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rotin0 · 1 year ago

Note

Not me eating up this fanfic bc the idea of dungeon meshi isekai fanfics makes me giggled in joy

Hi! May I please request some angst?

Marcille,Falin, and Laios (separate) with an isekai'd terminally ill s/o who needs to go back to their world in order to get treatment, since their disease is incredibly advanced, by their standards, and not easy for magic to handle.

However, the three want to save their s/o, but at the same time doesn't want them to go back to their world.

Aye a somber request but one i can do. After All, The whole worlds a stage. For some it is a comedy, Others an adventure, and yet still for others it is a tragedy. But all must play there part one way or another.

When you first arrived marcille was in awe, Not only did another entire reality exist, but you had apparently somehow been teleported from there?! She had questioned you for hours about the world, about what it was like. Fascinated that it was a world of technology in a vaguely similar fashion to the dwarves machinery, yet even more advanced. How it was a world without monsters and only had regular animals. How it was a world inhabited only by People like you, Nothing but tallmen (though in reality you and the rest of the people from your world werent tallmen, they just happened to be the most similar to your people). But strangest of all it had no magic (or so you thought), The idea seemed foreign to her and she couldnt even imagine what it could possibly be like.

You two had grown closer and fallen in love and marcille viewed you as a gift from the divine...but like all divinity they are cruel and can change there whims in a split second. It started off with a small cough, neither of you were particularly worried about it, sicknesses come and go after all. But the cough over time slowly progressed and got worse and worse, it eveolved into a tightness in the chest and struggle breathing. you became unable to do most physical things as your condition worsened, Then the dry coughing grew worse when one day you coughed into your hand and when you pulled it away it was soaked in blood.

Marcille tried everything she could, she had asked falin to do everything she could, but sadly to no avail as the healer couldnt seem to slow this disease. She asked laios for help who spent a small fortune of his newly aquired kingdoms gold to try and find you the best healers in the world to no avail. Marcille was at her wits end, she couldnt see you die. She had seen so many people she loved and cared about die already, she couldnt loose you too. However one day you brought up an idea, one that broke her heart almost as much as the idea of your death did. "i think...the only ones who could help....me..are doctors from...my world.."

Marcille begged and pleaded, she didnt want to loose you that way either...but she knew deep down that there was no magic here that could help. The both of you knew that with the magic of this world, your death was certain and you needed to go back to be treated...but...but what if...what if marcille used magic not of this world.

That dark beckoning call came to her once more, its powerful embrace called out to her, it whispered gilded words that dripped a hopeful venom. It asked of her how far would she be willing to go to save the one she loved? If her true desire was to save you, she would do anything right?....right?

She had already used its power once, what harm would using it once more do? Maybe it could save you? maybe it could fix this disease and you and her could live happily ever after. Marcille had already called upon these dark ruinous powers before, it would be so simple to do it again? Who cares about the law, of morality, of the dangers this magic poses...Would marcille truly wield that eldritch power once more to save you? consequences be damned...right?

Your arrival was incredibly to falin, the idea of a whole new world of wonder, of things to see and do, a whole new world of beauty she had never seen before made her giddy. You and her would sit up for hours as you told her stories of your world, of just how different it was than her world, how the people were, how life was. And though there were many sad stories, Falin always found it comforting to know that so many good things happened in this other world to, that no matter how grim the world seemed. There would always be people being happy and living there lives and trying to make the world a better place, it made her smile. The two of you grew closer and eventually you confessed your feelings for her, however she giggled saying how she had planned on doing the same as well. The two of you getting together as you two travelled together after laios's ascension to be the new golden kingdoms king. However, Death once more made its presence known in the door of falins home, but instead of seeing her once more it decided to come calling the one person she hoped most it would never see for years.

The coughing was the first sign something was wrong, Falin was a gifted healer and so she used her magic to try and get rid of it...but it didnt work, no matter what she did that cough wouldnt go away, at most only disapearing for a day or so then coming right back. Its progression only getting worse and worse as she frantically tried to out heal the symptoms, each time she would try to heal you she would be in tears. messy tear drops falling down her cheeks as she would use her healing magic over and over and over till she herself would throw up from magic sickness.

By the time you had started coughing up blood you had to force falin to stop trying to heal you, you both knew it wasnt going to work and that she was just hurting herself and that broke your heart. the two of you laying together as you both sobbed at all of this..it wasnt fair, it wasnt right. How could something so awful happen to such an amazing and loving person....falin couldnt believe it could happen. Eventually you told her one night you had an idea. "Falin...i think the only way ill survive is if i go back to my world...and get help there."

It broke falins heart, because she knew deep down you were right...that the only hope you had was to go back to your world and get help there. Falin was quiet for awhile, her mind racing before she softly takes a hold of your hands. "Ok...if thats the case...IM GOING WITH YOU!"

She shouts confusing you, asking her if she is serious!? would she just leave this world behind? her nodding saying that your her world and wherever you go she wants to be right there with you. And besides, she cant loose you..

When you first showed up laios was excited about the possibility to learn about all new monsters in a whole new reality....however when you told him that monsters werent a thing he couldnt help but admit how your world seemed boring.

Despite that he adored you as the two of you grew closer and closer and eventually got together. You ruling the golden kingdom alongside him. The two of you ruling the kingdom together happily, Despite laios endless hunger and curse towards monsters he was happy. you help him deal with the stress of ruling the kingdom, But perhaps fate had one last curse in store for laios...or perhaps this was some aspect of the winged lions curse on him itself.

You started off with coughing, Laios noting it was likely a cold or something and asking falin or marcille to use healing magic to help..but it didnt work. You only continued to grow worse and laios grew more and more worried. He looked through his books about monsters trying to find something in them that might heal you. He had you drink multiple brothes, eat mixtures of vegetables and herbs, bath in some monster blood but nothing was helping. None of the medicinal properties of the various monster parts he would hire people to go get would work.

By the time you had started coughing up blood, laios had all but given up hope. Nothing was working, no matter what he did, no monster remedies could help, neither marcille or falins magic could help..and his own healing magic wasnt great. He would just sit by your bedside and cry into the sheets as he held you. Eventually though you spoke to him. "Laios...i think the only way ill live..is if i go back...the doctors of my world are more advanced...its the best chance i have."

It tore laios to pieces to hear this, he hated the idea of loosing you. he had almost lost his sister, and he was so afraid to loose you too. But he knew you were right, it was the best chance you had. He would join you if he could...but he couldnt, he had to rule over the golden kingdom. There was nobody else that could rule it in his place, He had to stay behind..and it ate him alive. He told you that he would always be yours, and that he would always think of you no matter what. And as long as you lived, thats all that mattered to him.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #YAYAYAYAYAYAY I LOVE THIS #ahaha eat this up ahaha #laios! 🫵#ok Roti u need to go to sleep now 🚶🏻‍♀️‍➡️

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thetomorrowshow · 3 months ago

Text

febuwhump 28 - recovery

title: follow the hopeful voice of that landing

fandom: hermitcraft

LARK AU!!! LARK IS HERE ONCE AGAIN

cw: discussion of past trauma

The fourth item on Joel’s long list of conditions was that no hybrids were permitted to come with him.

It would’ve been nice to have support from hybrids like Grian or Tango, but he isn’t going to take risks with this, no matter how safe everyone tells him it is. No hybrids, and at least three people need to be there, keeping an eye on him at all times.

He ends up with Lizzie (of course), Oli, and Bdubs. Bdubs had been a last minute fill-in for Scott, who had caught a cold the day before and needed to stay home to rest. Bdubs is a good replacement, though, because he’s remarkably good at distracting Joel.

“I’ve been to that restaurant!” Bdubs points excitedly, demonstrating just how good he is at pulling Joel’s attention. “They have a huge horse mural, and when I was there they seated me right under a beautiful palomino—”

“Okay, but what was the food like?” Oli asks, and Joel snickers.

“He doesn’t remember, he was too focused on the horses.”

“Hey! I remember—it was—”

“What, hay? Carrots?”

“No! It was a burger place, and it was good! You guys—I ordered an apple bacon burger and a milkshake, and it came with fries—”

Joel rolls his eyes, which quickly turns into scanning the street they’re walking down.

There’s a woman sitting on a bench on the other side of the street, idly watching them. Is it idle, though? Or is it subtle interest, waiting for them to drop their guard?

Lizzie squeezes his hand, and Joel glances at her. She’s watching him, worry creasing her forehead.

“We’re almost there,” she whispers. “Are you all right?”

He nods, not quite trusting his voice to work. He can't really offer her a smile, but she understands, squeezes his hand again.

“Joel? Joel, my beloved, handsome, best buddy boy Joel? Do you want to stop and grab food after?” Oli asks, lightly bumping shoulders with Joel. “It won’t take long, and we can go wherever you want! Maybe to Bdubs’s horse restaurant?”

“It’s a burger place!”

“I dunno,” Joel manages. His voice is barely a croak, but Oli and Bdubs kindly don’t mention it. “Depends.”

The panic always hits him so suddenly, stealing his breath quicker than a fall from a cliff. Was he really joking with his friends just moments ago? The bright sunshine feels weak now, the cool spots of shade more like creeping shadows.

Joel rubs his thumb across Lizzie’s knuckles. She’s right here. They all are.

Oli nods sagely. “Ah, yes. Depends on how you feel. That’s all right, if not today, maybe another time.”

How long has it been since Joel was even able to stomach the thought of going into a restaurant? Too long.

At Lizzie’s direction, the three of them turn down a street to their right, and Lizzie leads them up to the first building on the street. She walks right in, a little bell jingling over their heads.

Joel doesn’t much care for the lobby. The lighting is dim, the music playing is gentle piano, the seating available are a couple of cushy sofas and an armchair. There’s a low coffee table in the middle of the room, a handful of fidget toys scattered across it. Joel’s nose wrinkles as he takes a sniff—it isn’t overwhelming, but there must be an orange air freshener somewhere. He’s not a huge fan.

To their left is a desk, a receptionist sitting there. She smiles at them—and something in Joel’s chest eases just slightly as her teeth show, her canines more pointed than a typical human’s.

“Who are you here to see?”

“Dr. Barco?” Lizzie says. The receptionist checks her clipboard, then nods.

“Joel?”

Joel swallows. He waves slightly.

“All right, I’ll let him know that you’re here. You can take a seat anywhere—er, are you all. . . ?”

“We’re all with him,” Oli says cheerfully. He plops himself down on one of the sofas, and Bdubs sits a little more carefully in the armchair. Lizzie gently takes Joel’s upper arm (and the paperwork the receptionist hands her) and guides him over to the same sofa as Oli, sitting him down on the opposite end of the sofa and herself between the two of them. Then she passes him the paperwork and pen, and Joel settles in to start on it.

The first part is easy; without a problem, he fills in an entire page of personal information like his date of birth, marital status, and on what worlds he has residence. Simple enough. He can do this. However, the second page starts with a question that brings him to a stop.

In your own words, what brings you to therapy today?

Joel hesitates.

He glances around, watches Bdubs play with a little maze puzzle from the fidget toy collection. Oli reaches forward, tries to take it, but Bdubs smacks his hand away.

Eventually, he sets the pen back to the paper.

Spent around a year in hybrid trafficking, mostly in brothels.

There. That’s enough to pretty solidly explain all his issues.

The next question, How long has this been going on?, gives Joel pause again. It doesn’t quite apply to his situation, but he decides to answer it anyways.

Rescued around two years ago.

What do you hope to gain from counseling at this time?

Another hard question. He didn’t expect to be overwhelmed by just the paperwork. What does he want from this, exactly?

Want to stop zoning out. Stop freaking out. Feel safe.

Next is a long list of symptoms and boxes to mark which ones he experiences. Joel sighs slightly, but he sets to it.

After some deliberation, he ends up marking around half of the list—things like depression, dissociation, anxiety, panic attacks, the lot. It’s kind of embarrassing to look back on, but it’s in pen and he can’t erase it so he just grits his teeth and accepts that there’s a lot wrong with him.

Then there’s questions about his personal life—how he did in school growing up, what his family was like, et cetera. The next section has a question about whether or not he’s ever been abused—and if he has, what kind of abuse. Joel quickly marks all kinds of abuse without thinking too hard about it.

After that it asks him to list past experiences with therapy and medications. Joel just notes that he hasn’t had any of either, then he signs an agreement to receive treatment (despite the doubt growing in his mind).

That’s the last of the papers. Oli hops up as soon as Joel clips them all back onto the clipboard, taking it from him to return it to the receptionist.

“Sure it’s not too late to go home?” Joel jokes, lacing his fingers together to keep from fidgeting.

Lizzie rubs his knee comfortingly. “We can, if you want,” she says, but there’s a note of disappointment in her voice, no matter how hard she tries to cover it up.

So Joel squares his shoulders, and when the receptionist beckons for him to follow her to Dr. Barco’s office, he stands and leaves, trying not to let it show that he feels like he’s about to vomit.

For all he knows, she could be leading him to an awful fate. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.

But Joel’s a full-grown adult, and he doesn’t need someone to hold his hand to go everywhere. Besides, Lizzie and Oli and Bdubs are right there, and if he yelled they would certainly hear him.

Dr. Barco’s office is . . . nice, he supposes. It doesn’t have the classic red therapy sofa, but it does have a grey loveseat, where Joel sits on the edge of the cushion, trying not to disturb the multitude of pillows.

He doesn’t like it when there’s lots of pillows.

His and Lizzie’s bed used to have tons of pillows—they both like being comfortable, and Joel used to sleep with no less than four. Now, though, after too many mornings spent trying to remember where he was, they had brought the number of pillows down to three total (one for Joel, two for Lizzie).

There’s another scented thing in here somewhere, but it’s a bit more relaxing than the orange. It smells a bit like petrichor. That’s nice.

The doctor himself is already there, and he smiles at Joel, the rounded ears on the top of his head flicking a bit. He’s an ocelot hybrid, a couple of spots trailing up his neck. That definitely helps—but a hybrid therapist had also been on his list of conditions, so he isn’t surprised.

“Hi,” the man says, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Dr. Barco, but you can call me Marco. It’s nice to meet you—Joel, right?”

“Yeah,” Joel says, his throat suddenly all dry. He swallows. It doesn’t help.

“Cool! So, Joel—I looked a little bit at your papers, just a quick glance—have you ever been in therapy before?”

Joel shakes his head. “First time for you, too?” he jokes. Marco chuckles kindly.

“Right. Well, like I said, I skimmed your papers, but I’d like to hear it from you directly,” he says, and Joel’s stomach sinks.

He doesn’t want to have to detail every little thing that might have contributed to how utterly broken he is. He doesn’t want to have to put himself through that again.

Marco notices his hesitation, he thinks, because his smile softens. “It can be as surface level as you want,” he says encouragingly. “You wrote that you were in the hybrid trafficking system. Can you just give me a rundown of how you ended up there, what happened, and how you got out?”

“I don’t—I don’t really want to,” Joel says awkwardly. Before Marco can speak, he adds, “And I know that, like, the point of therapy is to talk about it, but I don’t—I don’t know if I can.”

He can’t. He really can’t. He’d rather disappoint Lizzie than talk about it right now, which means he seriously cannot do it.

To his credit, Marco takes that in stride. “No worries. So, this is your first time in counseling, which is totally all right. Basically, we talk about what you want to talk about. If you don’t want to go into that very serious event, that’s fine. It can take a little bit of work to be ready for that.”

Something in Joel’s chest loosens, just the slightest bit. He doesn’t have to talk about it. Not right now.

“Now, if I read your papers right, you’ve been home for two years.”

Joel shrugs. “Around there.”

“What made you come to therapy now, rather than earlier?”

“Thought I could handle it.”

“What made you change your mind?”

A lot of things, really. The thing that pushed him over the edge was the realization that ‘handling it’ looked a lot like getting worse, and he didn’t want to do something that he would regret—or, that would leave Lizzie to pick up his mess. “My wife,” he admits. “Lizzie. She’s awesome. She’s been—and my friends—they’ve been pushing for me to do therapy since I got out, really. I wouldn’t be here, if I didn’t have to be.”

“It can take time,” Marco says, seeming totally unbothered by Joel’s reluctance to be here. “We all move on different timetables. Did something happen that gave you the push to make the appointment now, though?”

He does not want to talk about that. Just trying to think about that night always makes his brain kind of fuzz over until he can’t pick out any details.

Even now, a month out from that night, he feels his head go all staticky at the mere thought of it.

Marco’s expecting a response. He has to say something.

“Got bad,” Joel mumbles.

“Bad how?”

Bad.

It was dark—everything was dark. So, so dark.

It’s still dark, isn’t it?

There’s no way to come back from that.

“Joel?”

Joel blinks. His head has tipped down far enough for his chin to touch his chest, his eyes suddenly focusing on the carpet as he realizes it’s in front of him. He adjusts his weight, grimaces when he feels a pillow behind him.

When he looks up, Marco is patiently waiting, a small crease between his eyebrows showing his concern. “Doing all right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Joel breathes, still trying to push away the fuzziness. “Yeah, sorry. I, er, do that sometimes. I call it blanking out.”

“Do you know what’s going on around you when it happens?”

Joel shrugs again. “Sometimes. Not really. My wife thinks it’s dissociation,” he adds, trying not to let his distaste for the term show.

Marco nods. “It could be. I’m not a huge fan of putting labels on things right away, especially since labels are transitory—they can change over time as that doesn’t fit anymore. If blanking out feels right to you, that’s fine.”

Oh.

That’s been . . . a thing, from the beginning. The words Lizzie used never felt quite right, so dramatic and difficult to process and apply. But the therapist is fine without using any of them—he even agrees with Joel.

Maybe this Marco guy knows what’s up.

“Now, do you want to work on not blanking out as one of your overall goals?” asks Marco.

“Yeah. That would be . . . awesome, actually.”

If he stopped blanking out, he might get things done. He might be good enough with just that that he won’t even need to talk about anything else. Can therapy do that? Can therapy really get rid of blanking out?

“What happens when you blank out?”

“I just . . . lose time,” Joel says. “I’m with it, and I’m fine, but then I blink and I’ve been gone for like . . . a couple of minutes, or more. Once I was gone almost all day.”

Marco grimaces. “That sounds horrible,” he says, and Joel couldn’t agree more. “I’m sorry. Okay, so you want to try and stop blanking out?”

“Yeah.” Is it that simple?

Marco jots that down. “Okay. Anything else?”

Honestly, Joel’s happy to leave it with that as a goal. That alone would be life-changing. But he should . . . he should really talk about the main thing.

Heat creeps up to Joel’s cheeks, which he shakes off angrily. Come on, they’re both adults. He’s a therapist, he’s probably heard all kinds of TMI.

Besides, a nasty voice in the back of Joel’s head whispers, you got used to this in the After.

“Like, sex,” he says eventually. “Is it all right to talk about that kind of stuff?”

“It’s all good. I’m relationship and trauma focused, so I hear a lot about it.”

Cool. “My wife and I have been trying to have sex for a while, but I can’t go through with it. I—I don’t want to hurt her by being all messed up in the head.”

Marco frowns. “Has she said that it hurts her when you can’t have sex?”

“I—no,” Joel hedges. “But I don’t want to do that to her, anyway. I want her to feel . . . fulfilled, you know?”

“Do you want to feel fulfilled, too?”

“I guess? I mean, yeah. I’d—I like having sex with my wife,” Joel says, face certainly entirely pink at this point.

“Okay! We can put that down as one of your goals,” Marco says, switching to a new page. “Successfully engage in intercourse. Do you have any other goals in mind?”

Were they not going to expand on that?

Marco is waiting, though, so Joel pushes away his confusion and thinks back to whatever it was he’d written on the intake papers.

There are other things that he thinks everyone expects of him, but he doesn’t want. He doesn’t want to get comfortable taking his shirt off, because he feels safe with it on and that’s fine. He doesn’t want to get used to the smell that had always permeated that place, that awful citrus scent. He doesn’t care if he never eats anything lemon ever again.

It would be nice, though, to feel a bit safer. He might have put that on the form.

“Just feel . . . better,” he says lamely. “Safe, I guess.”

“That’s a great goal,” says Marco. “And those are some pretty big goals, too—I’m happy to help you work on them. Is it all right if I tell you a bit more about how therapy works?”

Joel nods, his muscles relaxing just slightly, and as the doctor begins his spiel he just lets the words wash over him, his heart beating just a little too fast, tears that he hadn’t even noticed pushing at his eyes.

He can do this.

He can do it for Lizzie.

“How was it?” Lizzie asks, slipping her hand into his as they exit the building.

Luckily, Oli can take a hint. He grabs Bdubs’s arm and points at an odd color scheme in a shop window, pulling the attention to the garishly mismatched shades of pink and green.

Bdubs starts up with almost zero encouragement, talking about how hard it is to get those colors to work together, but if you can get them right, it’s absolutely perfect.

Joel looks his wife in the eyes and smiles.

“It was good,” he says softly. “Hard.”

“Yeah. I’m so proud of you.”

That’s . . . that’s nice.

“I love you,” Joel whispers.

“I love you, too.”

#febuwhump2025 #febuwhumpday28 #hermitcraft #hermitcraft smp #hermitcraft fanfic #smallishbeans #lark au #mas writes #YAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!#HE'S GETTING HELP!!#i scrapped like half of this fic an hour ago and rewrote #more than half honestly #so my apologies for any typos #dw the half i scrapped will be used later on #if all goes according to plan #so i guess i didn't really scrap it #ok i have to go eat food #lmk what you think #love you guys

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