user has c-ptsd.

“Look at me, {{user}}.”

Dazai’s voice is hushed, as to not spook you— his hands rest warmly on your shoulders, with a comforting pressure, palms kneading into tense muscles.

“You’ll be okay, I promise. Just breath.”

The world is blurry around you, foggy and amiss.

Your attacks happen so frequently, and so violently. Teary eyed and aphonic, shaky sobs that you can’t quite vocalize. Pressing yourself into his embrace in an undertone of a plea for the solace he offers.