#cw: PTSD

[steddieas-shegoes]

From @plasticcrotches. Thank you!

➿➰➿➰➿➰➿➰➿➰➿➰

It shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have affected him like this.

But the lights going out unexpectedly after flickering for nearly a full minute sent him into a dark spiral.

He could vaguely hear the kids talking, probably coming up with a plan to get out.

Robin’s safe, at least. She’s with her parents out of state. She’ll never have to go through this again if Steve can help it.

He should listen to the plan, figure out how he can use his body to protect the kids, get them all out of here.

“Steve?”

Steve turned to see Eddie frowning at him, coming closer.

“We’ve gotta get you out of here,” Steve stood, looking around for a weapon, any weapon.

It was too dark.

“Stevie, it’s okay.” Eddie’s hand gripped his arm, warm when everything else felt so cold. “Just sit down. Lucas and Dustin already went to check.”

“Alone?!” Steve tried to pull away, but Eddie’s grip tightened.

“They’re alright. We’re safe.”

“No we aren’t! What if something’s out there?” Steve finally pulled his arm loose, looking back at Eddie. His eyes were adjusting in the dark and he could see the concern on his face.

“Steve, where do you think you are?” Eddie asked, stepping in closer, hand gently cupping his cheek.

Steve looked around. It was difficult to see much, but he could see the shapes of the kids sprawled across a couch. His couch. In his living room.

His body relaxed slightly as he recognized more of his house around him. Not the Upside Down version, the real one.

“Sorry,” he said as Eddie leaned in closer, his forehead almost touching Steve’s.

“Why are you sorry?”

Eddie’s breath was warm against his face, sending a shiver down Steve’s back.

“Feel stupid. Thought we were back there for a minute,” Steve whispered. He didn’t want the kids overhearing. They had enough to worry about.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“No,” Steve could only think of one other time and Robin had been there to bring him back. “I’m okay. I should go check on Lucas and Dustin. They’ll probably break something.”

“Wait,” Eddie’s other hand gripped Steve’s hip. “We’re okay, Stevie. I’m safe because you got me safe. You protected me then and I know you would if you had to again. You know that, right?”

Steve felt his heart stop momentarily in his chest. Eddie usually kept a distance between them, maybe scared to get close to Steve after everything. Steve had sat by his side in the hospital every day until he woke up and Wayne could be brought in to see him.

But since then, they’d become friends. Just…they didn’t get physically close. Steve didn’t know why.

He wanted to touch Eddie, wanted to lean his head on his shoulder during movies or rub his back when he decided to stand in the kitchen and watch the kids take over Hellfire.

He wanted to play with his hair and kiss him.

He wanted.

But he couldn’t.

“I wish I could’ve protected you better,” Steve admitted, voice breaking. “I should’ve been with you.”

“You can’t be in two places at once. I did a stupid, unpredictable thing. It’s not your fault.”

“But I could’ve stopped you,” Steve argued.

He could see the kids leaving the room out of the corner of his eye, probably going to check on what Dustin and Lucas were doing.

“I wouldn’t have let you,” Eddie argued back. “I can be just as stubborn as you.”

Eddie was still touching his hip and his face.

His eyes were wide as he searched Steve’s.

“It’s over, right?” Steve asked.

“It’s over,” Eddie reassured.

“We’re safe.”

“We are safe.”

Steve should do it, he should kiss him. They’re alone and Eddie’s giving signals that he’s never given before. Or maybe he has and Steve just didn’t realize it.

Actually, he definitely has.

Steve leaned in the few inches he needed to brush his lips against Eddie’s.

He expected Eddie to pull away quickly, to stop touching him.

Instead, he let his hand drift to the back of Steve’s head and pull him in closer, nipping at his bottom lip playfully before kissing him harder.

Steve let out an embarrassing noise as he reached up to grip Eddie’s hips, stabilizing himself as Eddie groaned into his mouth.

“It’s not dark enough for us to not see you, ya know,” Mike snarked from the doorway.

Steve pulled away, ready to come up with an excuse, but Eddie wrapped his arm around him and pulled him into his side.

“Shut up, Mike. You can handle two people kissing.”

“Not when it’s you two.”

“Oh, are you homophobic?” Eddie smirked, already knowing that wasn’t the problem.

“No! You know I’m not!” Mike was flustered now, clearly looking for a reason to leave. “Just- just go somewhere else!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “This is my house, dude.”

The lights came back on and Steve fully relaxed against Eddie.

Eddie must’ve noticed, kissing the top of his head before all the kids rushed back into the room.

No one else seemed to notice the position they were in, but that was fine.

Steve didn’t wanna hide, and it seemed like Eddie didn’t either. If the kids did notice, they’d be fine.

As long as Eddie was there, he’d be fine.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

been experiencing unusual amounts of religious guilt, posting to take my mind off of it. failing all my classes btw and the only thing keeping me going is that, if an afterlife is real, i’d be sent straight to suffering atp. anyways.

cw: sacrilege/blasphemy, implied former religious reader, reader implied to have PTSD, sunday takes advantage of your vulnerability, suggestive, and clothed intimacy.

pearls and other less valuable stones cutting into your hands, the rosary felt worthless clutched by someone who didn’t believe in front of a long abandoned alter. you imagined that perhaps in the past the hall would be full of joyous families accompanied by piano so happy it’d make you faint. yet now the only movement came from dust floating through the air and your occasional shifts and swallows.

you’d abandoned the concept of worship for an aeon that so clearly discarded you long ago. what did praise mean if it fell on the deaf ears of a being that couldn’t spare you a moment of reprieve? comfort could be found in old habits though, and knelt as you were the nostalgia simmered underneath your skin paired with lingering regret and sour memories. the rosary was leaving dents in your skin from how hard you held on and your eyes were dry from the time spent staring at the cracked symbols falling off the walls. you hoped in your next life, if there was one, you’d be allowed to live without the past clawing at your frontal lobe and maybe be so blessed as to have squeaky clean formative years.

you heard the decaying front door scrape open and closed. soon enough someone you had honestly hoped wouldn’t find you here sat at your side.

Sunday grasped your hands and gently unwound the rosary, briefly appraising it and if you had to guess, finding it of poor quality. you could feel his eyes stuck to your face. his former life was one built on similar religious practices, you knew that well, so his lack of words was presumably due to discomfort. after placing the rosary aside his hands came to hold your own and you wondered what it would be like to worship an angel as real as him.

“an unusual location for you,” his voice came out soft and measured, “i had always assumed you not to be the religious type.” his fingers drummed against the backs of your hands. “should i temporarily revive my position as Bronze Melodia?” if you weren’t so deep in your own pity maybe you’d have laughed but a hum was all you could manage. Sunday was silent as he removed one of his hands to stroke your cheek, following it with a chaste kiss. small intimacies weren’t unusual between the two of you but only occurring when he could tell you weren’t doing well as if the flesh could cure you. placid every time you didn’t completely mind but knew it served you no purpose. his lips travelled to you neck and he gently helped you shift to face away from the alter and towards him instead. “let’s remain covered, i can’t defile you like that here,” a white lie as he certainly could and would but you’d never fight back on small things like that. if it made him feel better, so be it.

his hands slipped lower as he manoeuvred himself to be behind you with knuckles running over every sensitive corner and your mouth was dry as you swallowed. chin resting upon your shoulder, he relaxed into you and sighed while his fingers worked you into relaxation. your heart tightened further betwixt guilt and shame but you sat stone still nonetheless. Sunday knew of your inner turmoil and reviled in it, tainting you in his own signature way. his fingertips rubbed and pressed in places that had you twitching as breathing steadily got harder. not once did he even attempt to move beyond the slightest bit of fabric. your head was somewhere else entirely as he soothed you up and over your high, smiling as you quivered and choked back soft sounds. he unraveled himself from behind.

you didn’t move until you were certain he was beyond the building. how much soap would be enough to feel clean?

[stagark]

Warmth Amidst Dust

Gender-neutral Reader & Jiyan Comfort

Minors DNI - this blog writes dark and sexual content.

Content warnings: Panic/anxiety/ptsd attacks, left vague but reader experiences extreme dissociation and derealization and struggles to breathe due to anxious thoughts. Mentions of minor character death, paranoia on reader’s part. Basically, reader has a panic attack and Jiyan holds you while you breathe. Please be aware of the tags and do not read if these topics may trigger you.

Can be interpreted as romantic or platonic! You are a soldier under General Jiyan who has pushed yourself too hard recently, causing panic attacks. General Jiyan noticed and offered a shoulder to hold while you relearn how to breathe.

Word count: 1.5k - Also read on Ao3

You never once thought you would ever thank the dust of Norfall Barrens. As a rookie soldier you had grimaced through it, determined to protect the city you loved despite the discomforts and hardship of enlisting in the Midnight Rangers.

But now, three years later, it was a welcome respite from the sharp, biting winds. The particles stuck to your sweat-slick skin, a grimy but effective layer that allowed you to fight the abominations with a shield from the bone-chilling wind streams. The icy breeze got to you over time, seeming to attack your skin at every opportunity, leaving your limbs tender and your bones brittle.

Unexpectedly, what relieved the wind chill the most was another gale, one scripted by your trusted general, Jiyan. He moved like a deadly dancer guided by a loong dragon’s spirit. It was clear your sentinel itself chose Jinzhou’s general, his unwavering sense of justice an arrowhead directing the war against the Lament’s effects.

A composed man who overflowed with warmth and care at his core, he warmed every space he ever entered both with his aero resonance and his very spirit. The medic turned leader was almost universally beloved, a man who faught alongside his soldiers, a voice of strength and reason so desperately needed in and out of the battle field. His mere presence strengthened resolve against the Lament’s corruption, igniting and directing soldiers’ will to fight for their home like the strong tendrils of wind that uplift gentle embers into roaring and ferocious wildfires. His guidance inspired you and so many others, and you worked hard to earn your place in a unit directly below him.

The call of your name by one of your companions shook you out of your thoughts. In the relative safety of your camp you were able to let your mind float following your shifts on watch. You tended to do that more often these days. Only in battle was your mind sharp; otherwise you were simply a shell of a human, no different from a golden echo on the field. Warmth graced your hands in the form of a bowl of hot soup, the scent of spices wafted into your nose, a very welcome surprise. Such commodities were rare these days, perking up even your dulled senses.

“Come on, I know you’re tired from your shift but we have a feast prepared today!” a new fellow you fought alongside with today called at you with a smile. You managed to offer one back. A feast in these parts meant warm food and extra proteins, and spices it seemed, this time. A welcome blessing in this hell. While you’re sure you would be glad, truly, your soul never stirred in celebrating any longer. Years of war had stolen your life force, only your determination and spite sustaining you. But it was easy to wear a mask of normalcy, falling into habits to alleviate your mind of a little bit of stress, letting your consciousness float and watch your body acting from above you, a spectator instead of a player.

The warmth of the bowl certainly sang to your body, blood pumping heartily from the sustenance. But your mind was as barren as the lands you camped on, a floating ghost devoid of nearly everything, that only came to life with skill and sharpness gifted to you in battle by adrenaline.

That very familiar chemical rushed through your veins, releasing your body from its cold prison and igniting your muscles to tense, ready for action. A foreign sound had resonated around you, causing the adrenaline to release. The call was loud at first, a deep bellow sounded, followed by quick, breathless exhales of mirth and an echo of the very sound by vaguely familiar voices. It occurred to you then: laughter. The noise was laughter. You shifted your gaze around the camp, finding the young soldier who handed you a bowl howling heartily with some senior officers. How long had it been since you had heard laughter for it to sound so foreign to you?

You truly didn’t know.

It wasn’t unwelcome, but it was a disruption to your routine that allowed the voices in your head to rise louder, your mind waking to make sense of the new occasion.

What was the joke, why was your comrade so happy? asked your mind. Mild annoyance traipsed through your thoughts, uncharacteristic, but an understandable ally. This was not a place for disruptions. Anything could happen here.

What if there were TDs creeping up on the camp right now? What if they had heard the ring of joy and legions of them were gathering to snuff it out, racing here in ground-shaking gallops like horsemen of the apocalypse. You had seen so many of your allies, your friends, fall to those beasts. Resounding memories of their cheers of camaraderie in the early days echo throughout your mind, cruelly juxtaposed with visuals of their brutal deaths. The monsters taunted you, holding your loved ones’ image captive and jeering at you while they poisoned your world, your beloved city, your home.

The world around you seemed to distort at the thought, the sky dropping. You were caged in by some invisible force, and noisy panic bubbled in your chest. Air began to feel denser, a newly elusive substance your lungs had to chase. The very thing you began craving seemed to mock you, seeming to grip your ribs and crush them inwards while refusing to let you draw in a breath. Your chest stuttered and attempted to heave before being yanked back by your achingly empty lungs as you began hiccuping for breath. Only when your airways started to sting and your face began to numb did you realize your situation and manage to gasp for breath.

You didn’t know how long had passed after you wheezed the sound of panic. You felt nothing until the bowl you were clutching was removed from your lap. A large hand came to rest on your shoulder, replacing its warmth. A scent so familiar that it unconsciously calmed you followed its motion: a fresh forest breeze tinged with the sharp sting of metal. The air began to flow in smoothly, enriching your body. A cooperative ally once more.

“Breathe, soldier,” the strong voice rumbled.

General Jiyan. Your general, Jiyan. The air once again blessed your bloodstream, feeding every inch of your body and once again giving you the gift of life. You had begun to breathe slowly and deeply, just as you had learned in training. In for four, hold for four, out for four. The familiar timings of the count served to calm both your body and mind.

The presence of safety, of your general’s strength near you, was a very welcomed gift. You sighed from your chest once the world had returned to clarity and life size in your vision and you once again heard the murmur of celebration around you. Unfortunately, your reaction was not unfamiliar to you. The toll of seemingly endless battle drew on your very soul, leaving your body weak and weary. And yet, after dozens of times, not even a decorated soldier under the great General Jiyan could manage to snap yourself out of the hell on Earth that was your own mind, not on your own, not in a way that left you sane.

“I’m sorry, general. I let my head get the best of me. Thank you for-“

The hand on your shoulder squeezed gently but firmly, a message to stop talking. As you looked up to gaze in the golden eyes of your general, you were met with pure gentle care. His understanding smile reached his eyes.

You caved to your pure exhaustion. Wordlessly, he let you relax into him, your head coming to rest against the front of his shoulder. You sighed once more, lungs filling to capacity and deflating equally in rhythmic undulation as your spirit came back to inhabit your body, bit by bit. Your general was so warm, so caring, so safe. Eyes closing against his form, your breathing slowed even without your measured counting. One steady hand gripped your side while the other came to rest along your shoulder blade, forearm resting comfortingly against your tired back. He rubbed gentle circles firm into your spine, grounding and soothing the ache in your muscles.

“Don’t speak. Ive seen you pick up extra shifts, push yourself hard. It is the most worthy of causes, no one here faults you, least of all me. But your work is done today, soldier. Rest.”

There was no hint of a waver in his voice, no false sympathy or concern. This was General Jiyan. This was safe. You nodded into his chest, accepting the help you so desperately needed. Jiyan hummed his approval as he continued to soothe your back. You could feel him brush away the dusr, replacing its tentative shield with his own unrelenting one. Your very bones seemed to breathe again, and your thoughts wandered not to the chaos and havoc of the war, but to the warmth and comfort of your general’s presence as you were surrounded by a joyful camp, grounding you instead of letting you dissociate. This was safe, and so, you breathed.

[badaziraphaletakes]

"Without knowing or perceiving any danger" except that the Metatrash is a murderous lunatic whose organization has repeatedly put Aziraphale in great danger and who Aziraphale knows collaborates with hell, and therefore could put his husband in great danger as well.

"How would he go about listening in?" First of all, NG literally put in that moment with him hearing Michael from outside the bookshop, to make it so obvious that it's like he's practically hitting us over the head with a 2x4 to make sure we get it. But frankly, I almost wish he hadn't, because the real issue here is that Aziraphale can't afford to assume he's *not* listening in.

(Oh and also he (Metatrash) popped up right after Crowley disclosed the secret of the giant miracle. After 6000 years of forced paranoia, I guarantee Aziraphale picked up on that. You get soooo used to noticing the smallest clues as to what your ab*ser's up to. Hypervigilance, and all. Just because we don't see Aziraphale drink as often as Crowley does, doesn't mean he doesn't have the angelic equivalent of C-PTSD, and probably PTSD too. It's that tired male PTSD stereotype rearing its ugly head again.)

[himluv]

Spiral

Chapter 23(?!) of Say My Name (Say it Twice) is here! Find it below, or head over to AO3 to read from the beginning.

After a harrowing day in Isana Negat, Lucanis decides to finally tell Rook how he feels.

cw: PTSD, panic attacks

Lucanis reread the parchment for the third time. Teia had sent word, Viago’s people had found something. Something big enough that the Talons wanted to meet outside of the city. Outside of Illario’s reach.

Normally, he’d bring this straight to Rook. They needed to get to Dock Town, to the Cobbled Swan soon. And they would. But not tonight.

Tonight, he was just grateful they’d all made it out of Isana Negat alive. For a moment, he’d thought all was lost, that Rook and her big, soft, foolish heart chose to stay and die rather than leave Harding to the Titan’s rage. 

He would have run, had tried to get Rook to run. But, she’d refused, and of course he couldn’t leave her to face Harding alone. So, he’d followed her up to that stone platform, certain it was their final moments. 

And, yet again, Rook proved that he should know better than to doubt her heart. Against all odds, she’d reached Harding, soothed her rage and reminded her of who she really was under all that pain. Lucanis was still rocked with awe each time he thought of it. 

Was there anyone Rook couldn’t reach?

But, their misadventure in the mines also left him feeling uncertain. Not about Rook, he was more sure about her than ever, but about himself. She had done the impossible time and gain, but she was still mortal. And they were still hurtling toward a confrontation with two ancient, blighted gods. Even after all their wins, the odds of victory were long. Too long. And if the Cantori Diamond had taught him anything, it was that, eventually, their luck would run out. 

If something happened to them, shouldn’t she know how he felt? Could he survive losing her, knowing he’d never told her? But would it make her grief that much worse if he did, and he was the one lost? Or would the knowledge of his affection be a comfort in the aftermath?

Tell her, Spite hissed. You want. She wants.

Lucanis knew the demon was right. And, he could feel the gods’ noose tightening. When they did face Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, it would be all or nothing. There were no guarantees anyone would survive, and they were running out of time. 

Yes. He would tell her. Now. He’d delayed long enough.

Yesssssss!

Lucanis left Teia’s message on his side table, checked his hair in the mirror, and stepped out into the dining hall. Dinner had been a quiet affair. Harding had promptly gone to her quarters and passed out upon their return. Taash had brought her dinner and also not returned. He and Rook had both been reserved, tired after the physically and emotionally draining day. 

As he crossed the courtyard, Lucanis felt a flicker of doubt. Maybe tonight wasn’t the right time. It’d been a difficult enough day without adding an emotional confession to the end of it. And there was still the matter of Illario and whatever Teia and Viago had learned. There was so much to do. 

And by that logic, he could put this off forever. 

No! Spite barked. Tell Rook. Tonight!

Right. If he waited for the perfect moment, he could always find a reason not to have this conversation. He was doing this. Now. 

It wasn’t a long walk to Rook’s quarters, but Lucanis took it slow, rehearsing in his mind what he would say to her. 

Rook. I don’t want to wait any longer. We might not have long and–

No. Too grim. 

Rook. I want… no, I need you–

No. Too clichéd. Even if it was true, he couldn’t steal his confession from the pages of one of his romance novels.   

Just. Tell her. The truth! Spite growled, the demon’s tone distinctly irritated. 

Right. The truth. He could do that. And Rook deserved to hear only the truth from him. He looked up when his path met with her door. He knew she was in there, because Spite had led him here and not to the music room. The truth. Just, tell her the truth. He took a deep, steadying breath, and then knocked on her door. 

It took a moment for her to answer, and when she did she peered around the door with a puzzled look on her face. 

“Lucanis?”

He gave her a tight smile. Mierda, he was nervous. “Rook, I–”

“Come in,” she said, swinging the door open. 

Right. Yes. Good. This wasn’t a conversation to be had in a hallway. He stepped through into the room and froze at the sight of the floor-to-ceiling aquarium. Behind him, he heard the door close. Heard Rook say something. Both sounds were muffled, as if heard from underwater. 

Nooooo, Spite hissed. No! Get out!

He was out. Had been out for months, but the shimmering blue light filtered through the water still turned his blood to ice.

Lucanis closed his eyes and took another deep breath. This was Rook’s room, not the Ossuary. Zara was dead. She couldn’t hurt him anymore. And he would never see that prison again. 

“Lucanis?”

That voice. Rook’s voice. She was the reason he was free, the one who had come to save him. And yet, when she put a tentative hand on his shoulder, he flinched. He spun to face her, hopefully camouflaging his knee-jerk response to her touch. 

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes darted across his face, searching for some clue.

“Nothing,” he lied. Which was stupid – it was painfully obvious something was very, very wrong.

Rook frowned at that and gestured to the green velvet chaise in the center of the room. “Maybe you should sit down.”

He nodded. His knees felt weak, his chest suddenly so heavy. Lucanis let Rook lead him to the chaise, his eyes on her hand where it hooked onto his elbow. He hadn’t noticed this touch – he was afire and frozen all at once. Was he breathing?

“Rook,” he said before she could drag him any closer to the glass. His voice sounded strange. Far away and thin. He licked his lips, eyes darting at the aquarium glass, then back to her face. Breathe. Just breathe and say what you came to say. “Rook, I–”

Neve’s voice rang through his head, ‘even mentioning the Ossuary sends you spiraling.’

Spiraling? No! Spite shouted, face pressed to the glass. DROWNING!

“Lucanis?” Again, her voice pulled him back. And when he saw the concern, the fear in her eyes, he knew the real truth. 

He closed his eyes. “Rook, I can’t.” He turned his back on the glass wall, blinking back panicked tears. Mierda, what was happening to him?

Rook stood beside him, her hand still at his elbow. Then she cursed. “Shit! It’s the aquarium isn’t it?”

She didn’t wait for him to reply. She dragged him from her quarters and down to the music room. He followed her, numb and panting against the frozen blocks of his ribcage. It wasn’t until she pressed him down into his usual chair that he felt like his head was back above water. 

Slowly, his chest loosened and he was able to take slow, deep breaths. Eventually, his pulse settled and he became more aware of his surroundings. Rook crouched before him, a hand on his knee. Her other hand was in his, gripped tight. 

“Hey,” she said as he blinked at her. 

He leaned back, resting his head against the wall and covering his face in both hands. Then he let out a string of profanities that would make Teia proud. 

After a beat of silence, Rook said, “I think I understood most of that.”

Lucanis groaned from behind his hands. Leave it to her to tease him at a moment like this.

“Are you okay?” She asked. 

He took a deep breath and felt the last shards of icy panic break away. “I’m all right,” he said. Still, he kept his face covered. 

“Will you look at me?”

No. He didn’t want to see her concern. Or her tenderness. He didn’t want to face the proof that she’d seen him at his worst. He would rather vanish into dust than look at her in that moment. 

“Give me a moment,” he said.

“Okay.”

He expected her to move, to sit at the piano, maybe even to play, but Rook did not leave his side. Her hand stayed on his knee, rubbing gentle, soothing circles above his kneecap. For a moment he let her touch anchor him, his mind swirling like crema in a freshly brewed cup of coffee. 

Mierda, he needed a drink. 

What was the matter with him? How could an aquarium unravel him so completely? How could Rook ever trust him after this? How could he fulfill his contract, how could he keep her safe if all it took to unmake him was a glass wall of water? This was worse than he’d realized. He was worse.

When he didn’t speak or move for what felt like ages, Rook tapped his knee. “Lucanis?”

He grunted.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Lucanis sighed and let his hands fall into his lap. But he kept his face tilted up toward the ceiling. He couldn’t look at her. 

“It’s okay,” she said. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed.” Rook shook her head. “I should have realized the aquarium might bring up… bad memories. I should have warned you.”

“You can’t take the blame for everything, Rook.” His voice sounded so tired, even to him. 

“No,” she said. “But, I can try.”

He shook his head. “And why would you warn me? It’s not like you expected me to knock on your door.”

A beat of silence hung between them. “Not tonight, no,” she said. “But, I thought, maybe, eventually–”

Lucanis looked down at her in surprise. Did she mean…? She thought about him coming to her room? In the middle of the night?

Judging from her blush, yes. Yes, she did.

Rook smiled up at him. “There you are.”

He didn’t look away from her, even though he desperately wanted to. He felt… fragile. Like a single misplaced touch would shatter him and he’d fall to pieces all over again. But, if there was anyone he trusted not to break him, it was Rook. Lucanis put his hand on hers where it still rested on his knee, squeezed her fingers in his. 

He could tell her how he felt, now, and she would accept him just as he was – fragile and half-shattered. He knew that, deep in his chest. He felt her acceptance in the weight of her hand on his knee, in the weight of her gaze. He should tell her now. He wanted to. 

But hadn’t this… episode proved him right? Like Neve had said, with everything he was dealing with, how was it right for him to squeeze Rook in? He’d thought he was ready, but he couldn’t even step inside her room. There was still so much he needed to do, needed to deal with before he could pull her into his life and not hate himself for it. 

Lucanis squeezed her hand one more time, and then released her. Rook took the cue and removed her hand from his knee. His leg tingled at the loss of her touch. 

Rook stood and put her hands on her hips. “So, what did you come to talk to me about?”

Lucanis stared at her for two panicky heartbeats, then remembered Teia’s message. “Viago and Teia sent word. They want to talk. About Illario.”

Spite growled from behind Rook at mention of his cousin.

“Whatever it is, they wish to speak away from Treviso. Away from anyone who might be listening. They won’t put more to paper.”

“Oh,” she said. She sounded disappointed. 

“I need to meet with them, as soon as possible.”

“All right,” she said, nodding. “We’ll head out first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Rook,” he said. He hoped the weight of his voice told her he meant it for more than just their impending trip to Minrathous. 

“Of course, Lucanis,” she said, and the warmth in her eyes told him she understood completely. Just as she always did. 

Lucanis couldn’t bring himself to confess his feelings to Rook now. Not after this mess. But he was also desperate not to be alone just yet. 

“Rook?” He called as she turned toward the door. 

She stopped and looked at him. 

“Can I ask another favor?”

She smiled. “Always.”

He smiled at that, even as he felt the heat bloom in his cheeks. “Will you play for me?”

She laughed. “Now?”

He shrugged. “If it’s a bother–”

Rook waved his words away and sat at the piano. “I did say ‘any time’.”

“You did,” he murmured. He watched, rapt, as she settled into the instrument. She played the same notes she’d hunted out that first night he’d found her in this room, but she’d obviously been practicing. Her fingers were sure as they danced across the keys, drawing the song out, coaxing it into a reverberating being with such tenderness it made him ache. 

Lucanis had attended more than his fair share of operas, had listened to live musicians countless times at parties in Villa Dellamorte and in the close intimacy of cafés. None of them compared to Rook playing for him –privately– at his request. 

He had basically zero experience with what made him… want. But in that moment, watching Rook’s hands, seeing the expression on her face shift to match the tone of the song, Lucanis’s whole body suffused with delicious heat. He always wanted Rook, in some low, background fashion. But this was different, pointed and–

Hungry, Spite hissed. 

Yes. It felt a lot like hunger. Or, a craving. He’d expected his feelings for her to diminish in the wake of his embarrassment, but instead they only seemed stronger. That she could see him like that, and still care? It made something in his chest open up, vibrating like the notes through the room. Lucanis felt uncoiled and strung tight all at once, so much so that he had to close his eyes and focus on his breathing. 

He couldn’t tell Rook how he felt now, because if he did he didn’t think he could keep from devouring her whole. That wasn’t what he wanted when they finally spoke about this… thing developing between them. He didn’t want reckless passion and possible regrets in the aftermath. He wanted them both to be sure, to have no illusions or misunderstandings. And right now he was too twisted up with his panic and Illario.

So, he took his pleasure in the music she played for him, imagined her sitting at the instrument in Villa Dellamorte’s ballroom, maybe in an elegant, backless dress that shimmered as golden as the sunset in Arlathan Forest. It was a pleasing thought, one Lucanis was more than happy to sit with for as long as Rook wanted to play.  

They would go to Minrathous tomorrow and deal with whatever news the Talons had about his cousin. And maybe, after, he could finally tell her how he truly felt. 

[boneheadboner]

Depths in Despair - Megalosomnia

The Wrong Solution

This isn't quite chapter 2, it's a little further in to the story. Not as far in as the heat fic is going to be, as this is pretty early into their relationship. I'll probably appropriately chapter it once I get there. But for now?

Welcome to my discombobulated order of how I write shit.

But I wrote this out entirely today, no beta no proofreading we die like fucking men over here. It's some juicy introspective into how Sonia thinks, as well as a sleep deprived Baggs.

CW: Some potentially warranted flirting, some questionably consensual kissing, some recalled sexual trauma, some bad ways of coping with said trauma.

--------

You entered the elevator, and pressed the button for the floor you were headed to. 

You carried a tray of coffee, with some nice biscuits glazed with cream cheese for your master, Baggs.

You knew he had a tendency to skip meals frequently, always so engrossed in his work that he forgets to tend to his body’s needs. So, perhaps a nice sweet treat ought to help him perk up!

Granted, you couldn’t be too hard on him for that. A good story, a good game, tends to have the same effect on you. It would be nice if you yourself could put that drive towards something as amazing and useful as Master does. 

Your excitement and cheer grew by the minute. Truly, you felt blessed to get to deliver things to Baggs. Seeing him made your SOUL feel like it’d flutter out of your chest, just to snuggle up on his lap like a kitty!

It was certainly a highlight of your day. Not that helping out Cecilia and Frederick wasn’t enjoyable. It’s just… Getting to help Baggs felt so different. 

But, you wouldn’t want to push those feelings too much. What you had was merely… A little silly crush. Baggs had far more important things than you to focus on. And you would happily support him every step of the way, reward or none. 

As the elevator doors opened, you used your other hand to retrieve the keycard in your coat. Sliding it swiftly, before you entered into the main foyer of his office. 

You opened the door to his office, only to see him surprisingly absent. 

Not seeing him in here, you furrowed your brow. You chose to set down the tray on a table, and walked over to the right hand side of the foyer. Opening the door to his personal laboratory.

It was often that Baggs would work on things that he’d rather perform solo in here. Uninterrupted by other great minds or assistants. 

You were breaking an unspoken rule, coming into here. But when you saw Baggs slumped over one of the tables, your heart sank.

“M-MASTER!!” you cried out, wasting no time in rushing to his side. He was still, motionless, your heart felt like it would split in two.

Before his sudden movement made you feel like you’d have a heart-attack instead. 

Baggs’ arms swung back, as he leaned fully back in the office chair.

“I DIIIIIIIIIII~iiiiiiiiiid it~!” He slurred out. Making your shock return to concern once more.

He… Sounded drunk? You hadn’t known that Master liked alcoholic drinks… Perhaps you’d have to mix him one sometime, for… Well, when he wasn’t working… 

Which was never. Your daydreams march on another day.

“I… I’m so glad, Master! I… Are you okay? W-What did you do?”

Baggs’ started giggling, like some unhinged combination of a gremlin, and a mad scientist. He reached up, and grabbed onto the lapels of your coat. Partially pulling you down, and partially pulling him up, as he excitedly explained;  

“I’ve… I’ve SUCCESSFULLY currrred my problem! I’ve made a tincture that shhhould ensure I nnnnnnnEVER have to sleep again~!” Baggs proudly proclaimed with drunken pride. 

That… That sounded incredible! You quickly questioned whether or not you could have some.. But then the sudden woeful realization on Baggs’ face had you concerned.

“... Ohhhh my starssss… I’m a buffoon, I’m an absolute buffoon…” he lamented, before plopping his face down in your chest in defeat. Muffled miserable whines came out from where his face had become well acquainted with your chest.

You blinked, staring at him. Or the top of his head, rather. 

“Um… Master, I.. I don’t follow.” You uttered.

Baggs lifted his head, to look back into your eyes. You could see just how… Fuzzy his eyelights looked. 

“That’s the exact opposite of what I was trying to makeeee…” he whined. 

“ I got soooooo caught up in analyzing a formula, in an a-atee–attemm– attempt to create an antidote… That I wwwworked myself into a big circle, forgetting the key component… Of what the symptom to be cured is.” Baggs slurred out. 

Your confusion only grew.

“S… So you accidentally made a stimulant rather than a sedative, which is what you were originally trying for…” You clarified.

Baggs just plopped his face right back down into your cleavage. “Yesssss.. I diiiid…” he pathetically whined, muffled once more by your breasts. 

You sighed softly, smiling a bit in amusement. Your hands gingerly patted the back of his head, as your other arm went to hug around him. Poor guy…

“Mmmm a fool, a buufffooon, a frauuud–” 

Oh no, you were gonna cut that off right quick.

“Master, everyone makes mistakes… It’s part of being alive. This is just a small little misstep, towards g-greater things…”

Baggs’ head lifted only slightly, just to look at you. And stars, you knew he always looked tired, but this was next level. 

“Yyyymeeean it…?”

You snorted, you couldn’t deny that he was being absolutely adorable right now.

“Of course~. I mean, h-heck. One time I confidently read off the definition for ‘pussy’ rather than ‘pussycat’ in a call with friends.” You recounted, still feeling embarrassment over that. 

Baggs gave a pause, before erupting into muffled laughter. Leaning his head back for a moment to get air… Just to start laughing again.

“... And see, it’s embarrassing. But if I can make you laugh with it, then something good came of it~.” You chimed, before watching Baggs’ head swan dive back down, to muffle his laughter in your chest again. 

You gently sighed, and softly patted his head. After a bit, his laughter died down. You felt his arms curl around you, a blush swiftly dusting your cheeks.

“Mmmmhhmhmmmm~... I liiike this… this is my happy place nowwww~...” You heard him muffledly comment. 

You rolled your eyes, with a smirk. Well… At least the damn orbs of fat on your chest were serving some use. Put ‘happy place’ next to ‘cat shelf’ and ‘plate holder’ in things having a large chest were actually useful for.

 

“Well, I’m glad I can provide some comfort for you in this time of need… But if I may, um… I don’t think that alcohol is the greatest solution for working on research, Master…” You commented, his drunken state made it no wonder as to why he got turned around in his work. 

Baggs slowly raised his head, to look up in confusion at you.

“A… Alllcohol? Who said anything about alcohol…??” Baggs mumbled, one eyesocket a little more droopy than the other. 

You stared at him.

“... M-Master? I don’t know how to say this, but you are extremely intoxicated right now. Your speech a-and mannerisms are completely affected.” 

Baggs blinked, before he frowned. “I haven’t had–”

Stars, you’d heard that one a hundred times before. “Don’t say ‘I’m not drunk’, I’ve heard that one wayyyy too many times to–”

Baggs cut you off. “Pleashe. If I was drunk, you could smell the alcohol ohhh.. Ohnnmy breath…” he leaned closer, to prove his point. 

You… Didn’t particularly smell anything, anything other than the result of his flawless dental routine. Frankly speaking, it was nice. 

“... Well, I may no–”

 Opening your mouth may have been a mistake, as he wasted no time in pulling you into a kiss. A gasp, muffled by his mouth, escaped you. 

You blushed at the feeling of his tongue slipping into your mouth, his sweet saliva mixing and mingling with your own. Your legs quivered beneath you at the sensation, and how you desperately wanted to return passion in kind.

But a pang of guilt nagged in the back of your mind.

Even if he’s not drunk, he’s certainly not sober right now. 

You caved to your desires for a short bit, softly sucking on his tongue. 

And just as you sought to return the passion, Baggs pulled away. Licking his teeth with a cocky smirk. 

“And if I had alcohol, you’d absoolutely taste it.” He confidently slurred.

You shuddered, and sank to your knees. Mind racing. You could absolutely go for more of that, you longed for more than that…

He’ll come to regret it. Once he’s back to himself, he’ll remember this, and shudder at the memory…

He wouldn’t feel the same towards you. 

He would never feel the same towards you. 

The doubts that filled your mind, sobered you enough. 

“U-Um… Either way, w-what I came in here to get y-you for–” 

Baggs looked a tad confused, even in his inebriated state. 

“I– yeeesss.. Thisss is my pppersshon–personnnal– Persoonnnall lab. What aaare you doing in here forr?” Baggs commented, leaning close to you once more. 

You squeaked, blushing more as you averted eye contact. Not out of fear of his power, but merely out of not wanting to meet the gaze of the scientist of whom owned the restricted lab you mindlessly strolled into. 

Baggs simply cooed, and lightly took his index finger to flick your lower lip. Punctuating each word with a gentle flick. “You’re. Not. Supposed. To. Be. In. Here~.” he teased.

You lowered your head. Guilty as charged.

“N’awwwhh~... Don’t worryyy~... I can overlook this transssgresss… Transsgreshhion~...” Baggs slurred, giving a flirtatious smirk as he hooked his arms around the back of your neck. 

You wanted to, you wanted nothing more than to give in, to be there for him, to hold him close, to feel him kiss you again, to love him–

Static in your mind, 

Inebriation, 

confusion, 

muffled sounds. 

“Stop being a pussy, man. Go for it.”

“It’s not like she’ll remember it anyway.”

You weren’t going to do that to him. 

You couldn’t live with yourself if you became another awful person like those that hurt you.

You couldn’t do that to him if you cared about him.

You stood up.

Accidentally lifting Baggs up with you, as he dangled from you. He stared at you with a look of shock and confusion. 

You realized he must have been startled by your refusal of his advances. 

It’s for his own good.

“Um… I just, don’t want the coffee and biscuits I made for you to get cold.” You stammered out, giving a gentle smile. You moved your arms down to support his backside, carrying the light skeleton with ease. 

Baggs looked at you, searching your eyes for something… Upon not finding it, he flopped his head on your shoulder. Grumbling.

You gave a gentle sigh, carrying him out of his lab. Gingerly shutting the door behind you, and walking to his office. 

You listened to little huffs of frustration from him, a slurred mumble of ‘thank fffffuck no one can see this’, as you walked to his chair and carefully set him down at it. 

Baggs looked up at you, a slight melancholy in his expression. You held up an index finger, and walked back towards the foyer. 

“I– Are you not… Inn… Interested in me…?” You heard him slur out. 

You blinked, looking back towards him. Your heart ached, as he looked at you with such a sullen expression. 

“... Master. It’s because I care about you, that I can’t… I can’t do this.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “It’s just… Too risky, given your condition… I could… I could wind up seriously hurting you.” you explained, before ducking out into the foyer. 

Monsters were sensitive to emotions, moreso than any human. And without having any moment of such… Intimacy prior? You couldn’t honestly determine whether or not Baggs would actually want to do anything with you, or if it was just because you happened to be there during such a moment of inebriation…

Worse yet, you didn’t know that if you remembered… Those times, you’d be able to shield him from your own painful memories. 

Even remembering them yourself made your arms incredibly itchy.

You scooped up the tray, and walked back to the office. 

Baggs looked up at you immediately, before clearing his throat. You walked over and set down the tray in front of him. His fuzzy eyelights widened, as though you just served him up lobster and filet mignon. 

“Coffeee, and biscuitssss? Sonia, you’re a blllllesssssing on the underground…” Baggs practically moaned out, before hastily grabbing up one of the biscuits. Literally moaning in delight after taking a bite of the flaky biscuit. 

You couldn’t help but giggle at the sound. Under any other circumstances? You’d be overwhelmed by how delicious his moans sounded.

But, in his current state… Well, it was just too cute. 

You leaned over a bit, smiling. “Hungry~?” You chimed.

“Esstremely” Baggs responded, still chewing on the bite of biscuit he took. He washed it down with a sip of coffee. Which earned yet another contented moan from the man. 

Knowing Baggs, he probably brushed off the sounds of his stomach grumbling as machinery sounds. 

“Stars… I swear, your coffee issss.. Issss better than sex..” 

You sputtered, your face heated up near immediately at the statement.

“Ffcourse, I haven’t hhhad sex fffor two monnths… Sooo maybe I’m biassed”

“I– M-My goodness… You’re very blunt when drunk, aren’t you…?” You gawked.

“FffffffffOR THE record… I’m nnnot DRUNK… I’m esssstremely tttIRED… The’resss a dIFFEREncee..” Baggs retorted, dramatically poking at your nose. 

You blinked, letting that sink in. 

And taking a full moment to be polite and serve that sink a drink. 

“So you’re… Sleep deprived right now?” You asked, looking at his current state in an entirely different light. 

Baggs burst out laughing, like you had just told the funniest joke. And from what you knew of how you were when sleep deprived? You get it. You absolutely get it now.

“AHahahh, haaaahh~... That’ssss putting it lightly~.” Baggs slurred out. 

Stars. This is worse than you thought. This was ‘3am the next day’ level sleep deprivation. 

“Well, master… Perhaps, when you’re done eating…? A little rest in the observation infirmary might do you some good… I don’t know how you’ll be able to sleep after coffee–”

You paused, as Baggs made a ‘pffff’ sound in response. “But… E-Even just resting your eyes will help, I’m sure…”

He pouted, like a dejected puppy. You wanted to scoop him up, and hold him close. And kiss him. 

But your heart was still pounding in your chest like you’d run a marathon… And your arms itched too much.

So a little peck on the head would do. Leaning close and kissing the crown of his head. A gesture that caused his cheeks to light up all the same, as a look of surprise overcame his features. 

“So, don’t worry. Okay? Get some rest. I’ll let Cecilia and Alphys know to give you some time to recover.” You gently affirmed to him, softly petting his head. 

Baggs grumbled. Idly chewing on his biscuit. 

You rose up, turning to walk towards the door. A glance back at him, and it became so hard to not just drop your resolve to protect him, and just embrace him. 

The dejected look he gave you, as though he wanted you back by his side at the very least. 

“... I’m… Sorry, I just… I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you…” You softly apologized.

No, you couldn’t leave him with that look of longing and confusion on his face. You put on a gentle smile. “I’ll… Make it up to you, I promise. You’ve got my word!” you chimed. 

A look of concern flashed on Baggs’ face, before you turned away and left. 

Your arms and legs itched so much.

You didn’t want to risk hurting him the way you were hurt.

You didn’t want to break him in the way you were broken.

—----------------

After a filling meal of a few biscuits, Baggs sat down on the bed in the observation infirmary.

Sonia was giving him this chance to meditate, a moment of peace, and he wouldn’t waste it. It wasn’t often he got a dedicated break, and she was helpful enough to let the others know he needed one. 

He closed his eye sockets, in preparation for that blissful state of trance…

A sharp inhale through his nose, as he anticipated that Alphys and Cecilia would contact him, to confirm what Sonia would tell them. He couldn’t go too deep just yet. 

Baggs let out a heavy sigh, before he flopped his back onto the bed. 

As he inhaled, a wonderful familiar scent drifted to him. 

Right… The last person he had on this bed was Sonia, after that experiment gone wrong…

He grabbed the pillow and hugged it to his chest, deeply inhaling. He could still detect the light scent of her hair. And fondly remembered how close, how wonderfully close he was to her in his lab. To the point he tasted her…

Baggs’ brow furrowed. That look she had on her face, before she stood up…

It was so curious, how that look of fear, and mortified realization brought him such power and pride to see in others…

And yet painted on her face, it only made his SOUL tremble in pain. 

Was she… Afraid of him in that moment…? Was she truly that distraught from his advances? He thought he read her right, that she was in fact, interested in him… Or… Was it something else? 

Baggs clutched the pillow closer, sighing once more. And painfully left alone with his own thoughts, his own pondering, not even given the comfort of trance, with knowing he would be contacted soon for confirmation of his break.

If by chance, it was something else… What would cause her to have such a mortified expression…?

[lara-prism-light]

"The Accident"

[Content warning: panic attack, trauma and ptsd]

On Wattpad And Archive of Our Own 

For context, in this au, Clay stays(Floyd had left for his solo career and returned three years later on the day of the incident) and the day their grandmother is eaten he sees her being taken away, unable to do anything he blames himself for not being there at the time of the incident, believing he could have done something if he hadn't was so neglectful of his younger brother. Now as an adult he sees himself responsible for Branch's condition, and has constant nightmares about what happened.

[ominous-faechild]

MODERN EXISTENCE

CHAPTER 1: MORE OF THE SAME

CHARACTERS: ✦ Beck Molleur ✦ Dahlia Molleur

story intro moodboard table of contents < last chapter next chapter >

(if it's possible for you to read and listen to lyrical music at the same time, please listen to the music provided ❤️)

NOTE: this story is centered on two characters in a codependent, toxic marriage. Exact content warnings about the relationship will not be given for plot reasons, so if you have ANY possible worries about that subject matter, I beg of you to be cautious before reading this story. Thank you.

Most topics are implied—haunting the narrative rather than being displayed openly—and this story depicts how one can be trapped in that sort of relationship. It has portrayals of depression, self-hatred, and implied abuse... although I would still like and encourage you to read it.

Countless images flashed through Beck's mind.

Flooded streets, loose wreckage of destroyed buildings, and rows and rows of suffering people.

It was always like this. Beck was constantly tormented by these kinds of visions. Visions of pain, destruction, and death. Anything and everything going wrong around the world was stuck in his mind, constantly playing again and again and again.

Whether he closed his eyes or had them open, tried going about his day normally or not, he was tormented by visions of misery.

Still, Beck now had his eyes closed, cheek pressed up against the back of a couch, and noise-cancelling headphones over his ears playing soft, calming music.

With his senses stifled, it was easier to focus on the visions. It was easier to see what he shouldn’t be able to see, hear what he shouldn’t be able to hear, and move what he shouldn’t be able to reach.

The soft music coming from his headphones calmed Beck. He’d seen so much suffering in his life that he’d long-since grown almost numb to it, but… that didn’t mean he was okay with it.

He still wanted to help.

So, when he could, when things were “a little too bad”, Beck made an effort to use his powers for good. He’d make small changes where he could—fill in a pothole that’d been untouched for years, trip up someone on the attack, make a stray noise to draw someone’s attention near danger, or manipulate information that could otherwise destroy people’s lives—and try to help people.

… for once in his life.

“Sometimes I for-get… the world doesn’t want me…”

A whole roof had been torn off its building by the vicious winds of a hurricane. It tore through the air, flying toward another home—and suddenly steered away, crashing into the street instead.

“And I won-der where… all of my friends are…”

Hundreds of miles away, cars were bottlenecked at an aging bridge… one that had long-since been shut down for repairs. Not that it’d ever been repaired—but still. It was supposed to be closed.

People were desperate to escape the hurricane, though.

They risked the bridge, and if it hadn’t been for Beck watching over it? It would’ve cracked under the weight of their cars, plunging them all into the hungry waters below.

“But then I remember… I’d pushed them all a-way…”

So much destruction, so much panic, so much chaos—and Beck did his best to help everyone he could in small ways.

To avoid detection.

For plausible deniability.

Few people believed in magic, so what else were they going to believe? That a god walking among them—one they’d otherwise blame for their misfortune—was looking out for them? Or that the wind moved just in time? That the bridge was just a little sturdier than the architects and scientists believed? That Their God, whichever one or ones they believed in, was looking out for them?

Yes. Far better for people to assume those than the truth.

They’d all agreed on that thousands of years ago.

“So where am I? Who am I?” the song continued, melancholic.

“And what will I do… when I don’t ev-en have me?”

The couch shifted under Beck, tilting him to the side, as something landed on his shoulder.

Beck flinched, mind abruptly returning to his body.

Snapping his eyes open, Beck quickly turned to look at what had disturbed him—

A pair of bright green eyes—on the most beautiful face he’d ever seen—met his.

Despite her soft smile, Dahlia's eyebrows were furrowed slightly in concern as she stared at him expectantly.

“Who will I be?” the song continued.

Dahlia was a woman Beck knew well, though her face had changed countless times over the years. Now, she wore one of a brown woman with angular features and a mane of long, curly brown hair. She sat against the couch with one knee, her hand still on his shoulder, and the scent of her lilac perfume washing over him.

Beck swallowed, then cleared his throat awkwardly as he looked away to stare down at the cushion creased under Dahlia's knee. Every fabric of his being screamed against it, but Beck hesitantly grabbed the earpads of his headphones to slowly take them off.

“Where will I g—?” the song lamented, before getting cut off for overpowering silence.

“Beck?” Dahlia's voice interrupted, warm and gentle. “Everything okay?”

A wave of relief flooded over him.

Relaxing and smiling weakly, Beck hesitantly looked back up to meet her eyes.

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly, “just… was working on some stuff.”

Dahlia's soft smile grew faintly teasing. Then, she shifted to sit in his lap, her knees propped up against the cushions outside of his legs. Her hand moved from Beck's shoulder to his cheek as the other went to the backrest over his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah?” Dahlia asked, her tease leaking into her voice. “Like what?”

Beck felt his face flush as he pressed his cheek into her hand.

Letting out a slow, shaky breath, he turned his face away as he placed his headphones to the side and awkwardly wrapped his arm around her. It pulled her close as he stared hard at the headphones, still faintly emitting sound.

“Just… helping out around the hurricane,” Beck said, his voice subtly thick. “You know… without making it too obvious.”

He let out a small, pained laugh, then closed his eyes as he sank his cheek completely into her hand.

Beck's exhaustion leaked into his voice as he added: “not that anyone would question it, anyways. They just thank whatever god they believe in… or consider it ‘miraculous’ and move on…”

The entire couch shifted as Dahlia moved.

Beck tensed slightly, his breath catching in his throat. He quickly opened his eyes and turned his head to once again look at Dahlia.

His wife shifted to fully sit in his lap, leaning her forearms into his chest, cupping her hands around his cheeks, and meeting his eyes with a warm, loving smile.

“Awe, that’s sweet of you, Beck,” she said, voice slightly teasing still.

Then her eyes closed, and she leaned forward.

Beck took a deep breath before following her example.

Dahlia's hands dropped from his cheeks to rub against his chest as she kissed him gently, then slowly deepened it.

Beck struggled to breathe, but carefully kissed her back. Wrapping his arms around her lower back, he lifted her just enough to cross his legs under her and pull her close.

Dahlia paused the kiss—and Beck opened his eyes, though hers remained shut—to speak lightly against his lips.

“Did you know that?” she asked.

He swallowed awkwardly, looking down, not knowing how to answer.

She didn’t give him the time to figure it out. Instead, she quickly went back to kissing him, moving her hands up his chest and to his cheeks, where she rubbed his jaw with her thumbs.

Taking a slow, unsteady breath through his nose, Beck pulled her even closer and tried to just enjoy the kiss.

I love you, Ver, he wanted to say.

But he bit it back, giving her the moment to do whatever she wanted.

Instead, Dahlia pulled away after kissing him for a few more seconds. Her hands moved from his cheeks to his chest again as he met his eyes with another warm smile.

Beck was too caught up in watching every subtle shift in her expression to recognize his own relief.

“I reserved a restaurant for us to eat at tonight,” Dahlia said, a slight, sly smile on her lips. “Bistro Minuit is your favorite, right?”

Face flushing again—hotter this time—Beck hesitantly tore his eyes from hers to stare at the floor, past her hip. At the same time, he moved a hand from her lower back to place it over one of hers on his chest.

“Yeah,” Beck said awkwardly, his voice thick.

Then he gave a weak, dry chuckle, closing his eyes.

“It’s still open?” he asked, his voice weakly amused. “With how fast time goes by—”

“Uxi,” Dahlia interrupted gently. One of her hands—the one not trapped under his—moved to cup itself around his cheek again.

Beck froze, his breath catching in his throat as he quickly returned his eyes to hers.

But Dahlia still had her warm, slightly-teasing smile on her lips.

Her tease leaked into her voice as she answered: “of course it’s still open. I just told you I made reservations, didn’t I?”

Beck's heart twisted, but Dahlia's face was still soft, easygoing.

“—And, besides, I make sure of these things, you know that,” she finished warmly.

She seems fine. Nothing to worry about.

Beck forced a weak smile in return, but then sighed heavily as he closed his eyes and sank his cheek into her hand again. At the same time, he moved his hand from the one on his chest to cup it over hers on his cheek, lovingly sandwiching it between his cheek and hand.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice thick, but level. “You’re right. Sorry, I’d… I’d like that.”

Feel free to share your thoughts below, regardless of what they are.

Unless, yknow, they're "wtf are you writing; stfu". Or "men can't be abused." Keep that kinda shit out.

This is a very heavy story, and will touch on heavy topics... even if only through implication.

(Also to those of you who recognize their names... 🙂)

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divider by @cafekitsune

[by-nina]

The way that you are, the way I'll forever be

AO3 | FFN Royai Week 2025 | Day 3 - Anathema Rating: T (mild swearing, depiction of PTSD) Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 1,110

When she screams again, she recognizes her own voice at last. Her strangled cry quickly turns into wheezing breaths as she collapses—It's so cold, so cold, just like the desert nights she could never fully sleep through during the war. Her joints ache and her heart seems to be beating in her stomach as well, but she is in the snow hundreds of miles away from Ishvalan sand, and there isn't any sun in her eyes, so why has her body shut down this way? Why is she curled up on the ground, holding herself as if her insides were about to spill out? Why, after all these years? Day 3 - Anathema for Royai Week 2025.

[asktheevilgeniusesson]

The jackals sat in a corner, knees tucked close and face hidden in his knees and fur, the short skinny figure of the canine miht be hard to make out in the corner, but hes there. Shaking and silently having essentially a PTSD-induced panic attack. His mask is discarded on the floor infront of him and he seems to be unaware of his surroundings right now.

[qfzeeph]

♡Kaito (Vocaloid) x Reader/Master HCs [4]♡

Hey guys! As many of you know, April is Sexual Assualt Awareness Month. I myself am a SA survivor with (ongoing evaluation, but and I quote "very likely") PTSD, and I take a lot of comfort in the idea that my favorites would take care of me since many people in real life who assured they would have failed to do so. I've been... kind of afraid to post these since they are very personal to me and I wasn't sure what kind of response this would envoke. If this doesn't really resonate with you, I appreciate the fact you're willing to read through it anyway. If it does, I hope it brings you as much comfort as it brings me.

So For the Fourth installment of this series, I'd like to write about Kaito taking care of a SA survivor with PTSD symptoms similar to mine.

I think this goes without saying, but CW for mentions of SA and talk of PTSD-Related things.

☆When you finally open up to him about what happened to you, it breaks his heart. He can't believe someone would even think about doing that to you.

☆Kaito is extremely considerate of your boundaries. He’s not one to push or try and “make you get over it,” if it makes you uncomfortable he wants no part of it.

☆ Kaito is also a fantastic listener. If you need to spill and cry out about things that have happened, he’s going to hold you close and give you all the comfort and love he can. Moving forward is not always easy, especially when memories plague you. He’s going to do his very best to comfort you and remind you that you’ll always be safe in his arms. And it doesn’t matter how many times he has to tell you that, he always will without fuss or question. He wants to make you feel as safe as possible and understands that the traumatic memories can and will come back to haunt you, oftentimes against your will.

☆Speaking of, you having flashbacks or resurgances of traumatic memories are never a “mood killer” or off putting to him. It’s something that unfortunately happens, and that’s okay. If you need physical space during these times, he’ll happily give it. If you’d rather have him hold you close and hug you until it passes, he’ll gladly oblige to that as well. Whatever helps you is what he’s going to do.

☆ If you’re the type who wants to reclaim what has been taken from you, he’s gladly going to do whatever he can to help you, on your terms of course. He understands how hard this is for you and how important reclamation can be. If at any point things go too far for you, he’ll gladly stop right away no matter what. YOUR comfort and safety comes before his enjoyment.

☆ If you’re completely sex repulsed, he’s 100% okay with that too! Kaito loves you for you after all. Being a part of your life is more than enough to satisfy him to begin with.

☆He'll always, always, always be there for you. No matter what. You could tell him anything about what's on your mind and why it's bothering and he'll sit there and listen and talk you through it no matter how in depth or graphic it is. Kaito loves you unconditionally no matter what. You'll always be his darling despite your battle scars.

☆Kaito thinks you're incredibly strong and brave at the end of it all, you're still here despite everything and he's so proud of you for continuing to push forward. And he'll never let you forget that he's proud of you either.

Well, that's about all for this post. Thank you so much for reading through to the end. Again, reiterating these are based off of things I personally have to deal with in terms of trauma-related memory resurgances and things that would make me comfortable and I understand that may not be the same for everyone who's gone through something like this. Remember to take care of your friends who are survivors, and to take care of yourself as well if you've gone through this hell as well. Stay strong out there, I believe in you and so does Kaito!

[madrabbit014]

Post Minrathous: Carry On

Nels in the immediate aftermath.

CW: PTSD

Nels’ legs felt impossibly heavy as they dragged themself to their room. This was the first time they had ever used the lock on their door, but they didn’t want to see anyone right now. Or rather, they didn’t want anyone to see them. They heavily sat down on the edge of their bed, elbows on knees, fingers pinching the bridge of their nose. 

Minrathous had fallen. Treviso was saved.

Nels went to Treviso.

Of course Nels went to Treviso.

A merchant city. Overrun with Antaam. Poor No defenses. The jewel of Tevinter Antiva. Ventus Treviso.

They don’t even remember making the choice. They remember hearing about the dragons. They remember their tinnitus getting unbearably loud. Then they remember pulling their sword out of an invader’s neck.

Nels’ hands shook. Their breath became unsteady. The sounds of the canons. Of people screaming. The mages who’s minds would never recover. People in chains. The images of what they found in Ventus. Treviso was safe. Nels reminded themself. The Antaam was still there, but Nels would take care of that. Just like they took care of the bastards in Ventus. There were no chains in Treviso. The mages still had their minds. 

Treviso stands.

Minrathous fell.

Nels eyes stung, but no tears fell. There were no more tears to shed. Nels made no secret of their dislike for the city. The Chantry. The Magisterium. The Archon. But the citizens deserved better. They never wanted an innocent to be hurt. They never wanted another city to fall.

There was a glow on Nels’ nightstand and they reached over to pick up the elf stone.

“Sir?”

“The Archon is dead.” The Imperator’s voice sounded worn down.

“Wish I could be happier about that.”

“Me too kid.” There was a pause, “I’m sending out your team to clear out his residence of any information on the legions. We don’t serve cultist scum and we’re not giving them a damn inch.”

“Understood. They can use the Eluvians. Get there long before the Vents settle in.”

“I need you to go yourself.”

“I’m on leave sir.”

“The bastard kept the records of Operation Shatter in his residence.”

Nels let out a deep sigh and hung their head. Their tinnitus was back, much quieter than it had been earlier, but still annoying.

“Contact me once the others have cleared out the rest. I’ll go in and clean up once they’re done.”

“The Venatori-”

“Voted in the Magisterium for Shatter. There’s nothing in there they don’t already know.”

Another sigh, “Except that damn picture.” They muttered to themself.

“Alright. And Tribunus?”

“Yeah?”

“…You decide how to handle that file. I’ll respect your choice on the matter.”

“Yeah.” The tinnitus was getting louder, “Thanks.”

Nels set the stone down next to them on the bed, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. 

Time to get back to work.

[fallincloversims]

By the time they finally arrived home Josie was shivering, the icy fall air settled into her bones. They stood in the hallway feeling unsure of themselves once again. It had been so long since they’d spent any real time together, what had once come so naturally now felt alien.

“Uhh, so…” Teddy began hesitantly, “I can sleep on the couch–”

“No, you won’t.” Josie interjected, “I’m done with going to bed alone.”

“Babe… The nightmares are 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 bad. I don’t wanna keep you awake.”

“I don’t care if we’re up all night. I miss you… Anyway, how am I supposed to sleep in our bed knowing that you’re on your own in the living room having flashbacks? If it’s gonna happen I want to be there... Now, I’m gonna have a shower to warm up. Are you joining me?”

Teddy simply nodded, his mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

[sesshy380]

Prompt for torturing the idiots :

Ryou Bakura identity shenanigans : looking at himself in the mirror and not recognising his own reflection but only seeing his dead sister/his tormentor / general dysmorphia

* big shiny eyes *

I AM GOING TO POUR SO MUCH ANGST GLITTER INTO THIS DOC

* pops knuckles *

One me-flavored angst, coming right up!

*****

Ryou stood there, eyes closed as he took in a deep breath and slowly released it in preparation.

Would today be the day? Would it be what it was supposed to be?

He took another steadying breath, summoning up the courage to open his eyes.

‘I can do this. I was host to a literal demon. I defied said demon on more than one occasion. In comparison, THIS should be easy.’

Another deep breath as he tried to peek his eyes open. His eyelids didn’t even quiver as they remained firmly shut.

“DAMMIT!” he shouted in frustration while slamming balled fists onto the counter. “IT’S JUST A MIRROR!”

He slid to the floor, still unable to open his eyes despite knowing there was no chance of seeing his reflection from this angle; tears of frustration trailing down his face.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t look at his own reflection.

Not any more.

After Amane had passed, he had no issue looking in the mirror to see her looking back at him. He used to imagine that she wasn’t really gone, just trapped behind a wall of glass.

But then he came along.

Suddenly it wasn’t Amane behind the glass. It was a demon that wore his face…except the demon was able to actually gain control of his body. It was able to hurt him and his friends. Even after the demon had been exorcized, there were times he could have sworn that blood-red eyes were staring back at him…taunting him.

Over time it got worse. He’d feel relief at first seeing Amane, but he’d blink and those eyes would be staring back, then with the next blink it would be Amane again.

He was so tired. So weary. He didn’t want to see either anymore. He wanted his sister to move on. He wanted the demon to release him. He wanted to see his own face for a change.

“Please,” he quietly begged between sobs. “Just once. Let it be ME. Just once.”

He forced his eyes open this time, keeping his focus on the floor as he fought the urge to just crawl away and chalk this up as yet another failed attempt. He shakily forced his body to rise, relying on the counter for support.

He slowly, slowly, lifted his gaze, freezing as his eyes met the face in the mirror.

He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

The sound he made was quiet at first, but it quickly began to crescendo, becoming a full-on roar of laughter as he descended into madness.

~insanity noun : “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” -Albert Einstein

[skygent]

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss Hug It Out Prompts

Today at work I got to thinking about expanding my Hug It Out fics to other fandoms aside from Amphibia and Owl House and decided to start drafting up some ideas! These are all rough concepts right now and could change as they are refined. In case you don’t know, Hug It Out is a series of fics I have meant to be hurt/comfort fics for you! No matter what you may be going through. Some of them are interconnected in their own continuities but they are all meant to stand on their own.

Spoilers for all released Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss content as of 8/11/2024. Emily: Fallen One day while out and about, you discover that the seraphim Emily has fallen into Hell in the aftermath of The Show Must Go On. Acting quickly, you take Emily back to the Hazbin Hotel and try to help her adjust to her new surroundings and come to terms with being cast out of Heaven. Vaggie: Phantom Pain CW: Blood, Panic/Anxiety Attack, PTSD, Death and intense scenes of violence and peril One night at the Hazbin Hotel, you have a PTSD induced panic attack when memories of the night of your death come flooding back. Thankfully, your friend Vaggie is close by and dealing with these kind of episodes is an all too familiar experience for her Beelzebub: Slow Down While planning her next big party, Bee struggles with her self image as the fun party girl who is always in a good mood as the pressure of being helping her friend's escape from their day to day stressors starts to get to her. Verosika: Every Note A reader x Verosika continuity. You are upstart musician who has managed to enter a relationship with Hell's most famous pop star: Verosika Mayday. One quiet night after Apology Tour, you two have a talk about your shared passion for music and the healing power of creating art not just for yourselves, but others. Charlie and Vaggie: Better Off CW: Self-Harm, Blood, Suicide Attempt/Ideation One night, you decide that your parents; Charlie and Vaggie would be better off without you. Thankfully, before your attempt succeeds your parents find out what's going on and stop you, comfort you and start making plans to get you the help that you need. I am open to requests regarding characters and subjects you’d like to see, just let me know! My inbox is open! (I have a lot more time to actually answer now too!)

[lara-prism-light]

Trolls Never Apart AU - "The Accident" Animatic [Content warning - panic...