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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

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From previous ask:

Okay. So, basically, the reader struggles with s*lf h*rm. Except, Daemon has no idea. One day, he and the reader are horsing around the way buddies do, and he accidentally touches a scar. Daemon gets really upset and tries not to freak out because he really doesn’t want to lose the reader and ends up confessing his feelings for them in the process while trying to get them to see the beauty of life.

A/n: In light of suicide prevention month, this fic delves into topics such as of sh, depression, suicidal thoughts and self deprivation. Readers discretion is adviced. Do not read if sensitive to such topics.

Life brings great victory and great sorrow, no one was exempt from this notion, no matter how high their social positioning maybe; The rules applied to them as much as it did to any other of a differentiating social position. For you however it seemed that you bore the curse to walk away from one sorrow and into the next of a long line of sorrows that awaited you in later life to scar you in more ways then one. You tried to combat this overwhelming darkness within your chest that seemed to only tighten with each step you took, rendering you unable to get the required amount of air through your lungs as your throat tightened to a point it almost felt akin to constriction, through means that only the sharp end of a blade and the skin of your wrists -or other parts of your body that you could comfortably reach- have became well aquatinted in recent times.

You felt ashamed in resorting to such solutions yet you felt deep within your heart that this was the only way to properly cope with the dark cloud forming within your head, growing darker and stronger with each passing moment as it’s voice grew too loud to ignore. Mental health within the Seven kingdoms wasn’t taken as seriously as it should, often relegating it as a demonic possession which often lead to the wrongful deaths of many sufferers such as yourself. If you ever were to confine this information to a Maester in confidence, it would only be a matter of time before he claimed you an abomination to the faith of allowing demons to enter your body. Before demanding of the kind that you’d be sentenced to death under the pretence of being a danger to the throne and the kingdoms. To which you wouldn’t be surprised if King Viserys would agree to such terms as the longer he remained on the throne the less inclined he was to fight.

So instead you chose to suffer in silence with the demon as it took your voice and the voices of the people you’ve genuinely came to love to taunt you daily with your shortcomings, faulty relationships, your self value; right down to comparing you to people of your age who seemingly had their lives pieced together better then you did with your constant stumbling through life with no clear end in sight in due to thinking that you wouldn’t be alive as long as you did. Leaving you a lost, scared lamb in a society oversaw by wolves, dragons, lions and other predators who held the fates of you and the Seven Kingdoms in the palm of their hands; teetering on the edge of encasing their hands around it and crushing it to stardust. Tragedy may not have struck you -unless it did and you couldn’t remember the exact details due to the trauma it delt you mentally- yet you felt as though you have been hollowed out at a young age and left alone to deal with it’s repercussions with no kind hand to guide you that didn’t belong to death them self.

The voice within your head even went as far as to berate you for not going through with your initial plan of taking your own life; claiming the reasoning behind it was that you secretly enjoyed suffering so much that you were subconsciously willing to prolong it. Along with the fact that sorrow, misery and suffering were the only emotions you wanted to feel because they proved that you could still feel pain, feel hurt like humans do after believing you were less then one for so, so, long. It also reminded you of how easily manipulated, how easily broken you were by a few aptly choice words chosen by yourself because if you could think that way about yourself, who was to say that someone, somewhere in the Seven Kingdoms didn’t also share similar thoughts? It must hold some truth at the very least!

Yet your life’s only greatest victory was when Daemon Targaryen became your only friend; With the beat of a dragons wing, your dark thoughts seemed to momentarily relegate to that of a nullified humming, something more easily ignored in favour of his voice, his eyes and his platinum blonde hair that shone like the purest silver. You met whilst out in the forest where you were attempting to go through with taking your life; When he came onto the scene not too long after with a growing Caraxes gilding towards you with something within his mouth that looked like a dead rat the size of a cat or a cat the size of a baby rat. The details had became all too blurry to remember but by the end of the day it concluded with you walking out of that forest with a new friend. Whilst it didn’t subdue the demons within your head, it did give you something to live for -even if that wasn’t the most healthiest of outcomes for one as young as you were back then to come to- it was something that you could use to anchor yourself rather then be washed away. Sometimes that anchor wasn’t enough to stave off the thoughts for long unfortunately…

You’ve long since came to terms with the fact that you weren’t destined for a happy ending so you like to pretend that you were as you plucked some grass from the ground to sprinkle over Daemon’s unique hair whilst trying to stifle the grin that only seemed to stretch wider with each attempt. It was moments like this that you cherished within your heart, the moments where you were allowed to act like a kid in the presence of someone you loved so dearly that it physically pained you to see them smile the same way they did with you but within the presence of someone else who could also provide them happiness so effortlessly; while for you it began a struggle to find happiness in even the most mundane things never less in the things you once proved gifted in. Daemon opened his eye to peer at you with a smile of his own, resting his head further against the makeshift pillows that were his arms. “What’re you doing little minx?” He says, opening his other eye this time and pushing himself up onto his arms as he adjusted himself to get a better look at your guilty self. “Nothing you can’t prove my prince.” You replied cheekily, eyes locked on a stray blade of grass that somehow managed to proudly implant itself upright in the sea of Daemon’s platinum blonde locks.

“Nothing you claim,” Daemon began as he reached a hand to roughly where you were staring at so gleefully where he managed to pluck the upstanding blade of grass between his nimble fingers, bringing it to his face where his violet eyes shimmered with amusement, “then what do you call this.” He presented his evidence before your eyes, arm outstretched to it’s fullest length, “defend yourself for enacting such treacherous act upon your prince.” his voice was playful as he acted as the judge, jury and executioner while you the perpetrator on trial trying to convey their innocence. “The trees spoke to me in a dream that they’d shed their most beautiful leaves out of sympathy and to add something to spice up your bland hair.” It wasn’t uncommon for you to pretend to hate Daemons hair to gauge his reaction when in reality you admire it more then anything that would be categorise as precious, priceless or sought after. Daemon gasped dramatically, almost falling onto the broadside of his back at your seemingly scandalous claims, bringing a hand to his chest as his heart was sent a flutter at the sound of your laughter. The prince of House Targaryen was more then willing to act a fool within your presence if it were to bring about the very same smile upon your lips that he so craved to see day and night.

Daemon couldn’t help but prolong this moment as he stared at you while you smiled. The seven gods would be jealous of such a perfectly imperfect smile that you possessed. He felt lost in the moment with you and nothing could beat that feeling for him, not even the victory feats in his honour could alight his soul with such warmth as you could; He’d happily trade his sword to be at your hand and foot if it meant to bear witness firsthand to your holy smile and preach about it like it was gospel, like it was his entire faith come to life before him. To Daemon your smile was one that fables were written about, the reason the why bards sing so beautifully and the reason why myths and legends exist; to him, your smile meant everything and to loose it so suddenly…he wouldn’t know what to do…it would be like god had up and abandoned his creations without so much as a word to why. He would loose the only guiding light in his life that didn’t view him as much as a monster, as a parasitical plague as his brother did; he just couldn’t risk that reality coming to fruition and by the gods he would do everything within his power to prevent that from ever coming to pass. After all with Fire and Blood, everything would have to answer to the House Targaryen sooner or later if they wish to keep breathing new air through their lungs.

“Bland?!” Daemon screeches like a high maester being told his faith was fake, “how dare you bespoke such nonsense that you know naught of, little minx!” You squealed in surprise as Daemon made a grab at your wrist that you instinctively pulled away, making sure to grip the fabric of your sleeve with your fingertips as to prevent Daemon from seeing the art gallery of scars that littered your skin from the wrist upwards., suddenly insecure. Daemon however saw this as you being playful and in your moment of hesitation he managed to grab hold of your wrist the second time, squeezing a little too tightly for your liking as you yelped in pain, yanking you arm back forcefully this time from his hold as you cradled your arm against you chest to see that your newest addition to your scar gallery had already started to bleed a little through the sloppy bandages. Tears pricking your eyes but not from the singe of pain but more towards Daemon’s sudden silence to your reaction. This was the end, he was going to see you as a lost cause like everyone else did and leave you on the dirt road to die like you so desired it seemed; millions of possible outcomes to this situation were brought to the forefront of your mind that you didn’t have time to react when Daemon reached for your arm once again but in a more gentle approach. Holding onto your hand this time as he brought your arm to his gaze, fingers brushing against the smidge of bloodied bandages with a feather light gaze.

You swallowed thickly, feeling the fear trickle through your veins like ice, your resolve died on your tongue as you watched Daemon’s jaw clench and unclench in what you prayed to the Seven wasn’t anger aimed at you in any way shape or form whilst his brows furrowed, making his violet eyes take a darker shade of amethyst. “Daemon-“ “you deserve better.” His words cut your own short as you’d rated in him incredulously. “What are you-“ “I mean it,” he interrupts once more, “you deserve better y/n. Life has been cruel to the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen. There are worse men out their who deserve death and yet here you are being tormented with their hell. I refuse to stand by and watch this unfair treatment continue.” Daemon proclaims as he brought you both to your feet where he took the opportunity to hold your face within his hands. “My angel, my light, my deity, my beloved, I am beyond the help of words in conveying my heartbreak at your mistreatment. By those who phased through your life before me but I promise you here and now beneath the Weirwood tree that I shall bestow before you only the most rewarding sceneries the Seven Kingdoms could ever provide. For you deserve only the best of what life can give, never the opposite.”

Tears fell from your eyes to kiss the skin of his thumbs that brushed away at the cluster of unshed tears at the corners of your eyes so gently you felt as though you could break apart within his hold right then and there but he didn’t allow you as he brought you to rest your weary head against his chest as his head pressed against yours. “You may not believe you are worth the basic level of kindness but I can assure you that you are worth that and so much more in comeuppance. The Seven should beg for your forgiveness, not you for you haven’t done nearly the qualified amount for such.” Daemon concluded as he pressed a kiss to your hair, lingering there to breath you in deeply as he held you insanely close to his body as though he feared you’d become like the sand and slip through his fingers. “Daemon,” you called out his name, “you aren’t disgusted by me…by…by this?” You asked of him as you lifted the sleeves of your shirt to show how far the bandages stretch, bearing your fragile soul for him to dictate whether to cherish it or be rid of it like everything else he looses interest in.

“Never,” Daemon responded without any hesitation, “if anything I find you to be the strongest, most powerful person because of this, your perseverance through the rough circumstances that even the boldest of men would break under. You are worth every ounce of heartbreak to me because to be loved by you is to be loved by an angel or being of higher power.” His voice was soft as silk again your ears as you buried your head into his neck, not wanting him to see the state you were in but didn’t fight against him when he pulled only the slightest away to rest his forehead against your own. “You are my dragonfire y/n, you are my source of power. Allow me into your heart and I shall prove to you that these riverbanks and theses landscapes are more then stories speak of them to be.” Daemon stops himself to pick up your arm and press soft kisses against the bandages where he presumed your scars -both old and new- were all the while staring into your eyes before pulling away. “Allow me to show you that every riverbank, every landscape, ever forest is more then the hindered beauty stories write them out to be as to me with you there, you’ll inspire them to become their truest forms for it is impossible to outshine a battle torn star such as yourself. I want to see every scenery I take you to reflected within your eyes for them would I know that your soul is on the mend.”

“Do you really mean that Daemon, do you truly wish to be my sworn sword and never leave me all on my lonesome?” You asked, desperate to hear his answer that came in a sequence of actions as Daemon brought his hand to the back of your head, drawing in you even nearer as his breath brushed against the apples of your cheeks, “forever and all ways my beloved.” He confessed before leaning in to implement a chaste kiss upon your lips, a vow consummated beneath the bleeding eyes of the Weirwood tree.

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3amclothesmonster · 9 months

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Vent TW's listed below in tags.

No aunt, I'm not faking autism and ADHD. No, I can't sleep because I'm not getting enough energy out it's because I have insomnia.

No aunt, Your own husband didn't strangle me cause we were wrestling, I was fucking eight and he almost killed me. No, he didn't accidentally touch me. He doesn't see me as his nephew he sees me as a toy. HE DIDN'T FUCKING ALMOST ACCIDENTALLY BREAK MY ARM.

Stop making up fucking excuses. You're no ally if you say straight up homophobic shit. You say you'll support but hate the idea of seeing me as a boy. You constantly gaslight and play victim. Blaming your own trauma on the things you do. Yes I get that your parents weren't the best but that doesn't give you a fucking excuse to treat me like I'm some object.

You act like self harm and suicide are something that people do for attention and didn't even care when I told you I needed help.

IT WASN'T MY FUCKING PERIOD IT WAS ACTUAL DAMN DEPRESSION

Thanks for causing my issues Aunt and Uncle.

#TW: Mentions of SA #TW: Abuse #TW: Homophobia #TW: Transphobia #TW: Mentions of self harm #TW: Mentions of suicide #Vent #I can even escape them cause they're my legal guardians #I'll probably delete this later if I remember

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bnha-more-like-bnh-gay · 1 year

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Bnha characters as mental health memes I have saved to my phone part 4 >:D

Tw: mentions of su!c!d3

Izuku:

TW: MENTIONS OF SELF HARM

Izuku, overworking himself:

Shouto, koda, toga, or shiggy:

Shouto, before and shortly after the sports festival:

Shouto: spiting my father

Shouto: disrespecting authority figures

Honestly? Mic:

Dabi:

Tokoyami:

Please talk to me about ghost files

Izuku:

Uraraka, Shouto, and Mina:

Izuku, kiri, and toga:

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perpetualproductions · 3 months

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Oh Anna by Mother Mother causally giving Marie Moreau Vibes...

All in the lyrics, dude.

(tw: mentions of self harm and attempted suicide along with similar themes)

#marie moreau #gen v #genv #marie moreau headcannon #marie moreau music headcannon #and her sister's name is Annabeth #it just fits #tw: mentions of self harm #tw: blood #tw: mentions of suicide #Spotify

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levixthxn-thegirl · 2 years

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TW: mentions of self harm and religion down below

Ambrosine having the job of an exorcist doesn't really go away when she gains her place and titles as a prince of Hell. If anything, her methodology changes to better suit her employment of her Leviathan abilities.

She never wanted to give up the job, not wanting abandoned what gave her purpose when the possession left her a empty version of herself, nor waste her talents when people can still be helped by them. She couldn't allow anyone to go through what she did. So rather, she made adjustments to the process.

Rather than a traditional catholic rosary, Ambrosine made her own to serve in its place. The beads are glass, with pendants being a different color than the rest. The center is a pendant of a sea serpent baring resemblance to Leviathan's original form. The crucifix instead is an old large iron nail with the same sigils and text that can be found on the Dagger of Apophis carved on the sides. The purpose for that is to be able to cut into her skin, primarily her palms, so that she can use the Leviathan ichor in the ritual. The use of the ichor is to be administered to the possessed, and using a part of Leviathan's soul to overpower the possessing spirit or demon and drive it out. This is only used, however, as a last resort.

#about the muse #the young leviathan #tw: mentions of bodily harm #tw: self harm #tw: mentions of self harm #tw: religious themes #tw: catholicism

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starlightseraph · 3 months

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house md will always be remebered as the most insane thing ever broadcast because of how unabashedly feral everyone involved was.

a short collection of things that happen on the show, just off the top of my head, not even scratching the surface:

- house shoots a random dead body in the morgue and then sticks him in an mri machine, which pulls the bullet out of the dead guy’s head and destroys the machine, costing the hospital millions

- foreman gets bitten by a person with rabies

- chase kills an african dictator

- cameron steals drugs from a patient after possibly getting hiv from said patient

- house induces a migraine and then takes a drug made by his arch nemesis (who he’s been stalking for 25 years) to get the drug taken off the market. he then takes lsd (in the hospital, in the middle of a case) to cure the migraine.

- chase goes into anaphylaxis after doing body shots

- house stops an elevator so he can perform a cavity (vaginal) search on a teenage heart transplant patient who’s in cardiorespiratory arrest

- they give a neurosurgeon mushrooms to cure his food poisoning, then they stick him in an operating room. the neurosurgeon strips in front of a health board assessor.

- kutner dies for gay marriage

- house sets an autopsy room on fire while trying to juggle flaming bottles

- house gets recruited by the cia

- taub gets held at gun point after diagnosing a stripper with skin cancer

- in almost every single episode, the team breaks into multiple houses

- house fakes terminal brain cancer so he can get drugs implanted directly into the pleasure centre of his brain

- house cons us immigration to get his fake wife a green card. he also uses his fake wife’s ukrainian food truck to spy on people

- house tries to get wilson, his closet case boybestfriend, into bed every few episodes. every other sentence out of house’s mouth is about wanting to rail wilson.

- taub has a kid with his ex-wife, after they divorce, at the same time he has a kid with his 25 yo side piece. the kids’ names are sophie and sophia.

- house and wilson have a bet on who can hide a chicken in the hospital the longest without anyone finding out

- house tries to kill himself like 6 times and always fails (insulin shock, overdoses, electrocution, jumping off a building, cutting, etc)

- house fakes his death to get out of a prison sentence after violating his parole so he can live out his bi love story with his gay best friend who has 5 months to live

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avalonianartisan · 1 year

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I got bored and decided I'd write a random essay in an hour to see if I still had it in me. Haven't actually written an essay in years

Trigger and Content Warning: This essay dives into eating disorders, fatphobia, mental illness, self-harm, and systemic medical malpractice. I'm also including the poem from the end, which partially uses the End Poem by Julian Gough ---

Your body is not you

Your body is a vessel for the stars

A vessel for life

For happiness

and for sorrow

Your body is not you

Your body is the creature that holds you

The only form of you we can touch

Regardless of your size, your weight, your age

The only form of you we can hold

and praise

and protect

Look up at the stars

Because you are loved

#diet culture #tw: eating disorders #tw: fatphobia #tw: medical #tw: mental illness #tw: self destruction #tw: sh #tw: mentions of self harm #caykes chaos

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storystartsanew · 1 year

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Solo Para: The Phone Call

TW: Mentions of Self Harm

Avalon jumps when her phone starts ringing. The screen lights up with the dreaded name she doesn’t want to hear from. ‘Dad’. She debates just not answering, but that seems worse in the long run. Taking a deep breath, she picks up the phone and slides her thumb across the accept button.

“Hi, Dad. What’s up?” She says as she puts it up to her ear.

“I saw your new post on InstaRoyal. New hair?” Her dad sounds tense, it sets Avalon on edge. She’d known this was coming, but it still scares her.

Avalon takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I thought it was time for a change.”

“Sweetie, we talked about this.” The conversations play through her mind. The incessant need to be the perfect family drilled into her.

She takes a deep breath and keeps her voice even. “It’s just hair dye, dad. I’m nineteen. I think it’s okay if a nineteen year old princess dyes her hair once in her life.”

“You need to be respectable, Avalon,” he snaps.

“And I am.” Her voice tightens, but she takes a breath and puts a lid on her anger. “I had it done really well, and I’m going to take care of it so that it doesn’t fade weird.”

“What on earth possessed you to do it in the first place?”

Avalon shrugs, even though she knows he can’t see her. “It’s just been really stressful lately. I thought it would be something fun to do.”

Her father sighs loudly. “There had to be less permanent stress relief options.” She finally snaps, her anger bubbling over. “I could always cut myself. See if that gets your attention.”

“Avalon!”

“What? That’s what Holly did! Or did you not notice that either.” There’s a moment of silence on the phone before he responds, with a formulaic excuse he’s given countless times. “Your sister has serious mental health issues that she chooses not to address. You should not be following in her example.”

Avalon scoffs. “Are you telling me I’m not allowed to have serious mental health issues, Dad?”

“No, that’s not-”

“Holly’s issues are a direct result of your shitty parenting, Dad.” She’s on a roll now. It all comes tumbling out. “And so are mine. You’ve spent so long trying to make sure you had the perfect family, you never stopped to realize you fucked us all up in the process.”

Silence fills the air once more before her mother’s voice answers, “Avalon Miriam Ericsdottir, you will not speak to your father like this!”

Avalon laughs sarcastically. “I will speak to him however I damn well please. I am a grown adult. If you two can’t hear the truth, that’s on you.”

Her father’s voice comes back on the line. Of course, her mother ran instead of seeing the truth. “We never should’ve let Oakley transfer out there. He’s a bad influence on you too.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Oakley? You really will just blame everything on us before you take an ounce of responsibility. I have green hair now, Dad. Deal with it.”

She hangs up the phone before he can get out another word. There will be hell to pay for this, but it’s worth it. Freedom comes at the price of her parent’s approval. She’s slowly learning to accept that fact. This is just the first step.

#perfection is the only answer: avalon ericsdottir #tw: mentions of self harm

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justflesh54 · 4 months

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its my body surely i have the right to harm it if i wish ???

#actually bpd #cvtaddict #self h@rm #self mutalition #slef harm #tw self destructive behavior #sh mention #styroblr #hitting styro #cutt1ng #chronically ill #i want to cvt

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bat-revival · 2 years

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So, I've never really done something like this before but I really have the urge to just scream into the void and I don't want to keep using my boyfriend and my friends as emotional dumpsters. So please, feel free to just ignore this.

It's stupid really, because everything I'm feeling right now was triggered by a stupid teenage coming of age series with a stupid love triangle where the girl ends up with the wrong guy (imho).

So, it's late over here, it's nearly 3 am and everything hurts. My life is deeply unsatisfying as it is (this doesn't apply to my boyfriend, he's great and I love him very much and he's my rock and lifeline but I also don't want to burden him too much with my baggage) with uni and me trying to figure out what to do next, but also with the climate crisis, the rise of nationalism and fascism and war right around the corner. I know these are things everyone's struggling with and I'm not alone with these fears and uncertainties.

It's just... I fail at doing the simplest tasks. I can't concentrate and it takes me a million years to do the shortest uni assignments, if I can actually get myself to start in the first place.

I feel like I'm constantly disappointing everyone. For example, i have a deep fear of driving cars (my driving teacher was a huge asshole who made me feel stupid, small and insecure behind the wheel and it kinda stuck) and my bf and I had to drive a lot this past month (and I mean A LOT- our hometown is 4 hours away by car). My bf usually drives because he enjoys it and he won't really let me drive because I once had a panic attack behind the wheel while he was there. But now we had a fight because I don't drive but at the same time he won't let me. So yesterday I put my foot down and insisted on driving for a few hours and it was alright I guess, I mean I CAN drive, but it was so fucking hard for me to concentrate, my mind was constantly wandering and I couldn't do shit about it which was really fucking scary and staying focused was exhausting. It was super shameful because driving feels like such a simple adult task yet I'm failing at it and when I had finally parked the car I couldn't even be proud for driving despite my fears.

And this seems to apply to every aspect of my life. Being afraid and insecure, trying hard to focus, doing alright but under so much Stress that it's just a horrible experience anyway.

I have a lot of friends but I don't really feel close to them. And it's my fault, I try to keep a little distance because I tend to like them a lot more than they me and it always hurts to have that realization. It's happened a lot, in fact it happened last just before my birthday in June. It's also hard for me to keep contact with people via social media, I guess that's why people always like me less. It makes confiding in people harder ,too.

The fact that I'm dealing with depression and anxiety since I was fifteen doesn't really help the overall situation and I constantly need to consume media to drown out the noise in my head, which in turn doesn't help my concentration problem. I used to self harm a lot, but I stopped after my current bf begged me to. Now I haven't done anything physical for three and a half years but my fingers are always itching and I can't even buy this fancy skin friendly razor because it needs "real" blades and I can't trust myself around them because I constantly feel a *need*. I watch my scars closely and they're starting to fade which lead to another panic attack because i kind of need to see my scars to know that everything was and is still very real and that I'm not making it all up.

I haven't actively thought about killing myself for 9 years now, so that's good I guess. but I also just really really don't want to live.

I also recently had covid for the first time and it really took a toll on my lungs and I have a few breathing problems. They're getting better ,sure, but right now, I haven't been able to excercise for 5 weeks. Normally, I excercise 4 to 5 times a week. And all this sitting around is driving me insane. I want to run and I want to scream, i want to lift heavy stuff and feel in control for once. my skin crawls and itches and I can't let it out.

On top of everything, my grandma died very suddenly three weeks ago. There was a sudden and unexplainable bleeding in her head that damaged the entire brain, they didn't even try surgery because she was gone immediately. I mean, her body lived, but she was gone. I had talked to her around noon on the same day and everything was fine and not even 6 hours later she collapsed.

We were very close and I miss her so much. She was such a guiding light and inspiration for me, I'll never meet anyone like her again. Life without her seems impossible and unreal , yet time keeps flying. June in general lasted for 20 years and July isn't looking much better.

I'm so tired, I just want to sleep, but I can't. I feel so stuck and nothing makes sense and I just don't want to live this life anymore.

And now, this girl chose the wrong guy and I simply burst into tears. It's so stupid and I can't even explain myself but everything came to the surface and I'm just trying to beat my feelings with a stick so that they'll go into hiding again.

I miss life. I miss being excited. I miss looking forward to things. I miss waking up without immediately worrying.

Ugh alright, thank you tumblr for letting me rant. I know this is a downer and I hope people don't read this and feel sad. I just needed a place to put all this. Half of this might not even make sense and I'm sure I have forgotten a few things but I don't think that's important, because I actually feel better now. Sigh. Maybe I do need a therapist again.

#rambling #just ignore this #tw: mentions of self harm #tw: mentions of suicidal thoughts

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

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What was once lost is now found

A/n: since everyone loved and practically demanded to know if our dear reader ever got found. Enjoy and thank you for liking my shit. (Also I’m skipping some bits cuz this fic is long enough.)

pt 1

Summary: with Steven gone, Marc is left to uphold his promise, the problem was how could he when he didn’t know where to start? Luckily fate finally decided to take pity.

Warnings: self-deprication, angst, slight depression and not so nice thoughts and attempt of self harm. (Ie: digging nails into skin and such.)

Steven was gone. Perished. Nothing but his stone statue remains within the vast expanses of sand that laid long behind him as it did wide alongside of the countless other unfortunate souls who once believed they had the heart required for passage to the fabled Field of Reeds. The very same field that Marc now found himself utterly lost in with the heat beating down upon his back whilst he let his gaze search beyond the fields for a indication of his escape in attempt to conceal his lacklustre state of mind.

‘This is where the worthiest went?’ Marc thought to himself as flashes of Steven’s form slowly succumbing to the process as he fell to his knees, arm outstretched for Marc to take in a desperate cry for help followed by the mere whisper of his name before he become unmoving. An artistic standstill of Marc’s newest failure, made purely to mock him and his inability to save those who needed him most. Steven’s face was the first thing Marc’s mind could equate to the word worthy. As a matter of fact Marc never felt worthy. Not even a little, not when Harrow was still alive, not when Layla’s fate was undetermined, not when he had a promise to uphold to his alter in finding you and most certainly not when Steven sacrificed himself just for him to stand in a unwanted state of self reflection instead of finishing what he originally set off to do.

It wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve this. Steven should be here basking in the light, not him! He should’ve been the one to turn to stone, not Steven. Yet fate has already played out as intended, not as one wanted. Seeing no reason to keep his walls up Marc allowed himself a moment of release as he sunk to his knees as tears pricked his eyes; the cries of his name from both Randall and Steven were sounding all too similar for his licking, taunting him with memories of how he failed them both, reminding him that being Marc Spector wasn’t in any sort of a blessing in disguise. Danger followed in his footsteps after all as flashes of Abdallah El Faouly’s corpse came to the forefront of his mind like a haunting reminder that despite his abilities to save people from similar fates, it wasn’t enough to erase the faces of those whom he wasn’t strong enough to protect. In fact they served as a lesson learnt in the most cruelest of ways. A lesson permanently seared into Marc’s mind of the fate he could lead someone down unwillingly if he were to allow himself to become comfortable with the company of others.

His mother’s cries of ‘THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT’ still dug daggers into his soul as he felt it break and fracture off into little splinters that while unseen to the human eye could cause just as much pain as any other inflicted injury. Marc was well aware that it was all his fault, he didn’t need to be reminded of such when he does it all by himself on a daily basis ever since leaving his family home as a teenage youth while also trying to come across as a well put together individual with a hardened exterior. His father, try as he might, was of no help at all. Did he truly expect Marc to withstand his mothers’ violent outbursts that only seemed to get worse as time went painfully by? Under the false pretence that she’d one day get better? His father had been spouting that same old shit for too long and in the end it become too much for Marc. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to get better and his father was too oblivious to see the damage caused by his optimism that had pushed Marc into doing what was best for him which was packing his bags and leaving in hopes of a somewhat better life elsewhere.

If only he knew what he knew now but even if he did would it change anything that has lead him this far or would he have taken a completely different route to prolong the inevitable. “Steven,” Marc cried, knowing that no matter how loud he’d scream Steven would never be able to hear him-nobody would- yet something within him told him to at least try, “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault you’re not here with me! I was too weak to protect myself never less protect you. I’m sorry for pushing the responsibilities onto you…please…I don’t know if I can do this on my own.” His voice cracked as his hands that laid in his lap gripped at his legs, his arms, his hair, anywhere that would cause him significant pain in a act of attempted self-harm. He just wanted to feel something then the crushing guilt he carried for so long sitting within his chest, getting heavier with each mistake made. It was too much for him to bear a majority of the time that when he was at his lowest he would even contemplate the importance of his existence when it caused so much pain; Marc didn’t think his existence as vital but yet would always find himself prioritising his duties rather then his own emotional and mental state. His thoughts and feelings were never taken into account when someone’s life was at stake for there was always more important issues at hand then his human emotions or how he felt about certain things. He didn’t allow himself that luxury so it caused Marc to begin neglecting his own feelings and instead focused on the unhealthy side of things that it took a heavy toll on all the relationships he’s built thanks to his lack of communication skills and tendency to keeping secrets.

Marc didn’t know you but after that memory he felt as though he was partly responsible for your disappearance. You play such a pivotal part in Steven’s life that once this was all resolved Marc would happily let you and Steven to live out a happier life together, the life he could never have yet it wasn’t going to be that simple. He of all people knew that it wouldn’t. For all he knew you could quite possibly be dead and that searching for you would be proven useless but he knew that Steven would never stop looking for you. He never has from what Marc could gather when he saw Steven’s face fall into one of melancholy when he saw your smiling face. Your disappearance was a breaking point for Steven as he was lost without your light to guide him and would blatantly disregard his health and well being if it meant getting you back because despite all that Steven is, he was brave and held no fear when the people he loved were in peril.

That was another reason why Steven should’ve been in the field of reeds instead of him. It pained Marc beyond belief being unable to save Steven, to feel as helpless as he did when he was forced to watch him become stone as everything within him screamed at him to save him, to reach out to him! It was almost as though he was being forced to watch his brother drown while he fought with all his might to keep himself alive that day in the cave. Helpless and powerless to prevent it from ever happening. Yet the thought of having one son safe from harm wasn’t enough for his mother. In fact it was probable to assume that she believed within her bouts of grief that the wrong son died and that had it been Marc instead she wouldn’t have batted an eye and moved on with life as though nothing tragic has occurred. Would life have been different had that happened? Would it be his brother standing where he stood instead or would he live a relatively normal life with mother and father like a normal family?

Some to think of it Steven was everything Marc wished he had. The semi-normal life, the illusions of a loving mother, a goldfish, everything. Steven was also Marc’s protector in his worst of times; defending him against anything that could cause him harm and in exchange Marc became Steven’s protector in situations where physical violence would be required. Marc did this because he wasn’t strong enough to protect Randall. Now that he’s lost Steven he couldn’t help but be reminded of that loss, that unwanted feeling of hopelessness and the feeling of being weak. He felt that day as illusions of water whooshing past his ears as though he was back there again but this time with Steven instead of Randall.

Whatever the case Marc knew he shouldn’t indulge too much into the past for he didn’t have the ability to do so freely. Inhaling deeply through his nose, Marc regained his bearings and gradually made his way back up to his feet, lifting a hand to wipe away the any of the fallen tears as his mind refocused on the time sensitive task at hand; to find a way out of the field of reeds and stop Harrow before it was too late. Yet he didn’t want to do this alone so before his mind could make itself up he was already running back into the sandy dunes of the Duat as fast as his legs could carry him through the muscle strain where he was confronted by Steven’s stone body half buried beneath the sand; staring straight at him with his hand outstretched still.

“Steven,” Marc drops to his knees before him, “looking pretty rough man.” He spoke through a tearful smile before uttering his next words, “I don’t know if you can hear me. From the moment you arrived, way back then, we were so young. You saved me. I survived because I knew I wasn’t alone anymore for you were always there, alive, full of hope and I tried to protect that and I failed. I couldn’t protect you.” His voice broke once more but Marc was more primarily focused on the cold sensation within his hardening arm, he looked down to see that he too was succumbing to the same fate as Steven and yet he wasn’t afraid, if anything he’s more at peace with becoming stone then he ever did with standing within the peaceful Field of Reeds. “You didn’t abandon me, you didn’t abandon me and although that field back there was looking…was looking pretty good. There was no way in hell m going to abandon you.” By the end of his speech Marc noticed that half of him was already stone when he tried with all his might to do the simple task of lifting his arm but couldn’t hold it for longer then a second as it plummeted back into the sand like a weight. Accepting his fate Marc said some final words, “you are the only real superpower I ever had.” With the remainder of his strength he brought his arm towards Steven’s so it would look like them were grasping hands together so he would be reminded that he wasn’t alone anymore, that he hasn’t been abandoned. They were together eternally entombed in stone. That wasn’t so bad of a fate. Marc thought as he let himself finally relax.

Stood away aways from them opened a door that streamed a warm light onto Marc and Steven and into their hands, freeing them from their imprisonment almost immediately as though by a miracle. Steven let himself gulp in air when he was freed from the stone as Marc followed afterwards doing the exact same thing as they stared at each other, smiles growing across their faces when realisation hit them both. “Marc.” Steven uttered, his throat inexplicably dry despite the short amount of time spent in stone though to Steven it felt a lot longer. “Steven.” Marc replied, happy to see him free and talking again as Steven hauled him up to his feet. “You came back? What the hells wrong with you?” Steven asked, smiling widely. Marc shrugged, “well I did do a whole little speech there.” Marc retorted as he tried to regain his bearings, “it wasn’t that little.” Steven chuckled before Marc brought him into a tighter embrace then their precious one after finding one another. Momentarily forgetting what was happening within the land of the living as they aloud themselves a little breather from everything so far.

“Besides I wouldn’t have wanted to find y/n without you. You deserve to see them again Steven and I’m not going to take that possibility from you. Not after everything we’ve been through.” Steven’s eyes widened in remembrance. You. In his last moments before becoming stone all he could think was about you. He didn’t know if your soul was amongst the many unfairly judged by Harrow. He hoped that wasn’t the case and that you were as far away as you possibly could be from harrow’s grasp. For he didn’t know what he would do if that bastard ever did get to you before him. His mind couldn’t fathom that reality and refused to even speculate that sort of thing ever happening. You had a soul as pure and as good as they come in his eyes when he remembered your vibrant smile aimed his way. He had no visual on what was happening but he only hoped that both you and Layla were unscathed. As though he was remembering what they were meant to be doing beforehand this sweet reunion Steven looked back at the gate, determined more then ever, “look Marc, the gates are open!” Marc looked to where Steven was looking with a smile. They were finally getting out of here for once and for all.

Meanwhile elsewhere you were trudging through the ash coloured ground leaving bloodied foot prints behind as you dragged on with aching and straining muscles that screamed for sleep. “Are we done here? Or are we done.” You asked the dark entity that stared back at you upon a dark throne that could only be preserved by blue candle light that were mounted upon the wall behind them casting a elongated shadow across the floor. The entity was clearly bored from their slouched posture and how they practically held the weight of their head upon their hand whilst they started you down with glowing eyes. “Oh we’re far from done my favourite little pawn.” They growled as they stood to their full height, making their way down from the obsidian steps until you could smell the smoke and death they emitted when they stopped in front of you. The entity in question had greying skin of that of a defying corpse; You still remember the amount of times where they made you pick up their jaw that fell loosely from their face that it might as well be a separate thing entirely, not to mention the sickening sound it would make when reattaching the damn thing. Their hair was greasy and black as the night itself yet held an elegance as it dropped pathetically past their shoulders and stopped mid back. Brushing that thing was like trying to brush water, it was unhealthy thin yet weighed just about as much as a dead fish did when moving aside to put their hair in their usual half up half down style. Their robes consisted of pale blues, blacks and grey that upon further inspection it looked as though they had faces within the clothing looking as though to be in inexplicable pain and torture.

“What do you mean by that?” You bite back, wanting nothing more then the slit their throat when they least expected if it meant getting back to Steven, back to where you belong. It’s been so long since you’ve last heard word of him from the crows that would do their masters bidding in adding them information from the realm of the living. You would be surprised if Steven even remembered you now cos seeing how well the entity made it seem that you disappeared when in actual fact it was the complete opposite. The entity chuckled as they walked past you, their shoulder badly touched you yet you couldn’t help but collapse to the ground at the cold sensation akin to only death as you attempt to grasp your bearings once more and control your breathing that came out in cold puffs of air. The entity stopped to look over their shoulder at you with the best attempt of a sickening smile as their rotting jaw looked about ready to detach from their face, “we’ve got your little lover boy to visit. I’m was certain that would make you happy so why the face I wonder?”

You growled, “touch Steven and I’ll fucking KILL YOU! Do anything to him and I’ll fucking burn your realm to the ground DO YOU HEAR ME!” The entity only chuckled at your threats as they walked back over to kneel before you as they grasp your face within their freezing hand, bringing you closer to their face as they sneered, “tough words form such a weak human, be grateful I took putty on you or else you would’ve died by now.” You couldn’t say anything in response as their cold skin all but bit and deep into your skin that it felt as though you were getting a brain freeze but only way worse. So instead you just glared at the entity as they let go of your face and began walking away once again. “Now get moving or else I shall make the next punishment make this one I had you go on look like a walk in the park.” There was nothing you could do to combat them at the moment but one day you would but then again you did give them your soul in exchange for life albeit forced though. So if you were ever to go through with that plan there was a high chance that they could just kill you then and there without so much of a sweat being broken. You must’ve been thinking too much for the entities likening as their yelling could be heard from afar, “ my pawn!” “Coming!” You yelled back as you managed to get yourself off the floor, dusting yourself down as you ran after the entity with regret. “Don’t worry Steven, I’m coming home, just not in the way you’d expect.”

-time skip-

Everything was back to some semblance of normality. Yes even the ankle restraint was now considered an aspect of normality for Steven as he awoke back in his apartment. Khonshu was no longer tethered to him any longer as far as he was aware and with Harrow away at some institution he could confidently say that there would be no more cults for Marc to hunt down anymore for the time being. Yet as he was removing the ankle restraint a knock came at the door which stopped Steven. He was certain he wasn’t expecting anyone, he wasn’t sure Marc was either seeing as Layla was busy elsewhere but made the journey towards the door either way albeit hesitantly. “Who is it?” He called out, waiting for an answer. “Steven.” That voice. It couldn’t could it? Steven had never dashed so quickly towards the door in his entire life as he removed the locks and pulled the door open so fast he almost rammed it into his nose at one point. There before him stood you as though you’ve never left, as though your apartment was bare of your belongings, as though you’ve been here the whole time eating for him to come home. “Y/n?” You looked at him with that same smile that you did way back when. “Hi Steven, long time no see.” Steven didn’t waste any time dragging you into his apartment so he could bring you into a tight embrace, burying his head into your neck and he felt your arms grasp at his back as though he would become sand beneath your touch. “How did you find me? I mean you know where my apartment is but what I means is where have you-“ “it’s a long story Steven.” You tried to wave off but Steven was notoriously persistent, “I’ve got all the time to hear it out on full.” He pulled away to look at your face before realising that something was wrong…very wrong.

There were scars littering your face and you were wearing a baggy beige overcoat, Steven knew you hated beige but peaking out from the overcoat looked to be a suit of sorts that when you took off the coat, coaxing him into not panicking beforehand, was a black robe that seemed to have faces in eternal torment melded within the fabric, almost moving in desperation of escaping that it made poor Steven’s blood go cold. “I don’t- I don’t understand.” He said as you dropped the coat across the back of a nearby chair. “This is what I didn’t want to tell you Steven,” you sad as you ran your hand through his hair and downwards until your hand was pressed against his check where he could feel every individual callouses, “I’m afraid of how you’d react if I told you but I’ve kept it too long and now I don’t know if I should in fear of loosing you.”

Steven saw feel conflict radiating off of you and brought his hand against your own yet his eyes can’t seem to look away from the faces embedded into your black and silver robes. They spoke of many words and yet none of which he could catch to make coherent sense of even if he tried. Yet he would always try for you. “Hey, look at me,” your eyes met his own where finally he could bring himself to look away from your haunting robes, “you could never loose me. After you left I tried looking for you but never could find any traces of you left for me to pick up on and even long after I’ve seen to lost all hope I never gave up wishing for your safe return or that where ever you were that you would be safe from harm.” His voice trailed off as his other hand traces the scars that littered your face, watching carefully and you flinched are some yet not at others indicating that some were fresh while others have been there for a while. “Now tell me what happened.”

You blinked back tears as you began opening your mouth to speak your truth when a painful sensation within your head refrained you from doing such but thankfully you managed to fought through it, having been suffering from them too long for your liking. “Steven I’m, I’m-“ unfortunately the strength and will power that lead you to his door have left you drained beyond belief and had your body aching for a rest that you hadn’t noticed that you had fell into a state of unconsciousness until you found yourself prepped up in a bed that must’ve been Steven’s considering the ankle restraint. “Steven?” You called out only to see him sat on a chair next to the bed looking at you worriedly.

“Y/n, what are you?” He asked but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer the question either because even you didn’t know who you were outside the possession that all you could do was stare at Steven as your eyes became like that of obsidian, as a pure black teardrop leaked from your eye and trailing down your cheek, leaving a streak behind it as it dropped from your chin and against the back of your hand where it crystallised. “I don’t know but I need your help Steven. They’re coming and I can’t stop them.” Your voice cracked as more black tears fell from your eyes and crystallised on your hands that Steven had never acted so fast in pulling you into his arms and brushing a hand against the back of your neck as he tried to calm you down from an inevitable panic. “Who’s coming darling, your obviously distraught about it.” It broke Steven’s heart to see you this scared so all he could do was hold you tightly until you decided it was time to speak. You’ve been separated once but never again would Steven let that happen, so he’d rather the thing come for you both because Steven wasn’t letting you go so easily this time. Not a chance in hell would that reality come to haunt him once more.

Tagged: @bibli0thecary

#moon knight imagine #moon knight imagines #moon knight x reader #moonknight x you #moonknight x reader #moonknight imagine #moonknight imagines #steven grant x you #steven grant imagine #steven grant imagines #marc spector imagines #marc spector x reader #Marc Spector imagine #tw: negative self talk #tw: mentions of self harm #tw: depression

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