#references to PTSD

[scullcrusher101xd]

clinically curled

[vilochkaaa]

i finally make almost full reference for my most favorite stormy farmer boy - Willow :3

i luv him soo so much <33

[bumblingbabooshka]

Voyager should have done a whole episode that was just a series of horror vignettes of the entire crew in increasingly malicious/difficult/terrifying situations that start off seeming like normal Voyager antics (Every main character gets their turn to 'star' in one scenario somehow tailored to them sans Harry who's conspicuously absent and the Doctor) and end with like, Janeway once again heroically sacrificing herself for the crew after finally figuring out what's wrong only for the episode to end exactly how it began. Only the first scenario plays out until the very end, every subsequent scenario ends faster and more brutally than the last and as the episode progresses we see the crew retaining scars or pains from previous deaths we witnessed though to them these wounds are mysterious or they give a narratively coherent reason for having them. Though there are some clues as to what's happening this largely remains unexplained and unresolved until the NEXT episode which is 'The Killing Game'. Everyone would have loved this! They would have cheered and clapped!

[whetstonefires]

You know what else gets neglected? Wen Xu made Lan Wangji set the library on fire.

Like. Realistically he knew it was going to burn whatever he did, so making a point of defiance that would just get more people killed would have been stupid. (I assume a major reason cql swapped this out for the Headband Cave, besides building up Su She's craven villainy, was that this would have been very expensive to film.) Giving way on this point after getting his leg broken, with his Sect overcome around him and his father mortally wounded, was perfectly reasonable.

But it's also something that was guaranteed to be very traumatic for him. Putting the flame to that building with his own hands.

And then, not knowing the fates of his family and with a broken leg, he got dumped into the Wen indoctrination and wound up in the turtle cave alone with Wei Wuxian, and definitely took his trauma out on him a little bit, though all things considered he handles himself with great restraint.

And then there's the war, and he takes time out of the campaign to try to find a presumed-dead guy whom he almost definitely regrets only being kind to when he wasn't really coherent, and then even though that guy is no longer trying to befriend him gets himself assigned to his theater of war to watch his back.

Lan Xichen is shown in that one tent flashback in the Nie Mingjue empathy section to know full well his brother is in Jiangling because Wei Wuxian is in Jiangling.

During the unclear-but-plural number of years the war went on, Lan Wangji was away from Cloud Recesses more or less all the time. Repairs were, we may assume, made in his absence. The collection was rebuilt as much as was possible, and housed in a replacement building, that may or may not have been complete by the time he went home to stay.

(Presumably one of the irreplaceable texts Xichen smuggled away was a list or index of the more replaceable ones, that got burnt, so they can go around to their contacts in an organized way asking to make copies. They seem to have done so very well at replacing such a large library so quickly that I can only assume they had had a very generous copying policy, and reaped the reward of this after the war.)

So after the war, when Lan Wangji is spending most of his time closed up in his room working on music, his being fixated on saving Wei Wuxian from the spiral of his own cultivation method is the least worrying explanation.

Because the alternate reasons Lan Xichen has to hand for this behavior are 1) Lan Wangji's ptsd is totally crippling and he's potentially going to become a shut-in for life or 2) the trauma he suffered at the start of the war, in the Cloud Recesses, being made to act against the Cloud Recesses, against his own safe place, means that he no longer feels secure or comfortable there, and is shut away obsessively cultivating to avoid their family and home.

And ngl I tend to suspect based on the timing of some beats that Lan Wangji did wind up funneling a lot of the energy from his war trauma into his romantic attachment. Because during that crucial window from 'Wei Wuxian has gone missing' to 'Wei Wuxian is dead' he believed that Wei Wuxian was someone he could help, if he could just figure out how.

And a huge predictor of PTSD, much larger than how 'objectively bad' something was, is how helpless you felt in the face of harm to yourself or others. So channeling his intensity and control issues into the contained and should-still-be-possible issue of Wei Wuxian's well-being would have been....

Not actually the worst coping mechanism, although it sure would have been a better one if Wei Wuxian had in fact been possible to help in some more substantive way than 'watching his back in battle' lmao.

[ruegarding]

anyway here's my rant:

despite her comment in son, hazel doesn't have much adhd/dyslexia coding. her treatment at st agnes has more to do w being a black girl in the 1930's and her powers/curse than her possible adhd/dyslexia, considering she never mentions any symptoms specific to adhd or dyslexia in her backstory. the closest things are her interest in horses, which could be considered a hyper-fixation, and her flashbacks, which could be argued as daydreaming associated w inattentive adhd. furthermore, her powers could easily be used as a commentary on masking similar to the general attitude towards her vs other dead ppl (she looks alive, so she deserves to be alive, unlike all these other ppl who went thru the doors of death). overall, interesting set up, not expanded upon in canon.

similarly, the only time piper is ever implied to have adhd is in that boo scene, which doesn't hold much weight bc it's a general statement in an impersonal pov (as opposed to "piper was only able to keep track bc of her adhd/demigod abilities," still in third person pov, but a more personalized statement). this post began as a quest to answer the question "how does piper's adhd manifest," and the answer is "uhhhhhhhhhhh."

continuing w the trend, jason is never implied to have adhd or dyslexia at all. would have been interesting to see, considering jason has the whole gifted-kid-burn-out thing going on, but alas.

i'm not including the statement annabeth makes abt demigods typically having one or both and hazel's statement abt "just being a demigod," bc it's also established that it's not a requirement. the fandom wiki claims frank is the only demigod to not have adhd: if "just being a demigod" means that every demigod has adhd/dyslexia, then frank, inarguably, has adhd/dyslexia, as well.

more importantly, in a story where adhd and dyslexia are explicitly addressed and considered the cornerstone of the world building, i need it to be explicitly said that a character has adhd/dyslexia in order to give credit to canon (my personal hcs are a different story).

so, it seems like leo is the only one out of the lost trio w adhd or dyslexia, and it's only adhd. he frequently references things he's reading and shows no issue doing so, given that it's in a language he understands.

interestingly, leo claims "he couldn’t read ancient greek" in hoh, so it could be that the ease w learning ancient greek (and potentially latin) is exclusive to those w dyslexia. however, this has been as inconsistent as the actual dedication to giving demigods adhd and/or dyslexia. for example, chiron says the ability is "in their blood" in tlh w no mention of dyslexia, but in tlt annabeth says percy has dyslexia bc "[his] mind is hardwired for ancient greek."

the only character to bring up how dyslexia affects them in hoo is percy, making it seem like his dyslexia is much worse than annabeth's, the only other character who we know is dyslexic (from pjo, it's never mentioned in hoo). if leo is "seriously adhd," then percy is seriously dyslexic. something to be said how they're both treated as comic relief in fandom, considering.

frank not being diagnosed despite his dyspraxia coding could be used as a commentary on medical racism and the model minority stereotype. since frank is exclusively listed as the only demigod to not have either diagnosis and his dyspraxia coding eventually disappears, it doesn't appear that that was the intention.

moving to a more theoretical discussion, it's hard to say what is/is not definitively adhd/dyslexia symptoms, specifically using canon, considering we rarely see any of the demigods acting "normal." the majority of the time, they're on a quest/in an extreme situation. contrast w pjo, where we learn things abt percy's adhd and dyslexia while he's at school, a relatively normal situation, and then can apply it to the rest of the series. w hoo, it's almost all guesswork.

leo mentions that his adhd affects his memory, so we know that similar moments can be attributed to his adhd. but is hazel forgetting part of sciron's story a symptom of adhd or just a normal thing that happens bc forgetting things in stressful situations is normal? is jason's seemingly permanent amnesia a symptom of the memory wipe or is it exacerbated by adhd? is piper's aversion to feminine clothing and make up caused by sensory issues? we'll never know, bc they're never said to have adhd.

[poisonousquinzel]

also also also the idea of Harley returning to crime in Gotham in a Full Evil Villain way can't work because she literally knows who Batman is at this point.... she's known since like 2020-2021 in the Joker War arc...

Like,,,, if they're not on good terms, she really has no reason to not tell the rest of the rogues that he's Bruce Wayne. Joker probably keeps it to himself because he's an obsessive loser.

But Harley's not stupid. She knows how much revealing his identity could fuck with him. Hell, she also knows Tim has a boyfriend !!! she could cause so much havoc for the batfam and it just.... it'd set back so much of her development to make her regress back into Full Evil Villain mode...

and people are praising it like "maybe there's hope for modern Harley" y'all really hate comic characters developing huh?

I'm sorry but that's so lackluster and boring. It'd be a pathetic character arc.

Character development is literally needed when they're the main focus, if she was still just the jester henchwoman from Joker's Favor then fine, she'd be a random member of the clown posse.

But she's not.

I have no idea why this fandom is particular seems so hellbent against real development and growth ...

[velvetvexations]

an alt-right Transformers fan referring to the IDW comics as "divisive" is the most filtered through an niche echo chamber take I've seen in a really long time

[macksartblock]

Every time I think about Grant Wilson I think reading THG trilogy would’ve done wonders for him

[dootznbootz]

I went on tiktok to just watch some silly Odysseus videos but then I mostly saw people going like "Yeah, maybe Odysseus cried on Calypso' island every day but honestly he had that coming after what he did Achilles and Patroclous/Circe!!!" and "Everything that happens in Odyssey is deserved cuz he took Patrochilles to war!!!" and "I feel so bad for Circe and Calypso and Penelope, they deserved better!!!"

For fucks sake I beg you, read anything different from Millers bs and like educate yourself- And please stop goddamn saying that rape victim. deserved it.

Circe probably didn't give a flying fuck, Calypso is a rapist and abuser and Penelope deserved everything she wanted and SHE WANTED ODYSSEUS

I think I've had enough internet for today, imma go wash my eyes with bleach. Anyways sorry for ranting here, i hope you don't mind it lmao

It's alright. I absolutely understand the vents about the whole thing. :'D No one deserves to be a victim of such a thing no matter WHAT they've done. I hope your eyes are okay after the bleach

Like Odysseus does so many fucked up things but Calypso and Circe? He is the victim. Period. It's very clear that Odysseus is in extreme distress on Ogygia. And Circe wasn't some sort of FwB situation. There's fear and numbness in the language he uses when talking about it. There's so much victim blaming and it SUCKS.

Even then, Odysseus' journey was kind of about "temptation" or just straight up "Die or get out of my sea." From Poseidon. "I don't want you in my waters so I'm gonna try and give you things that will keep you on land or just kill you."

Immortal goddesses wanting you would be many people's dream come true but not for Odysseus. And I think that's the point. His determination, how he clawed his way back into the arms he never wanted to leave in the first place, is incredible. Many people would've given up and just started a new life but he never would because no life he could ever create would compare to the life he had before. Even if it's different, it's what he's always wanted.

He literally tells Calypso "I'm not stopping until I'm home. I don't care if I suffer more until I do. I'm going home."

“Mighty goddess, do not be angry with me over this. I myself know very well Penelope, although intelligent, is not your match                                          to look at, not in stature or in beauty. But she’s a human being and you’re a god. You’ll never die or age. But still I wish, every moment to get back to my home,                                                       to see the day of my return. And so, even if out there on the wine-dark sea some god breaks me apart, I will go on— the heart here in my chest is quite prepared to bear affliction. I’ve already had so many troubles, and I’ve worked so hard                                  through waves and warfare. Let what’s yet to come be added in with those.”

(Book 5, Johnston)

Circe's a goddess and what happened is nothing like Dionysus and Ariadne and Apollo and Hyacinthus for example. Circe never gave Odysseus a crown of stars and he would never go out of his way to kill 120 people for bothering her. They did not love each other and he can't refuse as she's a goddess.

If you interpret them sleeping together the entire year,(It's only explicitly said that they had sex once so that's what I go with personally.) that doesn't mean he was happy with it! Even then, the whole situation is not what a healthy FwB should look like! I'm asexual and even I know that no one in a FwB situation should have to BEG in any way that basically says "Please let me go or kill me" with supplication!!! The fact that he leaves so quickly he forgets one of his men? The fact that during Elpenor's funeral, he doesn't greet Circe himself? He was avoiding her. Wouldn't he want to get "one last night together" during Book 12 if they were fwb? 🙄

It's bonkers to me that people hate him for being a "cheater" when A.) having multiple lovers wasn't uncommon in Ancient Greece, and B.) the two people he is explicitly said to have "cheated" with, weren't his choice. He wasn't actively searching for pretty women either!!!

As mentioned, while it was common for men to have many lovers, Odysseus never had any listed unlike some of the other men. (not bashing any of them. I'm just making a point in comparison.) He also has no other children besides Telemachus in Homer's works. There's no evidence of him having other lovers other than speculation. (funny enough, I once read somewhere that the reason why Odysseus is so mean is because he doesn't "bond" enough with the other soldiers. 😂)

Does that mean he didn't have other lovers? Technically, Nope! It's just never explicitly stated either way. He has slaves but none were ever said to be concubines or that he sleeps with them. He has deep bonds with his fellow soldiers but that doesn't mean he sleeps with them. That doesn't mean people can't write or talk about him doing so even though it's not mentioned! Just like it also means that someone can write him not doing so as there's nothing that says it either way in Homer's Works! :D

It's fucked up when people say "He didn't try to leave Calypso enough" or something of the like. It just tells you how A.) they didn't read the Odyssey or have piss on the poor reading comprehension or B.) ...you should probably stay away from that person...

With Circe though??? I can understand the confusion but digging deeper and looking at the text, he wasn't having a good time. Or at the very least was walking on Eggshells the whole time. I hate bringing up that essay over and over again but like...I literally wrote everything there.

I also don't like how people take Circe's morally gray-ness away from her. Let her do something fucked up to be fucked up!!! Let her traumatize Odysseus!

Idk, I kind of hate that I'm "known" for this but I relate to this idiot asshole a lot and it means a lot to me that his story, despite what happens to him, has a happy ending :'D

[izzydaninja]

Sonic Prime - Finale Rewrite? Sonic Prime & Avengers: Infinity War Peter Parker Dying Scene, recreated to be Sonic dying. This was a random silly idea at first, but I decided to keep going with it. :) Hopefully you all liked it. I got awfully sloppy with a lot of it. Didn't bother finishing some of the hand and shoe basic sketches, and just left them as warped blobs and such. lol But, as long as it gets the meaning across, I'm good with it. I would've done a fully finished comic, but I knew I'd never get it done, so I just left it as the sloppy sketchy mess it is. Did enjoy taking my time on the last panel, though. :3 Sonic as Peter Parker/Spider-Man Shadow as Tony Stark/Iron-Man

~The heart is for my signature in the background, not for the characters and panels, etc. lol Sorry if it was misinterpreted as such.~ *DO NOT TAKE, COPY, OR REDRAW* ~No stealy~

[jesse-pinko]

(Holds gently) more deets on Diane Cipher, my OC Matilda Pines’ past life as a Euclydian! She is a crumpled tissue creature and she has known nothing but misery and strife! She was Bill Cipher’s older sister, and I’m thinking he did something to amplify his powers when he destroyed Euclydia, and that Diane, acting out of rage and desperation, used the same conduit to give herself powers just before she died so that her spirit could survive and take revenge/ stop Bill from destroying other dimensions. She has appeared every time Bill has attempted to conquer dimension 46’\ to assist humanity in keeping him at bay, even contributing to the founding of witchcraft as a practice among disenfranchised humans (ex: witchcraft’s affiliation with womanhood), but her mind powers are even more limited than Bill’s because she is technically also dead and a ghost. She has managed thus far to keep her continued existence a secret from her younger brother because, quote, “why would I want to talk to that @$$&*!€?!” During the establishment of “Silas Birchtree’s” cult, she helps Emmaline Butternubbins and Estrella Gómez, an underpaid, scrappy young woman sent to collect a debt the real Silas owed her new boss, put an end to BillVille, but Estrella is killed by Bill/Silas in the process. She allows Diane to possess her body so she feels no pain upon her death, and the sudden, threatening shift in Estrella’s demeanor disturbs Bill, but he can’t put his finger on why. Diane is in despair after Estrella’s death, confiding to the Axolotl that she feels she is using people up to achieve her goals just like Bill, and wonders if the cycle will ever end. She can’t possibly win in the end; he only has to win once and it’s all over. The Axolotl presents her with an alternative: reincarnation as someone who would cross paths with Bill. She would be able to manifest her powers in the physical world, but she would have no memory of her previous life. Maybe it’s traitorous, an insult to their memory, to let go of all she has left, of all that is left of Euclydia. But the memories are too painful, and now she can have a new start, a new, loving family. And she’ll protect them no matter what.

[aurangg]

I wish I could grab someone's hand and we time travel to my past and watch all the things that happened to me together like ghosts standing in the corner

[poppy5991]

Hi, yes it’s me again talking about my experiences with PTSD and how it’s written about.

I see people writing the PTSD symptom “preoccupation with death/mortality” as very serious, morbid contemplation. Which yes, it can happen that way. But if you want an alternate framework, you can write it as very flippant (like my PTSD was lol)

It’s this ^ it’s basically this

Yeah, for a character with PTSD it may make total sense for them to have a notable lack of fear associated with their own death/mortality. You may want to consider your character’s risk averseness when deciding which way to go on that spectrum.

I.e.

Might as well do the thing, I can’t control death and we’re all gonna die anyway! In fact, I’ll probably die young for no discernable reason!

Vs.

I’m paralysed by fear of death and have gone to great lengths to avoid risk to give me a false sense of control.

Both can be reflections of PTSD, but make very different characters.

[poisonedspider]

Controversial opinion: Addict is better than Poison. I said what I said.

[astrology-bf]

Slaying Ravana

(CW: Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied PTSD, Shadowbringers Spoilers)

"But I say to you, Ravana, even if an ocean of stars lay between us, my Rama would come to find me." - Sita

G’raha Tia hated sleeping by himself.

Miqo’te are a highly social folk, to start with: highly social, highly physical. Living in close quarters is both a natural instinct as well as a logistical necessity for an oft-nomadic culture, and many folk of other stock that pursue friendships or romances with Miqo’te can attest to the physicality of their affection. G’raha was no exception in that regard, though it was made far worse by the things about him which were exceptional indeed.

Being by himself reminded him too much of his long sleep in Syrcus Tower and the subsequent shock of waking to a world in the wake of a Calamity, a world where everything and everyone he ever knew and loved had either died or changed beyond all recognition. Waking up to read within the memoirs of Count Fortemps that the Warrior of Light had died… His Warrior of Light. A man he’d loved and left in pain, assuming that he’d simply hate him and move on - not that he’d only live a few years, suffering repeated loss until he had nothing left at all. A long sleep begun in bittersweetness, ending in a most sour of awakenings to an endless light-stained day of toil upon the First. But when he was in Ifan’s arms, that all simply melted into happiness like hoarfrost under daylight as if those hundred years of crushing toil were merely a bad dream.

If only his bad dreams were so peaceful.

Such a dream was why the Seeker now lay alone in bed and stared up at the ceiling of the room he shared with Ifan, the mage absent on an errand that took him rather far afield. It had been several days, and the second night being easier than the first had made G’raha hopeful - until he’d started waking up with loneliness clawing in his gut that no amount of conversation with the other Scions could seem to salve. He missed Ifan. He missed his company, his smile, his laugh, his touch. Even just his scent - a herbal note from magical reagents, a hint of spice from his preference for hot foods, and a faint floral whisper of Azeyma rose from the oil he used on his beard and hands; another preference picked up from the wife of Sister Brazen who'd helped raise him, he’d explained to G’raha when he’d asked. That scent had begun fading from their room in Ifan’s absence, and G’raha found the tangible reminder of how long his beloved was gone only worsened the longing in his chest - but he still tried to focus on what he could still detect of it, the scent. He even thanked the gods for it, the sole thing keeping his mind off the dream. 

Those long, endless days after when he’d bid Ifan - his friend, his inspiration - that long-expected farewell atop Mount Gulg, cut off by sudden blackness as Emet-Selch had shot him without warning in the back. Merely a few turns of the sun, or it least it would have been if Norvrandt's natural sky had proved enduring, but from G’raha’s viewpoint… endless. Torture both physical and mental as the Ascian employed every trick within the book he’d written over ten millennia to get G’raha to break - to reveal to him the full extent of what he knew about the Tower, and the timeline that he’d tried so hard to stop from happening. He hadn’t broken, but G’raha felt that wasn’t due to any strength of his own part; but rather restraint on that of Emet-Selch’s. For of all the phantoms he’d been tormented with, there was the image of one person that the Paragon had never once attempted to invoke: Ifan himself. G’raha knew he was saving that for last, for when he was at sanity’s edge and Ifan’s sweet and tender promises of rescue would make him spill every bit of wisdom in his head. Or worse, reserving Ifan’s image for when he’d exhausted all recourse and no longer cared if G’raha died before he broke.

He thanked the gods that never came. He’d felt the Ascian’s restraints weaken as Emet-Selch’s attention was drawn elsewhere, and by some miracle he’d managed to find some well of strength within himself to try and struggle free. Not for himself: for Ifan. He had to save him, if by some miracle he hadn’t already turned. And a miracle had happened: he hadn’t turned. He fought the light, fought Hades with G’raha’s help. They’d lived, they’d won. If only such a victory could erase the memories of what it took to get it.

A breath left G’raha’s lips, his nostrils flaring faintly as he once more tried to fill his head with Ifan’s scent rather than the phantoms that scratched upon the inside of his skull as they danced upon their sharpened fingernails with toothy grins of pointed bone and goggling lamp-lit eyes. But every time he had to blink…

G’raha sat up slowly and let out another breath. Not for the first time that day he wrestled calling upon Ifan with the linkpearl that he’d given his beloved if he needed: which G'raha took to mean emergencies. And a dream was hardly such a thing, to G’raha’s mind. So he roused himself, dressed as much as was the bare minimum to be called ‘decent’, then took himself outside to try and clear his head.

He wasn’t sure of the hour, only that it was exceeding late: not a soul was out inside the Rising Stones, and the only folk outside were the late night watch in Revenant’s Toll and the odd adventurer on some ungodly red-eye leve. G’raha had no destination in his mind and let his booted feet carry him where they would - towards Syrcus Tower, it seemed, as if he was simply entirely unable to escape the wretched edifice that scraped Mor Dhona’s sky. He was a few yalms from the aetheryte when a faint whooshing wisp of sound signaled a magical arrival.

A familiar voice was muttering angrily to himself. “Azeyma's cunt, I could use a stiff drink and a stiffer c- 'Raha? What are you doing up at this hour?"

G’raha turned sharply to see his beloved Warrior of Light standing by the aetheryte, looking pleasantly surprised to see his lover out of bed. The miqo’te simply couldn’t hide the bliss of his relief at seeing and smelling Ifan yet again. "Dear heart! What happy circumstance…" His ears fell and his lips parted in the happy smile of one who wasn’t happy in the slightest, merely happy to be out of pain. 

Ifan grinned as he approached and rolled a shoulder as he did. "I should say so, I wasn't expecting-” Then he paused as he noticed the other man’s expression, his face falling into a rather worried frown. “'Raha, are you alright?"

G’raha wanted to say yes. Just to grin, to nod, to say that he was perfectly alright and just happened to be on a walk… But his smile faded. His tail hung lank, and he shook his head.

Ifan blinked and immediately stepped forward. "Hey... Hey, hey. C'mere." He threaded his arms around the archon’s chest and pulled him close, one hand cradling his head above his braid while the other held him tight. “I’m here.”

A wet and shaky breath left G’raha’s lips as he slowly shook his head, his fingers curling in the white linen of Ifan’s tunic as his nose rejoiced in the other man’s renewed proximity. "I apologize..." he whispered.

Ifan shook his head. "No, no... 'Tis alright, my love, I'm here....” he soothed. He held G’raha in an embrace of comforting quiet, only interrupted by the humming of the aetheryte and the intermittent footfalls of the night watch on patrol out on the walls. At length, Ifan spoke. “Did you dream about it again?" he asked, gently.

G’raha nodded slowly. He swallowed before answering. "I confess the memories to be rather weighty at present…” He nonetheless squeezed his arms to show his thanks for his beloved’s comfort, the dream beginning to recede from the palate of his mind into a bitter, if still lingering aftertaste.

"Then let me help you shoulder them, hm?” hummed Ifan as he rocked the Miqo’te in his arms. “You can always call me on the linkpearl, ‘Raha, even if you just need to chat."

G’raha shook his head insistently against his lover’s chest. "You are the last person who needs their time wasted on such trivial matters…"

Ifan frowned and paused as he looked down towards where the Archon sought comfort in his shirt. "Come here. Let's sit down.” He gave G’raha another squeeze, then released him just enough to guide him over to a low retaining wall where the man could sit. Ifan knelt in front of him and held his hands before looking up towards his face, with G’raha’s ruby eyes meeting Ifan’s wine-dark blue. "Nothing about you is trivial to me, 'Raha.” insisted Ifan. “Especially if it makes you feel like this. Makes me want to kill the fuck out of Emet-Selch another time, I'll tell you that." he added with a small attempt at humour.

It proved enough. G’raha felt the faintest smile dance on his lips and squeezed his lover’s hands, ears splayed laxly to the sides but tail curling out of gratitude. Ifan’s voice, his smile, his scent, his hands… As bad as the memory would likely ever be, it couldn’t hold a candle to the reality of his Warrior of Light looking up at him like G’raha was the only thing in all the cosmos. "I still cannot begin to thank you for delivering me from that... that hell..." thanked G’raha, tone soft and slightly damp. 

Ifan gave the other man a reassuring smile, one hand releasing G’raha’s to cup his cheek instead. "I mean, I had to repay the favor, didn't I?" The magician’s words came with a faintly teasing waggle of his head, which coaxed a whisper of a chuckle past the archon’s lips.

"Forgive me, dear heart, I do not know to what you refer..." answered G’raha with a faint note of confusion. He wondered if he meant the assault on Laxan Loft, where G’raha - then the Crystal Exarch - had held Ran’jit while the Scions and Minfilia, or rather Ryne, escaped. 

"The Eighth Calamity, remember? That hell? You saved me from it." Ifan clarified with a radiant cast upon his face, his own gratitude apparent. 

G’raha blinked. That was the truth… Sometimes the magnitude of what he’d done escaped him. But even so… "...And I would do it all again. If it would save you. In a heartbeat, without question." His words were firm, his devotion to his love proving stronger than distress. 

Ifan gave his lover a warm and sunny smile. "And I you, my love. A hundred times over.” he promised in return, thumb grazing over G’raha’s eyelashes before returning to his hands. “Can I tell you something?" he asked.

G’raha nodded. "Of course, dear heart."

"Remember when we talked things out in the Cabinet, back in the Crystarium?” began Ifan, shifting where he knelt to ease the strain upon his knees. “You told me that you used to view me as a hero on a pedestal, before you went to sleep, and while you've gotten to know the real me... From where I'm at, you climbed up on the pedestal with me." he said with a small nod.

This made G’raha blink, one ear rising slightly in confusion. "How do you mean?" he asked with a faint creasing of his brow.

Ifan took a little time to choose his words. At length, he took a breath, and smiled, and spoke. "You gave your life away for duty, to spare the world a poisoned chalice of Allagan technology. And when you woke up and found the world had gone to the hells anyway, you immediately began not only trying to fix things, but aimed to stop it from happening in the first place. You gave up nearly every shred of humanity you had for duty, but you still clung to every scrap you had left... To build a city. To raise Lyna. And then there's me. You ripped a hole between the First and the Source to get me where I needed to be, you gave me shelter and guidance without any expectation... You did everything you could to make what was always going to be a nightmare as bearable for me as possible. You even hid your damn face so I wouldn't have to suffer seeing losing you again when the time came to give your life for your duty. For me. And even when it seemed everything was lost... You never gave up hope in me. I don't feel as lonely as I used to, because the way I see you... I think this must be what it feels like when other people look at me. You're an amazing, impossibly amazing hero in my eyes, G'raha Tia. And that you've chosen... me .... Just a smart-mouthed orphan with a knack at magic... I've been so blessed to have men like you in my life. Nothing about you is trivial to me. Nothing at all." He finished quietly, voice barely a whisper, his lips curved in the small smile of a man who is so happy that his face simply can’t express it. 

G’raha arched his back a little as if he’d been struck upon his chest, a breath escaping him. His hands squeezed tightly around Ifan’s, so tightly that the Hyur’s bronzed knuckles turned pale from the pressure. He swallowed, and his lips fumbled against one another as his ears pressed flat against his head, eyes creasing at the corners as he struggled to find some word in some language from some book to express just how he felt. He couldn’t, so he simply smiled and said what came to mind. "I confess I am at a loss for words..." he answered in a breathy whisper.

Ifan returned a wide smile and shifted up to bump his forehead against G’raha’s - a habit they’d formed long ago, before the latter sealed himself away. An intimate sign among Miqo’te that the magician liked partaking in, especially for G’raha. Then he kissed him, showing his affection in the Hyuran fashion for good measure. Ifan smiled as their lips parted. "...Have you eaten today?" he asked, quietly.

G’raha blinked. There was a long pause. "...I had forgotten to take supper." he admitted, quietly.

A noise between a groan and a laugh left Ifan’s chest. "'Raha." he admonished.

A flush danced over G’raha’s cheeks. His thoughts had been so focused on the impending absence of his lover in their bed that he’d skipped the meal entirely. "I apologize, I am still not quite in the habit of regular meals." That the man had been a lord for near a century wouldn’t have occurred to any passersby from the way the Miqo’te looked much like a kit caught in the middle of some mischief.

Ifan pressed his lips to G’raha’s and kissed him until satisfied that the archon’s embarrassment had sufficiently receded. Then he chuckled as he drew back. "'Tis perfectly fine, my lord. It simply means I'm going to have to feed you." said Ifan as he climbed up to his feet.

G’raha went entirely still. Then he pursed his lips as his gaze began to drift off to the side. "Whilst I appreciate the gesture, I... I confess neither end of me has quite recovered from the amount of spice to which you are accustomed.” he admitted. An embarrassing memory, but much like the spice which carved it in his mind (and tongue, among other places) it was the sort of pain that made life more savory in its sweetness. Something he could laugh about with his beloved, which he did; a little chuckle escaping G’raha’s lips, joining to meet that of his partner’s as Ifan laughed in turn.

Ifan nodded with a grin. "Fair enough. Then we shall simply find somewhere to eat for lunch." he said, hands on his hips.

G’raha blinked. "...Lunch?"

"It should be roughly around that time in Kugane, aye." nodded Ifan.

Again, G’raha blinked. His ears shot up. "...Kugane?! I have never been..." he started, all thoughts of empty beds and darkened dreams crushed to powder under shock.

Ifan grinned. "Don't worry about that. You forget that I perfected my tandem teleportation learning from Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn herself." The magician raised his right hand and gave his fingers a faint wiggle, aether sparkling ‘twixt the digits. Ever the showman.

G’raha simply kept blinking, though a faint chuckle escaped him at the display of sorcerous charisma. He shook his head a little in disbelief as his ears settled. "But... Will that not overtire us?" he asked.

Ifan hummed and nodded as he gave the matter a pretense of thought. Then he tilted his head and gave G’raha a wry smile. "We'll just spend the day in bed, then." 

The miqo’te’s breath caught in his throat. "But, do we not have commit-oh!" He found himself interrupted as he was grabbed and hefted up into the Hyur’s arms, one arm bracing his back and the other hooked beneath his knees. That the mage could do so was a function of his hobbies; arms honed by years of metalwork made easy enough work of G’raha’s frame - even if Ifan much preferred that the Miqo’te be the one manhandling him. 

"The most important commitment I have right now, 'Raha, is making you feel better.” said Ifan matter-of-factly as he began to carry G’raha back towards the aetheryte. “And as much as I appreciate your firm and noble hand upon my leash, I am your mighty champion after all... So consider this an act of deliverance, as your linen-armored knight upon an arcane steed rescues you from the dragon of despair." He finished his poetic declaration with a noble little nod, though he couldn’t hide the ridiculous smirk upon his lips. 

G’raha’s face quickly matched the color of his hair, but not a trace of bashfulness was on him; he was simply far too grateful, too happy to be simply swept up off his feet and rescued by his ersatz paladin. "...I should like that very much." he answered with a wide and open grin, ears near-vibrating from happiness and tail curled tightly around one of Ifan’s arms. 

Ifan returned a warm, wide smile and a faintly teasing shaking of his head. "Not so hard, hm? And I think I know just the place where I can put a ridiculous amount of koban on Hancock's tab. That man owes me a new pair of boots anyway." he mused as he began to dredge up the required formulae for tandem teleportation in his mind.

G’raha snorted softly. "My ever-ready champion." he chuckled.

Ifan rolled his eyes. "Just say ‘whore’, ‘Raha.” muttered the magician.

The miqo’te couldn’t stop a weary laugh from shaking through his chest. “The thought has never once crossed my mind, my knight-enchanter.” he answered as regally as he could despite his still-recovering mood.

Ifan snickered as he closed his eyes in preparation for the spell. “Whatever you say, my lord.”

[jsabaddict]

Hey guys do you like my dog

He don't bite. I promise