#the paranoia and exhaustion

[daydreamerwonderkid]

3 episodes into The Edge of Sleep and I'm already relating way too fucking much to this show.

[pinkxcloudz]

"start unmasking your symptoms!" mfers when people with schizospec disorders, personality disorders, paranoia, tics and tourettes, OCD, PANDAS, and dissociative disorders unmask

[stagark]

Warmth Amidst Dust

Gender-neutral Reader & Jiyan Comfort

Minors DNI - this blog writes dark and sexual content.

Content warnings: Panic/anxiety/ptsd attacks, left vague but reader experiences extreme dissociation and derealization and struggles to breathe due to anxious thoughts. Mentions of minor character death, paranoia on reader’s part. Basically, reader has a panic attack and Jiyan holds you while you breathe. Please be aware of the tags and do not read if these topics may trigger you.

Can be interpreted as romantic or platonic! You are a soldier under General Jiyan who has pushed yourself too hard recently, causing panic attacks. General Jiyan noticed and offered a shoulder to hold while you relearn how to breathe.

Word count: 1.5k - Also read on Ao3

You never once thought you would ever thank the dust of Norfall Barrens. As a rookie soldier you had grimaced through it, determined to protect the city you loved despite the discomforts and hardship of enlisting in the Midnight Rangers.

But now, three years later, it was a welcome respite from the sharp, biting winds. The particles stuck to your sweat-slick skin, a grimy but effective layer that allowed you to fight the abominations with a shield from the bone-chilling wind streams. The icy breeze got to you over time, seeming to attack your skin at every opportunity, leaving your limbs tender and your bones brittle.

Unexpectedly, what relieved the wind chill the most was another gale, one scripted by your trusted general, Jiyan. He moved like a deadly dancer guided by a loong dragon’s spirit. It was clear your sentinel itself chose Jinzhou’s general, his unwavering sense of justice an arrowhead directing the war against the Lament’s effects.

A composed man who overflowed with warmth and care at his core, he warmed every space he ever entered both with his aero resonance and his very spirit. The medic turned leader was almost universally beloved, a man who faught alongside his soldiers, a voice of strength and reason so desperately needed in and out of the battle field. His mere presence strengthened resolve against the Lament’s corruption, igniting and directing soldiers’ will to fight for their home like the strong tendrils of wind that uplift gentle embers into roaring and ferocious wildfires. His guidance inspired you and so many others, and you worked hard to earn your place in a unit directly below him.

The call of your name by one of your companions shook you out of your thoughts. In the relative safety of your camp you were able to let your mind float following your shifts on watch. You tended to do that more often these days. Only in battle was your mind sharp; otherwise you were simply a shell of a human, no different from a golden echo on the field. Warmth graced your hands in the form of a bowl of hot soup, the scent of spices wafted into your nose, a very welcome surprise. Such commodities were rare these days, perking up even your dulled senses.

“Come on, I know you’re tired from your shift but we have a feast prepared today!” a new fellow you fought alongside with today called at you with a smile. You managed to offer one back. A feast in these parts meant warm food and extra proteins, and spices it seemed, this time. A welcome blessing in this hell. While you’re sure you would be glad, truly, your soul never stirred in celebrating any longer. Years of war had stolen your life force, only your determination and spite sustaining you. But it was easy to wear a mask of normalcy, falling into habits to alleviate your mind of a little bit of stress, letting your consciousness float and watch your body acting from above you, a spectator instead of a player.

The warmth of the bowl certainly sang to your body, blood pumping heartily from the sustenance. But your mind was as barren as the lands you camped on, a floating ghost devoid of nearly everything, that only came to life with skill and sharpness gifted to you in battle by adrenaline.

That very familiar chemical rushed through your veins, releasing your body from its cold prison and igniting your muscles to tense, ready for action. A foreign sound had resonated around you, causing the adrenaline to release. The call was loud at first, a deep bellow sounded, followed by quick, breathless exhales of mirth and an echo of the very sound by vaguely familiar voices. It occurred to you then: laughter. The noise was laughter. You shifted your gaze around the camp, finding the young soldier who handed you a bowl howling heartily with some senior officers. How long had it been since you had heard laughter for it to sound so foreign to you?

You truly didn’t know.

It wasn’t unwelcome, but it was a disruption to your routine that allowed the voices in your head to rise louder, your mind waking to make sense of the new occasion.

What was the joke, why was your comrade so happy? asked your mind. Mild annoyance traipsed through your thoughts, uncharacteristic, but an understandable ally. This was not a place for disruptions. Anything could happen here.

What if there were TDs creeping up on the camp right now? What if they had heard the ring of joy and legions of them were gathering to snuff it out, racing here in ground-shaking gallops like horsemen of the apocalypse. You had seen so many of your allies, your friends, fall to those beasts. Resounding memories of their cheers of camaraderie in the early days echo throughout your mind, cruelly juxtaposed with visuals of their brutal deaths. The monsters taunted you, holding your loved ones’ image captive and jeering at you while they poisoned your world, your beloved city, your home.

The world around you seemed to distort at the thought, the sky dropping. You were caged in by some invisible force, and noisy panic bubbled in your chest. Air began to feel denser, a newly elusive substance your lungs had to chase. The very thing you began craving seemed to mock you, seeming to grip your ribs and crush them inwards while refusing to let you draw in a breath. Your chest stuttered and attempted to heave before being yanked back by your achingly empty lungs as you began hiccuping for breath. Only when your airways started to sting and your face began to numb did you realize your situation and manage to gasp for breath.

You didn’t know how long had passed after you wheezed the sound of panic. You felt nothing until the bowl you were clutching was removed from your lap. A large hand came to rest on your shoulder, replacing its warmth. A scent so familiar that it unconsciously calmed you followed its motion: a fresh forest breeze tinged with the sharp sting of metal. The air began to flow in smoothly, enriching your body. A cooperative ally once more.

“Breathe, soldier,” the strong voice rumbled.

General Jiyan. Your general, Jiyan. The air once again blessed your bloodstream, feeding every inch of your body and once again giving you the gift of life. You had begun to breathe slowly and deeply, just as you had learned in training. In for four, hold for four, out for four. The familiar timings of the count served to calm both your body and mind.

The presence of safety, of your general’s strength near you, was a very welcomed gift. You sighed from your chest once the world had returned to clarity and life size in your vision and you once again heard the murmur of celebration around you. Unfortunately, your reaction was not unfamiliar to you. The toll of seemingly endless battle drew on your very soul, leaving your body weak and weary. And yet, after dozens of times, not even a decorated soldier under the great General Jiyan could manage to snap yourself out of the hell on Earth that was your own mind, not on your own, not in a way that left you sane.

“I’m sorry, general. I let my head get the best of me. Thank you for-“

The hand on your shoulder squeezed gently but firmly, a message to stop talking. As you looked up to gaze in the golden eyes of your general, you were met with pure gentle care. His understanding smile reached his eyes.

You caved to your pure exhaustion. Wordlessly, he let you relax into him, your head coming to rest against the front of his shoulder. You sighed once more, lungs filling to capacity and deflating equally in rhythmic undulation as your spirit came back to inhabit your body, bit by bit. Your general was so warm, so caring, so safe. Eyes closing against his form, your breathing slowed even without your measured counting. One steady hand gripped your side while the other came to rest along your shoulder blade, forearm resting comfortingly against your tired back. He rubbed gentle circles firm into your spine, grounding and soothing the ache in your muscles.

“Don’t speak. Ive seen you pick up extra shifts, push yourself hard. It is the most worthy of causes, no one here faults you, least of all me. But your work is done today, soldier. Rest.”

There was no hint of a waver in his voice, no false sympathy or concern. This was General Jiyan. This was safe. You nodded into his chest, accepting the help you so desperately needed. Jiyan hummed his approval as he continued to soothe your back. You could feel him brush away the dusr, replacing its tentative shield with his own unrelenting one. Your very bones seemed to breathe again, and your thoughts wandered not to the chaos and havoc of the war, but to the warmth and comfort of your general’s presence as you were surrounded by a joyful camp, grounding you instead of letting you dissociate. This was safe, and so, you breathed.

[kariiimm]

You took the best of my heart and left the rest in pieces

[merrysithmas]

at first i was like mmmmmmm idk about this new scrappy skinny scrawny Jim Kirk but as I think about it as resident JTK expert (Phd) I am coming around to the accuracy of post-Tarsus massacre Commander Kirk desperate to embrace the fleeting impermance of happiness by embodying compassion (towards Uhura and La'an) and appreciation for transient silly pleasures (like cookies or hotdogs) AS WELL AS being actively hypervigilant towards his own & other's safety (La'an, The Enterprise vs the Romulans, Uhura) as a trauma response towards the horrors of genocide he experienced first hand.

Also his devil-may-care mien & deep respect towards command in TOS is replaced by a somewhat less likeable ambition to succeed in SNW... another off-shoot to this trauma. We see he has a desire to climb towards rank (for control & protection) yet does not fully embody the ability to handle it with the grace needed to become the legend just yet.

also I've ended up liking the inversion of TOS physical physique that SNW gives us with a more muscular/appearance-oriented (anxious) Spock & a small scrappy (traumatized) Jim ... it appears to be well thought out & a stepping stone to their eventual comfortable self-actualizations in TOS.

[fitzselfships]

It's almost midnight but idc. After the week I've had all I want to do is curl up on them and fall asleep lol

Proshippers/adjacent dni. 100000 shark attack 🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈 also Zooble self ship doubles dni

[time-is-restored]

btw not to make everything about My Fucking Guy but i honestly think one of the things that seperates q!phil out from the other islanders is the approach he takes to dealing with the lack of agency + control all the islanders have over whatever the fuck the federation's doing.

it shows up most prominently whenever tubbo is excitedly telling him about the 'progress' he's made with cucurucho or various investigations (ie: trapping him into a corner with the 'do you have free will' questions), and phil always shoots it down w an immediate 'that doesn't mean anything. curucuho will say anything to mess with you. you can't take anything he says as true.'

and it's not that phil is... a paticularly pessimistic character? he's just EXTREMELY practical. like, he's yet to give up on anyone EVER finding ANY answers (he was the one who initially gave the federation that one week ultimatum w the cage for a cage stream), he just doesn't trust the idea that curucuho is ever going to voluntarily give them. they're uncontrollable + senseless - you might as well argue with the weather.

and like, if that's how he sees the one (1) and only point of contact the islanders HAD with the federation for months, it explains a lot abt his characters lifestyle! ofc he sits on the wall all day, talking to his kids, and keeping his head down. he believes that the federation wants nothing more than to drag the islanders into sick games + tasks just so they can fuck with their head (ie: curucuho revealing he was the one cellbit gathered all that information for). and while he can't totally PREVENT any of that from ever impacting him, he can make sure his kids are well fed, well protected, and as happy + comfortable as he can manage. this is objectively not a perfect situation, there is a guaranteed amount of suffering + fear that he can't mitigate, but he can at least account for it.

like, he REFUSES to engage. whenever curucho shows up, he treats them with total ambivalence. he's not going to get riled up by anything they do, he's not going to get super attached to the guy, he's just gonna laugh it off and irish goodbye it when things drag on. the ONLY time he's strayed from that general guiding principle has been since he's lost his eggs, and can no longer afford to let the federation's fuckery go: those are his fucking kids.

hence the completely unprecedented levels of outward rage and sadness and terror he shows throughout the birdcage streams - almost all directed directly to cucurucho. it's all a completely fair + proportional response to the horror the islanders are being subjected to, but it feels so different bc until now, q!phil has been so dedicated to not reacting, and not giving the federation any sign that they're actually getting to him.

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Y'all I get being frustrated when your art/content is only getting likes instead of reblogs. As an artist this happens to me all the time and I get it, it sucks, and it can be tiring. But you have gotta stop saying shit like "if you like this post but don't reblog you're evil/blocked/etc". Likes are not useless; they build community, they let people who may not know what fandom your art belongs to but still like your art to let you know they like it, likes are little passing compliments, and likes are not your enemy. But even further, saying shit like that is only going to make people not want to reblog more!! Guilt tripping never works, but especially when there's no actual social repercussion to just ignoring someone's post entirely rather than leaving a like. Asking people to reblog isn't a bad thing, but please stop this harmful guilting behaviour

[mad--sad--bad]

It's in my mind, it's under my skin.

[endlessmidnights]

My anxiety has made me paranoid, I can’t here laughter, whispering, plain talking, I can’t see texting, I can’t do anything without thinking I’m being made fun of or talked about in some way

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Moonlight

Whumpril Day 29 (Reluctant Caretaker)

Whumpril Prompts List

part 1

TW: exhaustion, fainting, paranoia, hunted, telepathy, magic whump

Summary: It's been many days since Jin fled the battle field. She attempts to pass through a grove in Moonshadow elf territory and stumbles across something inexplicable.

That's a wrap for Whumpril! I hope you enjoyed my contributions! :D

The moonshadow elf had been following Jin for some time now.

She wasn’t certain how she knew this. It was a full moon, she couldn’t see the elf unless they’d wanted her to. She hadn't heard them, either.

But she knew they were there. She didn’t know how. But she knew.

If Jin had to guess, the elf had started following her when she’d entered the small thicket, after the sun had set below the horizon. She might have trespassed into their territory, but she didn't care. She felt too exposed on the open plains.

Progress was slow, with the trees packed densely together. But the branches almost seemed to part before Jin, allowing themselves to be bent with unnatural flexibility so she could pass. She didn’t try to think about how the trees could be luring her into a trap.

If the elf was out to get her, they would have killed her by now.

But instead, they only watched and followed, nearly invisible from the power of the full moon. It would have been fitting if they did kill her. A moonshadow elf had taken her husband from her. Had taken her king under her watch.

That was in the past. Jin was a deserter now.

Her head snapped to the left, and she barely made out a shape in the darkness as it flitted past, unhindered by the wall of branches. No sound was made. How had she known to look?

Jin almost reached for her ax but decided against it. She had been traveling for days on foot, running on little sleep and the small amount of food she could forage. She was in no fit state for battle, no matter who her opponent would be.

Finally, through the branches, she spied open ground. A clearing? The other side of the forest? The spot where the trap had been laid out for her?

She pressed on. Anywhere was better than the pressing shadows of the trees.

The elf was waiting for her when she emerged from the thicket, spear in hand as they regarded her. Even in their nearly invisible moonshadow form, they appeared masculine, a guarded expression on his face. Behind him was a shrine constructed of white stone gleaming under the moonlight. Two symbols were carved above the gaping doorway. The first was the symbol of the moon arcanum. And the second….

Jin’s mouth went dry. Was that the… dark magic arcanum?!

“Who are you?” The elf asked softly.

Her fingers twitched, eager to hold her ax. Why was the symbol for dark magic on a shrine in Xadia? “I… I’m Jin.”

“Why have you come here?”

Was the ground moving? Why was the ground moving? “I… not… I don’t know.” Overcome by weakness, Jin fell to her knees. “What… what’s happening?”

The elf frowned and turned to face the shrine. “Neoma!”

Jin’s skin prickled as a faint reply echoed inside her head, the words incomprehensible. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control her breathing as she struggled to stay conscious.

The elf sighed heavily. “Fine.”

A hand touched her shoulder. “Stop fighting,” he said softly. “You’re safe here.”

“N-no… I can’t… she’ll do horrible things…”

“Neoma won’t let her. It’ll be alright.”

Jin slowly nodded as she slumped. The ground was cool under her cheek. A small part of her, even as she slipped into the darkness, tried to protest. This isn’t right. Too tired too quickly. What if…

That, too, quickly faded away into oblivion.

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @whumpril

[themindofmine]

When you can’t accept a compliment because your paranoia says they are just making fun of you

[kariiimm]

i said it's okay, i never said it doesn't hurt

[hussyknee]

"We don't hate Jews and fight them because they are Jews. Jews are people of a religion, and we are people of a religion. We love all people of different religions. My brother even if he is my brother and he is a Muslim—if he steals my house and kicks me out, I will resist him."

— Sheikh Ahmed Ismail Hassan Yassin, founder of Hamas.

[super-duper-stupor]

It's honestly sad to see the phrase "Delulu is the solulu" being thrown around as a cute little quirky phrase, when in reality delusions are life ruining and destroy your mental health.

Three things I've done/are doing because of my delusions:

1. I rarely if ever eat at a restaurant or other peoples cooking because I'm afraid of being poisoned. I literally have a cabinet of canned food I keep just to keep the paranoia away.

2. I've destroyed two phones and a TV (all of them my own property) in the past because I thought people were watching me through them.

3. I don't trust any mirrors in bathrooms (unless it's in my own house) because I believe there are people watching me from behind them.

[mothbeasts]

hi. everyone think about post-zoraxis fabbylaris with me okay? women when they have had the life nearly crushed out of them by their former employer, but now they have each other to help pick up all the pieces? women when they accommodate for each other, have each other's backs? when they have seen each other at their lowest moments and stay, despite everything? women when they're so deeply in love with each other? do you see my vision?