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joelmillerisapunk · 1 month ago

Text

Howdy Honey II. Beautiful Mess

Series Masterlist * Masterlist * Wordcount 6.6K

Summary: Joel grapples with his frustration and fear after you push him away

Warnings: the fluff before the smut! Some angst and mentions of loss

Notes: Thank you for the long wait for this chapter. Getting back into it with these two has been so much fun! I am very excited for the next chapter heheh. I can foresee three more chapters, which I will hopefully have out at a decent pace. Ty @evolnoomym for reading this over ♏️🌙

You

The first rays of morning light filter through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow across the living room. The ranch outside is waking up, the sounds of hooves and rustling hay mingling with the birds' early songs, but inside, there is a stillness. The air is cool, soft, and peaceful before the day fully begins. You lay on the couch, the blanket Joel brought you tucked snugly beneath your chin, feeling the comforting weight of it. The soft fabric smells faintly like him—like the dust and leather of the ranch, with a hint of something deeper you can't quite place. Your body aches from the injury, a constant reminder of your fragility, but the blanket is a small luxury, an oasis of warmth amid the discomfort.

The potted plant in the corner catches your eye as its leaves flutter in the breeze coming through the open window. The subtle movement is a welcome distraction, drawing your focus away from the twinges of pain in your side, from the dull ache that’s become your constant companion. It's not the worst pain you’ve felt in your life, but right now, in the stillness of the room, it feels like the only thing that matters. You wish you were in your own bed, in the comfort of your familiar space. You can almost picture it—your room upstairs, the soft quilts, the shelves filled with books you've collected over the years. But the reality of your situation makes that impossible. The mere thought of climbing the stairs sends another sharp wave of pain through your body, reminding you that independence is a luxury right now, not a reality. You’ve always been fiercely independent—too proud, maybe, to admit when you need help. The idea of relying on Joel, especially now, when every moment around him seems to stir something inside you, feels almost too much to bear. When you were healthy, those stairs were nothing. You could run up them without thinking twice, bounding up two steps at a time. Now, the idea of even attempting it is enough to make your chest tighten, a reminder that things have changed. You can’t ignore it.

Joel has offered more than once to carry you up to your room, insisting that you’d be more comfortable in your own bed. But each time, you've turned him down. It’s not because you don’t trust him. You know he’s kind, that he genuinely wants to help, but the thought of him lifting you, of feeling his strong arms around you... it stirs something in you—something complicated. It's not just physical pain you need to recover from. There’s a tangle of emotions you can't unravel yet, especially not with Joel so close. Instead, you remain on the couch in the living room, finding comfort in its familiar layout. The space is small, but it feels like everything you need is within reach. The kitchen is just a few steps away, and the thought of being able to grab something to eat or drink without too much effort is a small but significant source of relief. You don't have to ask anyone for help every time you need something. The books and movies you've scattered around the room are close enough that you can slip into another world with little more than a turn of your hand. There’s something reassuring about having everything within arm's reach, a reminder that you still have some control, some autonomy, even if your body doesn’t quite feel like your own right now.

But perhaps the most comforting part of this setup is Joel—always nearby. You know he’s there, moving around the ranch just out of sight, yet still within earshot. You can hear the faint sounds of him tending to the animals, the creak of the barn doors, the rustle of hay and boots on the dirt. It's not quite company, but it's enough. If something were to go wrong—if the pain in your side flared up again or you needed assistance in a way you couldn’t manage—Joel would be there in an instant. The thought of him close by, ready to step in, is both a comfort and a quiet reminder of how much you rely on him these days. You tell yourself that you don’t need him, but there's an undeniable warmth that settles in your chest knowing he’s just a room away. Still, the idea of needing help from him, especially in such a vulnerable state, stirs something deeper in you. Something that makes your heart flutter unexpectedly, a feeling that you can’t quite define. It’s easier this way—on the couch, within your little bubble of semi-independence, where your emotions can stay tucked away, just like the soft blanket Joel brought you.

You glance over at the cover of one of his daughter’s western novels, the title catching your eye. There's something about it that piques your curiosity, stirring questions you hadn’t meant to ask. Who is she, this daughter of his? Was she older? And then, the question that sits uncomfortably in your mind: Is Joel married—or was he? You’ve never seen a wedding band on his finger, never heard him speak about a wife. The mystery about him lingers, unresolved. You know you should be resting, but your mind refuses to settle. You shift slightly, adjusting the blanket as you try to distract yourself. Your eyes drift back to the book on the table—a well-worn copy of Lonesome Dove, its spine cracked and pages dog-eared. Something about the worn edges calls to you. It's a link to the world you grew up in, a reminder of the ranch life, of the toughness and independence that runs through your veins. You never could quite leave the ranch, even when you tried. You reach for the book, your fingers brushing against the paper's texture, the act of holding it feeling almost like coming home. You open the cover to the first page, the familiar scent of ink and aged paper filling your senses. As you dive into the world of Gus McCrae and Woodrow Call, the stories of cowboys and cattle drives pull you in. You’re captivated by Gus and Woodrow—two men bound by their pasts but so different in their approach to life.

As you read, you find yourself identifying with Lorena Wood, Gus's girlfriend. Her fight for her place in the world, her refusal to let others define her, resonates with you deeply. The scene where she insists on joining the cattle drive despite the objections of the men speaks to something inside you. The words, “I ain’t afraid of a little hard work,” echo in your mind, a mantra of defiance that you wish you could adopt fully. You can’t be weak. You won’t be.

"Dreamin’ is free, Lorena," Gus says to her, his voice a mix of wisdom and weariness. "It don’t cost nothin' extra to dream good dreams."

The words settle over you, and for a moment, you close your eyes. You think of Joel—his gruffness, his strength, the way he moves through the ranch with a quiet intensity. He’s always there, a steady presence in your life. You can’t help but wonder what kind of man he was before, what dreams he once had, what kind of life he led. Your thoughts drift, pulled back into the story before you can get too lost in them. The sun climbs higher in the sky, its light streaming through the windows, warm now, settling into the room. You glance at the book beside you and set it aside with a small sense of pride. You've made it through several chapters without letting your mind wander too much.

Your side aches more now from sitting too long, and you know it’s time to try standing. It’s been too long since you felt any sense of control over your own body. You push the blanket back, and slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the couch. The room tilts slightly as you plant your feet on the floor, and you take a steadying breath, trying to ignore the sharp twinge in your side. You hate this. Hate feeling weak. Hate needing help. But you can’t let that stop you. You refuse to let it define you. You're determined to regain some independence, to show Joel that you're not just some fragile thing that needs constant watching over.

You push yourself up, wincing as another wave of pain stabs through your ribs. The movement is slow, deliberate. Each step feels like an accomplishment, even as the pain pulses beneath the surface. You make it to the kitchen, though you're panting by the time you reach the counter. You grip it for support, feeling the cool edge beneath your fingertips. The simple act of pouring yourself a glass of water feels like a triumph.

Then you hear the creak of the front door. You don’t have to look to know it’s Joel. The sound of his boots on the floor, the low murmur of his voice as he moves about the ranch—it's all so familiar now. You hear him pause, then step into the kitchen. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there, gripping the counter like it’s your lifeline.

"Well, look at you," he says, a note of surprise and admiration in his voice. "You're up and about."

You offer him a small, self-conscious smile, glad he’s not rushing to fuss over you. "I thought it was time," you say softly, setting the glass of water down with careful movements. "I can't just lie on the couch all day."

Joel chuckles, his gaze sweeping over you with that same intensity that sends a warm flutter through your chest. He steps closer, cautious. "Reckon not," he agrees, voice low. His eyes linger on you, and you can't tell if it's concern or something else. "But don’t go pushin’ yourself too hard now."

"I’m fine," you insist, a little too quickly. "But you look like you’ve been at it all morning. Would you like something to drink?" You try to sound casual, but the offer feels like an excuse to keep him there, a way to ease the tension building between you.

"S’alright, I can get it," he says, but his voice is strained, tired. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, a visible sign of the work he's been doing.

Before he can protest, you start toward the fridge. "Shut up," you say with a teasing smile. "I got it. Iced tea, right?"

He chuckles softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "That’d be perfect, darlin’."

The fridge door opens with a soft creak, and you pour the tea, the cool liquid filling the glass with a satisfying sound. The simple act requires more focus than it should, but you take your time, savoring the moment of normalcy. You hand him the glass, your fingers brushing his ever so briefly. The touch is light, fleeting, but it sends an unexpected jolt through you, a spark that neither of you can ignore. For a moment, you both stand there, neither of you speaking, as if waiting for something to break the silence. His gaze flickers to the floor, then back to you, and he clears his throat, taking a small step back.

"Thanks," he says, his voice steady but low, and his eyes meet yours briefly before he raises the glass in a small salute. He drinks deeply, closing his eyes as the cool tea washes over him.

"You're welcome," you reply, your voice quieter than usual. You busy yourself with straightening up the kitchen, your hands shaking slightly as you try to ground yourself in the mundane. But even in the simple act of tidying, you can feel his gaze on you, the weight of it making you feel exposed in a way you can't quite understand.

"You’ve found some use for the blanket and books, I see," Joel says, his voice soft, but you catch the hint of something more in it, something like pride.

"They've been a good distraction," you answer, a little more casually than you feel. "I'm curious about your daughter’s books. She’s got good taste."

At the mention of his daughter, Joel’s face softens, a wistful look crossing his features. "She always did love a good story," he says, his voice quiet, distant. "Used to read to her every night when she was little. We'd get lost in all sorts of adventures together.”

The conversation takes a quiet but significant turn, pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. You sense it the moment Joel’s expression softens at your question, his guarded demeanor cracking just enough to let a sliver of vulnerability through. It feels fragile, like holding a bird in your hands, its rapid heartbeat thrumming beneath your fingers. You tread carefully, hoping not to press too hard but unwilling to let the moment pass unacknowledged. "What’s her name?" you ask gently, your voice soft but steady. You’re careful, wanting to open the door without forcing him through it.

He hesitates for just a breath before answering, his lips curving into a small, wistful smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Sarah," he says, his voice tinged with warmth and something deeper—something bittersweet. "Named after my grandmother. She is—" His voice catches, the present tense faltering mid-sentence like a misstep on uneven ground. "She was a special kid."

The weight of that single word, was, hangs in the air between you like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples of meaning outward. It cuts through the small warmth his smile brought, replacing it with a heaviness that settles deep in your chest. Your heart clenches, the realization landing like a blow. You try to keep your voice steady, though your stomach twists. "Was?" you venture cautiously, the single syllable feeling heavier than it should.

Joel’s expression shifts immediately—his jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing just slightly as if bracing for an impact. You see the pain flash through him, raw and unguarded, before he wrestles it back under control. For a moment, you think he won’t answer, that he’ll shut you out completely. But then he takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet and steady, though it trembles at the edges. "Sarah passed away a few years back." The words are spoken simply, but their weight is unmistakable, each syllable heavy with grief he’s learned to carry in silence.

The room feels smaller suddenly, the air thinner. You struggle to find something to say, some way to acknowledge the enormity of what he’s shared without reducing it to a hollow platitude. "Joel, I’m so sorry," you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in your words is palpable, your own troubles momentarily forgotten in the face of his loss.

Joel nods, his gaze distant, focused on something you can’t see. He doesn’t brush off your condolences or wave them away as you might have expected. Instead, he accepts them with a quiet grace that’s heartbreaking in its simplicity. "S’been tough," he admits, his voice low, almost a murmur. "But you find a way to keep goin’. Life doesn’t stop, even when you wish it would."

His words linger in the air, stark and unvarnished, and you feel the ache in them like a bruise pressed too hard. There’s no bitterness in his tone, no anger—just a quiet resignation, a weariness that feels like it’s etched into his very being. You wonder how often he’s spoken these words, if at all, or if he’s kept them locked away until now. Your gaze drifts to his hands—strong, calloused, and steady even now, despite the weight he carries. You reach out before you can think better of it, your fingers brushing against his forearm in a gesture that feels both small and monumental. "I can’t imagine," you say softly, your words feeling inadequate but heartfelt. "I’m sorry you had to go through that."

Joel looks down at your hand, his gaze lingering there for a moment before he lifts his eyes to meet yours. There’s something in his expression that makes your breath catch—a flicker of gratitude, of recognition, and something else you can’t quite name. "Thank you," he says simply, his voice rough but sincere. He shifts slightly, covering your hand with his own. The warmth of his touch is startling, grounding, and you’re acutely aware of how solid he feels, how present. "For listening," he continues, his voice softening. "I don’t... I don’t talk about Sarah much. It’s hard, you know?" His eyes hold yours, and you see the weight of the years he’s carried this pain, the quiet strength it’s taken to keep moving forward.

You nod, unable to look away. "I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for," you say quietly, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. "Just... holding onto her memory like that. Letting her still be a part of you."

His brow furrows slightly, his gaze searching yours as if he’s trying to decide whether to accept your words. "Don’t feel strong most days," he admits after a pause, his voice so low you almost miss it. "Just feel tired."

The honesty in his words makes your chest tighten, and you press your hand against his arm just a little more firmly, as if to anchor him. "Maybe that’s what strength is," you offer, your voice soft but unwavering. "Getting up every day, even when it feels impossible. Carrying her with you, even when it hurts."

Joel doesn’t respond immediately, but you see something shift in his expression—something almost imperceptible but deeply significant. He exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, and when he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before. "Maybe," he murmurs, the word more of a concession than a conviction.For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The silence is heavy but not uncomfortable, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. You let it linger, sensing that Joel needs this space, this moment of quiet connection. When he finally releases your hand, moving his arm slightly, the warmth of his skin lingers, a quiet reminder of the moment you’ve shared. "Thank you darlin’," he says again, his voice steady but soft. There’s something in his eyes now—something lighter, as if the act of sharing, of being heard, has eased the weight he carries, if only a little. "Means more than you know."

—-------

As you prepare to settle onto the couch for the night, the creak of the wooden floor under Joel’s boots pulls your attention. Before you can process what’s happening, he’s beside you, scooping you into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his hands against you and the solid strength of his hold leave you momentarily breathless.

"What are you doing?" you protest weakly, though your body betrays you by instinctively wrapping an arm around his shoulders for balance.

He doesn’t stop moving, his tone gruff but resolute. "Takin’ you to your room. You’ll be more comfortable there, and it’s about time you used it again." You start to protest again, murmuring something about being too heavy, but he only huffs. "You think this is the first time I’ve carried someone? You’re fine. Quit fussin’."

Before you know it, he’s carrying you up the stairs, each step steady and sure despite the burden you’re sure you must be. The faint scent of leather and woodsmoke clings to him, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. When he reaches the top, the hallway stretches ahead, dimly lit and quiet except for the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots.

Your bedroom door creaks as he nudges it open with his foot. The room feels foreign, almost untouched since your injuries—a time capsule of your life before everything fell apart. Joel sets you down on the bed with a gentleness that belies his rough exterior, his hands lingering briefly to ensure you’re steady before he pulls away.

"There," he says, adjusting the covers around you with meticulous care that makes your chest ache. "Now you get some rest. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything."

You watch him turn, the broad slope of his shoulders framed by the faint hallway light. A sudden unease wells up in your chest, irrational and overwhelming. The thought of being alone in this room, in this moment, feels unbearable. The words leave your lips before you can stop them.

"Joel, wait."

He stops in the doorway, his silhouette pausing against the light. "What is it, darlin’?" His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it.

Your fingers grip the edge of the blanket as you force yourself to speak. "Could you... stay? Just for a little while. Until I fall asleep."

For a moment, he’s quiet, the furrow of his brow barely visible in the shadows. He looks at you like he’s weighing something heavy, something he’s not sure he can carry. But then he nods, his voice softer when he speaks. "Yeah. I can do that."

He grabs a chair from the corner of the room, pulling it close to the bed and settling into it with a quiet sigh. The room feels smaller now, his presence filling the space in a way that should be comforting, and yet... you feel the weight of it pressing against you.

Joel sits silently, his hands resting on his knees, the flickering light from the bedside lamp casting deep shadows across his face. His gaze flicks toward you occasionally, careful and guarded, as if afraid to linger too long. You watch him through half-closed eyes, noting the subtle lines etched into his features—lines of exhaustion, loss, and something else you can’t quite place. There’s a tension in his posture, a quiet restraint that makes your chest tighten.

"Joel," you say softly, the quiet sound of his name pulling his gaze to yours. He raises an eyebrow, waiting, but the words you wanted to say catch in your throat. What could you even say? Thank him for his kindness? For caring when you’d tried so hard to convince yourself you didn’t need it. Instead, you settle on something you instantly regret. "You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ll be fine."

His expression shifts, the corners of his mouth tightening ever so slightly. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, but when he does, his voice is quieter, almost unreadable. "If that’s what you want."

You open your mouth to correct yourself, to say something that might soften the blow, but the words don’t come. Joel stands, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to change your mind. You don’t.

"Goodnight, then," he says, his tone even, though there’s a weight behind the words that you can’t ignore. Joel stands, the chair groaning slightly as he pushes it back. He doesn’t move hurriedly, but there’s a deliberateness in his movements that makes your chest tighten. The air between you feels heavier, laced with something unspoken, something you’re not ready to name. And then he’s gone. You stare at the ceiling, your heart heavy with regret, the words you wish you’d said echoing in your mind.

"Stay. Please stay."

But you didn’t. Instead, you let him walk away, the distance between you growing not just physically but emotionally. The warmth of his presence lingers faintly, like the scent of his leather and woodsmoke, but it isn’t enough to fill the void. The ache in your ribs pales in comparison to the one in your chest. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, what was this feeling that had taken root inside you? It wasn’t just gratitude anymore—it was something else, something harder to define. You’d always prided yourself on not needing anyone, but Joel had a way of making that wall crumble, brick by brick. It was confusing. Maybe you were reading too much into it. Or maybe... maybe you were just afraid to hope again. But the way he’d left, the quiet disappointment in his eyes—it made you feel small, stupid even. What were you so afraid of? You hated yourself for pushing him away when all he’d ever done was try to be there for you. But it was too late now. The door was closed, and so, it seemed, was he.

The room is dark, save for the faint glow of the moonlight spilling in through the curtains. You hadn’t noticed Joel still standing there, silent as a shadow. He lingers by the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. He’s watching you, his brow furrowed, torn between staying and leaving.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” he mutters, more to himself than you.

You turn your head slightly, startled. You thought he'd left. His gaze meets yours for a moment, but the weight of it is too much to hold. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’m fine,” you say, your voice tight and unconvincing.

Joel lets out a low scoff, shaking his head. “Fine,” he repeats bitterly. “That your favorite word or somethin’?” His boots barely make a sound as he crosses the room, sitting back down on the chair beside your bed. His presence is overwhelming, filling the small space like a storm cloud about to break. You feel the heat of him, as you try to keep your breathing steady. “I know what you're doin',” he says quietly, his tone softer now. “Pushin' me away. But you don’t have to.”

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay put. His words are gentle, but they cut deep, peeling back the layers you worked so hard to hide behind. You struggle for words, your breath uneven. "I... I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Letting someone—letting you—"

"You don’t have to know," he says quietly. "You just gotta let me in."

His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it now, like he's fighting against his own limits, his patience fraying. You want to reach for him, to let yourself lean into him, but the weight of your own walls is too heavy. You want to let go, but something inside you holds you back, paralyzes you with fear. Fear of what letting him in might mean. Your throat tightens as you try to form the words, but nothing comes. His gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t push you—he waits. The tension hangs thick in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. But the longer he waits, the more it seems like he’s losing the battle inside himself.

You finally meet his eyes again, but it’s like something’s shifted. There’s still care there, but it’s mixed with frustration, something raw and real. He stands, his movements slow but resolute. "You can’t keep doing this," he says, his voice low but intense. "I can’t keep doing this. You want me to stay, and then... then you push me away.”

His words strike you like a physical blow, the sting of truth cutting through the silence. You don’t know what to say, your heart pounding in your chest, but nothing feels right. The space between you is growing, and you’re helpless to stop it.

The chair scrapes against the floor as he moves it back, the sound harsh in the heavy silence. His words strike you like a physical blow, the sting of truth cutting through the silence. You don’t know what to say, your heart pounding in your chest, but nothing feels right. The space between you is growing, and you’re helpless to stop it.

He moves toward the door, the floor creaking beneath his boots, and you want to scream—to tell him to stay, to tell him you’re not fine, but the words are lodged in your throat, like you’re choking on your own fear.

You sit up in bed, your breath shallow, but you don’t call out. You don’t stop him.

Joel pauses at the doorway, his back to you. For a long moment, it seems like he might turn around, like he might say something else, something to bridge the gap between you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his shoulders stiff, his head slightly bowed as though he’s already made his peace with walking away.

Finally, his voice breaks the silence. "You need anything, you holler. I’ll hear ya."

And then the door clicks softly shut behind him.

You sit there, staring at the empty space where he was, the weight of his words still pressing down on you. Your fingers curl around the blanket, but it offers no comfort. Your mind races, a mess of emotions, regret, and frustration. You want to call him back, but it feels like it’s too late.

The room is silent once more, and the emptiness is suffocating. You close your eyes, your chest aching, and for the first time in a long while, you realize how alone you truly are..

Joel

The soft glow of the kitchen light spills across the empty room as Joel leans against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee he doesn’t really want or need at this hour. He stares into the dark liquid, his thoughts elsewhere, running over the events of the evening like a song stuck on repeat.

He shouldn’t feel disappointed. You’d made it clear you didn’t want him there, and he respected that. Hell, he’d been in your shoes before—pushing people away because it felt safer. He couldn’t blame you for it. But that didn’t make the sting of it any easier to shake.

Joel sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He’d seen the hesitation in your eyes, the conflict. He’d wanted to tell you it was okay, that he’d wait as long as you needed. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure how long he could wait. Every moment he spent with you, every quiet exchange and fleeting touch—it all felt like it was building toward something he wasn’t sure either of you were ready for. "Should’ve known better," he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hum of the fridge. But even as he says it, he knows he’d do it all over again—because for you, he would wait.

The coffee in Joel’s mug has gone cold by the time he finally pushes himself off the counter and trudges to the living room. He sits heavily on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the darkened television screen. Sleep isn’t coming—not after the way the evening ended.

He rubs a hand down his face, trying to shake off the frustration welling in his chest. It wasn’t your fault, not really. Joel knows that better than anyone. But the way you’d looked at him, the way you’d pulled back, it felt like a door slamming shut in his face. Like he was stupid for even hoping.

“Should’ve just stayed downstairs, fuck sakes,” he mutters to himself. He knows better than to get too close, to expect anything. It’s not fair to you, not when you’ve got enough to deal with. And yet, here he is, hoping like a damn fool.

The faint creak of the floor above reminds him you’re still there, probably lying awake just like he is. Joel shakes his head, dragging a heavy quilt over himself as he stretches out on the couch. Tomorrow, he decides, he’ll keep his distance. Let you come to him if you want.

But the hollow ache in his chest says that might never happen.

—

The next morning the shutting of the door pulls Joel from a restless sleep. He stretches, his back protesting the hours spent on the couch, and grumbles as he sits up. The smell of coffee drifts through the house, but it’s faint—like someone turned the pot off before it finished brewing. Joel frowns. He knows you’re still stiff from your injuries, and the thought of you moving around too much sets him on edge. He stands, rubbing a hand over his face, and heads toward the kitchen.

The sight of the empty space only deepens his unease. The coffee pot is half-full, a mug sitting beside it untouched. He glances out the window, his gut twisting when he spots you trudging toward the barn, determination in every step.

“What the hell are you doin’ now?” he mutters, already grabbing his jacket as he steps outside.

The morning air bites at his skin, but Joel barely notices as he closes the distance to the barn. By the time he reaches the open doors, you’re already climbing onto the tractor, one hand on the seat and the other gripping the wheel.

“Hey!” Joel’s voice echoes sharply in the quiet.

You freeze, your head whipping around to face him. “What?” you ask, your voice defensive, though there’s a flicker of guilt in your eyes.

Joel’s chest tightens, but he doesn’t let it show. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

Your brow furrows, and you straighten your shoulders, your stubbornness flaring to life. “I’m trying to help. You’ve been doing everything, and I thought—”

“You thought wrong.” His tone is sharper than he intends, but the sight of you on the tractor—the very image of Sarah in her last moments—sends a cold wave of fear crashing over him.

You bristle at his words, swinging your legs over the side of the tractor to face him fully. “Excuse me? I’m not a kid, Joel. I can handle this.”

“No, you can’t,” he snaps, his voice louder now. “You don’t even know how to work that damn thing, and you’re in no shape to be tryin’!”

Your eyes narrow, hurt flashing across your face before you mask it with anger. “I’m just trying to pull my weight, Joel. I’m not some burden you have to carry! And yes I can fucking drive the tractor.”

Joel steps closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think this is about you bein’ a burden? Dammit, I don’t care about that! I care about you not gettin’ yourself killed because you’re too damn stubborn to listen!”

The words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. Joel’s breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling as he fights to keep the memories at bay. Sarah’s laughter, the hum of the tractor’s engine, the sickening sound of it tipping over—it’s all there, clawing at the edges of his mind.

But he doesn’t tell you. He can’t.

Instead, he swallows hard and steps back, his jaw tightening. “Just… don’t do this,” he says, his voice quieter but no less firm.

You stare at him, confusion and hurt written all over your face. “Why are you acting like this?” you ask, your tone softer now, but Joel shakes his head.

Joel’s chest tightens, and the fight in his voice only deepens. “Doesn’t matter,” he mutters, but you’re not about to let him brush this off.

“Why the hell not?” You step off the tractor, your foot hitting the ground with a thud, your breath a sharp inhale from the pain and ragged in the cold air. “You’re acting like I’m a damn liability—like I can’t handle myself. You think I want to sit around doing nothing while you work yourself to the bone?”

Joel shakes his head, his eyes dark with frustration. “That ain’t it, and you know it. You think I want to be overprotective? You think I don’t see you fightin’ through every goddamn thing just to prove you’re not weak? I get it, alright? But this—this isn’t the way to do it.”

“You don’t get it,” you snap back, your voice growing more desperate. “I don’t need your pity, Joel. I don’t need you to hold my hand or protect me like I’m some fragile thing you have to save. I’m fine. I can do this.”

“You’re not fine!” Joel’s voice cracks, his patience running thin, and the raw emotion behind it makes you pause, your anger faltering for just a second. He steps closer to you, his face inches away. “You’re not fine, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch you hurt yourself just because you’re too damn proud to accept help.”

Your ribs ache as you take a step back, your hands trembling at your sides. His words, his proximity—they feel like they’re suffocating you, pulling you into a place you don’t want to go. But you can’t stop yourself. “I don’t need help,” you mutter, though the words come out unconvincing, jagged.

Joel’s gaze softens, and for a brief moment, it’s like you’re both standing in some kind of fragile truce. But it doesn’t last. The distance between you, emotional and physical, feels too heavy to bear, and Joel moves in again. His voice is quieter now, but there’s a deep, aching sincerity in it. “I don’t want you to need help. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening with something you don’t know how to name. It’s the space between your stubbornness and his care, the tension of wanting to push him away but knowing deep down that you can’t. You want to break, to let go, but you won’t—can’t—show him how much you’re falling apart.

You both stand there in the cold, the world around you feeling distant, like it’s no longer real. And then, before you can stop yourself, you say something that takes both of you by surprise. “Why do you care so damn much?” Your voice cracks as you finally let the wall down, the question raw and vulnerable.

Joel’s eyes darken, his breath catching at the depth of the question. He looks at you, really looks at you, and there’s a long silence that stretches between you, thick with everything unspoken. Then, his lips curl slightly, the ghost of a sad smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’ve been where you are,” he says, his voice low. “I’ve lost too much. And I’m not gonna lose anyone else... not like this.”

You don’t know what to say to that. For a moment, your anger falters, replaced with something deeper, something you can’t hide anymore.

Before you realize what’s happening, you’re the one reaching for him, your good hand finding his shirt, pulling him toward you. He hesitates for a second—his body tense, unsure—but then he moves, just like you knew he would. The kiss is sudden, urgent, and the world tilts with it. Your ribs protest, but you don’t care. His hands cradle your face, his lips pressing against yours, rough but soft, like he’s trying to steady himself just as much as you are.

Your heart races in your chest, the ache in your ribs fading as the heat of him seeps into your skin. For a brief, fleeting moment, everything else stops. The fight, the stubbornness, the fear—it all disappears in the space between your mouths. It’s like he’s holding you together, like you’re finally letting him do the one thing he’s been begging you for - to let him in.

When you break away, it’s slow, your breath ragged, but neither of you moves far. You’re still close—too close—and yet, somehow, it feels right. Joel’s forehead rests against yours, his breath warm on your skin. He doesn’t speak at first, just keeps you there, close enough to feel the weight of his every breath. Finally, he whispers, his voice hoarse. “You’re not alone, you know that?”

You nod, the words too hard to say, but the truth of them sits heavy between you. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you believe it.

Taglist @akah565 @anoverwhelmingdin @brittmb115 @hannah9921 @maried01

@mermaidgirl30 @red-red-rogue @wintersquirrel

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction

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fr3sh-tragedies · 4 months ago

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Artistic S/O Headcanons

[Inside Out 2] Valentina [Val] Ortiz x Female Reader

Summary: General and romantic headcanons for Val with an artistic female S/O.

Word Count: 1.19k Content + Warnings: None Category: Fluff || Headcanons

[A/N]: This was fun to write! I included general artist stuff like sketching and painting, but I also included Reader being a musical artist and if Reader likes to write.

Enjoy!

Personally, I like to think that Val has an artistic side herself

Whenever she’s not practicing or training for hockey, she’s curled up somewhere sketching or painting whatever comes to mind

I like to think she’s a pretty decent artist too

So when she learns that her S/O is also into art, she’s thrilled

She’ll come to you most of the time for advice or ideas on a piece, especially if you’re at a higher skill level than she is

Sometimes there’ll be days where you’re hanging out alone together and just sitting close to each other while you both draw

If she isn’t in the mood to sketch or paint, or if she just doesn’t have any ideas, she’ll either lean against your shoulder to watch you work, or she’ll settle behind you and pull your back into her chest so she can hold you

When in the latter position, her arms will rest comfortably around your waist without getting in the way and her head will plant itself gently against your shoulder so she can peer over and watch you work

She’ll throw in plenty of compliments here and there about whatever it is you’re working on

If you’re looking for inspiration or encouragement, she’ll provide it for you somehow

If you like to sketch people and she sees that you’ve drawn her, she’ll get uncharacteristically sheepish, telling you that you made her look so good in your style and that she feels honored you chose her as your model

Definitely likes to do that challenge where you trade off drawings every five minutes and add something random to it until it’s a finished piece

I can either see her as having a really loose, relaxed style, or a unique abstract style where she focuses more on the angular sides of things

Regardless of her own style, she 100% likes to doodle you from time to time, especially if you’re nearby and she can use you for reference instead of going based off of memory

If she doesn’t draw or anything, then she’ll happily ask you to give her quick lessons here and there

Though, most of the time she just stares lovingly at you, adoring how passionate you are about your craft and how easily you can explain things to her (even if she’s not necessarily listening)

If you don’t have your sketchbook or anything solid to draw on, she’ll offer you one of her arms and a few pens or markers so you can doodle something random on her skin

She likes the feeling of you holding her arm so still and tracing random patterns or shapes against her skin, and she often gets lost in a daze just watching you draw on her

When you finish, she’ll keep her sleeves rolled up. Partially to let the ink dry, but mainly to show off what you’ve drawn on her

Not sure if she’d be the type to get tattoos, but if she ever did get one, she would go to you immediately to help her design one

If you ever enter your pieces into competitions or shows for school or otherwise, she’s going to be your #1 supporter the entire time. Even if you don’t get first place, she’s cheering you on and offering you every ounce of encouragement she has in her body

You’re always there to cheer her on during her hockey matches, so she likes to return the favor, even if it’s just a small competition

If you ever open commissions, she’s the first one to buy one from you, and she’ll continue to buy one from you at least once or twice a month

She’ll bring it up to her team and gladly show off your work, telling them you’re open for commissions

They all also buy a piece from you each time, wanting to support you almost as much as Val does herself

Her teammates adore you with all of their hearts, and they love how happy you make Val, so they want to return the favor and let you know that they admire and appreciate you

Val absolutely spam-likes your posts if you have an art account. That, and she’ll post each and every one on her story with compliments (as well as lowkey bragging that she has such a creative and talented girlfriend)

Will 100% pose or model for you if you want her to, though she’ll crack plenty of flirty jokes throughout your process, wanting to see you smile as you work

If you’re just wanting to have a chill session where you’re just drawing (separately or together), she’ll put on music in the background, occasionally singing along with it if she knows it

Speaking of music:

If you’re more of a musical artist, she’s absolutely wanting to listen to whatever you make, even if it’s just something as simple as a beat

If you play any instruments or sing, she’s sitting right by your side or holding you from behind as she listens to you play or sing

I can see her having a pretty voice, so if she were to ever sing with you, she’d likely make harmonies or duets sounds great

Definitely listens to any music you make and will support you all the way if you choose to try and make it into a career

There’ll definitely be mini concerts in the kitchen or while listening to music together while cleaning the place, and she always makes sure you know just how beautiful your voice is

She’ll help you come up with lyrics or melodies if you need it

To make sure you know she’s being genuine with her support, she’ll throw in specific things she likes about your art, musical or not, so it doesn’t sound like a vague, generic compliment

She’d compliment how bold your strokes are when painting or sketching, how specific features of a face or item you doodle look stunning, how captivating the color palette you chose is, etc.

She’d also compliment how smooth your voice is if you’re singing, how catchy the melody you came up with is, how the chords you chose match the tone of the song perfectly, and so on and so forth

If you like to write stories, she’s reading each one the moment you tell her she can

Writing a book? She’s there whenever you need help coming up with a scene or a plot point

Typing up a random short story to get the creative juices flowing? She’s listing out potential names for characters and describing things that could catch the reader’s attention

She’ll help you develop your own writing style over time and will celebrate every little victory with you, even if it’s something as simple as finishing a chapter or scene you were struggling with

Overall, she’s an incredibly supportive girlfriend to her artistic S/O, and she absolutely wants everyone to know just how incredibly talented you are. She joins in regardless of how good she is at drawing, painting, sculpting, singing, making music, writing, etc. because she loves making sure you know that she’s just as passionate about your interests as you are

#fluff #x reader #female reader #inside out 2 #valentina ortiz #val ortiz #val ortiz x reader #val ortiz x female reader #valentina ortiz x reader #valentina ortiz x female reader #inside out val

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dbnightingale24 · 1 year ago

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Getting Lost In The Silence With You

An Emmett Lovestory

Surprise, and Happy Halloween!!

I just wanted to make something fluffy and loving, since I'm always giving you guys angst and despair 🙃 anywho, I hope you all enjoy this little story, I hope you're enjoying one of the best days ever, and please be safe! As always, thank you to @fuckingbyefor the amazing moldboard, and for just existing. Alright, enough of my rambling, enjoy!

Like always, Tumblr is on it's bullshit, so I'm only gonna post part of it here, and leave the link to my AO3 if you wanna read all of it.

Word Count: 15,618

Warnings: SMUT (18+ Minors DNI), Swearing, Drinking, Heartbreak, Dealing with Loss, FLUFF, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Self Doubt, A Bit of Self Loathing, uhh...I think that's it?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: You Are The One I Waited For, I Knew It All Along

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere.

You keep your giggles quiet as you feel something tickling your toes.

Emmett.

‘Happy birthday,’ he smiles down at you after your eyes finally open.

This has been routine for the past three years now, and you can’t help but smile at the fact that you and Emmett have had each other to lean on. You wonder how something so beautiful came from such an ugly turn of events.

When Emmett found you, you were both wary of one another. He hadn’t meant to find you, and you hadn’t meant to find him. He stumbled across where you’d been hiding, searching for materials to stock up on. The second he found you hiding, you both pulled your guns on one another. While you were more than sure that he could see the fear in your eyes, you saw the emptiness and despair in his. Yet the longer he looked at you and the more you shook, the softer his features became.

He held a finger against his lips, a sign for you to be quiet, and slowly led you out of the closet. You warily grabbed the few of the things you had and followed him. You’re not sure why you followed him to this day.

“What were you doing there?” he asked softly, once you two had reached where he was hiding out, putting away the few supplies he was able to scrounge up on his trip.

“The same thing everyone else who’s alive is trying to do. Hiding.”

“That’s a terrible hiding spot.”

“It worked out just fine for me for the last two months.”

“Are you alone?”

Silence.

He turned around to see you standing there, eyes watering as you tried to look anywhere but at him.

You’d been alone for a year at the time. There hadn’t been anyone you’d confided in, and you didn’t find yourself wanting to know anyone. The last person in life died in your arms and you’d decided to keep to yourself from then on out. It just felt like the best idea; the safest in this world surrounded by danger.

“I don’t mean to be harsh, you just...that spot was dangerous. Even more so if you’re alone. Have a seat. Have you eaten today?”

“Don’t eat much,” you mumbled, taking a seat at his table, looking around the empty space. “I don’t hunt unless I have to.”

“I’ll get you something, just sit tight,” he told you softly.

You looked around and saw the different drawings, a few pictures, and wondered how long it’d been since he lost everyone.

“Th-thank you,” you told him softly, pulling out a bottle of wine and setting it on the table.

Seemed like a pretty decent peace offering.

“Where the hell did you get that?” he half smiled, coming over and picking up the bottle in admiration.

“Some of it’s self made, others are from...before.”

“How old are you?”

“What’s the date?”

“October 31st.”

You smiled and shook your head, wiping away a few tears, “I’m 27 today.”

He offered a sympathetic smile, “happy birthday.”

And that’s how it started. You never intended on staying with him, and you’re more than sure he never meant to let you stay, but you both soon found that you enjoyed the company of each another. It’d been a long time since either of you had people in your lives, and it just felt nice to have someone around.

Even if you two didn’t say much to each other for the first few months.

Every once in a while, he’d hear you crying and sit by you, softly placing his hand over yours and you’d squeeze it softly. Other times, he’d have restless nights, tossing and turning for hours, and you’d just sit by him and take his hand until he felt at ease. In exchange of him getting food, you taught him how to make his own wine and vodka. You would share books, and every now and again you’d both go to the nearby falls together just to hear something.

This stayed a constant for months until he found you listening to your iPhone one day.

“How do you still have one of those?” he marveled, putting a plate of venison in front of you.

Deer was his specialty.

“My best friend figured out to make a battery one night,” you laughed softly. “She was drunk as shit, but real determined to make it work. She refused to lose all of the comforts from the way things used to be. It was the last gift she ever gave me. I’m not the best when it comes to things like that, so I try not to use it often. I don’t wanna end up breaking it and being fucked,” you finished with a scoff as you pressed ‘pause’ and set it aside.

“What’s special about today?”

“It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Explains why it’s so damn cold,” he muttered, and you laughed softly. “Anything good on there?”

“Depends on what your definition of good is,” you smirked, pouring the both of you a cup of wine. “Being a Jersey girl, there’s a lot of Springsteen on there-”

“You’re from Jersey?” he questioned before he realized he cut you off, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“No, it’s okay. We’ve never talked about it. Um yeah, I was born and raised in New Jersey. My parents moved to Millbrook after I went off to college. I was here visiting when...when everything happened. Got stuck,” you chuckled humorlessly. “At least I don’t have to worry about paying off my college loans,” you muttered as you cut up your deer and Emmett laughed.

It was the first time you’d actually heard him laugh.

You can read the rest here.

taglist: @autumnrose40

#fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfiction #A Quiet Place 2 #A Quiet Place II #Emmett #emmett x reader #emmett x you #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy characters #Emmett x Y/N

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snexy-the-snail · 9 months ago

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I love how soft your writing is! Reading one of your stories is like curling up in a blanket :3 I don’t know much about Percy Jackson but I have writing prompt/one shot idea if you’re up to it!

Percy ends up coming down with like the flu or something and Triton, who’s unfamiliar with human sicknesses, ends up freaking out thinking it’s something serious. He has the overwhelming urge to take care of his sick brother, and goes into super soft and gentle big brother mode and ends up nomming him and fussing over his well being. Meanwhile Percy is like “dude I’m not dying I promise” XD

AHHHH Thank you so much!??? ANd ABSOLUTELY I am always up for prompts-

And yesses this is the easiest because Triton A. doesn’t go on land very often meaning the last time her heard of the flu it was genuinely a huge ass threat, it doesn’t help that Percy can be a big baby about being sick-

I just love the sea fam all adoring Percy like it’s legit an addiction at this point))

Percy groans laying on a bench, sniffling in misery. He hated getting sick, water didn’t technically take it all away even if it did make him feel a little better. Having said that this headache was absolutely killing him. “I’m dying” he whines, scowling when Annabeth laughs lightly, sitting by a tree working on some architect designs. “I told you to go lay in your cabin seaweed brain.” She teases Percy squeezing his eyes shut trying to ignore the scratches of pencil on paper.

“Ugh but that means leaving you alone.” He grumbles, coughing heavily causing him to groan again. “I need like- like mom’s cookies and some orange juice.” he cracks his eyes open to look at his girlfriend, huffing when she hums not even looking up from her drawing pad. “Do you even care that I’m dying?”

“You’re WHAT!? Why haven’t you been taking to your healers? Perseus! We talked about caring for yourself!”

Percy yelps falling off the bench groaning when he hits the ground. “Oh-ah..hey Triton?” He says clearing his throat before practically hacking up a lung. He winces knowing that he wasn’t exactly going to be let out of his brother's sight for a decent time. “Don’t you ‘Hey Triton’ me! You are dying and you’re- UGH You’re infuriating!” Percy isn’t too surprised to feel hands sitting him up, humming at the chill from the god’s hands. He forgot how cold Triton was and it was blissful.

“I told him to go to the med bay.” Annabeth pipes up, finally looking up from her sketch pad. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Oh. Oh, she had totally planned this hadn’t, see? Staying quiet to keep him complaining- “You’re despicable wise girl.” He hisses out.

Triton made a noise that Percy knew meant he was about to be totted around like a helpless toddler. “Wait! Wait, I’m not dying I’m actually fine- haha right? Just a little cold right Annabeth?” he hisses out looking pointedly at his girlfriend. He can’t help but relax more as Triton tucks him more against his body, the coolness of the god nearly making him melt. Deep sea coldness was bliss when you were sick, who knew?

“I don’t know Lord Triton, you heard him, he’s dying.” Annabeth says sweetly, glancing at Percy with a smirk. He groans knowing fully that he is going to be smothered for the next few hours. Triton makes that weird, strangling noise again, causing him to roll his eyes as he was picked up like a tired toddler. It was slightly nice, not that he would ever admit it.

“Not dying!”

“You’re practically burning up! Why haven’t you- brother we spoke about this." Triton groans, holding Percy close to his chest. Percy letting out a low breath as his brother started walking towards the water. “Get better soon Percy.” Annabeth calls cheerfully.

Jerk. He’d get his revenge.

“The water isn’t gonna help I already tried that.” Percy grumbles closing his eyes as he leans more against his brother. The coolness was combating the fever he had been sporting for a few hours now. He swore it even was making his headache ease up. His nose wrinkles up when Triton stops suddenly causing him to let out a small whine. It was embarrassing being so- well childish near the god, but Triton never seemed to mind. The god let an apologetic murmur out, a hand running through his hair lightly tugging out any tangles.

“Of course you have... What ails you little brother?”

“Just the flu”

Percy yelps when he's suddenly set down, his brother putting his hands on both his cheeks and staring at him intently with horror. “You hAVE WHAT!? Pereus! This is serious! Why haven’t you been in bed or resting- brother why haven’t you come to the palace for our healers!”

Well..that was new. Percy hadn’t expected Triton to be this worried. “Woah, woah hey! It’s alright I promise I’ve had it before.” He says patting his brother’s hands, holding in a round of coughing. He had a feeling that wouldn’t help his case. “That brings me no comfort little brother. This Influenza is a dangerous matter, I have seen its effects.” Triton’s tone was seriously starting to freak him out. This was as bad as the time he got back from Tartarus. He swore Poseidon hadn’t technically left him alone for a hot second.

“It’s different now, it's like- ah more inconvenience than anything I promise.” Percy offers his half-brother a reassuring smile, grabbing the God’s hands and taking them from his cheeks. Yeah, no that felt worse- he quickly put his brothers' hands back on his face humming at gentle coolness. “How it is simply an inconvenience if you are positively burning up.” Triton fusses, once again scooping him up into his arms. At this point he was too tired to care and honestly it was nice having someone other than his mother to soothe him. “Don’t take me to dad please I just... I feel like I'd be better up here.” He grumbles instead closing his eyes,

Triton sighed heavily and they were moving again. The blissful coolness of his brother’s body soothing his fever. He hums quietly pressing closer against his brother, tucking his head in the crook of the god’s neck.

“You truly have no concept of calling for aid, do you?”

“It’s just a cold.”

“And last time it was just a few monsters, or just a nightmare, it’s always just something Perseus.” Triton looks down at him with concern, Percy grimacing and ducking his face further into the crook of his brother’s neck. It was different with his mom; he didn't lie to her per say but..he left a few details out. She wouldn’t understand. Not truly.

“Because it’s nothing, I can get through it I always do.” He mumbles, relaxing once Triton steps into the cabin. The sea salt air washing over him in a soothing matter. The fountain in the middle expands drastically until it’s more of a small swimming pool. Triton steps in, his arms still wrapping around his body protectively.

“You aren’t anymore.”

That stung. He stays quiet until he dissolves into a wave of coughing, pushing back slightly from Triton, wheezing as he tried to get some air into his lung after the fit. Hands press into his back rubbing soothing circles, his brother murmuring something in Atlantean. “Let us take care of you now that we’re allowed little brother.” Percy bites his lip, trying to sink lower into the water to avoid any eye contact with the God. Allowed too was a funny thought. They hadn’t been allowed too, not at first. Less for Amphitrite and Triton but they hadn’t been his biggest fans until his little trip to Atlantis. Something about him screaming in his sleep and wailing.

Embarrassing stuff to sum up. Things he had tried so hard to hide from everyone else but for some reason stubbornly came to the surface when at Atlantis. He winces when Triton tilts his chin up forcing him to look into the God’s eyes. He always felt so small in any of the sea family’s presence...didn’t help that half the time they were physically larger.

“I’m fine Triton, I promise.” He ignores how his voice cracks. Relief floods his system when the god lets an annoyed sigh out before guiding him closer, the water cooling down as he did so. It had no right to feel as good as it did. Percy practically collapsed against his half-brother struggling to keep his eyes open. A hand starts carding through his hair, brushing strands away from his face. “Little brother...you look nowhere near ‘fine’ right now..please cease your stubbornness for even just a minute.”

He would've stuck his tongue out in protest but being in cool water combined was making him sleepy, not only that he was sure Triton was going to make sure that he stayed laying down. Instead, he stubbornly stayed quiet, keeping his eyes closed as he focused on the blissful chill the water and his brother brought.

“You’re merely a child...so rest. You’ve done so much for the world, allow yourself to rest little brother.”

Percy decided to not comment on the fact he was being shifted in a very suspicious manner that most likely meant that Triton was getting to his godly height. He whines when the support shifts from leaning a glint his brother's body to just what he was guessing was his brother’s hand. Ugh that totally meant he was getting one ticket to tummy town then.

Triton apparently took this as compliance because the next thing he knew he was being lifted up into the air, water trickling down into the fountain turned pool. He lets a tired breath out letting his body be guided, his feet pressing into a chill that started to envelope his body. He cracks his eyes open, huffing as he his legs slowly

passed between his brother’s teeth. They were less shark like than usual which was odd..ugh he’d ask later his vision was blurring just from thinking now. Lazily he sticks his arms up as Triton swallows firmly his legs being drawn into his throat. A small whine draws from him, Percy a tad surprised to get a croon back. The vibrations tickled him as the noise washed over his senses.

He closes his eyes against mischievously patting triton’s upper lip, smiling victoriously as he feels it twitch upwards. Ha! At least he wouldn’t have to deal with serious Triton after this whole thing. He lets a breath out mentally preparing himself as Triton swallowed again, the sound rolling over him as he’s sucked inside his brother’s mouth. He knew if he opened his eyes a soft glow would great him but..he couldn’t stand the idea of opening his eyes now.

Maybe it would be nice to just..rest. The muscles roll over him invitingly pulling his body further down. The rhythmic pulling further relaxed his body. When was the last time this week he had actually gotten rest? If he wasn’t currently being supported by the surrounding environment, he was sure his head would roll to the side. His feet hit open air, and soon he plops inside the larger chamber. A small breath escapes him as his lungs are free from the firm pressure of muscle. It was still gross he decided but...the chill and rippling of plush stomach walls was oddly inviting.

“Rest little brother, there is no reason for you to not. Your friends and betrothed are safe...there are no fights to be won, just rest.”

Triton’s voice is soothing like waves on the shore. The image of water gently rolling across the sandy beaches helpfully dancing in his mind. It wasn’t like Triton was wrong either, everyone was at their camps safe..there wasn’t a battle to prepare for it was just...Quiet.

“She’s, my girlfriend.” He mumbles in protest, scowling when a chuckle slides him around gently in a swaying motion. They had the argument multiple times, and he could practically see the fond smile on Triton’s face.

“Yes yes, your girlfriend.” His brother appeases him. Percy snorting and leaning against the welcome touch of his brother’s hand through layers of muscle. The familiar circular motion making him hum, trying not to fall asleep right there and then. Things started to blur together, more so when Triton, the bastard, started humming an old Atlantean lullaby that seemed vaguely familiar.

Oh well sleep would be good for being sick...

#safe vore #asks are good #pjo vore #extreme cuddling #protective vore #comfort vore #endosoma

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spiderprincess-suffet · 7 months ago

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I way not be able to draw stuff for my au rn but I can make text posts! Sooo

KIDS PROBLEMS - AN AU EXPLANATION

In my au the Mansion acts more as a base of sorts Slender lives in it full time and has rooms for all his proxies but the proxies themselves don’t HAVE to live there and most actually choose not to instead opting to live all over the place Some stay in midrelm some live in normal town’s city’s abandoned houses non abandoned houses some live on the road and in their cars and many more places.

A lot of proxies also come from bad childhoods and are often nicer to the younger proxies because of this, many of the adult proxies find themselves adopting or simply just looking after the kiddie pastas as even tho they could leave them unattended they often know from experience how badly that can fuck a kid up just leaving them to fend for themselves in this sort of environment.

While yes most proxies try to give these kids somewhat decent lives all these characters have issues and these issues like it or not can have an affect on the children they look after.

So heres a post explaining SOME of the aus characters and what their problems are.

Sally: Sally is actually quite confident and okay with her past she used to see what happened as something to be ashamed of like she deserved it and as a result it made her hate her own body constantly covering up never accepting the idea of crushes or anything remotely romantic, but as she got older and after she fell under the care of Kate she began working out those issues accepting that what happened was bad but not her fault, she’s now a lot more confident she’s not afraid to wear more revealing things like tank tops or shorts without feeling ashamed of it, she’s a lot more open about romance and actually goes out of her way to learn about it to make sure she can spot red flags and green flags in relationships and help others from being potentially taken advantage of.

But no matter how hard she tries that fear that worry will never fully go away, she’s only 12 right now and has a long way to go in regards to fully healing, she feels awful for not being able to fully bond with and trust Tim Brian and Toby like Kate seemingly can and she knows they’re good people who don’t want to hurt her, but she’s always going to be worried not just for her sake but also Kate’s, as much as Kate tried to raise her in a loving environment they were living in a very physically unstable one, constantly moving worrying about money and safe places to sleep living in Kate’s car a good portion of the time. And Sally was there for all of it , She doesn’t want Kate to be in any risk anymore and that includes being cautious of her new roommates.

Nina: Nina was only 10 when her life was destroyed over the boy she thought she actually had a chance with, Jeff weather you like it or not is a bad person in this au, tho he didn’t start that way he was raised by very distant and selfish individuals who were more worried about their money and status than their own kids. Because of this Jeff thought Nina being obsessed with him was cool, he liked having a mini me who looked up to him and would do anything he said, so what if you can’t actually stand her and are just manipulating her to keep her around where else is she gonna go she killed her own parents to be here?

So yeah Nina while living with Jeff wasn’t doing so good Jeff was an asshole she was a child Liu just stood back cuz he didn’t wanna be involved and Jane hates her, for a good majority of her life she felt trapped with Jeff it was like walking on eggshells, she thought she’d be happier living like this but she wasn’t and it was only getting worse…until Nurse Ann got involved, Ann had fallen for a similar situation in the past and she knows how dangerous it can be so she ended up with a soft spot for Nina the more she realized her situation, so currently Nina has been taken in by Ann and Dr.Smiley it’s not much Nurse Ann tries to help but she is still a pretty mean person she’s encouraging Nina to be strong and take action against Jeff and not to let herself get hurt anymore but in the process is also making Nina more cold hearted she’s basically learning how to set boundaries with people but in a way that way to aggressive witch with Jeff would he understandable but this isn’t just towards him it’s with everyone.

Lazari: Lazari..is complicated, She finds herself hating herself she wants so badly to be a normal person but at the same time doesn’t feel like one, she hates being a demon and yet she finds comfort in all the demonic stereotypes she was told to hate, she’s lost in an angry confusion she’s both human and demon and angry at both halves of herself, the human side told her that it was a crime she was even born they locked her away and treated her like something to be ashamed of, and the demon half shows no remorse her father was nothing but evil in her eyes even Slenderman the demon that took her in has done such horrible things, she has always clung onto the idea that she could be a good person because she was half human and humans aren’t like demons right. But humans were the ones who gave her those scars on her back humans were the reason she’s now trapped as a Proxy because she knew if she didn’t she’d have nowhere else to go…she didn’t want to but the older she gets and the more she learns about demons the more she starts to decide that maybe she should give into them, embrace the stereotypes and be the demon all those humans had hated for so long, because at the end of the day demons are just animals trying to survive and she’s trying to survive to.

Ben: a lot like Lazari Ben also doesn’t feel human but he tends to show the most sympathy towards people because of this, as far as he’s aware he’s dead and lives on as some sort of tech based ghost and technology doesn’t feel emotions technology isn’t human, and neither is he. So he takes on the pain of his friends as no reason he should be bothered by it right yeah sure he shouldn’t care but they need someone to talk to and he’s the least likely to be bothered by their emotions to the point of it affecting his own emotions because well, he doesn’t have any he’s non human and so he doesn’t have emotions…or at least he keeps trying to convince himself, but the more he listens the more he learns the angrier he gets he hates the people who hurt his friends even if he’ll never admit it even if he’ll never admit that he actually does see them as friends, he cares about people he feels emotions but he doesn’t feel like he SHOULD even if he says that it doesn’t bother him and he doesn’t actually care and that he’s just a weird Ai ghost who can’t feel anything cuz he’s not real won’t change the fact that he was REAL he was a real kid who died he was a real kid who had his life taken away and doesn’t want to accept the fact he’s dead.

Ight that’s all I got so far there are a lotttt of characters and I could go on endlessly about who affects who and why characters act how they do and why so and so is friends with so and so but all this typing is giving me a headache 💀

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta family #creepypasta sally #sally williams #creepypasta lazari #lazari swann #creepypasta ben drowned #ben drowned #ben creepypasta #creepypasta nina the killer #nina the killer #nina hopkins

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mutilatemyheart · 3 months ago

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Summary: Scorch convinces you to play hide and seek with him and his brothers, and you find yourself in a dark closet with Fixer. Warnings: Mention of abuse. My unedited writing. I don't think anything else, but let me know if I miss something. Pairing: Fixer x fem!reader if you squint Word Count: 1749

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you move as quickly as you can without drawing attention to yourself. Can the troopers in the hallway see the anxiety that’s written all over your face? This was just supposed to be a silly, fun game. Instead, you’re now looking for a decent place to hide from the sniper of Delta Squad. Scorch had all but begged you to play hide and seek with them, but he hadn’t told you that Sev would be taking it so seriously. You knew you weren't in any danger, but your body hadn't gotten the message yet. Delta Squad plays to win. No matter how trivial the objective is.

The supply closet isn’t the best place to hide, but you’re out of ideas, and you know you can’t stay out here in the open. A sigh of relief pushes past your lips as the door slides closed in front of you. For the time being, you can catch your breath and relax alone for just a moment. Or, well, you think you’re alone. Someone clears their throat behind you, causing you to jump. Is it Sev? How had he known where you would hide? Has he been tucked away in here waiting? Are you that obvious?

The clone sitting on the supply crate with his back against the wall isn’t Sev. The dim blue glow from the datapad in his hands illuminates his face in the darkness of the closet. Fixer doesn’t budge from his perch on the crate as you stand awkwardly across from him. The two of you have barely spoken to each other in the few weeks you’d known the Deltas. He was polite enough, but he was never one to start up a conversation or any kind of small talk with you. You felt like Scorch had asked you for your entire life story when you met, but Fixer had kept his distance. A silent observer.

“This is the best you could do?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

Warmth spreads across your cheeks, and you’re thankful for the shadows surrounding you. You’ve been wanting to get to know Fixer better and had wanted to spend some time with him one on one, but this is not how you thought it would go. He probably thinks you’re an idiot for picking a stupid hiding place. You want to run out and take your chances being caught by Sev.

But you don’t.

“You’re in here,” you quip back.

He sets the datapad down on his lap and crosses his arms. You hadn’t realized how much muscle the commando’s armor hid. You’ve known that he and his brothers were solid, but the way the fabric of the red fatigues stretches across his arms and chest make your knees feel weak.

“Thought he’d search harder places to get to first. Places like this give me time away from Sev and Scorch’s osik. They take longer to look in simple spots.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other as his gaze bores into you.

“Sorry.” You turn back to the door to leave. “I didn’t mean to interfere with your alone time. I’ll find somewhere else.”

“Stay,” he says, shocking you. He scoots to one side of the crate to make room for you. “If they spot you, it may lead them to me.”

Ah. You sit down next to him, careful not to touch him. You finally have him all to yourself, and he wants you there. Okay, maybe not for the reasons you want him to want you there, but he asked you to stay. That’s something. So, why do you feel like an awkward teenager on a first date? You’re not sure what to say to him, but you want to break the tense silence that’s beginning to settle between you.

“Scorch and Sev have a competition to see who can find the most bizarre place to hide,” Fixer tells you. He keeps his voice low. “Boss had to use a jetpack to get Scorch off one of the ceiling beams above the parade ground. We’re not even sure how he got up there without his kit. My guess is he got one of the Omegas to fly him up.”

“Without his kit? He was up there without any kind of tether?” you ask, bewildered.

You had been told the rules to their version of hide and seek and the perimeters of where you could hide before the game had started. No armor allowed. No loaded weapons. You couldn’t go past the parade ground. No hiding in the ventilation shafts. You had thought it odd that Boss had mentioned that no one was allowed to be anywhere that took being extracted from, but you hadn’t thought too much into it at the time.

“Yeah.” A ghost of a smile flickers across his face. “The di’kut was up there laughing his shebs off. Boss threatened to leave him up there for the night, but that wouldn’t have been worth the hiding we’d all get from Sergeant Vau if he found out.”

You’d heard them mention their former training sergeant before, but you never asked too much about him. While they all seem to respect him and care for him in their own ways, the stories they told weren’t very pleasant.

“I thought he didn’t have anything to do with the army anymore?”

“He’s no longer a sergeant, but he’s around. He keeps tabs on us to make sure we’re not embarrassing him,” Fixer tells you. A dark look clouds his face in the dancing shadows cast by the eerie glow of the datapad, and the tone of voice he uses makes you feel for a moment that you’re around a campfire listening to a scary story. With the way he and his brothers were raised, he may as well be telling you one.

“Maybe he just wants to make sure you guys are alright?” You suggest, hoping to pull him out of whatever dark place his mind had gone to.

Fixer snorts as if your words are unbelievable. His eyes focus on the door across from the two of you as if he's waiting for Vau to burst it open and berate him for wasting time. Does he carry that fear of not living up to expectations with him everywhere? You had heard Sev mention how their former sergeant would react if they ever failed. Does Fixer also have that voice in his head telling him he has to be perfect? Does he know that he’s enough just the way he is?

“Do you ever get in on it as well?” you ask, changing the subject.

Fixer frowns. His eyebrows knit together in question when he looks back to you.

“The competition,” you clarify. “To find the most bizarre hiding place. Or, do you prefer moments like this instead?”

His teeth capture his bottom lip slightly, and you wonder what it would be like if it were your own teeth pulling it in. You meet his eyes and try to push the thought from your mind. You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t become involved with any of your new friends romantically, but in this dark little room with his body so close to yours. You can’t help but notice how much warmth radiates off of him… or how nice he smells.

He huffs a laugh. “Can’t say I’ve ever had a moment like this. I’ve never been alone with a pretty girl before.”

Your eyes widen. Did he really just say that? He clears his throat again and looks pointedly anywhere but at you. His expression looks as if he’s asking himself the same question.

“I can be just as competitive as they are, but it depends on how the last mission went if I join in,” he tells you. He doesn’t elaborate further. “I was surprised you agreed to play along.”

You were more surprised when they asked if you wanted to. You knew that Delta Squad kept mainly to themselves. You were an outsider in every way, but they didn’t treat you like it. Not anymore, at least. When Scorch had first brought you around, they had looked at you like you were lost, and honestly, you had felt it at that time. You wonder what changed for them, but you’re thankful for whatever it was.

“I like hanging out with you guys. I missed you-”

“Did you hear that?” Fixer interrupts you. His body tenses.

You shake your head and look toward the door. Is someone coming? Is it one of the Jedi? How are you supposed to explain why the two of you are so close together in a dark closet to anyone other than his brothers?

The door slides open and casts you both in blinding light. You feel like an animal of prey with the eyes of a hunter on you as a silhouette fills the doorway.

“And what do we have here?” Scorch’s voice is much too cheerful. “You know, if you two wanted some time alone, all you had to do was ask.”

Fixer relaxes beside you and mumbles something in a language you don’t understand.

“Does this mean ‘game over?’” You ask.

Sev peers over Scorch’s shoulder. “Yeah. Boss wants us back at the barracks. New orders just came in.”

The grins on their faces more than tell you that they’re going to rib Fixer about this later. If the annoyed look on his face is anything to go by, he knows it too. He stands from his seat on the crate and offers you his hand to help you up. His skin is warm against yours. His hand lingers in yours for just a moment before it slips away.

“Thank you for letting me hide with you,” you tell him, already missing the feeling of his skin on yours.

He nods. “We’ll pick a better place next time.”

Next time.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” you grin.

You wish them all a good night as you step out into the bright lights of the hallway and watch as they make their way toward the barracks. Fixer glances back for just a brief second as he follows behind his brothers.

“Who said you get to hide with her again?” Scorch asks. “Maybe we want to, ner vod.”

They’re too far gone to hear Fixer’s response, but Sev’s laugh echoes through the corridor back to you. You really have missed them.

#republic commando #delta squad #Fixer x reader #I just really like him #ValentineWritesBS #RC-1140

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cookiesupplier · 1 year ago

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Hell Ain't So Bad - Part Two

pairing: Noah Sebastian x ofc (Ellie)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, smut (eventually), angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of torture, thoughts of religious ideology, and swearing. – potential more to be added at stories progression

summary: Ellie is lost in the world, homeless and has been out of the world for so long in her mind she has no idea what to do and nowhere to go.. When the perfect opportunity falls into her lap, she doesn’t want to pass it up.. Turns out though, it might be a little bit stranger than she ever expected. Who would have thought that one day, she’d end up working in hell itself.. And what does this even mean?

author’s note: Unbetaed, readers beware.. if you want to chat with me about ideas for this story I'm open to it, my asks are always open as well. I threw you a bone, Noah is there.. but not with Ellie lol

ALL COMMENTS ARE WELCOME. (my replies are broken I will reply via reblog to yours)

tags: Tags are open if anyone is interested.

Ellie offered Steven a smile in thanks before she moved past the door into the small office that he’d pointed her towards. It wasn’t anything special, not that she’d expected it to be. Places like this either went one of two ways. They were either simple down to earth, got the job done, or tried to show their accolades for every person and success story they’d had, and every person they’d managed to save.

She didn’t trust those people.

The office was empty though. Too Empty. It was Eerie.

Nicholas Ruffilo, he’d said. Okay.

Ellie glanced around, the office was pretty much the barest of bones, not even a photo to show anything other than a computer on his desk, a notepad and pen.. It gave the impression he’d walked in this morning, plonked it down this morning and said, this was good, let's work from here today, and yet.. Right there was a name plate.. But anyone could get one of those made, cheap. It was weird.

It made her nervous. How did she never notice this place before, right across from the clinic. Today had been so strange, so unnerving all around, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

A feeling she’d had since she’d yesterday.

Just when she was thinking that maybe she should listen to that feeling, when she turned to go, a coughing fit hit her, and she almost doubled over. She almost collapsed to the floor before a pair of arms caught her decent and guided her to sit in the chair across from the barely used desk. While she was hunched over trying to breathe, he moved to the side of the room, doing something, she was too focused on attempting to get air into her lungs to pay any mind until he was coming back to her, and gently pressing a cup of hot tea into her hand.

“Here, sip this tea, it should help with that cough, it’s a special blend. Just don’t ask me what's in it, my mother swore me to secrecy.”

Ellie lifted the mug to her lips grateful for the kindness, sipping at the warm liquid, and letting the tiny, tiny sips soothe her throat. She knew better than to take more, especially at first. She could barely swallow with how sore her throat was with the coughing was right now, and, oh, that warning he gave her for not asking, fuck, whatever was in it, his mother was a miracle worker. All it took was a few sips, whether from the warmth, or the herbs of the tea mix, but the irritation calmed down and soothed her throat something blissfully.

It felt like she could actually take in a breath for a moment.

“Better?”

Lifting the mug back to her lips to take another life saving sip, that’s what it felt like, how it felt with each sip of the tea right then easing her throat just for a moment. Part of her considered how long she could draw out this cup, wondering if the effects would allow her to get a decent sleep tonight. She knew better though, she knew better than to wonder, because even if she walked out of this building with a new job, she would still be going back to the overpass. She would still be wearing these overworn threadbare clothes that didn’t keep her warm. She still wouldn’t be able to breathe properly tonight.

Ellie would still be back tomorrow morning to go to the clinic again, this time, hopefully, she’d get in.

“Yes, thank you.”

She smiled at the man as she took his appearance. Instead of moving around the desk to sit behind it with his notepad and computer, he pulled up the other random chair in the room and sat this side with her. His hair was long, dark, but it wasn’t down, he had it piled up on his head, in a sort of messy knot, gauges in his ears, and he was covered in tattoos.

Ellie couldn’t help but think of all the stories he might have to go along with them. She had a few herself, back from before she’d had to drop out of college.. When she could afford to rub a couple of pennies together. Then again, maybe he had no stories, maybe he was one of those guys that just wanted to look cool naked, nothing wrong with aesthetics, she loved seeing beautiful artwork. Ellie also just loved how it made her feel though, and that in itself was a story for her.

“Alright, so, before we get started, I’m going to need you to sign this waiver allowing me access to your records so we can find you the best placement possible.”

Reaching across his desk, he plucked up his notebook, and sure enough, underneath there was the waver, and he snagged the pen from his notebook that he held out from her,

“Just sign away at the bottom and we can get started.”

He said best placement, but really, she just needed any placement, she’d take any job, she needed a job to fill her belly, to get somewhere to live. Ellie was tired of merely existing, she wanted to live again.

Setting the waiver down so she could sign it without giving up her mug of tea, she handed the pen back with a sigh.

“Alright then.”

Standing from his chair, he moved back around the desk with the pen and waiver, and started to click away at his laptop,

“We actually have a prime entry level position opened up just this morning that might be perfect for you Ellis if-”

“Ellie.”

Nicholas looked up from the screen when her quiet voice interrupted him, and to her surprise, it was almost as soft as it used to be. It wasn’t the rough wheezing hack she’d felt like she’d had ever since the cough had started coming and abusing her throat back and forth.

“I prefer to be called Ellie.”

Nicholas just smiled softly, nodding lightly, and glanced back to his screen.

“Well, there is a particular position that seems to have come up that looks to be perfect for you, its entry level, a postal worker placement, making sure goods get from A to B. It will involve a bit of relocation on your part, but the company in question will provide you with travel and lodging entirely free of charge for the entirety of your employment with them.”

He listed off information for the job details as he clicked away at the computer. Her eyes went wide, oh, that sounded both like a gift and a horror. Going somewhere she had never been, but also they would just be giving her a place to live as long as she was working for them. Where was it though?

“Nice warm climate too, so it’ll help take care of that cough, I might even throw in some tea for you, we won’t tell my mom, Ruffilo secret.”

Winking to her, Ellie couldn’t help but smile.. Was this.. Was this just too good to be true? After everything feeling so strange all day, and everything just slotting into place, why did this feel so… odd?

“Now one caveat listed here, is that you must note that you will need to be capable of handling the packages with care.”

She was curious how he said that, with care, because how he said it sounded quite specific, but at the same time, she really didn’t want to ruin this chance, even if there was something screaming that this might be too good.. She needed this. Ellie needed this.

“Oh, thats not problem for me at all.”

Smiling, it really wasn’t.

“I ah, I used to volunteer as an ‘Angel’ at my local hospital in the children’s oncology wing. Unfortunately I started college, and..”

She sighed.. Her boyfriend and classes had taken up a lot of her time. She had a lot of regrets.

Swallowing, the smile Nicholas got though as he nodded, with a knowing look in his eye as if he heard it all before.. Sighing, she knew that look. He probably thought she was just trying to talk herself up, make herself sound good, because she used to volunteer to look after sick kids. Didn’t matter, she just regretted that she stopped.

“Alright, well then, in that case, I have a few more forms I need you to sign once I have printed them out for you.”

Nicholas watched Ellie walk out from his office with Steven with the promise of some more sandwiches, and a place to sleep tonight. They were not going to let her go back to the overpass where Steven had found her yesterday, and her transport wouldn’t arrive until the morning, he was sending word for it now. Clicking away at his computer, it wouldn’t take long, but even for them sometimes paperwork could be tedious.. Everyone had to dot their I’s and cross their T’s though. Got to make the world go around.

All the world.

Just as he was hitting send on the email to Folio letting him know the time to pick her up in the morning, his phone started to ring, and sure enough, a familiar name flashed across his screen, coupled with a familiar pair of dark eyes that flashed with fire when annoyed.

Swiping the green circle to accept the call,

“What do you want, asshole?”

The chuckle from the voice on the other end had Nicholas shaking his head with a knowing smile,

“Is that anyway to greet your best friend Nicholas Ruffilo, what will your mother say?”

“My mother knows you Noah Sebastian, as much as she’d clip me around the ear, but still ask me what her sweet darling angel did to annoy me this time. She knows.”

The answering laughter on the other end of the line as Nicholas rolled his eyes said it all. Still, he just continued to click away at the laptop on his desk, looking over at the information on Ellie’s file, this was so much easier now that they could download information rather than just use paper hardcopies all the time, it could be so tedious.

“You want me to say hello like a normal person asshole, don’t eat all my fucking food.. like always.”

You’d think he’d learn, you really did, but he didn’t, Nicholas always had left overs that just disappeared whenever Noah came over to his apartment to hangout, which was, always. The man practically lived there more than he did at his own place. Not that he was complaining.

“We have a new one by the way, this one might take some time though, she’s going to be an interesting transition. Not sure how she’ll take it.”

A rumble of a humm was all he got from his best friend on the other end of the line.. And Nicholas paused at his typing as he looked suspiciously at his phone sitting on the desk. His best friends goofy face looking up at him from the screen, back from when they were younger, still kids and Noah was nothing but a fucking giant string bean. The noises in the background of the call made his eyes narrow..

“Oh you fucker, you’re at my place right now aren't you?! Step away from the pizza right now you jackass!”

All he got in response was cackle in response before the call cut off.

Noah ‘Fucking’ Sebastian, the food thief, his days were numbered.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo #demon noah #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian x ofc #original female character #ofc #bad omens au #noah bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #hell au #slow burn

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pharisee-son · 15 days ago

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About me.

I'm new here and still figuring out Tumblr. But someone helped me out, and I realized Tumblr is actually a pretty decent platform. I liked it, and I appreciated its vibe. Maybe this is the right place for me—a little corner of the internet to call my own.

I'd like to share my drawings, lore, and photos here. To connect with people, find other SCP fans, and maybe finally write some roleplay. I hope that someone will appreciate what I create—it would encourage me to keep going. I also want to learn new things, work on my insecurities, and interact with people online just like I do in real life.

The lore I’m building revolves around the “Old Reality,” a project I’ve been working on for 4–5 years. It’s a part of the SCP universe, and the main character of this story is my persona, Dr. D. Patch. It’s my copying mechanism. Because of that, it can be potentially triggering, containing psychological horror, religious and sexual trauma, toxic relationships, gore, body horror, and other heavy themes. My goal isn’t to romanticize these topics—that’s not healthy. I’ll be sharing parts of my work here, and I don’t mind answering polite questions about it.

(Remember that cringe culture is dead!)

On this platform, Tumblr I think I'll just be myself, sometimes RP as my persona. Do arty stuff, make friends - shits and giggles. And sometimes be more serious - learn to draw better, help others if they want it. This blog is "My Diary".

When talking to me, approach with respect. Treat me as a person with thoughts and feelings. Don’t trigger me intentionally. Honesty and questions mean everything to me, and the words "please", "thank you", "sorry" are basic manners, even if it’s just the internet.

If you think I'm problematic/doing something wrong - tell me about it in a polite way + what I can change. I don't intend to hurt anyone with my behavior or be mean. Additionally, being aggressive, unforgiving towards me is a huge trigger for me, so try to avoid it (If it affected me, I'll just be very quiet.).

My profile is a safe space for people of all religions, races, queer, MOGAI, alterhumans, systems, and agere. If I don’t understand something, you’re welcome to explain it to me.

However, toxic individuals such as; misandrists, misogynists, all kinds of incels, "nice guys" & "nice girls" , TERFs, transmedicalists, fatphobes, homo-/trans-/-intersex/queer-/xenophobes, bigots, racists, fascists, religious extremists, fanatics, or anyone pushing hateful ideologies are not welcome here. The same goes for people who are judgmental, edgy, aggressive, mean, or who come here to complain, harass, or insult without offering constructive criticism (when I specifically ask for it).

I primarily speak Polish, but this blog will be in English. I use a translator and might make mistakes since I’m still learning. My DMs are open—feel free to invite me to servers, share your art, lore, or just chat. You can even vent and treat me as a friend. I consider myself quite sociable and enjoy conversations. I don’t ghost or block people without giving a reason first. I’m most active on Discord, and my username there is: “pharisee_son.”

Oh, and my commissions are open. I mostly draw for Polish clients (I’m not sure how to accept payment from abroad). My prices are affordable, and I let the buyer decide the value of my work. I’m also open to art trades with anyone. I mainly draw character designs, references, redesigns, or corrections. However, I struggle with poses and perspective. Still, I’m good at rendering, coloring, and coming up with ideas. I can draw different types of characters, though elderly ones might be more challenging for me. I have no issues drawing furries. Please don’t ask me to draw fetish art, but gore is okay. During a commission, I need to stay in constant contact and will ask many questions. You’ll send me references and guide me on how you want the work done. This helps me feel more confident, and you’ll get what you’re looking for. I’m not a professional artist.

I use he/him pronouns, my chosen name is Dante, and I’m a trans man. I’m 18 years old. I’ve never used substances and am generally against them. I live in the countryside with my beloved aunt, and I spend my days working on the farm or pursuing my hobbies. My fashion style leans towards punk, and my room is filled with a collection of taxidermy, dried plants, and old books. The bad things that happened to me in the past are behind me now, and I’m trying to enjoy life. I am in recovery. As for my diagnoses, oh golly, I don’t know, but – my medical records are a mess (Medical neglect).

I am here thanks to @banesberry-anomoly :D

Last update: 30.12.2024

#introduction #about myself #introducing myself #about my blog #new on tumblr #meet the artist #ccard #pinned post #scp #pharisee son #polish tumblr #poland

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i-call-me-clarence · 4 months ago

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Pictures of a Metaphor

Here is an image of a mushroom:

It’s interesting, it’s got okay composition, the mushroom’s obviously the focal point, but there’s other things that draw the eye in this scene too. There’s the dark red leaf in the upper lefthand corner that leads you away from the mushroom, to the pinecone, maybe you notice then, that there’s another pinecone to the very left, you might get drawn over to the green leaves in the upper right, before you’re coming back home to mushroom land.

This is a story before it’s been edited. It’s complete, it has flow, beginning middle and end. A bit muted, a little lacking in that *pizzaz*, but not horrible.

Some people are fine with this, the image above being exactly what they were going for. Tamed, real, raw. Others would be disappointed. After all that hard work of finding a subject, setting up the shot, and finally taking enough pictures to find a decent one, you’ve got… this, something that’s a bit too dull for some, or maybe just not what you were hoping for.

Now what if you throw in a little color? Made it warmer, fluffier, gave it some more detail and definition? You might get something like this:

It’s got a completely different vibe! It’s something that might catch your attention, compel you to stare at it for a little while. It’s more fun, kind of vintage.

But what if you were looking for something a bit more weird? Something with unexpected colors, something vibrant as hell that made you go ‘Wow’ like Owen Wilson? You might end up with something a little like this instead:

The greens and reds almost clash but there’s a strange, unexpected harmony. Intriguing blues and purples can be spotted throughout the image, if your eyes can focus long enough away from the vibrant greens and reds. It’s kinda bizarre. It makes you feel… something.

But maybe weird isn’t what you want. Maybe warm things make you cringe. So you add in a little darkness, change the tone, create conflict and angst. Or maybe you simply want to unsettle someone. It could end up looking like this:

Dark, cold, finding a mushroom out in the woods, near nightfall, you’re starving and don’t know if it’s poisonous or not.

But what if that’s not enough? What if you want to take that dull old mushroom photo, and bring it to the far edge of reality and then push it off? What if you want to throw it into the very pit that the word ‘insanity’ drug itself out of? What if you want to find pandora’s jar (it was never a box it was a jar folks) and bust it open, just to see if maybe a few more horrors were left inside? In simple terms, what if you just wanna make people’s skin crawl and their eyes need some bleach?

…Unsettling, to say the least.

All of these pictures, are the same exact picture, edited in different ways. What I’m trying to get across here, is that when the story’s done, on occasion, it’s really only just begun. My fiance’s first draft is his final project, and it’s a painstaking process, which he loathes every nano-second of. Me? I start strong with maybe something more like this:

And end stronger with something like this old familiar bad boy:

(It’s the weird one. I’m trying to say I write weird shit)

But sometimes, you finish a story, first draft DONE, and then it’s just… kinda meh. It doesn’t even really seem worth the time to fix it… POLISH THAT SHIT! Edit it until it SHINES! Beauty is waiting, it just needs a little slap here, a comma there, maybe some italics, and then BAM! Masterpeice. (Remember, Leonardo Da Vinci worked on the Mona Lisa for like ten thousand years, making little edits here and there. Don’t spend 10k years on it though, learn when to stop ((something you’d have to hold over Da Vinci’s head :D))

And if you need to get a story down, but are daunted by the task of taking the brutally agonzing steps of making it perfect on the first go round, then… Just don’t. Just take the dull picture with the good idea. Then edit the shit out of it until it looks like the image in your head.

Don’t let a first draft become your last and end up in the recycle bin. Ideas are fire and passion. Don’t snuff them out just because building them up would take work.

#writing advice #had this idea while editing photos a bunch of different ways #the warm and light green and angst/horror photos were edited by my handsome fiance ;)#writing help #first draft woes #how to get past certain types of writers block #writers block #clarence writes

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luimagines · 2 years ago

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I see requests are open my brain is drawing a blank for something to request other than something real old that I thought about when I first got into the linked Universe fandom basically a fear room I'm going to try and explain this the best of my ability think of the room as starting out sort of like a parallel world where everything that the individual ever wanted come true before it starts making amalgamations of their worst fears. Something that I thought would also be interesting is to have an insert reader something gets stuck in the fear room

Oh snap- fear room, fear room, fear room-

This is gonna get angsty. Let's go!!!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

You wouldn’t have known that the dungeon was as evil as it is when you first entered it. But little by little, it had been splitting your group up. The second you would have taken your eyes off of a member, they would have gone missing.

It didn’t take much. For some, it was merely turning a corner and when you got to the same corner they would have already disappeared.

You tried, my god you tried to stay together in the end. But as fate would have it, or perhaps this particular dungeon was alive and watching your every move, you ended up alone.

You kept quiet and tried to keep yourself as small as possible. What was more concerning was the lack of monsters as well. And it was quiet. Silent as the grave, if you will.

It was unnerving.

You were sure that you were in danger. You had do be. Something was waiting for you to take your eyes off of the way in front of you and jump you. Or it was waiting just around the next corner or it was lurking behind you.

This dungeon didn’t seem to have an end to it either. You were only walking in a straight line for the most, having foregone the idea of turning corners after losing four members to that fate.

“NOOOOO!!!!”

You jumped and screamed. It echoed through the halls. It was blood curdling and painful. Pure unadulterated agony.

It sounded like Wind. And close by.

You take off running toward the sound. He was the first to be lost to this magical maze. You had to find him again. “Wind!”

“ARYLL!!!” The voice cries out again.

“I’m sorry!” Another voice cries to your right. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I tried! I didn’t mean to fail you! I didn’t want this! If I could trade my life for yours-”

That’s Wild.

You freeze, the blood in your veins turning to ice. Wind sounds desperate. Wild sound broken. Wind is in front of you. Wild is to your left. You’ll have to choose.

“Zelda?” Sky whispers to your left. It sounds far away but impossibly close to your ear. “...Impa? ...Groose? Pipit? ...What? What happened? Oh god... the blood...There’s so much blood...I couldn’t have been late again...”

“You have to wake up.” Hyrule sobs from behind you. “I didn’t go through all of that just so this could happen again. Zelda please you promised! Ganon can’t come back like this! I can’t heal myself like this!!”

Your feet get stuck where you stand. You can’t pick a place to go. They all sound broken, horrified, guilty.

“LEAVE THEM ALONE!” Twilight bellows from even above you. “DON’T TOUCH THEM. GET AWAY FROM THEM!”

You have no idea what he’s screaming at but he doesn’t sound any better than the rest. He sounds just as desperate. You can feel the terror in each of their voices as they all witness things you have no access to.

You gulp and slowly fall to your knees. Your arms wrap around yourself and your eyes well up with tears as a thought dawns on you. You can’t help them. You can’t help everyone. You have to choose or let them all fall.

Their pain. Their wounds. Their agony. What have they seen that they don’t share? What are they going through that they don’t share?

The floor beneath you falls.

Your scream rips out of your throat before you can stop it. The air rushes past your ears, making the blood pound harder by default. the idea of hitting the ground only passes your mind once, before you begin to slow your decent.

A window passes before you. Your slow float downwards allows you see more of what’s inside. Inside there is a dim torch, just barely lighting a figure held up by their wrists in chains. The metal of their armor glitters in the light but what’s more striking is the familiar red and blue war paint being illuminated, glowing and the one empty white eye that stares back at you.

“I can’t do it.” Time says. You think he can see you but something tells you that he can’t. “I can’t hold him back. You have to run. You have to get out. All of you. I can’t. I can’t do this any more!”

Your fall speeds up again.

You soon pass by a passed out Four. You think you see the sword he carries just beyond his reach. But you’re falling to quickly to make heads or tails of it. In front of him was a statue of a girl but you’re already gone.

You hit the ground.

And survive.

As you try to gather your bearings, you can distantly hear the sounds of fighting. You want to run toward it but you’re afraid to move through the dungeon as it is.

It appears the dungeon is more animated that you thought. The tiles shift and you’re sent sliding through the corridor until you come to a small cliff.

Below, you can see Warrior fighting, the sounds of battle much more clearer now with the walls to stop the clanging of metal.

Warrior falls backwards and you jump to your feet. Now you can see the battle more clearly. He’s fighting all of the boys. He puts up a good fight but he’s not winning by any means.

You can see him pull his punches, begging with his eyes to stop this madness but he fights on. The others looks like the boys you’ve come to know to love but just behind their heads is a little black wisp of smoke.

You whine. you have to say something.

“Warrior get up!” You scream. “You can’t lose! They’re not real!”

He makes no inclination that he heard you.

The cliff actually falls from under you and you scream once more. You land on your side and something snaps.

You cry out again and fall when you try to put weight on it. You think you broke your arm.

Beside you, even if the battle wages on to your right, you can hear quiet sobs.

“I did it.” It says. “I killed them. I ruined it. It’s my fault. They’re gone forever.”

You have to crawl... but you eventually find Legend curled up in a ball. His hand are digging into his hair and his face is in between his knees.

“It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. Leave me alone!”

You jump back.

Legend stands suddenly, and you’re hit with the suddenly and terrifying fact that this Legend is not yours. His eyes are pitch black save for a single red light that flickers every now and then.

You scramble and try to use your bad arm only to fall on your back.

He sneers. “You did this.”

“W-what?” You gulp and try to move away still.

“You let us fall.” He spits.

You push yourself to your feet right as he takes out his sword.

“YOU LEFT US ALL TO DIE!”

You take off running.

Even if you were weary of taking corners before, if seems to be the only way to lose him as he begins to chase you. You try to add as many twists and turns as you can but he always seems to be breathing down your neck no matter how hard you try to get away.

You take a random turn and are blinded by the sun.

You trip and fall. Your arm is suddenly healed.

“There they are!”

“Help them up!”

“Get them away from the door!”

“Do we have any water?”

“It’s ok. We’re all ok.

“Oh thank goodness you’re alive!”

Multiple pairs of hands help you to your feet. You find yourself weak and startled and break down into sobbing, not able to hold yourself up by your own strength.

They pick you up, wrap you up in blankets despite the heat and stay by your side until you exhaust yourself from crying.

Dinner is quiet and everyone is a little more than a bit jumpy when night falls. You’re not really sure if what you heard was true. No one was willing to share what they went through once they were separated. They seem to have been handling it better than you were however.

Sleep is a fruitless endeavor. When you wake up, you can see that everyone congregated into one giant pile, yourself included with limbs and bodies tossed and tangled within one another.

You feel a bit better, if still disturbed. Maybe you’re going to be ok.

You dust yourself off and manage to slip away to start your morning routine. There’s anew scar on your arm- right where you’re sure that you broke it.

You look up and the dungeon entrance is in front of you again.

Chilled, scared and violently slapped by the malicious air that leaks out of it, you run back to the group.

Never again.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #tw blood mention

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sleepysnk · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐘𝐒𝐍𝐊’𝐒 𝟗𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐏 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓.

a/n: welcome to my 9k event! below are some rules and things to know before participating. thank you guys again for 9k!! i cannot wait to celebrate with you guys <3!

INFO ON HOW TO JOIN + THINGS TO KNOW:

- to start, yes, this is a matchup event. however, this will be appearance matchups. i would have loved to have done something much longer, but unfortunately given my circumstances, that wasn’t able to happen. please remember these are appearance matchups.

- to enter, you must send me a picrew or photo of yourself. i’m going to say right off the bat that if you’re using a photo of yourself, it will NOT be posted. your photo also won’t be shared with anyone but myself, but if you don’t feel comfortable, please use a picrew instead. i also will accept other drawings as long as i can have an idea of your face or your appearance. the only thing i need is a photo or picrew.

- this will be open for the two fandoms i currently write for. tokyo revengers and blue lock. you may only chose one fandom. please specify when sending in your matchup!

- i want to also clarify this is based on my opinion. if you don’t like who you got or you’re going to be rude, i don’t mind blocking you and removing your matchup all together. if you wanted isagi and got kunigami instead, deal with it.

- for your post, if you’re going to send me an ask anonymously, i’m going to need an @ for your post. i cannot just post your matchup without one, so please make sure you include one. once again, nobody who sends photos will have them posted!! the same goes for picrews as well!!

- i will only accept the first 25 matchups. mutuals will automatically have a spot, but for anyone else, the limit is 25. i will be tagging these posts under #SleepySnk’sMatchupEvent so if you don’t want to see the posts, please block. they won’t be posted every single day, but i will post a decent amount. i have a job and other responsibilities going on, so i can’t always post them consistently!! please be patient with me while i post them!

- an example: hi can i have a tokyo rev matchup? [insert photo/picrew].

- this event will be open until the max is reached or until Friday, June 9th. no matchups will be taken once the event closes, so please do not send any or they will be automatically deleted.

status: currently closed! (25/25)

#SleepySnk’sMatchupEvent #tokyo revengers x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #tr x reader #matchup event #come join!!#<3 #thanks y’all again for 9k!

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boqvistsbabe · 10 months ago

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Update!!!!!!!!

Hey Y’all!!

Here is the start of hopefully monthly updates. I know in my last update I said I was going to be more consistently here and active. Obviously, that didn’t happen lol. Trying to hold myself to that rn. So this is probably going to be the format for all of my update posts, just so they are easier to follow.

Refresh:

So I am almost completely done with the blog refresh. I think all that is left is updating links and getting some other posts (ex: theme days) made/redone. Most of that got put on the back burner due to how long they were going to take lol. But hopefully, over Spring Break, I’ll be able to get those done (no promises, another thing I’m trying to do, is be more realistic about what I want to get done by when so).

Writing/Other Content:

Ik I said I’d write more. Once again didn’t really happen. Well, I have written a decent bit, but never finished anything. There is one fic that I am going to try and work on after this week (midterms lol) and have someone look over it (the first time I’ve had a beta reader, look at me go lol). Like the blog as a whole, I am trying to organize my writing, like requests and my ideas and what is going out when etc. (@ any of the other writers if you have any suggestions of what to/where to organize my stuff so it doesn’t get all confusing and mixed up you should def let me know). Speaking of requests, I am going to try and do at least two requests a month. That doesn’t sound like a lot but for me, that feels like something I can realistically do. I will be doing old requests first because even though they are years old at this point, I liked the ideas so I genuinely want to write them. I am still going to be accepting new requests (esp because sometimes that helps spark creativity/help with writer’s block so feel free to send in any ideas!!) but I will try to get those older ones done first. As for any other content (playlists, moodboards, IG edits, drawings, etc.) I am also taking requests for those so feel free to send in any of those requests too.

Another Blog?!

As of rn the second hockey blog has not been “released”. I want to catch up on things for this blog before I throw that into the mix and try to grow that as well. I am hoping to add that sometime this summer. Also, I do technically have a sideblog already (@samistheman) which is normally where I reblog random things, and I don’t really have tags for that blog I just kinda willy-nilly reblog there (it used to be mostly PJO stuff but now that’s kind of here because of how much of it there is lol).

Life Update:

College is a lot rn. I’m doing 17 credit hours and tbh do not know what possessed me to do that. At first, I was doing pretty good, but now not so much. Like I said earlier I have midterms this week. If y’all didn’t know this, I’m shit at taking tests so not doing great rn. Thankfully one of my classes ends on Sunday so at least I don’t have to worry about that. I’ve had a lot going on in my personal life recently that is impacting a lot so trying to navigate that as well. I am moving out in May, which is yes months from now but there is still a lot that I need to do beforehand. Anyway, I’m going to a college hockey game on Thursday and I am super excited. I haven’t been able to go to a game since October. Also little fun update, I’m going on a weekend (work) trip to Boston. Super excited for that. I’ll be getting to go to a Celtics game and a Red Sox game (I’m a Royals girlie tho). I’ve never been to an NBA game so that’s for sure gonna be really cool. I’ve been to many MLB games before but this will be my first at a different stadium. Anyway, I think that is it for this update. Hope y’all are doing well!!

As usual, if y’all ever want to talk dms/inbox are open <3

I am going to tag some moots, I am totally forgetting some people so I am sorry for that (if y'all could reblog that would be amazing)

@2manytabsopen @krugstrash @jimmystrudel @andreburakozy @sidneycrosbyhoe @fallinallincurls @timstuetzle @typical-simplelove @ilyasorokinn @drei-mrssvechii

#blog things

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mbti-notes · 1 year ago

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Anon wrote: Hello there, I hope you enjoyed your summer break! I'm the INFX anon from the post on June 30 (721567168810057728). I struggle with anxiety so I had trouble opening your response for months, until I did so today. I saw that you didn't receive the second half of my message and couldn't make a thorough analysis based on just the first half, so I figured I could try doing sending it now. I stopped somewhere halfway through describing my Se Inf, so I'll continue with that.

[I'm going to copy the previous post to put everything together.]

Hello, I am INFX, 21 y.o. After reading your blog, taking some tests and understanding functions (hopefully) a little better, I narrowed down my options to INFP and INFJ. If you are able to, I would gladly use your help in determining my type. As for important information: I have a generalized anxiety disorder, I had depression for several years and I am still prone to depressive episodes. English is not my first language.

I will start with INFP functional stack.

Fi Dom: I have a fuzzy sense of identity, which is why I often don’t know what I like or dislike, get stuck, don’t trust my gut feelings, rely on others a lot in decision-making processes. I do tend to judge things as either good or bad depending on my beliefs, but the beliefs are weak. I don’t trust them unless they are built on a solid framework of knowledge and evidence. I need to know rather than believe. My emotions emerge seemingly from nowhere. I can’t identify what’s the reason for them and how to deal with them. But for some reason I still think I make decisions relying on my emotions, it’s just that if I always relied on them it would do more harm than good.

Te Inf: I have trouble understanding Te. I know Te is about external structure. Actually I rarely encounter extremely messy lifestyle as in Fi extreme and I can plan things decently, even if I don’t like doing so. Structure helps me and I need it in order not to become chaotic, so I always have an agenda and don’t like it when plans are cancelled. Especially in recent years I got better at structuring my life. Most of the time I know what to do to solve my problems, I just don’t want to do it. So I don’t think I’ve ever encountered Te grip (at least not from what I’m aware of). At my lowest points I did have trouble to take care of myself but I attribute it to depression.

Ne Aux: Ne is one of the few functions I can decently use and understand in a positive way. I often look for new activities to participate in, new hobbies (especially creative ones). I have 300+ tabs open at all times because I research many different topics at once. I can generate creative ideas (usually for my art) with the help of sensory experience (such as music). Often manifests in unhealthy ways - I use daydreaming to escape responsibilities.

I can find a lot of opportunities but I don’t indulge in them or follow through, which makes my interests shallow. I like making lists (of albums to listen, movies to watch, stuff to draw, things to do in general), but I rarely do what’s in those lists. I’d rather daydream about it than actually do something. This is one of my greatest struggles, because I have ideas and inspirations but they always stay in my head or on paper and never come to fruition.

What makes me think Ne is my Aux rather than Dom is that I am very risk-averse and not very extraverted (I know ENXP are the most introverted extraverts though), I have never been very positive either or extremely chaotic either.

Si Tert: I am prone to not stepping outside of my comfort zone. I want new experiences but at the same time I’m afraid of them. As I’ve mentioned before I am very risk-averse, not taking even calculated risks. Fear of failure holds me back. I’m afraid that the status quo may change not in my favor (it will all go downhill if I make a mistake, so I’d rather do nothing at all).

Moving onto INFJ stack:

Ni Dom: I struggle with perfectionism because I have an ideal image of things I want to implement and I’m too afraid I will fail to achieve the ideal; I have a perfect version of myself in mind which I strive to be one day (but often fail to come even close to it). I don’t have a clear picture of my future though.

I know that many people equate Ni with “insightful” thinking, which I cannot relate to. I “predict” the future in a negative way, always expecting a catastrophe and feeling paranoid at worst. I often jump to pessimistic conclusion way before anything bad happened. I keep telling myself that it’s better to keep expectations low in order not to get disappointed.

Se Inf: I cannot engage with physical world because of escapism. When I’m outside I don’t notice my surroundings at all. I go through life on autopilot. Even when I try to be present and focus on the current moment, my sensing is dulled, almost muted, and the engagement feels shallow. I’m always in my head, made-up scenarios are more comforting to me than the real world. I reflected on it for some time and decided depression is not to blame because my Se was unhealthy/unused before that as well, it just escalated.

My partner (ISFX) helped me feel more grounded so now I'm more aware of what's going on around me, but I'm still not satisfied. I feel disappointed after any external stimulation, such as watching a movie. Even though I listen to a lot of music, I often joke that I hate music because most of it makes me feel nothing and feels boring. Since nothing (or very little) touches me emotionally, I find it very difficult to form opinions about what I experience (unhealthy Fi?).

At the same time I fall back on Se when I feel very bad, e.g. I used to go on long, 7-10 hour walks when I was depressed, physically exhausting myself so I would not feel a thing. Still prone to this, doing something physical feels like an easy reward (you're still technically doing something even if it's meaningless).

Fe Aux: I value equality greatly and I am quick to jump into others' shoes (although I do not consider myself empathetic). I rely on others in decision-making process, I have to accumulate different viewpoints before setting my mind to something. I think my Fe is not healthy because I jump to extremes, desperately avoiding intimacy and social connections in general but trying to live up to possible expectations of select few whose opinion matters to me (such as my family or my partner).

I am afraid that authentic expression of myself is not something others would like, so I suppress my voice even when I have something to say. I avoid conflicts. I am ashamed of my preferences, likes and dislikes. I often envision a version of myself that would be palatable to most people. I often shut myself off from my friends and tend to think that I don't need friends in general. I also perceive every social interaction as a contest which I should win, when I compare myself to others I feel sick, so I avoid social situations.

Ti Tert: I have a strong fear of inferiority (from my underdeveloped Fe). I rarely notice any possible signs of Ti loop though. One thing I have encountered is falling back on intelligence to boost self-esteem. But since I believe that I am uneducated and unintelligent, this mechanism fails.

I also noticed the pattern of avoiding people whom I perceive as high-developed Ti or Ti doms because they make me feel lesser and uncomfortable. I am envious of their vast knowledge and the ease with which they share it. I wish I had more knowledge because my self-esteem depends almost entirely on it, I need to feel "smart", it pressures me to develop Ti but I fail.

I think that is pretty much it. Sorry it took me so long to give a complete answer, it's all a bit of a mess. I hope I followed your instructions properly. I think my main question is whether the conflict that is most prominent in my functional stack is Ne-Si or Ni-Se.

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

As I said previously, the INFP stack doesn't fit. There is more than enough counter-evidence to rule it out. As for the INFJ stack, all functions fit quite comfortably. The negative patterns and characteristics you describe are typical for immature INFJs. I think you suffer from Ni-Ti loop much more than you are aware of. Perhaps it's a good idea to read through past INFJ posts to understand your issues better.

#ask #assessment

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