#cw spiraling

[imiyiru]

"She said she wasn't feeling well...maybe you should check on her."

[notavampireartist15]

i wrote a random thing in, like, an hour. read the tags, there's nothing extreme at all but i'd still recommend being careful. enjoy, i guess

"Prompto."

He doesn't look up. He can't look up, because if he does, it'll make it real. The cold ceramic of the sink bites into his palms, the chill sinking deep, deep, deep into his bones. He hasn't felt this cold since he was twenty, lying on his side in the snow, feeling like the world was ending.

Now, here, the world has ended. It ended over ten years ago, in Zegnautus Keep, with a blue crystal and a goodbye he didn't fully understand at the time. The world has ended, and he is already dead and rotting, while life goes on around him.

Maybe this is proof of his stagnation, of his rot, that he's seeing dead things now. Maybe he's died in his sleep, and this is the afterlife.

Maybe he's just finally lost his mind.

He takes a shaky breath. In, out. In, out. Reaches over, turns the tap on. Splashes water over his face. Doesn't look in the mirror.

"Prompto."

He doesn't look in the mirror.

"Prompto, please. Please look at me."

He doesn't look.

"Hey. C'mon. Please. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry."

He doesn't.

"Is that what you wanna hear? Is that what'll get you to look at me? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He-

"Guess not." Pause. In, out. Don't look. "I didn't want to leave you, y'know."

No.

"I didn't wanna leave any of you. If there was any other way, I would've taken it. I know that doesn't make it better, and I get why you're mad. Just- I need you to understand. I need you to know that I didn't want to hurt you."

He doesn't-

"How are Gladio and Ignis?"

Silence.

"Guess they'd be in charge of rebuilding Lucis." Pause. In, out. "Can't think of anyone better for the job, to be honest. I mean, Ignis is... well, he's Ignis. And Gladio’s speciality is barking orders at people. Surely that's come in useful at some point."

The laugh sounds so real.

He needs to leave the bathroom. To get away from the mirror.

His legs won't move, the ice of the tiles beneath his bare feet freezing him in place. He's so cold.

It's snowing, and he's alone, and he's chained up in Zegnautus Keep with Ardyn's mocking echoing in his ears, and there's a blue crystal, and the world is in darkness, and he's alone-

"Hey, hey, hey, breathe."

Something touches his shoulder. Air. A breath. Movement out of the corner of his eye. A hand, then, maybe. The absence of one. It doesn't matter. It's not real. He's nobody, and he's nowhere. Just another faceless clone.

"Hey, Prompto, c'mon. Don't freak out. I'm not gonna hurt you. It's me. You know I wouldn't hurt you, right?"

His best friend pushed him off the train. His best friend left him alone. Alone in the dark. Alone in the snow.

Maybe he died in the snow. Maybe his life's just flashing before his eyes. Maybe this is all a dream, and he'll wake up in his twelve-year-old body, a body that doesn't fit him, that can't run for more than a few minutes at a time, that can't nail a target from a hundred metres away. He'll wake up, and he'll always have been alone.

"Please." The voice that isn't there sounds strained. Broken. "You're scaring me, man. You can see me, right? You saw me earlier. Come on. Talk to me."

"Go away." His voice is hoarse with disuse, the rough edges of it scraping against his throat. It hurts.

The thing that isn't there startles- he sees it out of the corner of his eye, because he still refuses to look up, to acknowledge it head-on. It isn't him. It isn't real. He's alone.

"I... Prompto?"

"You aren't him. You aren't real."

"I-I- I swear, I- it's me, it's Noct. Please, just- look at me."

"Noct is dead."

Another laugh, this one strained. "Y-yeah. Yeah I am."

"... Don't know if you've noticed, but dead people don't usually talk."

"I'm a... special case."

Noctis is. He's always been, in everything. He'd been destined to die since before they met.

They were never meant to be friends, or even meet. He- Prompto- was always meant to be alone. Noctis was always meant to die.

Maybe this is the universe's way of punishing him for daring to actually care about the gods' sacrificial lamb.

Maybe he's just delusional. Maybe he's going insane.

...

He looks up.

Noctis stands behind him in the mirror. He looks the exact same has he had ten years ago. Not when he died. When he left.

Somehow, that's the part that makes this seem most like a sick joke.

He touches the mirror. The glass is cold under his fingertips, cold like absence, cold like darkness.

Cold like the snow.

He watches Noctis' face light up with hope, and then immediately fall as he begins to walk away.

He leaves the bathroom, and, immediately, the ghost is gone. The voice goes silent. Blissfully, horrifyingly silent.

He is alone once more.

[benjaboyisatwink]

...I never planned to add to Anxious reader, butttt... Like..I turned on my notebook to study and immediately got flashbacked to this week bc I work mostly on a computer and immediately my anxiety spiked?? Send help I think I'm about to go on a anxiety high for a good month or so before it settles again

You shake, you shake and you feel the pressure in your lungs, the weight in your stomach, the buzz in your head. Anxiety settles between your ribs and underneath your skin like a familiar blanket. You almost embrace it, maybe because it's easier to just accept it than try to stop it, it never stops, it had never stopped and you eventually understood it never would.

Your mind keeps flitting over worries, how you can be better, how the weight of this mission's outcome is also on your shoulders, and you're sure you're not enough, you're sure you'll fail, because you don't have enough experience, you are too dumb, too careless. Remember that time you failed during training? Or that time you forgot one step that would've gotten your comrades killed in the field? Or when you trembled while trying to shoot? It'll happen again. It'll happen again and you'll die and kill the others because you're not enough—

"Kid!"

You snap your eyes snap to your Captain, and you feel like crying. He's seeing how nervous you are and now he'll know your confidence and skill are just an act.

"Breathe— just keep breathing swee'eart"

you hear Gaz murmur and his hand squeezes your arm, and the pressure and warmth of his gloved hand seems to weight you back to reality for a second. You focus on it, then try to focus on his breathing, but you can barely think with how terribly anxious you feel.

"You're safe, we're safe, relax"

He says, but you can't believe that, you can't because this is already how you feel all the time, you can't because it's been years that the moment you step on base or on field, you're tense, that the only moments you're not feeling two seconds for throwing up is when you're on your flat halfway across the city.

Either way, you try. You squeeze Gaz's vest, you let him hug you and you focus on his breathing, the more you focus on breathing slowly, the more a heavy exhaustion settles, eyes closing as you simply feel tired, so so tired. You don't question that as soon as you stop trembling, your body slumps. It's the routine you usually did in your bunker, trembling and crying until exhaustion screamed louder and you simply fell asleep.

And that's what happened, you slumped, like kicked out cold, whole body going slack as Gaz held you. The team shared a look, a horrified one, not because they thought of you as a liability or as a bad soldier, but because they felt dread pool in their stomachs at how you had been hiding your pain and going through it on your own. A quiet tension settles between them when Gaz carries you to the couch and let's you sleep, they don't need to talk to know what their common goal is now.

They won't let that go on any longer. None of them could handle letting you go through it alone after seeing how you looked, how small you made yourself be. You were their teammate, and they took care of what was theirs.

[caninisjohnlocked]

Thinking about pre-empt Sherlock being awake and upset in the middle of the night trying furiously to learn how to tie a tie as perfectly as possible by himself because he has spiralled to the point where he believes that John wouldn’t and shouldn’t help him with it in the future (while juggling with the possibility that he might not ever wake up which has been made starkly more worrying and likely-seeming by the spiralling), not out of malice but because Sherlock would stop him because he still believes he has failed him but he has too many things on his mind and his hands are shaking and he just can’t so it leaves him with his eyes maddeningly empty of tears and slightly glazed over, bleakly questioning his worth and the intellect which he and his peers place so much importance on which brings him back to believing that he doesn’t deserve to be close to the people he loves

[etherealizzie]

dennis whitaker always felt a little funky when he moved out of his tiny ass nebraska town. when he left his family, he felt like a failure. a failure of a son and a brother. even though dennis was going to college, it felt like he was abandoning them.

dennis already didn't have any friends, he already felt.. out of place in med school. even though he was damn good at what he did, dennis felt like he didn't deserve it.

he just had this energy to him. dennis didn't understand, he didn't really know how to articulate it.

and god, did he feel like shit when he finally started his residency. dennis whitaker felt like he wasn't ever going to fucking belong anywhere. he felt awkward, he felt.. a sense of shame. dennis especially felt isolated.

he sees the looks people give him. he sees how patients look at him like he's incompetent.

it didn't help either when dennis had his patient die on him for the first time. in fact, it amplified. he felt like he was never going to amount to anything. like he was the failure he knew he would be from the beginning.

especially when he was living on the 8th floor of the hospital. whenever he found himself looking out of the window, at the lights of the city, dennis whitaker felt hollow in his chest.

[yourlocalavian]

Heh heh heh my bf just sent me a text asking if i still like him because ive been avoiding him

....which led me to realize that my text confirming that I wanted to meet with him tomorrow for dinner never went through

I'm gonna be sick

😀........

[adammurray88frombps]

[ 7:01 PM ] adam? where are you

[ 7:35 PM ] its been like 30 minutes dude are you getting on tn oR n.ot ? ¿

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☺︎

[ 8:22 PM ] Are you still alive.

[ 8:34 PM ] Look, I'm sorry, okay. I've just been dealing with shit.

[ 8:46 PM ] Please. Please tell me you're okay.

[theeclipsepack]

btw, OSDD 1A is not a real disorder, that’s a myth spread by did-research (not a realisable site.) OSDD 1A comes from DDNOS 1A, and most cases of DDNOS 1A would be DID in the DSM 5

Oh??? I uh does anyone know if this is true or not (we can't trust a random person who we don't know so please if anyone knows let me know)