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hexidous · 1 year ago

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Pretty As You Feel

Part II to Silk and Sweat. I highly recommend reading part I for context.

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Summary: You find yourself back at the club Joel manages and try your best to seem unafflicted. As hard as you try, you may end up playing it a little too cool.

Warnings: Depictions of stripping, general adult content, oral sex, fingering, spitting, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, the holy trifecta, praise Joelsus

Word count: 4.4k

Slowly sinking down into the epsom salt bath you drew, you feel your tense muscles begin to relax in the hot water.

You imagine Joel behind you, enveloped in his strong embrace. His touch lingered on your skin, your nerves still whirring from his strong hands.

Enough, you think.

You had a rough night and he helped you get through it. Nothing more.

Unfortunately, you were used to men feeling entitled to your body because you chose to put it on display. They pay for a show and get angry when they want more.

When you were young and new to the life, you developed your own mantra to cope with the way you were treated.

What happens to Starla doesn’t happen to you.

You repeat it over and over, distancing yourself from the woman you pretend to be.

It works when it’s a random, rowdy customer causing you to question whether or not the money is worth the shit you put up with. It doesn’t work with Joel.

The way his face contorted into disgust and rage as he pulled that pathetic man off you flashes behind your eyes as you try to relax. How he beat a man bloody for you with ease, seeming to be holding back still.

You think of his face donning a similarly intense look, possibly indecipherable out of context, as he slammed his thick fingers into your desperate cunt.

Joel was a man no little mantra could force out of your head.

You mindlessly worked on whatever jobs came in, the days coming and going in a dull blur. A week went by and you had only petty design jobs coming in, alongside the occasional copywriting gig you’d pick up eagerly.

It wasn’t enough to pay the bills.

You trudged through five thousand words about cooling units and designed a logo for a shitty tech start up before calling it a day. Well, your day called itself because you didn’t have any more work to do.

“You got any rent money this month?” You ask the bemused cat laying on your desk, stopping mid lick of her belly to stare at you. “No? Shocking.”

You scratch behind her little ear before getting up from your chair. “I guess only one pussy is bringing home some money tonight.”

You start to put a bag together, rifling through folded dresses.

Which one would Joel like the most? You find yourself asking.

He strikes you as a man who likes a tasteful woman, not one eagerly putting everything on display. Obviously you didn’t have any modest dresses to wear, but you opted to toss in a few of the less skimpy ones.

Trying to breathe through your nerves, you watch as the bright red sign comes into your view. You park off to the side and grab your bag, clutching the strap tightly.

Play it cool, you warn yourself.

You greet the host at the front desk as you walk past her. You arrive a little later this time, the club already bustling with movement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got superstar Starla in the house tonight,” Tommy teases in his sultry club DJ affectation.

Joel’s head snaps up from the clipboard he’s holding. You smile and shake your head at him with a roll of your eyes, conveying your disbelief over Tommy’s silliness.

“Glad you decided to come back,” he tells you as you pass by his preferred spot on the floor, tucked away between the bottle service section and private dance room.

“My bank account didn’t give me much of a choice,” you half joke with a shrug before heading to the dressing room.

You don’t feel the need to find an isolated section this time. You take a seat at one of the many chairs lined up facing the stretch of illuminated mirrors. A couple other girls are seated along the row and a few flitter behind you, going to their lockers or on and off stage.

You slip your clothes off, folding them neatly and setting them on the counter.

The dress you decided on for the evening was short and black with long sleeves. The top came down to just low enough to tease at your cleavage. The dress was tighter on you than it used to be, but it hugged your curves nicely. There wasn’t room for a bra beneath it, but the back of it looked much better without one. It was a thick lace pattern, tightly woven flowers and loops dancing down your back, coming to a V-shape at the lowest point of your back. You strapped on some matching black shoes, grabbed your wristlet, and stashed everything else away in your locker.

You make your way through the narrow dressing room and walk up a few stairs leading to the hallway behind the stage, ending with the DJ booth.

“Ready for my spotlight,” you tell Tommy, poking your head into his booth.

“Here’s my superstar!” He bellows happily. “The night can finally begin.”

“Do I have to pay you up front to not torment me?” You joke.

“That was just a little first day hazin’,” he assures with a sly grin.

You turn from his booth and walk back down the dimly lit hallway, toward the pulsing red light of the club.

You exit just beside the stage, taking a good look at the dancer occupying it. She’s naturally brunette with blonde bangs and chunky highlights. Her face dons multiple piercings, one at the center of her bottom lip, a stud on her high cheekbone, settling like a sparkly little tear, and many in her ears. Her tattoos were all black and ornate, slithering across her body, perfect with her fluid, sensual movements.

You take your eyes away and head to the bar, turning slightly to continue to watch the dancer on stage.

Tommy’s voice dwarfs the song playing as it reaches an end. “Give it up for the fine, the feral, the absolutely fierce Fiona!” He bellows enthusiastically. “Now don’t be too scared gentlemen, she don’t bite… much.”

You’re ready for your first drink so you wave to the first man you see walk through the club like an old friend.

“I feel like it would be hard to forget a face so beautiful,” he says, putting a hand on the back of your chair. “But I’m terribly sorry to say I don’t remember you.”

“Oh you don’t know me,” you admit, pretending to look bashful. “But I’m new here and wanted someone to talk to.”

“Well I am honored you chose me,” he says politely before holding out his hand. “David.”

“Starla,” you tell him, shaking his hand softly.

“Oh come on, honey, I know your name ain’t Starla.”

“Look where you are, David,” you poke. “What did you expect? For me to say, ‘Hi, I’m Annie Mae, just a simple girl lookin’ for a husband.”

“Shit, you got me there,” he says after a beat, holding his hands up and feigning surrender. “So, you want a drink, Annie Mae?”

“Why, I’d love one.”

You don’t rush things with David, you know you’re not far off in rotation and it would be nice to have someone stage side for you.

Sure enough, you hear Tommy call you up for the next song as he transitions the music.

“Come see me up there?” You ask as you finish your drink and grab your small sequined clutch.

“Of course, darlin’,” he promises with a smile.

You take long strides to the DJ booth,

“Hey,” you say, getting Tommy’s attention. He turns to you but you cut him off before he can deliver whatever cheesy line he’s churning. “I know it’s not typical strip club music, but can you play Jefferson Airplane’s Somebody to Love?”

“Oh, my brother will love you for that,” he tells you. You cock your head, wondering if his brother was in the crowd, maybe David, but don’t think much of it as he starts to call you up.

“Alright gentlemen, get ready for the sensational, sensual, downright sinful… Starla!”

You take your cue and fling the curtain back dramatically as soon as the song begins.

You know the song well, adjusting your movements from soft and flowing to harsh and abrupt as the melody changes.

You climb the pole deftly before snaking around it and then finally dropping down down into a split on the floor.

Your eyes, I say, your eyes may look like his

You swing your leg around to face the small crowd and bend your knee slightly. You’ve got one hand gripping the pole beside you for leverage as you arch your back and lift your ass, rolling your pelvis slowly. David’s eyes are locked on you. Your gaze moves to the left, unable to help yourself.

Joel’s eyes are locked on you too.

You don’t break your stare until you see David making his way toward you. He sits beside he stage and you crawl toward him, flipping your hair dramatically before rising to your knees, playfully toying with your breasts. You shimmy your hips and bounce up and down like you’re riding an invisible ecock. He slips a twenty in the waistband of your thong as you hold it out. You snap it back and give him a wink.

You casually turn your head toward Joel and find him still staring. Your heart rate picks up, despite already thumping hard from your dancing. He had never watched you so brazenly.

You finish your song and thank David. You try to focus on steady breathing, fluid movements, and not looking back at Joel.

A few more men come up to tip you, though not quite as generously, until finally your set ends.

“I told you he’d like it,” Tommy jeers from his booth. You walk toward him, quickly throwing your dress back on and adjusting your suffocating tits.

“Who?” You finally get to ask. “David?”

“No,” he scoffs. “Joel. Didn’t know he was my brother?”

“Huh. I guess not,” you say in a flat voice, trying not to give hint to any emotion.

“Well you did the song justice. He doesn’t usually watch the girls on stage.”

You try not to blush or seem like you care at all, giving a quick, “Hmm.”

“Probably just zoning out, thinking about getting high in the basement while our parents were at work. I’d hear that shit blasting all the time,” he says with a laugh.

Your stomach drops. Maybe he hasn’t been staring at all, just lost in thought. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

“I used to barge in, asking him why his room smelled so bad," Tommy laughs. "He'd get so mad, moodier than any teen girl."

You smile at the thought of Joel as an angsty teen. "Well I better get back. Think I got something real special with Dave out there."

"Get 'em, superstar," he calls out as you walk away.

You get a few dances out of David. He tries to get your number or buy you another drink, but you decline.

When you emerge from the private dance room, you're not really sure where to land next. It's slim pickings with most of the men already occupied.

You hear your stage name called by one of the girls sitting at a table of dancers. You walk over and sit down at an empty seat.

“It is Starla, right?” A pretty brunette asks. You nod in response. “I’m Tiffany.”

You exchange pleasantries with the women. You’d known almost all of their names already, it was easy when you heard Tommy announcing them every 10 minutes. But it was nice getting to know them, feeling like less of an outsider.

You chatted casually with the group, tipping them off to the still seated man you had just danced with.

“He just wants to think he has a chance in hell,” you scoff. “Easy money.”

One of the girls, a petite woman named Amber, stands up from her seat and makes her way over to him.

“God damn Joel looks sexy tonight,” Tiffany huffs from across the table, her eyes settling just over your shoulder. “He doesn’t even have to fuck me. Just spit on me. Anything.”

Tiffany notices your silence among the other girls agreement and calls you out.

“You seriously don’t think so?” She asks incredulously.

“I mean, he’s alright,” you lie.

“Right, you’re into Tommy,” she prods teasingly.

“No I’m not,” you scoff.

“He’s fun, but he’s easy,” Tiffany laments. “Joel is a challenge and fuck if I don’t love a good challenge.”

You try to quell the jealousy that begins to brew in your gut.

“Tommy will fuck anyone and Fiona will fight anyone,” another girl says with a laugh.

“They’re fucking but not exclusive,” Tiffany explains. “Doesn’t stop Fiona from losing her shit though.”

“Remember when Valerie blew him in the DJ booth? Bitch went full Monday Night RAW,” a tan, dark haired woman called Raven recounts, evoking laughter from the small group.

“You might want to keep it on the low, Starla,” Tiffany warns. “Fiona’s already caught whiff of you two.”

“Hand to god, nothin’ to smell,” you swear. You weren’t eager for Fiona to hate you but you were comfortable knowing no one had any idea of your infatuation for Joel.

“He’s got a nice dick,” Raven says with a shrug, a couple girls nodding in agreement.

“Before Mary Jane left she told me that Tommy is big but Joel is huge,” Tiffany admits. “Lucky bitch.”

Your cheeks run hot again as you picture Joel’s intimidatingly large bulge inches from your face. You also can’t help but angrily think who the fuck is Mary Jane?

“Well this has been informative, thank you ladies,” you tell the group as you rise from your seat. “But I better go find someone who’ll help my poor landlord pay off his Ferrari.”

The night is winding down to a late end. You hear Tommy play Closing Time as he tells the customers they don’t have to go home but they can’t stay here. It seems very on brand.

“Starla,” you hear Joel’s deep voice call to you. Your pulse quickens and skin becomes tingly from the mere sound of your stage name on his tongue. He continues once you step closer, “I must have tossed your paperwork by accident. Can you hang back for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure,” you tell him, unsure why it couldn’t wait another day. Not that you mind.

You’re slow to get everything together, taking your time organizing your bills and bag. It may just be missing paperwork, but you wanted the club to be empty on the off chance something more may happen. You give it another minute after the last girl leaves the dressing room before making your way to Joel’s office.

You knock lightly on the open door to announce your presence. He turns around and stares at you with an intense look written across his handsome face.

“You wanna suck my cock?” He asks, his demeanor taking a 180 since he last spoke to you.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah,” you reply, stunned. “I really do.”

“Tommy seems to think you wanna suck his,” his gravely voice speaks with a snarl. “That true, too? You just another slut tryna fuck every man who won’t pay you for it?”

“Nope,” you reply cooly, forcing your tone to stay even as your heart tries to escape your chest. “Just a slut who can’t stop thinking of you every time she makes herself cum.”

“Christ,” he mutters, running a palm over his growing cock. Your rapid heartbeat moves lower.

“May I?” You ask innocently, taking a tentative step forward.

“No,” he barks. You take a startled step backward.

He stands up and closes the distance between you two, towering over you now that your seven inch heels are replaced by a pair of comfy slip ons. His broad chest heaves as he stares down at you, the look in his eyes almost scaring you.

Joel brushes past you, leaving you alone in his office.

“Anyone here?” He bellows out to the empty club.

He’s met with silence so you follow him out.

“Wait here,” he tells you as he walks toward the club entrance. You hear the heavy lock fall into place.

Your head is swimming with anticipaion as he stalks back to you. Hell, your panties are too.

“Move,” he commands, pointing to the bottle service area. You do as he says, walking up the few stairs that lead to the semi private area.

The open facing entrance had the trademark red silk curtains strung open. Joel pulls them closed, leaving only the light filtering through the top of the curtains and three quarter wall to illuminate the small area.

“Alright,” he says, facing you. He rubs his hand over the thick cock straining against his pants. “Y’say you want it so damn bad, better make me believe it.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, biting your lip with anticipation as you take him in.

“Excuse me?” He says with a cocked brow, bringing his hands to his hips.

“I will,” you assure in a breathy voice. His brow stays cocked. “Sir,” you add meekly.

“Atta girl,” he says, his gravelly voice sending chills down your spine.

You slowly sink to your knees before him, looking up to meet his dark gaze.

Your hands shake as you bring them up to undo his belt. You don’t think you’ve been this nervous in front of a man since you were a teenager.

You reach into his soft, elastic boxer briefs and grasp his heavy cock, barely able to fit your hand all the way around it.

Your eyes widen as you take him in. His cock is literally mouthwatering. You press your tongue flat against his thick head, precum already beading at the top. You let your pooling saliva run down his shaft before tracing your tongue over the vein that runs down the length of it. You pump his dick slowly with one hand and while sliding his underwear down further, freeing his balls. You duck your head low and bring them into your mouth, gently licking at them.

You hear Joel groan quietly from above you. You look up to find him peering down at you. “Such a good girl,” he says breathlessly.

His praise sends warmth through your entire body. You return your mouth to his cock but gently cup his sensitive scrotum, squeezing lightly. Your jaw feels tight trying to fit his entirety into your mouth without accidentally scraping your teeth against him.

You remember Tiffany’s words from earlier and think how you love a good challenge too. Especially ones that paid off.

You feel the head of Joel’s cock reach the back of your throat and you gag a little before forcing a deep breath in through your nose. You do your best to relax as he starts to thrust his hips up into you, meeting your eager movements. Your free hand grips him at the base, gliding in time with your mouth. You use your thumb to add pressure to the underside of his dick, mirroring the action with your tongue as well.

Moans are escaping with his deep breaths. You look up again and see his eyes clenched shut and his mouth agape. The way his brows furrow and lips curl into a snarl the same way when he was enraged and aroused turns you on endlessly.

You quicken your pace, aching to feel him come undone.

“Wait,” he says weakly, getting closer. “Stop, stop, stop,” he pleads in quick succession.

But you can’t. You’re too drunk off his pleasure to ever quit.

His orgasm spills over, unleashing hot spurts of cum onto your tongue. You swallow him without hesitation.

You tilt your head up, pleased with yourself, but he’s not blissed out like you were hoping.

He seems… angry. Or turned on still. It was really fucking hard to tell.

“Thought I told you to stop,” he snaps.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mewl.

“Sorry,” he scoffs. “Get up.”

You stand to face him, searching for something other than anger in his expression. He grabs you by the back of your hair, yanking back roughly. You let out a gasp.

“Since ya like swallowing so damn much.” You watch in awe as he spits directly in your open mouth. It partially paints your puffy, sensitive lip. “There you go.”

You swallow his saliva, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. It’s ironically the closest thing you’ve had to a kiss with him.

“Don’t I get a thank you?” He half questions, half demands in a harsh tone.

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him softly, giving your best innocent doe eyes.

“I guess you didn’t want my cock buried in that pretty pussy, huh?” He taunts.

“I want it so bad,” you whine, “but I wanted to make you feel good.”

His expression softens. “You did, baby,” he says, moving his hand to cup your cheek.

Your heart swells at the pet name and newfound tenderness.

Joel moves his hand again to lift your dress and dip past the waistline of your panties.

“So wet from sucking my cock,” he hums. “I should just leave you like this. Aching for me.”

You don’t want to beg but you shake your head quickly.

“You need to be punished somehow, sweetheart.”

“However you want,” you pant desperately.

His eyes fall on the couch behind you. He takes a few steps before turning to sit on it. He extends a hand out to you.

Tentatively, you make your way toward him. He holds your hand in his as you stand between his open legs, feeling a shyness take over.

“Over my knee, baby,” he tells you.

You turn to the side and bend forward until your hips are resting on his strong thigh and your forearms are resting on the couch. Joel yanks your underwear down swiftly.

Before you can brace yourself you hear a loud smack and feel the sharp sting of his hand. You hiss through your teeth, wondering how many more you have left.

He slaps his hand down again in the same spot, causing you to yelp this time. As he continues, the pain begins to mix with pleasure. You keep yourself from rubbing against his thigh without his permission.

He delivers another blow and you moan loudly. “Fuck, Da-“

“Say it,” he coaxes. “Who am I?” He asks with another sharp slap.

“Daddy!” You cry out, tears threatening to spill over.

He lands one more smack before switching to a soft caress. Your skin is so sensitive, it sends a harsh shiver through your body.

“Your ass looks so pretty covered in my handprints, baby,” he says, continuing to run his fingers lightly over the reddened skin. “You did so good for me.”

“I’m sorry you had to punish me, Daddy,” you sniffle, the tears finally coming down.

“Come here,” he tells you, repositioning your body to face him, straddling his thighs. You study his face in the dim lighting. His eyes always looked a little pained, you realize. Deep set lines etched themselves in his forehead over the heads, softer ones around his eyes. Your gaze wandered over his prominent nose and strong jaw, covered in graying, patchy scruff. He’s not your usual type and yet you couldn’t think of a man you’d ever found more attractive. Your eyes landed on his full lips, dying to kiss them.

He doesn’t leave you wanting for long, closing the gap between your faces. His lips felt somehow softer than they looked against yours. You part your mouth eagerly and he takes no time to enter your mouth. His tongue expertly licks at yours. You moan desperately into his kiss, grinding your drenched pussy into his half hard cock.

“Please,” you beg him.

He chuckles gently at you. “You’re expecting an old man to fuck like a teenager.”

You let out a huff, wishing you had listened to him.

“I won’t leave you hanging, sweetheart.” He brings his hand down between you, rubbing your clit with his thumb for a moment before pushing two thick fingers into you with ease. “But you gotta get yourself off this time.”

You start slow, dizzy with lust as you move yourself up and down on his fingers. He curls them slightly, hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

“That feel good, baby?” He purrs.

“So good, Daddy,” you answer, quickening your pace and grinding down on his palm.

He brings his free hand up, pulling the straps down on your dress. He ducks his head down and his mouth is at your chest, surely salty from sweat. He licks and kisses over your breasts before dragging his nose up your neck, inhaling your musk.

The simple movement send you that much closer to the edge, the pleasure threatening to bubble over at at moment. You chase your release, bouncing and grinding on Joel’s hand while you think about the orgasm you gave him moments ago. The twisting coil in your center comes free as you cum on his fingers with a loud cry.

“Good girl,” he praises in a strained whisper before planting a warm kiss on your forehead.

You come down from your high with shaky breaths. He takes his fingers away, wiping them on his already ruined pants.

You throw your arms over his shoulders and bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, trying to burn it into your memory.

He lets you stay that way for a while, running his hand up and down your back.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs in your ear. “We gotta go.”

You hate that you have to leave. You would sleep at the club if it meant spending more time with Joel. But you relent, climbing off his lap and retrieving your underwear.

Joel is first to exit the room, you follow slowly behind and see him emerge from his office with your bag in his hand. You hold your arm out to take it but he ignores your gesture, carrying it for you as he walks you to your car.

Yours and his are the only two left in the lot, well beyond close.

“Text me when you get home,” he tells you, giving you your bag back.

He pulls his phone out and hands it to you for you to put your number in. You enter it in alongside your real name and save the contact.

“I will,” you promise. “Goodnight, Joel.”

He bids you goodnight with another kiss on the forehead.

It’s late and you are beyond exhausted when you reach your apartment. You pull your phone out and see one new message from an unknown number.

Joel Miller

You smile, and send him a quick text back.

Home.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #joel miller series #tlou smut

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scummy-writes · 11 months ago

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Anniversaries - A Solo Arthur Fanfic

Rating: General

Pairing: Arthur/Reader

Words: 1,752

Tags: Character (Reader) death, Reader has she/her pronouns, Angst, Coping, Grief

Music boxes seemed to be curious things, somehow managing to play a few notes of their songs at random hours in the night. It had been more than once that the music box Arthur had gifted her interrupted his writings, its metallic twings pulling his thoughts away during breaks, a frown being shot its way. During the times she was around to catch him in the act, she would titter sweetly and mention how it just needed to go through a round of its tune, then it would stop eagerly trying to catch their attention.

He didn’t understand why she personified it, concluded in the end that it had to do with its likeness of Vic, but her same joke played out so often that it became a small custom between the two of them. A random ting in the night, and the box was promptly wound. And to Arthur’s surprise, it seemed to work. One play, and they wouldn’t hear another peep for weeks.

Truly, Arthur couldn’t despise the gift. Every time its tune rang out, he’d remember a memory shared between them, especially of the night he had given it to her. Often enough, she’d bring it up as they’d listen together, throwing in a teasing comment about how he stuttered through reason after reason as to why he had bought it for her. She’d fondly recall how cute she had thought him to be then, completely changing the impression she had of him, realizing he was much more than just an irresponsible flirt. If he was lucky, and his pout gained enough empathy, she’d laugh and grant him a kiss for her ‘harsh’ words.

In return, he’d tell her what exactly had caused him to stutter that night. The fear that he had read her interest in the music box wrong, that the gift would be nothing more than a burden-- or worse, an ill reminder of why she had been wary of him in the first place. How all of his worries vanished the moment she smiled. His voice would lower then, admitting that was when he had fallen for her.

Once, years later when its tune began to slow no matter how firmly she wound it, Isaac agreed to take a look at it, quietly excited to pop it open. She had happily turned it over in his care with just one simple request; don’t fix whatever caused it to play by itself.

Afterward, when the box was back in their care with renewed vigor, Arthur would tease her for managing to make Isaac look so perplexed. Though in the quiet following that night, as its song rang out again, he’d privately admit to himself he had wanted the same. Just to have another moment where she smiled, joked about the box’s excitement to sing for them, and wind it up again.

And now, decades long after hundreds of those moments, Arthur’s longing for her chuckle still remained when the box quietly twinkled from the vanity in the corner of his room. Its notes weren’t as crisp as they used to be, and by now, Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he had properly wound it up to let it sing. Most of the time it sat forgotten through the years, Arthur barely passing it a glance save for the nights he hadn’t sobered up before coming home, his drunken stumbling causing it to wearily attempt to creak out its tune.

This time, it stole his attention when he lazily tossed his jacket towards that corner of the room, exhaustion from the day leaving him apathetic towards the state of his surroundings until a quiet twing rang out. Briefly, he had assumed he imagined it. Until remembering that more than his bed and writing desk occupied the room.

Another note chimed, muffled under the fabric that had been hastily draped over the vanity’s mirror one day. Arthur could have ignored it, truly he could have. There was still time to pretend it didn’t exist. Just to turn and grab his wallet, spend the rest of the night in some bar again if sleep didn’t plan to take him first. But instead, he stalled, only walking over with the excuse that Theo wasn’t around to drink with yet. With a deep inhale, he grabbed the flimsy blanket covering the vanity and tugged, letting it slide down onto the floor as he took in the sight of the music box.

He gently traced the rim of its base, eyeing the design and how it uncannily remained the same after all this time. His gaze flicked upwards, meeting the mirror that rested behind it, raking his eyes over his own features. Features that seemed so young and yet so worn the longer he studied. It seemed that he shared some traits with the trinket, and he couldn’t help but scoff at the thought.

With a few tapping thoughts against the wood, his fingers finally reached for the discolored key that rested in its back, gingerly turning it with fear of its creaks. Just as the thought of its gears being too rusted to work enters his mind, the familiar tune began to play. Albeit slow at first, but after the first few twinkles, it sang as if it had just been assembled earlier that evening.

His fingers dropped, palm resting against the vanity as he patiently listened, remembering the late nights he had done this in the past. Became its audience for the night, quietly waiting for its energy to run out so he could go back to whatever it was he was doing. A memory of an old habit that unwillingly brought more along the way. Faint memories of how she would lean against him while they listened, still riddled with sleep and liable to use him as a temporary pillow.

His eyes settled on the dot that rested on the decorative dog’s chin, mimicking the one him and his late pet had shared. He could still remember her quiet smile when she presented it to him, a few weeks after they had put Vic to rest. She had apparently borrowed some of Vincent’s supplies to match the plaster dog’s patterns with his, in an attempt for a kind reminder.

At the time, Arthur had set it aside and pressed a kiss against her temple in quiet thanks. Recalling that night, he now wished he had been more verbal with his affections, along with countless instances that popped in mind. You would have thought that given the numerous stories he had penned, he could have mustered up the ability, yet…

“Bugger me,” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Every day felt as though he was in limbo, stuck in the few sober moments between his next drink and rough, nightmare riddled, mornings. It felt like he couldn’t go a moment without some despairing thought, and he scoffed. “Gods always been a right bastard, hasn’t he?”

It seemed like any time he had been blessed with happiness, the consequences struck twice as hard, leaving him consistently barely held together. Writing had been an escape in the past, but now every story he attempted to pen ended up becoming retellings of his moments with her, Letters he could never send, or just ink blots muddled with his frustration from never escaping the past.

There was barely a day where he could go without remembering the way her breathing had become a quiet rasp, her eyes exhausted and worn. It had been so hard to even look at her, so small and frail, pale as the sheets surrounding her. Arthur never wanted his last memories with her to settle into his mind like all the other deaths he had witnessed. Remembering her last soft smile, in the midst of memories from the war-- from the children he couldn’t save?

She had squeezed his hand then. Rather, attempted to, her grip akin to a child’s as his name left her lips. Slow words of her love poured out as the air in her lungs did.

He wished he could say that he did his best to hold it together in front of her, that he let her final moments remain peaceful.

His own lungs choke out a stuttering exhale as his eyes refocus on his reflection, seeing the same face that starred in his nightmares. Even after a hundred years of this body's youthful appearance of his failed years as a doctor, his mind still couldn't grasp that he wasn't locked inside those flashbacks.

With a vice grip digging nails into his chest, Arthur fumbles for the blanket, tossing it over the vanity once more as he attempted to regain his breath. There’s a clatter, leaving nothing to the imagination as the music box meets the wood of the vanity, a few twinklings playing out after a thick cracking.

He attempts to inhale, to release a breath he’s holding against his will, before he’s out the door, feet moving faster than his thoughts. All he can think of is-

“Theo,” Arthur’s voice is weighed down as he opens Theo’s bedroom door, the dealer in question barely even lifting a brow at the intrusion. “L-let’s get out of the mansion for a bit.”

There’s a moment of silence, save for Arthur’s panting, as Theo glances back at the papers on his desk.

“Can you give me a moment?” He looks up at him, noting the grip on the doorframe, the sweat soaking Arthur’s brow. He sets his pen down, getting up from his seat without any further questions. “... Let me grab my coat.”

It isn’t long until they’re settled into Theo’s car, Arthur’s unfocused gaze drifting out the window. Theo’s known for years now that words do little to nothing for him, not when he’s already this deep into whatever bog his mind had conjured up. If it were any other day, Theo wouldn’t be driving them into town. Instead, he’d be shoving Arthur in front of some last-minute distraction, until the man was actually paying attention to his surroundings, actually seeing that he had someone to talk to.

But today, he’ll grant Arthur another dip into his old habit of finding relief in the bottom of a glass, knowing that tomorrow, with his schedule already cleared in advance, that he’ll force him into staying sober again with talk of better times, with reminders of the promise Arthur had sworn to her and, later on, Theo. An unintentional yearly tradition of theirs.

This fanfic is actually nearly four years old! I remember dropping this WIP at the time because I was worried it wasn't clear or. good. but I was reminded of it today, so i went back and dusted it off, and rather enjoyed it really. I fixed some minor mistakes and here it is, a blast from the past (for me) finally posted. Hopefully this may encourage some of you to go back and look for hidden treasures in your wip hoards!

I actually rather enjoy this one, and that's not often something I feel like I can say. The ending is a bit blunt, but I think it's apt enough. I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

As an extra, there was a specific song I know I listened to while writing this, due to the themes of the fic and the music box being repeatedly mentioned. You can listen to it here, it's a vocaloid song called Music Box of Time.

Taglist (Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!): @yarnnerdally @katriniac @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bakaneko-chan @skoetiepoetie @bestbryn @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lokis-laugh @queengiuliettafirstlady @candied-boys @drachonia @fang-and-feather

Ikevamp masterlist | Ikepri Masterlist | Ikevamp/Ikepri Server

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur

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acidheaddd · 22 days ago

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Song tag - Couples Edition! Rules: Simply pick one of your OC couples and choose the song that best represents their relationship. Then post the song on your Simblr with a screenshot of your couple. Post the lyrics too if you want, it's up to you! Send this ask to some of your mutuals who also have OCs, or tag them in your post! No obligation, just have fun if you decide to do it! (WOO :D)

There's a couple really apt songs for Ian and Clover! Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol is one I've picked and Julie's picked out Birds of a Feather by Billie Eilish. I feel like Chasing Cars is more from Ian's POV while Birds of a Feather is more from Clover's. But really, they're pretty interchangeable too!

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world? Forget what we're told Before we get too old Show me a garden that's burstin' into life

Considering Chasing Cars is all about being completely infatuated with someone... That's definitely how Ian feels about Clover, even years into their relationship. He's someone that's almost always been the dumpee, never the dumper. He's been dumped for being too clingy -- too "annoying". Too much, but never enough in other areas. Clover came around in a time where he wasn't really looking anymore to be with anyone. But his ex boyfriend Christian brought her around, introducing her as his new flavour of the month kind of thing... And Ian was immediately smitten. Maybe not consciously, but their chemistry was undeniable. He made her laugh and he loved making her laugh. He appreciated all the things Christian seemed to overlook or even dislike about her.

And when Christian inevitably dumped her because he was "bored", Ian was there to console her. I don't think he planned to ever sleep with her, even at that point -- but it happened. And from then on, he decided she was all he ever wanted. He didn't care about her baggage. Didn't mind giving up his privacy to offer her a safe place to live, away from her mom. He was and still is totally infatuated with her. To the point where he is more than happy to just lay in bed with her, doing absolutely nothing... Forgetting the world.

I want you to see, hm How you look to me, hm You wouldn't believe if I told ya You would keep the compliments I throw ya But you're so full of shit, uh Tell me it's a bit, oh Say you don't see it, your mind's polluted Say you wanna quit, don't be stupid

As for Birds of a Feather... this bit I feel like is perfect coming from both of them. Both of them have self-esteem issues... Ian's just more... not private, necessarily, but. He copes with humour and will self-deprecate himself into oblivion under the guise of jokes. Most people just accept these instances as jokes, but by this point, Clover sees through it. She knows him well enough now to know how he works and when he's trying hard to mask whatever it is he's actually feeling.

Clover is the same, to an extent. But she's more volatile with her emotions. And will sometimes say some really out of pocket shit about herself that makes Ian immediately, "stfu" and try to build her up. They both see the best in each other, but can't see the best in themselves. Both have been torn down in their childhood -- whether that was by parents or other kids. But they're trying their best to help each other see they're not both completely hideous, unworthy fuckups.

#ask #ian knox #clover jones #longest post i've made about them so far i think 😂

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ceasarslegion · 8 months ago

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The DNI that made you do math to use it?? 👀👀👀

Youre the first one who asked, so you get the answer.

This person was one of the other two weirdos from the Half Life RP discord server i teased at in this post earlier this week:

Once again, i want to disclaimer that this is not a callout post, I will not be giving any details that could be used to identify this person, and I will not be posting screenshots this time because they are still active on tumblr afaik. I dont want this to be used to bully anybody, this is just meant to be my personal experience with my specific side of this story. You can DM me directly or throw in a private answer request in an ask if you want screenshots, but only people i already know and trust not to cyberbully them will get a direct link to the DNI. The person in the story I linked is no longer active anywhere online, which is why I provided screenshots in that story.

And before i lay out the DNI details, I just want to say... there is a FINE LINE between requesting accommodations for a mental illness and infantilizing yourself. I can handle the former just fine, I will do all I can to help, but if you're a grown-ass adult babying yourself and then going "waa im autistic i cant do anything" i have ZERO tolerance for that. Buddy, I'm autistic, and I'm telling you to grow the fuck up.

Yeah, this person was one of those. They were over 18, and had public breakdowns about how everything was just soooo hard for them and everybody else was being problematic and ableist for *checks notes* asking them to wait in a line that was a little long for a new phone plan. Real example, they were screaming and crying in the vent channel because the line at a verizon store was a little long, and implying their father was ableist for asking them to wait for 20 minutes. Buddy, there are some things you JUST need to deal with in the real world regardless of whatever mental soup you have going on. If your autism is that bad, the solution is looking into things like noise canceling headphones, sunglasses, etc. But the world will not stop having lines that you just need to wait in sometimes because you dont like them.

I know that sounds harsh, but they werent exactly the type of person im willing to give the benefit of the doubt to. The majority of their problems were entirely their own fault, and they were clearly enabling and feeding the harder parts of their autism rather than doing anything in the way of learning to cope with it. I am terrified of spiders, like full on panic-inducing terrified of them, but I throw hands at them instead of running or freezing up. One time, I posted a photo of this gigantic-ass spider that was in my dorm room after I screamed and squashed it with my heavy duty winter outdoor patrol boots (im a security guard, not a cop, before anyone draws the wrong conclusion from that), and they proceeded to vague about me IN THE SAME SERVER about how problematic and insensitive i am for triggering their arachnophobia. My brother in christ when did you ever say you were triggered by spiders? Do you expect me to read your fucking mind?

Another instance was when they asked for the role to access the nsfw channel. They were over 18, so it was granted. They then got mad at us whenever we got horny on main in the sex channel because they were only there for the dirty jokes (that were posted in the main server anyway because none of us consider JOKES to be inappropriate). They literally asked for the sex channel role and then claimed we were being problematic because we talked about sex in the sex channel when they were uncomfortable with sex. And they had borderline puritan attitudes around sex. They acted like sex was icky and gross and should never be discussed around them lest it corrupt their pure innocent soul. Yeah thats your own fault chief, grow the fuck up.

Some lightning round stories: they broke up with their boyfriend purely because he liked "irredeemable media" and when said boyfriend said they were being a total dick for that, they proceeded to whine and cry that he was actually being abusive and terrible for being upset that he was dumped over the fucking movies he liked of all things. They once sat outside their little siblings recital and complained that their parents were problematic for not charging their switch enough because it died at the same recital they couldnt be assed to sit in for because "waaaa its too boring and thats bad for my autism." Didnt even TRY, just sat outside the door playing switch and then complained that their parents didnt charge their switch enough. Can you not plug something into a wall your damn self.

Needless to say, i didnt like them very much. I can handle legitimate accommodations, but they were just so self-infantilising that they gave the rest of us a bad name. Your autism is not an excuse to act like a fucking baby. You are not made of porcelain, you will not shatter at the slightest touch, being uncomfortable is a part of life youre going to have to deal with. Its not your autism at this point, youre a grown-ass adult who throws a tantrum when the line is a little long. GROW. UP.

Now that that rants over, lets get into what the DNI on their blog was like, because this behavior from them that I just outlined really contextualizes it.

Their DNI had two tiers. The first was "red flags," which meant that if you met any one of them you apparently werent allowed to interact. Of this included your typical nazis, pedophiles, terfs, and... beastars fans. No word of a lie. Being a fan of beastars was apparently just as bad as being a nazi. What did my boy legosi do to you? (Side note: i am forever enamored with how these people seem to think that theres people out there who both self-identify as nazis and would respect a DNI. I didnt even respect that DNI. I didnt interact with them because i thought they were a terrible person, but i did not take that DNI seriously. I was openly posting about beastars in the same server LMAO) and it wasn't just beastars, there was a ton of media that i didnt even know had discourse around them that they listed as red flags if you ever touched. Amazing.

The second tier was "yellow flags" which meant that you werent allowed to interact if you met any 3 or more of them. Here was mostly media, including homestuck fans, neil gaiman fans (WHAT DID NEIL DO TO YOU), and harry potter iirc. (WHY DID YOU SINGLE OUT BEASTARS?? WHAT DID MY BOY LEGOSI DO TO YOU) my favourite part of this though, was that republicans were listed under yellow flags. Apparently its worse to be a beastars fan than a republican. We arent gonna fucking make it

#ramblings

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babyhatesreality · 2 years ago

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I’m not sure if something like this ever happened to you: but when you are really really tried or just have something else in your mind… sometimes you forget things and go looking for them even though you have them literally by yourself 😂😅 (looking for you glasses while wearing them hapen to me so often 🥲)

Could something happend to Steve and Bucky to or even their little one? 😃

Darling!! Great question :D (PS thank you for your patience my angel)

So...sort of. It happens to Steve and Bucky, but not to you. And it drives them nuts. Because you never forget ANYTHING.

You have an almost supernatural gift for finding their stuff, mostly because (and you're not even consciously aware of this) you seem to have a radar as to where they are at all times if they're in proximity to you and you're awake.

Steve has a habit of setting down whatever is in his hands if something big grabs his attention. And, being Captain America, that could mean anything from hearing you squeal and he's not sure if it's a scared squeal, to his mission communicator going off, to a news story suddenly popping up about someone being in trouble, to a missing dog poster. If he senses a mission that needs him, he almost goes into autopilot to help. On good days, Bucky jokes that it's the Cap version of his Winter Soldier programming which often earns him a scathing glare. When the problem is solved, Steve'll try to go back to what he was doing before, but can't remember where he set stuff down.

You can basically retrace his steps from memory and find whatever it is. To you it's the best treasure hunt ever and you love it. While he's always grateful and rewards you for helping, and genuinely loves that it makes you so happy, it drives him bonkers that he can't remember where he put the thing down in the first place.

Bucky has a little more of an excuse- there are holes in his brain from Hydra that will never fully be gone. He's done a lot of work to deal with these issues, including finding coping mechanisms to help him remember little details. That's what drives him nuts. Sometimes when the big stuff slips, he can begrudgingly accept it. It's the little stuff, the innocuous and unimportant stuff, that drives him mad. And he legitimately tries not to get down on himself when something slips through the cracks...but he's never been self-forgiving.

You don't realize exactly what's going on with him- why he gets so gloomy when he can't remember where he put his book down when he just had it. You just know that when you play with him, he gets happy and isn't gloomy any more. So if he's all frowny trying to find something, you go into full-on Private Baby mode. It becomes a critical mission to find it, and you'll run to your room and put your doggie tags on and a bicycle helmet and Papa's big brown leather coat (which is about 4000 sizes too big for you) and come out barking orders like you're a drill sergeant, determined to find the missing object and not resting till you do. It always breaks Bucky out of his funk, and he'll usually join in the mission (which often includes getting bombarded by pillow bombs, having to belly crawl down the hallway, and spying on Papa to make sure he "hasn't gone rogue").

They like to privately joke (when they're not annoyed at themselves for losing stuff) that you're better than St. Anthony. After you find something, they lovingly tease each other that St. Katie Cat has won the day again.

#daddy!bucky #daddy bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky x little reader #daddy stucky #daddy!stucky #daddy stucky x little reader #daddy!stucky x little reader #daddy steve #daddy!steve #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy steve rogers #daddy steve x little reader #daddy!steve rogers #daddy!steve rogers x little

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panelshowsource · 1 year ago

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i don’t consider myself an unhappy person nor am i a victim of life, though contentedness has been out of reach countless days since childhood. i have carried some bitterness with me, which became some of the foundation of my youth, and sought the moments i could forget it, let it be, or even let it go. one of my great strategies in this has been panel shows, light entertainment and d-list celebrities british people i’ve met in the real world love to tell me don’t matter much back in ol’ blighty. what can i say? they’ve always made me smile: i can step into a bubble where even the most difficult realities — my country’s repugnant politics, terrible wars, phobia and prejudice — are consumable, can be looked in the face, can be dissected. they’ve taught me so many things about the world and the state of it, acted as a window into others’ lives, inspired me in building community and camaraderie. they’ve been my greatest coping.

sean was an integral character in this universe of facing the world and of coping. as sincere as he was absurd, i deeply cherished his approach to the world. he was outrageously silly and brutally honest; he could be as kind as he could be harsh; despite being intensely private he offered so much of himself; and in the face of his most difficult reality he managed to win rectum of the year.

for over half of my life, i've witnessed his convictions and related to them greatly. i too want to be someone with strong beliefs that don't become the whole of me, someone who can accept so much of the world is out of my control and live anyways, someone who brings genuity to my friendships, someone who is reliable — in relief or in honesty or in kindness or in whatever. he was him, truly. i want to be me.

unapologetic, fiercely goofy motherfucker sean lock, thank you for everything, for every sacrifice and every late night and every inconvenient gig and every good-natured laugh after every bald joke. you weren't bald. i've coped well because of you and every day become someone — a woman, a friend, a citizen — i am more proud of. we think about you all the time and always will; a forever companion. rest in peace.

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byunbhyunz · 2 years ago

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Lead and Gold 4.

Pairing: Eunhyuk/Reader

Genre: mafia!au, smut and fluff

Warnings: swearing, blood, smut eventually

Word count: 3,114

There were a lot of gossips about your superior, Doctor Jung’s secret works, where he invited surgeon residents to his private clinic to help him out. Afterwards, no one talked a word about it. Then, your time came. He took you there too, and you did your best to do exactly what your job was in the hospital: saving people’s lives. You just didn’t know who’s life it was this time.

Previous | Next

Not looking in the mirror failed greatly, and you almost got a heart attack by noticing your reflection. Or rather by not recognizing yourself in it. You looked how you were feeling: beaten to shit. Well, yeah, you won’t be able to avoid questions in the hospital, doesn’t matter how much make up you’ll try to put on.

So you didn’t bother to cover your bruises at all.

When Shindong saw you after getting ready for your night shift, he simply scoffed and smirked as if he heard a nasty joke. You even heard him mutter something like ‘this will be interesting’ under his breath, but you weren’t so sure about that. You decided to ignore him. It became your habit lately; ignoring whatever disliked thing came to your way.

Coping with mafia stuff wasn’t something you could or wanted to get used to.

Shindong declared he would drive you to and from work, and he’d wait for you in the car. He made you put his number on speed dial in your phone, just in case of emergency, but you doubted you’d have time to call him if some thug attacked you in the hospital or somewhere else.

During your three-day long involuntary vacation, you missed a lot of gossips, and you were sure Ryeowook would fill you in on all of them. However, none of them seemed to be as big of a news as your bruised face.

Your sassy colleague got tongue-tied as soon as he saw you, only gawping at you openly. Other doctors, residents and nurses weren’t brave enough to do the same. They stole quick glances at you and then talked behind your back when they thought you were out of earshot. Most of the time, you weren’t, and heard everything they said.

Well, Ryeowook wasn’t that kind of a man. He stared at you with opened mouth and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. It took him less than a minute to get over the shock, and pour his questions onto you. You just waved all of them off. What could you say to him, anyways? That you have got beaten up, because you involved yourself in some shady mafia business for money? Doesn’t matter how you looked at it, it didn’t sound good. So you sealed your lips, and shut his questions off with your own.

“Shouldn’t you be at the ER?”

“Not before you tell me what happened to your face. Have you got botched?”

“What?”

“You know. You wanted some botox done and they botched you.”

You raised your eyebrows, but had to fight off a wince, since it still hurt. You never realized how many face muscles you used for the most simple things. Like cocking an eyebrow affected muscles even under your eye.

“For the love of god, I didn’t have botox, so don’t go and spread it around the hospital. Please, Ryeowook.”

He sighed, the joking manner leaving him completely, and a more serious look filled his face. You never saw him look like that. He was always goofy and snarky, joking around a lot, so it was a weird experience.

“I hoped I was right about the failed plastic surgery, because looking closely at your bruises makes me assume something worse. Even an idiot could tell that you were beaten.”

Pursing your lips, you turned away from him, planning to make a bee-line to the ER. Jung was on the same shift too, and he’ll probably make you assist him if there were some urgent cases that needed to tend to immediately.

“Tell me no one hurt you and I’m just misunderstanding your injuries,” Ryeowook spoke in a tight voice, and you didn’t have a heart to lie to him. But you had to.

“You’re misunderstanding it. I slipped and fell down the stairs a few days ago.”

“And you hit your face on every single step?”

“No. I face-planted into a pot of flowers. It wasn’t a pretty sight, trust me.”

Ryeowook’s gaze never faltered, the unbelieving shimmer never leaving his eyes, but if you kept up the eye contact long enough, then… Ah, yes, there it is!

He glanced away, before nodding to himself and going to the ER himself.

People could be tricked easily. They believed whatever you said if it was more convenient for them and you stated it confidently. In Ryeowook’s case, if you confirmed to him that your bruises was caused by someone hitting you, it would only disturb him. He would feel the urge to do something or help you, but deep down, he didn’t want to get involved really.

You two were only colleagues, nothing more, nothing less. It didn’t matter how close you acted with him or how he acted all sassy with you, still weren’t close enough to confide in each other.

So you lied confidently, and he decided to believe and not to pry any further.

And anyways, you would be dead in an hour if you told anyone about what happened. Or rather, Eunhyuk would get Ryeowook killed, too. It would look like an accident, a tragic one, so no one would suspect him or your ties to him.

Getting washed in for surgery, your mind was all over the place. Not only your colleagues stared at you strangely, even the patients did. They seemed to be uncomfortable around you, even after you told them the same fabricated story you told Ryeowook. Consistency was the key, yet they avoided eye contact with you, and gave you one-worded answers.

Lucky for you, Doctor Jung stepped in at the perfect time. You were feeling close to exploding with frustration, your hands were constantly in fists when you weren’t with a patient. The doctor asked you to assist him with a surgery. Then, in front of some nurses, he barked at you to leave your personal shit out of the hospital. You gave him a pointed look, but understood what he meant. You couldn’t loose focus during a surgery. It could cost you someone’s life.

So you shook yourself, hoping to get rid of your nervousness.

To be fair, it didn’t help at all. You could go on with the surgery without any problem, and your mind was focused on the tasks at hand, but you just felt out of it. What a relief that the patients was unable to stare at you from the operating table! That would be the cherry on top of all of today’s shit.

“Act professional,” you heard Jung’s whisper on your left. He was taking off his mask as well. His rubber gloves snickered as he removed them, and then threw them in the trash can. “I know, everybody gives you looks and they gossip, but not focusing on your job can end someone’s life. And I won’t be taking responsibility if you fuck up assisting on a surgery. Got it?”

You simply nodded, eyes fluttering in shame. Staring at the ugly linoleum seemed a better option then looking into the judging eyes of Jung.

He was right, you knew that. You were out of it during the whole operation, and you were lucky that you only got scolded by the Doc, not someone higher up on the hierarchy, or worse. You could have got an official warning for this. Hopefully, no one from the surgery will snitch you for this one time.

“Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

When you finally made eye contact with him, Jung opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the desk lady’s voice.

“Resident L/N is expected at the front desk. Resident L/N is expected at the front desk.”

You both looked up at the ceiling before he dismissed you with waving his hand. He avoided meeting your eyes now.

Reception wasn’t too close to the operating wing, but the walk helped you cool your head off, and you started to wonder why you were asked to go to the front desk.

Your parents would never come to visit you. Only you went to them, and all of you were okay with it. So what or who else could it be?

You got your answer as you turned the last corner leading to the reception. At the front desk, stood the man from your latest nightmares: the skinny guy who broke into your apartment and assisted with beating you up.

He had a five o’clock shadow on his jaw and with an almost pleasing smile on his lips chatted away with the desk lady. And she seemed to be swooned by whatever he was telling her.

But pretty words and nice smiles couldn’t trick your now trained eyes. You saw right through him.

His eyes were rather cold, the smile never really reached them. His hand – the one he didn’t use for leaning on the front desk –, were constantly moving, probably trying the steam off his nerves.

With every step you took in his direction, a lump was forming and growing in your throat. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You should just call Jung or Shindong. Yeah, you should do that for real.

But you were too stubborn for your own good. And a little stupid, maybe. So you walked right up to them, not sparing a glance to the man, you spoke to the desk lady, after taking a quick look at her name tag:

“Who was looking for me, Joonja?”

“Ah, yes, Resident L/N! This lovely man has been looking for you,” she said while pointing and smiling at the man next to you. You had to give her a point for not flinching when she saw your bruised face. Only then you dared to look at him, your expression not changing from being nonchalant. “He said, you planned to meet up today, but you never showed up or called him.”

“Did I, now?” Your voice was painted with a cynical tone, which made him blink slowly, fingers drumming on the counter. “Silly me for forgetting.”

“It’s okay. Let’s go and talk somewhere more private about rescheduling it.” His smooth talking made you break out in a cold sweat. He really was a professional, huh?

Maybe should have texted Shindong immediately, you thought as you started to walk away from the front desk. One last look at Joonja told you that in only ten minutes everyone will know that a mysterious man visited you to probably scold you about standing him up on your date. These would be just allegations, but as people will spread it, the truth would be deformed to a bunch of lies. Oh, well, you reputation was already tainted by the state of your face, so what more harm could this man appearing at your work would do to you? Except for killing you here or beating you a little more.

You confidently led him to a rarely used corridor of the hospital, then walked into a storage room. Cleaning will only start later in that wing of a hospital so you wouldn’t be interrupted right away, you thought as you looked at the cleaning supplies.

“What do you want?” You turned to the man with vicious eyes, after the door clicked shut behind you. “Are you planning on threatening me more at my work place? Because you won’t get away with that so easily.”

“Just here to give you a fair warning. Don’t meddle with Eunhyuk and his business.”

The way his face scrunched up and he refused to meet your eyes made you uneasy. He was standing close to the door, seemingly listening if anyone was coming, but you could only think about how he was blocking your only way of escaping if things turn for the worse. He fidgeted with his belt, fingers time to time wandering near his armpit. You suspected a gun hiding there which made you even more nervous.

“And you had to beat me up just to come and tell me that?”

“You seemed like a nice and hardworking person, so giving you a heads-up seemed appropriate. Siding with Eunhyuk doesn’t get you anything, you’ll only gonna get killed.”

“And you care because of why exactly?”

He heaved a long and heavy sigh, eyebrows furrowing with frustration.

The whole situation confused you. He was trying to help you? Making you to get away from Eunhyuk before you were involved too deeply with everything? Well, it was already too late. You helped the mafia boss and accepted money for your medical services. They clearly stated from that point on the only way out of it would be by a bullet to the heart. Clean, and making it look like anything but intentional murder, so no one would be suspicious. Except for this man, maybe.

“I don’t care. I only want to get to Eunhyuk, and if it will be through your dead body, then so be it.”

One word contradicting the other; it was hard to decide how you felt about that man. He seemingly wanted good for you by telling you to get away from Eunhyuk, yet saying not to care if he had to kill you to get to the mafia boss. Who was that man, anyway?

You inhaled sharply, getting enough of talking to him. Ten minutes must have passed since you left Joonja at the front desk, so words should have spread. It meant Jung would have heard about it already. You could only hope that he realizes that something was wrong and would call Shindong in.

It’s not like it seemed that the man in front of you planned to kill you here and right now, but you could never know with people like him. For the record, he didn’t even look like a thug or someone from the mafia. Nice, dark hair, simple clothes that you could see on any other man on the street. A nonchalant look on his face. Except for the possibility of having a gun on him, and those cold eyes that flickered around the room before settling on you again.

“For your defense: are you planning to tell me where Eunhyuk is?”

You smiled without any happiness, then scoffed.

“Still a no, for me.”

“I hoped you would change your mind. It would make things so much easier for you in the future.”

His words rang a bell in your head, so you decided to play the idiot card. You widened your smile, and in your most innocent voice managed to say:

“Change my mind? I don’t know anyone named Eunhyuk. I’m only a surgeon resident, trying to do my job here, but you keep me from that.”

It was his turn to scoff at your words. They were faker than artificial flowers sold at the dollar store. But if you would be in shit and someone questioned what were you talking about, nothing could be used against you. Deny and get away with everything was your strategy at the moment.

“I just…”

A knock on the door disturbed the moment, and the man failed to finish what he wanted to say. He was standing close to you, chest almost touching yours, which you only noticed now, when you were kicked out of the tense atmosphere. You were so focused on the conversation that you didn’t know when did you step closer to each other.

You stumbled back a little when the knocking could be heard again, followed by Jung’s voice:

“Yah, Resident L/N, your break has ended eight minutes ago.”

None of you questioned how did the Doc know you were in there, but you will definitely ask him later. The man opened the door and was greeted with the sight of Doctor Jung and Shindong. Scratching his stubble, he let out a low chuckle.

“Not knowing who Eunhyuk is, yet his dog is right here, looking for you.”

“What a coincidence!”

He stepped out of the storage room, bumping his shoulders into both men’s, giving them a smug look. You already saw Shindong reach for his gun on his belt as the man passed by them, but Jung put a hand over his before he could pull the weapon out. The doctor’s eyes were on you and with the shake of your head you signed him that nothing serious happened.

“See him out, then meet us here.”

Shindong only nodded at Jung’s words, then followed the nameless man out.

The doctor came in, trapping you two into the small room. The serious look only softened when he saw your form shaking.

“Are you okay?” He asked after a long pause.

“I’m good. How did you find us?”

“Security cameras and that stupid gossiping Joonja. Not to mention that no one would ever ask you on a date looking like that.”

The little jab didn’t even bother you anymore, but still hurt slightly.

“He was one of those who broke into my apartment.”

“What did he want? Tried to hurt you again? Or threatened you?”

“No, he warned me not to get involved with Eunhyuk and get out of it while I still can.”

“You can’t,” he added right away.

“I know. But he doesn’t.”

“What was that babbling about you not knowing Eunhyuk?”

You laughed humorlessly, running a hand over your hair. Your ponytail was still intact to your surprise.

“I played stupid. He felt off somehow. I mean, why would the enemy warn me to save my ass?”

“Maybe he fancies you.” Looking at him questioningly. You tried to keep a straight face, wanting him to break first. It didn’t took him long, his lips twitching until a smile took over his face. Laughing out loud, you doubled over, hands on knees. It was so unbelievable. Even thinking that the man who beat you up was liking you in any way was ridiculous.

“Let’s go and take a smoke break before getting back to work. We both deserve it.”

“What about Shindong? He supposed to find us here when he gets back.”

He just shrugged and was already out of the storage room, on his way for a cigarette.

The last time you smoked was in high school, and your lung didn’t have a great reaction to you inhaling smoke after such a long time. You coughed and choked, but continued smoking until you finished the cigarette. At first Jung gave you a weird look, but never said anything about your struggling. Not even made fun of you to Shindong who just got to you after you texted him your location.

You reeked of cigarette when you got back to the hospital, but you didn’t care. Jung was right, you deserved a break.

#lead and gold #eunhyuk smut #eunhyuk fanfic #eunhyuk #super junior fanfic #super junior smut #super junior

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frostfall-matches · 2 years ago

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[ matchmaking... ]

@shadow-wolf-03 : [ match report ready ]

your runner up...

✦ Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

Honestly, there are times here and there where you really remind him of Felix! That endears you to him, because he’s still rather fond of Felix even if Felix struggles with accepting Dimitri. And, of course, you’re not the same person (Felix’s default seems to be meaner and more distant, for starters), but Dimitri would easily be able to take your initial standoffish demeanor in stride. His people skills are fine, and above all he’s polite; he’ll default to basic small talk during your first few encounters, which may or may not be met with much response. Definitely a bit awkward! But he’s also comfortable with silence after greeting you, whereas you might try to start filling the silence by rambling about something - and he would gladly take whatever conversation bait might be there!

Your 8w7 enneagram type would actually be really helpful in general when it comes to interacting with Dimitri, both in a personal and professional sense. Your type suggests that you have direct communication, that you think practically and creatively, and you’re generally interested in keeping yourself and your loved ones safe by being able to keep control over a situation. Dimitri really craves people being honest and frank with him (while also not being too tactless or cruel), and his motivations align well with protecting other people. And, at the same time, the 7 wing for your type suggests you are someone who values new experiences and making an effort to live life to the fullest, whatever your definition of that may be. Dimitri would do well with someone that is a bit more on the lively side, it helps ground him and remind him that there will always be something to look forward to.

Compared to Claude, a relationship with Dimitri would be calmer, more low-key, a little sweeter. Dimitri feels deeply and holds a lot of love for his friends and partner. There are rare occasions where he affectionately teases you, such as when you indulge your sweet tooth or if you tell him some sort of lame joke. But above all, he’s genuine and honest and sweet. He’s straightforward with his affection. There are times where he’s a little shy when expressing his affection for you, and times where he’s more bold - it depends on his mood and the atmosphere! It’s pretty easy to fluster him or catch him off guard in a way that leaves his heart pounding, and he tends to flounder a bit when returning the love and affection. However, if he’s calm and comfortable and the two of you are in private, he’s actually pretty bold! He’s definitely a bit verbally affectionate (hello, him calling Byleth beloved in their paired ending), and is comfortable with physical affection. He seems a bit touch-starved.

Sometimes he pulls back when he’s struggling with his past and trauma. Dimitri will not burden you with his issues, at least not with those issues, though it’s a bit hypocritical of him because he’d prefer if you allowed yourself to be open and vulnerable if you’re struggling with something. He won’t ever push you to open up, but he will make sure that you know that he is here to listen without judgment and offer you support. Dimitri is pretty self-critical himself, which compounds with his survivor’s guilt; he might not be able to offer much advice when you struggle with perfectionism and being too self-critical, but he will be able to relate and understand where you’re coming from. That being said, he won’t let you off too easily if you get frustrated and give up on something too quickly! He knows that you can figure out how to achieve what you want, you just need to give it another shot.

That being said, he does get a bit frustrated by your go-to coping mechanism of avoiding the topic and laughing things off, playing your problems off as no big deal. Dimitri won’t outright say that this bothers him unless you ask; and he will be honest with you if you do. He knows he’s not necessarily in a place to critique others’ coping mechanisms, but he can’t help but feel troubled when he knows that his loved one is avoiding addressing their problems or processing any negative emotions that result from the problem.

Dimitri is absolutely the more responsible and restrained out of the two of you… meaning you are more likely to let loose. But please, don’t go too wild when you come up with some crazy plan or idea, he is begging you! He will try and talk you down from the ones that seem a little too reckless or troublesome, and he will sigh and wearily let you do what you wish if it’s a more tame idea that you want to try out. If you land yourself into trouble or get hurt, he will begrudgingly help you out, but he will give you a mild scolding. But, honestly, it’s kind of cute when his eyebrows furrow when he’s telling you to be more careful and to take better care of yourself.

When it comes to your more active hobbies such as exercising or playing a type of ball sport, Dimitri would actually really like to partake in those activities with you! It’s good to stay active as a knight in training (and later a fully fledged knight, soldier, leader, etc.), he likes being able to stay in shape and have fun with it. At first, he will be a little hesitant to get too competitive because he has difficulty keeping his own strength in check. If he’s not careful, he will accidentally hurt you, and then he’d just feel awful and avoid exercising or playing sports with you for a while… Though if he does hurt you, he will do his utmost to care for you! It’s different, seeing him in a caretaker role like that! But the more you two spend this time together, the more comfortable he gets with how you play off of each other! He still has to watch his strength, but he doesn’t have to worry about constantly monitoring himself and you.

He doesn’t have a strong interest in debating as a hobby (though he has no problem negotiating if it’s for official kingdom business), so you’d probably have to engage in that hobby with other friends. However, Dimitri does admire your willingness to entertain and initiate these debates; he finds security in your quick thinking and your willingness to examine an issue from multiple perspectives. In fact, he’d likely turn to you for your opinion on strategic or political matters, and he would greatly appreciate any input you had on the subject at hand.

#user matchup #fe3h #request

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meltlilies · 10 months ago

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🍅🧅🥬? :3

🍅 [TOMATO] How misunderstood is your OC? In-universe or IRL.

Painfully so. A lot of people looked at him pre-2077 and saw his implants and just assumed he was living the high life being at Arasaka. And then they proceeded to get on his ass because he was depressed despite having top of the line everything, not even thinking for a moment that he might not have agreed to all of the modifications he had. Now people understand even less why he’s gone so out of his pocket and out of the way to look kinda…boring? Like just some guy.

He’s also really depressed/makes a lot of self deprecating jokes to cope with all the trauma and rather than anyone actually address why he feels like that he gets yelled at. Be nice to him he’s sensitive.

🧅 [ONION] What is surefire to make your OC cry? Who knows of this information?

Oh god he is…he is really bad about crying. He is so emotionally stunted from years of being closed off and abused he just hasn’t. Something bad happens and he compartmentalizes everything in a bad way.

Johnny, Mistletoe and Kerry definitely get him with the it’s not your fault bit to get him to actually open up and make him release whatever he’s feeling on a major occasion. But I think Kerry gets him weepy really easily when they’re together and he starts talking about how much he loves him? He’s not used to that so it gets him all misty eyed when Kerry starts listing off what he likes so much about him, or talking about fond memories and he looks like. 🥹 on the couch.

🥬 [LEAFY GREEN] How mundane are they? Do they like it that way?

In his every day life he is just chilling, really normal ngl. When there’s no gigs, no relic shit, no Arasaka ruining his life he gets to have like. Making meals be the hardest decision of his day, and he does like it that way. He just wants a regular life, after his whole life was anything but.

He gets it with Kerry! It’s on another level because of the money and who Kerry is but at home it’s just two people who love each other and trying their best to not cook too badly and taking care of each other in their older age. He’s very sick post-canon and Kerry is, old. A quiet life in private is the best for them tbh.

#oc: vesper kimura #asks #WAH thank you I word vomit about my guy #he has mental illnesses they gotta add to the like DSM-69 they have in 2077 #also for context mistletoe is his best friend who is. not super gentle with him and has her own issues but they will die for each other

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kissingcicero · 6 days ago

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ok so yap incoming bc fuck this book, this movie, and the ghouls who used this man as a political pawn in his tragedy. (cw descriptions of suicide, ableism/sanism, Satanic Panic and homophobia.)

this is a made for tv movie (82) starring Tom Hanks in his debut. it's based off of a book written in 81 which was based itself on Satantic Panic, warnings of Reefer Madness, and a real life individual whose story was NOT THAT. it's a horrible book, misrepresenting a man who didn't deserve that to be his memory. it's a horrible movie, pushing the Satanic Panic and linking D&D to a non-existent crisis entirely manufactured by extremists.

James Dallas Eggbert the Third didn't commit suicide because of D&D. he was a closeted man living in a difficult era. he was severely depressed and using drugs to cope - yes, marijuana, but combined with coke and PCP that he made himself. he wasn't even psychotic. he was described as a genius. he went to college at 16, burnt out, dropped out, and worked in his father's store. he attempted suicide via OD in the universities tunnels. he also attempted with cyanide some days later. an entire year after his disappearance (his suicide attempts) he self inflicted a gunshot wound to his head. he was described as someone who frequently "wandered off to places unknown" (probably out buying drugs or supplies, using/making drugs and self isolating because he was mentally unwell.)

he was reported to be seen at a D&D convention happening the day after he went missing, but he was actually in hiding at his friend's house after the first failed OD. he was misconstrued for a story written by someone who didn't care. the entire link of him being associated with D&D was because a private detective found out he played while he was in school. he didn't believe he was his character, he was a suicidal person who CITED his PARENTS pressuring him as a reason for his attempts.

a remake of this would have to be entirely shredded and rebuilt. try consulting a dissociative or psychotic person. my take, as a schizotypal dissociative? the main character is in treatment. he doesn't go out much - but us sheltered/isolated folk still have social needs. he loves D&D. he spends his time wheeling around (damn right wheelchaired him) painting miniatures, making dioramas, building a table for his campaign. his caretaker hosts the sessions at his house. "it's the highlight of his week!" they say. "he's so excited to see you all!"

his friends don't mind that he takes it "too seriously." he's really good at the voices. his set pieces are so detailed because he cares. they don't mind that his house is accessible, stair lift, big bathroom, wide halls, short countertops. everyone brings themed snacks for whatever area of the campaign they left off in. sometimes he cancels last minute because he's not feeling well, but the group is sympathetic. he can't help it. hope he feels better. I know how much he loves doing this, so he must be feeling really poorly if he canceled, tell his caretaker to pass a message along that we care.

the conflict in the plot? a new person wants to join the crew. but our main character is schizotypal and he's paranoid. he takes a while to warm up to new people, and this new person has a lot of shit to unlearn in order to be someone he feels comfortable around. maybe they just don't get it, maybe they're just cracking shitty jokes, maybe they're deeply ableist in a irredeemable way. maybe they insist that it's weird that he takes this too seriously and that they play the game The Right Way and he's doing it Wrong and Weird. call him sanist words, crazy, schizo, total freak. feature some other characters calling them out on their ableism or sanism. telling them that it's not cool or explaining why those accommodations are necessary.

give the main character a scene talking about his experience with psychiatric abuse and institutionalization. maybe do a really cool (LOOKING) sequence in a ward where all of the staff look like monsters. (my experience!!) have it hit the audience that the maze is his mind, the monsters are those seeking to torment him. he plays D&D to work through his trauma. his characters represent things he wanted, a guide, a knowledgable kind innkeeper, a bard with beautiful tales to sing, a mentor, a protector in the form of a gallant knight, a mage with the power to repel monsters with a wave of a stave. (make them actualizations of his alters who want to partake in this game and are too uncomfortable to socialize in other more overt ways.) his stories are packed with tales of deep corruption, of the government at play setting the monsters upon people to control them, to make them infight and accuse each other of monstrosity, to distract them and prevent them from revolt.

the end? he doesn't need to be institutionalized (institutionalization is more often than not abuse. it's done for sane people's benefit. proper at home care should be featured here.) he doesn't need to change or stop being delusional or invested. he isn't a terribly sad tragic Trapped In His Own Mind guy. his mind is full of joy and comfort and he retreats when he needs to. the maze of his brain is a never ending puzzle to solve, and that's a source of glee. the new person is in the wrong here. they apologize. maybe put in a heartwarming scene where he shows them his diorama room and they feel bad for making fun of him "that this is his whole life" because it is, but that's not sad or pitiful because it brings him joy. if you want my full CripMadPunk take? KICK THEM OUT. you want to come to our friend's super dedicated campaign but you call him a schizo? go home. his friends stick up for him and tell the new person they're not welcome if they can't see their friend as a human being. end with all the characters sitting down to play. "So we sat down to play, like we always did" as opposed to the "So we sat down to play, one last time" line in the 82 film.

make the character sympathetic, but not trauma porn or misrepresentational. make ableism the main horror. call it Mazes and Monsters, and have the monster be ableism.

I e said before that a remake of Mazes And Monsters that like wasn't shitty and ableist could actually be like really good and now having finally seen it I can say that Bender's Game is like almost but not quite what I wanted.

#sorry i yap i have thoughts that think in my mind #also showcasing my roomie Gore. hi Gore #hehe um anyways can yall tell ive thought about this since i saw the movie.

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simpliao · 2 years ago

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let you break my heart again ; (irl) schlatt x reader

summary : silly to think he ever belonged to you.

info : based upon the song of the same name by the ever gorgeous Laufey, and shouldn't be by Luke Chiang, i love them both amazing songs that I completely recommend. cheating, depressive themes, mention of disordered eating, angst, I cried while writing this.

a/n : I have been so busy, and totally not based on experience lmao. I just needed to vent, so I hope you enjoy and can feel the hurt I'm currently going through <3 I'll see you guys in another four months

Shouldn't be.

Love shouldn't hurt this much. It shouldn't be killing me this much on the inside.

'maybe next week n/n, you know I'm busy.'

The message was all too familiar, barely legible as the world only became blurrier as tears flooded my eyes. My throat closed up, and I could only muster to text back as I always have.

'it's no problem! Can't wait for next week then :)'

I knew this song and dance would only follow into next week, my message left read and unanswered for what I know would be another dry answer hours in the future.

Laid upon a dishevelled bed, my eyes flickered my glance to my side, golden hour having already passed and no more light seeped into my room. My apartment for so many weeks deafly silent, my mind playing cruel tricks upon my heart when I could have sworn I heard his laugh echo off these walls. Always nothing more than a cope for what we've become, the sound of my own breathing and distant city sounds being my only comfort.

When that comfort used to me his arms, his hold, the gentle kisses upon my forehead and admissions of how beautiful he found me to be. No longer have I felt that way, not since. Just thinking about him causes me to choke back a sob, I promised myself I wouldn't cry. Not after I told myself I'd go with the flow, if he didn't care I wouldn't either.

He. Burnt auburn hair I still remember glowing when we'd drive out to the countryside to get a better view of the sunset at eight. Stupid jokes he'd make that would always draw a laugh out of me, his smile burnt in all corners of my mind; to only now haunt me every time I closed my eyes. He still stayed, even if I knew the same couldn't be said on his side.

I knew I shouldn't be doing this right now.

Leaving myself occupied in my mind, letting myself drown in thoughts and memories. If I were to shift my eyes I'd be able to see the school project sitting upon my desk, waiting to be done. And yet here I was, eyes permanently fixated upon the ceiling with my AirPods at its highest volume. Caught up in looking back.

He promised me to always be honest, that I was his and he was in turn mine. Those empty promises almost as empty as my stomach, the attempt of trying to get the sustenance into my body made me sick. Something would trigger of memory of us, and whatever sorry attempt at a meal I've managed to scrape together would be doused in salty tears; inedible. So empty I felt, I should have known; it's my fault.

He never had the best reputation. Twitter would have said 'told you so', Jeremiah Schlatt was never seen as a saint in the online sphere. When it came out that the two of us were friends, it shocked the community. Who would think? Two opposites would have such chemistry. Someone as blunt, sarcastic and cynical could pair so well with someone known to be so sweet, genuine.

That's all he ever wanted people to think, I question now if that's all he wanted us to be– with benefits to him.

Empty promises that when this or that would be sorted out, or when he'd be done planning something special he'd be ready to take on the responsibility. Everyone knew him to be the non-committal type, and yet he whispered into the cuff of my ear in our most intimate moments that he was mine– and mine alone.

And I supposed I was the fool to believe him.

From hours to days left on delivered, mute excuses to follow and never ending cancelled plans. We weren't together, yet he still gave the vague illusion that it was so. The use of private nicknames gave the feeling of being significant to him, and yet what we did behind closed doors was kept a tight-knit secret.

Now even wrapped up in comforters and bundled up in my warmest sweaters I still felt so cold, where his arms and warmth used to envelop now are permanently, bitterly frigid. The only thing keeping me going was foolish hope that I knew kept me foolish.

He wasn't coming back, not so long as he had my friends wrapped around his fingers. Pretending to not hear his flirty remarks while they giggled without knowing a thing ate me up from the inside.

I'd never say a thing either, lest I become the bad guy. Why couldn't I let him talk with his friends? Why couldn't he get time alone? His world didn't revolve around me so why are you acting crazy? You're wrong. We aren't even together... yet.

That last word used to tease and keep me in place, if I was good then that yet could become a maybe, and down the road a yes. I knew this was bullshit, meant to keep me where he wanted me. So he can feign guilt and use me all over again. I knew what I was, I was a toy for his amusement.

And I knew it all. I knew he didn't care about me, how his words would hurt, how he would lead me on with no more intentions than just a bit of fooling around. His eyes would wander, and a part of me hoped he'd never come back.

Because if he did I'd act the same, scared of being a nuisance, scared of being called mean names or seeing his gentle features turned malicious. I needed time for myself, and I knew I needed to cut him off to heal the scars he's left upon my heart. Keeping him close only hurt so much more, but it was a choice between loneliness or... More loneliness.

Until then, however, I'll just let you break my heart all over again.

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kass-storycorner · 3 years ago

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Mentally I’m getting worse again (tho I try to do all the stuff I learned from two years in therapy to … prevent it from getting bad bad ), so I’ve only been thinking about how some of the Genshin characters would comfort me? So here have this, whatever this is, that I wrote at 2am on a night before I have 11am shift at work. Using you in all of this but honestly this is 100% self indulgent. I just want someone to cuddle with. Pretty sure most of this isn’t really in character and every point is vastly different from the others but hey, it is what it is. As long as I’m in my current mindset my stuff won’t be any better than this

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst I guess idk man, comfort i hope

Content warnings: depression (?) I don’t go too much into detail, don’t want to write out those negative thoughts HA but you know you are just not in a good spot in these, absolutely inconsistent writing, every character has to deal with a different stage of feeling depressed and yeah

Characters: Diluc, Childe, Albedo, Yoimiya

Fun fact: my app crashed while writing this so thank the tumblr admins that you can restore posts you wrote after the app crashes one of the few good features of the app

Diluc:

Would definitely notice the first small changes in your behaviour, but wouldn’t think much of it in the beginning.

Maybe you are just tired? And even if not Diluc knows best that no one can always be chipper.

Still he doesn’t know how to act around you when you are sad / heading towards a depressive episode.

He would offer you his help, you just need to say what you need and he’ll give it to you.

Ah, but Diluc didn’t really consider at first that you would be too afraid to ask, even when he offered it to you.

One day he will directly ask you in the privates of your home if you are okay. At first you would try to brush it off, not wanting to be a burden on Diluc. You know how much he’s been through and that he also has his emotional scars… would be a bit selfish to dump it all onto him, wouldn’t it?

But oh, you’ve been dying to talk with someone about your feelings, craving a warm hug and words of comfort… so when Diluc doesn’t drop the topic you just let it all out.

He will take you in his arms and hug you, cuddle you, as long as you want. He’ll stroke your hair, quietly listening to your words, only small “mmmhs” and “it’s okay” leaving him, to reassure you that it’s fine for sharing it all.

When none of you talks all you can hear is his steady breath and oh, it’s so soothing.

Maybe you end up crying, while sharing all of it with him. All he does is to pull you closer into his chest, saying that it’s okay and tell you to let it all out.

Diluc hides his softer side from the people of Mondstadt, always hiding behind the more grumpy image some of him have, but he knows that it’s not good to run away from your own feelings. What you need to do is to feel them, do not try to push them aside because you are uncomfortable with them.

Generally he would be soft, kind and understanding. At first he might give you too much room, afraid he might be overstepping a boundary when he keeps pushing you in the beginning. Ends up in you isolating yourself / pulling away more, but once Diluc sees the pattern he will be more attentive to your needs and learn to differentiate between you needing space and you isolating.

Though please communicate with him better, he’s busy and if him having less time for you causes you distress you need to tell him, he might only notice it after the feelings festered.

Childe:

Oh boy - he hasn’t seen you in a while, Fatui duties you know, so when he knocks on your door one day he notices immediately that you are not in a good place.

This man - he cooks, he cleans, we all joke about him being the perfect husband but seriously. He sees the state of you, the state of your apartment and immediately helps.

Having spend the last week or two in a depressive state caused you to neglect your housework - the dirty dishes are everywhere and laundry keeps piling up. Not to talk about how you look.

Childe will make you a bath and while you’re in it he cleans. An immense help!!! Taking away a good chunk of thinks that made you feel just so overwhelmed and helpless.

The whole time he wouldn’t breach the topic of why it has come to that point, but now after you finished the bath and the apartment looks liveable again he asks you what’s wrong.

Honestly you don’t know yourself, you’ve been just lacking more and more energy to do the basic tasks and suddenly everything was a mess.

Will wipe away your tears and tell you “don’t cry, I’m here”, taking you in a hug.

When he’s around more, will he notice it when it slowly gets worse? Mmh, yeah!! He definitely notice when you are feeling more down, seeing how your interactions change and how your laughs become more forced.

In the beginning he will just try to make you feel all the “positive” feelings, not wanting you to feel any “negative” emotions at all

this man definitely represses his own trauma a lot and has a horrible way of coping with it so I doubt he would be the most emotionally intellectual person to help you through it

Though when you show that you don’t feel like showing your sadness aside and you just want someone to share it with / need some comfort he will adjust to your needs

Albedo:

Boy as impeccable observation skills, he will notice immediately when something is off.

However - he somehow struggles to understand your feelings. Like. At all.

When he asks you what’s wrong and you tell him that there is not a reason for your feelings, you just feel a bit depressed that’s all, he will not get it.

How do you feel a certain emotions without something causing it? There must be a reason for it.

And honestly he’s right there is always a reason for a certain feeling to arise, but sometimes they aren’t easy to understand for yourself or to spot, sometimes it’s just that your inner child needs a hug and it takes you three weeks and a metal breakdown to understand that this is all you needed… plus a good cry

He’s gonna be so awkward at trying to comfort you, making you feel better, at first. Trying everything out to cheer you up, he really doesn’t want you to feel bad. Asks around for advice what helps others when they are sad.

Honestly? The things he does, the small presents he gifts you - they are nice and make you feel loved, but it doesn’t make the bad feelings go away. Even worse it somehow builts up this immense pressure for you to get better quick because look! Albedo does nice things, he tries to help. He tries to figure it out. Why can’t you give him the results he hopes to get???

Only when someone (Timadeus for sure) finally tells Albedo that it’s not a special dish or flower or even place that helps with sad feelings - it’s that they remind them of something that’s comforting. Klee told him Dodoco helps when she’s sad, because Dodoco reminds her how much her mum loves her. So when people told him about certain foods or flowers - it was more because those were valuable for those individuals, doesn’t mean it has value to you. Most importantly is that he’s just there for you.

With that new bits of information he will try to adjust to your needs more, to learn what you need and to understand it.

He will be so upfront about it too, coming into your room and telling you that he’s been trying to make you feel better the past couple of weeks and noticing how your mood has not improved at all. Finally asks you what you need opposed to him only having asked why you feel that way

Will definitely make you cry with how he approaches the topic. When he apologises for making you cry you cry even harder at how soft he says it.

Albedo will remember what he was told, that it’s important to just be there for someone, so he will stay at your side, his hand on your back rubbing it while you are just sobbing.

After the tears have calmed down you can just be honest with him, tell him that you sometimes don’t know yourself what will make it better, that sometimes you just have to life with the feelings and accept them - but that his attempts really didn’t help.

He will apologise for putting more pressure on you, asking if you need a hug (something a lot of people have told him helps them but he was just to shy to actually try it out). After saying yes you both stay for a long time in the hug, the first thing in a long time to make you feel better.

Yoimiya:

My love, the light of my life, my future main - she would be SO good at helping you through an episode.

Notices the way you act towards her changes and immediately confronts you about it, afraid that something in the relationship is amiss until you tell her the truth that you are a bit depressed.

Canonically the one with the best communication skills, if you were to put her, Diluc and Kaeya in a room I’m 1000% sure those two would leave it as brothers again.

That said she can sometimes be a bit too overwhelming - she can talk a lot, but she’s a good listener too, but in her attempt to fix the issue she goes a bit overboard.

She’ll want you to talk it all out which isn’t a bad thing per se, but sometimes you just don’t feel like talking or that talking would help.

However the way Yoimiya is it will make you communicate with her more about how you feel and what you need - she kinda just seems to be more approachable and the kind of person you can pour my heart out to after meeting her on the toilets of a bar.

Will cuddle you as long as you need.

And honestly? 100% sure she would even make you a firework to cheer you up that you both watch from her favourite spot on a blanket while doing so (the cuddling!)

or you know maybe it’s just what I would really want to do with her when I’m depressed aka RIGHT NOW MAN

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