I guess I should clarify something after talking to some people, but putting it on this blog for reasons.
So I know a few things I do on here are a bit...odd? Be it how I follow people, interact, send or in many cases don’t send stuff, or my rping style, or even why my muse is the way he is, or my activity habit. So let me just explain a bit and get it out of the way, not being forced to do this, just that sometimes people don’t get the right idea for why I do things.
Following people: I usually NEVER follow people first, on ANY of my blogs. Simply because I am not sure if my muse is wanted or not, or myself for that matter. Some people prefer being followed by certain muses or fandoms, so to not cross their comfort I usually don’t follow first. Sure I may follow back if they followed me, if I am comfortable or interested enough and its a character I can see myself rping with, yeah...
Interact: Simply put, I am a people pleasure, I want make everyone proud and happy and all that...but last few years on tumblr and FF14, etc, I was used and abused in so many ways then I care to admit, making me VERY paranoid and uneasy around others, doesn’t help I am naturally shy, and not one to care for a lot of attention, so sorry for not reaching out first usually... Usually interact more with friends and people I talk to in ways that I can be comfortable to reach out to them, ic or ooc, but I sadly can’t do this with everyone and every day... so sorry...
Sending stuff: Pretty much above reasons, fact that Idk if people would want a meme from me so I just don’t send one unless asked or told I can in person, I just don’t want to annoy or make people feel required to answer. And I get super nervous if its appropriate to send, so usually only do this if confident enough and or comfortable with the person.
Rping style: Thing is, I am rarely on, fact is I was gone a lot the last few years trying please people on FF14 to point that was all I did. Got so bad and blew up in my face so hard I was so scared to come back here, afraid they bring the drama here, and they did in a sense, but not as much. So I am rusty from being gone a lot do to drama and health reasons. Also I am dyslexic, both reading and speaking, my grammar sucks, due to these things and being so rusty with rping, I know my writing can be unreadable, making it hard for people want to continue, and usually write with people comfortable with my writing or asking me for understanding, luckily my best friend and rp partner can read my stuff very well so least I got that going.
My muse: He is actually pretty mellow and quiet and not so much of a sore thumb guy, but he wants to be because it’s important for him be out there for people at times. I am usually very secluded and quiet myself, Angelic helps me cope and be more happy and carefree and relaxed from writing him. He is a very complete character that pretends be very simple because people can handle simple and straightforwardness, though he may not seem so forward in speaking. Lol. He is a prized muse I wrote for over ten years in all kinds of fandoms, he used to be very popular in a lot of them, now, most people moved on, and as for myself and my breaks, well... He is just a muse I want be one day, a lot of things I have experienced and seen I put in him, quite proud of it, he’s far from perfect, but doesn’t stop him from trying be the best he can, I look up to him for that.
Activity: I have health issues...what more...I am still recovering from years of abuse... To be quick, I am a mentor in FF14, all my classes are 90 (ALL CLASSES), I have over ten accounts, I am used to helping one to six or more people in things. I rarely ate or slept, hell I missed a lot in the game due to being told to speed through or else... fun... Being the people pleasure I am, I tried everything, crafting and gathering and helping with story to savage content to helping with rooms and clothes and rping and you name it, probably did it. My like was consumed by FF14, more so by people I wanted to please and be proud of me...It was...bad...didn’t eat or sleep really... mind none stop focus on wanting help and be useful and wanted...it...was...BAD...so bad I had friend demand and plea to take breaks and rest and stop doing any FF14 for a week or more... Yeah... It blew up in my face, severely, three times specifically... Luckily majority left my life, still tries stir drama with me... but whatever... Hence why I was gone a lot here as well because some used to rp with me...I am a lot better, but I have a lot of health issues still (always will be), and just...yeah...recovering... so that’s why I am so sparse, some great days and some good days and weeks or even months I am gone, lol. That’s me. I don’t tend to promote my blogs now because honestly, I am tired... And I just...well...I want people naturally come to me because they are interested in me and my muses, be it Angelic or some other...may mention muses on other blogs and here but yeah...Idk... I used to be very popular on a lot fandoms and now I just want to rest after everything. LOL... Look at me being a old retired person mentality. Hahahaha! But yeah, just..hah... Yeah...
So yeah there you have a general idea of things. I won’t mention stuff like this usually if at all, as I try keep most things privet these days unless they are pertinent to the muse or something important enough, but yeah. Anyway back to rping.
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bay!donnie x female reader, angst/hurt/comfort; technically nsfw but this is not a spicy fic
ah fuck. cws: negative thoughts? negative self-image? I... think that's all?
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Truthfully, you should've seen this coming. Work has been hard lately. You've been feeling a little down and a lot stressed out for a while now. Tired all the time. That negative voice in your head speaking up more frequently, other people's words cutting a little deeper than usual. Amplifying the negative and brushing past the positive, letting things get to you even though you know sometimes your brain is a lying asshole.
So, really. You should've known. You should've said something. Something about how sensitive you're feeling. How normally you love a good mixture of degradation and praise but right now you really, really need him to stick with praise. You should've said something.
But you didn't.
The tears come suddenly. The dull ache in your chest sharpens, like a shard of glass, wedging itself between your ribs and pressing in further with every inhale. You feel like you're not getting any oxygen at all, your lungs seizing as your breaths quicken. You can't- you can't breathe.
Just a stupid fucktoy, Donnie had called you. And normally you love that. Normally that's perfect - you've come to the sound of those words plenty of times before. But now…
Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. A stupid fucktoy. That's all you're good for, isn't it? You can't do anything right except be used. But, oh, you can't even do that right, can you? Because now you're crying, and he's stopped using you. He's stopped, and you're truly useless now, and you're so so fucking stupid.
He calls your name. Takes the gag out of your mouth. Gently wipes at the tears streaming down your cheeks and asks if he's hurt you. If he went too fast, if you weren't fully prepared. If you want him to stop.
You can't speak, but you shake your head.
“Dove, what is it? What's wrong?”
Nothing. Everything. You. It's just you, you're what's wrong. You're wrong and useless and stupid, and you can't breathe.
“Hey, hey, you're okay. It's okay, here, come here, it's okay.”
He's holding you. Cradling you to his chest as you sob like the pathetic thing that you are. When the soft cuffs that held your hands behind you are released, you can't help but cling to him and bury your face in his neck. The sounds you're making are so ugly, so whiny, and you- you hate yourself. Fuck, you're pathetic. He's murmuring sweet words, brushing a hand up and down your back, trying to soothe you. He’s kind, and gentle, and you…
You don't deserve it.
Donnie is confused. You can tell he is, and you want to explain but at the same time you don't. It doesn't really matter, though. You wouldn't be able to make yourself speak even if you did want to. Everything is too much right now, and you still can't breathe, and you're starting to feel sick to your stomach.
Stupid. Why are you so goddamn stupid?
You cry. And cry. And cry. Muscles stiff, face swollen, you're miserable and exhausted and fucking mortified. Donnie was feeling good. He was enjoying himself, and you ruined it with your tears. Ruined it. Stupid girl, you ruin everything.
You try to apologize. It comes out garbled, but somehow he understands.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Dove. You've done nothing wrong.” Donnie presses a kiss to your hair, still running a hand up and down your back. Soothing, kind, gentle, he's everything. And you don't deserve him.
Time passes. Sobs turn into sniffles, which start to come farther and farther apart. When you finally go completely quiet, he's still murmuring sweet words into your hair.
You feel sick. Tense. Nauseous and shaky and gross. Inside and out, you feel wrong. Hollowed out, scraped clean of everything except this ache in your chest that won't go away.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
Donnie moves, still cradling you close with one arm as he leans forward and reaches for something. A blanket is draped over you. You hadn't even realized how cold you were, but the relief is instant. Your muscles start to fully relax, and you find yourself melting into his hold even further.
He presses another kiss into your hair. “What happened, my love?”
You swallow thickly, glad that your face is hidden in his neck. You don't want to tell him. It feels so- so stupid. For you to have reacted like that. For you to be so affected by nothing. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing, nothing, that's all you are. Nothing.
“I'm going to list some things. Just shake your head or nod for me, okay?”
After a moment, you nod against his neck.
“Did I go too fast?”
You shake your head.
“Did I hurt you?”
You hesitate for a moment, then shake your head. There's a stretch of silence where you swear you can hear him thinking, analyzing your hesitation.
“Was it what I said?”
You should nod, but you can't make yourself do it. There's a thick, heavy anxiety there, keeping you from confirming even though you're not sure why. Donnie understands anyway, because of course he does. He's perfect, and kind, and smart, and you're just so-
His arms tighten around you. He doesn't say that you should've told him you were feeling down. He doesn't say that you should know better, that you should know that he doesn't mean it and that it was just part of the fantasy. He doesn't say any of that, because he understands. He understands, as he always does, that what you need is for him to keep murmuring kind words into your hair. To keep gently caressing your skin, holding you like you're something precious. To combat the venomous thoughts that are holding you hostage.
He understands.
It's okay, Dove. You're okay. Everything is alright. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, okay? You're not stupid. You're not whatever mean things your head is saying right now. You're perfect, and I love you so much. I love you so much, Dove. You're perfect just as you are, okay? My pretty girl. Right here with me, where you belong. You're so good, sweetheart, so good. I've got you.
His words are like a balm on your soul, and you drink them up greedily. Holding onto him like he's a lifeline - because he is. He is.
The tears come back. You can't help the ugly keens, the way your body shakes. Through it all, he holds you close and soothes you inside and out in the way only he can.
Not stupid, Dove. Smart. Kind. Brave and capable and good. You're so good, and I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you-
You'll never understand how he does this - how he makes that feeling of wrong wrong wrong fade away. But he does. The sharp tangle in your chest is unraveling, and you're finally able to breathe and actually feel like you're getting oxygen. You're so grateful, and you're so fucking lucky, and you love him so much. By the time you start to drift, with his soft voice echoing in your ears, both you and the keratin you're resting against are warm.
Later, when you wake, fully soothed and capable of speech once again, there will be more to talk about. But for now, Donnie holds you. Soothing you with his voice, his hands, his everything. And you finally, finally let yourself rest.
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