Started some time ago as a warm up speedpaint and in between work, family and other rl things I slowly managed to make an actual full illustration out of it.
Fanart of Nidhogg from Final Fantasy XIV as I really like the unusual design the important dragon characters got. Also I really needed something new for 2017 to finally finish, this year so far started very bad, with lot of delays and pretty heavy sickness. Hopefully can catch up now with everything and til then enjoy \o/
Make me do your work everyday and cause cats to get sick? I'll catch you in your lies and get you fired.
This woman who I’ll call Tootles worked with me at an animal shelter as cat caretakers. We work opposite days and the first thing that she did to piss me off was telling me she had cleaned under furniture/restocked/refilled cleaning bottles. She sneakily just made it clean enough that you couldn’t tell she was barely doing anything all day. It would take me at least 30 min to an hour everyday to clean all the stuff that she hadn’t done the day before, and I had to do that in addition to my already extremely busy job. So some days I’d have to stay late, and I have two jobs so I’m always exhausted, and then I have a 45 min drive home where I’m blasting music and chain smoking just to stay awake.
I tried to tell my boss about this but she said that I need to have a better attitude, and that I was complaining too much about Tootles. She only told me this bc she’s a jerk most of the time and she didn’t want to deal with all the hassle of finding a new employee in a rural area.
Basically, when you have 20 cats housed in multiple rooms, it becomes a breeding ground for disease and infections. The point of cleaning every single surface and under the furniture with chemicals is to kill these germs and what not. After I started working there she got lazier and never did a single thing that she thought wouldn’t be noticed since my boss had no problem with what she was doing to me.
Because she wasn’t cleaning according to procedure, we now have almost every single cat (except the older ones with strong immune systems) come down with an upper respiratory tract infection. We have to now take those sick cats and quarantine them. For each cat, we have to now put on a gown, booties, gloves, and a mask if we are even going to touch them. These are all single use, extremely wasteful, and very expensive, but required by law. We also have to give them meds two or more times a day for the uri. This takes even more time(3x the amount of time I’d need to take care of a healthy cat. I knew immediately that the outbreak was her fault for not cleaning and the boss was very angry at the whole situation, wondering why this is happening. So before I leave I take tiny cat toys and hide them under every single thing shes supposed to clean under. I then make tiny marks with sharpie on all the kennels she has to scrub( we use a chemical that would dissolve the sharpie, and then rinse out and dry the cage so the cats paws aren’t affected.) I also put tiny marks on the bleach bottles showing how much was in them so I’ll also have proof she’s not cleaning the toilets. I come to work the day after hers and surprise surprise the same amount of bleach, sharpie marks still on kennels, all the toys still where I left them. So I tell my boss what I’ve done, I was nervous she would say I was kinda psycho but she said I should have done this sooner and yelled at me a bit(I told you this was happening already.). We sign a log required by law and we have to initial that we completed every single thing so boss just calls her up, asks if she’s actually done these things, which if she just admitted to being lazy she could have just been yelled at and kept her job. She lies and says she always follows procedures so boom she’s fired for lying about doing her work. It’s been like 3 months, she’s still out of a job I think, and the outbreak of disease amongst the cat has completely cleared up. She apparently really loved her job based on her fb so idk why she’d be so lazy and cause the cats suffering like that.
JB: If you get sick/catch a cold I’m going to get mad. (Note: before this JB said to dress warmly) Mark: Jaebeom has something to say! If they catch a cold what are you going to do? JB: If (you) catch the cold I’m going to get mad. Jackson *from a distance*: shimkoong!
Connie had been best friends with her twin sister Jessica since before she could remember, but never spent as much time with Jessica as she would have liked.
Connie didn’t understand why her sister was always being sent to the doctor. She didn’t seem sick, and doctors were for sick people.
Once she learned about germs, Connie had tried to catch Jessica’s sickness, so they could be together at the doctor. It didn’t work.
Connie had always felt protective of her sick twin, almost like a big sister.
So Connie never complained when Jessica got all the best toys. She tried hard not to be jealous of the attention Jessica received from their parents, who were so busy they barely had time for Connie. But Connie knew that they were important scientists who did important work.
Connie even kept her resentment in check when Jessica was sent to private-school.
It didn’t matter; she had friends at her public-school, and every evening she would be able to play with her twin.
Though their parents were furious, Connie was delighted when Jessica ignored her acceptance to a prestigious university so they could attend the same college.
When their parents died in a tragic car accident, Connie and Jessica moved into their family’s old house. With eachother’s support, they mourned their loss and re-entered the world. They graduated and found jobs; they dated men. They remained best friends.
On their 30th-birthday, the twins’ gifts to eachother had been plane tickets to Paris.
Applying for a passport, Connie requested her birth-certificate from the department of records and received a shock: the certificate listed no father, and a stranger’s name where her mother’s should have been. Worse, the certificate recorded only a single birth.
Connie knew it was a mistake. She called the records office and the hospital, but they denied any impropriety.
Connie felt uneasy. But, it was crazy; they looked exactly alike!
One night, Connie surreptitiously swabbed the rim of Jessica’s water glass. She paid the DNA-lab for rush analysis. The results showed their DNA matched: identical twins.
Connie was relieved, but deeply confused. The records had to be wrong. She would prove it: she would find her real birth-certificate.
Connie took the day off work. She spent hours going through her parents’ box-filled attic, finally locating a section devoted to family papers. It seemed that they kept every drawing, every piece of homework, and every report-card from the girls’ schooling. It was touching, but Connie kept digging. Eventually, she found a small fireproof lockbox.
She pried it open with a screwdriver.
Inside were some old papers and a Polaroid. Connie sifted through the papers, triumphantly locating the birth-certificate.
Her heart sunk.
It matched the one from the department of records.
Jessica’s was there too: their parents’ names printed in the appropriate fields, a single birth.
Tearfully, Connie looked at the Polaroid. They were newborns, both sleeping. She flipped it over and noticed an inscription in faded ink: “Jessica and control, 1986”
Crystal Messenger - Mystic Messenger Fantasy AU. You’re one of the most respected knights in King Han’s kingdom until a horrible incident leaves you with a missing eye, a dead best friend, and a curse on your body that grants you tremendous power while driving you steadily insane. Desperate, distressed, and feeling like a worthless failure, you embark on a suicidal mission of unrestrained heroism, leaving your life behind as you try to make something of yourself before you die.
✿ Custom MCs (their names link to the tags, which contain art of them!)
Sidhe- A shy girl yet brutally optimistic girl with severe burn scarring who believes she was saved from death by a magical cat spirit. She also believes this is the source of her horrible-yet-amazing luck and her impressive strength.
Vega - A former hitman who ends up falling in with the RFA and having their life changed (ostensibly) for the better. They smoke, they drink, they lowkey constantly want to die, and they’re terrible at dealing with their feelings.
“FOOTBALL GAME? IS that the one where they hit the big, orange ball with the bat?” Your boyfriend is a mass of sharp angles and jutting bones atop your floral-patterned bedding. From the outsider’s vantage, one would say he emanates an air of discomfort—beanie still crowning his head, ragged leather jacket blanketing his shoulders, even his feet remain tucked inside his worn boots—but, to your knowledge, this is his highest state of relaxation. Iron rods have materialized from a decade and a half of misery, guarding his gelid heart, and shielding him from curious outsiders. He says there’s something special about you; you think that’s how you managed to slip through the gates.
“You’re cute.” The reflection of a boy in your vanity mirror winks. Involuntarily do your lips ascend into a pillowy crescent. “But seriously, it’s not my scene.” And then aforementioned lips descend.
Steely optics seek out his tangible form, goading you into pivoting on the balls of your feet. “What does that mean?”
His brows graze his hairline in a terse, first meeting. “It’s not my scene? It’s not my thing? I don’t do school events?” The questionable lilt that punctuates every last statement plucks on your frangible nerves. Of course Jughead doesn’t like school events, one glimpse of him is all the confirmation necessary, but he does like you, and you like school events—a message you attempt to convey with your facial ticks.
He isn’t comprehending.
“O-kay? And I don’t do Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys, but do I not sit with you at Pop’s every night, going through evidence I don’t give a damn about to help you write your novel?” Baby pink nails cut into a curling palm, and—
—Oh, he’s getting it now.
Jughead tucks pallid digits underneath his cap, massaging the skin usually hidden underneath. “That’s different, Y/N.”
“How so?” you persist.
“Uh, I dunno, ‘cause my shit actually has a purpose?”
It’s not raining, but the cold seeps into your uniform and laces through your bones.
“As opposed to cheerleading, right? That’s what you’re trying to say? The River Vixens’ only purpose is to raise tents in pants?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call that a purpose since it’s a considerably easy feat,” he murmurs through clenched teeth and stiffened jaw. Your spine straightens—an aftershock of, well, shock. You’d find it comedic how his gaze enlarges, his sardonic bite and exactly who was being subjected to it dawning on his cognition, if anger wasn’t coiling around the mass of your stomach. Jughead displays both palms in a bid of surrender. “That came out wrong.”
“There’s a right way for something like that to come out?”
Now, you lift a hand. Your boyfriend’s focal point snags on the half-moon indents that desecrate your palm. “No. No.” The wear and tear of six months spent with a boy who isn’t as immersed in your interests as you his finally laps over you. He can’t attend one game, not one for you. “I’m good at cheer. I’m really good.”
The raven-locked boy lopes long legs over the edge of the bed, sitting from his previous lackadaisical position. “I know that.”
“How could you? From mandatory pep rallies? You bring your laptop to those, Jughead.”
He doesn’t disregard this fact, opting to offer a soft “I stop typing when you perform.” He thinks it’s a compromise; you think it’s a cop out.
You swing (literally, swing) into action and your bedroom’s threshold is the end-goal. Jughead tosses himself off the mattress, thrusting himself in front of your mobile form and nearly skittering into the doorframe. Dexterous digits curl around your shoulders, though you think the gesture’s done more for his balance than to immobilize you.
“I’m shit with words,” he begins.
“No, you’re great with words.” Thin lips quirk, and you wish he wasn’t so damn cute. “You’re just a shit boyfriend.” You utilize the loosening of his grip to your advantage, shrugging his hands and his touch and him away from you. “Look, I don’t wanna look like a fool anymore than you do. So here’s your chance, Jug, tell me. Tell me you’re not interested in me anymore. Tell me the reason why I’m giving you my all and you’re giving me half is because you’re sick of me. Tell me, Jughead. Be honest with yourself, be honest with me!”
A beat of silence.
And then two.
“Not interested in you anymore?” he half-echoes, half-sputters. Incredulity paints his sharp features. From knitted brows above cerulean irises down to slightly agape pink pout, Jughead’s disbelief is like a grass stain on white shorts. Unbelievably stubborn and not going anywhere. “Y/N, I am so interested in you it’s sickening. Literally. You make my stomach hurt.” (You hate that a chuckle rumbles from your chest. Jughead grins.) “Honestly, I thought you were into the whole Jason Blossom mystery thing. You love Criminal Minds.”
“It’s not scary when it’s on TV.”
He visibly softens at this, back winding into its comfortable slouch. “No, it’s not. And I’m sorry I never asked you how you felt.”
“So you’re not sick of me?”
Your gaze follows the swing of his head. “I am the farthest thing from sick of you. You make me sick” —Jughead catches your hand before it could make playful contact with his shoulder “—but I’m not sick of you, no.” He swipes his thumb across the skin pulled taunt against your knuckles. “If anything, I’m a little in love with you.”
This confession, subtle but heavy, sinks its claws into your disposition, altering your expression sans consent. You aren’t aware you’re wearing your perturbation as well as you are your uniform until Jughead says:
“Gee, baby, I hope that’s your ‘I love you, too’ face.”
So he did say the l-word.
“No. No, of course, I just–I never thought you would say it first. Is that–? That’s the first time you’ve said I love you.”
“Yeah, and it doesn’t mean shit unless I start showing you. So from now on whatever you’re into, I’m into. You like cheer, I like cheer. You like watching bad Netflix movies at 2 in the morning, so do I. You like Reggie Mantle, I–well, I don’t have to like everything you like, do I?” The tip of his nose crinkles in jocular distaste. Your own laugh of euphoria rings in your ears.
Prompt idea! Betty's sick and Jughead dotes on her like the good boyfriend he is (e.g skips school to take care of her, runs around town picking up comfort foods and watching rom-coms because Betty likes them, and other *omgthey'resocute* stuff). At the end Jughead leans in to kiss her, Betty leans away 'cause he doesn't want him to get sick, but he kisses her anyway 'cause kissing her is worth more than getting sick
I imagine jughead being the adorably protective boyfriend!
As beautiful as Betty Cooper was, she was about ten times as stubborn.
It wasn’t always a bad thing , her stubbornness had gotten him out of a lot sticky situations, and her inability to back down was one his favorite traits
But this was not the time to be stubborn.
Standing in her doorway glaring at him was his incredibly adorable, sick girlfriend.
“What are you doing here juggie, shouldn’t you be in Chem class right now?”
It was hard to take her grumpy glare too seriously when she sounded like a stuffed up chipmunk.
He gently pushed her back and led her to the couch.
“Well, schools kind of a drag when the only person worth going for isn’t there.” He shrugged
Betty’s eyes softened before she shook her head
“No, juggie I’m fine, it’s a cold, I’m not gonna let you miss school because I have a cold.” She shivered involuntarily
Jughead was immediately on his feet digging in her spare closet for the thick wool blanket he knew the coopers kept in there.
Carrying it back to the couch he placed it over his girlfriend and tucked her in gently.
“Bets, I wanna be here, with you, you’re sick you shouldn’t be alone.. and why aren’t you wearing socks? You’re just gonna make yourself more sick, don’t move.” He ordered, running up the stairs to retrieve her fluffy socks.
She sunk back into the couch smiling at her amazing, considerate, all around perfect boyfriend.
Who would have thought jughead jones would be running around getting socks for a girl.
As he came back down the stairs, he ran into the kitchen for a second before coming out empty handed causing her to raise a brow.
“I was just checking for something” he said handing her the socks which she happily placed on her feet. She was cold.
“You should sleep. You have to get rest or you won’t get better at all, think of how much school I’ll miss.” He smirked at her
She rolled her eyes, before reaching her arms out for him.
“Sleep here with me just for a little.”
She said in a tiny voice.
It was not humanly possible to say no to those puppy dog eyes and pouty lips.
He laid with her until he heard her breathing even out before slowly sliding out from under the covers and heading to the store.
On the way to the store he mentally catalogued everything he would need to make his girlfriend feel better.
It was weird caring about someone like this.
He had no one before Betty.
His mom was gone, jelly bean was gone, and his dad… well his dad was definitely not in the picture.
But Betty she gave him someone to care about, someone who cared about him.
She had gotten him a job at her moms paper,
She was helping him fix his relationship with Archie, while introducing him to new friends.
And she was the biggest support system he had ever had.
It was different, good different.
So that’s why he was currently on his way back to the beautiful blondes house with an armful of groceries and a smile on his face.
Opening the door with the spare key they kept under the gnome, he tiptoed to the kitchen noticing Betty still asleep on the couch.
As he put together the soup for her he pulled the chocolate milk out of the bag and poured two glasses.
He heard a sleepy voice behind him.
“Is that chocolate milk?” Betty was leaning against the door wrapped up in the huge quilt, smiling drowsily.
“Yep, and you can have it as long as you eat your soup” he smiled faux sternly.
“Alright dad.” Betty laughed
As jughead put the glasses down he moved towards Betty wrapping his arms around her waste
“Ooh, daddy? A new nickname? I like it” he grinned evilly
“Ew juggie that’s gross” she giggled smacking his arm.
He laughed attempting to move away from her before he felt the skinny arms wrap around his waist, the blanket falling to the ground.
“ I love you jughead.”
He felt his heart ache as he looked down at the love of his life.
“I love you too Bets ” he tilted his head down for a kiss before she wiggled away.
“Jughead! I’m sick you’re gonna catch it”
He caught her around the waist again, quickly putting his lips to hers.
Hello, yes I am back! I
decided to combine a couple of requests into one because they fit :)
where y/n gets sick and shawn catches it? One
where he gets sick and denies it?
Before you even open your eyes, you already feel the pain in your throat. You’re barely even fully awake, but your heart already drops. You can’t be sick right now. Well, actually, you can, but you’re traveling with your boyfriend for the week and you don’t want him to get sick because he has a lot of commitments. You’re afraid that Shawn will catch your sickness because he’s going to want to be near you even though you’ll try your best to keep him from being too close.
Loki pampering you and cuddling with you when you get sick, claiming he cannot catch a weak mortal illness such as the flu. A week after you recover, he finds himself sick with the flu as well, but refuses your help because he knows you will tell him you told him so, and he knows that you are right.