#i love details about his cane and chronic pain and just i love when it's mentioned i'm like oh haha i do that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angstyaches · 7 months

Note

Hi!I love your fics so much and I saw your request things and thought maybe you could do Donnacha or Henry with an upset stomach that pushes them to the edge? Like they have to go go go all day long and it makes them like super overwhelmed but it ends all fluffy with the other character comforting them with belly rubs or a hot shower or smth?? Only do this if you want ofc!! Just a an idea! Ok bye!!

I was so sure that this hadn't been in my inbox for too long, but then I realised my original draft is named 'henry sickfic june' lmao thank you for the lovely request and for your patience, anon 🖤

CW: anxiety, depression, bad self talk, chronic pain, job interview scenario, death mention, emeto, stomach noises, platonic caretaking, belly rubs.

Word Count: 4,000+

___

Henry woke up feeling far too rested.

Not a good sign.

Even before he’d untangled his thoughts from the hazy dream he’d been having – the details were already retreating, but he was certain that Orlando Bloom had been somewhat involved – he knew in his bones that he had slept through his alarms.

Cold spikes of adrenaline flipped him onto his back, joints protesting, so he could reach for his phone and his glasses. He pressed the glasses to his face and read the time on the screen. The taste of bile crept into his dry mouth.

“Oh, fuck.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. He hadn’t shaved in ages, and his stubble was just short of a full-fledged beard at this rate. He’d intended to shave this morning, before sitting down to do a remote job interview that had been scheduled for one hour and forty-three minutes ago.

Well. The company may as well have received written confirmation that he was no longer interested.

Woops.

He supposed he could call them up now and apologise for running late, and maybe they’d give him another shot –

Henry’s stomach instantly turned at the idea, and he had to swallow very measuredly to avoid choking on a mouthful of bile.

He had another interview lined up for later that afternoon, in case interview number one fell flat. Which it technically hadn’t. Now everything depended on the second – only – interview, a thought that had his stomach twisting again as soon as he had it. He almost regretted that he hadn’t managed to sleep through that appointment, too; at least then it would have been out of his hands.

Henry hauled himself out of bed, grabbed his cane, and headed down the hallway for a quick, lukewarm shower. He thought about his day as he worked the grease out of his hair and the sheet-marks out of his face; his failure to make his first meeting of the day clawed at him, clinging to his skin despite the running water. As much as he’d been dreading the human interaction, he needed work – for the sense of purpose as much as the financial compensation.

But... mostly the financial compensation.

Digging through his clothes, he realised that the first thing he’d needed to do that morning was stick a bundle of his laundry into the washer-dryer, so he would have a decent shirt to wear for his interviews. Well, interview singular now. He dragged his laundry basket to the kitchen and filled the machine. His hip and back started aching with the effort of crouching, and head spun with urgency, frustration, and the overall unpleasantness of waking up to instant panic. His hair – now long enough to lick the neckline of his sweater – dripped cold water into his clothes.

Alright. The dry cycle would be finished a measly fifteen minutes before he’d need a shirt. He’d really needed to wake up with that first alarm, but... it was fine. This was fine.

While the washing machine hummed to life and water trickled into the drum, Henry gingerly righted himself, fingers working into the tension in his hip. Tears stabbed at the backs of his eyeballs and his jaws sat tense, but there was no sense in letting the pain steal his focus when he had things to be doing.

He eyed the cupboards and considered dragging something out for a breakfast/lunch hybrid, but he felt his stomach do a queasy little backflip at the thought.

He slinked back to his room, his heart thumping like he’d run a marathon, and lowered himself into his desk chair.

___

Henry tried tapping around on Reddit to kill the time, but the constraints of both his laundry and his upcoming interview made it impossible for him to get absorbed in anything other than watching the time. His eyes skimmed over words and paragraphs without really taking anything in, and what little information his brain did let in only made him confused and angry. His mind was locked up tight, sealing itself up in fear of forgetting what he was supposed to do later.

He typed the name of the company he’d be interviewing with later into a search engine. Maybe if he convinced himself he was being productive, his brain would give him a break.

Light stabbed his eyes and Henry almost physically recoiled when their website appeared on-screen. No wonder they were looking to hire a web designer. The thing looked like it’d been created by a thirteen-year-old in 2004, despite the fact that the About Us portion stated that the company had been established in 2016.

Henry was ready to click away from the site again – any longer in front of that wall of neon yellow and headers written in Bradley Hand, and he’d trigger a migraine – when a twinge of hunger sent his stomach into a spiraling churn.

“Oh, great, now you’re hungry,” Henry murmured, gliding a hand over his belly.

As indignant as he was about having to move, he was a little grateful to be given a task. He pulled himself out of the desk chair with a resigned sigh. After making himself a milky cup of coffee and a sandwich, using the last slice of cheese in the fridge, he hobbled over to the living room couch.

He thought about turning the TV on, but the remote was out of immediate reach, so that decision was made for him. He ate in silence.

He took a few bites of his sandwich that didn’t really taste... like anything. He hadn’t had anything to drink, since he’d woken late and in such a panic; maybe it was his dry mouth that was stopping his taste buds from doing their job. He took his coffee mug firmly by the handle and gulped down a few mouthfuls, stopping when the bitterness clung to the back of his throat. Not his best move, he thought with a shudder. He managed a few more bites and, unable to force himself to eat the crusts when his appetite was already so poor, called it there.

___

Henry’s belly roiled. He could feel a panicky sheen of sweat gathering under his clothes. and his voice trembled throughout the meeting, It was so hard to sort through his dizzy thoughts that he struggled to answer the most basic of questions; what were his qualifications, what previous work was he the proudest of, what had he struggled with in the past and how had he overcome that struggle.

“Thank you for allowing me to get to know you, Mr. Wilde,” the interviewer said now, smiling at him through the screen. “Your qualifications and experience are probably the most outstanding of all of our candidates so far. But I am just curious; what it is that interested you about this particular project?”

Henry swallowed thickly. Despite this very immediate emergency situation, all he could think about was how Lucy would have passed away from second-hand embarrassment if she ever found out that the extent of his research on this company hadn’t gone beyond a brief skim of their website.

He mumbled something about potential, even though all he could think about was the potential of him taking a nap directly after this interview ended. To his left, his bed lay beneath the armfuls of clothing that he’d moved out of his webcam’s line of sight, yet it seemed to peer out at him with a warm, tempting gaze. He could call it a day here, and hope she’d hire him based on his credentials alone.

A warm, sickly belch crawled up his throat. He managed to stifle and muffle it, but his fist jerked towards his lips out of instinct, his cheeks puffing out slightly. The air settled back into his stomach with an acidic slosh, and he eyed his interviewer carefully.

“Excuse me, sorry,” he mumbled.

She blinked, regarding him with a hint of distaste, but moved along. “So, if we were to hire you for this project, where would you begin?”

Henry cleared his throat, removing his fist. He was becoming irritated now; it felt as though she were tricking him into giving her instructions for whatever sap she hired, be it him or somebody else. But sometimes, you just had to jump through hoops to get ahead. Or stay afloat.

“Well...” He cleared his throat. “I think I would begin by implementing some basic changes to the optics of the company’s home page. It’s the first impression of your company that many customers will get, so I feel it’s important to provide a good visual impact.”

“Visual.” The interviewer – shame curdled in Henry’s gut as he realised he’d already forgotten her name – raised an eyebrow. “This project doesn’t concern any graphic work.”

Catastrophe bloomed amidst the existing unease in Henry’s belly. He could let himself off the hook for not knowing the company inside-out, but not knowing the details of the position he was applying for was a whole other level of unpreparedness. The Lucy in his head was slapping her forehead and shaking her head, disowning him.

“But you’ve intrigued me,” the interviewer said. “What optics are you referring to?”

If you want my input, hire me, Henry wanted to snap at her.

“Well, there are some scenarios where websites such as your current one would lend a certain retrospective, nostalgic charm,” Henry said, adjusting his glasses with a shaky hand, “but since I have no reason to believe that this was the intention here, the current website makes your company appear out of touch, and the previous designer seem like an incompetent amateur.”

With a deep nod of her head, the interviewer looked down at the notepad she’d been clutching since the call had begun. She tucked a nonexistent strand of stray hair behind her ear. “The previous designer was my deceased partner.”

Henry’s throat froze over.

“But I thank you for your feedback on her competence, Mr. Wilde, or... lack thereof, as it would seem.” Her eyes widened as she jotted something down. Her sudden lack of eye contact seemed intentional. “That’s all I need from you right now.”

Henry fidgeted in his desk chair. He’d done such a great job of not fidgeting until that point. An apology danced on the tip of his tongue, but all that came out when he opened his mouth was, “Alright.”

“Thank you for your time.” The interviewer didn’t even off a ‘we’ll be in touch’ before she ended the video call and vanished from his screen.

Henry sat back in his chair, flung his glasses across his keyboard, and groaned loudly into his palms. When the groan didn’t seem like enough, he allowed himself something a little closer to a scream – why not? He was home alone, and the downstairs lot had been unoccupied ever since they’d moved in.

The sound turned over painfully in his throat and made his eyes water. His insides felt like they were shrinking under the weight of failure, uselessness, despair, and hopelessness, and his shoulders crumpled inwards until his head was resting on the edge of his desk.

It felt like forever before a sob finally tore loose, and with it came the sickly belch he’d swallowed on the video call, only this time, it came with interest. His stomach was churning wildly, feeling full to the brim with acidic mush.

Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even said sorry for his remark, or thanked the interviewer for taking the time to speak with him –

Vision blurry, Henry’s hands scrambled to find the metal bin he usually filled with sticky notes and chocolate wrappers and noodle cups. He shifted his chair forward in the search, jamming one of the wheels against his own foot. He yanked the bin into his lap as his stomach muscles imploded.

No, he thought, tossing the bin back to the floor. Puking in his bin would mean washing it later, and Henry didn’t trust his energy levels to be up for an extra task after all of this.

He gripped the edge of his desk, flinching to his feet and setting his stationery holders rattling. His hip seized up as he straightened, and if that wasn’t bad enough, a spike of tension pierced his temples. He staggered into the hallway and towards the bathroom, and, mercifully, made it to the toilet bowl before his stomach could really get going.

The pressure at the base of his oesophagus felt like too much laundry being pushed into a washing machine drum at one time. It took far too long for him to retch up even the tiniest splatter of burning-hot bile; the liquid ejected from his stomach probably amounted to less than the liquid he’d squeezed out of his eyes.

Still, his body seemed satisfied with that for now. The nausea retreated, leaving only that stubborn pain in his belly and the matching pain left behind by the clenching in his throat.

He sank to the floor, knuckles pale and jutting as he gripped the toilet seat with both hands. He forced up a burp that was pressing at the base of his ribs, grimacing and desperate for relief, but it only brought that hot, heavy feeling back. His stomach burbled. His hip ached. His goosebump-ridden body shuddered. His heart curdled into a lump of despair that sat at the back of his throat.

He belched again, and this time, up came his sandwich.

___

“Henry, it’s Flatmate Friday,” Donnacha called through the door, as drily as he might have said that it was raining outside.

Henry groaned quietly into his pillow. Flatmate Friday generally involved pizza delivery and a nostalgic movie or two, while three people sat crushed together on the couch and the fourth either took up residence on the floor or on a dining chair.

“Hen, you alive in there?” Donnacha asked. “More importantly, are you decent?”

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to convince Donnacha not to come into his room, Henry gave in to the inevitable. He tugged the duvet out of the way of his mouth and called out, “Yes.”

“Look,” Donnacha sighed as he breezed into the room. His eyes lingered on the mess of clothing that lay between the door and the bed, but only for a few seconds. “I know Lucy brought you your slices last week, but I don’t agree with that! I’m sorry if it sounds harsh, or whatever, but the point of Flatmate Fridays is... you know. Hanging out with your flatmates on a Friday. If I can be civil with Payton in the spirit of Flatmate Friday, then you can at least manage the ten paces it takes from here to the couch...”

There was a brief flash of silence.

“Jesus, Hen,” Donnacha said softly. Ha shimmied around the clothes mountain. His weight tipped one side of the mattress, creating a slope that pulled Henry’s legs towards the warmth of Donnacha’s back. “What’s going on? Bad day?”

Henry shrugged.

“Those... those new meds messing you up?” There was a soft, sympathetic melody to Donnacha’s voice now. He wove his fingertips into the fluffy mess of Henry’s hair.

The gesture took him so much by surprise that tears sprang to Henry’s eyes, almost as uncontrollably as vomit.

“Hen,” Donnacha exclaimed in a whisper, as though Henry had done something outrageous by tearing up. “What’s up? This is scary. Please tell me.”

“I... fucked up so many times today,” Henry said numbly. It all felt so... inconsequential now that he was trying to summarise it for someone who wasn’t there. Someone who didn’t share his headspace. Someone who could smile and shrug and tell him to try again another day.

Someone who, sweet as he was, didn’t understand.

“What do you mean?” The sympathetic edge left Donnacha’s voice, leaving only disbelief. Genuine disbelief that Henry could have fucked anything up because Henry was older, Henry was smarter, Henry never left the apartment so when would he even have the opportunity to fuck anything up?

“I-I woke up feeling like shit, and then I missed one job interview, and I really... really wanted that one.” He hadn’t admitted it to himself earlier, but now it hit him like a rock to the gut, that the interview he’d missed had meant so much more to him than the other one. “A-and then, I spectacularly fucked up the second one –”

“It can’t have been that bad.”

“I insulted the interviewer’s dead partner.”

Donnacha’s lips hovered apart, wordless. Yeah, that’s what I thought, Henry wanted to spit.

“And then I-I completely shut down for the rest of the day... I’m behind on my current deadlines –”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Donnacha said.

He didn’t even realise he’d started heaving with sobs until he felt Donnacha’s hands trying to still his shuddering shoulders. He leaned into his arms, the mattress rolling his legs and his torso closer to Donnacha’s weight as the larger boy edged a little closer.

“And you’ve just been lying here all by yourself? Why didn’t you call out to any of us when we got home?”

A small, bitter voice in Henry’s head wanted to snap, Why didn’t any of you think to check on me? but he knew that was unfair. Most days, he was fine, but still didn’t like having his flatmates entering his personal space without an invitation.

“Why didn’t you tell me... tell us you had interviews this week?” Donnacha wondered. His eyes darted across Henry’s face, as though he thought he had a better chance of finding an answer in his pores and his eyeballs than of getting an answer verbally. “You don’t need to keep all this shit to yourself.”

Henry shrugged. He honestly wasn’t sure. Part of him had wanted to avoid Career Guidance Lucy and her sporadic seminars on interview skills. Part of him had dreaded the inevitable words of encouragement that Donnacha and Payton would no doubt have offered him, making it feel like an even bigger deal, an even more profound failure, when he didn’t get the jobs. He’d wanted to secure a new gig in secret, and mention it casually to his flatmates after the fact.

Anything else was just asking for too much attention, building up too many expectations...

A weak gurgle broke the silence, and Henry instinctively covered his stomach with his palm. Donnacha’s eyes followed the movement. A second later, there was a deeper sound, a hollow grumble that Henry felt tickle at the back of his throat.

“Have you eaten today?”

“Yes. I’m not hungry,” he added, already knowing that Donnacha was going to suggest, once again, that he join the others for pizza and Flatmate Friday. It was just unfortunate that his belly decided to rumble for a third time.

“Somehow, I think you're lying to me.”

“No - you don’t get it,” Henry sighed. Noting that Donnacha had left the door ajar and that Lucy was just down the hallway in the living area, he lowered his voice and leaned a little closer to Donnacha’s shoulder. “After my second interview... my only interview, in the end,” Henry growled, kicking his past self yet again, “I felt so sick to my stomach that I threw up my lunch.”

Donnacha looked positively wounded with sympathy. Henry wondered how the hell he managed it.

“Hen...” Donnacha’s hand pushed gently into Henry’s hair again.

It was all Henry could do not to whimper and melt into the touch. He settled for letting his eyes flutter shut. He didn’t deserve the tingling pleasure that was flowing from Donnacha’s fingertips into his skull, softening the sparking, frayed edges of his nerves.

“I’ll bring you your slices, if you want them.”

Henry shook his head. He might have been trembling with emotion now, rather than nausea, but he still didn’t feel up to putting anything in his stomach.

“I’ll bring mine, too. We can hang out in here, watch our own movie.”

“No,” he choked out, pulling away from Donnacha’s hand and resting his head on the pillow again.

“Just give me one minute.” Donnacha didn’t hesitate another second before getting up from the bed and tackling the obstacle course that was Henry’s bedroom floor one more time.

Henry buried his face in his pillow, part of him hoping that Donnacha would somehow change his mind while he was out there and not come back. Part of him felt extremely cold and hollow at the thought of him changing his mind and not coming back.

These feelings were confusing. Henry didn’t like it when feelings were confusing. Maybe that was what prompted him to groan in displeasure when Donnacha returned, carrying a plate laden with at least five slices of pepperoni pizza. The smell made Henry’s stomach growl with hunger that felt a lot like nausea, or... nausea that felt a lot like hunger.

“You can’t be in here,” Henry muttered as Donnacha leaned over the mess to prop the plate on the edge of Henry’s desk.

“Ah, ah,” Donnacha sang, darting from the room again. This time, he came back with his laptop, which he propped on Henry’s desk chair – after removing a few pairs of underwear that had been tossed onto it. “What were you saying?”

Henry sighed and pushed himself up onto his side. That spike of agony still trailed from the outside of his eye socket to the centre of his brain. He couldn’t allow his mind to drift anywhere near the memories of the day without feeling the shame turn over in his belly. But he had to admit, Donnacha’s presence was a lot like a hot cup of tea on a chilly day.

“It’s Flatmate Friday.” Henry waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the living area. “Flatmate bonding and whatnot.”

“You’re my flatmate, too,” Donnacha pointed out. He looked away from his laptop and glanced about the room, no doubt analysing the mixture of washed and unwashed laundry littering the floor. “And I have a feeling I’ve... we’ve all been neglecting you a little bit.”

Henry’s empty, knotted stomach attempted to do a little flip. “You sound like Lu.”

Looking slightly pleased with himself, Donnacha gave a shrug. “Maybe she’s a good influence on me. Only Fools and Horses?”

“Sure.” Henry didn’t particularly care for the 80s sitcom, but it always seemed to draw a chuckle or two out of Donnacha.

Donnacha positioned himself at the lower half of Henry’s bed, one leg crossed under the opposite knee while his foot trailed off the side. It was a long way for him to reach to grab a slice of pizza from the place, but he did so heroically with only a tiny exhalation of strain. Henry took his pillow and pressed it to the back wall, forcing himself to sit upright even though it made his head spin and his bones feel like jelly.

After five minutes of staring numbly at the laptop screen and listening to Donnacha chew not one but two slices of pizza, the spinning and the weakness started to pass, and the shifting in Henry’s stomach felt less like a natural disaster waiting to happen and more like an empty plea for sustenance. He gingerly reached for a slice of the pizza, and was oddly relieved when Donnacha didn’t make a big deal out of it; he just leaned around Henry and grabbed a third slice for himself.

A few bites in, and Henry’s mind started to wander. Sleeping in, not feeling motivated enough, insulting the work of a dead person, lazily forgetting social etiquette –

The spices in the pepperoni and the tanginess of the tomato sauce drained away until the next bite of pizza felt like a mouthful of cardboard.

Henry chewed painfully leaning over to place the half-eaten slice back at the edge of the plate. Chewing was an ordeal almost as unpleasant as that afternoon’s bout of dry-heaving, which he had no desire to repeat.

He brushed the crumbs from his fingers onto the plaid fabric of his pyjamas pants, making a note to change them before bed, and sank back against the pillow. Dough and cheese and sauce sloshed around in his stomach, and he started to lift a hand to rub at it, but a large, protective one made it there first.

Donnacha didn’t even look away from the screen as he rubbed his hand back and forth. “Doing okay?”

“I think so,” Henry murmured, flinching as his stomach squelched under Donnacha’s palm and then began to settle into a gentler churning motion. He wondered if Donnacha had any idea the effect he was having.

And then Donnacha laughed out loud at an on-screen joke that Henry just didn’t get, and Henry had to fight just to keep his eye-rolling subtle.

#Lucyverse Henry #emeto #emeto sickfic #sickfic #hurt comfort #hurt and comfort #anxiety mention #anxiety induced sickness #depression mention #bad mental health mention #hurt comfort fic #platonic caretaking

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beelzeboobie-enthusiast · 1 year

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Obey Me! MC with chronic pain/fatigue

This is so self-indulgent and I have no regrets. Small warning, I didn’t have much to say about Belphie because I uhhhhh kinda don’t like him very much atm. I tried and failed ;-; If I get more fond of him as time goes on I’ll definitely go back and edit this. Without further ado, I present headcanons for each of the demon brothers with an MC who has chronic pain and fatigue issues. Lucifer -Lucifer feels a bit guilty for choosing you of all people to be dragged down to the Devildom as an exchange student. He hadn’t realized you had chronic issues that made your regular day-to-day life hard. It definitely would be detrimental for you to be thrown into such a stressful situation.

-But what’s done is done, and now you’re stuck here. -He’s glad to see you adjust after a while and takes it upon himself to subtly assist with whatever extra support you might need.

-Have trouble walking because of leg/back pain? A mysterious cane appears in your room one day when you wake up. No note attached, but you can tell by the way he watches out of the corner of his eye when you walk into the dining room that he knows where it came from.

-If you ever need a day off from class because you’re too tired or in too much pain, he’s shockingly (to you) understanding. Of course, he warns you that missing class can effect grades badly, but he never scolds you for it. Sometimes you almost get the feeling that he can sense when you’re having a bad day. Mammon -He’s clueless. -Chronic pain? Huh? Whatdya mean you hurt without being physically injured? -It takes him a while to really get it, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t supportive in whatever way he can be. -In fact, he becomes a little TOO supportive. Protective, even. -His human already hurts, ain’t no dumbass demons gonna make it worse for them. -He goes overboard with it sometimes, but gentle reminders that you aren’t fragile or broken help keep him in line. Everything he does is out of love- ahem, I mean, just not wanting you to die or whatever because then he’d get in big trouble with Lucifer. -If you ever express that you want something specific to help with your pain or fatigue, such as a heating pad, he’ll get one for you (as soon as he has money again, that is). Of course, it’s on one condition- you’ve got to share it with him. Be prepared to have him attempt to sandwich the heating pad between the two of you because ‘it’s technically his’. He totally doesn’t just want to cuddle or something. Psshh, as if. -He definitely does. Leviathan -It’s worrying and kind of weird to him. Why would human bodies go haywire like that? Is it contagious? -He’s really not great at figuring out ways to help, but if you ask him to help you out with something he will (as long as he doesn’t have other matters to attend to, like a new game release). -He’s more likely to help and take notice once the two of you get closer with each other. -If you end up missing a lot of in-person class time, he’ll help you navigate the ins and outs of virtual learning. You two end up doing homework together a lot, helping each other figure out lessons that you can’t quite understand on your own. You have a system and it works shockingly well- even Lucifer is surprised by the way simply spending time with you on schoolwork boosts Levi’s grades.

-Feel free to hang out in his room to watch him play games if you’re feeling low energy. Satan -Probably the most interested in your condition (not in a weird way, I promise). -The Devildom has books from the human realm, but not many modern medical texts so he’s not very up-to-date on his knowledge. As long as you’re okay with it, he’ll want to hear about the details of you chronic illness like what it is and why it happens. -He’s never had a lot of interest in humans before you showed up, but now he’s fascinated. -It’s not all scholarly either- he likes you and wants to know more about what you’re dealing with so he can find ways to help, whether that means with your symptoms, treatments, or talking sense into his brothers when they’re accidentally insensitive to your needs. Asmodeus -Speaking of insensitive- he’s got the spirit, at least. Unfortunately it can be annoying. -It takes him a long time to understand that being cheerful and upbeat won’t make your aches and tiredness go away. One day he stops that type of attempt entirely- you get the sneaking suspicion that Satan gave him a scolding after you vented to him about being irritated with Asmo’s take on the condition you knew better than anyone. -After the abrupt stop, he changes from telling you to cheer up to telling you it’s okay to take it easy when you need to. You’re a little wary at first, worried he might not really understand yet and could go back to being insensitive, but after a while it becomes pretty clear that he gets it now. -Be prepared for so many impromptu ‘spa nights’. Whether its combinations of products that should help you sleep better or warm baths to soothe your aching body, he’s determined to pamper you. -He even offers to let you sleep in his bed since the mattress and pillows are, according to him, the best the Devildom has to offer. Beelzebub -If you thought Beel was sweet before he knew about your struggles, be prepared for saccharine overload after he finds out. -Whether he hears it from you or from one of his brothers, the next thing on his mind is finding out more. It’s not quite the same as Satan’s desire to learn everything about your condition- instead, it’s more focused on how you feel and what he can do to help. -He’s a protector, and heaven be damned if he isn’t going to protect you too- even if it’s protecting you from your own body. -It’s like knowing you’re in pain makes all thoughts of hunger disappear from his head. He can’t worry about food for himself when he’s got his human to worry about. He’ll even go out in search of ‘safe’ foods for you if there’s none in the kitchen that you can eat. (Of course, he’ll pick up some other snacks for himself while he’s out- you can eat together!) -His size and warm body temperature make him perfect for cuddling on achey days, too. He’s more than happy to let you cling to him if it makes you feel better. He’ll even tolerate frigid fingers pressed against his warm skin for you to ‘steal his body heat’. -And if you need help getting around? Say no more. He’ll carry you anywhere you need to go. Belphegor -Look, he cares that you’re in pain, but he can’t be bothered to get out of bed for it. He’s more than happy to let you tuck in with him, though. -He’s a little more understanding about the fatigue- while most of his sleepiness is just a result of his sin, Sloth, he understands what it’s like to be uncontrollably tired. -Unsurprisingly, his solution to this is the same as his solution to your pain- crawl into bed and sleep. It’s bizarre to him that you don’t always want to sleep when your body tells you it’s tired. -He’s sure Beel will take care of the other stuff.

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drainbangle · 10 months

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Hey, I was just reading up on your OT2 X Persona au and I am LOVING it so far! Mind giving some more details even if it’s just some small facts?

Thank you so much!! And yeah, I got a bunch— warning for full-game spoilers of course:

Temenos uses a cane due to an accident he had when he was a child. He can walk/run/etc. without it on some days, but even then he carries it on hand just in case— albeit, in parts since he uses a foldable one. In the cognitive world, he uses his staff as a walking aid.

Since most of Castti's belongings (including her spare clothes) were lost, she has to buy new ones. I think a lot of her early fits tend to be really plain, but become more consistent and distinct as the year goes on.

Some characters' availability vary depending on things such as weather and physical condition. Castti is unavailable on rainy days due to (what she does not initially recognize as) trauma, and Temenos is unavailable during the daytime on heat waves due to chronic pain flaring up.

Many more HC's under the cut due to length.

Crick's dominant hand is permanently injured after the events of when SH would take place in the timeline. Besides visceral function manipulation for damage sustained to his abdominal area, he also has to undergo treatment for peripheral neuropathy in his right/dominant hand.

Osvald's arc in the main story involves ensuring Elena's safety and regaining custody of her (listen we got only a year of story we're speedrunning legal stuff here sometimes), so his SL involves re-establishing their relationship as a family and healing.

Ori is the most active on social media due to her occupation as a journalist. She often gets early access to things such as shows and celebrity events as a result, along with the latest news for what's going on in the city.

Hikari's texts are the most formal with proper punctuation and everything. Osvald's are the classic illegible dad texts.

Everyone's housing situations

Temenos and Osvald room together at Temenos' place due to circumstances. While they tend to operate on very differing levels of talkativeness versus not, they've definitely had long nights of debate on their shared interests— primarily, history. They also have periods of just long silence doing whatever in the same room before going "hey I have an idea about that one thing—" or similar.

Ochette and Agnea both live at New Delsta University's dorms. While Ochette isn't a student there specifically, she stays in the dorms as part of her internship. IDT they're roommates atm, but they definitely live on the same floor. Due to both shared proximity and a passion for exercise, they also go work out together.

Note about NDU's campus: I named it after NYU, and while I don't go there things like its dorms are based loosely off of it. The dorms Ochette and Agnea stay at are probably *does a cursory NYU dorms search* based on Carlyle Court??

Castti's apartment was close to a small clinic she was apparently chief physician of; however, it was lost to a bizarre disaster (read: Trousseau turning against the rest of the group with his Persona). When she goes to inquire about who she was, all that she's able to recover is a matching wedding band of her own— which she wears on a necklace chain underneath her scrubs. It was Malaya's.

CW: Abuse. Hikari chooses to leave his home after Mugen takes over their father's position, as Mugen mistreated him even before this happened, often verbally and sometimes physically abusing him. While this is pretty much an open secret, Hikari still had some protection due to their father being around. But with him comatose (and later, straight up dead) Hikari does not feel safe staying there. He does have a good amount of funds to start though, so he buys his own place. IDT it's super fancy but it's still a huge step up from even Temenos' place, which is probably pretty decent considering he's an established lawyer and all.

Throné has to find a new place to stay after choosing to leave the snakes. She finds herself rooming with Hikari, as his place is so spacious he definitely has room for a roomie.

Partitio found a place of his own relatively quickly after coming to town, and it's pretty decent.

Ori joins the team near the end of the year after she's revealed as a Moonshade Order member, but backs out of helping them bring back Vide. Because she doesn't want to be found by its still-living members, she crashes with Ochette and Agnea.

Crick shares an apartment with Ort, who is also an assistant prosecuting attorney. …I'm going to be honest I didn't realize that this would be the case when making Crick a lawyer, and now I've made the one guy with the surname Edgeworth a prosecutor.

#octopath #8path tag #ot2 au: persona #telegram #octopath 2 spoilers #ppl that hc temenos to be a cane-user in modern settings are so correct btw. it rules #ty for the ask btw! i'm slowly making my way thru the other ones in my inbox but i'm always happy to talk persona au hehe #it's real fun to figure out how to adapt story beats in a modern setting. esp one where the gang has to stay in one city

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musashi · 3 months

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headcannons why vk senior needs his cane? is his disability from old age or an injury or what do you think?

i've genuinely never thought about it in detail and i always describe it kinda vaguely as chronic pain of some flavour when i write it haha i should probably actually solidify some headcanons... my easiest guess is combo of old age + standing all fucking day (why do they make the lawyers stand. give them chairs)

but i am open to licherally any ideas i just love that he's a cane user

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daveyfvckingjacobs · 3 months

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hey guys remember those wheel of time tweets I made ages ago well I made au designs for them and will now ramble because fuck it I love modern aus

I tried to keep the general outfits/colour palettes aligned with the canon show costuming and basically plucked as many details as possibly from the books to shove in there. the amount of detail makes my favourites apparent but shush x

mat:

-hearing aid from damaged hearing due to a freak lightning strike (he’s deaf totally in one ear, because he was closer than rand)

-missing eye from an infection after he got glass behind it mucking about. he usually wears either a clear or brown prosthetic but has funky ones and an eyepatch too

-his remaining eye is very light sensitive and weak due to the lightning so he carries a sunflower lanyard because he just Cannot Exist on his right side

-lots of patched up, baggy clothes that he usually fixes up from second hand shops

-he/it agender because fuck it look at him

-his sisters painted his nails pink <3

-caked in mud almost 24/7 because he likes dragging rand and perrin out on adventures

rand:

-matching hearing aid to mat, only in one ear because his hearing is better as he was further from the lightning

-lost his hand in a car accident that also left him chronic pain from a badly healed abdominal wound. he supports himself when standing/walking with the cane, and the pain is inconsistent and triggered with strenuous movement or random

-eyes are similarly sensitive as mat’s but again, less so

-stickers <3 there’s a heron one on that cane somewhere trust me, the scale was just too small

-he’s such a jumper guy look at season one, and double denim but it’s allowed because he’s cute

-mud caked due to mat

perrin:

-perrin I’m so sorry darling I struggled with you so much

-burns on his arms and over his hands from apprenticing as a metal worker

-equally mud caked from mat

-he has a wolfhound rescue called hopper, who follows him around everywhere

#mats scarf is purely aesthetic unless you wanna go down a much darker route #other than that I love them very much they are very silly #wheel of time on prime #wheel of time #wot #the wheel of time #mat cauthon #rand al'thor #perrin aybara #wheel of time art #tanner draws #modern au #modern wheel of time #robert jordan #wheel of time show #wheel of time book spoilers

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glowstone23b · 10 months

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Hallo. I just saw your post about piglin man who is stuck in the overworld and all that, and you said if I asked you then you wouldnt stop talking about him. I want to hear it all. You sound like you have such an intricate plan for him, or at least did, and I would love to hear it

Loving you forever!!!! Okay you asked for it, beware! Here are some screenshots of the Man Himself in game through a server download I have of the old world. He's got a little minecart chair :)

The third pic is of his 'brain', per se, which is pretty simple redstone comparatively (but I'm not a redstoner, so I'm rather proud of it), which accepts gifts, quest items, and junk items, and will give gifts and responses in return. There's a dispenser right underneath the minecart he's in that would dispense the items he gave, and you could press the button on the wall to talk to him.

Fourth and fifth images are some screenshots of a puzzle I made for a quest he gave, which was INSANE by my standards! I didn't have much time to play, so being able to mine out such a big area, making redstone mechanisms aplenty, and terraforming like nuts, was pretty awesome for one person! The puzzle in the floor was controlled by levers to get a minecart at the bottom to end up in the right place so you could reach it. Along the top layer, there were potion-activated doors that'd drop down the gravel and concrete powder sections to reveal other blocks (after having 'transformed' them...). This was just to restock his gold supply & study other things from the overworld, but it was a BLAST to build!! The railways on the upper level had minecarts constantly riding through with other goodies, and would have been a way to get to a future quest later on down the line. Super proud of it still, I adore it very much!

Flint had a 'trust' system of sorts, where he'd get warmer to you the more things you did for him & open up to you! It was pretty neat! I just liked piglins (but the person I made the quests for at the time was who got me more interested in them), so he was who I ended up making. Later on, he's evolved a good bit!!!

He's roughlyyyyy in his thirties-fourties in human years (somewhere around 20-30 in piglin? still figuring that out), and about 6 1/2 to 7 feet tall when standing. He's really sweet and gentle once you get him to open up to you, but if you're not a piglin, that may take a while of de-traumatizing... He works at home as a caretaker for the piglets in the bastion, but helps where needed, which is how he got himself in the Overworld in the first place. His bastion specializes in potionmaking, so he has some limited knowledge of brewing that helped him get by. Regen & health potions helped a good bit, but not enough to prevent chronic pain after the whole ordeal. I'm still deciding on whether or not he'd use a cane or a crutch/crutches once he's healed, but he'd definitely be a little worse for wear than he was. On his free time, he loves carving gold! He likes to make hair beads, charms, or little trinkets to give to his little ones-- they go crazy for them!

There's so so so much I could go into detail on, but I feel I'd need some good drawings to illustrate my point alongside all my text. Clothing styles, transmission & aftereffects of zombification, husbandry of striders and hoglins, economy and trade routes, professions, bastion layouts, and just... any random tidbits I've picked up. So, so many! Anyways. This is mostly regarding his in game self, but hopefully I can draw a bit and share some info and little moments about him later on. Thank you for indulging me!! :D

#piglin #piglin oc #minecraft #minecraft piglin #Glowstone23b text #Flintbairn #Flaintbairn my beloved. heart eyes forever #i'm holding him so gently in the palm of my hand. rotate him in my head always #why am i like this? who knows. however you all will have to listen to my ramblings i guess!

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feralshadowdemon · 23 days

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IVAN, bram, fukuchi, and a fellow of your choice

woah. so many (this got pretty long, so click the keep reading to see all of them) ivan sexuality hc: gay, possibly demisexual/demiromantic(?) gender hc: transmasc/ftm (occasionally), cis (primarily) a more in-depth hc, however, is i think he honestly is so. he isn't connected to gender really, he likes he/him and that's what he's stuck with, but if he was in the right situation, he might experiment a ship i have with said character: shibusawa x ivan, which is almost entirely based off of aus, a BROTP i have with said character: i don't really have one? but ivan & pushkin deserved more screentime together. imo. a NOTP i have with said character: i don't like f.yovan at all personally. it just. doesn't work for me and never will most likely a random headcanon: he has tics!! it's a random headcanon i picked up one day but i've held it close to my heart since + body imagery issues would be real for him general opinion over said character: my beloved blorbo i picked up randomly after deciding to write him one day. he deserved way more screentime than when he got, i'm so curious about his past and also his dynamics with other characters besides fyodor? i want to see a conspiracy board of everything about him ever. wish i had more to say but canon doesn't have much to work with so i am cooking him in my little pan

bram sexuality hc: ace spectrum, male preference gender hc: he's probably cis for me. wish i had more to say about it but that's it a ship i have with said character: bram x lovecraft <3 a BROTP i have with said character: bram should interact with other older characters in bsd (hirotsu, fukuzawa, etc.) that's. that's my take a NOTP i have with said character: none a random headcanon: chronic pains even after regaining the rest of his body, possible mobility aid needed like a cane or such general opinion over said character: i loved him since i saw him! i loved him even more after reading dracula. i do really like how the vampires (and him) seem to have a regeneration ability like the original vampires in dracula, it's a small detail but i do really Love how bram's ability works and also just his design?? and how he has claws/long nails?? i hope he and aya get to bond more fukuchi sexuality hc: ....i don't actually have any for him gender hc: probably cis, possibly he/they pronouns if he feels like it a ship i have with said character: fukuzawa x fukuchi but specifically past fukuzawa x fukuchi a BROTP i have with said character: dont think i have a brotp for him. but i do think we need more fics exploring his dynamics with the hunting dogs!! Please a NOTP i have with said character: none that i can think of at the moment, besides possibly teruko and fukuchi's shipname if they have one a random headcanon: he has specific signals for the hunting dogs in situations where he has to be subtle somewhat or has to get their attention (i.e: whistling to tell them to stop what they're doing, if he claps it's a sign for them to regroup, snapping fingers means scatter/spread out) general opinion over said character: underrated character. i wish he had more fics but a lot of people don't really? write him? which is fine, but i have never seen that man get a character study despite how many rambles i could go on about his character. i love him a lot and i think he'd give the best compression hugs ever. i need to write him asap. fellow of my choice: beast!mori

i unfortunately, do not have many headcanons for him at all however, general opinion over said character: i think people don't talk about him and beast!elise enough, imo. they fascinate me and i like seeing a universe where mori strays off of the port mafia boss pass and becomes the orphanage director, not to mention he seems to become a better person? though because of the little content we get of them (and it's on the last volume, iirc) we don't really get good grasps of their characters. i'd love to write a fic with him taking care of the orphans and atsushi though

#tyty for the ask.. too sleepy to use special moot tags so #mutuals tag #bsd #ask game #very fun to answer!!#ask #i do NOT feel like tagging all of these characters

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whumpy-writings · 2 years

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The Long Road

Takes place during Henri’s first couple months with Aldon

Of Vampires and Men Masterlist

CW: Vampires, slavery, PTSD, nightmares, panic attack, self harm (scratching), past torture, chronic pain

The sun was just starting to rise as Henri climbed into bed. The days were getting shorter, the nights longer, as autumn approached. Henri sighed contentedly as he slid under the soft blankets. This was the first time in years that the changing of the seasons didn’t fill him with absolute dread. Aldon had given him warm clothes, sweaters and thick pants and slippers. It was a far cry from the days he had spent shivering in his cell with only a thin shirt and pants to keep out the chill. Henri winced at the memory. I never have to go back there, he told himself, Aldon’s my owner now, and he won’t hurt me.

It had become a sort of mantra for him. He had to keep reminding himself that this was real, that he was safe and protected and wouldn’t be hurt ever again. Some days he actually believed it. But other days he couldn’t shake the fear that this wasn’t real, that his mind had finally cracked and he was still back with Old Master, still being hurt. And some days he couldn’t breathe when his body attacked him and he curled up on the floor, sobbing as he shook and his mind told him he was going to die. Thankfully, the bad days weren’t happening as frequently. Instead of everyday, they were only a couple days a week. And on those bad days, Aldon would hold him close, wrapping Henri in his strong arms, creating a barrier between him and the world. Today had been a good day. It had also been a feeding day, and even though he had taken a nap earlier, the venom was still making him drowsy. Henri drifted off to sleep easily.

Henri woke up gasping for air, skin coated in cold sweat and legs tangled in the sheets. He could still hear Master’s voice, feel the crack of the cane against his back. He tried to breathe, but his lungs wouldn’t work. His heart was pounding right out of his chest. Tears were flowing down his cheeks. Gods. He curled up into a ball as he sobbed. It’ll be over soon, just breathe. But he couldn’t seem to get a handle on his breath, couldn’t find the control. The panic clawed at his throat. He started scratching at his arms, the pain grounding him. One thought lanced through his mind. Al. He needed Al.

Henri slipped out of bed. His legs almost gave way when they hit the floor. Shakily, he leaned against the wall, sweat dripping from his brow. He slowly padded down the hall to Aldon’s room, hand against the wall to give him something solid to hold on to. He hesitated at the door. It was the middle of the day, he didn’t want to wake Al. But… he couldn’t be alone with his thoughts right now. With the panic. He hesitantly knocked on the door.

…

“Come in,” Aldon said, voice thick with sleep. What time was it? Then he saw Henri standing in the doorway. He was shaking. Aldon immediately sat up in bed.

“Henri, what’s wrong?”

“I-I had a nightmare. And now I’m having a panic attack,” Henri’s voice was shaking, “Can I sleep with you?”

“Of course love,” Aldon said, scooting over and patting the space next to him. Henri climbed in, immediately snuggling into Aldon’s chest. Aldon wrapped his arms around the human and bent down, placing a gentle kiss on Henri’s forehead. His eyes caught the red scratches down Henri’s arms and he held him tighter.

“I’m sorry for hurting myself,” Henri said softly. “I’m trying not to, I really am, but sometimes I’m not strong enough.”

“Oh love,” Aldon said. “You’re trying and that’s what important. Recovery takes time.”

Henri’s tears were warm where they soaked through Aldon’s shirt. Aldon ran a hand through Henri’s hair, gently humming. The human’s breathing gradually evened out and his shaking lessened.

“Do you want to talk about it? Your dream. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help.” Henri didn’t talk about the details of his nightmares or his past often, and Aldon didn’t press. But he always gave Henri the option of talking if he wanted to.

Henri shifted in Aldon’s arms and Aldon started in surprise when he began to speak. “I-I was back with Old Master. He was yelling at me and I couldn’t make out what he was saying, I could just tell that he was furious. Then…” Henri trailed off. Aldon could hear his heart starting to pound again.

“Deep breaths, love, deep breaths,” Aldon said, rubbing his back.

“Then he beat me,” Henri whispered. “It was so real, like I was back there being hurt even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. It was so real.” Henri started crying.

“I’m so sorry Henri,” Aldon whispered, holding him close. For a while Aldon just held him. Eventually, he continued speaking.

“I was hurt in the EFSP too. But the pain was only used as a punishment for disobedience. As long as you followed the rules they wouldn’t hurt you. But Master… he hurt me just because he could. He had a terrible temper, but he was trying to control it. So he would take out all his anger on me. I was his punching bag. He beat me. Usually he used his fists, but sometimes he would use a cane. He broke so many bones,” Henri’s voice cracked. “And the worst part was there was nothing I could do. It didn’t matter how obedient I was or how much I begged. He still hurt me.”

Aldon closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Henri hadn’t told him about the cane before.

“Sometimes it still hurts. Where he broke my leg. It’s been getting bad again lately,” Henri said quietly.

Aldon gently cupped Henri’s face in his hand. Henri leaned into the touch, closing his eyes.

“I’m so so sorry that you had to go through that Henri,” Aldon paused. “Thank you for telling me about your leg. I’ll do what I can to help you with the pain. Where does it hurt?”

“Right here,” Henri said, gesturing to his thigh.

“He broke your femur?” Aldon said, a growl in his voice. Henri shrank back, his heart rate picking up. Aldon felt a stab of guilt.

“I’m sorry Henri, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just thinking about how much I would like to kill the man who did this to you.” Henri leaned back against Aldon, sighing a little.

He pulled Henri close, inhaling the human’s scent. The stench of fear still lingered, but it was faint.

“Would you like to take a bath? Hot water should help with the pain.” Henri shook his head.

“It’s not bad right now. I would rather just stay here with you, if that’s okay?”

“Of course love. You can stay as long as you want.”

Tag list: @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whump-cravings @thecyrulik @neverthelass @michelleswhumpyreblogs @whumpsy-daisy @the-monarch-whumperfly @aswallowimprisoned @secretwhumplair @whumpzone @whots-a-tag-precious @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @nicolepascaline @susiequaz12 @kittysselfships @puffball-lover554 @itsleighlove @pumpkin-spice-whump @wiwinia @sunflower1000 @whump-blog

#of vampires and men #henri the human #aldon the vampire #vampires tw #slavery tw #ptsd tw #nightmares tw #panic attack tw #self harm tw #scratching tw #torture tw #chronic pain tw #vampire caretaker #human whumpee #emotional whump

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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Hey so I saw your really good writing post where ironwood and watts are alive and I’d love to ask: How do you write so well with cannon characters? I’ve been wanting to incorporate the likes of ironwood/Aceops and likely Tyrian/Watts into my fanwork but I’ve always struggled to write with oc’s that ‘arent mine’. Any tips?

Thank you, anon! It’s always fascinating to hear how individual writers approach their work because I’m the exact opposite: I always struggle to write my own characters more than others’.

But hmm, tips... Probably the biggest (and most obvious) is to just refamiliarize yourself with the canon a bit before writing. I like to get the characters’ voices back into my head, so to speak, especially when I’ve just been writing someone else. I was working on a Witcher fic the other day and went, “Why doesn’t Regis sound right? Why is his dialogue bugging me? Ohhh, I’m writing him like he’s Ozpin. As ancient, teasing, know-it-alls they have many similarities, yeah, but they’re still distinct characters with their own speech patterns.” So I go back and watch an Ozpin scene to get his voice clear again. Sort of erase Regis for a while, you know? That’s why I often struggle to write in fandoms whose canons I’m not currently engaged with. It can feel sort of like homework to go back and refamiliarize myself with the canon enough to get started, but if I’m already watching/reading/playing the canon in my free time, we’re good to go.

Same with body language. You can make the character feel “correct” if you draw on the habits that the show has already established. Some are pretty obvious, like referring to Ozpin’s cane and mug. But for those characters who don’t have accessories, you can still draw on their most common movements. If you’re writing Ironwood, he’s not going to be walking around slouched like Qrow does. He’s always ram-rod straight, hands behind his back, very serious and, obviously, military-like. When he does slouch — like against a wall — it’s because something pretty intense is going on. He sighs a lot, tends to pinch the bridge of his nose when he’s stressed, moves between measured, clipped tones and sudden shouts, tends to give rare but very earnest smiles... There are lots of little details that you can include, details your audience will likely pick up on (even if it’s not conscious) to make the character feel familiar.

The good news though is that even after you figure out how this character moves, talks, what actions they’d likely take, etc.... you can still write much of them like they were an OC. Taking Ironwood as an example again, we don’t know a thing about his backstory, so huge swaths of his identity are up to interpretation. You could give him any hobby and it would work simply by virtue of us having no canonical hobbies to compare them to. You could write him has having a very different personality in his youth and explain what changed him along the way. Does he hold himself stiffly because of that military training, or because he experiences chronic pain from his prosthetics? There are endless possibilities! And provided you sprinkle in some of those details and keep things along a somewhat familiar track (AUs an exception), the rest is malleable. Is Ironwood the kind of person to say screw Remnant and go live in a magical vault paradise while the rest of the world burns? No, but he is the sort of person who would defend his city against all reason and he is in a traumatic situation he’s never experienced before, meaning he might accept the above under those conditions. You can make your characters do almost anything that’s “OC” provided you’ve given a reason in your story that gets them there. So yeah, you can practice paying attention to what makes them them, but also don’t be scared to write them however you please. It’s your fic!

#rwby #writing #sweet messages #Anonymous

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dothediscokim · 3 years

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in season 2 of house now. still need to watch further in this rewatch of house. comparisons are small and limited, but enough that give me au brain worms for doctor harrier du bois and i'm gonna bullet point out some ideas for a hospital/medical au for disco elysium inspired by house so please wait with abate breathe while i figure it out how this would work for an au

i'd say join me in watching house, warning about plenty of angst and good old 2000s queerbaiting except this show they really start to hand it to you in s4 and s6 and then crush your soul in s8... anyways some spoilers as i explain some logistics of this idea; this definitely wouldn't be a 1:1 kind of au; but the key concepts. some warnings of spoilers for house under the cut but not too major

admittedly some of this will fall apart just given this is a US show and DE is very european and i'm a us citizen and fan, so i've got a hardwired american-centric framing of mind Buuuuuutt adjustments can be made the comparisons are more the key concept and not the detail comparison

key concepts

asshole addict doctor (house) - translate to pre-amnesia harrier

said doctor is an absolute brilliant genius in his field (diagnostician) - translation here being we are given the idea that harry was a genius detective; so again why we'd translate house to harry

patients come in as cases that are sudden and the diagnosis is hard to find at first

house can be mischievous around the hospital and to his co-workers; wants interesting cases, works in odd ways -> see again harry

the 41st definitely not 1:1 translating onto the rest of the cast; but the general idea of the tight-ish knit / somewhate special unit that is hired/picked out by house -> again literally harry created the unit, and house has his ducklings

reminder that the hospital that house works out; is a very specific kind of house, and that is it is a teaching hospital, so it has med students and the doctors and heads of departments do have lectures at the local university/college to the med students, and med students come to work or take residence at the teaching hospital ( house with his ducklings as its called in the fandom -> house picked them out to be on his "team" for solving and brainstorming possible diagnosis and treatments ) anyways that's where you can see that 41st' mcu woudl translate into that and dynamics aren't specifically needed as a 1:1

okay so 41st in a hospital

the people in house's "unit" and house's co-workers and "friends" are usually the ones that have to cover for house, or defend house when he does something that risk the hosptial reputation or funding (there's a whoel plot) and Cuddy & Wilson specifically get on House's case about his ethics but are also the biggest two that will fight for house as a doctor

so that's why I'd read Jean here as sort of both; since it's obvious Jean did that A LOT for Harry

and then for a small, not 1:1 comparsion ; but we meet house when he is still pining for his ex after 5 years ( it's a whole plot line in s1 ), and just interesting cause dora and harry were 6 years and that wrecked harry.. andi mean house was wrecked by it, but there was an additional layer of house's leg ( which is a big thing for the house and about house; it's why he is addicted to pain killers, because he suffered an <cant' think of word> related to his leg, and now suffers chronic pain and uses a cane and gets addicted to pain killers and i am not explaining this too well at all )

anywyas somewhat lining up is harry and house get stuck on exs and love very much; but harry definitely in a worse way since he has the whole goddess religious elevation; but house and this ex ( who comes a character and appears as a plotline for a few episodes ) just I DONT KNOW my brain is hyperfixated on Disco Elysium so the brian worms are gonna find everything they can to link everyhting bakc to disco elysium hence this whole post about house au for disco elysium

but also another reason for comparison is the kind of nihilism that house and harry exhibit and the addiction and the slight suicidal idealation

also just very surface comparison; but house has his limp in one leg, and then by the end of disco elysium harry takes the bullet to the leg, and has the limp in the leg and just IDK leg thing

it'd probably work best-ish as harry/jean-ish, though again the main relationship in the show is the friendship (that feels very queerbaity) with hilson; but i wouldnt say wilson and jean line up too well, like i said this au and coverting house core concepts to disco elysium as an idea or using house md as a sort of ground work, but the comparsions are very minimal, but anyways this would probably start with pre-apocalyptic amnesia harry, because house is a manipulative asshole and addict and that's what we can infer from the former harrier, and then s5 (spoilers) is when house's addiction starts to cause hallucinations and this could be the place for apocalyptical amnesia for good old harry to be inserted in the idea, and just i don't the basis of hilson/house is a long term friendship; and you'd see with jean/harry more so over all... compared to say kim/jean. but kim could special feature.

#disco elysium #have these brain worms #might do another bullet point thought and focus MORE on like how this au could actually work out #and then adjust everything to fit and just bullet point you some ideas about doctor harry and shit #and the 41st MCU is hospital staff and the rcm is just standardized hospitals and the 41st is a specifically teaching hospital

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angstyaches · 2 years

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something appeals to me about the idea of henry, who has been forced to learn to take care of himself because his body does not cooperate otherwise, telling donnacha off for not looking after himself properly when he’s injured. he strikes me as the type that might try to walk something off that he should really just sit down and ice for a while… especially if he had endured some lowkey (not mean-spirited) teasing about it from his team

I don't think there's anything better than hearing about these detailed, specific scenarios that people come up with for your OCs. Thank you for this lovely idea, anon!

CW: chronic pain, sports injury (lightly described), enduring injury to save face, general awkwardness for a minute, food mention.

___

Living with someone like Donnacha, Henry often thought, was a lot like living with an energetic dog. At least twice a week, he went around to the flatmates' rooms and tried to convince someone to take a walk with him, he got over-excited every time he heard the postman put something through the letterbox, and snatched up leftover food, often before it'd even been put back in the fridge.

And Henry didn't know a lot about dogs, but he did know that if something was wrong with your dog - a sickness or an injury - then chances were it would go off its food.

"Do you want some chicken?"

Henry looked up from his screen. He'd been having a good mental health day, so he'd dug his laptop out and set himself up on the living room couch to improve his chances of some human interaction.

Donnacha was holding a clear oven dish that had once held a whole, cooked chicken, which had been picked clean on one side the previous day. To some, half a leftover chicken might have seemed like a lot, but it was a standard serving size for Donnacha.

"Really?" Henry couldn't hide that he was intrigued by the offer. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten chicken that hadn't been processed and squished into nugget or goujon form and then frozen for an indefinite amount of time. Donnacha's mum often sent him back with home-cooked food after a visit home, but it wasn't every day that Donnacha went around pawning it off.

"Yeah, really. It goes bad after tomorrow, and I don't think I can eat it."

"Oh." Henry paused and tried to remember what time Donnacha had gotten home that evening. "Sure, I might have some later. Did you... Did you already eat? Did you and the boys go somewhere after your match?"

There was no usual eye-roll, which generally followed Henry quaintly referring to Donnacha's rugby friends as "the boys", as opposed to "the lads". Instead, Donnacha just shook his head and said "no", and it was then that the glassy look in his eyes came into focus.

Henry sat forward. His face must have told Donnacha that he'd given something away, because he cringed and retreated back into the kitchen. Something in his step wrenched Henry's concern levels up another notch.

"Donnacha?"

He heard a decisive throat-clearing from the kitchen, and no reply.

"Donnacha, you okay?"

Still nothing. Either Donnacha really did have poor hearing, or he often pretended to, to avoid uncomfortable conversations.

God damn it, this boy. Henry shoved his laptop onto the couch and gripped his cane to push himself up. His walk to the kitchen was relatively quick and painless, so by the time he got there and saw Donnacha wrapping the chicken back up in tin foil, he was completely focused on him.

And as he turned to walk towards the fridge with the leftover chicken, Donnacha's stride took a brief sideways wobble. The half of his face that Henry could see scrunched up.

"Whoa," Henry said. "What's wrong with your foot, hon?"

"Nothing!" Donnacha grunted wordlessly as he opened the fridge door and slid the oven dish into a perfectly-sized gap on one of the shelves. "Just a little sprain."

Henry's eyes darted between Donnacha's legs, adequately exposed in the soft, drawstring shorts he wore around the flat after he'd showered and settled in for the night. He was wearing open-back slippers without socks, and now that he was looking, Henry could tell there was some discolouration and swelling going on around his right ankle.

"Donnacha, that looks awful!"

Donnacha made some attempt to look confused, but his gaze almost immediately dropped to his own foot. He slapped on a smile. "Oh. That?"

"When did you do that?"

"It's not that bad," Donnacha laughed.

"When?"

"I don't know. Wednesday? It was raining, and I slipped on the field."

Henry's stomach dropped. "And you played on that today?"

"Hen," Donnacha said plainly. He made it back to the table without wincing, though he did plant a hand on the wood to steady himself, shifting all of his weight to his left side. "It's better to just keep playing than sit it out. O'Rourke had to have his appendix out last year and the lads are still getting on to him for missing the quarter-final. It's better this way."

Henry blinked, his brain hurting more from trying to understand this than if he'd been looking at a page full of Ancient Greek.

"Trust me, it's grand."

"It might seem grand," Henry murmured, unclenching his teeth long enough to speak, "but that's... that's how you can fuck your body up for life, Donnacha."

As was to be expected, Donnacha gulped and looked at the floor. His eyes inevitably glimpsed over Henry's cane before he looked away again, searching for anything else to focus on.

The awkwardness sat there, gnawing at Henry's gut, for a few seconds. He was at a loss for what to say, besides just being plain.

"I mean, obviously I... had less of a choice in the matter," Henry murmured.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I know that."

Henry nodded.

Donnacha sighed and leaned harder on the table. He dropped his head. "It sounds stupid, but I think... I think I thought if I kept playing, then it just wouldn't be real?"

Henry nodded again, slower this time. "Yeah. That does sound stupid."

Donnacha exhaled through a laugh. Reckoning he should let the boy know that he was worried, and not as angry as he was coming across, Henry reached over and patted the back of his head.

"Call your physio in the morning," Henry said. He thought about adding or else, but thought the mock seriousness might undermine how serious this actually was.

"I will." Donnacha was nodding as he looked up at Henry's face. He sounded surprised to hear himself say it, and even went ahead and said it again. "I will."

#Lucyverse Donnacha #Lucyverse Henry #whump fic #hurt and comfort #hurt comfort #sickfic #injury mention #Lucyverse

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