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mokulule · 1 year

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The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 1

So figured I could show what else I am working on aside from Salt in the Bones with @clockwayswrites. I still blame Clock for this though, they are way too fun to brainstorm with, and I have too many WIPs already. Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

Danny was sick and tired of this city, this entire dimension in fact. And this vigilante family, or whatever they were, were more dogged in their pursuit of him than the GIW or his parents had ever been - all this for a few gizmos.

Danny rolled his eyes and ducked a kick from the most violent midget since Youngblood.

Seriously he was just trying to build a portal home, and it wasn’t like he was hurting anyone. He’d mostly stolen from villains anyway! And Wayne industries was like a multibillion dollar company, they shouldn’t miss a few scraps or prototypes. It would hardly put a dent in their budget.

Midget was back on his feet and had now drawn a freaking sword. Yeah, this was it, Danny needed to leave before bigger and battier arrived. He faked left but then spun right around the probably actual literal kid with the real sword, jumped to the railing and kicked off towards the next rooftop. Ignoring gravity’s pull for a just a couple of seconds was the only reason he landed safely on the other roof.

He felt a moment of worry that the kid would try following him and glanced back, but the child was fuming in safety on the other side, having lost that grappling gun thing he used earlier in the chase, it seemed Danny was safe for now. The kids mouth was moving, probably talking to more of the heroes.

He wasn’t gonna be safe for long, but Danny allowed himself a moment to breathe in relief. Suddenly his breath stuck coldly in his throat and he froze. Impossible! The shades of this city barely tickled his throat, he hadn’t met anything that would even halfway classify as a ghost to his senses. Urgency was like a cold hand around his throat, a desperate longing hummed in his core as he slowly spun trying to get a sense of where - he only managed to see a blur of red before a heavy weight knocked into him slamming him to the ground. The cold mist in his throat was pushed out in a pained oof, and his head bounced first on one thing then another, but that didn’t matter because his core was singing; close, not alone, hug!

Danny’s head spun, his whole body felt pained and smushed. A man, no a freaking tank, was laying on top of him. Body armor dug into his ribs, probably something there was bent or broken and he felt certain that ominous red helmet had left a mark where it hit his forehead. Also his hair felt a bit wet beneath him. Yet that didn’t matter because he was so overwhelmed, warm with hands and feet tingling from the humming joy in his chest. Hug! His core sang again.

Somewhere in the fog in his head he recognized this was no hug, but he hurt, his head was spinning, and he was not alone and he was happy and wasn’t that more important than a bit of pain? Oo o oO

Jason was unsure what was going on.

He’d managed to tackle the elusive thief Dick had so “creatively” nicknamed the Ghost for his ability to go invisible and the inability for them to land a decent hit on him. In fact if he hadn’t seen footage from previous run-ins with the man, Jason would have thought they wildly exaggerated his skills.

After all the man had frozen up strangely when Jason pulled himself onto the rooftop as he listened only with half an ear to the demon brat angrily grumbling in the comms, that he would have had him had he not been a coward who ran away all the time. Their thief was slowly turning around as if looking for something, the green glass of his goggles reflected in the moonlight and for a moment gave the illusion they were glowing.

Jason had not wasted a moment, got to his feet, crossed the distance in a mere three large steps before he crashed into the man - so, he’d halfway expected the man to move and therefore hadn’t prepared to soften another person’s landing. His helmet hit the shorter man’s forehead and his head rebounded and hit the roof with a sound that made Jason internally wince. The next moment there was a snapping sound and a gasp as the man’s ribcage was caught between the roof and Jason - he really wore no armor, just that thin hoodie. No matter what B said about the danger of the stolen items, Jason was really starting to doubt they had a budding super villain on hand.

He immediately made a move to get up, but stopped, a strange feeling of something overtaking him. It took a moment for him to discern because of the dichotomy, but it was… happiness? What the fuck, it wasn’t his emotions, that made no sense. The pits had only ever sent him rage and in rare moments gruesome satisfaction. This was joy, he felt almost like he was floating caught in a wave at the beach, weightless, happy, warm in the sun. He shook his head pushing the foreign emotions away like he would the pit and focused on his dazed perp.

There was something wet glistening in his unruly black hair.

“Fuck,” Jason muttered, thankfully too low for the helmet to project, but loud enough that he got a breathless but insistent “report” back from Bruce where he was clearly hurrying toward their destination.

“I knocked the Ghost down, he’s bleeding from a head wound,” he muttered at his comms as he pulled the goggles up to get a look his eyes to check for signs of concussion, but immediately froze. The goggles, he’d thought it was a trick of the light earlier, but no, his eyes were glowing - bright and green and just a shade lighter than the Lazarus pits. A shudder ran cold down his back. Somehow the foreign emotions were coming from him, Jason was sure of it, but it explained absolutely nothing! Unrestrained joy? Was this some kind of shock response?

More footsteps landed on the roof and Jason didn’t need to look to know it was Bruce with the Brat along for the ride. He finally remembered he’d been trying to get off the other man at some point.

Oo o oO

No, no, no, Danny’s core protested when the other ghost moved away, and he clutched onto what he could grab, which he dazedly recognized as a very nicely muscled arm. The other arm, because human shaped ghosts have two arms (good job Danny), supported Danny by holding onto one of his arms and that was good. Getting upright gave him the worst moment of vertigo, and his breath whooshed out of him. His legs were like jello and didn’t support him, but that didn’t matter, because his new friend had a good firm grip, could probably even hold him up entirely without Danny clutching his arm, good friend, mine. He butted his head into his chest because that was what he could reach and just leaned there. His core hummed so happily he felt like he’d almost shake apart.

Friend.

Mine

Good friend

…

Why no response?…

Hello? Danny was confused, why wasn’t he getting a response. Also why did his head and chest hurt so bad?

“Tt, what is the matter with him?”

The question, delivered in a haughty voice was like a bucket of ice water on his senses. He gasped and pushed away from where he’d been nuzzling some guy’s chest! Alarmed, he stumbled, but dodged the hands reaching for him, to support him, to catch him, he wasn’t sure. There was the big bat and the midget and the tank in the red helmet; the guy who felt like a ghost and he just wanted nothing more than to go back to him, and- Danny shuddered taking another step back, his face was hot and flaming red right now. This was, this was- he couldn’t-

Hiding his powers be damned; he sunk through the roof.

So embarrassing! He closed his eyes fighting tears as he sank down down down, all the way into the ground where they for sure couldn’t follow him. All the while his insides screamed, because he didn’t want to be lonely anymore. Fuck, he just wanted to go home.

He was so sick and tired of this city.

So... yeah hope you enjoyed this, now I can reveal why I blame Clock, they said and I quote "Danny, like a cat with catnip suddenly" and now Danny is a cat, what can you do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Jason's gonna have to lure this feral ghost in slowly with food and hugs.

edited with link to the next part:next Masterpost where you can subscribe: link

#dead on main #dp x dc #Jason is catnip to Danny #Missed connections #cause that's a shorter tag for this story than the title #long title is long but it makes sense #because danny is in a another dimension and missing his friends and family back home #angst #cw depression

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gremlingirlsmell · 1 year

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#bocchi the rock #bocchi #meme #anime #manga #ibuprofen #zoloft #cw depression #cw anxiety #bocchiposting #bocchisweep #gotoh hitori #bocchi meme #shitpost #1k

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candy-colored-misery · 7 months

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"my soul aches for something better than this."

2023 journal entry, from me.

#cas's thoughts #candy colored misery #venting #cw depression #cw depressive thoughts #depressing quotes #mentally tired #actually mentally ill #tw sui implied #vent tag #vent post

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samishin · 10 months

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◀️Prev | <Part 2> | Next▶️

🔹Taglist🔹

@rurousha ✨

#dbh #hankcon #detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh connor #dbh hank anderson #rk800 #connor rk800 #connor #dbh hank #hank #hank anderson #mermaid au #mermay #dbh mermaid au #my art #dbh comic #cw depression

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risustravelogue · 6 months

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In the psychiatrist's waiting room and thinking about Wriothesley finally finding out what your regular visits to the surface is all about.

cw. mental health issues, specifically bipolar II disorder. contains heavy lore of my s/i (f!reader, she/her pronouns used).

You've told Wriothesley during your job interview that you'd require once-a-month visits to the surface if he were to employ you. He agreed without prying further, much to your relief.

Sigewinne had known from the start, of course—it's her duty to know everything about the people in her care, after all. Yet, she passed your files over to the Duke anyway, because she knew he'd grant you, the most excellent apprentice of Estelle's, this small relief. The only thing she told him was "she needs to maintain her health, but it's out of the scope of my knowledge of human well-being."

He'd lie if he said he wasn't curious about Sigewinne's words, but his need of a mechanic to maintain and improve his gauntlets was greater. And so he stayed out of the issue... until he decides to confess his attraction for you.

He doesn't even try persuading Sigewinne to tell him about your issues, knowing how strict she is with doctor-patient confidentiality. So after a few private investigations, he decides to go straight to the source.

That afternoon, he welcomes you to his office. He sits on his desk with the sound of soft piano—your favorite piece—flowing from his gramophone.

"I need to talk about your monthly visits to the surface," he says, and your gaze goes downward to your shifting feet, your fingers fidgeting behind your back.

Sensing your nervous energy, he smiles and says, "Relax. I'm not going to fire you or anything like that. A small issue like this won't affect what I think about you."

You chuckle derisively. "That's what they all say before rejecting my job application," you say. "And it's not exactly a 'small' issue. It affects everything you know about me."

"Try me," he says, sipping his tea. "Please."

"... I guess you're going to find out sooner or later..." you mumble. You inhale and exhale, your breath trembling in fear of being rejected by him.

"I have... depression. Specifically, bipolar two disorder. That's why I seem more irritable some days and like I've lost interest in everything on others," you blurt out. "I've been on both medication and counseling, so it doesn't stand out too much anymore, but it still gets in the way of my work sometimes. That's why I need to visit my doctor on the surface once a month. Believe me when I said this is not the worst I've been—"

You stop speaking when you realize that your boss is staring at you in sympathy.

"I—I'm sorry. For rambling," you mutter.

"No, no," he says with a sigh. "If anything, I'm sorry for not asking sooner."

"Sure... well. Are you still not going to fire me?" you ask bluntly.

Wriothesley's eyes soften.

"No. Why would I? I love you."

"... What?"

"I love you," he repeats as he steps closer to you. Your heart beats loud and fast from the adrenaline, thoughts racing through your head: screw this, screw everything, if I'm going to lose him, might as well be now—

"I... I don't... My ex dumped me when I told him this," you ramble, tears welling up in your eyes. "You– you're sure? You don't... see me as someone problematic? You don't... hate me?"

His fingers rest on your chin as he lifts your face. You instinctively gasp and close your eyes at his touch, only to feel his soft, warm lips meeting yours in a chaste kiss.

"I'm glad you're able to be honest with me," he says against your lips. His breath smells like the tea he just sipped, and somehow it's so intoxicating this way—

"I love you," he says again, his icy blue eyes now gazing softly into yours. "And I don't mind being a place for you to rest, your home in this foreign country. Will you allow me to be such?"

"Y– you would?" you stutter, the good kind of disbelief flooding your chest with warmth. "I... would love for you to be my home," you say with a grin. "I love you, too."

"Good," he breathes, his arms pulling your body flush against his. You feel your worries melt away as he kisses you in his embrace.

"Very good... my love."

#astronetwrk #wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #cw depression #cw bipolar #kurisu's thoughts #kurisu writes #wrisu #uhuh yep another waiting room thought hehe

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coffeebanana · 3 months

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It felt eerily familiar, kneeling ghost-like beneath a vermillion sky. Doom crept though Antichat's chest, as thick as the acrid smoke scorching his lungs. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. There was a weight in his arms—an inexplicable solace. And yet… Suddenly it didn’t weigh as much as it should. No. His eyes flicked downwards. No, no, no, no— All he held was a pile of ashes, moulded into the shape of a girl.

Some nightmares refuse to fade.

***

[Read the full fic below the cut or on Ao3!! CW: panic attacks, dissociation, depression]

Please, no.

Chat squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to rid himself of a sudden, blinding panic pounding through his skull. But it was too late. Ladybug’s slate-stained image was seared into his mind, her face frozen in pain, devoid of everything that had once painted comfort across his soul.

Her mask was half-torn, such that Marinette's bare cheek was cradled closest to his chest. Like maybe he'd tried in vain to protect her from the blast.

From his own destruction.

A choked sound ripped itself from his throat, a painful lump following in its wake. He had no way to fix this, nothing to do but pull her in closer. To tighten his arms around her precious, fragile remains.

Another mistake.

She crumbled in his grip; ashes floated up like a mosaic, blinding his vision. Frantically, he pawed at the air—trying to gather her fragments, to force her back together. If he caught enough, perhaps he could papier-mâché her likeness. He could use his tears as glue.

But there was no time for that before a fiery breeze tore through the street. Marinette’s remains were swept away, and only Chat’s strangled cries could follow.

The further away they fled, the more he came undone. There was nothing left to tie his mind together, to keep his pain from exploding like a supernova.

Nothing to keep the world from collapsing in on him.

“What did you expect?” Nightormentor’s voice sliced through the smoke. “You’ve always been poison to the ones you loved most.”

NO!

With a frigid gasp—one that curdled his tar-slicked insides—Adrien awoke. Once again, there was a darling weight in his arms. Only this Marinette was warm and solid. Her limbs were tangled in the blankets she'd pulled to her side of his bed, and one of her hands curled slightly into his T-shirt as her breath tickled the fabric.

She was alive.

Adrien just wasn't sure his heart still knew how to beat.

He was too hot and too cold all at once, both drenched in sweat and trembling. His chest felt like someone had trampled it, and every attempt to breathe sliced further into the wound.

When he closed his eyes, the world was still on fire.

Stomach lurching, he carefully rolled Marinette’s weight off his chest. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t listen to the even sounds of her breath without hearing echoes of his own sobs slip between them.

The room spun around him as he stumbled to the bathroom; the world still appeared as though through smoke—muted and unreliable, the air too thick to breathe. He collapsed to his knees in front of the toilet, his empty stomach convulsing, only to realize the sickness inside him wasn’t the kind he could expel.

He remained there, braced against the toilet seat, until his limbs eased their shaking enough for him to crawl away. Even so, he barely made it to the wall beside the sink before one of his arms gave out, and his cheek slammed a little too hard into the handle of one of the cupboards he twisted into a seated position. Hissing in pain, he let his face press against the wood there, shuddering at the way the cold surface shocked some life inside of him.

Time ceased to make sense after that. One moment, his chest was burning, pain reverberating through his back as he struggled to fill his lungs. The next, it seemed he’d become a giant cloud. A numb expanse of icy droplets, ready to fall at a moment’s notice.

Light gradually awakened the room, a subtle warmth flickering near the edge of his awareness. He only fully realized the day had come when, somewhere beyond the door he’d left ajar, the bed creaked.

“Adrien?” Marinette called. Her voice was gentle, but pierced through him all the same. “Everything okay?”

No.

Panic set in anew as footsteps approached. He swore he could somehow taste the blood pounding in his ears, and he clamped his mouth shut to keep from crying out. To keep from breathing, even.

He didn’t want to be found. Maybe, if he held his breath until his lungs screamed again, he’d remain concealed in his lifeless fog.

But ironically, it was harder to keep from breathing when that was his actual goal. He sucked in sharp breaths, timed to his heartbeats, and hid his face in his hands.

“Oh, Chaton...” Marinette’s slippers scraped across the bathroom tiles, coming to a stop within his sight. Too close. “Did it happen again?”

He managed a nod, bottom lip quivering as he bit back a sob.

A long exhale piqued his attention; it started as a noise from above and ended as a warm breath against his cheek. Kneeling at his side, Marinette rubbed her hands against her thighs.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

Adrien shifted his jaw from side to side, guilt hooking its talons into his gut. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

It wasn’t a lie; he felt plenty bad about inadvertently dragging her here every night. She deserved the comfort of her own bed, regardless of whether he could actually get any sleep without her. So the least he could do was actually let her get enough rest.

But it wasn’t the truth, either.

And as she took his hand, carefully smoothing his fingers over hers, he had a feeling she knew it.

“Adrien…” She tugged his arm upwards, pressing a kiss to his fingertips. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

Biting his lip to keep from disagreeing, Adrien squeezed his eyes shut. With one less sense at his disposal, he was all too aware of the way she lifted his hand further, unfolding his fingers to press against her cheek.

“See?” she whispered, breath tickling the inside of his wrist. Her head twisted to the side, lips planting a kiss on the heel of his palm. “Everything’s fine.”

He swore he could feel the remnants of destruction prickling against her cheek. It took everything he had not to jerk his hand away.

Nothing was fine.

No matter how he’d come into this world, and no matter how much he despised the fact, Adrien would always be—in some way or another—his father’s son. Sometimes he swore he saw a glimpse of the man when he turned too fast in the mirror. Other times, a flash of fury would seize him; with a sickening sense of satisfaction, he’d know what it might felt like to be a villain.

Even worse, he was his mother’s son. His very existence had killed her.

He’d killed both his parents, in the end.

So no matter how much Marinette tried to console him, Adrien knew the voice of his nightmares had a point. He was a danger to her, to himself, to the world.

It might not even end up being his choice. All it would take was someone finding out what he was, and stealing the two rings he still couldn’t stand the sight of.

He was, at most, a liability. And Marinette deserved more than that.

She never agreed with him on that point.

“Look at me,” she said now. An edge crept into her voice, one that shocked him into listening.

His heart jumped at the blue of her eyes—filled with all the warmth that the fiery world of his nightmares had failed to hold.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking.

“No, no, no. I don’t want you to be sorry. I just…” Tears filled her eyes. “I love you, okay?”

Adrien couldn’t say it back. He couldn’t find enough truth to shove into the sentiment—not when that was all buried beneath his own misery. It was like he’d returned to his nightmare, with smoke charring his throat and one all-consuming fear.

Just the tiniest wrong movement could ruin everything.

But if he didn’t give some kind of response, Marinette would only worry. So he tugged on her hand—maybe a little too hard considering her yelp of surprise—and guided her to sit between his legs. She moved readily into place, and Adrien forced himself to ignore the fear spiking through his veins, hugging her back to his chest.

Once settled, she twisted around and tried to crane her neck upwards, reaching a hand half-blindly up to his cheek. Heart squeezing in his chest, he tightened his grip around and pressed a kiss to her head.

She remained tense for a moment too long, but finally sighed and melted back against his chest. Her hand trailed lazily back down to her side, and her breath spilled into a hum of contentment. With her gaze fixed firmly ahead, Adrien could finally breathe again.

He didn’t want her to see the few tears he’d finally let slip down his cheeks—even if she’d no doubt hear his sniffles or feel the way the cries rumbled in his chest. And he didn't want her to examine him to deeply, to discover what he already knew.

One day, he would surely disappoint her.

#coffebanana fics #miraculous ladybug #lovesquare #post-reveal #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #antichat #nightormentor #post-s5 #angst #bittersweet ending #cw panic attack #cw dissociation #cw depression

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top-egg-1337 · 4 months

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just wanted to throw my hat in with everyone else immeasurably pissed off about the Gale section of That Interview.

Yes this is all projection, no I don't fucking care. CW for suicidal ideation etc etc

Gale killing himself is not the "right ending". Not only is it ridiculous to suggest that such a concept exists for a game with as many permutations as BG3, it's also blatantly affirming that suicide is A Good Choice, Actually, for people with disabilities (including neurodivergence and mental illnesses).

Like Gale, I talk way too much about the things I'm passionate about to the point where people find me annoying. Like Gale, I fumble social interactions a lot. Like Gale, I have never had many friends. Like Gale, if I fall for someone, it happens fast and I'm super awkward about it until I feel secure with them. Like Gale, I have made mistakes that felt catastrophic. Like Gale, my continued survival relies on assistance from others and this makes me feel like a burden. Like Gale, I have spent extended periods of my life thinking I was better off dead.

If any of these ring true for you, first of all...

Fuck, lads(gender neutral), we're really playing through life on honour mode huh? it couldn't be fucking easy...

Secondly, asking for help, and being vulnerable enough to accept that help, is a bigger show of strength than Minsc climbing out of a mimic.

Thirdly, you really, truly, are not better off dead. If you read that and think I'm lying to make you feel better, I get it. I've felt that way countless times. But there are countless moments for your life to improve, and those moments die the moment you do.

I didn't think I'd make it to 20. I'm 27 now. I'm married, and we're in the process of buying a house. We have a delightfully grumpy dog who we recued 4 years ago. He's 14 now.

It's still hard. This year felt impossible at times. I thought I'd finally got my life on track after starting ADHD meds, started my first ever full-time job, and had to quit after 3 months - 2 of those months being on sick leave.

I felt mortified. Everything I'd worked for crumbled, what even was the point in trying to improve myself if I couldn't trust my body or mind to keep their shit together when it mattered most?

But here I am. And weirdly, I'm maybe the happiest I've ever been, despite being in the middle of months of medical investigations where cancer is a real possibility.

I often felt like it was my destiny to kill myself.

Fuck destiny.

As Elminster said:

Be a moon unto yourself. Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will.

#cw sui #cw depression #cw sui ideation #cw ableism #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 spoilers #yeah im projecting so what

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cheatsykoopa98 · 3 months

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I gotta be thankful for having my very own "ragatha" irl, idk what I'd do without my gf. it sucks feeling like you're the sources of everyone's problems, but having a little bit of color shine through makes me feel a little better

commissions, donations, you know the deal, please help if you can

#ck98art #vent #tadc #depression #cw depression #tw mental health #the amazing digital circus #pomni #ragatha #ragapom #buttonblossom #pomni x ragatha #jesterdoll #ragatha x pomni #digital yuri #pomni kin

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midnight-moth · 8 months

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Need some fluffy RainDrop maybe with Phantom? Of them just needing to cuddle and sleep after a few rough shows in a row like they've been doing. Maybe Phantoms absolutely exhausted and really craving affection and cuddled but doesn't think he's allowed to join in with any of the pack (especially Rain and Dew) but they bring him in for cuddles and give him all the affection he needs (they all need tbh, especially Rain after that video you posted earlier) <3

Sometimes it’s better not to ask. What’s wrong? What do you need? How can I help? Those questions are better suited to someone who might be able to answer them. And maybe he could, with time and perspective. Maybe not.

Phantom doesn’t know what’s wrong after all. It was all so much fun. A loud disarray of sound and light and applause. Which he enjoyed. So why does he feel like a pumpkin left on the steps after Halloween? All the guts scraped out but for a short while you were filled with warmth, a soft glow that lit up everyone around you.

But now he feels hollow, discarded. He’s fingers drift across one of the plush bats tossed to him on stage. It has a red ribbon tied around its neck. He’s so happy everyone knows how much he loves bats. He isn’t sure how they knew. But he doesn’t know them, what they love, he can’t give them anything back. Just a few hours of his time, a piece of paper with song names on it, a small triangular piece of plastic.

And he realizes that no, they don’t know him at all. Not really. But that isn’t what really gets to him, makes him toss and turn at night, leaves him staring at the ceiling all night. Listening to the muffled sounds of sleep, or the occasional moan or hiss disrupts the near silence.

It’s that he’s surrounded by the same ghouls day in, day out, and they must understand how he feels. And he can see how they all lean harder and harder on one another, ritual after ritual after ritual.

But he doesn’t know that he’s supposed to assume. That he’s allowed to lean too. Rest his weary head on Mountain’s shoulder. Ask for Dew’s burning fingers to dig into his sore muscles. Let Swiss absolutely smother him in a never-ending bear hug. Dissolve into the tattered sofa while Aurora rakes her claws across his scalp. Just be close, let them dry his eyes, a respite for his tear-stained pillowcase.

And the others, they don’t realize that they should offer. Aurora, the self proclaimed pack princess, from day 0 she had no issue asking any of them to piggy back her 4’10” frame when her feet hurt, to wrap their bodies around her like blankets at night when she was cold.

He wonders how loneliness can simultaneously feel like a gaping void, and yet have such presence. Taking up so much room in his body, when he wraps his arms around his ribs and squeezes he can feel it butting up against his insides. He wonders how there’s any room left for his heart and his lungs but they keep beating and inflating anyway.

Perhaps there was something written on his face that day, those particular lines carving a new expression on his face that they’d never seen before. Perhaps that energy they felt when he was summoned, the kind that they were sure caused the ground to shake, felt dull.

Rain noticed first, and Dew merely had to follow his line of sight throughout the day to see for himself. The way Phantom’s body sagged when he wasn’t on stage anymore. That he was barely lifting his feet off the ground as he moved about the venue.

The thud his body made when he collapsed into his bunk that night was like the exclamation at the end of the thought Rain and Dew had both been finding words for that day.

A long run on sentence that contained why didn’t we notice sooner and why didn’t he say anything and have we made him feel unwelcome, unwanted? That last thought, it had teeth, and they dug right into the most tender scar Dew possessed.

At first Phantom thought the depressions in the mattress around him were an illusion. He jumped when fingers connected with his shoulder, nearly smacking his head against the low ceiling.

But soon hands we’re guiding him back down, arms worming their way underneath his ribs and wrapping him up back to front. Rain’s cool hand soothing the ache in his head. Dew’s body heat softening the rigid form his contracted muscles forced him in to.

He tries to speak but the only thing that comes out is a ragged little croak. So Rain presses a kiss to his lips to silence him. It says tell us later, rest now.

“Sorry we made you wait so long, bug.” Dew murmurs in his ear. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard that gentle lilt in his voice before. “But we’re here now. All of us are here, for you.”

#media nocte asks #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #phantom ghoul #I hope this is okay #I am trying to just not care if it isn’t the best because it’s all I can do #and maybe I can still enjoy it even if I know I can do better #because maybe this is just how it is now #midnight moth writes #cw depression #cw hurt comfort

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brionbroadway · 5 months

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oh ok, brennan just dropped a simple, but incredibly poignant quote about the small hope of breaking out of depression and suicidal ideation, oh ok we are sobbing

#he cant keep doing this!!!!#d20 #dimension 20 #burrow's end spoilers #burrow's end #brennan lee mulligan #cw depression #cw suicide

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youraverageventblog · 7 months

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Theres nothing more disturbing than being self aware while you have severe mental illness. Like I’ll be breaking down, bleeding out, about to off myself and then remember that normal people don’t do this shit and any sane person would go to the damn hospital.

#bpd #tw depressing thoughts #tw vent #vent blog #bpd vent #actually bpd #cw depression #self h@rm #self mutalition #s3lf mutilation #self h@te #self mutilator #body mutilation #tw mutilation #mentally unstable #mentally fucked #vent

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mokulule · 1 year

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The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 2

Part 1

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

Jason stared. He stared at the spot where the Ghost had literally sunk through the roof - and would Dick just be unbearable when he heard that, how the name he’d given their thief was even more fitting, but this was just the sort of stray thought a person had because their head was filled with other things that they couldn’t as easily understand.

Absently he registered the demon brat scolding him haughtily for letting the villain get away and how he would never have allowed such a thing had he been the one to capture him, tt.

Jason didn’t pay it any mind, knew Damian was just as confounded by the Ghost getting away like a literal ghost, as he was. The Batclan had been hunting this guy for weeks and for all that time, he’d only shown invisibility as a power, something that was easily countered by the thermal filters in their masks.

Absently he touched his chest, where just a moment ago, the guy had snuggled up to him, and… and purred?! It was the only word he had for it. How else could he explain that humming sound at the edge of his hearing. Guy had been so overwhelmingly happy, and for a moment Jason had been shrouded in those feelings again. There’d been something like a questioning tilt to the humming, but Jason didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know why the guy had been so loopy. Had followed him up desperately like a man drowning, headbutted himself into his chest and snuggled up, so happy.

And then the spell had broken, as suddenly as it had appeared.

The guy, deeply embarrassed, had sunk into the rooftop, but that was not what Jason had noticed. It was not what had his mind chasing its own tail. No, it was the way that call, those foreign feelings, cried out in sorrow and such soul crushing loneliness as he disappeared. Jason felt hollowed out from the whiplash.

Bruce stood up from where he was crouched by the spot Jason had initially tackled the ghost, instantly commanding attention in the way only Batman could.

“Hood, debrief back at the cave.”

It was testament to how out of it Jason was that he just nodded with a quiet yeah. A large black gloved hand set down on his shoulder squeezing for a moment. Jay looked up and met the white-out lenses of the cowl. He shrugged off the worry and stepped back defensively, “I’m fine.”

Bruce watched him for a moment before nodding and moving across the roof, Robin at his heels. He jumped down but Robin paused and looked back and now Jay was even worrying the brat. He sighed and waved him on, he really had to get his head back on straight.

Anger come on, he could always count on that, he was always some level of angry, the pits made sure of it, he had it under control but that didn’t make it gone. He waited for that familiar angry bubble in his chest… nothing. Bruce! Bruce patronizing him, replacing him… nothing! Just sadness, longing to belong again - his shoulder burned where Bruce had touched him to make sure he was okay - he shook his head, this wasn’t working. Leaving the Joker alive! That was better but, there was only the most sluggish bubble at that like a sleeping dragon huffing at him as it turned over to continue sleeping.

Jason walked backwards until he hit the ledge. He had his helmet off and in his hands before he knew it. He needed to breathe. Heavily, he sank to the ledge, his gloves creaked as he clutched the helmet.

The pits were quiet, for the first time since he came back to life he was alone in his head. Fear clutched his heart, because what was he supposed to do with that?

Answers, he needed answers. One step at a time, he berated himself, taking slow breaths. To get answers he needed to find the Ghost. To find the Ghost he needed intel, intel the others had. The Ghost hadn’t operated anywhere in Crime Alley and hadn’t been Jason’s problem, until tonight when the chase had gotten near enough to his territory that he’d bothered to come back-up the brat instead of just mocking the rest of the clan’s inability to catch a simple thief. There wasn’t anything simple about Ghost, he thought, remembering those piercing glowing green eyes. He had to have something to do with the Lazarus pits it was the only thing that made sense. And he realized, he’d deliberately been hiding the extent of his powers. They’d been trying to catch him for weeks and he’d never phase shifted before.

His thoughts were going in circles again. It was no use staying here. Time to go to the cave and see what the others had - he stood up and braced himself for the whisper: the ever present distrusting voice berating him for being a fool for following Bruce’s orders, for letting himself be drawn back into the fold. He had all his arguments ready to convince himself that he was going for his own sake.

Silence. There was no whisper.

He shuddered, deeply unsettled and pulled his helmet back on. The faster he figured this out the better.

Oo o oO

Danny entered his temporary haunt, a long abandoned subway rail yard, dragging his feet after him, and sank down in front of the still mostly bare frame of the portal in the central open space. He rested his head on the cool metal. It hurt to breathe, particularly slumped like this, but he didn’t have the energy to move.

Slowly he rubbed a hand across his face, gingerly touching the bump on his forehead. He couldn’t believe he was so starved for company that he had somehow interpreted getting bowled over as a hug, and yet the ghost of the touch still lingered. His core ached in outrage over loosing that closeness. Well, his core was stupid anyway - he was stupid.

He’d dropped the spectral calibrator too, this entire evening was a waste. It had only left him hollow and hurting, and no closer to getting home.

Slowly his eyes, tracked over to his worn blue backpack all of six feet away from him, where his dwindling supply of dry granola bars was. He wouldn’t have much choice but to go out again soon. At least nicking food usually didn’t get him the attention of the local “heroes”. He’d had enough of those for a while.

He should eat something now. But it was too far too reach and he didn’t feel like moving.

The ambient ectoplasm of this city really wasn’t enough to keep him running at full strength and he knew, in theory that he should make up for it by eating more.

It was the pro of being a halfa that he could transform food into energy for both his forms, the con was that he was terrible at being a halfa and he just wasn’t hungry. Just tired, always tired.

He longed for home, for Jazz and Sam and Tucker - heck he would take Valerie hunting him down in another dimension to shoot at him over this. He felt himself fraying at the edges and now apparently because he had no one, he’d latched on to the first random person who felt like a ghost, like some kind of weirdo. The man probably wasn’t even a ghost, he hadn’t responded at all like one. He doesn’t know how he could have been so fooled.

He let his head rest on his knees, closing his eyes. The ghost of a warm body surrounding him taunted him. He gasped down a sob, then gasped again because that hurt like a kick to his ribs. He pressed his eyes shut around pained tears. His ribs were definitely broken. At least the pain brought him back to the present. He breathed shallowly, considered just stopping, but he had lungs in his body and there was something about how it was best to use them so he didn’t get pneumonia. They’d been through that debacle once before. Besides usually breathing was nice.

Before all this falling into a portal to a crappy dimension he would have healed by now. Another point in the should-eat-more column.

A small squeaky noise drew his attention back to his bag. Just as he blinked to clear his blurry eyes a rat exited his bag with a granola bar and sprinted across the floor into the shadows.

Danny sighed - and now he had rats.

Yeah, so these snippets aren't going to be overly long, because it's going to be faster updating this way, but once I'm more into the story I will probably compile them more before starting to post to Ao3.

Edited with link to next part: next Masterpost where you can subscribe: link

#dead on main #dp x dc #Missed connections #angst #cw depression #Danny is not doing so good #Jason is very confused #Jason is catnip to Danny

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