch each others eyes, theirs heads come together, seeing if there’s a solution. They know they can’t afford it themselves, no chance, they are just managing bills and food as it is, disposable income a rarity. Eddie has an idea though, he asks Steve to let him and wayne contribute towards the cost, knowing that between the three of them and some sweet talking to the yard owner into a payment plan (Wayne has some long running connections that he’s not shy of exploiting when it comes to his boys). It’s not easy, Steve outright refuses at first, saying that he could never take that from Eddie and Wayne, that they don’t need to pander to him. There’s sle loud ones, some angry ones too.

But it’s Wayne’s stern eye and explanation that ‘Steve, son, we’ve put some hours into this thing too. Don’t you think we want to see it done?’

They all know wayne is just giving Steve an out but they don’t mention it, don’t even vaguely acknowledge it. When Steve is sitting in the back of Eddie’s van, bright smile on his face as he cradled the hunk of metal in his arms he’s so grateful he thinks his heart might burst. He doesn’t catch it, too busy staring at the cold object in his lap but Eddie and Wayne share a look, one of pride. They can’t give much, not like what Steve is used to, but what they can give means so much more and that’s evident on Steve’s face.