#agoraphobia mentioned

[heatedwetblanket]

Pre-OMORI (omori fanfiction) ( click here for the ao3 link :3 )

Summary: basically how headspace became headspace. OR a sunny character study. WARNING sad

words: 2535

For Sunny, it was natural to withdraw entirely from the outside world.   It wasn’t something he willed himself to do.  He was always content with his own company, busying himself in a way that didn’t interfere with others.  He enjoyed the serenity of silence, the slowness of boredom.  He swam in the everlasting present—never in the depths of the past or the heights of the future.

It began as genuine concern.  His mother was nagging, yet gentle.  There was no lock on the bedroom door, and more often than not his mother respected that.  She was always good at those kinds of things, he remembered.  He was silent, and she was patient.  She gave him time, and then gave him some more.  She gave so much that she began to forget who she was giving time to.  How tall has he gotten since the last time she’s seen him?  

Eventually, she began to crack.  Desperation warped her voice as she talked at him.  Her questions were met with silence.  If she put her ear up to the door, she could hear her son gasp for air, knowing she caused his drowning.  She knew he was hurting, but he was no outlier.

One time she approached his door.  She garbled words about her rotting daughter and her invisible son and Sunny couldn’t breathe the thick emulsion around him and then she left.  Silence returned once more.

This was the height of her short-lived habit of talking to his door.  It was terrifying every time, each minute lasting an hour.  She knocked.   She said she was going to open the door repeatedly, even going so far as to turn the knob.  She would always retreat, almost never fulfilling her threat.  She only followed through once.

That one time, all he could do was stare at her and breathe.  Stare when she stared.  Stared until she closed the door.  He trembled in place as his room was breached and raided by her eyes. The room isn’t the same anymore, he thought.  Something escaped when his mother opened the door.  He couldn’t get it back if he tried.  That day became a little less okay than it was before.  He stared at his mother and saw grief drip down her face.

This is what he hated about withdrawing from the outside world.  The outside will ask for him.  It will knock on his door and cry in his absence and ask when he’s coming back to school and tumble on forward when he wants it to stop.  He didn’t want it to ask about him and tug him around by the hand.  He wanted his hand severed so that the outside would never grab it again.

His mother would leave meals at the door.  She used to knock, but the action felt too loud.  The door would crumble under the tap of her knuckle, so she stopped.  Sunny could hear her footsteps, anyways.  He could feel her presence and her breath and her heavy thoughts as she left mac-n-cheese in front of the door of her son that she hasn’t seen in weeks.

She would get excited to see the dirty bowl that spawned in front of his door. She would relax when she heard Sunny’s footsteps above her.  They were proof that her son was still there.

- - - - - -

Sunny spent his days and his nights in his room.  His mornings, his evenings, his high ‘noons, and tea times.  His room was average by all means, including Scholastic Book-Fair merchandise, a GameBoy, and a radio.  They provided momentary relief, but Sunny’s mind wouldn’t be entertained for long.  He could never fully remove himself.  Books, which provided a pocket universe, didn’t give Sunny an escape.  Sunny’s mind never felt fully understood by the authors taking up space on his shelves.  He could see parts of himself, but never a whole.  A few came close, yet Sunny always found a loose thread to unravel fantasy worlds and charming characters.  Tetris on his GameBoy never hypnotized him, unlike Kel.  His radio was too loud even with the volume knob just above mute.  That bothered him. 

He mainly stared at nothing.  His room was silent, his eyes were empty.  The ominous “future” made air emulsify, so his mind lazily wandered to mull over things he liked.  He reminded himself of the past so he could feed from the second-hand, leftover joy that he forgot to consume the first time around.  It wasn’t long before he began to think about his friends—before he started reminiscing.

Sunny loved his friends.  He never stopped loving them.  Not once.  It's just that distance never hurt.  They were outside and he was inside, and he didn’t mind it at all.  He still thought of everyone as his friends.  They never stopped hanging out with him, even though they haven’t visited Sunny and Sunny hasn’t left his room.

Whenever he tilted his head in a certain manner, or thought of some awful pun, he’d imagine his friends would comment on it.  He’d spot an old book on his desk and Kel would complain about reading that book for school.  He’d see a spider scurrying across his floor and he could feel Hero shaking in fear.  He’d watch an airborne speck of dust fly about, and he’d see Aubrey waving her hand in front of his face, ready to ask what exactly he was looking at.

It was simple, normal interactions.  It was the conversations for the sake of sharing each other’s company.  Sunny only nodded or replied briefly, but his friends were still happy to talk to him.  He kept his own silence, but he wanted his friends to be with him, too.

Sometimes he would silently ask a question to the wall, and Kel and Aubrey would respond with the same answer.  They would shout “jinx” at each other, and then “jinx again.”

“You owe me a soda!” Aubrey yelled.

“Well YOU owe ME two sodas!” Kel countered. “Hey! You can’t do that!”

“Yes I can! Plus you didn’t get me a soda last time I said jinx…”

“That doesn’t mean I gotta get two! And I’m the one who yelled jinx first.” Aubrey would cross her arms and pout.

“Well I don’t care.”

“You cared when I’d get a free soda for you—”

“That you STILL haven’t gotten me, by the way”

“Stop interrupting me!

“Well maybe say something I like for once!”

“HEY!”

Sunny thought to himself for a little bit.  In this situation, he would leave them both in the treehouse and head into his kitchen.  He would find a bottle of coke in the fridge, and fetch two cups from the cupboard.  Clumsily holding glass and plastic close to his chest, he would return to the treehouse and pour his friends a drink.  They would all drink soda in the treehouse.  They would be happy.  He wanted them to be happy.

They were often happy when they were hanging out in the treehouse.  Trinkets were strewn about the place and the calendar watched them.  Their voices would fill the space and Sunny would close his eyes and listen to the cadence of it. He loved everything about his friends, from their unique footsteps to humming and whistling and giggling.  Sometimes all he could do was listen, since he’d be overwhelmed by the joy they shared with him.  He’d have to close his eyes or look down, so he wouldn’t completely exhaust himself.

Sometimes, after sleepovers, Sunny’s face would be sore the next day.  Or, Sunny’s voice would be a little raspy from use.  His friends brought out everything in him.  They made everything better and warmer.  Even during those times at Basil’s house—Sunny’s mom would insist on picking up Sunny herself. Basil’s house is a two minute walk away, but Sunny’s mom showed up regardless.  She was “picking up her son,” but she coincidentally got along with Basil’s mom very well.  They’d talk and talk, each “goodbye” sparking another hour-long discussion.  That regular period of waiting, normally seen as boring, was made valuable because Basil was there.

He’d throw a tired look at Basil, and Basil would look back knowingly, their moms oblivious to the setting sun.  They’d sometimes talk, but mostly just sit in silence and wait.  They’d lay on the floor with their heads next to each other, sitting up when they think their moms are finally done.  When Sunny’s mom leans on the kitchen counter once more, Basil and Sunny share a sigh. Followed by a giggle or two.  They didn’t need to speak to know that their play-date would be a little longer than planned.

Basil had a book all about botany.  It was his pride and joy—he got it for his 11’th birthday.  He brought it to the treehouse once.  He and Sunny were hunched around the book face open on the floor.  Basil grinned to himself as he pointed at a picture of a cactus.

“This one’s definitely Kel.”

Sunny liked that memory.  He had pancakes for breakfast and wore his favorite socks that day.

Kel popped his head through the open door.  He was still on the ladder, so it looked like he was just a talking head.  “Did’ya call me?”

Basil’s head snapped to Sunny.  Sunny stared back.  Kel’s brow furrowed.  Basil started giggling.  Sunny smiled.

Kel looked confused.  Or he would’ve.  Yes, he would’ve looked confused if Kel was there. If Sunny and Basil and Kel all hung out that day.  Basil always kept that book in his room, he remembered.  He’d never take it anywhere because he didn’t want to scratch the shiny cover.  Or mess up the gold pages.  He told me that one day at his house.  But, Sunny just made a memory better.  He felt something close to okay.  So, he formed a new habit.  He would remember and recount events that never happened.  Over and over and over again.  He altered his interactions, switching out who was there like dolls in a dollhouse.  He would change the setting.  He’d make the treehouse his favorite color.  He’d get an allowance every day instead of every week.  It didn’t need to be real—it needed to make Sunny feel warm.

Feeling warm was good, and Sunny liked to feel good.  His own false memories were intoxicating.  It was addicting to replay happy days and feel something so familiar.  His mind worked against sunrises and sunsets, against the waning moon and flipping calendar pages.  Sunny could spend a week seeing the same day, if he wished.  Time didn’t matter, and that was the most comforting thought he’s had in a while.  Time didn’t need to matter when days passed at his will (at least when he closed his eyes).  Sunny never kept up with his calendar, or even turned the page to the right month.  Before, he hesitated, grieving over a time that passed.  Now, he didn’t have to.  There was nothing to fear.  The calendar could even go backwards, if he wanted it to.

Now, with this colorful world and his friends one door away, he could almost say he felt good.  But just one moment out of his head would sober him to reality.  That didn’t feel good.  Sunny didn’t like being reminded of why he’d never leave his room.  The world was too scary, so he created one that welcomed him with open arms.

Even his own name would remind himself of what was real and what wasn’t. So, Sunny wasn’t Sunny anymore.  He didn’t have to be.  He didn’t have to be sixteen years old.  At sixteen, he had lost so much.  At twelve, he had everything he could’ve asked for.

- - - - - -

Sunny could always hear people knocking on the front door from his room. The walls of his house were thin and ready to relay information. This caused him to never knock on other’s doors—reaching for the doorbell instead.  Knocking was a little too intimidating.  No matter who knocked, it sounded a little scary.  The doorbell on Sunny’s house always broke, and eventually no one bothered to fix it.  Knocking became a must, to Sunny’s dismay.

After some time in his room and in his head, a loud and insistent knock made Sunny jump.  He heard his mom’s footsteps, and he heard more excited knocking.  Sunny was knocked out of his headspace, disrupted before he could see his friends.  He was a little irritated, but he was way more scared.  Instead of listening in, he hid in his bed.  He pulled blankets over him and hugged a nearby pillow.  He waited.  Waited for it to pass.

He loved his friends.  He loved seeing them.  He knew that one of them was knocking and asking about him and waiting to see him.  He knew that.  But he was so scared.  He wanted them to forget about him.  He wanted no one to remember him, so that maybe he could peacefully fade away.

After a while, he felt the house shiver as his mom closed the front door.  He emerged from his pillow fortress and blanket moat, careful not to make a sound.  He had a bad feeling about this knocking.  If anything, he knew his friends (Kel especially) were consistent.

When he woke up he felt dread.  Dread that today someone else would ask for him.  They’d ask for Sunny.  Sometimes they’d even stay and chat.  His mom never invited them inside, but they would pass around some small talk in the doorway.  Sunny hated it.  He hated it and he hated the updates that his mom would give him. Over time, his mom found success in leaving sticky notes everywhere.  Underneath the door, on his door, by his food, and on the mirror. She would write small things to him. Things like “have a good day” or “Aubrey said hi today,” sometimes next to a small doodle.  She cared so much.  She tried so hard to make Sunny feel comfortable while still giving him her love.

Every reminder that his mother was his mom would crack Sunny.  That tied him down again.  The chain and ball cuffed to his ankle grew as he stumbled forward.  It pulled him down from his vibrant dream.  Seeing her pass along messages from his friends hurt.  Seeing “Love, mom” hurt.  Everything was painful.  His makeshift solitary confinement gave him escape.  Sunny hasn’t felt the sunlight hit his face in years, yet Sunny didn’t need the sun to see a world so bright.  He has never experienced something so fantastical that caters to his every dream.  So, dream he did.  He’d close his eyes and relish the imaginary life that he pretended to have.  He relished not being awake.

He wasn’t awake as his mother made a decision.

There were fingerprints on her reading glasses.  She misplaced her eyeglass cloth yesterday, so she dealt with the inconvenience.  It was probably in her purse.  The tea in the microwave had gone cold again.  She was almost alone in the house.  She pulled out a phonebook, addressbook, and notepad—all while scanning a spread out map on the kitchen counter.  Looking for a place outside of their zip code.  Anything without stairs.

- - - - - -

thank you for reading!! if you feel inclined, feedback and criticism is appreciated :3 thank you for giving my work your time ♥

[luveline]

did I ever tell you guys about the year/s I was agoraphobic and covered all my cameras with blue tac cos I was convinced people were watching me via virus in my iPad? I just realised I’ve had the same piece of blue tac over my little camera for maybe four or five years

[aventurineswife]

Hello! Apologies for not using the request box, but I wanted to ask anonymously. Is it possible for you to do Aventurine with a reader who has agoraphobia? Somewhat similar to Futaba Sakura from Persona 5. They struggle to leave their home and whenever they do, they end up feeling very light-headed and scared due to the anxiety that comes with it, and rely heavily on a trusted person to feel safe with. Hope I explained it well enough, it's so late here rn so I'm like half-asleep rn lol, tysm!

“Hold my hand and I’ll take you there, somehow, someday”

Summary: Aventurine helps you face your agoraphobia, taking small steps together to step outside your home. Though the outside world feels overwhelming, his unwavering support and gentle encouragement help you navigate the anxiety, proving that no matter the obstacles, you’re never alone when he's by your side.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Agoraphobia, Anxiety, Supportive Relationship, Comfort, Gentle Romance, Emotional Support, Soft Moments.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and agoraphobia, Light-hearted but emotional themes, Mild panic/anxiety attacks.

A/N: dw! I'm literally half asleep most of the time while writing these fics 💀

Aventurine had always been a man of high stakes and calculated risks. His world revolved around strategy, manipulation, and power. But there was something about you that made him discard all his usual games. With you, everything felt different. You were his sanctuary, a calm he could never find anywhere else.

He first met you at a party, his usual charm and sharp wit on full display, yet he found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn't anticipated. You were quiet, a little reserved, yet there was a depth to you that intrigued him. It wasn't until much later that he learned about your struggle—your agoraphobia, the anxiety that clung to you like a second skin, making the outside world seem more like a battlefield than a place for living.

You never fully revealed the extent of your fears, but Aventurine, ever the observant strategist, had seen enough to understand. When your trembling hands would grip the edge of the doorframe when you were about to step outside, when you'd look to him with uncertainty, he knew.

Tonight, as the world outside was cloaked in the soft glow of the streetlights, Aventurine stood in the doorway of your apartment, eyes flicking to you with a gentle concern.

"You're thinking of going out again, aren't you?" His voice was smooth, like velvet, though there was a hint of playfulness in it. He always knew when your thoughts drifted toward venturing outside.

You hesitated, fingers nervously playing with the hem of your sleeve. "I... I just feel like I should try. I need to do it. Maybe just for a short walk."

He stepped closer to you, his presence like a calm weight in the room. "You know you don't have to, right? But, if you do, I'll be right by your side. Always."

His words were like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of anxiety. Aventurine's soft smile reminded you that, despite the world outside being overwhelming, you weren't alone. Not when he was with you.

"I... I don't want to be a burden." you murmured, glancing away, embarrassed by the constant need for his support.

Aventurine tilted your chin gently, making you meet his gaze. His eyes glistened with warmth and understanding. "You could never be a burden to me. I’m here because I want to be. And you’re not weak for needing help. You're brave for even considering it."

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing the tightness in your chest. The weight of the world outside, so daunting and far-reaching, suddenly seemed lighter when you were with him.

"Just a walk. And if you need to turn back, we turn back. No questions asked. No shame." Aventurine reassured you, his hand gently brushing against yours.

You looked at him, your heart beating a little faster, but this time not from fear. There was a soft fluttering inside you, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through your chest.

Slowly, you nodded. "Okay. Let's try. But only if you're with me."

"Always." he promised, his smile widening as he took your hand in his, leading you to the door.

The walk outside was nothing extraordinary to most. It was just a few blocks around the neighborhood, the moon casting a soft light on the sidewalks. But to you, it was everything. Each step you took outside was a victory, and each moment of his presence beside you made the world feel just a little less intimidating.

Aventurine kept the conversation light, his voice drawing you out of your head. He teased you gently about your nervous glances at every passerby, and you laughed, the sound bright and genuine. Even as your heart raced and your thoughts threatened to spiral, he was there, grounding you with his presence, reminding you that there was no rush. No pressure.

Halfway through the walk, you began to feel the familiar light-headedness creeping in, the anxious tension rising like a storm in your chest. Your breath hitched, and your grip tightened on his hand.

"Aventurine, I—" you began, but he squeezed your hand gently, cutting you off.

"Hey, it’s okay," he said softly, stopping in his tracks. He turned you toward him, his eyes full of understanding. "You don’t have to go any further. Let’s head back, yeah? We’ve already won by being out here, together."

You blinked at him, a wave of relief washing over you. You had feared that stepping outside, just stepping out the door, would somehow break you, but with him, you realized that you didn't need to conquer the world all at once. Small steps mattered too.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah... let’s go back."

With a smile, Aventurine tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the light from the streetlamp catching the delicate curve of his smile. "See? No need to rush. We have all the time in the world."

The walk back felt different—lighter. You could feel the weight lifting off your shoulders as Aventurine led you back to your apartment, his hand firmly clasped around yours. It wasn’t just about the journey outside. It was about knowing that, with him, you didn’t have to fight your battles alone.

When you finally stepped back inside your sanctuary, the familiar walls offering you comfort, Aventurine closed the door behind you both, turning to face you with an almost proud glint in his eyes.

"Look at you," he said softly, his voice full of affection. "You did it. You made it outside, and we did it together. I'm so proud of you."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you leaned against him, the comforting presence of his warmth surrounding you. "I couldn’t have done it without you."

Aventurine chuckled, brushing his lips lightly against your forehead. "I’ll always be here. You’re never alone."

And as you stood there, in your home, with him by your side, you realized that with Aventurine, stepping into the world didn’t seem so impossible. Not when you had a partner who understood, who would walk beside you no matter how many steps it took.

[actuallyverynormalbtw]

avoidant antisocial agoraphobic anorexic addict AND autistic????

alliteration :/

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

Just speed consumed all of addison lee very much enjoyed I am waiting with my popcorn for next chapter! I did have a wonder while reading, what is Wriothesley's scope of vision? Is it like this needs to be 3 inches in front of his face? Can he see faces clearly if he's close enough? Loving the fic, keep writing!

The short answer is:

No matter how close he gets, it's still gonna be unclear. It's not quite like myopia/short-sightedness where the blurriness can change with glasses/distance. His vision is more like looking through foggy glass. If something is pressed right up to the glass, you can see it more clearly, but it will still be foggy. Additionally, the guy has always been red/green colour-blind, so that doesn't change even after his war injuries, but because his vision is worse in general, he can barely tell colours apart lol. Unless it's bright blue.

LONG ANSWER UNDER THE CUT.

HAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA HEHEHHHEHEHHE WHUAGHAHA sorry. I like to infodump about my fics.

Not kidding when say this: I have a document that have notes on every single year in the 10 years between the Celestia war and current INGITAL events.

Unfortunately this was all planned before Sigewinne release, so I didn't have her canon birthday (AND I DON'T CARE ABOUT CANON ANY MORE I'm burying my head in the sand.) but it accounts for every year that Sigewinne grew up and some other random lore bits. "What does this have to do with my question?" you ask. Well, I have the 10-years progression notes specifically to keep their life events in order and Wriothesley's and Neuvillette's healing progress consistent KJNDSKJNSANSKJHASDJNJSNDKJNASJNDSAJNKSAKJ.

SO. Detailed answer is this:

At this point in INGITAL, if you stand 1-2 meters away from him and wave, he's gonna notice if he's looking at you, paying attention, and you're both indoors, or he's wearing sunnies. He's not gonna be able to recognise anything, though, he can just tell something is moving. He can sort of read regular text on a computer screen at about 2-3 inches (on a good day) using his better eye (left, so he always sorta lean that way when he's trying to look at something), but it's a struggle and he'd rather not do it. His right is worse.

There's also his field of vision. So like, his peripherals are pretty much gone, and he has some dark patches/blind spots. He's also light-sensitive, so everything's kinda painfully bright sometimes, but his vision is also bad in the dark, so he needs a happy medium, but that can shift from day to day.

Very rough idea of what Neuvillette might look like to him on a sunny day. Veeery rough idea. I'm not blind I just researched a lot.

And then, regardless of what he can actually physically see, if his eyes hurt or feel too sensitive to keep open, it's all moot anyway. And once again, usually that depends on the day.

When Sigewinne was born, he had functionally decent vision in one eye (had a corneal transplant on his right). Legally can't get his driving licence, but y'know, he still felt confident enough to drive (Neuvillette did not let him, though.) The transplanted eye deteriorates over Sigewinne's first few months, and so did his better eye. He got another surgery for his left eye (the better one) when Sigewinne was about one, and that lasted for a bit, but by the time she's two, he's pretty much considered legally blind. By the time she's four, he does most things on his own and his other issues are managed as well, which is why they decided to have a second kid, and they had Carole when Sigewinne was 5. But Neuvillette struggled a bit with that second pregnancy. I mean, his first wasn't exactly rose and rainbows, but he his mental health nose-dived with the second one for a while. It's because he's been so focused on keeping it together while Wriothesley recovers that he hasn't fully dealt with his own trauma until his second pregnancy. Because yeah, thinking your husband died while you're carrying your first baby was traumatic. They've both got PTSD. By the time Sedene comes about though, they're all good. Sedene's pregnancy was a breeze, there was just Covid lockdowns HAHAHAHA. And then, if I go through with another pregnancy at the end of INGITAL, well... That's for me to know and for you to ponder.

[By the way, Clorinde mentioned going over to their house for Wrio's birthday 8 years ago in Chapter 9, which is when Sigewinne was 3 and he was 28. His previous birthday (his 27th) was a disaster. Had a big fight with his husband. So that's another morsel of lore from the 10-years-of-plot document.]

There's a scene planned somewhere in all this, where Neuvillette shows him some of their photos on one of the days when his vision is better. Photos of eeeeveryone their kids and their friends and all. He printed them out and edited them to raise the contrast so Wriothesley can see it more easily. Wriothesley voice: Ajax is fucking ginger? [This is lore relevant. No spoilers though.]

[iveneverexisted]

i hate so much having parents and a care team that never puts a label on my suffering, or acknowledge that even a second that i cant do what they do.

no actually i can’t even get a good sleep schedule. i can barely leave the house and my experiences of seeing people i went to school with at the pharmacy and doctors office isn’t going to make me want to go. there is no event big enough for me to be throughly mentally ill and DISABLED for them. i have an awful spending addiction, can’t express myself on antidepressants but feel too unstable and depressed without them, i don’t feel real and haven’t ever, i get intrusive thoughts and can’t stop ruminating. i cannot focus on the right things and these methods of alarms and punishments make my anxiety worse, i CANNOT leave my house!!! i’ve poorly hidden my symptoms of Everything and suddenly people are still confused im not getting better. i have never been more disappointing, lazy, uncaring, or dependent in their eyes. yet i am the furtherest thing from coddled supported and loved. i am berated. i am lonely. i still can’t leave or change. i’ve tried to die and nothing worked.

tldr nobody wants to listen to me or consider me disabled. surely struggling will go away if i force myself into a panic state 24/7. i definitely won’t burn out and have to drop all of life for over a year again.

[buckys-little-belle]

to those saying “your lack of wanting to write doesn’t mean you should abandon this blog” i understand the sentiment i really do but it’s not just me not wanting to write.

i have so many fics ready to be published because i cant stop writing, i love writing. the main problem is actually posting the fics.

if anyone pays close attention to this blog, you’ll see that i don’t post random text posts, not fic related, near as often as i used to, and i often delete them after a few minutes to hours of posting them.

i have severe anxiety as we all know, so publishing fics has always been harder for me to do, it’s nerve wracking and scary to do without feeling anxious for days on end. now i’m starting to struggle with OCD even more.

i used to just need everything even on both sides years ago, but now things have gotten to an insane point that’s new and scary and hard to really comprehend. suddenly i need to delete things or else “xyz” will happen, suddenly i cant post things with specific words or “xyz” will happen.

it doesn’t make sense, and it’s dreadful and the problem is most OCD “therapy/methods of working through compulsions” interferes with my tourettes, and now if i want to start a new therapy type i have to leave the house and get over this resurgence of severe agoraphobia.

i do write, i want to post my fics so bad, and i want to stay on this blog. but, i am one compulsion away from feeling like i have to give it all up, and it is terrifying.

this was my safe space, the one place my brain felt at peace and now i’m tearing it away from myself (albeit involuntarily) and at the moment there’s no way to stop this downward spiral immediately.

while i understand you all being sad about me abandoning ship or never posting another fic again, pleas know i am 10x sadder, and far more distraught than i could even explain.

[haunted-fae]

Basically creepypasta proxies with a Paranoid!Reader

Genderneutral, it's Hoodie/Toby/Masky (is Toby still creepypasta? I know there was drama with him in fanfics... I know Hoodie/Masky are Marble Hornets I'm using the creepypasta fanfic versions.)

Warnings: Stalking, paranoia (and the justification of it), uses you pronouns, there's gonna be mentions of killing

You've always had a feeling that someone was just behind you. That someone was lurking in the darkness, that noise downstairs was a murderer climbing up the stairs to kill you.

Every noise made your head swivel, to the point your friends didn't even tease you about it anymore.

Little do you know how valid your fears are...

Masky sees you one day during work. You were passing by the apartment he was in, apparently he'd left the door open. You noticed the red seeping slowly towards the door and you nervously called in, "Hey 203, you doing ok?" When he came to the door you were tightly clutching your phone, your finger hovering over the numbers to call 911. "Yeah I'm fine," he'd said, "Just spilled some paint, sorry to worry you." He took in the way your shoulders dipped with your relief, the way your mouth curved into a small smile, the way you took his breath by existing. So from that moment on he was 203. It had its benefits; alone time, no Toby, and of course, you. Sometimes he'd just listen through the wall to whatever music or show you have on. When you bring someone over he has his ear on the wall the entire time trying to figure out who they are to you. Don't be surprised if you have less second dates. He follows you to work, he loves the glimpses of your face he gets when you turn around. If he manages to get close to you he'll bribe Ben into breaking your security system, so he can come "fix" it. He keeps a smile to himself at how tired you are, how scared you look when it's broken, how you come knock on his door in the middle of the night cause it feels like your in danger all while you walk straight into its arms.

Hoodie remembered you from college. You weren't apart of the... film project. You were in some core classes with him, the ones they forced everyone to take. He remembered how you look, how you wrote a million notes, how you obsessively checked over every assignment before turn in. It didn't start with him liking you, it just started as curiosity. "What could my life have been, if I never met Tim?" A useless hypothetical, you were different majors, but still he was drawn to you. He followed you when he had the chance, ducking just out of your peripheral when the crawling on your back got too bad to ignore. He watched your dates and he didn't interfere, at least not until they got a third. Once one of them had the gall to try something with you in public. You, as scared of everything as you were, had ignored your suspicions because "your just being paranoid" so he had to be the savior. Once he becomes apart of your life, he begins to miss you, miss the normalcy that you give his chaotic life. He loves when you look over your shoulder, unconsciously moving towards him for safety, unknowing that he's the very thing your afraid of.

Toby wasn't one for silence, he can't be. Normally he'd never waste the time to figure out his feelings and follow you so far but, you noticed him. You thought he was a cosplayer, you complimented him, you asked what show it was from. Because of course he's a cosplayer, it's just your paranoia telling you those axes are a bit too sharp to be foam, the smell of blood a bit too real to be fake. He's fine, he's just a person. You should've listened. People you go on dates with never call back, people in your life seem to disappear, and you are getting too scared to go outside. At least not alone. Once Toby is in your life, and he is, he becomes the only person you can truly rely on. He makes sure that you never stop looking over your shoulder, that your paranoia becomes agoraphobia so that he is the only person you'll see.

[skitskatdacat63]

Guys :D I just wanted to let you know that I'm gonna be studying abroad for the next month or so, so I might not be as online as I'd like to be :( but mostly I'm :( about how I won't be able to keep up with races as well as I'd like to. As you know, I usually like to try to post for every event, but especially quali and the race, but I might perhaps be a little busy :) cannot wait to watch on a train at least once :,)

[daysofnights]

borderline agoraphobic regulus who lives with sirius and sirius’ friendly neighbor james and how they fall in love through glances and snippets and music and arguments and noises through thin walls

[the-autistic-agoraphobe]

Lately I have been feeling weak and not myself and I have noticed that this has had a negative impact on my agoraphobia. I wasn't as daring as I needed to be with my exposure therapy as my legs were shaky. So I went and got a blood test done. The doctor told me that my iron levels were low and said that I should get some iron tablets. I hope that the iron tablets help me feel more confident with agoraphobia exposure.

Video Description:

There is an iron on an ironing board that has a cord underneath it. The cord is going under the sleeve of my cardigan. End Description.

Transcript:

So the doctor said that I needed some more iron in my blood. So now I am getting some iron put into my blood. End Transcript.

[oldfacesnewdawnoffical]

Agoraphobic Barkface is so interesting idk ever since I read it it’s all I can think about. Does their agoraphobia stem from any event in their life? It probably won’t be shown in the story but as a person who has agoraphobic tendencies it’s just like melted into my mind and I need to know about them

I’d like to be able rewrite some of the Super Editions from canon, alongside a few entirely new ones (on characters such as Monarchmask, Sol, maybe Snowtuft, etc) so perhaps we’ll get a Voleface SE someday where I can go into heavier detail ;)

While it’s not shown in Ignite, Voleface’s agoraphobia does in fact stem from some events in his life!

I’ve always read Barkface as someone who is very externally calm and collected, but on the inside is wracked with anxiety and near-constant worry, trying to alleviate his own sense of fear by offering a helping hand to others… though perhaps that was just my own projection coming into play. But even still, I wanted to dig into that a little deeper when it came to constructing Purrheale Voleface!

His agoraphobia developed properly much later on in his life, after the death of their brother, Shrewclaw, though it definitely had some warnings before it’s eventual drop. He had some difficulties when it came to regulating his anxiety (especially when it came to his family; his parents died very early on in his life), and had a period of time in his life where he would steal and abuse herbs in an attempt to make himself calm. His agoraphobia is also regulated mostly to large crowds; he tends to stay in his den often, regularly avoids Gatherings, and tries not to put himself in or near crowds. Magpietail is also a huge help to him.

Prior to her death, he was also getting help from Purrheale Sagewhisker of the Fenland! They worked on exposure therapy together, alongside systematic desensitization. He’s really struggled in the aftermath of her death, but, well… the Moorswept won’t have to deal with crowds for a while.

[queerercaora]

"everyone else has as rich and as complex an inner life as you!" nah. im better at that than everyone else. my thoughts are more interesting than theirs. i simply have more going on

[aphroditestummyrolls]

I ate lunch, I didn’t take a picture, because I was in a HURRY. But I ate it. Chickie nuggie salad (it was the fastest).

[ryanjudgesthings]

Robert Pattinson, Zac Efron, Christopher Eccleston, and others deserve commendation for being open about their mental health. Pattinson refused to go overboard for Batman in spite of his body dysmorphia (or perhaps because of it — he did say he didn't want to be part of the problem). Efron recently came out and said trying to achieve the Baywatch look made him a depressed insomniac and it took him months to start feeling like himself again and that it wasn't a look worth trying to emulate. In the same interview he admitted to having agoraphobia. Eccleston has stated that in many of the series when he was praised for being attractive, he was actually very unwell with anorexic. He's also been open about being severely depressed, to the point of hospitalization.

I cannot stress enough how important this is for men and boys to see. Talking about men's mental health and body standards is a huge taboo and it's so important for people to break barriers. I really hope that the bravery of these lads continues to inspire a change in the mindset that people currently have around men's mental health and body standards.

[gorilla-grip-knussy]

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