#Best Medication For Panic Attacks And Anxiety

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 2 of Danny being sort of reincarnated in the DC universe. Tim's pov of Danny and his weirdness. Ft Damian and setting up a play date [pt 1 here] [pt3 here]

Tim can honestly say he's enjoyed the last few months. His newest little brother is a delight and managed to get everyone wrapped around his little finger. The funniest, and saddest if Tim was honest, part of it all is that Danny has no idea. He hasn't seemed to realize how devastatingly cute he is while exploring the world. Add in the fact Tim found a speech therapist for him, so sometimes he will actually say something instead of just writing, and you can actively hear/see the scary Gotham vigilantes crumble every single time.

Danny follows whoever he deems "safe" like a weird glowing duckling. The kid had no idea how the world works and knows it, attaching to family in fear and googling anything and everything to understand. Tim really wants to get the kid help for his anxiety, but Danny is refusing currently. Tim can't really blame him, Danny has so much medical trauma.

The downside of being deemed as "safe" and non judgemental early on is Tim knows the most of the horrible details. It'd not much, but between what Danny has let slip and what he's searched on different mental health and trauma, Tim has a very ugly picture of what happened during his time in the lab. On the plus side, if he's asking questions and trying to work on/understand his mental health, then Tim is sure he'll be willing to see a specialist eventually. Tim is willing to go at Danny's pace and protect the kid as much as possible. He debriefs the rest of the family whenever he discovers a new trauma so no one accidentally triggers Danny into another panic attack. He has far too many of them daily already, and Cass is the best at calming him down, but she's not always available.

A less sad, and more interesting development is Danny's features have been changing from Damian's. Whoever made Danny really fucked up. Genetically he's still a clone of Damian, but visually, he looks like someone tried to draw Damian from memory and decided to make him part fae or something. Danny's eyes faded to a pale celadon blue, his ears are slightly pointed, his teeth are sharper than the should be, he gained freckles that glow Lazarus Pit green when he gets emotional, his hair curled and turned the darkest black Tim has ever seen while also gaining glittering white tuffs throughout, and his constant soft glowing are just a few things that shifted and changed over time. Tim has a theory that Danny has a higher concentration of Lazarus waters in his body than any of his predecessors and that caused him to mutate. Unfortunately, it's just a theory because Danny had a massive panic attack and dissociation episode the one time they tried to draw some of his blood. No one was willing to push it after that. So until Danny is healed enough mentally for it, there will be no tests.

Danny also freaked out and hid in his closet for 3 days straight when he realized how uncanny he's looking. He was terrified they'd hurt him for it or the flickers of developing powers when he's emotionally, which is often, and it took an insane amount of reassurances and bribes to get the kid to come out. Duke was actually the one who got Danny to calm down enough to talk about what he's developed so far. Duke talked about his own powers and how they developed; he's also taken to using them around the manor more to help the baby realize it's okay. It's now fairly common to see both use their powers, even if Danny's usage is still unintentional. Tim wonders if he should ask one of the Martians to help Danny control his, so far Danny has shown invisibility, floating, and phasing through things, he was startled into using them every single time they've manifested. Tim is holding off on contacting anyone yet because Duke and Tim have been double teaming to get Danny comfortable with his powers and making progress.

Plus, Danny regresses every time back into the mute, anxious wreck hiding behind his "safe" person like the first night any time someone new is introduced. So Tim makes sure both Cass and him are present for any introductions. Though, he does think introducing Danny to aliens would go smoother than most others. The kid is absolutely obsessed with everything space related. He lives in space themed clothes and has his own section in the family library because of all the space, physics, and alien culture books he's collected/been gifted. He's read every single one at least twice and is actively trying to learn Martian and Kryptonian, mostly their written language currently since talking is still an ongoing battle. Tim can hardly wait to introduce Danny to Kon.

Speaking of ongoing battles.

"Please, anki, you need a proper name." Damian sounds desperate, "I made a list of names that you can keep your nickname with. Please just pick one."

"Don't wanna." Danny whines quietly. Despite the kid technically being the same physical age as Damian, Danny never acts it, ping-pongs between behaving like literal 4 year old and young teen. Have you tried to tell a 4 year old they need to pick a different name for themselves or stuffed animal or pet or something? It's a battle of patience.

"Please.." Tim blinks as Damian pulls out his saddest puppy eyes. Tim has literally never seen Damian do that. It's not very good, but Danny is the definition of a people pleaser.

"...okay..." Danny reluctantly takes the list from Damian.

"Thank you." Damian gives a small satisfied smile.

"Danny, do you mind if I borrow Damian?" Tim asks in amusement. "Oh, shit!" is clear in Damian's body language, but the lack of real panic in Damian and the teasing vibes Tim is sure he's putting off keeps Danny from panicking. Kid can give Cass a run for her money in reading body language.

"Okay... I'll look at the names while you're gone.." Danny's voice starts fading out by the end of his sentence. Tim expects Danny is going to be mute for the rest of the day. He's come a long way since arriving, but speaking is still hard on him. Tim is positive it's a trauma thing. Another reason to try to convince him to see a therapist.

"We'll be right back." Tim smiles and pulls Damian out of the room and a little ways down the hall. "You taking lessons from the baby?"

"Don't know what you're talking about." Damian grumps.

So Tim puts on his best approximation of the face Damian pulled and in his most pathetic voice goes, "Please..."

Damian turns an interesting shade of red. "Shut up."

"I think it's cute." Tim's face hurts a little from his grinning. He has to shove down the anxiety at that realization, remembering what his own therapist has told him in relation to grinning reminding him of JJ.

"I'll stab you again."

"And upset the baby? Heartless." Tim teases before switching topics. "Do you think you could have Jon visit?"

"Probably, why?"

"I think it's time to introduce Danny to people outside of the family. Jon is a ball of sunshine and an alien, I think he'd be a good start." Tim explains.

"Why not Kon? I'm sure Anki would love to meet a clone like him. Especially one who is an alien and is as different from his template as Danny is to me." Damian points out. "As well as being connected to one of his "security people"."

"I thought about that, but I was also thinking about Jon being closer to his physical age." They discovered Danny has an intense distrust of adults, and while Kon is chronologically closer in age to Danny, he's mentally and physically a 19 year old. He knows Danny will love Kon and vice-versa, but he feels it's worth starting with someone younger.

"... I shall call Jon tonight. I assume Friday after school is acceptable?"

"Yeah, Cass should be hanging out with him all day and I can get off early. Tam knows we got a traumatized baby with separation anxiety." Tim chuckles, "I think she's happy I've been taking care of myself more because of Danny."

"Why have you been doing that?" Damian tilts his head. "It's not a bad thing, but it's out of character."

"I realized I can't be Bruce."

"Wha-?"

"I can't let my worst habits affect a kid that is dependent on my ability to help him figure out his place in the world." Tim feels tired. "How can I help him if I won't help myself?"

"... I see. When you put it that way, I understand." Damian looks thoughtful. "Perhaps I should look into getting a therapist as well."

"I'll send you a list of people I've vetted." Tim says and starts heading back to the room they left Danny in. "Now, let's check on the baby."

Danny is frowning at the list Damian gave him. It's an interesting sight, several names are blacked out with extreme prejudice, and his iPad is opened to the search engine. He seems to be looking up the remaining names' meanings and hating most of them. Any he doesn't hate, he writes the meaning next to with a frown. Tim and Damian occupy themselves while he does this, Danny hates being stared at, especially while working on something.

The silence is broken when Danny crushes the paper. A glance shows he copied 5 of the names and their meanings down in a note app. Danny opens the drawing app he prefers to communicate with while nonverbal.

[I want to think on these. I'll make a decision by dinner tomorrow.]

"Decide on what lastname or names you want and I'll set up a paper trail to prove your identity during the weekend. Damian wouldn't let me or Barb set one up til you picked a "proper" name."

[Ugh! Fine!]

"What do you mean? Anki will have the Wayne last name!"

"Yeah, but he might want mine or Cass's name too. Or maybe he'll decide to take the Al Gul name out of spite." Tim shrugs. "Names have power. Cass and mine would be an extra layer of protection, but he's technically an Al Gul. Kon took the El name to spite Clark and Clark couldn't do shit about it since Kon is technically blood."

"I suppose..." Damian does not look happy about this.

[Your friend's name meanings hope's abomination or false hope?] Danny looks so concerned.

"Yeah. He picked it out himself. He's a clone of Kal-El, better known as Superman or Clark Kent." Tim tries to keep his anger at Clark under wraps, but Danny's weary look tells him he didn't succeed. "Clark and Kon have a better relationship now, but Clark was awful to him for simply existing at first. It's fine for him to feel violated and angry, but it wasn't acceptable that he took it out on a kid who didn't ask to be made."

[Is cloning common?] Danny is intrigued.

"Only in the hero communities. Villains seem to like trying their hand at it. It's hit or miss on how the clone ends up. Some are mindless puppets, some are actually programmed to be an evil version, some literally are just the hero with some "fun" new trauma, and some might be completely unaware their clone statuses. Then there's the clones who know they're clones and are completely different than their DNA donor, but still want to do what's right." Tim explains. "The categories can overlap or a clone can start in one and end up in another."

"Would you be willing to meet Kon-El?"

[Maybe? Is he nice?]

"He's one of Drake's paramours."

"Damian!"

[What's a paramour?]

"He means he's one of my boyfriends." Tim can feel how red his face is.

[Pural???] Danny looks like a whole new realm of possibilities just opened up. It's adorable.

"Yeah, I have 2 boyfriends." Tim smiles, "Having multiple partners is completely fine so long as everyone is in the know and consenting, otherwise that's cheating."

"Stop corrupting my Anki" Damian complains with no heat. And Tim can't let that "challenge" slide.

"Look up the polyamory and being polyamorous, if you want to know more. Also, gender is a lie and sexuality is a mess. Do whatever makes you happy so long as it doesn't hurt you or anyone else." Tim says with the tone of someone commenting on pleasant weather. It makes Danny giggle before he opens the search bar to Google what he can on those three topics, wanting to fill his gap in knowledge. Damian and Tim share a fond look. This isn't nearly the first time Danny went on a research binge after a conversation. He has some vast gaps in his knowledge, and he takes it as a personal challenge every time he finds a new hole. It's admirable and adorable to see him so enthusiastic about learning. He has an air of child-like wonder, even if he dislikes the topic.

"Before we lose you to the allure of learning, anki, I'd like to ask if you'd be alright if I brought my best friend over after school on Friday?" Danny looks at Damian in surprise. Tim jumps in.

"His name is Jon, he's kryptonian and Kon's sort of brother and/or nephew. He's Clark's son, but he's always been accepting of Kon, so he'll be nice to you. Especially since Damian cares about you." Danny cautiously studies them before nodding. "Awesome. I plan to be home before them and Cass will definitely be here all day, so if something happens, we will be here."

Danny looks relieved.

"Now, enjoy your research."

[surfeitstar]

reflections - iwaizumi hajime x reader

blended social media au with written pieces

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

pairing — f!reader x iwaizumi hajime (post timeskip)

tags! — modern au, BLENDED smau, post timeskip au, fluff, slowburn-ish, angst/comfort, crack, second chance, exes to lovers, older brother’s best friend, might be ooc, mentions of alcohol, intoxication, smoking, swearing, hookups (nothing explicit), divorce, panic & anxiety attacks, overthinking, occasional questionable humour, fencer!reader, reader is oikawa’s younger sister, kys jokes, sexual jokes, mentions of having anxiety, anxiety medication [will update if there’s more]

status — ongoing!

sypnosis — you don’t care about the messy breakup that happened in high school with your older brother’s best friend, he doesn’t bother you anymore, you think— especially not after years of no contact with him. all you care about is your sport; fencing. you’ve just been selected to represent japan for the olympics in your final year of university, and you couldn’t have been more excited at the opportunity. there’s just one slight problem though— the athletic trainer just so happens to be your said ex boyfriend.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

introductions ❀༉‧₊˚

emotional support group || tooru hateclub

.𖥔 ‧₊˚ ⋅ જ ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑ chapters!

🌀 — includes written portions!

chapter 1 — acquainted

chapter 2 — get over it 🌀

chapter 3 — awkward

bonus #1 — past curfew 🌀

chapter 4 — behind the scenes

chapter 5 — familiar 🌀

chapter 6 — torture

chapter 7 — my behalf

chapter 8 — don’t i? 🌀

bonus #2 — jealous 🌀

chapter 9 — not really

chapter 10 — me too. 🌀

chapter 11 — messy

chapter 12 — not slick

chapter 13 — water bottle

chapter 14 — deaduzz?

bonus #3 — sick 🌀

chapter 15 — not jealous

chapter 16 — handcuffs

chapter 17 — we shouldn’t 🌀

chapter 18 — can i breathe

chapter 19 — blame

chapter 20 — falling apart

chapter 21 — tba…

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

a/n — ‘bonus’ chapters are actually flashback chapters (please read them.) also taglist is closed!

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

thanks for reading! all characters belong to haikyuu, all writing belongs to surfeitstar, please do not repost without permission. reblogs are greatly appreciated:) — ©️ 2025

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐲 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ you saw Abby almost killing Joel, ran through the frozen woods, believing he was dead, your get attacked by infected, only to wake up to a much worse scenario, Joel was taking care of you, with no mobility in one leg, a deformed face and the need to never let go of his wife.

warnings_ age gap (implied late 20s but you can ignore that), GORE, HEAVY ANGST, reader vomits and faints, fallacy references, canon divergence, medical inaccuracies in the following parts, anxiety, overthinking, trauma, panic attack, short part and no proofreading.

Notes_ JOEL IS NOT DEAD, HE GOT UP FOR HIS WIFE AND KIDS

「 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐲: 𝐑𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 」 (part one)

「 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 」 (part two, which this fic belongs to)

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 Pedro

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

In the morning, after breakfast, Joel and you went out on patrol. Since the moment you woke up, your heart was pounding already.

Your hand was placed near your heart, as the other was doing everything to keep riding your beloved horse; star.

“Is everything okay?” Joel asks, riding beside you.

“I think I’ve been feeling some arrhythmia since I woke up…”

“Do you think your anemia is back?” He asks, worriedly.

“I don’t know, love” your voice showed some defeat for some reason.

Your health had improved since you arrived in Jackson five years ago. You looked healthy, even in shape after many patrols, hunting, and escapades with your family. Maria had been strict about you going to a doctor each year to check on your blood tests and cross out any anomalies. You would live with many issues, but you doubted you’d ever touch base like you did almost a decade ago in Boston.

After giving birth to Cerise, you promised to be healthy for your baby. And each time you had to leave her, your heart ached.

You constantly look back at Jackson. Worried and hoping that the drill was over.

“Cerise is going to be fine, baby,” Joel says, knowing you were worried about the little girl.

Joel loved his daughter, he was beyond overprotective with her. But he trusted Tommy, Maria, and his friends. Dina swore to take care of Cerise during the drill and that relieved both you and Joel.

“Yeah, she’s safe no matter what…” you say trying to convince yourself.

But your face demonstrated you were not pleased at all. Joel also knew his wife was protective of her family. So the best he could attempt to do was to distract you.

“You look very pretty today,” Joel said with a playful smile. He was trying to get you in a calm mood despite the worry of the drill, the snowstorm, and Ellie likely in a different patrol.

“You think so?” There was nothing special about your look that day.

Loose jeans, boots, a black turtleneck top with a heavy jacket, and earmuffs.

“Yeah, baby” The way he eye fucked you set your cheeks on fire.

As the years passed, Joel grew confused. When Ellie distanced from him, you and him separated for two months. After getting back together, he had been debating whether to return to his usual loving self he grew out to be after couple therapy or not. But you had proven him to be willing to be just as doting as he could be.

“Love you!” You said, blowing a kiss to him.

“I love you too, dear,” Joel said back.

It didn’t matter how much your body changed over the years if you grew your hair long or decided to cut it short. Whether it was summer or winter, Joel Miller would cherish you every single day. Even on the worst possible day, your husband would always come back to you.

…

Joel had grown trustful. It wasn’t a coincidence that the moment he took the hand of the random woman about to be eaten by the infected, your heart started pounding faster.

You said no when she offered to take you both to the place she had spent the night, but Joel made you a sign with his head that it was okay.

Now, you are being held by two people, looking at Joel and his bleeding knee, fearing the worst.

Who the fuck was Abby? And why she was so mad at your husband?

“She’s the wife? Attractive too” she says eyeing you with a fake smirk.

“Aren’t you a little too young for an old man like him?” You could kill her, but she was a stranger, whom you couldn’t feel anything towards.

But she revealed the truth, giving you flashbacks of Salt Lake City. And how the fireflies were going to experiment with you and your unborn child.

You don’t say anything, you barely eye her, the only thing that made you have some click with her was that she also lost her family at a young age.

“How could you marry a cruel man like him? Let alone let him give you a child?” Your eyes snapped open at the mention of Cerise. “Your daughter is not of my concern”

Joel wants to run and tell you it’s going to be fine, but seeing your bloody face and fingers purple and swollen, he started to feel like that was it.

“Answer me. Why him?” Abby asked, standing in front of you. She was taller than you; just a few years younger.

“He unfairly ruined your life. But he saved mine…” her bitter smile turned into a chuckle full of hate.

“I bet he did,” she said before turning back to Joel.

You could understand her pain, but she would never know all the things you endured.

You don’t give a fuck whatever the woman is saying, you just exchange looks with Joel and he was trying to calm you, but you couldn’t feel anything but panic.

To her, Joel ruined her life, but he saved yours. Joel was your savior and the reason why you had everything you always wanted. You refused to let her take that away from you.

But there wasn’t much you could do to stop it. You couldn’t do anything and that was killing you. Time was passing so rapidly and so slowly at the same time.

Her hand touched his forehead like she was trying to prove one last time that it was real, that she would get her desired revenge. You started squirming when the woman started beating Joel.

“I sympathize with your daughter, Joel” she whispered in his ear. “She will also know what it feels to lose her father”

His screams and groans of pain started mixing with your sobs. He tried to crawl away but it was useless. You turned to see Ellie entering the room, soon a man throws her to the floor and you yelp.

“ELLIE!” The girl looks at you horrified, even terrified of the sight. Her head starts rambling, trying to do something, but she can’t.

The woman and man holding at you were failing to keep you still. Nothing had prepared you to see the horrific sight of Joel covered in blood, his face swollen and barely breathing.

Your screams were bothering everyone, giving them heartache for the future widow and single mother you were gonna be.

“JOEL!” You yell his name over and over. Your heart, mind and soul breaking each time more and more.

“PLEASE! HE’S MY HUSBAND!” You begged over and over as more blood pooled around the man you loved. “STOP! PLEASE, JUST STOP!”

“We should’ve sedated her,” said one of the girls in the group, but nobody answered her.

One guy entered the room panicked and everyone turned to look at him.

“The horde is coming this way” everyone panicked.

But Abby hadn’t finished until the same guy went to grab her by the waist.

“ABBY, IT’S OVER! HE’S DEAD” He screamed at her. “WE HAVE TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOW!”

“RUN, Y/N!” you heard Ellie screaming at you. Then you realize they’ve let you go, probably because they got scared after the news of the horde.

Your tears didn’t let you give Joel one last glance before you started running towards the door after the man and woman holding you flickered in panic due to the situation.

“Let her go. She will live to tell the tragedy of her husband” Abby said to her mates after they tried to go after you. “Let’s go!”

Your boots were sinking in the snow, it was nearly impossible to run.

You started hearing the screams and grunts of the infected. Your hands clumsily pull out your walkie talkie and you try to reach out for somebody.

“TOMMY?” nothing, not a single glitchy sound of hope. “TOMMY! Do you copy me? Please…”

It was too much to handle. Your tears couldn’t stop, blinding your vision, the beating of your heart pounded and you could hear it.

As you ran, the pain of having just lost your husband assaulted you. You couldn’t say goodbye. You couldn’t grab his corpse to give him a proper funeral.

If Jackson was alive, you’d return to an empty house, where you’d raise Cerise… without his father.

You ran away without looking back for Cerise and Ellie. For them and only them.

You started hearing a ringing in your ears, your arms felt heavy and before you could control your body, you fell on your knees to vomit, with your eyes hurting and still squeezing more tears.

You scream.

Everything you wished for had been taken away from you twice.

You sob loud enough to draw the attention of some infected. What was once a pair of two women a teenager run after you. But you aren’t able to run so far.

They tackle you and start biting your body as you scream and cry. You feel them sinking their teeth in your skin, wounding like sharp knives. You feel how two of your fingernails are pulled off and how the fingers begin to go numb.

At that moment, you started closing your eyes. You swore your life flashed before your eyes. Every moment of happiness in your life appeared in your eyes. Your family made you happy. The one that brought you the world and the one you started on your own. You thank having the chance to experience being a mother with Cerise and Ellie and you thank life for pairing you with Joel.

And the last thought that ran through your head before losing consciousness, was that you despised death, but you weren’t afraid of it.

…

Your eyes snap open and you are blinded by the sun. You want to move but you can’t. As your vision starts gaining light, your head also gains sense.

You can’t breathe, it hurts to fill your lungs with air. You don’t feel your left hand and all of your extremities burn.

You are at the entrance of the gold club. But how did you get there if you ran down the hill the day before?

You hear a pair of boots and your head turns alert.

A figure gets closer, limping and taking a very long time to sit beside you.

You force your eyes to focus, but when a pair of hands start caressing your face, tears start running through your cheeks.

“Oh my god! Joel!” you can barely focus your mind and gaze on him.

“We’re alive…” it’s all he said, with a dry voice. You feel his hands holding yours but you are very disoriented to properly identify his touch.

His face is swollen. There was a lot of dry blood across his face, some of his hair frozen along more blood, his under eye purple and black.

He had broken his skull.

More tears pool in your eyes as you try to reach his face to touch it. He gently pushed your hand away. The air wasn’t enough after doing that movement.

“Joel… I think my ribs are broken” you said, noticing it’s taking a lot of strength to breathe and talk.

“Breathe slowly,” Joel says.

Tears start flowing down your cheeks as rage invades you.

Your husband was hurt, you were hurt. Your babies were gone from your side.

You can’t understand what’s happening.

“I can’t do this,” you say between sobs, feeling like your ribs are going to explode. “Not again…” you start mumbling, feeling exhausted even though you had just opened your eyes.

“We’re alive, Ellie and Cerise are alive too” Joel repeats. “It’s all that matters…”

You see Joel’s deformed face because of the swollen areas covered in blood, his left eye barely visible and his hair a mess of blood and frozen sweat. You cry harder, feeling an unbearable pain flowing all across your body, shattering your soul.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere” you sob harder at his words, ignoring the excruciating pain in your ribs.

Once again, you have been traumatized. Just like the time you woke up after having to kill your family when they got infected. You feel your legs are bandaged and you wonder how long had passed since you were bitten and had fainted. You have so many questions. And you can’t wait to feel better to have a proper conversation. Although it would only make knowledge of the tragedy that had happened.

You have lost your family. Your husband was barely alive, you were nearly dying.

You never thought you would experience so much misery since you killed your family. You feared this time was worse. Your husband was excruciatingly wounded, you were dying if you didn’t stop crying.

And that would be a problem. The waves of agony were taking you, threatening to drown you to death. Even if Joel was alive, breathing by your side, the image of him being hit and punched would never leave your mind, the image of Jackson in flames, knowing Cerise was there and knowing Ellie was somewhere else, it was more than enough to shatter you once again.

The days would pass and you knew the tears would not stop. But the thought of Joel being alive and breathing made you realize, you could bear it.

Your agony would not kill your hopes of restoring your family. At that point, nothing could be worse.

“Stop crying or I’m losing you, y/n”

“Never,” you say through sobs and huffs of pain. “You’re not losing me, Joel”

Joel can’t articulate any expression on his face. But you know he tried to smile.

He was breaking your heart by being alive.

______________

I cried the whole time I was taking a shower after watching episode two 🚬

Taglist: @just-mj-or-not @mmkkzz @hiroikegawa @nosebeers @glitterspark (tell me if u want to be added or removed from masterlist)

[lay-z]

Another Johnny blurb :) A bit of folklore in this.

After barely surviving and recovering from a gunshot to the head by Makarov, Johnny is sent on medical leave, back to live on his elderly parents' farm in Scotland.

Now blind in his left eye and with the decline of his hearing, he keeps himself busy as best as he can helps taking care of the farm animals around, tends to the large pond in the spacious backyard and catches up with some old friends.

However, now suffering from nervous anxiety, Johnny picks up hiking as his new favourite pastime, needing to get away from the hubbub of his hovering family more than ever; his injury causing him excruciating headaches and, if he's particularly unlucky, panic attacks.

He takes his new journal on his hikes, buys a few more pencils (in case one breaks while he's out again), and finds the most bonnie places to catch a break and either sketch away or write down his memories because he doesn't quite trust his brain anymore.

One day, after hiking down a new path he found on a yellowed map from his late gran'da, Johnny finds a dale straight out of a fairytale.

Honey-bright rays of sunshine break through the surrounding treetops of willows, rowans, and copper beeches, shrouding the scenery in a myriad of shades of yellow and green while the local fauna goes about its merry day, ignoring Johnny like he's just another lost intruder stumbling upon the place.

And Johnny feels drawn to the overflowing creek after the earlier summer downpour, finds a cluster of moss-covered rocks, and decides to take a well-deserved break until his good right eye catches sight of someone already occupying the spot.

A woman clad in something he can only describe as... historical. The dress she wears is dripping with water, her wet hair sticking to her equally dewy skin, an aura of mystery and sorrow surrounding her as she sits there all by herself.

"Oi, miss? Ye shouldnae be around here by yerself. Ye need help find yer way back?"

You glance at him over your shoulder, and Johnny bristles, pulled forward, and screamed at to run by his most primal instincts simultaneously. At first, he doesn't even notice the sudden eerie silence surrounding him, blames it on his bad ears, but there is no more chirping and bird songs only the trickling of the nearby stream gently rushing in his ears.

Steamin' Jesus, she's beautiful. Hauntingly breathtaking that one. A wee bit strange perhaps, he thinks, but

"Death clings to ye, lad," you tell him matter-of-factly, tilting your head as you regard him with murky yet curious eyes, "and he'll come fer ye again."

Your nonchalant remark, spoken so sweetly, nearly knocks him onto his knees like a physical blow. The grip on his leatherbound journal tightens, knuckles whitening as he takes panting breaths to rid himself of the bile suddenly rising in his throat.

It's then he knows what you are, and while Johnny has lost his youthful wonder and believe of his own countries folklore, he can't help but believe that you must be a bean-nighe, a washerwoman.

An omen of death.

"N-no," Johnny croaks out, eyes widening with disbelief and fear before shaking his head so harshly, it worsens the headache already sneaking up on him. "Tha's not true! Tha's not Tha's not possible. I'm home! I'm safe here!"

Then, the softest smile lifts the corner of your mouth, and your buried maternal instinct makes you want to reach out to soothe his worries while he's already scrambling clumsily to get a grip.

"You'll see, sweet man," you snicker, standing up to watch him run, leaving your valley. "We will meet again."

And how was Johnny supposed to know that you simply wanted tell him about missing Simon's phone call? He didn't even give you a chance to clarify.

Ghoap x spirit!Reader ? Or perhaps I should make her a pixie :)

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

🐣Freestyle Astrology Observations 🐣

Aries Sun’s will always want to be perceived as unique and different.

Taurus Sun’s can be cheap and meticulous with money.

Gemini Sun’s can become very dogmatic about religion if they believe in it.

Cancer Sun’s can be either serial daters, always in a relationship or just the opposite and never date or in a relationship.

Leo Sun’s can act like they are loners

Virgo Sun’s can be very into new age spirituality, tarot, numerology, astrology.

Libra Sun’s can either be very picky with who they date or date whoever gives them attention.

Scorpio Sun’s can give people chance after chance. It’s as if when they say they’re done it isn’t true.

Sagittarius Sun’s can be so pessimistic when life isn’t in their favor. They can be chronic complainers.

Capricorn Sun’s can be very mean. I mean they can say nasty things without even seeing the impact of their words. But they also seem to always have some struggle in life ( medical issues, drug addicts, losing a parent, going bankrupt or losing a lot of money, traumatic childhood).

Aquarius Sun’s can either come across as dry and boring or unique and exciting.

Pisces Sun’s are the sign I feel that people can often mistaken for another sign.

Aries Rising’s can attract a lot of negative attention or unwanted criticism.

Taurus Risings can be perceived as having money even when they don’t.

Gemini Risings can be recognized by their voice

Cancer Rising may go through a lot of changes in their life, moving around, different partners, different workplace.

Leo Risings may feel like people are always looking at them or they can just feel very exposed

Virgo Risings can over analyze their own thoughts or constantly be in their head about everything they do.

Libra Rising can either be focused on making themselves look so good ( physically) or making their life look so good ( career, house, car, relationship, family).

Scorpio Risings can experiment with their sexuality a lot in this lifetime or find that the end of their relationships drastically change the trajectory of their lives.

Sagittarius Risings can become guru’s, sages, spiritual leaders, or life coaches.

Capricorn Risings can often be the person in the family who breaks generational curses or steps up to make sure the family succeeds or takes care of family.

Aquarius Risings can be the ones to change their family tree, do something different, no children, more children than others in the family, different race children. They are the odd child or person in their family.

Pisces Risings can be seen as innocent or misjudged incorrectly, may project an image that isn’t true or may see other people this way.

Aries Moon’s may struggle to grasp how they truly feel and they can also feel their emotions make them volatile.

Taurus Moon’s can be fake deep.

Gemini Moon’s can do best at expressing their feelings through poetry, story telling, blogging, writing in a diary or journal or texting friends.

Cancer Moon’s can be subject to change how they feel about anything or anyone all of the time. Also extremely absorbent of others emotions.

Leo Moon’s can find it hard to hide how they truly feel.

Virgo Moon’s can find themselves interested in people and things that they are emotionally attached to.

Libra Moon’s can become shopaholics and find it hard to put in hard work.

Scorpio Moon’s deal with intense and extreme emotions and often no one knows how much they’re struggling.

Sagittarius Moon’s may have a lot of friends because they boost people’s self-esteem and motivate others.

Capricorn Moon’s can come across as somber and need to feel needed.

Aquarius Moon’s can have moments where their emotions become chaotic and uncontrollable. Sudden outbursts, rage, panic attacks, anxiety, meltdowns, hyperventilating.

Pisces Moon’s can feel easily disturbed and need healthy environments to thrive or they become delusional and negative.

Personal Observations

• Leo women can have other women jealous of them and it’s usually either because of the attention they get or some physical feature they have.

• Pisces can be extremely influenced by their siblings or close relatives. Say they have a cousin or older brother that is a certain way, they end up following in their footsteps.

• Capricorn women can dish it, but can’t take it.

• Leo men easily become “ lover boys”.

• Leo men can also lie straight to you in your face and not even blink an eye.

• Sagittarius women relationships never last. They always fall hard even if they play hard to get but they just don’t last.

• Scorpio men have this deep desire to gain power through money. They are the kind of people willing to do what it takes to ensure they’re successful.

• Libra women can have a lot of friends that they dislike are or jealous of.

• Also, I find that Libra’s usually end up being LGBTQIA+.

• Cancer men love when a woman chases after them or does the initiating.

• Cancer men also can be users especially when they aren’t over their ex.

• I find that Scorpio men’s persistence at times is a detriment in dating. For their goals, it can help them get to where they want to be, but with love it can make them frustrated and end up going for the person they didn’t have to chase after.

• I find that Gemini men often date out of curiosity. They don’t have to particularly be into you; but if you intrigue them in anyway they will play around with the idea of “dating” you.

• Scorpio women can be a “ girls girl” the most when they’re single. When they’re in a relationship they can be a “ pick- me”.

• I feel like Virgo men are either dysfunctional, chaotic, and mean or orderly, goal-oriented and kind.

• Aries men are looking for their soulmate, woman of their dreams, their other half. When they meet a woman they feel that way towards they can become delusional.

• Aries men also love people they can mentally connect with. They can be so talkative with the right people and dead quiet with people they don’t fuck with.

• Pisces men are so good at making you fall in love with them. It’s like they have the cheat code. Which is why I think they are hated so much because they end up breaking hearts.

• Leo women always seem to have a type. They’re also low key delusional.

• Capricorn men love women, but they always end up in drama dealing with women.

• I feel like Sagittarius women have a lot of pride

• Cancer women can become so engrossed in a man. It’s not even delusional because they know it’s not healthy, but they always choose partners that they have to struggle with.

[ask-an-epidemiologist]

Why "COVID anxiety" is not an actual disorder

In psychiatric terms, a phobia is considered as such if, and only if, it is unreasonable. So, an average person experiencing panic attacks at the sight of bees would be considered to have a phobia, because they are more afraid than the risk bees present to them.

However, a person with a fatal allergy to bee stings would not be considered apiphobic. This is because, with the risk of death bees present to them, having panic attacks is considered a rational reaction.

I'm sure you can already understand my point.

COVID not only can kill you (particularly if you're medically vulnerable), but it can cause severe disability. Even ignoring that people who have had COVID in the last three weeks are 81 times likelier to die of cardiac events than uninfected people, survivors of COVID are also 40% likelier to develop neurological sequelae. Rates of POTS or other dysautonomias (dysfunctions of the autonomous nervous system, which can be anywhere from "uncomfortable" to "rendering a patient bedridden") are through the roof, and neurologists are finding huge increases in the under-45 demographic of their dementia patients- a demographic that was previously extremely rare.

If someone wears protective eyewear while welding because they don't want to be blinded by an arc flash, we consider that a normal and reasonable precaution. So why are people who mask being labeled as "anxious about COVID" considering that this virus will very likely disable them if not kill them outright?

"COVID anxiety" is a rational behavior, not a medical diagnosis- so why are we treating it as one? Simple: it's another politicization of medicine. Just as "hysteria" was used to silence women, and lobotomization was used to subjugate inconvenient people (especially of rival political affiliations), "COVID anxiety" is being used to silence those who refuse to cooperate with the false narrative that COVID is over and/or no big deal. The very sight of a mask is a stark reminder to medical officials and laymen alike that they should be doing something they aren't. It's why some doctors aren't even "letting" chemo patients, one of the most severely immunocompromised demographics, do this. Because even though they are carefully avoiding a lot more illnesses than COVID, the sight of the mask still makes the doctor think of the COVID precautions they are ignoring first and foremost.

That is to say, "COVID anxiety" is a punitive diagnosis made by doctors when they are angry at the discomfort they feel when their patients remind them of their utter inadequacy, and they created this solely to stigmatize and demean patients to ensure they wouldn't subvert the expected power dynamic again.

Zero competent medical professionals actually use this terminology for their patients, and if yours uses it for you, run, don't walk, to a new clinic. Helping you is a secondary goal at best for your doctor.

[priyajoyy]

do you have any more hc of bunny and the others precrash

esp with her anxiety and how the team help

Ofcc!! Just wrote these on the train because I had some ideas

Hope you like what I’ve come up with <3

I’ve focused mainly on Lottie, Nat, Shauna and van but all the girls are aware and help where they can

Bunny anxiety hcs

🐇 Lottie is always on top of bunny’s medication

🎀 their schedules for taking meds are basically the same so she’s always keeping on top of when bunny needs to take them and making sure she does

🍸 she’s one of bunny’s closest friends and who bunny opens up to about her issues the most given they can bond about it

🎟️ she’s always one of the first ones on her when somethings wrong

🎻 she got bunny a bracelet that she wears every day to fiddle with if she gets anxious to try help her with picking at her nails

🛵 and she’s always offering up her hands for bunny to hold

🧸 all the girls are aware of and helpful with bunny’s anxiety

🍓 but Shauna, van, Lottie and Nat are the most aware of it all

🎧 bunny doesn’t like when stuff goes against plan

🪵 Shauna is the best at trying to keep bunny’s schedule the same

💌 she’ll join her inbetween lessons on the same days each week and is hyper aware that she’s never late to meeting bunny so bunny doesn’t stress

🍰 she’s alwaysssss early to pick her up in the morning or meet up for plans

🎫 she’s very big on holding bunny’s hands

🕯️even more so than Lottie

⚰️ always letting her fiddle with her fingers or touch her somehow to keep her grounded and distract her from tearing up her own fingers instead

🧚🏻 I can also see her scrapbooking with bunny constantly

💅 both of them on the floor of bunny’s bedroom with journals and paper surrounding them while bunny meticulously documents and plans her life and Shauna rages in her journal

👒 Shauna will never do much special in hers and bunny will force her to add stickers and pretty paper to it to make it all pretty

👛 (bunny definitely has millions of stickers she’s collected over the years but doesn’t use any of them unless she has duplicates because she’s terrified of wasting them)

🎞️ Natalie prefers to help out silently

⭐️ she’s more of an observer and we already know she keeps bunny at arms lengths before the crash so she’ll not do much that bunny’s actually aware of

🍒 but she’s the first to try calm the girl down if she has a panic attack, or quietly hint at her to remember her medicine

🕊️ and if anyone ever questions it, she’ll play it off as nothing

🧁 she just wanted to get on with the soccer game and can’t do that fi bunny is freaking out it doesn’t mean anything???

☕️ she’s also so so sweet with her when she knows she’s stressed

🪽she’s so good at working out bunny’s tells and realising if somethings wrong and she’s quick to adjust to it without it being too noticeable

🩰 she has a softer voice with bunny than anyone else especially during these times

🧺 and she keeps everyone quiet to keep bunny calm and plays it off as just having a headache and wanting everyone to shut the fuck up

🍨her main way of helping is offering bunny a cigarette or a lighter to light one

🍪 she doesn’t have to speak to her but she knows she’s helping her destress (even if it’s not the best method though who is Nat to judge)

🍦 and no one can make a big deal about it cause, it’s just a cigarette?

📺 van isnt as naturally as good with dealing with bunny’s problems and anxiety as the others are

🥞 she’s leant how to help her and knows the basic stuff but she’s tends to get pretty stressed out about it and panics

🦢 that being said she definitely tries to help

🪷 she’s the best at distracting her, making her laugh and chatting to her about other things while she’s having panic attacks

🍒 but van gets a lot better once they’re in the wilderness because there’s not as many others to help bunny out instead

🍥 plus she’s off her meds and in a very stressful situation so her anxiety is a lot worse

🐏 so she knows she needs to because bunny needs it and she wants to help her friend

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hi, so I'm not really sure how to ask this idk, it feels very personal and maybe tmi, and I guess it depends on one's level of bottom dysphoria, but basically, do you (or anyone else who wants to share) have any advice or anything with how to cope with having to go through a physical exam for bottom stuff/ a pap smear for the first time?

I'm asking this as someone who has and always has had severe bottom dysphoria to the point that I've never done anything with those parts and literally never even touched myself. I've just lived painfully aware that I have that stuff but simultaneously pretending as much as possible that I don't. So just the thought of "having to" get that done, being touched there by someone etc, makes me sick and gives me anxiety and I just full on do not want to do that. Ever. But apparently I have to if I'm ever gonna get a hysto, which I really really want.

So now I just feel like it's lose/lose. Either I have to let someone touch me in a way that just thinking about me makes me sick, or I can never get a part of transition that I've been wanting forever since I was kid and learned about my anatomy.

And I just.. mentally, emotionally, physically in every way just really don't know how to deal with that.

I guess it's not that big of a deal for people who don't have bottom dysphoria or not that much of it, and honestly sometimes I feel kinda alone (and almost guilty? Like it's wrong somehow?) in how extremely uncomfortable I am with bottom stuff compared to how I've seen other people be chill with it, but yeah.. idk what to do or how to cope with this.

Don't feel bad about feeling bad -- I may like my dick, but that hole gives me panic attacks and I'm not looking forward to my own exam coming up soon. I worry every time that I am going to kick someone in the face by accident. :/

A pelvic exam/pap is not required to begin HRT, but you will need one for most hystos. Plus, it's just good preventative care. Also, if you are young enough, get your HPV vaccine (a 2 shot series, iirc) to help prevent cervical cancer.

Things that have helped me during gyn exams:

Take the entire day off, if you can. Have a treat set up for after your appointment.

Go with a friend, if possible. They may not be able to be with you in the exam room, but they can at least drive you and wait for you.

Be firm that this is hard for you and anything they can do to make it easier will be helpful.

Put your shirt back on after the breast exam. I don't take "no" for an answer here. Having an extra bit of clothing on makes me feel better.

Ask for the "pediatric" speculum -- it's smaller and won't hurt as bad. Insist on it.

Have something you can grip to take your focus off below.

If they want to do a sonogram, refuse the transvaginal one. Do it the old fashioned way, which will require drinking a lot of water. They can deal.

Don't be embarrassed if your self-care afterwards requires crying, or similar. This is an exhausting thing to do, no matter how brave a face you put on in the exam room. I usually just crawl back into bed to sleep it off.

Above all, never take comments like "just man up" or whatever from the medical team. If that happens, be mean back, or simply get up, get dressed, and leave. Find someone else if you have to.

Scripts I have used. Workshop your own and practice them:

"This is my first time. I'm worried this will be a very uncomfortable exam physically and emotionally for me and I would appreciate anything you can do to make it easier. It helps me if you explain everything as we go."

"I do not have penetrative sex, so would like to try the smallest speculum lubed up best you can."

"I am going to put my shirt back on. It will help me be calmer for the rest of the exam."

If they are rude: "You are being unkind and I will walk out of here and find another provider if this attitude continues."

If they insist on a transvag sonogram: "I will only do an external sonogram. We can schedule it another day for me to prep, or give me time to drink the necessary water." (This is hard, btw -- it is enough water to make you vomit.)

Do whatever mental larping you need to do to get through it all. It's important to psych yourself up so you can control as much as possible. Remember, you can stop things whenever you want. If they are mean, all bets are off.

If you're like me, it will suck, but please try not to put it off. But getting through it means you can tackle anything else related to transition, should you go that route. Seriously, if you can do this, you are fucking golden. Take care. <3

(Additional stories/advice are welcome from folks, being trans masc not required!)

[pomefioredove]

Heyyy! I love your writing so so much :) I was wondering if you could write headcanons for how vil and rook (plus any other characters you might wanna write for!) would react to yuu struggling with a panic disorder or just having panic attacks in general. i’ve been curious how the whole “transported to another world” thing would work with someone who takes meds. like i wonder if they would use magic to help with anxiety or plants? i’m not sure but I’m interested to hear your thoughts!🤍 p.s if you’re not comfortable writing about this, i more than understand! have a nice day :))

oh, of course!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ reader who has panic attacks

type of post: headcanons characters: vil, rook additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

while there may be no version of the medication you had at home, Vil is still willing to find you an equivalent

he has access to the best doctors and psychiatrists available, of course

and he'd rather you feel happy and safe than not

of course, it's your choice

and he's a creative man

that is, he has lots of options for you

it just depends on what you prefer. meditation, breathing exercises, he even has some teas with calming effects

he's prepared

...after all, Vil is not a paragon of mental health himself

and he's no stranger to panic attacks

he'll reassure you that it's nothing to be ashamed of, and he wants to help however he can

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rook may have less resources, but he's no less determined

anything you need, you'll have it

he will find a way

he learns to recognize the earliest signs of an attack

and he's especially attentive in triggering places/situations/et cetera

he's adaptable, too, though!

always prepared to drop everything and get you somewhere safe

no matter where you are or what you're doing

he's quite serious about it, after all

when he loves, he loves strongly, and you and your safety are most important to him

[littlelovelunette]

Hi I’m sorry I think this is gonna be a long one😭 so recently I decided to change college course (from a medical course to a computer science course) and I haven’t started in my new school yet and I’m getting super anxious on starting in a new school. So I just found out that there are people I used to know who goes there (from high school and other ex-friends) and it makes me anxious and scared knowing that I’m gonna see them again… I had a panic attack when I found out and no one was there to ground me or anything…

I was wondering if I could have sevika and vi (separately) with a fem!reader who’s going through the same thing? I’m sorry I began trauma dumping or something…🥺🥺😭

Change Is Necessary

Anxiety, panic attacks

⋆₊˚ SEVIKA ⋆₊˚

You were a wreck tonight. Leg bouncing as you overthought everything that could potentially go wrong because of your course change. The room felt too small, and the air felt too dry. You couldn't almost breathe because of the anxiety you were under. Your stomach was twisting in knots, doing backflips but you couldn't make it stop. If anything, trying to calm down by doing the things you usually did like scrolling through your phone mindlessly only was making you feel worse than before and you didn't know how to stop it.

"Hey, sweetheart," Sevika walked into the room, putting her phone on the wardrobe as she turned to face you, "I heard."

Sevika was dressed in a beige sweater, and some taupe colored pants. She had been out to run some errands and she told you she'd take a while to get back. You would've been surprised because she was relatively early but you didn't have the strength to worry about other things.

"Heard what?" You asked, trying your best to ensure your voice didn't shake.

"About your course change." Sevika sat down next to you and placed a gentle hand on your thigh, squeezing it slightly as if to remind you you were never alone. "How are you holding up?"

You shook your head, averting your gaze to your lap, hands fumbling with the fabric of the hem of your skirt.

"I'm not ready to face them."

"Them?"

Sevika shifted so she could fold one leg, facing you on the edge of the bed. Her hand was still resting on your thigh, a concerned look behind those usually steely grey eyes.

"My highschool 'friends'." You said bitterly.

You hadn't had the best upcoming with the friends you made in highschool mainly because you resented them somewhere deep down in your chest. You tried not to make a big deal about it when you were around those very friends because you were afraid they would label you 'overdramatic' if you did. And you didn't want drama during your highschool years, you just wanted to get it over with and move into college. But it wasn't turning out all that well.

Sevika knew about these friends of yours who only knew you whenever they needed something or when they wanted to hang out. But when it was with you? When you had issues, they often pushed you away or brought up how their own lives were miserable.

You hated them for that but didn't have any courage of cutting them off because you had no other friends other than them.

"Oh, sweetheart," Sevika pulled you closer to herself, letting your body shake against her big, steady frame. She was always your emotional support anchor.

She never let you go during times you felt overwhelmed and was there when your friends treated you horribly for speaking out about your mental issues. About your anxiety and overthinking. Sevika had always been there for you through thick and thin. And that's why, you both went to prom together and later on, moved in together.

"You'll be okay, you weren't as strong then, but you are now." Sevika whispered in your ear as she stroked your hair. "You wanna take your mind off of this?"

You nodded with a sigh, "But I can't. I've tried everything."

"Let's bake, then."

"Bake?"

You asked with a laugh, Sevika should've known you were bad in the kitchen and she did. That's why Sevika did all the cooking but yet you wondered why she was asking you to bake with her.

"Yeah, let's go, let's make brownies."

⋆₊˚ VIOLET ⋆₊˚

Vi saw the way you struggled to breathe properly when you walked into the house again, putting your bag down. You'd just been back from all the hustle of your course change in college. Vi knew you were stressed. Even though, she knew you were so, she asked—

"Baby," she wrapped her arms around your shaky frame, pushing her face against the back of your neck, taking a long sniff of your hair, "Are you okay, baby?"

"No, honestly, no," you said and turned around.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you looked at the love of your life, her blue eyes clouded with concern when she pulled you closer. "Oh, darling, what's wrong?"

"I don't wanna go to my new college, there's people, ex-friends!" You buried your face into her chest, fiddling with the button of her shirt as you looked up at her with your teary eyes.

Vi held you tighter, her hands soothing up and down your back as she kissed your temple softly. “Shh, baby… it’s okay,” she whispered, her voice husky and calm. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, y’know? Not with me.”

You let out a shaky breath against her chest, feeling the way her heartbeat slowed yours just a little. “I don’t wanna see them, Vi. I hate how they look at me… like I’m some stranger now.”

Vi nodded slowly, pulling you toward the couch and sitting you on her lap. “They should be strangers. They lost the right to know you the second they stopped treating you right.” She tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, locking eyes with you. “You hear me? You don’t owe anyone a damn thing.”

You tried to speak, but your voice cracked. “What if it’s like before? What if they laugh again?”

Vi’s jaw clenched, her thumb brushing your cheek. “Then I’ll be right there, baby. I’ll walk you to that campus myself if I have to—let ‘em try something.” She cracked a small grin, trying to lift the heaviness in your chest. “You’re not alone anymore, remember?”

That made you sniffle and smile just a little. “You’d beat ‘em up for me?”

Vi chuckled. “Only if you say the word. Otherwise, I’m your bodyguard with killer cheek kisses.” She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your damp cheek. “We’ll get through this together, okay? One day at a time.”

You nodded slowly, curling up tighter against her. With Vi’s arms around you, the world didn’t feel so scary.

[ddarker-dreams]

Idée Fixe.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Warnings: Some not SFW elements, yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, emotional manipulation, depictions of general & social anxiety disorder, depictions of a panic attack, mentions of anxiety medication, Chrollo administers medications to Reader without her consent, and mentions of religion. Also Chrollo just really, really sucks. Word count: 12.3k.

You met a strange man at the arboretum today.

Perhaps you aren’t in a position to describe others as ‘strange’, considering your latest proclivity for expressing earnest thanks to any honey bees you happen across for their service. After much contemplation, however, it’s ultimately the word you arrive at. ‘Strange’ not in a disconcerting sense that inspires fear, but just being out of the ordinary enough to exude an undeniable allure. A raised panel on the floor you stumble over yet suffer no serious injury from. 

Well-kept gardens might be the closest imitation to heaven on earth. That’s what brought you to this little oasis hidden in the desert that is urban life. It’s the type of day romanticists wax poetic about: baby blue skies, puffy clouds, and moderate temperatures with a light, forgiving breeze. 

You situated yourself strategically, so you’d be beneath the shade of a magnolia tree whose pink petals kept fluttering down as if in greeting, and near a patch of daffodils that matched the shade of your gingham dress. Blades of grass tickle your legs, but not unpleasantly so, they scratch an itch found only in nature’s loving reprieve. There’s no thought of upcoming assignments, what to eat for dinner, or if buying that purse you thought was a steal at 30% off was a good idea or not. 

It’s just you and your book. 

Until it isn’t. 

Every woman is connected in the experience that is trepidation whenever a man randomly approaches. There’s no telling his intentions, if he has any. You’re left to smile awkwardly and temporarily realign yourself with religion by praying to a higher deity for his hasty departure. You map out potential escape routes and recall the pepper spray situated in your impulse-bought purse. He gently calls out “Miss”, confirming that he hopes to speak with you. 

At least he has the propriety to stop a few paces from where you sit, electing not to intrude on your personal space. This causes your shoulders to relax. In the few seconds you’ve been made aware of his existence, you recognize his appealing features. He has loose, dark hair, along with wide and seemingly unassuming eyes. His outfit of a dark gray turtleneck accompanied by a black jacket and pants somewhat strikes you as odd, considering spring is in full bloom. Two other details steal your attention away from this; those being the beige wrapping around his forehead and his spherical, turquoise-colored earrings. It’s like he was caught undecided between wanting and not wanting to attract attention. 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he begins. You try not to think about how pleasant his voice sounds. “I’ve been trying to make sense of the directory, but I’ve never been the best with directions. Do you by any chance know how to get to the Starling House?” 

You nod. It’s a quaint, centuries-old mansion, maintained by the non-profit that oversees the flora here. Getting over the initial apprehension from his approach, you try verbalizing the most efficient path to get there. This proves more difficult than you expected since the arboretum is vast and has few waypoints that can be used for reference. Still, throughout your explanation whose unhelpfulness you grow painfully aware of, he patiently nods and makes no attempts to rush you through. 

This willingness to put up with your scattered description wins over your sympathy, pushing you past your sheepishness. 

“I guess I’m not good at giving directions. I could just show you the way, if you’d like.” 

“I’d hate to disturb your reading, but… if it isn’t a bother, I’d certainly appreciate it.” 

You’re already setting your bookmark into place. “It’s no bother. This is my second time reading it, anyway. So don’t worry. I’m not being left off on a cliffhanger or anything.” 

He smiles at that. When you’re preparing to stand, he extends his hand, a gesture that gives you a momentary pause. Well, you are wearing a dress. You suppose it’s the polite thing for him to do. You accept his unspoken offer and he hoists you up without the least bit of exertion on his part. His hand is warm and bigger than yours, slightly coarse too, surprisingly. His immaculate presentation gave you the impression of a trust fund kid or something in that vein. He’s tasteful in ensuring his touch doesn’t overstay its welcome. 

Your heart pounds in your chest. 

You catch a hint of his cologne. Sandalwood, amber, and leather blend together to form a delightfully woody fragrance. As amazing as he smells, you create a little distance, walking ahead motioning for him to follow. His longer legs have no trouble catching up, yet he never creeps too close. 

The short journey that you expect to only be accompanied by the sounds of cardinals chirping and house finches singing is interrupted by the man speaking up again. Oddly enough, you don’t mind. 

“Do you find your thoughts on Prince Myshkin’s initially endearing simple heartedness changed, knowing how the book ends?” 

You pause, taking a moment to realize he must be familiar with the work. This revelation fills you with a tentative giddiness. It isn’t often you have a chance to delve into your literary thoughts to a willing audience. There’s plenty more you could say on the subject, but you try to exercise restraint nonetheless. 

“I thought I might, but I found myself more critical of the other characters instead.” 

“Oh? And why is that?” 

He appears genuinely interested, otherwise, you would’ve kept it at that. 

“Ah, well, maybe it’s that they serve as proof that innocence is never meant to last. Or if it does, it’ll inevitably be punished. There are moments where I feel frustrated with the Prince’s naivety… but then I stop and wonder why it’s so bad to want to see the best in people. Does that speak to a flaw in his character, or to a flaw in the character of others? Maybe it’s both. I can’t help but feel the Prince’s case is more sympathetic.” 

His eyes never leave yours while you give your answer. Heat rises to your cheeks and you internally groan over the prospect of making a stranger listen to your ramblings. He was probably just looking to make casual conversation, not everyone wants an existential crisis on a Saturday afternoon. 

“You must be someone who wants to see the best in people as well,” he surmises. There’s no hint of mockery in his tone — he’s oddly sincere. He says it with a hint of bittersweet nostalgia. 

Before you can hazard a response, you come across a sign displaying information for an event at the Starling House. The building itself lies in waiting atop a hill less than a quarter of a mile ahead. He stops to read it, as do you, operating under the assumption he came here for the event. It seems that they’re displaying historic artifacts from around the area. You suppose this will be where you part ways. You’re about to wish him well when he sighs, the miffed noise stopping you. 

“I got the time wrong,” he frowns, staring at his wristwatch. 

The sign says the event begins at 6:00 p.m. and a quick tap of your phone reveals it’s 4:00. 

“If you’re looking for a way to burn time, there’s a nice garden behind the House that’s always open to the public,” you explain. This piques his curiosity. “If the sage is in bloom, you might get lucky and see some hummingbirds.” 

“That does sound lovely,” he says. Then, his lips quirk up, promising the start of a smile. “Would you care to join me, Miss…?” 

You give him your name and he nods, as if deciding it fits you. 

“[First]. I understand if my tour guide wants to get back to her reading, though.” 

Bashfulness creeps up your back and threatens to sink its fangs into your neck. Your heart’s rhythm takes an erratic cadence. He’s posing the proposition in such a lighthearted way, offering an easy out if you want to take it. You internally weigh your options on a scale that’s worn from overuse. He’s being friendly, you tell yourself. That’s all it is. 

“Well, I guess I’d be a shabby tour guide if I didn’t show you where the gardens are.” 

On the brief walk to the gardens, the man introduces himself as Chrollo. You both situate yourselves on the same stone bench. You sit on the right, he sits on the left. Once again, he leaves you plenty of space, never testing boundaries. The scent of nascent sage wafts in the air. While you scan your surroundings for hummingbirds, he tells you that his work often necessitates travel, hence his unfamiliarity with the area. 

“Does it ever get lonely?” You ask, not thinking much of it. He gives you a look you can’t quite place, so you elaborate. “Traveling all the time, I mean.” 

He tilts his head, more inquisitive than offended. “What makes you think it’d be lonely?” 

“I just think I’d get homesick after a while, always being in an unfamiliar place. I’d miss my family and friends.” 

When he continues staring at you in silence with those unreadable eyes, you swear you want to slam your head repeatedly against a wall. Not everyone has a good relationship with their family or people to call their friends. The weight of your potential insensitivity comes crashing down on you like a tsunami. 

You move your hands around wildly, rushing to correct your discourtesy. “Uh, I mean, that isn’t to say you need those things!” 

“You don’t think I have any friends?” 

Your face must be radiating more heat than a furnace. Still, the embarrassment doesn’t reach a point where you’re unable to notice his omission of the word family. “I didn’t—” 

Contrary to the reaction you were expecting, Chrollo laughs. Not a little chuckle, but a genuine laugh, hearty in a way that stands in stark contrast to his otherwise reserved demeanor. The smile it imprints on his face somehow feels different than what he’s displayed before. Those were always so well timed, lasting as long as necessary and never a second more. It hits you then just how handsome this man is. Alabaster skin, soft and glossy hair, lips as rosy as the blush on his cheeks from his outburst of laughter. 

It doesn’t last long, he’s quick to school himself. The speed he does so is almost unnatural. “I apologize, I’m only teasing. You’re very expressive, [First].” 

You let out something between a huff and a sigh. “God, I felt so awful…” 

“I can tell,” he puts his hands up in mock surrender when you send him a non-threatening glare. “To answer your question… I’ve never thought about it much. I suppose it is lonely at times.” 

This revelation pours a bucket of ice-cold water over the embers of your indignation. Your face softens and a stinging pain shoots throughout your body. You can’t bring yourself to remain miffed when you’re the one who dredged this topic up. People use humor as a means to cope, that may be what Chrollo does. 

“Enough about me, though. I’m far more interested in you.” 

You shift in your seat. Did it always feel so warm out? 

“Here, let me guess. You’re certainly a student. Hm… of the humanities, perhaps?” 

“You got the student part right,” you agree. “I’m majoring in criminal psychology.”

There’s something like a twinkle in his eyes. “Oh? Is that so? You want to catch criminals, then?” 

“Er… not exactly. It’s more that I want to help them.”

He blinks. “Help them?”

“Not, like, as an accomplice,” you earnestly reassure, to which he smiles, “How do I explain it… take the city around us, right? It’s considered one of the most dangerous in the United States of Saherta.” 

As if on cue, a cacophony of police sirens begins blaring in the distance. 

“In the 80s and 90s, there was a surge of incarceration, yet crime as a whole set higher records each year. The policy at the time was ‘build more prisons, give longer sentences’. Obviously, that didn’t work out very well for anyone… except for private prisons maybe… that’s a whole different beast. Anyway, you reap what you sow. Crime rate is going down, but communities were gutted by these policies. There’s still a lot of work to be done. I want to understand ‘deviant’ behavior so I can see what safety nets would benefit them the most.” 

Chrollo is such an excellent listener that unlike before, you no longer feel the pressure to remain succinct and have little qualms completely delving into your passion. His body language suggests total engagement. 

“Ah, so you view crime as a result of societal shortcomings.” 

“It’s more nuanced than that,” you shake your head. “Hell, even when there were only four people on earth according to the Bible, Cain went ahead and committed murder anyway. That’s like… killing 25% of the population… how messed up. Wait. If there were only four people on earth, who did Cain go on to marry? How does that work…? Asexual reproduction…?” 

“The Quran says Cain and Abel both had twin sisters,” Chrollo offers. 

“Alright, that makes more sense than asexual reproduction. Okay! Enough about theology! Back to crime. There’s no totally eradicating it, but there is circumventing it. That’s what I want to help do.” 

You’ve been so preoccupied with verbalizing your thoughts, you failed to notice he’s scooted slightly closer to you. There’s enough room for decorum yet you can’t help feeling slightly flustered. Why this cute guy is still hanging around despite the fact you casually mentioned asexual reproduction not once, but twice, is a phenomenon that transcends human reason. 

This is so going to be one of those interactions that haunts you periodically at three in the morning for the rest of your life. 

“It’s a noble pursuit,” Chrollo comments. Then, he places a hand to his chin. “Forgive me if this comes off as pessimistic, but… what if you put in all that work, only for nothing significant to change?” 

You shrug. “I’ve considered that plenty, trust me. It’s fine if I don’t kickstart a utopia. So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.” 

“One person, huh?” 

It seems more like a rhetorical musing on his part, so you allow yourself to be momentarily distracted. In your peripherals, there’s a flash of colors, shades of green and red bleeding together. A low buzz accompanies the sporadic sight. The blur moves erratically, high to low, then low to high. 

You cover your mouth to stifle a gasp, then whisper to your companion, “Chrollo! Look! A hummingbird!” 

The thrum of nature is a wonder you’ll never tire of. It inspires awe that reflects in your eyes like a mirror, enchants without needing to cast a spell. You wrongly assume that Chrollo must be partaking in the same miracle that has stolen your attention. He’s fixated, yes, but not on the right subject matter. He’s still staring at you. This disruption of your expectations can only be explained away by the possibility he hasn’t spotted the creature yet. To remedy this, you slowly point in the hummingbird’s direction. Finally, he breaks his gaze from your form, acknowledging what it is you find so fascinating. 

By then, it’s too late. Your newly made acquaintance departs as swiftly as it arrived. 

“Aw, that’s a shame,” you lament. The disappointment you’d feel if you were in his shoes would be immeasurable. “You didn’t get to see it for very long.” 

You have no concrete proof, but you swear every smile he wears is different than the one before it. 

“It’s alright. I saw something far better.” 

Curious, you glance to your right, searching for whatever it is. You must’ve misinterpreted whatever he was looking at before. “Something better than a hummingbird?” 

“You could say that.” 

The remainder of the time you spend together is relatively uneventful. Chrollo asks you a great deal about yourself, ranging from your hobbies to book recommendations. You try to return the favor — as is only polite, in your opinion — yet the conversation never lingers on him long before circling back to you. It isn’t until you say you feel vain talking about yourself so much that he offers some morsels of knowledge. Aside from traveling for his occupation, he’s something of an antiquarian, hence his interest in the Starling House’s event. He also reveals he has colleagues coming into town soon, the aforementioned ‘friends’ you questioned the existence of. The way he teases is so devoid of malice, you can’t bring yourself to be upset. 

The hour flies by. Good looks aside, he’s a remarkable conversationalist. There’s never an awkward silence or social misstep. One could even call him perfection incarnate. His steady cadence, command of language, meticulously formed ideas… they’re reminiscent of cogs in an automaton turning together in complete harmony. Paradoxically, this immaculate image speaks to some underlying defect in his character he mustn’t want anyone to see. There is such a thing as being too perfect. 

For whatever reason, this draws you in closer rather than repelling you. 

Chrollo’s disappointment is palpable when he glances at his watch. It’s then you’re reminded that all good things must come to an end. 

“I—” 

“It—” 

You both start and stop talking at the same time. When it’s made obvious you intend to stay silent until he speaks his piece, he motions to you with his hands, insisting you go first. 

“It was very nice meeting you, Chrollo,” you say, your voice softening. It’s amazing how you can feel your previously discarded sheepishness returning in real-time. Amazing and annoying. “I, uh, hope you enjoy the event.” 

“Please, I should be the one thanking you,” he insists. Then, for such a well-spoken man, he goes uncharacteristically quiet. Deliberating on some issue you’ll never be privy to. “You’ve already helped me a lot, but could I possibly ask for one more thing?” 

You give a nod.

“May I have your phone number?” 

You stare at him.

He stares at you. 

You continue staring at him.

He continues staring at you. 

His request echoes through your head like it was spoken in a vast cavern. Phone number… phone number... you have one of those. He is asking for it. He wants to remain in touch. Indeed, that is what the statement normally means. Ah, it must be in a platonic sense! It’s nice to have someone to talk to, especially since you both share many interests. Not many of your friends are chomping at the bit to discuss if obtaining the philosopher’s stone was a literal practice or meant to be interpreted metaphorically. 

Whoops, you left the poor guy waiting for a response. 

“S-Sure!” 

He hands you his phone without delay. You put in your contact info, then hold it up for him to take. His fingers brush over yours when he picks it back up and you shiver. 

Well, that was certainly nice. You’re forming a blossoming friendship. You love making new friends. The word repeats in your head as if it were a broken record. Friends, friends, friends. Don’t look too into this. Put your magnifying glass down, brain. The stupid three pounds of gray matter delight in tormenting you with outrageous ideas and conclusions. There’s nothing flirtatious happening here. 

“Also, I hope you don’t mind my saying so…” he trails off, weaving a web you willingly allow yourself to get trapped in, “But you are very beautiful, [First].” 

… 

Ohhhh, he’s been flirting with you this entire time, hasn’t he? 

-

Going on a date is a harrowing experience. 

For some unknown reason, your traitorous amygdala regards going to a café at noon with the same severity it would if a lion were actively chasing you down. Your flight or fight response raises the banners of war. The army it amasses digs its trenches, readies the cannons, its matches lit to fire off the artillery on standby. Who is the dreaded opponent, one may ask? No one. Absolutely no one. Incredibly enough, you can actively recognize this fact, and still, your physiological response claims it knows better. 

Social anxiety is so stupid. You thought you and your body were supposed to be on the same team. Whatever inspired this mutiny, whether it be serotonin deficiency or some other science-y term you can’t pronounce, you most certainly don’t appreciate it. 

To be fair, your parent’s reaction didn’t inspire much confidence. Your dad was asking for information on Chrollo you’re 90% sure could be used to conduct a background check, whereas your mom posited the idea he’s a human trafficker. You felt like a lawyer trying to plead your case for why it’s okay that an adult such as yourself may go on a date (sacrilegious, you know, premeditated murder would be more excusable). With some solid arguments and a few instances of stretching the truth (this sounds far nicer than the word lying), the tempest was dissipated. If Chrollo ever were to meet your parents, you’ll have to tell him he’s actually a sensitive, poetic soul that donates to orphanages and saves kittens from burning down buildings. He’s also celibate. More important than any of those things, though, he’s a political centrist. 

Suddenly everything in your closet either felt prudish enough to befit a woman entering the convent, or raunchy enough you’d need to wear a trench coat to leave the house unobstructed. In the end, you find a skirt that’d pass your middle school fingertip test and a cute blouse that shouldn’t land you in purgatory. 

Your hands are shaking when you go to do the winged eyeliner on your left eye. Then you sneeze while applying mascara, granting a raccoon appearance you could’ve done without. You feel wound up so tight there a mere poke could shatter you into millions of pieces. This is great. Millions of years of evolution led up to this. That selfish, inconsiderate fish should’ve never grown legs and stepped on land. Everything’s gone wrong since then. Fuck that fish. 

Ultimately, you succumb and take one of your ‘stage fright’ medications. If it’s doing anything to help, you can’t tell yet. 

You have to beg your dad to stop staring out the window with a pair of binoculars. 

Eventually, a sleek black car pulls in front of your house. 

Following the theme of the day, you almost trip over yourself walking out the front door. Your phone buzzes — no doubt it’s Chrollo telling you he’s here — but you decide to just go to the car rather than text him back. He must’ve spotted you, for he exits and gives you a wave. You’re grateful he did that while a considerable distance away. There was a time a guy waved at you and you thought he wanted a high five. Needless to say, that was a traumatic incident no amount of therapy could help alleviate. 

“You look absolutely lovely,” he compliments. Your Broca’s area temporarily malfunctions at this bold declaration. Fortunately, you gather yourself fast enough to stop yourself from saying “you too”. 

“Thank you,” the phrase comes out as smooth as butter. You silently congratulate yourself for your immaculate delivery of two words. “Wow… you have such a nice car. And here I thought you were a fellow member of the middle class. Am I allowed to touch this?” 

Chrollo chuckles, having gotten used to the peculiar way you word things after all your electronic communication. No matter how you expressed yourself, he still texted you back, so you figured he must be okay with whatever it is you’re doing. He would’ve blocked you by now otherwise. 

His reply comes as he holds the passenger side door open. “Ah, don’t worry. There was a bit of a mixup at the car rental place. I wasn’t expecting something of this quality either.” 

You tuck this piece of knowledge away for later, should any sugar daddy-esque allegations be thrown your way. One can never be too prepared. 

Sinking into the leather seat is a luxurious experience, although it's cold against the exposed area of your thighs. Chrollo slides into the driver’s seat not long after and sets the car into drive. You silently wonder if your neighbors think you’ve gotten into an Uber. 

The short trip to the café soothes your electrically fried nerves. You’re once again reminded of how good he is at making you forget your anxiety, he could put SSRIs out of business. Or maybe the propranolol is finally working. Whichever it may be, by the time you both order your drinks, you feel more giddy than nervous. Is it a good idea to drink a caffeinated beverage when anxiety threatens to drag you into limbo at any second? Probably not. Does that mean you’re going to wisely choose a different beverage? Nope. 

The sunlight is harsher in the afternoon, but you find this is offset by an occasional breeze. No one else is present in the outdoor dining area except for you and Chrollo. You choose the seat facing a row of bushes so you can observe the house finches and house sparrows fluttering about. One little fella is helping itself to a dirt bath in the freshly spread-out mulch. You coo at the adorable display, pointing it out to Chrollo who admits it is a precious sight. You’ve made it your raison d'être to convince him that every bird is equally fascinating, whether it be a rainbow lorikeet or a common pigeon. 

He takes the first sip of the drink you recommended. 

“Well? What do you think?” 

“It’s good,” he decides with a smile. “I can see why you get it so often.” 

“Right? I’ve thought about conducting an Ocean’s Eleven type heist to get the ingredients they use to make it.” 

“Oh? Do you grant a moral exception to thievery?” 

Despite how lightheartedly he phrases this, his eyes have a certain intensity to them. You mull over the question for this reason. 

“Hm… it depends, I guess? Some people need to steal to survive. I probably wouldn’t care if a rich person or mega-corporation got stolen from either,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow at your last statement and you hastily add, “A-As long as no one gets hurt, of course.” 

He doesn’t bother trying to hide his amusement. “Your reasoning is very cute.” 

You groan and shrink back into the garden chair. “I know, I know, that probably came off as terribly naive and self-contradictory… the issue is complex. Giving a one-size-fits-all type of consensus feels impossible. How about you? What do you think?” 

“Coveting is mankind’s original sin,” Chrollo begins. He’s using a tone that tells you to prepare for an in-depth explanation. “It’s a theme that’s recurrent throughout history. David and Bathsheba, Hades and Persephone, Heathcliff and Catherine… we always want what we cannot have. This dilemma never leaves us entirely. We either ignore it, despair in it, or succumb to it. The desire to steal is as involuntary as the diaphragm contracting for us to breathe or the electric signals that cause our heart to beat.” 

A house finch begins its soulful serenade in the background. 

“Wouldn’t you say that calling it involuntary implies we can’t control it, though?” You query. 

“The only way to exercise total control over it is to kill it.” 

“Some parts of us are better off dead,” you decide. “Getting what you want doesn’t guarantee satisfaction. The examples you listed… maybe they were happy for a time, but ultimately, their transgressions caught up to them.” 

“Is a moment of bliss not worth a lifetime of anguish?” 

“Maybe, if I was a sensualist.” 

He rests his chin on his fist, the skin beneath his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Is that what you’re saying I am, darling?” 

Your eyes widen and you almost choke on your drink at the unexpected pet name. Warmth floods your cheeks and you take a long second to recompose yourself. Your blatant display of embarrassment further fuels his amusement, he actually chuckles. You consider kicking him under the table, but decide that isn’t very ladylike. Then you remember it's the twenty-first century, and to honor your feminist ancestors, you scrunch up a napkin into a ball and fling it at him. Although the aerodynamics of your makeshift projectile are questionable, it almost hits him. Until he catches it with admittedly impressive reflexes. 

“You have a good throwing arm.” 

“And you should consider retiring from your white-collar job to join a baseball team,” you take a sip of your delicious drink. This is definitely the most memorable date you’ve been on. “But no, I don’t think you’re a sensualist. I honestly don’t know how I’d classify you. You’re jaded… almost misanthropic. You acknowledge the world for what it is, but it’s like you once thought it could be better. You don’t care to be proven right or wrong about it anymore, you want something else.” 

“Ah… when put that way, I must seem pathetic,” he muses, his casual air hardly matching the severity of the words spoken. 

“Not at all!” Your passionate outcry appears to momentarily take him aback. “If you’re still looking for something, that means deep down, you have hope you might eventually find it. To me, that’s admirable.” 

He regards you for a few moments, before closing his eyes, his countenance strangely content. “You’re a very interesting woman, [First].” 

“Pfft, not really.” 

“I’m afraid this a point I’ll have to insist on,” or so he says, but you both know he secretly relishes his contrarian ways. “I have to wonder, though. How is it you came to gather any of this about me?” 

“Your opinion on books.” 

He blinks. “Pardon?” 

“We interpret media through a lens that’s formed by our experiences, so… I dunno. You can just infer a lot from what a person gets caught up with in a story.” 

In Chrollo’s case, what he doesn’t pay attention to is equally telling, although it took you a while to notice his unique display of apathy. He’d brush on certain themes while giving a rather surface-level commentary. Playing it safe, almost. He still had such an excellent way of weaving his words, that telling it came from another person's loom was difficult. It wasn’t until you hit on a subject he truly cared for that you could tell the difference. He’d give insights so particular to him that they must contain the true essence of his character. 

Even if it is a mere glimmer. 

He speaks your name.

“Hm?” 

“About what I’m searching for…” he unwraps the napkin you unceremoniously threw his way earlier, smooths out the wrinkles, then returns it. “I think I may have found it.” 

-

Everything has a way of escalating faster than you anticipated. 

You’re about thirty minutes into the movie Perfect Blue. For some time now, you’ve been praising its merits to Chrollo, who recently said you should watch it together. This begged the question of where. In the months since you’ve begun dating, while your parents have taken a liking to him, you didn’t think the subject matter of the movie should be proudly displayed in your living room. 

To remedy this, Chrollo suggested watching it in his hotel room. 

You couldn’t fully explain your initial apprehension if you tried. You felt comfortable around him and have been alone together plenty. Yet for some reason, being alone with a man in a hotel room produced this mental image you weren’t sure you were ready for. He never pushed you or asked why you seemed hesitant to take things further than kissing and some light petting. His lack of questioning had the unintended side effect of birthing different doubts. 

Does he not want anything else? Is he only acting like it doesn’t bother him? Will a day come when he tires of your squeamishness and simply moves on? 

It’s this taunting mantra that haunted you in the lobby, the elevator, then the long, impersonal hallway to his room. 

Your chest feels heavy enough that you wonder if lead has filled your lungs. 

When he sat next to you on the couch, you barely registered his presence, much less his question if the temperature in the room felt agreeable. At some point, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Then his hand began to meander, although his attention never left the screen. He played with your hair. Gently stroked your forearm. His hand wandered down, down, down, to the hem of your skirt. He straightens the lightly bunched fabric out. Your heart pounds. 

Chrollo’s fingers stay there, seemingly placated. 

During the scene where Mima sees her reflection as her idol persona, his hand creeps onto the exposed skin of your thighs. He gives it a gentle, tentative squeeze. A soft gasp leaves you and your attention turns to him. Immediately, your eyes meet his in the dark. The side of his face is lightly illuminated by an array of cool tones. He uses his free hand to cup your chin, the pad of his thumb rubbing your lower lip. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He speaks the question with such rapture, low and quiet. 

Your heart violently hits your ribcage like it’s trying to burst free. 

Silently, you nod. He tilts his head to the side and slots his lips against yours. There’s a pleasant buzz that tries so hard to overpower the frantic adrenaline pumping through your veins. Your body is at war with itself; indulgence or indignance. It’s a conflict that’ll never have a winner. You want to enjoy it — and you are, you think — so why does your biological makeup hold you as a prisoner without ransom? He tastes nice, feels nice. He did everything right. You don’t want to tremble at what’s a normal aspect of a relationship as if it were death itself hanging over your head. 

It’s this mounting frustration at your condition that spurs you into action. 

While maintaining the languid kiss, you situate yourself on his lap, a gesture that causes him to inhale sharply. He may be as surprised at your boldness as you are. You snake your arms around his neck and intensify the kiss. Humming, he reciprocates your ardor. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips and you grant him entry. He tastes of dark chocolate and mint, a combination you wish you could get drunk on, if only to put your tense body at ease. 

One hand squeezes and massages your thigh, the other cups your feverish face. In this position, you’re afforded no modesty. You can feel your skirt hiking up, exposing more of you. His fingers explore the new territory. They venture dangerously close to your panties, though he doesn’t go beyond there, as if respecting an invisible barrier. The cocktail of emotions this invokes is impossible to properly sort through. 

Can he feel the heat emanating from your body? Your pulse which finds new highs every minute? You want to lose yourself, but you can’t, your anxiety always drags you back kicking and screaming. It is an unforgiving warden that thinks you’d be better off in a cell. 

Chrollo admires you when you pull back, in desperate need of air. You’re starting to feel dizzy and you don’t know if it’s the right kind. There’s something hard forming beneath where you sit. His lust for you is apparent, and you want to please, want to be normal. It should be fun. Your friends regale you with stories of taking strangers home and never feeling more than butterflies in their stomach. That’s what you want. Not this contortion of the aforementioned organ that makes you think your insides are slowly liquifying. 

You still haven’t fully caught your breath, each one growing more shallow, more panicked. He finds other ways to entertain himself, namely, by lavishing your clammy skin with kisses. Your jawline, neck, then collarbone. He’s so calm you think you might be envious. Finally, he works his way back up, teasing your earlobe with his teeth, his breath warm as it fans against you. 

Thump, thump, thump. 

“[First],” his voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Garbled, distant. “Should we take this to the bedroom?” 

You break into too many shards to fix. 

You get up. Straighten your skirt. You think you mutter something about needing a moment. Your legs don’t feel right. They move anyway. The bathroom’s door knob is like ice. You grab a hand towel. Turn on the faucet. Soak the towel until it drips water down the sink basin. Sit on the floor. The tiles are almost as cold enough to help. You place the towel around your neck. Your ears are ringing and you wish they’d stop. You hug your legs to your chest. What is it you’re supposed to do? Breathe? 

It’ll pass, it’ll pass, it’ll pass. 

It always does. 

Just hold on a bit longer. 

Feeling comes back in your hands first. It spreads throughout your body, though the antidote is far too late. Exhaustion is the next thing you register. The kind that seeps into your cells, makes your limbs feel like dead weight. Cognition returns as well. You remember where you are, who you’re with, what you’ve done. 

It’s been a while since you’ve experienced one of these. Somehow, it’s worse than you remember. Infinitely worse. 

A shiver runs down your spine. Has it always been so cold? You wonder what temperature your body was running at for you not to have noticed sooner. 

How nice it is that your homeostasis decided to return. Is your sympathetic nervous system giving itself a pat on the back? Celebrating and popping champagne bottles at yet another job well done? We’ve done it successfully again, folks, you imagine it cheering. We’ve stopped her from doing something completely normal and harmless! 

You’d laugh, but this time, you can’t bring yourself to. 

As tempting as it is to stay here and pray for the tile floor to swallow you whole, you sincerely doubt that’ll happen, so you’re left with the far less appealing option of being an adult and facing the predicament you’re in. Getting back up, you’re treated to a glimpse of your reflection. 

The change in your complexion would make any onlooker think you’ve seen a ghost. 

Abruptly, you’re fourteen again, trying to get your mom’s attention so you can beg her to take you home because the social gathering of ten or so people is just too much. Next, you’re fifteen, talked into some weekend youth getaway because saying ‘no’ makes you feel guilty and the car ride has another two hours remaining. You feel sick, terribly sick, but you don’t want to get sick, because then your peers would think you’re strange, so you sit there and endure. Then you’re sixteen, locked in the stall of your high school bathroom, trying not to pass out because you think it’d be an inconvenience to anyone that happened upon you. 

You thought you were over this. You’ve done the therapy, read the self-help books, and taken your medication every day like clockwork. 

What’s left for you to do? 

Why does it always come back? 

Chrollo asks if everything’s alright when you walk back over to the couch. You say yes. He then asks if he can get you anything. A glass of water, please, is your reply.

You can tell he’s examining you when he hands the glass over. Your face warms — not in a fun way. The television screen is dark and yet you’re fixated on it like it’s the most intriguing thing in the world. Going from feeling as if you’re a stranger in your own body to being hyper-aware of everything never fails to give you whiplash. You can hear the low thrum of the air conditioning, footsteps coming from the hallway, the steady drip of the sink he filled your glass from. You think to rub your eyes then stop yourself; that’d smudge your mascara. It’d be nice if he could at least think you’re pretty as you struggle to hold yourself together. 

“Was it something I did?” Chrollo questions. He almost sounds�� curious, a concept you furiously scrub from your head. You’re exhausted and your brain is waving the white flag. Attributing false interpretations to his words is not going to help. 

“N-No, not at all, I, um,” you have the words, you just don’t want to say them, so you opt for taking another drink instead. The glass runs out of water, your safe haven disappearing with it. “Just… a panic attack. It happens… sometimes.” 

“Entirely unprompted?” 

You gnaw on your lower lip. “Kind of…? It— nothing about it is exactly logical. I can know I’m fine, believe it too, and still, that doesn’t matter. It’ll happen anyway. I guess I have some reservations about that level of physical intimacy, but what my body decides to do is completely overkill.” 

“You always minimize the role your anxiety plays in your life,” Chrollo points out. You’re grasping the glass tight enough that your knuckles hurt. “You can’t mention it to me without making light of it in some way. Is there a reason for that?” 

Well, he’s got you there. 

You’re about to joke and ask if he’s the one studying the behavioral sciences, when you realize that’d just be proving his point. 

So uncharacteristic acrimony bubbles to the surface instead.

“A reason? I can give you more than one. It’s stupid, it’s annoying. The most simple things become like a fucking life or death experience for me and I can’t stand it,” you feel tears gather at your lower lashline but you’re too far gone to care. It’s a good thing your mascara is waterproof. “And then I… I think sex sounds nice, but when it actually gets to the moment, I feel so guilty and anxious and wrong that I leave my partner frustrated or thinking they’re some sort of monster.” 

Usually, Chrollo's countenance is difficult to read, but there’s this raw emotion that makes itself known. Understanding? Relief? You don’t know for certain. It disappears without a trace, leaving you no way to confirm or deny your intuition. It’s probably too fried to be reliable, anyway. 

“Hm… you must think all this would put me off, then. Make me want to move on to someone else.” 

A knife stabbing you in the gut and twisting its blade until your viscera turned to mush would hurt less. 

“Sweetheart, I was already aware that it was worse than what you let on,” his voice sounds so kind and near, you marvel at it, the gravitational pull drawing you in. You barely realize he’s brought you into an embrace. Your cheek is against his chest, right above his heart. His has a calm, steady rhythm, whereas yours is picking back up once more. “Your avoidance of talking on the phone, how soft your voice gets when interacting with strangers, the way you act like you’re an inconvenience by asking for the slightest assistance.” 

The tears you tried holding in break free, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. 

“I find these qualities of yours very endearing. You can go from passionately speaking about your interests over dinner to going shy the second the waiter walks over. You care so much, feel so much… it’s a wonder to me. You experience this life in the exact opposite manner I do.”

With the hand he isn’t using to keep you secure against him, he rubs your back up and down. 

“Ah, my poor, sweet girl. What a tender heart you have,” he whispers. His grip on you tightens. That’s when you hear it — the undeniable sound of his heart beating a bit faster than it did before. “I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Not after all the effort I put into stealing it for myself. No, I’m almost hurt you entertained the thought. Have I ever treated you with anything less than the utmost care? Hm?” 

Chrollo starts to pull you away from him, yet you refuse, clinging adamantly to his torso in an attempt to hide your face. He ignores the way you shake your head and by exerting the slightest force, achieves his original goal. His fingers find purchase on your chin, which he tilts upward, allowing himself an unobscured view of your puffy eyes and runny makeup. He smiles, wiping away your tears with such gentleness, he must think you’re made of porcelain. 

Sniffling, you remember he asked you a question, and attempt cobbling together a coherent response. Such is the polite thing to do. “I guess not.” 

“And why do you think that is?” 

“... The once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to conduct an in-depth case study for your future dissertation on GAD and SAD?” 

His visage lands somewhere between mild bemusement and exacerbation. “I know you’re smarter than that. Try again.” 

“My winning personality, once you wade through all the mental illness?” 

“That certainly plays a role.” 

“I know I’m cute, too. I suppose that helps. Otherwise, I’d be completely and utterly fucked.” 

“Yes, yes — you are terribly cute.” 

Sensing your hesitancy to land on a definitive answer, he decides to spell it out himself. “I’m fond of you, to a degree I previously thought myself incapable of. I have a… callous disposition, for lack of a better word. Yet for whatever reason, this doesn’t seem to bother you. I’ve never cared for subjective terms like ‘good’ or ‘evil’, but… if there is goodness in this world, it’d be found in you.” 

Chrollo’s knuckles brush against your cheekbone as he speaks, seemingly bewitched by the glittering stream your tears left behind. Tangible proof of your emotions that tumult like a tempest, whereas his often remains an unmoving body of water. 

You take his cheeks in your hands and glare at him. This time, when your lower lip trembles, it’s with righteous anger, not sorrow. “Why do you always talk about yourself like you’re the world’s biggest villain?” 

His eyes slightly widen — you’ve never used a tone like this with him before, or anyone else, for that matter  — though his composure doesn’t wane for long. 

“So what if you don’t think everything is sunshine and rainbows? You aren’t heartless; you just know the dangers of putting your heart on display for everyone else to see. I can’t blame you for that, from what you’ve told me.”

He’s never been particularly forthcoming about sharing details from his past. What you do know is that he grew up in extreme poverty, without parents or a guardian, scraping by with some other children in a similar situation. You never pushed to learn more. There was this quiet melancholy that possessed him in the rare moments he shared glimpses of his childhood. The specters that haunted him could almost be felt lingering in the atmosphere, turning the air heavy and thick. 

“You lost a precious friend in such a cruel way. That loss of innocence, it’s unforgivable, it’s completely unfair…!”

This time, your tears aren’t for you, they’re for a little boy you’ll never know and a girl that you couldn’t if you tried. “I don’t get why you’re so harsh on yourself. You act like you’ve done something unforgivable.” 

He parts and closes his lips. Whatever he intended to say, he must’ve decided against it. Instead, he pulls you back against him, almost greedily. He presses kisses atop your head then murmurs a few words you can’t quite catch. Your body is deprived of energy, having flickered through almost every major emotion a human being can experience. If your parents wouldn’t have fussed over the act, you could’ve fallen asleep on him for the night. 

The person who inadvertently caused your blistering anxiety is also the best balm for it. 

It’s unexplainable, teetering on the edge of delusion, this sentiment that he could shield you from all harm. He’s always so sure of himself when you remain plagued by indecisiveness. He can talk you out of any irrational thought, anchor you when a stressful situation is beginning to be too much, and understand you almost eerily well. He’s able to piece together your chaotic thought processes with next to no context. He listens to you, remembers everything you say (and you mean everything), and genuinely values your input, even if he disagrees with your opinions. 

This level of an intimate connection is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. 

“No one’s ever cried for my sake before,” he thinks aloud. He’s stroking your back again, almost mindlessly. You swear there’s something magical about his touch. 

“Do you think I’m weird?” 

“There are a lot of words I’d use to describe you,” he decides. As always, he’s clever at avoiding questions he doesn’t wish to answer. “Currently, the one that stands out to me the most would be…” 

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you. 

“Warm.” 

-

The arboretum is far different in autumn. Green leaves have transitioned into rich auburn and golden shades, hesitant buds nowhere to be seen. The grass beneath your feet is crunchier, the foliage dry and scattered, almost as if it were trying to form a protective sheath for the earth. No longer can you hear the melody of grasshoppers and buzzing from busy bees. The wind whistles when it blows, the underlying frostiness biting at your cheeks and ears. 

“Ah, would you look at that, it’s a junco,” Chrollo points out. You cover your mouth to muffle a gasp. Thanks in part to your guidance, he’s gotten better at identifying different types of birds. While you’d like to think it’s because he appreciates them too, you’re convinced he finds your excited reaction far more interesting. 

The little blob of black and white hops to and fro, using its feet to rummage for anything edible. You silently lament your lack of birdseed. You’ll have to settle for cheering the tiny friend on from afar. 

Hand in hand, you both traverse the area of your original meeting. Sweet nostalgia swirls in your chest. You’ve always found it befuddling how a single chance encounter can permanently change the trajectory of your life. In the moment, you have no idea how your actions will go on to form ripples that influence the future. Whether this is chaos theory or some other fancy metaphysical-sounding concept, you haven’t the slightest clue. 

What you do know is that meeting Chrollo was a catalyst for something greater. 

A wave of chills cascades over you.

“Are you cold?” He inquires, his tone having this ‘I told you so’ quality to it that you don’t appreciate. You’re wearing a light beige, plaid fitted blazer, that while chic, doesn’t have much insulation. You waved off his initial concern by saying you’ll warm up once you both get to walking around. So much for that. 

“Cold is a mindset,” the chattering of your teeth doesn’t do much to help your cause. He raises an eyebrow. “Mind over matter… mind over matter…” 

Chrollo shrugs his coat off and drapes it over you. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick, dear.” 

“You sound like my grandma.” 

“The one who tried taking my head wrappings off, or the one who kicked me?” 

“A combination of the two that coalesces their tendency to fuss over me.” 

“You’re very easy to fuss over,” Chrollo chuckles at the face you make at him. “You’re absolutely precious. It’s a mystery to me how you make the smallest acts endearing.” 

At this, you strike a dumb pose, winking at him all the while. “Aha, it’s no mystery. You have my irresistible charm to thank for that.” 

He sighs wistfully. “Indeed I do.” 

Although the sage gardens behind the Starling House are no longer in bloom, you decide to swing by anyway. The plans for the remainder of your day follow a similarly simple yet pleasant precedent. You’re going to go window shopping in a quaint commercial district, grab something to eat at a pub, then end the night off with a movie. Chrollo’s trying to convince you to watch some indie flick that’s in black and white and uses a 1.19:1 ratio. You want to watch Alien, a classic he’s never seen like the weirdo he is. 

The walk isn’t long or monotonous. It’s so idyllic that you could believe you’re the only two people in the world. 

However, that isn’t the case. Upon entering the garden, you’re quick to note the presence of another.  

A young woman is kneeling down, murmuring under her breath. She’s acting as if she’s lost something and can’t find it. Frowning, you detach yourself from Chrollo, approaching her with the intent to offer your assistance. She doesn’t lift her head upon hearing the obvious sounds of your footfall. She just continues blindly grasping at the ground. 

“Miss?” You ask, to which her entire body freezes. “Did you drop something? I could help you look for it.” 

She mutters another incomprehensible jumble of words. 

“Hm? What was that?” 

You lean over in an attempt to hear her better. 

Then, much to your confusion, she enunciates your full-given name. Even while doing this, she doesn’t spare you a single glance. 

“Have to… have to…” she’s back to being difficult to make sense of, “I have to…”

 A strange sensation possesses you.

Have you met this woman somewhere before? You do a quick mental scan of her disheveled appearance and come up with nothing definitive. Her hair is matted, her complexion sallow and her cheeks sunken in. Her disoriented state stirs concern within you. It’s a good sign that she’s still conscious and exhibiting motor functions, but the longer you examine her, the more you can tell she isn’t in a proper state of mind. You don’t want to leave her out here alone in such a vulnerable state. You try to push aside the uncanny feeling that came from her apparently recognizing you when you’re certain you’ve never met. 

Chrollo speaks your name. Turning around, you face him just in time to catch a surreal expression forming on his countenance. His eyes widen slightly, his lips part, then he’s reaching out for you. 

The passage of time grinds temporarily to a halt. 

And then there is a visceral burst of energy. 

It’s as if a blizzard manifests from the direction the woman is hunched over in. There’s this thick, harrowing tension that causes your legs to buckle at the knees. Swirls of negative emotions wrap around you in shadowy tendrils. Grief. Hysteria. Rage. Bitterness. Most notable, however, is the sickening yearning to inflict harm. How can a human being produce and project such raw feelings? It’s like hatred itself has been given a palpable form, submerging you in a swamp of mire. 

You don’t understand what’s happening to you, but you do have this primal foreboding that the longer you’re exposed to it, the more endangered you’ll be. 

In the millisecond it takes for you to blink, Chrollo is no longer in your line of sight. 

It’s strange, you think. There are no knives, guns, explosives; or anything that could hurt you in the traditional sense. In a way you could understand and reliably assess the threat level of. 

And still, despite this uncertainty, you have this unshakable premonition that death isn’t far away. 

-

You wake up in a bed that is not your own. 

Your body is drenched in sweat, your muscles sore, and your head feels as if it’s being clamped in a vice-like grip. Trying to get up proves to be a poor decision. Nausea and dizziness force you to lie back down. You take shallow, frantic breaths, wincing at yet another wave of throbbing coming from your temples. Your senses aren’t reliable either. The first few times you open your eyes, dark spots dot your vision. Then there’s your hearing, or lack of. There’s this distant ringing that while slowly fading, isn’t replaced by anything better. Your hearing grows so muffled you almost think earplugs have been jammed in your ear canal. 

Groaning, you manage to lift yourself off the mattress with trembling arms. The dark spots fade away enough for you to make out your surroundings. 

You’re in Chrollo’s hotel room, lying on his bed. 

It’s nighttime. The digital clock sitting on the bedside table reads 3:40 a.m.  

The next thing you do is feel around for your phone. It should be in the back pocket of your jeans, but it isn’t there. 

The brisk air takes your breath away when you tug the comforter off. Your body groans with protest at all the movement, yet you ignore its request to lay back down, the situation at hand far too perplexing. Your outfit is the same as the one you put on this morning, aside from your boots, which sit together near the wall. You then assess your body for any physical injuries, finding nothing visible to explain your current malaise. Are you hungover? Frowning, you dismiss the idea. You know your tolerance well and never try pushing it. 

Taking small steps and using the wall as leverage, you make your way over to the adjoined bathroom. You fill a dental cup with water and down it instantly. After satiating your thirst, you call out for Chrollo, your voice gravelly with sleep. 

No response. 

Sighing, you slink over to the closed bedroom door. Your equilibrium steadies itself enough that you only need to grab onto something every few steps. The handle doesn’t budge. You try again, exerting more force — still nothing. The subsequent attempts end in the same manner. There’s no denying it, it’s been locked. That begs the question of why. Safety, maybe? It’s possible Chrollo stepped out for whatever reason and wanted to ensure no one could get to you. Then again, that’s what the deadbolt on the door leading to the hotel hallway is for. 

You don’t want to start rattling the door and making a scene when you’re certain there’s a solid explanation for this. He has to come back eventually, his stuff is still here. Although, you can’t help noticing how sparse his personal belongings are. The book he was reading no longer sits on the bedside table, the framed picture of the two of you gifted by your parents isn’t on the wardrobe either. Next, you check the closet, finding it in a similarly desolate state. You once pillaged a shirt of his when you grew tired of wearing a dress, so you know its usual presentation. The hangers remain on the rack yet everything else is gone.

Chrollo told you his job had placed him in this city indefinitely. Is he planning to move to another hotel? 

Not knowing what else to do, you sit on the edge of the bed. The former pounding in your head has soothed into a far less egregious dull ache. You must’ve been asleep for a decent chunk of time, this initial grogginess is what you experience upon first waking up in the morning. You hope you weren’t unconscious for too long. It's an unsettling thought, being in that vulnerable state, totally shut off from the world. 

A few minutes of absentmindedly admiring the twinkling lights that make up the city skyline’s pass. 

Then you hear the door handle jingle. 

Chrollo silently examines you. It’s almost as if he’s gauging your entire being, anticipating what is to come. His mouth is set in a straight line and he’s standing unnervingly still. There’s this intensity to him that has you breaking off eye contact. Your mouth goes dry and you temporarily forget how to form words. You had so many burning questions in his absence, why is it that they've been wiped clean from your head now that he’s here? 

When you find the courage to look up at him again, there’s not a vestige of his former expression. The grave lines have smoothened out and you no longer believe you’re face to face with a stranger. 

“How are you feeling?” He’s quick to close the distance. The mattress dips, adjusting to his presence by your side.  

“Oh, uh, not the best, but… I don’t think it’s anything serious,” you say. Silvery moonlight shines into the room, illuminating him in an otherworldly veil. Goosebumps line your skin when he takes the side of your face into his hand. He’s cold. “I’m mostly just confused. Is— is everything okay? Why am I here?” 

“How much do you remember?” 

Remember, remember… that’s right, you hadn’t given that much thought. You pick through your hazy memories aloud. “Well, we were at the arboretum, just walking around. I remember heading to the gardens behind the Starling House. Then… um…” 

You squint and furrow your eyebrows together. It’s as if your recollection was a film reel that had been trimmed after that point. You try piecing together a mental image of the garden. Hummingbirds? Sage? No, that isn’t right, you’re thinking of its spring appearance. The colors would be more muted, there’d be less shrubbery. The image grows sharper.

Then there’s a shadow. 

Vaguely human-shaped, situated right in the middle of the mosaic you’re trying to form. Their outline isn’t solid, it’s splotchy, like water paint left to run on a canvas. 

Finally, something clicks. 

“That woman!” You exclaim. The corner of his lips twitch downward. “That’s right! Is she okay? She seemed so out of it.” 

“I’m not sure.” 

“How is that possible? You were—” 

“Let’s focus on you for now,” he cuts you off. There’s a finality in his voice you can’t bring yourself to challenge. “Can you tell me what symptoms you’re experiencing?” 

“Um, some disorientation and a headache.”

“I see. I’ll get you some painkillers, then.” 

You grab his wrist to stop him when he starts getting up. “I’d really prefer you told me what happened first.”

When he doesn’t immediately acquiesce to your request, you quietly add, “Please.” 

His eyes soften at your gentle, uncertain timbre. He intertwines his fingers with yours and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze. 

“Earlier, when we arrived at the garden, you grew lightheaded and fainted.” 

You take a moment to process the information. It seems plausible enough, yet the more you mull over it, the more little details start to catch your attention.

“Okay…” you trail off, pursing your lips. A vengeful throb from your head causes you to wince. He notices — frowns — then places a featherlight kiss against your forehead. The thoughtful gesture doesn’t invoke any pleasant warm fuzzy sensations. “So I fell unconscious for over ten hours and you didn’t… call an ambulance…?” 

“That is correct.” 

You shuffle in your seat, momentarily taken aback at how easygoing he’s acting about the entire ordeal. “Why?” 

“I’ve been monitoring your vitals,” he reassures. Sensing your growing apprehension, he adds, “I can promise that you were never in serious danger. I would’ve acted accordingly if you were.” 

The phrase ‘acted accordingly’ doesn’t tell you much either. What does he mean by that? Is there some threshold you needed to enter for him to have taken you to the hospital? Your various volunteer experiences with the city’s vulnerable communities taught you that if a person is unresponsive for over a minute, an ambulance should be called, just to be on the safe side. Besides, isn’t that just common sense? Chrollo is an intelligent man. You can’t fathom any line of reasoning that’d justify not erring on the side of caution. 

You glance at the clock again. 4:03 a.m. glows in the dim light of the room. It’s late. You wonder what your parents—

Holy shit. 

“Do my mom and dad know?” You glance around as if expecting to find them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have insisted on calling emergency services if you were unconscious for that long. 

“I didn’t inform them, no.” 

“What?” You make no attempts to tone down your incredulity. “Then— they must be out of their minds with worry! My phone, where’s my phone? I need to tell them I’m okay!” 

You shoot up off the bed too fast and your body doesn’t take kindly to the rushed movement. Debilitating lightheadedness causes you to lose your balance. Chrollo steadies your swaying form and helps sit you back down. You scoot away from him as far as you can, your thoughts an absolute mess. Nothing here is making sense. It’s not even a puzzle that’s missing a few pieces, there’s almost nothing to work with at all. 

He’s staring at you in that strange, anticipatory manner again. It makes your stomach churn. 

“My phone, Chrollo,” you hold your hand out. “There’s no way you don’t have it.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t give it to you,” he sounds apologetic too, which makes your subsequent temper flare up even worse. 

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss, exasperation winning out. You were trying to be reasonable, but that is over and done with. “You’re acting like— like there’s nothing weird happening! Can you please take this seriously? You’re really starting to freak me out.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I knew this wouldn’t be easy for you, so I wanted to remain calm for your sake.” 

Your tongue couldn’t properly form words if your life depended on it. Sure, remaining calm in a crisis is helpful, but he isn’t acting like this is a crisis. He’s treating it as if he was burdened with sitting you down to relay bad news that no one else had the heart to share. 

You’re starting to think you don’t know the person you’re talking to. 

“For my sake,” you repeat in a wry deadpan. “If that’s true, then tell me what’s actually going on, Chrollo. Because I know you’re bullshitting me.” 

Not calling the ambulance or informing your parents, withholding your phone… then there’s the matter of how he got you here in the first place. Did he carry you through the lobby? No good samaritans thought it was unusual to see a man carrying an unconscious woman up to his room? Hotel staff these days are trained to have a vigilant eye for these situations too. Not one person thought it might be a good idea to ring up law enforcement over such a blatantly suspicious act? 

Nothing is adding up. 

“I’m being more forthcoming than you think,” Chrollo says, as if he’s doing you a favor. He tries reaching out for your hand again, only this time, you don’t allow him. “Everything I’ve said and intend to say is the truth, even if you don’t particularly like it.” 

That’s a hell of a creative way of putting it!

“Who was that woman earlier? What did she do to me?” 

“I have someone ironing out the details, but from what I’ve gathered, she was sent with the intention of killing you. I don’t believe she was aware of the fact herself until you entered her vicinity, triggering the necessary condition for the true culprit’s ability to activate. Otherwise, I certainly wouldn’t have allowed you to get so close.” 

Someone was sent to kill you? You? A run-of-the-mill college student who has no enemies to speak of? It’s not like you’re a part of the fucking mob. That can’t be right, not to mention the bizarre jargon he’s using. There’d be no plausible motive. If he says she was sent, and you choose to believe he isn’t making this all up, that implies it was premeditated. Not a spur-of-the-moment decision. That’d almost make more sense. 

That is, unless… 

You stare at him, eyebrows knitting together. 

“If you’re telling the truth — and right now, that’s a big fucking if — does this have something to do with you?” 

“That’s my clever girl,” he praises, entirely devoid of condescension. The pure fondness in his voice makes you sick. It’s almost as if he’s delighting in watching you piece this nightmare together. “Yes, you haven’t deliberately done anything to earn the wrath of the wrong people. They simply know getting to me is near impossible, hence their decision to go for the next best thing instead. That’d be you, dear.” 

“Oh my god,” you bury your head in your hands. “Why… why am I not freaking out more? I should be hysterical, or, or— I don’t know…” 

“Beta blockers,” he reveals. You look at him like he’s speaking another language. “In anticipation of how… touchy this conversation was going to be, I thought it might be best for you to be in a good headspace while receiving this information for the first time.” 

“You drugged me?” 

“If that’s how you want to look at it.” 

“Because that’s how it is!” 

A lump forms in your throat and lodges itself there. Are you stuck in a hellacious dream? Or hallucinating, perhaps? Visual hallucinations aren’t supposed to be this cohesive or clear. There has to be another explanation. Something you’re missing that’d make this all go away. The beta blocker admission certainly holds weight. Your heart rate, while slightly elevated, isn’t anywhere near as chaotic as it should be. It’d explain the general malaise, fatigue, and lightheadedness too. That, and you doubt you’d be able to think this clearly if there wasn’t something heavy pumping through your system. 

Your eyes hesitantly settle on Chrollo, who sits there perfectly still and almost relaxed. He’s observing you like a hawk. 

“Listen,” you try using a mellower voice. He raises an eyebrow at your drastically different approach. “You had ample opportunity to hurt me and you didn’t. That must mean you have my best intentions at heart, right? Why don’t we try to work something out, because this isn’t sustainable. My absence isn’t going to go unnoticed.” 

Chrollo sighs, heavy if not unsurprised. “Sweetheart, I’m not suffering a break from reality, although I’m sure you’d prefer to rationalize it that way. I assure you I’m lucid and everything I’ve done is intentional. You’ll come to accept it eventually.” 

It isn’t going to help, yet you feel your remaining grains of patience slip through your fingers. 

“What’s this talk about a ‘condition’ and ‘ability’, then?” You challenge. 

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d mention that,” he doesn’t sound like you landed on a reason that’d prove him wrong. “How to explain it… you once told me you think there are phenomena in this world that can’t be explained by empirical evidence. Consider this an example of that. I’m sure you must’ve felt it before you fainted. An intense, concentrated sensation that awoke your primordial fear. Bloodlust.” 

You want to argue until you run out of breath, but this description does strike a chord. Reality itself feels as if it’s drifting further and further away. In an awfully cruel twist, Chrollo and his collected disposition is the most grounding factor you have to latch onto. 

“I’m sure it’s a lot to take in,” he finally replaces that matter-of-fact tone with something resembling compassion, “But know this: you’re not in any danger. Neither are those you care about, so long as you act sensible.” 

Shivering, you hug your arms around your chest. “How can you say that to me so easily? I thought… I thought you…” 

He’s enveloping you from behind. You didn’t even see him move. Weakly, you struggle against his hold, but you’re not in any condition to put up a fight. In the event you were, it’s doubtful it’d make much of a difference. He’s strong. It goes beyond physical strength, into some esoteric realm you’ve become forcibly acquainted with. He’s exerting this slight pressure that makes your heart skip a beat, despite the medication. It isn’t comparable to what you experienced in the garden — there’s no malice — it feels more like a warning. 

“You’re surprisingly sensitive to Nen,” he murmurs, humming contentedly when you go limp against him. His chin rests atop your head and his arms ensnare your midriff. “How interesting. No matter. Whatever your fascinating brain concocted is still true. You may think me merciless, but if you knew me, you’d find this to be my greatest act of mercy yet.” 

“I thought I did know you,” is your weak reply. You don’t recognize the sound of your voice. 

“The parts of me I wanted to show you, yes,” he moves your hair aside so he can press a kiss to the nape of your neck. “And a few glimpses you gleaned in your own way. Really, you are such a sweet girl. Willing to overlook discrepancies to see the ‘good’ in me.” 

Heat rises and ignites on your cheeks. “I-I could scream, you know.” 

“You could.” 

That’s not the reaction you were expecting. 

“You’re… not going to try and stop me?” 

“No,” he responds. “I’ve always found experience to be the best teacher.” 

“You really,” you heave a humorless laugh, uncertain of what else to do, “You really don’t see anything wrong with this?” 

He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, marveling at how your pulse remains steady, thanks to his intervention. 

“‘So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.’” 

“What?” 

“It’s what you said the first day I met you,” Chrollo explains, nostalgia evident. “I’ve thought about those words often. Your effulgence, your desire to do right by others. It made me wonder if there could ever be anyone more perfect for me than you. You, whose pretty neck I could snap before you’d ever realize what happened, stirred up a sentimentality in me I thought myself incapable of.” 

Sandalwood, amber, and leather. His scent is the same as that day.

Are his intentions? 

Is this a prophecy he himself ordained and always intended to see fulfilled? 

“You stole my heart, and as recompense, I will steal you. Think whatever you want about me, dear. Just don’t think I’m selfless enough to ever change my mind.” 

[skateboard-of-sickness]

Adaine Abernant, a divination wizard from a rich family from fallinel. She wasn't cared for very much and she had undiagnosed and treated anxiety. She had to kill someone on her first day. She saved a werewolf and got him a job. She got new clothes so she wasn't in school uniform all the time. She got her sister arrested after she tried to kill her and her friends. She found out she's the Oracle. “Having panic attacks is not a character flaw. You're not a coward, you have a goddamn medical condition.” The werewolf saved her back. She refuses the Oracle title. She goes to school, her house is gone and so are her parents. She moved in with the werewolf, her friends and her friends mom (who is dating the werewolf.) She goes on an adventure and uses her divination to save people. She met a half-phoe ix who's her principal's daughter. She becomes best friends with her. She is captured by her parents and tortured. She saves her sister from her parents. She gets her sister's memories back and gets out of Fallinel. She gets a spell from her new friend. She takes a pinky bone to save her friend Kristen if they can. She faced her fear of being the last one of her friends alive. She killed her dad with a punch with her new spell. She makes her friend a spell to understand subtext. She gets adopted by the werewolf. “You're real easy to love, and anyone who couldn't figure that out is a real bozo.” She forgives her sister and lets her move in. She gets a job to afford classes before telling anyone she needed help. She tried to save her friends goddess. She becomes a party legend. She convinced the council of stars to pay her, using her friend's dance to battle for it. She gets him appointed the Oracle of Dance. She got possessed in her friends suitcase. She's willing to do anything for her friends. She helps her friend pass barbarian classes, she divines that her friend will be a good paladin and helps her smite. She stayed sitting down in the last stand and never got hit, but was a big reason they passed. She made a simulacrum of Kristen. She was ready to fight for Kristen. She killed a dragon with a punch. “You’re my sister.” To her friend mourning for the loss of her simulacrum. She doesn't have to be afraid of being alone anymore, her sister wants to eat ice cream and do magic forever (together). They're going to kill their mom. She's a good kid, she's the Oracle.

I spent... So long on this one. It is 12:42 and I am tired. I looked up the transcripts of the episode.

[sassycheesecake]

Hii I love ur blog and I was wondering if you could do hc's of salusa kiyoomi, komori motoya, atsumu miya, and hoshiumis type of s/o? Thanksss❤️‼️

Hello little cake! Of course I can! I hope it is to your liking ❤️

Kiyoomi Sakusa

I am 95% sure Kiyoomi would have a s/o who is more on the quiet side yet still confident

Since he is dealing with loud teammates on a daily basis timeskip, he prefers it if it’s more quiet

Obviously his s/o can have their silly moments but they should know their boundaries

Kiyoomi would definitely look for a s/o who can take care of themselves, physically and mentally

His s/o would also have to bring great patience and understanding into the beginning of the relationship

It takes some time for the Outside Hitter to warm up to someone

But once his s/o has broken down his walls and melted off the ice-cold facade, Kiyoomi is the most attentive boyfriend

He cleans, he has impeccable hygiene and incredibly smart

He 1000% has a routine for how to do things at his home or how he spends his day, his s/o has to accept his busy schedule and adjust to it

THE BEST LISTENER!

Kiyoomi may not be the best advice giver but if you need to vent, man‘s gonna listen without interruption

Invites you to all his games and you need to wear his jersey

I headcannon Kiyoomi is a very jealous person fight me

Please no nicknames for him (his partner would get the famous scowl)

I can see Kiyoomi dating someone who does not have a lot of contact with other people in their work life, so probably IT or a writer for example

Tolerates medical field workers😂

Motoya Komori

Motoya is on the tier list of golden retriever boyfriends

He’s so understanding, so cute and very romantic

I think it doesn’t really matter to Motoya what his s/o looks like or if his s/o is more quiet or more loud

Motoya grew up with Mr. anxiety himself, so he knows exactly what to do if you have panic attacks or suffer under panic disorders

But with every professional athlete, Motoya needs someone who understands his busy schedule and shouldn’t get mad about him going away for quite a while on away games or longer training days

Trust is everything to Motoya!

His s/o shouldn’t be a sarcastic person, Motoya would get annoyed by it eventually

Lowkey needs Sakusa‘s approval

Motoya has a high social battery, so his s/o should be able to handle lots of meet ups and social outings

His partner should be able to get along with his family, especially Sakusa since he is very close with him

Communication is also very important to Motoya, his s/o NEEDS to tell him if something is bothering them

Atsumu Miya

Cheeky asshole (my bae)

I can see Atsumu going for either a confident person like himself or someone submissive

Either would work but it would be more compatible if his s/o would be more submissive (even in the bedroom)

His s/o would also have to be tolerant of his direct behavior and shouldn’t take everything he says directly to heart (Atsumu can be mean at times and if he’s mad or moody, his s/o shouldn’t be too sensitive about it)

Atsumu needs a s/o who is smaller than him, he is a big teaser and loves to be teased back

S/o shouldn’t be afraid of physical affection, Atsumu is BIG on pda (kissing in public, occasional butt squeezes)

His partner shouldn’t be too clingy, Atsumu is very dedicated to his sport!

If Atsumu loses a game, his partner should be respectful about him wanting alone time or comfort

His partner can be athletic or in not so top shape, yet he would probably prefer one that can somewhat keep up with his stamina and go on runs with him or even train with him

His s/o HAS to get along with his twin brother, if they don’t like each other, it’s an absolute NO-GO for Atsumu (he may never admit it out loud but Osamu is Atsumu‘s whole world besides volleyball)

Kōrai Hoshiumi

Seagull boi

Would need a s/o who doesn’t mind his loud mouth

His s/o should be his number one fan and be quite feisty and a proud character

His partner should definitely be around his height or taller than him

Kōrai is a very competitive person, he would love to have a partner he can have bets with or fight against (like gaming, playing sports etc)

Kōrai doesn’t care what body shape his partner has, he will love them regardless

The bigger nerd his partner is, the better

Would have to be a big fan of animals, since his best friend is a vet and Kōrai occasionally has pets staying with him

Probably will adopt like 2 dogs with his s/o

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Emaciated Villain Used as Entertainment at a Hero's Party Part 9

Warnings: severely injured & abused villain, caretaking/recovery whump, panic attack

He wrapped his arms around his stomach and breathed shallowly, focusing on not having another panic attack. His new owner would hate that, wouldn’t she? Everyone always did.

Hero's gut twisted with guilt and sympathy, and she wondered how she could possibly earn his trust when he was still so terrified of her. And she couldn't blame him for that fear; he'd just survived what were easily the worst days of his life and was still practically half-dead on her bed. She would have a similar reaction if the roles were reversed.

Hopefully, with proper care, Villain would start remembering her – remembering how she was one of the most lenient and kind people among the hero team.

Wordlessly, she went and grabbed the medical kit to start fixing up the wounds that she hadn't tended to yet, along with a few others that Villain had accidentally torn open again in his futile struggles during Superhero’s brief visit. She set it on the nightstand as she crawled onto the bed, reaching in the kit and pulling out some gauze and medical wrap.

"Will you let me take care of you?" Hero asked quietly, raising an eyebrow at Villain. She wanted to make it look like a choice, in hopes that it would ease his anxiety. In reality, she was going to help him whether he wanted it or not – but at least she could be gentle about it.

She knew full-well she could easily pin the ex-villain down while she treated his wounds, but she wanted to try getting Villain to willingly accept her help first, to build shaky trust. If she restrained him first, it might make him panic again. So it was worth a try to coax him into opening up more.

Villain lifted his face out of his curled state to look at her. Why bother with the kind act? He wanted to yell the words, scream them till he was hoarse. But... his mind flashed to the morgue. Cages lining the walls. The smell of blood, rotting flesh and death.

He nodded ever so slightly. He didn't want to get hurt again.

Hero sighed in relief and offered a small, reassuring smile as she came closer, intentionally slowing her movements to avoid spooking him too badly as she delicately reached out and grabbed his arms, gently pulling them away from his curled up form so she could better see the damage to his midsection.

Villain did his best to take deep, steady breaths, but they were still ragged as the hero gently examined his midsection. She gently prodded at his right rib and he nearly passed out from the excruciating pain that hit him.

"Yikes, that's a bad one," Hero said aloud, examining the giant bruise that had formed over the rib. Only time could heal that one.

She shifted her focus to the gash in his side that he'd re-opened, carefully soaking up the fresh blood with a clean rag before pressing a large bandage over the wound, grimacing as she knew how much it would hurt.

Villain let out a strangled cry. Pain. So much pain.

His stomach twisted again. He hadn't eaten since... No. That was how you drew your attention to the hunger. And that only made the pain worse. He bit his tongue against another cry, hoping desperately she would soon be done.

"You're doing great, just hang in there a bit longer," Hero murmured. Her hands moved with practiced skill over his injuries, swiftly treating them until finally... the worst was over. She decided to give Villain a brief break from enduring the necessary pain of having his wounds treated to make sure he wouldn't pass out.

Hero sat back on her legs with a sigh, her pitying gaze flicking over Villain's broken body once more. She was still disgusted that Superhero could inflict this much suffering onto someone for the sake of 'fun'.

"Is... Is there anything I can get for you?" She hesitantly offered.

Villain shook his head. What a disgusting display, he thought to himself. Pretending to actually care about him. Mind games, just like the ones Superhero had once played with him.

But no. He had to be submissive, or things would hurt more. And even worse, a weak part of him hoped Hero had been acting when the executioner had come in. But in the end he was still her plaything, and he was to be her loyal dog. Nothing more.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

@starz8nk @redwinesupanover @whumpisgoodwhumpislife @theforeverdyingperson

@writing-with-olive @whatwhump

[amazinglyegg]

a bit of an angsty ask-- could you do companions react to sole having a panic attack?

Of course! Angsty prompts are my favorite <3

Companions react: Sole having a panic attack

Includes: Cait, Curie, Codsworth, Danse, Deacon, Gage, Hancock, Maccready, Maxson, Nick, Piper, Preston, and X6

Cait: 

As long as she’s known Sole for more than a few days she’ll be pretty decent at comfort

She gets it. Panic attacks suck. All she can do is try to make it less-sucky.

Won’t get all sappy or dramatic but will just sit with Sole somewhere and remind them that they’re alright

She also won’t let it overstay it’s welcome either, if that makes sense.

Once the panic attack is over and Sole’s willing to continue Cait will just get up and go along with her day, not bringing extra attention to what happened or trying to talk about it or anything

Curie:

Catch her re-reading (or even writing) notes while Sole’s panicking

Obviously Sole’s comfort is top priority but Curie doesn’t remember everything she’s supposed to do! She’s gotta read up on it!

“Think about something nice… like a field of flowers, or a puppy!”

She's very empathetic so she might end up crying a bit alongside Sole, and will probably tell Sole to just ignore her and focus on themself

Great at talking through emotions with! She'll never judge Sole for what they're feeling, even if it's "irrational" or "dramatic". Emotions are confusing, she gets it!

Codsworth:

Codsworth will do whatever he can to make up for his lack of ability to give physical comfort

Blankets, drinks, distractions via books or games, more blankets…

A lot of verbal comfort as well, but he might gear towards gentle jokes or stories rather than traditional comfort

He will mother-hen Sole for a while, even after the panic attack is over. Acts of service is his love language and he really wants Sole to know how much he loves them!

Might stress-clean afterwards, he’s just really worried about Sole and has a bit of abandonment issues he's gotta work through

Danse:

Surprisingly he’s not terrible at helping!

Gets Sole away from the situation, gives them some water, asks simple yes/no questions, etc. etc.

You can kind of tell he has a mental checklist going on and once he exhausts it he just kinda sits there and waits for the panic attack to end

Other than that he has no real clue what to say, so don't expect much more than a "there, there" and an awkward shoulder pat

He's definitely open for Sole if they need to vent or whatever but he's terrible at letting them know that, so Sole will probably have to be the one to initiate any further conversations about it

Catch him reading some medical book written in the 1900's for advice and going up to Sole like "Have you tried cocaine?"

Deacon:

Uhh. Panic.

Deacon is NOT good with these things! Lots of awkward laughter and (gentle) jokes and tense body language that kinda makes Sole a little more stressed

He’ll get better with time (and practice) though, although he may still need Sole to tell him what they need from him from time to time

He IS good at reading body language and such, so it won't take long for him to pick up details like whether they want to be touched or not

Definitely mentally noting down what triggers Sole’s anxiety so he can help them avoid it in the future

Gage:

Will straight up admit he has no clue what to do.

Doesn’t want to make things worse and doesn’t want to accidentally piss off Sole so he’ll probably just give them space and leave a beer next to them

The best Sole will get out of him is a pat on the back

Does defend Sole from any onlookers and will gently guide them somewhere more private if there are people around when they have the panic attack

To him, he'd be mortified if anyone saw him panicking like that! Catch him telling Sole embarrassing stories about himself so they feel better about being that vulnerable around him (even if they don't mind at all)

Hancock:

I think he’ll be good at recognizing the signs of a panic attack and comforting Sole even if they aren’t super close yet

He’s just the type of guy to get along with strangers, and that goes with comforting them too

He’ll rub Sole’s back and talk them through it quietly without drawing too much attention to it

He’s willing to just continue the conversation or act like nothing’s happening if it’ll help Sole - sometimes ignoring it will make it go away faster!

Generally just lets Sole take the lead and picks up on what they want/need from him

Nick Valentine

Okay we all know he'd be AMAZING at this

He'd notice Sole's anxiety, potentially before they even have the panic attack, and will lead them away somewhere calmer to de-stress

He's great at reassuring them of whatever they need to hear ("It's going to be okay, you're safe, I'm here...) and he'll stay calm and composed in the process

Honestly wouldn't be surprised if he kept like, a stuffed animal or something in his giant coat of his for this reason

Might be hesitant on physical touch, or even eye contact - he's self conscious and afraid he'll freak them out with his eyes or metal hand

WILL let them wear his coat like a blanket though... if they can excuse the smell of cigarettes

Maccready:

He doesn’t know what to do but he can’t just leave them, so he’ll try anything really

Talking them through breathing exercises, keeping them away from crowds/busy areas, patting their shoulder awkwardly, hell he’ll even give them a hug if they ask

Tries to just be there for them, even if he doesn’t really know what to say or do

Might just resort to “keeping watch” by sitting a few feet away from them with a gun, both so they can have their space and so they know they’re safe and he’s still within earshot.

Maxson:

Definitely a “just calm down” / “just breathe” type of guy

Either that or he’ll straight up panic and send Sole to the med bay thinking they're having a heart attack

He’s never really had anyone to role model good responses to these kinds of situations before! He’s trying his hardest but he has no clue what to do

He WANTS to know what to say though, so if Sole explains it to him after the fact he’ll pay attention and use their advice for any future panic attacks

Canonically he views mental health as just as important as physical health, so he will definitely take Sole seriously and do whatever it takes to keep them happy and healthy

Piper:

“Haha what’s wrong Sole?? 😀 … oh shit what’s wrong 😥” type of reaction

Basically it might take her a bit to realize Sole’s having a panic attack, but she’ll do what she can to help once she notices it

Takes “rest and digest” literally - will give Sole food and tuck them into bed if she can

Might try to throw every coping strategy she knows at Sole all at once in hopes one of them will work well

Uhh BREATHING and FOOD and and PET DOGMEAT do you want to go on a walk?? How about some hot chocolate???

Might be a good idea for Sole to make a checklist for her to go down one by one...

Preston:

Great at speaking gently and keeping Sole from panicking more

Slow movements, low voice, maybe holding their hand or rubbing their back comfortingly

He doesn’t always know exactly what to say so he’ll focus on self-soothing for himself to help Sole calm down as well

Things like taking deep breaths so Sole can follow along or going on a walk with them

He's also very respectful of their space and privacy, and will immediately give them space if they ask for it (even though he's almost worried sick about them)

Will reassure them that he doesn't think any differently of them or their ability to lead the Minutemen!

X6:

I think X6 would actually be pretty good at comforting Sole, all things considered

The last thing you need while having a panic attack is other people panicking as well, right?

And X6 will definitely stay calm, that’s for certain.

He might also end up overloading Sole with facts about panic attacks though

Sole will be like “I think I’m having a heart attack” and X6 will respond by giving a list of every single symptom of both to compare and contrast as proof it's a panic attack

You can definitely catch him silently panicking the first time Sole has a panic attack though

He’s not good with emotions man he’s trying his hardest

[yandereunsolved]

You're My Cult Leader - ,, yandere Kai Anderson

tw(s): yandere themes, Kai fuckery, graphic gore, suggestive themes, Kai threatening to cross your boundaries, descriptive depictions of anxiety and panic attacks, self harm, (Kai) glorification of self harm, talks of mental hospitals & mental illness, demonization of medication & mental health (influenced by Kai), baby trapping

ꨄ︎ He found you by pure accident. He was scrolling through Reddit on r/AITA when he found your account. You were asking if breaking up with your partner after they had a mental breakdown and pushed you down the stairs made you a bad person or not. Interest sparked in his mind. If you were this insecure that you had to get validation from others when your ex was clearly in the wrong, you must be easy to manipulate. He wanted to see more of who and what you were, so he hacked your accounts. He didn't do anything more than scroll through him and store your information and passwords marked 'Serpent' on a file put on a hard drive he keeps of all his cult members. He keeps it just in case they try to betray him. They wouldn't dare go against him if they knew he had all of their skeletons locked in his closet. 

ꨄ︎ He marks all of his files with the names of mythical animals. All cult members go under one large file named 'Serpent'. In his inner circle, he has another file named 'Sphinx'. As he learns more about you, he compiles an entirely separate file just for you. He names it 'Phoenix'—an immortal bird that cyclically regenerates, obtaining new life by rising from the ashes of its predecessor. He even begins referring to himself as Phoenix when around his other members. Of course you don't know him; you two haven't even had a conversation yet, but you are already part of his cult. It was just a matter of putting a few more things in place to have the perfect meeting.

ꨄ︎ What he didn't expect was to actually begin to form an attraction to you when he had his little 'excursions' with you, stalking you wherever you went. He resents this. You aren't worth his time and attention. He is the divine ruler, a being of divinity. You are just another lamb to be slaughtered within the confines of his cult. Yet he notices how wide your hips are, how good your medical history is, and how motherly you are. He stores it away in his mind. You'd be a good possible womb to store his messiah baby in. He does need the best genetics. It doesn't matter if you are afab or amab; you are having his baby.

ꨄ︎ He introduces himself to you after you had a shitty day at work. He invites you out to your favorite cafe. Huh, how did he know? He knows everything about you. Including what you do in the privacy of your bedroom when you think no one is looking. He speaks to you like an old friend or a lover. You two really seem to have a genuine connection. He's a smart guy, 135 IQ; he toured in Iraq; and he graduated with a double degree. Not to mention, when he stood up and stretched, you could see his muscular physique underneath his gray sweatshirt and joggers. Now you want to know more about him, see him more, and get the validation you crave because you have been starved by others. Just as he planned.

ꨄ︎ It's so strange that after that, the people you hated most started disappearing. It was all over the news. People started seeing you as bad luck. Some people thought you were just a serial killer who hadn't been caught yet. Others thought it was because of some twisted secret admirer of yours. They would both have reasons to think that. The bodies came up in parts. Each on the bed in their bedroom. They were cut into chunks and placed to make little hearts. First, there was nothing else. Then the killer got bolder with the weird smiley face drawn in blood. Eventually, the killer or killers had another collective sign off: 'From F.I.T.— your divine ruler.'

Not even the police would touch you. No one would. Only Kai was there for you in those trying times. He drove you deeper into his grasp. Not suffocating at first just so you wouldn't see it until it's too late—like a boa constrictor constricting around its sleeping prey.

ꨄ︎ He offered you a place to stay and promised to protect you from the evils of the world. He makes you as scared of the outside as possible. Think of all the horrors out there. Can you not see the killings all over the news? Can you not realize that the country is being flooded with dangerous people? Are you so unaware that someone could slit your throat if you so much as stepped outside the door? Kai is there to stoke your fears, like feeding an ever-growing flame by placing more wood in the pile. He makes you so paranoid that you aren't even sure if being around him is safe. He assures you being around him is the only safe place. He subtly threatens to take his protection away if you disobey him.

ꨄ︎ You don't interact with Winter. You actually aren't allowed to. Kai expressly forbids it because he's afraid his sister might make you queer. Sure, you are allowed to look at her and maybe make small talk if she is around you and Kai, but she isn't allowed alone with you—ever. Kai just can't risk it. He knows how tempting women can be, and he can't let his precious little lamb be tempted by his sister.

ꨄ︎ He begins integrating you into F.I.T. even though you are unaware. You don't exactly know what it's called, but everyone seems to treat you kindly. Not too kindly, though; Kai doesn't want your affections to be given to one of his ungrateful, pathetic followers. This is really the first touch of human interaction you have had in months, other than Kai, of course. It's like a new breath of fresh air. You may refuse to leave the house and Kai's side, but at least you have more people to talk to. It's like torture when Kai leaves you all alone. No one else is allowed around you, not that you know that. You only know that they seem to distance themselves almost purposefully, even methodically. It's like Kai is ripping your very heart out of your chest and taking it with him when he leaves.

ꨄ︎ Sometimes it's even worse when his 'friends' are around. He acts all aloof and distant with you. He calls you slut, whore, little one, and worst of all—sweetheart. Whenever he calls you sweetheart, you know you have messed up around the others. During their meetings, you are forced to sit in his lap. Most of the time, he forces you to straddle his waist. If you speak or even squeak, he'll scold you in front of everyone. You always end up having hickeys on you the day after. You always have some sort of hickey or bruise on you. He'll occasionally kiss you on the neck during these meetings. At first, you were uncomfortable. You tried to confront him about it, and he brushed you off.

"You like it, don't lie. You like all of the attention on you. You are my little slut after all."

You wanted to argue, but he had a way of making you speechless, so flustered that you became light-headed. After that, you didn't argue much on the subject.

He doesn't actually allow you to listen, either. He makes you wear these stupid ear plugs that make you feel so idiotic. You only know he scolds you because that's when he takes the earplugs out. He calls these meetings his 'private business'. You don't press him on it because he's already done so much for you. Someone out there is stalking you. Kai is keeping you safe. It's the least you can do to stay out of business; he doesn't want you in.

ꨄ︎ If you are good during these meetings, he rewards you with an outing. You have to stay by him the entire time. That is one of the unspoken rules of being with him. However, that's not really a problem for either of you. That's pretty much the only time that you are outside. He doesn't outright say it's a 'date', but that's what it is to him. You may not know it, but you two are practically married in his eyes. He just has to train you some more. You need to be entirely dependent on him—submissive, feminine, and motherly. That's all he wants. He has given you so much. He just needs to take a little from you. It isn't that big of a deal.

ꨄ︎ You first witnessed Kai's true cruelty when he stapled that poor man to death. You pinkie promised him that you would stay by his side. You pinkie promised that you wouldn't run. So you stood there and watched, and everyone took turns stapling him in the head. The blood gently dribbled down his face, almost peaceful—in complete contrast with the monstrous act being committed. 

He made you kneel before him. He swiped a strip of the oozing blood off of the man's face. He stuck his finger in your mouth and made you lick it off. He asked if you were truly devoted to him as he planted the last staple in the back of the guy's neck. He asked again, his voice more alluring than any song a siren could sing.

"Are you completely and utterly devoted to me?"

You said yes. Why wouldn't you?

"Prove it."

He stood above you with the staple gun discarded on the floor. That night was a lot different than all the other times you 'proved' yourself to Kai. It was much more passionate and tender. You were unable to even move from your spot. It was like nothing else existed except you and Kai. It was addicting. You needed more of him, even more than before. 

It was like that night he had cast a spell on you that stripped away any personality or ideals you had from your previous life. He had broken every part of you. You were now repurposed clay. You were made into a brand new clump for him to mold with his skilled and nimble fingers. You will be his greatest creation yet, for you are completely and utterly his—forever.

ꨄ︎ However, while molding, he's careful not to be too harsh with you. In a way, it's the gentlest and most honest part of Kai you will ever see. You see the moments when he has flashbacks to those times. You get to see when his shoulders heave due to the overwhelming anxiety he feels. You see the few tears that slip from his face. Part of him feels that you have earned this part of him. Another part wants to push those feelings so deep down into the darkness of his soul that they never have a chance of getting out.

ꨄ︎ You'll only see it in subtle ways. At night, he won't force you to snuggle with him, but he'll urge you to. He'll wrap his arms around you and gently whisper about how he'll protect you from all the bad things in this world. It's true on some level. All of this is truly for you. He just can't show his love like a normal man. One thing is for sure—he promises to never be a man like his father. He shakes when he thinks about him, his muscles tightening and his breath shortening. It makes him want to hold you in his embrace forever. To kiss you like it's the last thing he'll ever know. That small and hidden part of him craves your loving touch. That part just wants to be coddled and told he's a good boy. Just telling him you're proud of him is enough for him to drag you off to the bedroom.

ꨄ︎ He makes you pinkie promise. Naturally, you have to tell him everything first—your fears, your fantasies, and how much you love him. He finally speaks a bit of his past. It's the first time you see him breakdown. The first time he has a genuine emotional response. The mask slips only for a moment, but you're hesitant. You know, sometimes he manipulates you—maybe. That's what one of the others told you before they were killed. Still, it seems real, and it feels real. You can't imagine him telling anyone else such private things. He pulls you into a hug and rocks you back and forth. He sticks his face in the crook of your neck greedily. He treats you like you'll disappear with one blink of his eyes.

"You aren't ever allowed to leave me, darling."

He's gritting his teeth, and suddenly the Kai you know all too well is back. From time to time, you can't help but wonder: How much of old Kai influenced new Kai to be so helplessly entranced by your very presence?

ꨄ︎ No part of you is hidden from him. No part of your body is left unseen or explored. There is no part of your personality that he hasn't memorized. There isn't any memory that he hasn't plucked from your head already. If you remember anything, even the most mundane, you are under strict orders to allow the words to fall from your lips—no matter what you were doing before. There are no 'boundaries', in most cases. Kai is an asshole, but he isn't that much of an asshole. If you've been a good little lamb, then there's no need to bring up painful memories. He wouldn't want his obedient servant to be plagued with fear of others in their heart. However, act bratty, and he has no qualms of making himself a new set of memories for you to gain PTSD from.

ꨄ︎ The first time his hold on you loosened a bit is something you won't ever forget. You were looking for him when you heard moaning. Meadow had gone missing earlier, and you were worried. You found her partially tied up, and your heart broke in two. Kai looked back at you with no emotion in his eyes. He simply dismissed you with a 'get out'. 

You were so horrified that you quickly packed up and ran from the house. You snatched a stack of emergency bills that Kai always kept under his mattress. You slept in some shitty motel for a few nights. You planned on escaping to another state and starting anew. If you could just get a phone, you could call someone. Yet your heart was torn in two. Those tendrils of fear were wrapped so tightly around your mind that you were paralyzed with indecision. You love him, but he was cheating on you. He was supposed to protect you from the world! You forgot the most important lesson—to protect yourself from him.

You had multiple panic attacks each day while hiding in that motel. You feared stepping out of the door. You just couldn't do it. The 'what if' was too much. You knew that, rationally, no one was going to jump out and kill you. Right? Right...? RIGHT? You couldn't even open the door. Your hand reached the knob, and yet you couldn't open it. You just sank to the floor and continuously sobbed. You couldn't stop the feeling of dread and weakness.

What was he going to do when he found you? That thought had your head spinning. Your legs just gave out then and there. It was the one question that ran through your mind like a never-ending track carrying the train of your anxious thoughts. 

You had to get breakfast delivered to your room. You had to wear your clothes for multiple days. You didn't have any toiletries except the ones provided by the hotel. You were too paranoid to even take a shower. You needed Kai. You still needed him. You couldn't even breathe correctly without him!

ꨄ︎ You finally broke down. It was like he knew you would. You went to that campaign of his. You were barely able to step outside, but the promise of seeing him made you more than eager to leave. Once you spotted him, all your fears seemed to melt away. Then you saw Meadow shoot him. Your heart broke again—she fucks him, and then she shoots him? Who the hell does this woman think she is? 

You saw her turning the gun on herself, but you beat her to it. Another woman was screaming at the both of you. She took the gun. You just kept hitting Meadow. You don't know what came over you. All the bitter jealousy and hatred from that night just came up. You let it all out on her. Eventually, you heard a snap. That same woman was screaming at you and pointing the gun at your head. You killed Meadow. You snapped her neck. You felt good, in control. A part of you even liked it.

You didn't get to mull over it because the cops arrested that woman and led you away. You rushed up to Kai, who was on a stretcher. The emergency medical responders tried to push you away. Kai grabbed your hand and pulled you down onto him. With his other arm, he dug his nails into the side of your head. He sloppily made out with you until you were pulled away.

"It was all for you, baby. Come and ride in the ambulance with me. You've been bad—and you'll atone for your sins once I get better."

Those are the words he whispered in your ear. Your mixed emotions led you to feel so much, but how could you refuse? A moth is always drawn to a flame, just like you are always drawn to Kai. Hopefully, you won't get burned again by his lies and deceit.

ꨄ︎ Once he is home from the hospital and recovering, he chastises you. He screams, pushes things, and threatens you. He can feel actual tears filling his eyes at the fact that you tried to leave him. How dare you.

"Can't you see you worthless slut!? This has all been for you. I had to get Meadow out of the way for you and for us. Yet you run off to some shitty motel and hide there? You are pathetic."

Wait, he knew about the motel? Of course he did. He just wanted to allow you to make your own choice. Sure, he was going to drag you back to him anyway, but you coming back somewhat willingly just proves the control he has over you. It feels so good to have you twisted around his finger.

ꨄ︎ He makes you cut yourself because of this. It's a punishment that he often uses. He wants you to feel what he feels when you disobey him. Sometimes he cuts you himself. He teases the burning wounds and touches them. He kisses each one of them and licks the oozing blood leaving your veins.

He sees it as just another way for him to claim you. He feels that possessive urge inside of him cool when he sees the scars you have given yourself because of him. He enjoys cutting extra deep into your skin to hear those pained whimpers escape your sweet lips. He gets even happier when you get self-conscious about them. 'No, baby, you are so beautiful with those scars.' It's just another way to control you. You have to live off that praise from him, affirming your self-harming behaviors.

ꨄ︎ It evolves into a ritual. When he gets really pent-up, he cuts you up and drinks your blood. He tells you that's the most divine thing he's ever tasted. He kisses you and makes you taste yourself. He'll swirl your own blood around in your mouth with his tongue. He'll barely allow you to breathe. It's like it restarts his mind. He's calm after. He feels like a blank slate.

He once did it in front of his cult. You were sitting in his lap. You could feel him growing more livid and tense. He pulled out a pocket knife and gently knicked the side of your neck. He licked and kissed the blood away. He promised to give some of your blood to his inner circle if they all proved themselves to him. No, they aren't going to be allowed to touch your skin. They may drink from a vial. You are dreading the day that it becomes a normal practice within the cult.

ꨄ︎ That isn't the only punishment you'll get if you severely misbehave. He isn't against locking you in the basement and chaining you up. He'll deprive you of food and water and will only give his body to you as sustenance. Later on, he builds a metal cage in the basement. He uses it both for torture and to shove you in there if you are disobeying him. The cage is much worse than being chained to a wall. If you get chained to the wall, at least he'll let you near him. If you get caged, then some random follower of his just comes down and throws whatever shitty rations in between the bars. Most of the time the food isn't even edible—mold and other infectious diseases are tainting it. The little bit of water you get is wasted when they throw it on you.

By the time you are let out, you are malnourished and touch starved. Kai always makes sure to give the most heavenly aftercare. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear and tells you that this didn't have to happen; all you had to do was behave. He gives you a bath with rose petals, and he gets out the fancy lotions, oils, and shit that he can't even pronounce. He makes sure that you have a fresh pair of clothes and the best meal one can dine on. He even took it slow with you that night. He is passionate and loving.

It's a side of him you rarely get to see...

ꨄ︎ Sometimes you want to act bratty just to see if you can get brown-haired Kai to come out and play again. It's a treacherous game. One wrong behavior, and you may end up kneeling before him, cutting yourself up for his entertainment once again. You can just do little things to manipulate him just a tiny bit. You are his well-trained bitch that occasionally loosens their collar and nips at their owner playfully. You have learned how to manipulate from the best, after all. Most of the time, Kai understands your angle, but rarely can he be tricked into misunderstanding your true intentions. 

ꨄ︎ Accidentally getting hurt can be one way to possibly soften him up. Although you do have a half chance of just being called a clumsy bitch by him. If it is someone else, accidentally or not, hurting you, not even the deities from the highest of heavens can save that person. He'll either beat them to death in the moment or plan their slow torture and subsequent death in the cage downstairs. After taking care of the filth, you may see a little bit of brown-haired Kai. He'll take care of any cuts or bruises and kiss your temple. You may or may not have paid that asshole five bucks so they could push you on the pavement and threaten you. You were scared to death that Kai would realize what you were doing, but it was more than worth it.

That's just one way that you can manipulate him into letting brown-haired Kai come out and play. 

ꨄ︎ Another one is if you cook for him. If you make him a good manwich, dressed up all pretty with an apron on, he is melting inside. He has this starstruck and dopey expression on his features. It's quickly replaced by indifference, but he is elated internally. If you bake, then all bets are off for cult leader Kai. He's oddly sweet when tasting your sweets because it allows him to regress back to a state of almost childlike innocence. It reminds him of when his mom would bake things with him and teach him to bond with him. His father always thought it was making Kai soft and a sissy, but he refrained from making those comments most of the time.

When you bake those sweets, it's like a positive trigger for him. He'll take a bite and wrap you up in his arms. He'll gently pepper kisses on your face and compliment your skills. A little bit more of brown-haired Kai comes out. He almost seems shy, nervous, and unconfident. Kai doesn't even realize he is acting like this. He just feels safe, like he is home.

ꨄ︎ He puts tracking chips in all of your things after your first attempt to leave him. Anything and everything has some sort of chip in it. He secretly enjoys hand-sowing the chips into all of your clothes and undergarments. It feels so oddly intimate to him. It's just another way to claim you as his. It makes him feel all giddy inside. All the chips are waterproof and extremely durable. He has access codes to all of them and can connect to them through any device he has. If you try to escape one too many times, he will chip you on your inner thigh. That way, he can casually rub his hand over your plush thigh and press his thumb right over where he implanted the tracking chip. It's his favorite way of reminding you that you have no way out—no possible escape from his binding grasp.

ꨄ︎ It doesn't stop there, no. He puts cameras everywhere. Some are in hidden places; others are not. He enjoys just flipping through the cameras on his phone while listening to some idiotic citizen complain about something miniscule for the thousandth time. You were wearing his clothing, just sitting in your shared bed and watching your comfort show. You were enjoying yourself with that innocently lewd expression adorning your now placid features. You just seemed like such a cute house spouse. He may have to excuse himself and go take care of a problem. What? You're just being so good for him. It makes him swell with pride.

ꨄ︎ If you are good enough, then he may allow you the privilege of having internet access. Of course, he is monitoring it. When he is in a good mood, he will act like he is your sugar daddy. Which he technically is, because he pays for everything and you are physically incapable of stopping him. Your wishlist is his. He keeps a list in your file about the types of gifts you like. 

You may just occasionally be surprised with the same exact thing that you had favorited awhile ago. You know it's always Kai doing it because he always buys some lacy or risqué for you to wear. He gifts you; you gift him with your body. Lingerie is just human wrapping paper, after all. He enjoys the present under the wrapping the best. 

He also scrolls through the media you watch. Any political content has a parental lock on it. It has to be approved by him before he allows you to watch it. If there is something intriguing that you decided to watch when you thought you had privacy, Kai may just barge in and ask if you'd like to recreate it.

ꨄ︎ If you get a period... Kai will track it. He will always make sure you have the right period products, foods, and medication. No, nuh uh—he swears he isn't doing it because he just genuinely cares and doesn't want to see you in pain he didn't cause. He's doing it because he can't have the future parent of his messiah baby harming their womb. It wouldn't be responsible if the divine ruler didn't treat your fertility with the respect it deserves. 

You're probably a lot luckier if you are able to get a period. He's a lot more lenient with you. He'll allow you to have mood swings and crying fits. He'll let you eat all the chocolate and sweets you want, as long as you eat the balanced meals he provides. He'll treat you like a god(dess) during that time. When no one is around of course. He completely focuses on your happiness and pleasure during that time.

ꨄ︎ When he gets arrested, you have another panic attack. You had finally settled into a comfortable routine with him. You had succumbed to Stolkhome syndrome. You were just content with it. Your anxiety and fears were still higher than ever, but Kai protected you from all the bad things. Now, the bad men want to take him away from you? You get interviewed many times. You refuse to speak. They call you a victim of his manipulation. They see your scars, and after a doctor gives you a physical examination, they conclude that Kai is an absolute monster. They had to give you anesthesia for the physical examination. It was the only time you talked with any of the police or detectives. It was more like shouting than talking. You thrashed, twisted, and turned to escape them.

In this way, it just proved that Kai was right. They said you were brainwashed by him. No, you weren't. Kai saw the truth in the corrupt institutions. They violated your boundaries for no good reason. Kai violated your boundaries, but for good reasons. You deserved it when he crossed them.

ꨄ︎ They declared you mentally unwell and put you in a mental hospital. You went willingly only because you wanted to be away from the scary people. You only got newer and scarier people. They made you strip, and you had to be constantly watched. It made you yearn for Kai's safety and control.

You lied to get out of it. You said that you were scared to cooperate at first. You weren't brainwashed by him. You were only acting like it because you feared him. They believed you, and within a month, you were out of there. They put you on anxiety and anti-depressants. They urged you to also get a therapist to work through your trauma.

ꨄ︎ You disregarded them. You didn't need therapy! You didn't need some bullshit medication! That's what Kai always said. The medication and psychologists were just there to warp your mind. They aren't there to help you. They are there to make you conform into what society believes is 'mentally well'. You just have a little problem. It's all just fake. Kai would tell you if you had problems. He helps you out. He keeps you safe. He'll tell you what to do.

ꨄ︎ You helped him escape prison. Naturally, it was hard to get in to visit him because some of the guards had heard whispers of what Kai had done to you. With a little bribe, you managed to secure a monitored conversation with him. He threatened the guard, and suddenly your conversation wasn't monitored anymore. Kai was so unbelievably proud of you. He was so proud of how loyal you are. He rewarded you for such a good job. He remarked you with hickeys and bruises, so people know who you belong to once again. He possessively rubbed circles into your inner thigh over your tracking chip. You wouldn't let the bad men take it out, and because of a lot of red tape, they legally couldn't do it without your consent. It just made him ready for another round. How did he get so lucky to have a person like you who loves him so dearly? A lot of abuse, manipulation, and Stockholm syndrome.

ꨄ︎ As you sit on his lap in one of the visitation rooms, he formulates a plan with you. Soon enough, you are dressed in a guard's uniform and stressed out of your mind. You were barely able to help him escape. Your hands were shaking the entire time. You must have taken over half of the bottle of that stupid anxiety medication just to get through it. You were a little out of it and threw most of the pills up after. 

Kai had to punish you for taking medication you weren't allowed to. He just worries about you, okay? They almost got his little lamb. He couldn't have your personality numbed by any 'medication'.

ꨄ︎ It all climaxes when he confronts Ally while she is running for senator. It was all such a blur. One moment they were arguing, and the next Beverly tried to kill Kai. You managed to tackle her and wrestle the gun out of her hands before she shot him. You got shot instead, in the gut. The next few months are extremely hazy for you. You kept going in and out of a coma. When you awoke, a lot had changed in Kai's world, but you remained ever-present.

ꨄ︎ You learned that Winter was gone. You didn't feel much. You didn't get to learn the details of it. It could have been way before you were even aware. Kai always kept you out of the loop about those things. He said it was to protect your pretty little head. You listened to him. You'd always listen to your divine ruler. Kai managed to slander Ally and turn everyone's opinion around. Suddenly, Ally was the one who had abused you and fed you all these lies about Kai. She was arrested and sentenced to death. Beverly met a worse fate. She was brutally mutilated in the same way that your, you forget, you had a stalker once—didn't you? You can't exactly remember.

You know Kai had a hand in it. He always has a hand in everything.

You learned that he truly was a cult leader. Your memories were so repressed and damaged that you were unable to connect the dots. You were overjoyed that Kai won the senatorial seat. He was heading towards the presidential seat next. With that, he had you married. A ring on your finger, forever. A divine ruler did need his spouse. It is crucial.

ꨄ︎ He made sure that you recovered and were right by his side while campaigning. He had a book ghost written for you about how evil Ally Mayfair-Richards was and how a vile feminist cult twisted your mind. Most of it was just sugar-coated lies. Kai's abuses were in there, but they were all said to just be minute things that Ally spun into a defaming web of lies.

He campaigned with you and made sure that all of your clothing was appropriate. He only let you show your scars when it would win him polling points. He still wanted the cutting to be just a you and him thing. He didn't need the press to see the fresher scars and cuts and run a slander campaign against him.

His possessiveness did occasionally overpower his need to dominate the world. He would always keep a hand on your waist, have at least one eye on you, and scare anyone off that tried to get too close to you.

ꨄ︎ It climaxed when he realized he needed to push family values. So he announced your pregnancy during an interview on some right-wing news platforms. You were understandably confused. You aren't pregnant. Kai plans on fixing that. All day and night, he is trying to fill your womb. He is so desperately making it so you will have his heir. Part of it is just publicity. Another wants his messiah baby really badly. He needs to baby trap you so you don't ever leave him. He needs to ultimately mark you as his. What better way than a child? The miniscule brown-haired part of him just wants to be a better father than his own. He just wants to be a better husband for you than his father ever was. He wants to make his mama proud, wherever she is in the afterlife. You wouldn't deny him this, would you? You've already given him so much. Just a little more, and he'll be satisfied. To think this all started with your silly little Reddit post. 

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