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a-literal-toaster-wtf · 11 months

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Rimmer couldn’t sleep.

It was nothing new to him, really. He’d carried it over from his childhood - nights spent tossing and turning due to hunger, starved as a punishment for getting astronavigation questions wrong at dinner. Perhaps his body had learned from these experiences; “ah yes, bedtime. That’s when you lie in bed, thinking about everything you’ve ever done wrong and will continue to do wrong. Sleep? What’s that?”

Rimmer sighed, rolling into a more comfortable position. Thinking about his childhood in the wee hours of the night was never a good idea, though unfortunately inevitable. It always sent him down a dark path - if only he’d been better. Maybe, just maybe, if he’d tried - and I mean, really tried - he’d have gotten somewhere, instead of being a dead hologram three million years into deep space with about zero chance of ever getting home.

But, the thing is - he did try. Young Rimmer had poured over his study books until his eyes stung, wrote out formulas and excerpts until his fingers bled. But it was never enough. Not for his teachers, not for his peers.

Not for his parents.

Rimmer squeezed his eyes shut tight. He desperately tried to will the thoughts away, make them disappear to the dark crevices of his mind and never return. But it was never that easy. No - nothing could ever go right for ol’ A. J. Rimmer.

Maybe I just need to walk this off. With an exasperated (and shaky - when had his breathing become shaky?) sigh, he pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. However the all-to quick shift from horizontal to vertical triggered a sudden dizzy spell, causing him to grip the side of the bed with such force his knuckles went white.

Rimmer could feel his breath quickening. Bringing his hands into eye level, he saw just what he didn’t want to see - he was trembling. Oh god, not now. Not here. What if Lister wakes up? God, I’d never hear the end of it. He’d mock me forever.

He quickly realised he could no longer regulate his breathing. Still sitting on the edge of the bed he doubled over, holding his head in his hands. His fingers gripped hopelessly at his hair in a pathetic attempt at grounding himself. No matter how much he repeated that damned “you’re not in danger, everything is okay” mantra he’d taught himself, he couldn’t calm down. Nothing felt real anymore. The room was closing in on him, and yet felt all too big, and all the while spinning. He felt he might faint, and yet was all too alert and aware of the situation.

“Rimmer?”

No. Smeg, no. God, please don’t let this be smegging happening.

“Go back to sleep, Lister.” was what he tried to say, but the words got caught in his throat - and instead, he let out a sort of strangled gasp. This only made Lister more worried.

“Rimmer man, what’s wrong?” Lister asked, voice thick with worry. With a bit of effort (he had only woken up less than thirty seconds ago, in all fairness), Lister swung himself off his own bunk and carefully sat down next to Rimmer, trying not to startle him.

God, Rimmer tried to stay strong. He tried to put on a brave face, tell Lister to get back in his own bed and “I’ll be fine, it’ll pass in a few minutes.” But he knew all too well the minutes ticked by like hours when he was like this, and Lister’s tone was so soft, so caring - like warm rays of sunshine to the hailstorm in his mind. It was enough to make him cave.

“I can’t- I can’t breathe.” he managed to gasp out, the words coming out strangled and unintelligible. But Lister understood. Of course he understood, he always understood. His breath hitched as Lister placed a hand on his back. It was all too much.

“Hey, hey, It’s alright. I’m here, okay? I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Lister cooed, rubbing circles on Rimmer’s back. “D’ya think you can look at me?”

Rimmer shook his head furiously. He couldn’t bare seeing Lister’s face right now. The way his eyes softened with that look he gave him in these situations. Just thinking about it was enough to make Rimmer’s lip quiver.

“Hey, that’s okay. Just focus on ye breathin’, yeah? Try and slow down. You’re okay, Arn.” Lister changed from rubbing Rimmer’s back to squeezing his shoulder gently, ever so slightly pulling his trembling body closer to his own.

Rimmer didn’t understand. Why did Lister care so much? It would’ve been easier if he’d just rolled over in bed and tried to ignore his panicked hyperventilating. Or, better yet, told him to smeg off and have his panic attack somewhere else, because “some of us are tryin’ to get some sleep here.” But that wasn’t Lister. Lister was caring, empathetic. He always tried to help however he could - even when the person needing help was a stuck-up, cowardly smeghead such as Rimmer. It didn’t make sense.

As per Lister’s instructions, he sucked in a long breath through his teeth. It was a struggle, when your own lungs were staging a mutiny against you - but Lister’s encouragement seemed to make them let off a bit. One painful, long breath turned into two, and three, and four. With every new breath the tightness in his chest and throat eased a little, his trembling subsided, and the room seemed to adjust itself back to how it’s supposed to be: still.

In no time he was back to… well, not normal, but a much less panicked state. He still felt like complete and utter shit, but at least he didn’t feel like he was dying (despite already being dead, har har) anymore. Lister still had his arm wrapped around him, keeping him grounded like a lifeline. Rimmer finally felt safe enough to remove his hands from his face, slowly pulling himself upright.

Lister took one look at his haggard features - even in the dark, he could make out the dark eyebags and furrowed brow that seemed permanently tattooed on in recent times - and felt his heart ache for the man. “Are you alright now?”

“Yeah- Yes, I’m alright now. Thank you.” Rimmer managed to croak out, clearing his throat. He shook his head. “God, how embarrassing. You shouldn’t have had to witness that.”

Lister sighed. “Rimmer, how many times have I told ya? I’m not just ‘putting up with you’ or anything. I care about ya, man. I wanna make sure you’re okay.” When this elicited no response out of Rimmer - save for making him decide the floor was so interesting it deserved his full attention - Lister changed the point of conversation.

“So, what brought it on? Did something trigger it, or was it just.. a surprise?” Oh, nothing really. I was just thinking about how much of a terrible smeg-up I am. It’s part of my nightly routine, don’t you know. Of course Rimmer couldn’t tell him the truth.

“It was completely random. I was just trying to sleep! Honestly, I don’t know what came over me.”

Lister clicked his tongue. “Well, Kryten did diagnose ya with a panic disorder. He said these attacks can just happen at random. It’s not like it’s something you have very much control over.” Rimmer sighed.

“Oh, I know all that. It’s just… what’s the right way to put it? Annoying? Childish? It’s too early in the morning for this.”

“Then let’s try to get some shut-eye, yeah?” When Lister made a move to get up, Rimmer felt his heart jump into his mouth - a kind of primal fear gripping at his chest, not unlike how he felt a mere five minutes ago. Oh, no. I’m not letting a round two happen. “Wait!” He reached out to grab Lister’s arm.

Lister quickly returned to sitting beside him, worry etched into his features. “Please. I..” Rimmer glanced away, the words dying on his tongue. He took a breath to steady himself before continuing.

“Do you think.. you could stay here for a bit? I just.. Don’t think I’ll be getting to sleep anytime soon. I’d prefer you to stay with me.” He avoided eye contact at all cost. God, how embarrassing. Like a child who needs his teddy-bear.

Lister’s gaze softened, and returned his arm to it’s post on Rimmer’s shoulder. “Of course, man. Whatever you need. I’ll be right here beside ya.” Despite how crummy he was feeling, Rimmer felt a smile tug at his lips.

And as he sat in that bunkroom, warm in Lister’s embrace, all his troubles seemed to melt away. It didn’t matter that he was dead, or a hologram, or three million years away from home.

No, actually. He wasn’t three million years away from home. The definition of ‘home’ had changed drastically for him over the years. Now, ‘home’ was Red Dwarf - in the dingy, falling-apart bunkroom that he and Lister shared.

God, that’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever thought.

Rimmer smiled. A genuine, albeit tired, smile. He allowed his eyes to slip closed. Just this once he’d indulge himself in the pleasure of falling asleep on Lister’s shoulder. Sure, he said that the last three times this happened - but really, who’s counting?

In no time, Rimmer was fast asleep. It was the best sleep he’d had in weeks…

…save for the neck pain he experienced the next day due to the unfortunate position.

#red dwarf #red dwarf fanfic #arnold rimmer #dave lister #rimster #cw panic attacks #cw brief mentions of child abuse #there’s not really a set time that this takes place but it’s some time after legion #because rimmer is hard-light in this #mainly for convenience #it is nearly one in the morning so apologies if this is ooc or anything #eat up my friends

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hallothere · 8 months

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41 with... Lothrandir maybe? 👀

41. Panic attacks (and tw for associated content)

Alone was easier, most of the time, as opposed to being around other people. This is it, this is the thing that kills you. It's here, and it's coming and there's no stopping it now. Other people often had tells that were hard to stomach. A raised eyebrow. Alternatively, a frown. Techeron's face would pinch and his brows would crease up while he fought back the urge to use the 'And what's making you think that?' he asked when schooling. It's over. Feel that? That's death. That's already here and it's not stopping for you.

When he was alone, he could lie down, press the heels of his hands into his eyes and counting his breathing. Sometimes for an hour, sometimes less. He would have a quiet place to cry or to be sick. Being sick... that was one of the worst.

You're already dead. You just don't know it. But you'll feel it. You're feeling it all the way to the end.

The worst one in memory was with an audience. Here's the rest of your life. You're the last one. What's it going to be like, however long you have left, to be without them forever? He'd been bound, standing, feeling his heart hammering into the wooden post while the Wizard cocked his head. Amused. You know what you saw before you left. Dead. That was the sound of them dying. And he's told you the ways it happened, some of them. Do you even want to think about it? Can you afford not to?

He'd blacked out that time. He'd wept, never more thankful that the fear always dissipated on waking.

But he didn't always have the luxury of sleep. It's not really over. It's a trick, just one more in the downward spiral. You're on borrowed time. At least now you won't be alone when it hits. Be on your guard, and maybe you'll see it coming, however much good that will-

"Dagoras."

Lothrandir stood just outside the circle of the fire. There were a few Ithilien Rangers with mugs of ale, Rohirrim with mead, and the appreciative exchange happening between them. Dagoras turned and found his face. He didn't frown.

"Lothrandir. Need anything?" he asked as if he couldn't guess.

"If I could tear your from the revelry for a moment-" he paused to look at the assembled company and grinned, "-We won't be long."

Dagoras sighed heavily, for the benefit of the assembly. Lothrandir saw the mug go down to the log seat unfinished, saw Dagoras' face steel a second before sliding back into unconcerned acceptance.

"Keep my seat warm, will you? I'm getting too old for cold nights." It meant nothing. Everything. Past the line of tents and behind the heavy trunk of a culumalda, Lothrandir pushed his face into his hands.

"It... it is over? The War? The generals, at least, please tell me something is ended--"

Dagoras' face seemed to droop in recognition. Not in resignation, or reluctance. Compassion. Pity.

"The worst of it, yes." He spoke softly even for their relative isolation. "If the evidence in the air isn't enough, the evidence in your heart either-" here Dagoras set a hand on his shoulder and Lothrandir held onto it right back, "-then we can trust Mithrandir. Frodo cast the Ring into the fires of Doom, and that much has ended things. You saw him too, did you not? He wasn't some trick of the light. Mithrandir, too, seems glad, and we all know there's precious little that causes that these days."

Lothrandir managed a laugh. His eyes stung, and his head hung there a moment longer while the words sank in.

"Tell me again, then." Dagoras spoke up after a moment. "Like you did in Pelargir. Name the fear, that I might know it and dispel it."

Lothrandir took a deep breath. "That... that we didn't really win. That I have.." He swallowed hard. Dagoras didn't interrupt. "...That I have you all back, and I'm going to lose you. That orcs are going to sweep down from that hill over there and cut us down to a man."

Dagoras paused to look at the hill. "It's a worthy concern, don't mistake me." He pulled Lothrandir to his side, facing the hill, but did not insist Lothrandir look. "It's wise to be vigilant, but our Ithilien cousins scouted the hill. They did find trolls- turned to stone- and a few orcs trying to scavenge their caches. Our friend took care of those. Every hiding place of the enemy on that hill has been scattered. Better yet, the Eagles have taken great delight in picking off stragglers. I think I overheard Gwaihir compare them to fleas."

Lothrandir laughed again, deeper, and Dagoras ran a hand down the back of his head to his shoulders, again and again. Lothrandir felt something like a skittish horse, but didn't move to complain.

"Thank you" he said.

"Come find me any time. Any time at all, Lothrandir." Dagoras continued to tend to him like a frightened foal without complaint. "Or, if I'm not there, try one of the others." Lothrandir stiffened, and he felt it. "At least sit with one of them. For a minute- I'm not asking you bare your heart." More quietly, he continued, "Radanir is much the same. You may bristle, but he will try to help in his own way."

Lothrandir remained still for the measure of a few more breaths. Then, he straightened. He clasped Dagoras' hand tightly.

"Thank you." He repeated. We're alright. We're going to be alright.

#writing tag #fic tag #jjkhjHjkhkjHUHSDHjdhkhka #lothrandir #dagoras #again lol #it's old man day i suppose #based loosely on the time my brain talked itself into thinking i'd contracted brain-eating-amoeba #cw panic attacks

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kreideprinzessin · 2 years

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Agoraphobic

Written for: @/xiaoslxt and @/adalynn-is-lost ‘s Fear event

Pairing: Albedo x gn! reader

Content: established relationship; canonverse; fear of crowds; reader suffers a panic attack (described in detail); descriptions of drowning

Word count: 1.4k

Note: Yeah... Reuploading this again. Let's just say there were some technical difficulties earlier but now it's all good :)

People are happily chatting, their voices blending together to a constant indecipherable muttering. There's music playing in the background, the voices almost sounding like they’re singing along, but it mixes into a haunting melody rather than the calm tune the musicians seem to have intended. The air is filled with the smells of food, flowers, and perfume so sweet and strong, it fills up your head and makes you dizzy.

And in the middle of the crowd there's you, both of your hands tightly wrapped around Albedo’s arm so you won’t lose him in the crowd whenever someone bumps into you from behind. You don't really want to be here (and neither does your boyfriend), but it's some sort of introduction ceremony for the latest recruits of the knights, and Jean insisted that you both should show up, even if only for a little bit. You had reluctantly agreed, but once you arrived, you realized that this ceremony has a lot more participants than either of you anticipated. You’re not particularly fond of crowds, so you’re happy your boyfriend opted to just find a quiet corner to stay in until it’s socially acceptable to leave (Although even here there’s still too many people for your liking.)

“Can we go home soon?" You mutter, leaning your head on Albedo's shoulder who almost immediately reaches out to pat your head. You feel almost like a kid for whining like that, but luckily, you boyfriend is as understanding as ever.

"Don’t worry, I’m not planning on staying for long either. I just think master Jean wanted me to be here until all the official introductions are over. It shouldn't be too long. I hope,” he reassures you, kissing your forehead and letting his lips linger there for a moment. You close your eyes, enjoying every moment of closeness you can get with your boyfriend.

Unfortunately, you’re ripped out of your little moment of peace when you see Amber make her way through the crowd, eyes locked on Albedo. “Jean's been looking for you," she calls to him as soon as she's within earshot, motioning for Allendo to follow her. “There are some new recruits for the investigation team and Jean wants them to meet their captain,” Amber continues to explain as she gets a bit closer. She gives the two of you an apologetic smile. “I know you’d rather stay here with y/n, but it’s important.”

“No, no, I get that.” Albedo gently removes his arm from your grasp with a sigh, kissing your cheek. “Wait for me here, alright? I’ll be back in a bit and then I promise we're going home.” You nod, squeezing his hand one last time before you watch your boyfriend disappear in the crowd, looking just as reluctant to leave you there as you were to let go of him.

Part of you wants to follow him, but you're not a captain, so your presence would likely just be confusing to people. So, you wait, watching the crowd for a bit. A lot of people have started to dance by now, the scene before you slowly turning into a flurry of colorful dresses, wildly swaying around.

You're not quite sure what causes your mood to shift - Maybe it's the realization you've been pushed quite far from where you were supposed to wait for Albedo by now by people bumping into you and shoving you around, or maybe it's just the dancing couple swirling into you with a force that almost makes you lose your balance within - But it’s as if something switches inside of you, turning the mild uncomfortable feeling from earlier into a tightness in your chest that quickly expands. You're suddenly hyper aware of how bad the air is in here, how it makes your lungs feel tight - Your breathing quickens, but even then it's not enough air in your lungs.

A window. Maybe if you just open a window and breathe in the fresh night air you won't feel like you're suffocating anymore…

It hits you that you don't even know how to make your way through the crowd It's like there is no opening, like you're just standing in front of a wall of arms and legs and faces. You try to push your way through, but it only results in more bumping, angry voices directed at you, followed by shoves that result in more bumps. You look again for a space to pass through but all you see are flashy dresses and unfamiliar faces staring at you in ways you can't quite comprehend, too distorted to make out any clear emotion from their expressions.

You've forgotten where you were going - Really, where were you going? - and without a clear destination, your feet come to a full stop. Suddenly you're stuck amidst the sea of people swaying like waves, pulling you under, making you feel like you're about to drown. You want to get out, but it's like you're tied down, you can't move awqy, like your feet are tied to a stone gradually pulling you into the deep sea.

A firm tug on your arm finally causes you to get moving again. You don't fight it - Don't have the energy left to do so -, just allow yourself to be pulled along on stumbling, clumsy feet.

Finally you reach the end of the crowd, almost falling over without the bodies surrounding you on all sides anymore. A pair of arms wraps around you, pulls you closer. While you try to breath again, a gentle voice speaks to you, almost drowned out by the ringing in your ears.

"It's okay, y/n. I'm here. You're okay." The voice finally makes it through to you, breaking you out of your panic. As you regain your awareness, you recognize the familiar scent of Albedo, feel his comforting warmth around you. It dawns on you that it's his voice, trying to bring you back to reality.

You look up at him and are met with your boyfriend's relieved smile as he hugs you a little tighter. "It's alright. I'm here with you now," he Whispers, gently stroking your back. Only now you realize how tightly you were clinging to him to him, now carefully loosening your grip. Your legs are shaky, but Albedo supports you as he Leads you away from the crowd of people.

You realize that he brought you outside when the cold night air hits your cheeks, only now realizing that they're wet from tears. It's much quieter here, calmer. Easier to breathe.

Albedo sits you down on a bench pulling you close once again. You let your head sink against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. There's still the faint music playing from inside, but now it's nothing more than a faint melody.

You focus on the way the air enters and exits your lungs while your boyfriend patiently waits for you to feel calmer again.

"Thanks for getting me out of there," you finally mumble, reaching for his hand to give it a light squeeze.

Albedo kisses the top of your head. "I shouldn't have left you alone there to begin with, knightly duties aside… I'm just glad I found you in the crowd before it got even worse." He sighs, tightly hugging you.

You shake your head slowly. "It wasn't your fault… You couldn't have known the crowd would make me panic like that," you assure him. "Truth be told, I didn't even think myself that it would turn out this bad."

You feel your boyfriend run his hands through your hair. "Next time I'll make sure to keep you close to me… Or we just won't go at all. I don't like these social events either." You slowly nod, tightening your grip around his hand a little as a slight shiver runs down your spine. As much as you enjoy being outside, it's getting a little too cold for your liking.

Albedo picks up on it almost immediately, mustering you with a concerned glance. "You're getting cold, aren't you? If you can walk again, we should probably head home."

You try to get up, your legs feeling more steady now. Still, you refuse to let go of your boyfriend, who gladly continues to hold your hand. He kisses your cheek, softly smiling at you as he takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulder. "Come on now. Let's get you home, yeah?"

#albedo x reader #albedo #albedo x gn reader #genshin impact albedo #genshin Albedo #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw panic attacks #cw drowning #july 2022

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heartxsighs · 4 months

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✦ ・( aslihan malbora. cis woman. she / her. ) ⸺ 🦬 greetings, buffalos ! walking around campus, sporting HER LIBRARY BOOK TUCKED UNDER HER ARM we’ve spotted ZEYNEP SAHIN, a thirty years old who contributes to our thriving community as a LIBRARY ARCHIVIST. according to our intel, she’s been around the sanctuary for TEN YEARS and what we know about her, aside from the fact that she DOESN’T agree with the decision to close the gates, is that only a handful of people know about her ongoing autoimmune disease, something that has afflicted her for several years and does not seem to be letting up no matter how desperately she hopes it does; she can most often be seen with her nose in a book and while zeynep doesn't make it obvious, she enjoys writing anything from poetry to short stories just to keep her mind occupied when she's unable to sleep or when she isn't working; she struggles to verbalize what she's thinking or feeling at times, and this is where words on paper come further into play for her, so she keeps a little notepad in her pocket in case she's feeling anxiety and doesn't think she can verbally communicate effectively. doesn’t that make her fantastic ? we think it does, and that’s why we appreciate her so much, grateful for what she gives to our community.

꒰ basics ꒱ ✦ full name. zeynep aylin sahin ✦ nicknames. zey, z ✦ age. thirty ✦ d.o.b. february 29th (pisces) - they celebrate on either feb 28th or march 1st typically ✦ gender. cis woman ✦ pronouns. she/her ✦ orientations. demisexual heteroromantic ✦ marital status. single ✦ occupation. library archivist ✦ languages spoken. english, turkish, some arabic

꒰ physical ꒱ ✦ hair color. brown ✦ eye color. brown ✦ height. 5 ft 6 in ✦ piercings. one in each ear ✦ tattoos. none ✦ distinguishing marks. a couple of birthmarks on her arms ✦ fashion style. when she's at home or alone, it's sweatpants and a raggedy t-shirt at all times. when she is out and about in the sanctuary, she likes to make herself presentable, to put forward the illusion that everything is fine, even when it isn't. her outfits vary in styles, from skirts that make her look Extra Librarian-ish, to dresses, overalls, and black jeans with a nice top. two things you can always expect from zeynep: 1) her Outside:tm: clothes will always be clean, neat and nicely put together, and 2) she will always accessorize with a necklace or bracelet or a series of rings. ✦ face claim. aslihan malbora

꒰ psychological ꒱ ✦ positive traits. gentle, sentimental, creative, kind, engaging, thorough, organized, observant ✦ negative traits. sensitive, quiet, guarded, awkward, anxious, petty, self-conscious, gets very in her own head ✦ mbti type. infj - the advocate ✦ temperament. melancholic ✦ education level. she is relatively smart, and given that she was homeschooled, zeynep finished her high school education a year early, practically devouring the courses and information she was learning. she was set to begin college at eighteen, but unfortunately never got the chance to, as the outbreak happened and squashed her plans. ✦ hobbies / skills. it may not be a very useful skill now, but it was a hobby back then: dancing. she was placed in ballet classes from a young age and advanced through with the rest of her peers, learning various moves and eventually working her way up to going en pointe. for all her distaste for being in the spotlight, something about the recitals and performances seemed to quash that fear, although she would experience a load of anxiety beforehand. other than that, if you want to know something specific, zeynep is the girl you go to. she has an interest in various topics and studying them, so if you have a question you want answered, and she doesn't know it, she'll gladly do research for you, just so she can have the chance to learn, as well. for other hobbies, she enjoys 'old lady' crafts, such as crocheting, knitting, and the like. she is also a very good writer, though she'd be embarrassed for anyone to read her works or to be given praise for them. ✦ mental ailments. anxiety, panic attacks, occasionally struggles to get her words out and thus finds herself frustrated and goes non-verbal ✦ physical ailments. multiple sclerosis, which is a chronic disease of the central nervous system. essentially, her body attacks itself, leading to various symptoms. some days are much worse than others for zeynep, and she latches onto the good days like a child would their mother. her bad days... well, they're the ones where she stays inside and struggles to get to work, depending on how utterly exhausted she's feeling. before coming to the sanctuary, stress caused horrific flare-ups for her, and she was sick for a long time after she and her father arrived. zeynep doesn't let anyone know about her ailment, because she doesn't want to be a burden on others, mentally or physically. it's easier to pretend like things are alright, though i'm sure some people have noticed in the collective ten years she's spent here that she's not altogether well.

꒰ familial ꒱ ✦ mother. ceren sahin (deceased) ✦ father. bayram sahin ✦ siblings. ahmet sahin, twin brother ✦ children. none ✦ significant other. none ꒰ history ꒱ (i'll make this nice and filled out later) cw: illness (multiple sclerosis), familial death

✦ yada yada, born to older parents who had her and her brother as 'oopsie' babies; the two were homeschooled because their parents wanted to keep them close; both were put in classes for things they enjoyed - zeynep in dance, ahmet in martial arts, though his parents worried about him getting hurt; when she wasn't dancing, her head was in a book and she read at least 2 every given week; she started dealing with health issues at the age of 16 and it would take a year for her to get a diagnosis; of course, it was only a year after that that the outbreak occurred and life went further to shit; her mom passed due to other circumstances, but zeynep, ahmet and their father remained; they were her rocks when she struggled, when her medication ran out and flares couldn't be tamed; they would arrive at the sanctuary two years after the outbreak, calling the place home; it would take her one year to get healthy enough to begin to work, and she immediately locked eyes on the library, where she was trained to be an archivist; some days, she thinks she won't survive, not because of the outbreak, but because of her own body raging against her ꒰ headcanons꒱

✦ she gets very sentimental about things that are important to her. she'll keep them in a special place, organized to perfection, and handle them with extreme gentility. before the outbreak, she kept all of her old pointe shoes and cried over the fact that she couldn't take them with her (although she understood it wasn't rational to keep them.) she also cried when her mom's necklace was lost after she, her father, her brother, and the group they were with had to make a quick run for better shelter ✦ she takes her time with things, prefers to be slow moving and not in wild rushes that stress her out, since her mind tends to do that anyway; thus, she ends up having a greater appreciation for the small things - the way the moon looks shining through her window, the soft fluff of a kitten's fur, the twinkle in her father's eye when he smiles. small details mean the world to her ✦ zeynep tends to be pretty socially awkward. some days, it's like she's fighting with a demon to get the right words out when they just don't want to come. quietness is her comfort zone, because she can too easily get over stimulated by voices and loud chatter. that said, she doesn't necessarily have a large preference towards being completely alone, but being shy makes it hard for her to be in large groups of people or entertain conversation from more than one or two at a time. she'd much rather be by the wall, watching what's going on or reading a book than to be stuck in the middle of it all, or the center of attention. too many eyes on her makes her wary, as if they can all see right through her. ✦ while she uses her little notepad to communicate some days when her mouth just doesn't want to work or she's too anxious to also deal with stumbling over her words, zeynep is also very big on physical communication - little hand touches, bumping someone with her shoulder, giving them a hug. obviously she's not going to just walk up to someone random, who she hasn't gotten to know very well, and hug them. but if the two are friends and she wants to show that she's there for them, she'll use one of these gestures, or show up at their door to spend time with them when she's not in her own little world ✦ she has several notebooks full of short stories she's written, but her latest piece is a poem; more later ✦ zeynep has a competitive streak, likely from growing up with a brother. she's also incredibly passionate, and sometimes, these two traits mix together in a 'deadly' way; more later lmao ✦ comfort matters deeply to her. this isn't just mental comfort, but physical, as well. for as much as she wants to have her mind at ease, she also needs to have her body relaxed and at peace. wrapping up in several blankets at a time can help zeynep with this, and if you end up visiting her in her room, you'll likely see her in burrito form ✦ loves psychology and reading about it; more later yeet ꒰ wanted connections꒱

✦ other librarians, as well as those who visit the library, please! i'd say this is where she gets most of her social interaction, and something about it being 'professional' really helps her to keep that hat on and choose what words she's going to use with a lot more intention than just in a regular conversation. she can answer questions about facts and books a lot better than she can talk about herself. watch out, though, she might start rambling about a topic she's really interested in, and then you'll be stuck listening to Nerd Shit:tm: for at least five minutes ✦ i'm ngl, having either her father, her brother, or both of them would fill me with such happiness, i can't even describe. they're both part of her support system, and she's part of theirs, holding their hands, telling them it's going to be okay, or giving them sympathetic smiles if they're having a rough day ✦ i'd say she might do the above (holding hands and telling them it'll be okay during a rough spell) for people she's close to, as well. it might take a little bit of extra effort to become an actual friend of zeynep's, but once you are, it means that she feels more comfortable with you than anyone else and can let herself just be, without having to feel self-conscious. she can engage the way she wants, without having to explain. she might not be overtly talkative, but she understands that being a physical presence is important, too, when it comes to others not feeling alone. just being there for someone, essentially, whether they're talking about an issue or just silently spending time with each other making idle chatter ✦ i'd say she's rather understanding towards others, except for when they're being assholes. then, she'll think the most petty thoughts about you all while staring you down a bit menacingly. seriously, it's kind of scary how she can get. even if she's not saying what she thinks out loud, it's not hard to tell how she's feeling, especially if it's anger or frustration ✦ it's been ten years, so maybe a past romantic interest or two? i have no idea exactly how this would have gone, so we can discuss it in depth together if you're interested. she has a preference towards men, but needs to have a connection with them on some level to be able to take the step of "hey, we're in a relationship now". she doesn't want to play around, or do casual dating - but hey, that could have happened in the past, before she figured out what she's interested in. and/or closed herself off because she thinks her illness would be too much for someone else to handle ✦ i'll get more here later as i think of things!!

#cw illness mention #cw illness #cw mental health #cw anxiety #cw panic attacks #cw familial death #cw death #( interactions — zeynep. )#( visage — zeynep. )#( vibes — zeynep. )#( featuring — name here.)#survivors.intro

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frostbite-fics · 2 years

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To Be of Service- Google x GN!Reader

This started as a thought exercise about how advanced androids could help in home medical care and turned into this.

Content warnings: References to PTSD, mild depiction of panic attacks and nightmares

Word count: 1400+

Google IRL.

The revolutionary product, designed to make your life so much easier. With dozens of customizable programming options, they could do most anything you needed. They were even used in applications previously reserved for service animals. Guiding the visually impaired, monitoring vitals to predict a seizure, performing household tasks that proved difficult for a person. They really were amazing things, feats of modern programming.

And now you had one. At the recommendation of your care team, you finally got your own Google IRL. The doctors made the suggestion because an android would be more beneficial to aid your recovery than a service dog.

Please read instructions completely before operating your Google IRL device.

The booklet went over all the basics of owning and operating your Google android, including basic setup, commands, limitations, maintenance, and troubleshooting. With a hesitant breath, you started the android up. His eyes opened and looked around the room quickly before settling on your face.

"Good afternoon, I am your Google IRL android. For your convenience I have been preloaded with several protocols and programs to assist with daily life. Would you like me to go over them now?"

"Please do," you responded quietly.

"I have been preloaded with protocols for several household tasks, such as cleaning, food preparation, and household maintenance. I have standard functionality to perform first aid and reach out to emergency services if needed. My primary objective is to assist with daily activities and answer questions as quickly and efficiently as possible. Does this explanation suffice?"

"Yes, Google. Let's begin with the initial setup."

It took a while to get all the basic setup out of the way and let Google connect to the servers to update. You made sure the list of protocols the doctors had listed for you were installed and functional. It was strange at first, having a robot that seemed so human milling about in your home, but after a few days you found a sort of balance. You hadn't done much beyond the included tests with the additional protocols, hoping that when they were needed he would be able to do them properly.

For the first few weeks he was mostly making use of his basic protocols, doing tasks around the house and keeping track of appointments. He would go out with you on errands, which made the whole thing so much easier. When you had trouble speaking, he was your voice. When you didn't have the energy to take care of yourself, he was there. It was the simple act of him existing with you, the promise of him being there in a bad situation that made the initial awkwardness worth it. He was usually quiet, but had seemed to develop a personality as time went on. You had asked him once if he wanted you to call him something other than Google, but he had nonchalantly told you that you could call him whatever you pleased, and he would register it to his memory. You decided to think on it another time.

Oh no, not this nightmare again. You were haunted with the memories of the past, the things you had been through. You knew you were dreaming. You always did now, when you had this nightmare. Please wake up already. It was no use. The dream continued on, showing you the painful reminders of your past. No, stop. No more. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!

You shot upright in bed, chest heaving. It felt tight and heavy and full of ice. You looked around the room, trying to ground yourself.

"Y/N." You yelped in surprise and fear. "Your vitals suddenly spiked. Are you alright? Would you like me to perform a medical scan?"

"N-no Google. Please just come here, and can you turn on the light?"

"Of course," the soft light flicked on and you watched Google approach the bedside. "Shall I begin the panic attack protocol?"

"Please, Google."

With a nod, he sat beside you, gently taking your hand. "Please follow along with me as I guide you through a breathing exercise. This will help regulate your heart rate and lower your adrenaline and cortisol levels."

He led you through breathing exercises and grounding techniques, until the trembling of your body calmed and your heart rate returned to normal. In this moment you were very grateful to have been recommended Google instead of a service dog. "Your vitals are regulating to satisfactory levels. Would you like me to get you a glass of water and something to eat?"

"Yes, please. Thank you, Google. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Of course, Y/N. I am here to assist you. I'll return shortly with water, and something light to eat."

He returned minutes later with a glass of water and a granola bar and watched you intently until both the water and the granola bar were gone. He silently took the wrapper and the glass from you, and you vaguely heard his footsteps as he padded around the kitchen before returning to your side again. He looked at you so gently, if it wasn't for the faint glow in his eyes, he'd look completely human.

"Google? Can you lay with me?" You felt embarrassed just asking. Logically as his owner, of course he'd agree, but it still felt awkward to ask.

"Certainly," he carefully laid down on the bed. "What would you like me to do now?"

"H-hold me. Please…" you whispered, almost hoping he didn't hear. He shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you gently.

"Is this adequate?" He asked, equally quiet. You nodded, leaning into his embrace and laying your head on his shoulder. For a few minutes you just curled against him, trying to relax enough to sleep again. "You are crying. Am I hurting you?"

"No! No, I just… I'm overwhelmed. I don't like walking up from nightmares and feeling like I'm back there again."

"I understand now. Crying is an excellent way to regulate yourself when feeling overwhelmed. I recommend you allow yourself the opportunity to release your emotions. I assure you that whatever you dreamt about that scared you so much, I will protect you. You are safe in my care."

You buried your face in his chest, squeaking out a small "thank you" before your body shook from the sobs racking themselves through your body. His hand gently stroked your hair, and that gentle affection was so much more comforting than you could put into words. You hiccuped as more tears fell from your eyes. "I-I'm sorry," you sobbed. "I'm sorry you have to put up with me clinging to you like this."

"Don't apologize. There is nothing I'd rather be doing than comforting you at this moment. Please let this work its way through you. I'm not going anywhere and I've got you. You're safe."

He held you until you shed your last tear. You fell asleep, cradled against him and woke still in his arms. You slowly looked towards his face, expecting him to be staring at the ceiling. His eyes were closed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he really was just another human like you. He really was an amazing feat of science. “Y/N, I see you’re awake.” he turned his face towards you, “Are you feeling adequately rested?”

“Given the circumstances, I’m feeling well enough.” You sat up slowly, checking the time. 9:27 AM.

“I felt it appropriate to disable your alarm as your sleep was severely impacted last night and you do not have anything on your schedule until 1 PM. Shall I prepare you breakfast?” You nodded wordlessly, slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Entering the kitchen carding your hands through your still damp hair, you saw Google at the stove. You sat down, watching him cook with carefully calculated motions. He set the plate on the table in front of you and immediately began cleaning up. The comfortable silence settled into the room as you finished your meal.

“Would you like me to accompany you to your appointment this afternoon?” You nodded, feeling silently grateful to have such a wonderful android in your life.

#frost fics #googleplier x reader #gn reader #cw panic attacks #cw nightmares #tin man

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i-cant-stop-fandoming-help · 1 year

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“ YOURE ZO MEAN TO HER AND FOR WHAT/LH “ -Nug, after i shared this fic with them

This is short and badly written because of my major burnout, but here’s your semi-monthly Rei angst

CW for panic attacks, burning alive. (Lemme know if i need more cws)

in, out, in, in, in, out. In, out, out, out, in.

She could still feel the bright orange and yellow dancing around her, burning away the hairs that had rested on her arms.

Out, out, out, out, out, in, out.

Rei could still hear the sparks popping and the kidnapped victims screaming.

Out, in, out, in, in, in.

She could feel the unbearable heat reach her face.

It was approaching rapidly.

She could feel her hair heating up and beginning to burn.

In, in, in, in, out, out, out.

"Stop!" She cried out, begging for mercy. Tears streamed down her face.

A familiar hand was placed on her shoulder, reminding her that she was no longer there. No longer burning. She was safe, she was fine. Just a few burns that would heal over time.

"Miss Mekaru?" Keisuke Iranami asked, rubbing her shoulder somewhat comfortingly. "You're crying. Are you alright?"

Rei creased her lips. "I... it burns." was all she could say, before she fell to her knees and letting every single unshed tear out.

#rei mekaru #keisuke iranami #dra/sdra2 #cw panic attacks #cw burning alive

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mahalshairyballs · 2 years

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Some more about Marlene & Jake and boundaries

Jake has pretty clear boundaries to respect. The others do too but it's less...you have less chances to stumble into them by mistake I'd say?

With Jake and his SOs, they have to understand, even if he did some progress there, that he won't be as physically affectionate as most people.

Frenchie understood it pretty well, so did Layla. He just had to tell them that he didn't like it/it made him uncomfortable without going into more detail and they respected it. Layla had Steven and Marc for that, so she had no problem not being physically affectionate with Jake.

Frenchie made sure to respect Jake's boundaries even though he did miss that kind of intimacy. Jake ended up trying to work through some of his touch anxiety in therapy and with both of them for Frenchie.

After almost two years of work, he was able to be physically affectionate for more than 10 seconds, but he still needed a heads-up and not being taken by surprise. And it usually didn't last more than a handful of minutes. If they were cuddling on the couch, he had to move, not stay in the same position for too long, but it was mostly alright. He still got anxious, but it was manageable, not that overwhelming panic anymore.

Marlene, of course, had been with Marc so she didn't know about that. Jake told her pretty early on since she was very handsy. With her, he told her the closest thing from the truth, and the earliest than any of his previous relationships. He had been as honest as he could be so she could understand.

When she said 'you weren't like that before'

He responded 'some memories came back to me, few years ago, they're really bad ones'

All this was technically true, while still making Jake look like he was Marc, and still giving the message across that it was pretty serious. She was studying psychology, she should know about repressed memories right ?

She did seem to get it, at first. Then later on she seemed to behave like she had forgotten what he told her, like his boundaries with physical intimacy were some new quirks, that he was just being difficult.

Every time she touched him without warning and he tensed up, or he told her to move after she had been sitting on him for more than 5 minutes, she rolled her eyes, or sighted loudly or made a snide comment. And she'd do it again.

Jake hated making - visibly - a fuss, especially out in public. He could hold her clothes, the fabric in the little of her back, the sleeves of her shirts, so they'd still be close while walking together. He thought it'd be enough. But she often grabbed his hand, and held it until he had to slid it away - and then crossed his arms so she wouldn't grab it again.

She started to question him, saying he didn't love her enough, that he was ashamed of her, that her friends' boyfriends didn't do that sort of things.

She invited him to outings with her friends, and told him to not be 'so cold' in front of them, to not embarass her.

Jake was at a loss with what to do, he thought not going at his own pace would be counterproductive. He didn't want to regress there, he didn't want his panic attacks to come back.

So he tried explaining it to her again. She seemed to get it, she didn't push for more physical affection...for a while. And then it was all back to square one. Where she was physical with him whenever she wanted, and if he said something or pushed her away she would roll her eyes, whine or sulk.

Marlene 'Why can't we just hold hands, you're telling me that's too much for you?'

Jake 'I can hold hands, just...not as much as you want. I'm doing my best, it's still difficult for me okay ?'

Marlene 'What could possibly have happened since we dated that you can't even hold hands? You're not the only army guy I've known, or even the only guy in the black market, none of them had that.'

Jake 'Yeah, well life's experiences different. Told you it wasn't about the army...'

Marlene 'So where was it? Did you get abused as a child or what?'

Jake barely felt something break in his hand, what had he been holding? A...glass? A glass of...oh a glass of wine. His thoughts seemed far away, echoing in his head. He was thinking things but he couldn't remember them as soon as they came out. Marlene wasn't in front of him anymore, she moved? Did she say something else?

He felt the familiar fog plaguing his mind, he felt his grip loosening.

No! He couldn't leave! They didn't know he was with her, they couldn't know. They'd be so mad, they wouldn't understand!

...

Coming into an unfamiliar place again, brilliant, just what he needed today. He didn't miss that at all. The apartment was well lit, and big. There was a blonde woman he could see in the kitchen.

His hand was burning. The sharpness of the pain came to him in an instant.

Bloody hell

He looked at his right hand, it was bleeding. A lot. Blood dripping down on the carpet underneath. Big shards of glass were still in their hand. A glass of wine in pieces.

Ow ow ow bloody...fuck it hurts

Steven had to take those pieces of glass immediately off of their hand and clean this up and...

Marlene : 'honey...oh my god what did you do?'

...ask Jake a lot of questions.