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starry-snippets · 1 year

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part 4 jotaro + anxiety attack (tw: nightmares, implied ptsd, grief, chatacter death but no specifics)

thinking about sleeping with jotaro, wrapped in his arms until he tosses in his sleep. you feel the weight leave your sides and it stirs you awake yourself but what concerns you most is his heavy breathing and sweat rolling down his temples. he's gritting his teeth - his normally peaceful face while asleep replaced with nothing but stress.

you readjust yourself so you can hold his hand, your boyfriend immediately squeezing it as he grinds his molars. after a few moments of trying to stir him awake to only have your hand tightly held, you begin to feel pain seep in from how much force he's using.

"jotaro, please wake up." your voice is weak because of weariness, anxiety, and the pain from his grip and your inability to loosen it. "you're hurting me," his grip loosens there but his eyes remain closed. you use your other hand to gently cup his cheek, rubbing soothingly across his skin. "it's okay jotaro, I'm with you." he inhales, inable to speak despite wanting to reassure you he's fine.

his mind is running rapid with memories of battling dio - the lives lost and cruelties he had to bare witness. jotaro's chest feels impossibly tight, like he can't breath despite audibly gasping.

"honey," you say borderline panicked. remaining calm since you know he needs your help, you continue to stroke his cheek and take his hand again to rub circles on his palm. "breathe in and out. let's do it together?"

jotaro hates this feeling; the feeling of being unable to control himself. he's wanted to be strong for you since the first stand you fought together nearly killed you. but here he is now, unable to stop hyperventilating without you holding his hand and your soothing voice counting to twelve for him.

despite the voice telling him he's being weak, jotaro finds a growing peace in him to combat the overwhelming despair he felt from his dream. your kind voice giving him the strength to walk away from this ledge. you continue to rub circles into his palm while your other hand's still against his cheek, he takes a moment to relish in your touch while shakily stabilizing his breathing.

"I know that what we went through rivaled Hell," you say once he's opened his eyes, those beautiful azure eyes you fell in love with staring up at you, positive he's calmed down enough to take things in. "but no matter what I'm here for you. we didn't survive that emo reject together so you could fight through everything else alone." you lean down to kiss his nose, feeling the residue of his sweat on your forehead. you don't care at all as you're too worried about his well being.

"I love you so much jotaro. you're not alone. whatever you need, I'll try my hardest to provide." You kiss his nose again then say, "you mean everything to me jotaro." next you trial down to kiss his cheek, a bit startled when he pulls you into his chest with a hand on the back of your head.

silence consumes you both but it's not awkward. you hear his breath hitch every so often, making you think he didn't want you to see him cry. you don't blame him, feeling relieved that he's comfortable with you enough to let you aid him when grief overcomes him - even if it's just a little at a time. his voice is the shakiest you're ever heard it as he strokes the hair on your head, trying to calm his building sorrow for a second time.

"stay... please, I can't lose you too."

#jojos bizzare adventure x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo #jotaro x reader #jotaro x you #jotaro x gender neutral reader #angst #jjba angst #jjba x reader #jjba part 4 #jjba x y/n #jjba x you #jjba #tw anxiety attack #tw ptsd #tw nightmares #tw character death #jjba blog

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fishymom-art · 7 months

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You asked and I answered:

TMA PROMPTS THAT I WISH I WAS A GOOD ENOUGH ARTIST TO CREATE

-Martin patching Jon up after his *cough* scuffle with Daisy (pining)

-Jon coming back from being kidnapped by Nikola royally MESSED UP + Martin help :)

-Martin having a royally bad time in his house with Jane outside

-Tim and Martin are friends and Tim gives of fierce older brother vibes

-Martins mom sucks ass and Tim being the only one who knows about how bad she sucks and Tim trying to act like he doesn’t know but like. Sneak really subtle affirmations into normal conversation with him and it just makes Martin’s damn day

-I’ve never seen someone draw the aftermath of Martin finding out about how his dad looks with Elias? I haven’t seen anyone go over what the drive home was like after that, or years later with Jon how the nightmares of anxiety manifests itself.

-these are getting really long

-Jon loving cats and being able to relax around cats

-Martin taking. Just so many pictures of cats to get Jon’s attention both pre and post relationship starting

-Martin cussing

-Jon being incredibly surprised at Martin cussing

-Tim being incredibly thrilled at Martin cussing

-Sasha giving one of those impressed nods at Martin cussing

-Sasha and Jon are friends and give off fierce “same age siblings but older than Tim and Martin” vibes

-Sasha helping Jon out of anxiety attacks and Jon doing the same for her when her pressure in the Archives is really high

-Whatever happened to that terrier that got in the Archives….?

-Jmart first kiss :)

Please let me know if you need or want more

Didn't do all of them, coz that is a LOT

But here's what I drew! 1. Martin having a royally bad time in his house with Jane outside 2. Sasha helping Jon out of anxiety attacks (didn't do the reverse version sorry :< ) 3. Martin cussing and everybody else's reaction! (i was going to write Lukas instead of Elias but then Tim and Sasha wouldn't be there-) 4. Jonmartin first kiss

Thamks for the prompts!!!!!

#fishymom-ask #the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #jane prentiss #jonmartin #jmartin #tw trypophobia #tw anxiety attack

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ramblingoak · 7 months

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Well folks I meant to finish up the next chapter of The Cardinal’s Bride today but I’ve had a migraine all damn day. Unfortunately I was subjected to some things yesterday that caused a pretty bad anxiety attack. This led to sleeping even less than usual and well…here we are.

So my aim is to finish it up this week. Have lots of other things I’m working on too (including prompts I still have in my inbox!).

This is a gentle reminder to please use trigger warnings, tags and any other method you can when posting about sensitive subjects. If I ever post anything that you think should have a tag please shoot me a message and I’ll be happy to do so in the future!

Love you guys!

#oakie ramble #tw anxiety #tw anxiety attack

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dreamties · 1 year

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there's nothing really wrong with me; i'm just choking almost constantly || Polyam! Ghostface x GN! Reader

title from Twinkle Lights by The Sonder Bombs

Reader is dealing with the aftermath of their sexual assault, to which they still haven't told Billy and Stu that it was even a thing that happened. After a particularly rough night, the boys comfort them.

1st person POV

TRIGGER WARNINGS: there is reference to past SA, but it's not too graphic. the reader talks about it and there's like, references about it through out the text- and I know it can be really traumatic for some to read it so PLEASE be careful and read at your own risk. panic attacks, nightmares, i believe that's it !! let me know if I need to add more warnings!!

I blink awake, filled with an erratic, heart-pounding panic. It takes a moment to realize where I am- home, in my bed, by myself. I'm not at the trailer and I can't feel his breath down my neck anymore.

I let out a shaky breath and sit up slowly, trying not to shock my body anymore.

My body feels unstable and wrong as I walk through the house. My mind and body caught in a fuzzy sort of dream state.

I dial Stu's phone number, because I know he'll ask less questions than Billy- and that's what I needed right now. Just a distraction.

I school my voice to properly fake that sort of "I'm fine, nothing bad has ever happened to me" tone.

I clear my throat. "Stuey? I know it's a little late, but-"

"Nah, it's okay, baby. Whaddya need?"

I laugh- of course Stu sounds so chipper, he was likely up looking at Play Boys or watching total torture porn (aka a load of trash).

"Could you pick me up? It'd be nice to stay at your place tonight."

I can practically hear him grin on the other line. "Ab-so-LUTE-ly!"

I kind of half-giggle and thank him. I pull on an extra-long hoodie and grab the handmade Michael Myers plush my friend gave me off my bed. I wait out on the front porch for him to arrive.

I settle into Stu's bed, and he hurriedly puts his magazines and other items under his bed, careless to the minor scrumpling to his merchandise.

“Hey baby,” he kisses the top of my head and I try not to shrink away too much when he does so. I know it’s Stu, I know I’m safe- I can still feel his touch around my body, his hands at my throat, though. It’s so hard not to think he’s there with me, in bed next to Stu and I.

I smile at him and let him turn his lamp off even if the darkness and the looming shadows in his room are wholly disorienting.

I can feel a light tickle against the shell of my ear, like someone is whispering, “I won't be able to stop myself.” I shake him off of me and turn to my other side.

Just leave me alone, please.

I probably toss in my sleep the whole night, but Stu doesn’t seem bothered when we wake in the morning. My eyes are bleary and blinking back tears, hoping he doesn’t see.

I should know better than to think Stu could keep any secret from Billy. I'm still surprised, however, that Billy jostles into the Macher's kitchen at 9am, already with a prickled attitude.

I drop the spoon into my bowl of cereal, milk splashing up and over onto the counter. I try to school my expression into something more neutral, so my surprise doesn’t hurt him.

“Billy,” I greet.

He replies back with my name, which I can only half-hear through the fuzzy, distant feeling in my body.

Billy sits on a stool next to me, moving my bowl a little further from my reach. “Why were you up so late?”

I half-laugh, still tired, still groggy. “What, I’m not allowed to stay up?” I tease. And the hurt sick feeling settles in my throat.

Billy shakes his head and sighs- he’s clearly frustrated.

Stupid. Stop teasing him, he’s- I physically shake the thought off. Trying desperately to repel the negative energy like water to oil. Get it together.

“C’mon,” Billy tries again. He seems abnormally pissy, and I wonder what Stu told him on the phone. It’s no way that either of them could have figured it out, but the lump in my throat still grows at the possibility.

“Just- missed Stu. That’s all.”

“You brought along your plushy,” he says, like that’s supposed to prove anything. “And that big hoodie of yours that you only wear when you’re sad.”

“Did Stu tell you that?” I try not to sound too antsy or annoyed. I know they’re only worried. Of course they’re worried- of course they know my tells like the back of their hands. I should have just stayed home, even if that meant waking up with the feeling of him pressed against my body.

He nods. “You always tell us what’s wrong,” and he whispers my name in that hard-soft tone he gets when he’s anxious. I shiver.

“Nothing’s. . . nothing’s wrong.” I try and I know it’s bullshit. It’s a dumb attempt and Billy sees right through it. “Nothing that you can fix.”

And I know Billy takes it as a personal attack- that I think he can’t take care of me. That his comfort isn’t enough, that he isn’t enough. I don’t know how to tell him that’s not what I meant, though, without telling him what happened. It feels hard to breathe, I take a shaky, sharp breath in. It doesn’t help.

I don’t even know what’s going on, my eyes teary and blurred. My ears are ringing out. My body feels so fuzzy and too soft at the edges. My thoughts muddle in my brain and I don’t know if I'm breathing or talking or breathing or- I gasp out.

Stu’s hands hold my shoulders tightly, trying to ground me. He’s done it a hundred times before, and it works nearly every time.

My breath is labored, heavy and quick. Too quick. I still can’t feel myself breathing.

Billy and Stu both try to reassure me- I think. Their voices still unclear through the fog.

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, sorry, sorry,” I repeat, till the word feels unsafe and garbled through my lips. “Shouldn't have to- shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have to. Have to- have to worry.”

My voice sounds so far away, like I’m speaking into a dying microphone, to the clashing, screaming crowd before me. Feeling so unheard, so unseen, even at center stage.

The fog fades around Billy’s voice. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Just- stop apologizing,” my name is slow on his tongue. “Can you hear me? C’mon, baby, you’re worrying Stu.”

And I should respond. But everything just feels so- off. I’m not even sure what I’d say. I don’t want to explain myself.

When the fog finally finally cuts through, I can breathe again. I’m sitting on the tiled floor of the Macher kitchen, with my knees pulled up against my chest. Billy and Stu sit on either side of me, their hands tentatively retracted from my body.

I can finally breathe in the clearing. I could cry, if feeling my feelings didn’t hurt so much. If everything didn’t hurt.

My breath takes a while to steady, and when it does, Billy takes this as a sign to pounce on me again.

“What happened, baby?” And he sounds so . . . concerned. It hurts to know I’m hurting him. My body aches with every pound of my heart against my chest.

“I think I had a panic attack,” I managed.

Stu lets out an awkward laugh, and I don’t freak out this time when he touches my shoulder. “No shit!”

He murmurs an apology and repeats himself, quieter now. It was sweet. Stu was so sweet and I can’t get over myself to just- live and not cause all this . . . all this angst and trial and tribulations between us. Billy would remind me- if I vocalized this ache - in my own words, that having tough emotions aren’t a burden. It feels like it is though.

“I’m sorry,” I try and Billy shushes me. He seems annoyed still, I know it’s just the look he has when he’s scared, though.

Fuck, he’s scared. Get yourself together.

I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Okay, fine. I can’t apologize, I get it.” I realize now that my voice croaks out, like I'd been crying.

My eyes still feel hazy around the edges and they still struggle to focus on anything properly.

“What can I say then?” I teasingly ask, and I feel sick to my stomach.

Please don’t ask me why. Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why. Please.

“What’s up with you?” Billy asks. I’m not sure if that’s any better of a question though.

“I- I can’t tell you.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Stu sighs, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. His fingers tense when he speaks. “Please? We won’t- Stu glances at Billy and then back at myself- I won’t ask any other questions, I promise.”

I give a humorless laugh in response. “Real assuring.”

“C’mon, I can’t control what Billy does,” he whines.

And there it is again. The lump in my throat. His breath tickling against my face. “I just can’t control myself around you.”

The attempts to shake off his incessant greed seem to only be in vain.

“Just- just get off of me, please,” I have to wrench the words out of my throat. “Please, ‘m sorry for- I’m sorry- just. Let go.”

Stu quickly winds his hand from my shoulder and puts his hands up, in defense. He looks at me all confused, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed.

He lowers his hands and gives me those stupid, big blue puppy eyes. “What’s wrong?” And he says it so gently. His voice felt warm and comforting.

“Just- I. Give me a moment.”

“Okay,” both boys reply.

“I- I think I was sexually assaulted.” My voice comes out in a tight whisper, lodged somewhere between my throat and the tension of the kitchen conversation. “I thought- I thought it was my fault or maybe it didn’t- it didn’t happen. Or- or maybe I misremembered it but-”

My voice gets caught and I let out a measly sob.

“Woah,” Billy carefully reaches a hand out towards me, but doesn’t touch me. “Woah, woah. Baby,” he whispers. “What- who did this to you?”

I sniffle. I didn’t want to tell them.

It felt so much more real speaking it aloud.

His voice feels dirty against my body, and I just want to get away from him. But he’s in the walls, he’s in my dreams. And I can’t escape. He’s sitting with me as my boyfriend’s try to comfort me.

“I know better than that. I should have known better than that and-” my throat feels all funny, like I can’t breathe again. A sharp intake in, a shaky breath out. “And I still let him put his grubby hands all over me.”

“Woah, baby,” Billy’s voice is impossibly quiet and calm. He appears more apologetic and concerned with how I am, than the dark, revengefulness that usually seeps out of him when someone hurts me. “Baby, look at me, okay?”

I keep my head snuggled at the top of my knees, straining my eyes to look in his direction. I hum, not trusting myself to speak without crying.

“It’s not- it’s not your fault. Whatever happened, it’s-”

My mouth seems to be on its own agenda. And my head feels impossibly fuzzy again. Everything is so . . . so disconnected. I tap my fingers against my shins, and they don’t feel like they’re really there at all. No matter how many times I tap them in the same familiar pattern.

Nothing feels right.

“I shouldn't have been such a tease. I- he told me to stop, said he wouldn’t be able to control himself if- and, and I didn’t listen, Billy. Was so confused, didn’t know where I was, Stuey and- and he- I told him that. But I should’ve listened. He w-warned me and I should have- I’m sorry.”

“Hey, shh,” Billy tries once more. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, baby. Whatever- whoever it was, who convinced you . . . it doesn’t matter, okay? He doesn’t- you didn’t make him do anything. You-” even Billy struggles with it.

He sighs, “what do you need from us? Just right now- what do you need at this moment, okay?”

Stu tries, as well. Learning from his previous mistake.

“Is it okay to hug you or touch your shoulder right now?”

I shake my head. His hands at my throat, his voice tickled against my face.

His hands at my throat, telling me to behave.

Taking my “i’m fine”s and “okay”s out of context, blatant ignorance of my confusion.

“Could we just- could we sit on the couch maybe?”

It felt better, safer, in the openness of the living room.

Like I wasn't going to suffocate and, like, explode or something.

Stu's hanging his limbs off one end of the couch, and Billy tentatively perches on a couch arm. I assume Billy is sitting strangely to give me space- Stu's position is natural though. He always sits weird, and does things weird, which I love. I love him. I love Billy, and I'm just. I'm hurting them- I'm sitting in the middle of the couch, shaky and strange, and hurting them.

“What can we do?” Billy sounds gentle. He sounds sincere. I think . . . he is. The whole situation is strange and terrifying. I want to go back to sleep and hope when I wake that the past few months were some fever dream instead.

I let out a shaky, heaving sigh.

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“That’s- that's okay. Baby,” his voice is sturdy, despite the uncertainty bleeding in.

“Yeah!” Stu smiles at me, and it feels sort of warm. It feels almost good.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with someone so damaged.” I stare at my feet and my hands fidgeting absently in my lap. Tears pricking, stinging at my eyes.

I stumble over and retract apologies in my head. Trying to justify what he had done to me, to pin what he said, to pin his hands around my neck and push me down, as my own fault. As my own actions.

I can’t tell Billy that. Not to him, not to Stu.

Billy has this restrained look in his eyes, and his face is twisted into an almost scowl. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know I shouldn’t have said that. Because Billy thinks he’s broken, all the time.

He’s told me or alluded to his mom’s disappearance, to his asshole father. About the disconnect between himself and his own thoughts, his hands and his actions. He’s told us why he’s only ever felt safe and trusting in the arms of his lovers.

And that he’s so afraid that one day, we’ll up and leave him, too.

That he’s too damaged, too broken, to be loved.

And I go and fuck it up again. I only know how to hurt.

“That’s, wait- that’s not. I’m sorry, Billy. I-”

And his voice is uncharacteristically sweet. It’s calm and low, and I can’t hear held back anger.

“It’s okay.”

“What?” My voice is small and squeaks out, unsure.

“It’s okay. Baby," Billy says my name with my name with care. “You’re not- you will never be too fucked up to be loved by us.”

Stu smiles, protective. “I- we will never let that happen to you again.”

They offer physical comforts, they lean closer but not close enough to touch me.

Maybe I shouldn’t be so trusting. He had promised to never hurt me and I followed him blindly. But Billy & Stu aren’t him. And I should be allowed to put my faith into others, without fearing I'll be hurt again.

I lean into Billy's touch, allowing him to encase me in his strong arms. Stu leans against us, bringing his long, sweater-clad arms around the huddled mess of us.

Maybe it's against my better judgements.

Maybe it's a mistake.

But maybe, too, this is safety. This is love.

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the-skybrary · 5 months

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Our head protector, Raph, wanted to make a comic documenting some of his personal experiences, since he's a unique case to our system. Part of it was to vent and get the thoughts out of his head, but mostly he just wanted to send a positive message out into the community. We hope it finds you well.

Transcript of the dialogue below the cut:

I’m not like everyone else here. Most of this system is made up of various versions of the core, and they all look like some alternative of the body. A sporty version, a goth version, a punk version, a motherly version. But all of them are her in some way, shape, or form.

There are some fictives here, too, of course. The ratio is about 4:1 though. A majority of the fictives have little to no source memories. They aren’t exactly who they’re based on, they’re their own individual, and they are able to separate themselves from their source.

I can’t. I’m an outlier here.

I have pseudo memories. I remember a life before I came here, and that makes things complicated. Especially because I have a very important job to do.

As a protector, I stand by to help us through everything we’re going through externally. I have experience with dealing in heavy survival-mode situations, and that’s why I believe I was chosen to be here. But…it also means I ended up being given a lot of trauma memories from the body to hold onto, in addition to my own.

I’ve made my peace with my role here. I like it, actually. I have a partner, and a family, unique to this system. I have friends, and I’ve even been able to meet and talk to my source family in other systems.

Although I can’t ignore the way I feel sometimes, living in a body…in a life…that is not my own.

I can’t ignore the real emotions I experience when my source updates. Seeing my family in distress or danger, and being unable to do anything to help causes me intense anxiety. Sometimes if body is having a bad day, the memories will sneak up on me. Other times we’ll see a part reblogged and it will trigger an intense emotion. Sometimes it gets so bad that it affects the entire body and system even when I’m not at front.

I would like to clarify, though, that I’ve never blamed the artist/creator for any of that. As a matter of fact, I think I lucked out with Cass’s Apocalyptic Series being my source. They’re good to me, to my story, and my family. It’s just hard some days, being able to see your life laid out like that to the world.

I feel like a river that was once whole, and then forked to become two. Suddenly I’m going in a different direction, and the path is unfamiliar. I’m me, but I’m not him. I’m us, but I’m not her. I have both memories from source and from body, and it makes me feel…wrong.

I don’t belong here. I can’t mask well. I don’t know how to walk in a body this small. My voice is too feminine when I speak. Being without a shell makes me feel naked, even with clothes on. My claws and strength are gone. All of it is just reminder after reminder that I’m not truly Raph anymore. If I ever even was. ‘Pseudo’ means ‘false’. Fake. Pretend. Unreal.

But I’m Real. The me that exists here and now is real. I eat, I dance, I have hobbies and favorite TV shows. I talk to people in our life, and I form unique relationships with them. I exist. I am a part of this system, and that in turn makes Raph real.

I can’t explain why I have memories and emotions linked to my source. I can’t explain why I formed so differently than the others here. I’m struggling with my identity as I try to balance my job as a system protector with my place in the Outside World, and it’s a lot. Some days I feel stupid and ashamed. Some days I feel okay with it. Some days I don’t care.

I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to be an alter in a system, no matter what your relationship is to that source, or even based on what your source is! You’ll figure out your own answers with time. They may not be easy answers, and they might make certain things difficult, but I think the most important thing is how you choose to move forward with it all.

We have a saying in my family: Antawa Hitorijani. I guess I just wanted to let you know, if you’re out there and you relate to any of this, that you are not alone. And that I’m not alone either. None of us are.

~ Raph

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caspersickfanfics · 1 month

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Late Arrival Chapter 3

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack (described in detail), vomiting, fever, hospital mention, bad jokes

A/N:

Written for @monthofsick day 24: Panic ! It feels good to finally finish a multi-chapter fic for once, even though it's a bit short =v=

“–nari. Tighnari.” The earth is shaking. It’s warm. Comfortably warm for a moment, and then too much. He squirms. “Tighnari!” Oh, Cyno is shaking him. Cyno is warm. Cyno is—

“Please,” Cyno’s voice wavers. “I need to throw up.”

Tighnari bolts upright. Cyno is sick.

The forest watcher is still half asleep as he forces himself out of the bed. His head is pounding. A result of lack of rest, probably, combined with the incessant city noise, but his priority is getting the trash can to Cyno, and he manages it.

His ears flatten at the immediate sound of the bin being filled.

There are multiple waves, this time. They run in cycles. Cyno’s body tenses, hunches forward, and then with a sick gurgle, rancid smelling liquid gushes from his mouth and nose. Tighnari stands beside him and holds a mass of hair out of the way. It’s thick, and heavy with sweat. His own hands are shaking.

Something heavy sits uncomfortably in his stomach. A bubbling nausea rises in his throat, not from illness, but stress. Being woken so jarringly from such a deep sleep and days of exhaustion has left him reeling, strung out and achy.

He watches Cyno panting, head hung over the trash, and the tightness in his heart manifests into physical pain. It must be nearing 48 hours since anything’s actually stayed in Cyno’s system. His body looks thinner than it did even a day ago. He coughs, and Tighnari can easily see the outline of his ribs when his stomach contracts yet again. There’s another splatter, quickly followed by two more. Tighnari has never been squeamish, but right now the worry feels like a rampage in his gut.

Empty, Cyno leans back to catch his breath, melting into the pillows behind him. Tighnari sets the soiled trash can back on the floor. He brushes a thumb over Cyno’s cheek, catching some wetness and wiping it away, watching the sick man smile and nuzzle into his hand. He looks ill, certainly, but relaxed. Comfortable, even. Tighnari’s tail wilts between his legs and his chest squeezes impossibly further. He doesn’t want to take that from him - he doesn’t want to take anything from Cyno, and definitely not this - but a sense of safety is good for nothing if it’s only an illusion. When Tighnari finally speaks, he feels very far away.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he confesses quietly. Cyno cracks an eye open. Tighnari inhales unevenly. “I think… we should go to the Bimarstan.”

At the suggestion, Cyno goes rigid. He stares at Tighnari with some awful mix of shock, betrayal, confusion, and hurt. At the center of it all, a trembling and raw fear, the kind that makes him look far younger than his age.

“Tighnari–” Cyno speaks roughly, like it was hard for him to find his voice, and it cracks upon the single word. He’s gone ashen and bug-eyed. Tighnari melts with a sigh, sagging onto the bed and dropping his forehead to Cyno’s shoulder.

“I know.” Because he does, to a certain extent. There are few things that instill fear into the General Mahamatra, let alone to this degree. Tighnari takes Cyno’s hand in his own and stares at it. He can’t stand the sight of his partner’s pained expression any longer. “I know,” he repeats quietly. “I’m just not sure that I can help you on my own this time.”

“Tighnari. I’ll be fine.” Cyno sounds reassuring. He sounds like he believes his own words. “You’re helping. I feel better already.”

Maybe he does believe it. Tighnari can’t read minds. But he can hear Cyno’s heartbeat and it has the speed and intensity of a cornered animal. Cyno isn’t a liar - and yet, anyone can bend the truth or tiptoe around it, especially when fear is involved.

“I’ve been through worse,” Cyno says, his voice pleading for Tighnari to cave. Instead, his hands shake harder. Cyno looks… Frail. The word comes to mind and punches the oxygen out of him. His own heart pounds and there’s a rushing white noise in his ears that drowns out everything else.

“I don’t… know what to do,” Tighnari grates out. His breaths are coming too short and quick, but the harder he tries to gasp in oxygen, the more his chest hurts. He stands and his tail swishes restlessly, brushing against the floor. Cyno squeezes his hand.

“I promise,” he says. “I promise I’ll be okay, Tighnari. I don’t break promises.”

“I know you don’t.” And he does, except… “I’ll be right back. Stay here, Cyno. Please.”

Tighnari doesn’t wait for a response. He wrenches his hand away and stumbles out of the bedroom, and then out of the front door. He doesn’t make it much further than that.

He can’t.

It crosses Tighnari’s mind that he’s gasping quite loudly, to the point of nearly wheezing, and that Cyno can probably hear him; if he could claw his way further from the building, he would. The last thing he needs is to cause more stress for his partner. But his legs simply refuse to hold him, and he’s shaking from the tips of his ears to the end of his tail. He has to blink dark spots from his vision - there is simply not enough oxygen to appease his greedy lungs.

His entire chest feels like both a pulsing bruise and a stab wound and Tighnari grapples with a sort of fury, a rage at his own body’s failure at such an inopportune time. He’s managed to betray both himself and Cyno in one sitting. His left arm begins to tingle and go numb, and Tighnari wonders whether he’s being dealt some form of divine punishment in the form of heart failure.

He can reason with himself, at least, enough to recognize that this is unlikely. Teyvat’s medical research has yet to discover a definitive way to distinguish between issues of the heart and of the mind, but Tighnari is aware that he’s quite healthy and still significantly younger than the average age of those afflicted with heart problems. Meanwhile, he’s familiar with the mind’s way of tricking the body, if only from having comforted Collei through more panic spells than he’d care to recall.

But then - there are exceptions to every rule. This feels more painful than Collei has ever articulated, and counting his breaths doesn’t seem to be helping in the way it does with her. Instead he ends up coughing, choking on the very air that’s meant to bring him life. He could be an exception, something could be wrong and Tighnari wouldn’t know because he isn’t a doctor. Every time Tighnari tries to push the worry away, the fear seems to grow. If he dies here, then Cyno…

His stomach lurches. Tighnari whimpers and tugs at his hair, his ears, in some attempt at grounding himself. His tail wraps around his body instinctively as he retches. With his hearing enhanced as it is, Tighnari’s heartbeat is a constant source of white noise in his periphery, but now it sounds like thunder. He clutches at his chest and feels pathetic.

If nothing else, he can be grateful that Cyno’s apartment building is tucked into an alley and away from the busier streets of the city. It’s still loud, but at least the likelihood of some stranger spotting him in such a miserable state is lower. Tighnari is doubly appreciative of this fact when he begins throwing up. Hot vomit scalds his throat and sprays violently beneath a decorative bush. Tighnari is all but frozen on his hands and knees while his body continues to empty itself. By the time he regains control of his stomach, Tighnari can barely think.

The nausea, at least, has abated. He crawls pitifully away from the pool of puke and leans against the solid stone walls of the building. Tighnari clings to his tail, hands brushing through it in a repetitive, soothing motion, and forces himself to pause. He has a near overwhelming urge to rush back into the apartment and check on Cyno - archons, he’s been gone too long - but he must first take stock of his body. If he doesn’t, he risks scaring them both.

So, slowly, Tighnari does a mental intake of his current state. His muscles ache, but the pain is gradually diffusing, no longer so centralized to his chest. His breathing is shaky but finally effective, and while his heart is racing, it doesn’t hurt, nor does it sound so impossibly loud. He’s still shaky and his legs feel weak, and of course, his head continues pounding. Whether or not he can stand is a question he can’t answer until he’s testing it out, unsteadily managing to get his feet underneath him.

When Tighnari staggers his way back to the bedroom, Cyno is right where he left him, awake and looking devastated. He may have followed his partner’s instructions, but that clearly didn’t stop him from hearing everything. “Tighnari.” Cyno reaches for him immediately. Tighnari shuffles over, feeling dazed and embarrassed. His ears are still ringing. Cyno doesn’t comment on the way the hand Tighnari offers shakes, only shifting slightly to gently cup it in both of his own. They are warm and calloused, and so, so gentle.

“I’m sorry,” Tighnari rasps, because he hadn’t meant to be gone for so long, and maybe he shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have fallen apart at all. He tries not to think too hard about the fact that he still doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t remember crying, but Cyno wipes some wetness from under his eyes. Tighnari feels his cheeks heat up and looks away, whispering again, “Sorry.”

Exhaustion hits him like a physical force, and he drops onto the bed, staring down at the way their hands intertwine. Cyno tugs him closer, and and Tighnari allows himself to rest on his partner’s chest. His heartbeat is steady now. A regular old life-force. His fingers move to card through Tighnari’s hair, and then to scratch his ears in a way that shakes out some of their tension. When Tighnari eventually musters the strength to look up, Cyno is watching him intently. His expression is steady and determined, and Tighnari knows what he’s going to say before the words leave his mouth.

“I’ll go,” he says, and Tighnari aches because bravery is so integral to Cyno’s being. It’s something he learned so young and has had to rely on far more than is fair. “I’ll go to the Bimarstan,” he reiterates, and his voice is calm enough that if T didn’t have the ears that he does, he wouldn’t have even heard it waver.

He’s not going to make Cyno go there.

Not yet.

He realizes it all at once, as though just knowing that it’s an option, that Cyno won’t resist if it is needed, is enough to rebuild Tighnari’s confidence in his own abilities.

“Thank you,” Tighnari says, and Cyno tenses, probably steeling himself to follow through on his words. Tighnari is sure, now, that he would if it was asked of him, but he shakes his head. “I think– well, I may have overreacted a bit,” he admits.

Cyno watches him carefully as Tighnari continues. “Your fever feels better now than when I left, and you slept most of the night, which means some of the nutrients have stayed with you.”

“So,” Cyno’s voice is tentative. Tighnari nods, urging him onward. “I guess you could say I’m hereling for you.”

Tighnari groans. He can’t help it. “You’re–”

“Here-ling, like healing, and “here for you.” Get it?”

“Cyno,” Tighnari scolds. “Not the time.”

His partner shrugs, unaffected. “I think it was funny.”

Tighnari pulls away with a kiss to Cyno’s knuckles. He’s not actually upset; if anything, he still feels apologetic. But worry continues gnawing at his insides, so he gathers a few things from the kitchen before returning to Cyno’s side.

“Okay,” he says, holding up a glass. “This has some hydro-infused nutrients in it - they should be tasteless, and it’s meant to be rehydrating. I actually haven’t used them before,” Tighnari murmurs. “So although they come from a trusted colleague, if you feel anything odd after consuming this, let me know.”

Cyno nods and reaches for the glass. Unsurprising. Now that Tighnari’s offered him a way out of the Bimarstan, he’ll be content to try anything. Tighnari pulls the glass away just slightly.

“Cyno. This is important.” When he swallows, his throat is dry. “This goes not just for the drink - you’re not out of the woods yet with this ailment. If you start feeling worse, I need you to let me know. Can you promise that?”

The matra has gone still, listening quietly. When Tighnari finishes speaking, Cyno keeps looking at him attentively.

“Are you okay, Tighnari?”

The question makes his legs weak. No, he’s not, and Cyno can see straight through him. There’s an unsettling battle between the tension still running through Tighnari’s veins and the weight of his exhaustion, and his headache has only intensified. He allows himself the luxury of rolling into the bed beside his partner before responding with a sigh.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, tempted to leave it at that. But honesty is a two-way street. “I’m tired and that makes me nervous that I won’t— I might not notice if something is really wrong. You seemed so much better earlier, and I had just convinced myself that you were fine.”

“I felt fine earlier.” Cyno reaches for the medicine and drinks it slowly. “And I feel better now. But I meant what I said: I can see a doctor. Especially if it will make you feel better.”

Tighnari’s heart swells. He waits patiently for Cyno to rest the glass on his nightstand, and then wraps his arms around him. He’s still sick and sweaty and warmer than he should be, and once he’s healed, he’ll have to regain some of his muscle mass. But Cyno still manages to feel strong when he returns the embrace.

“I trust you,” Tighnari says, squeezing a bit tighter, tucking his head under Cyno’s chin. “If you say you feel better, I believe you. I just need you to keep being honest. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you because I didn’t realize I wasn’t doing enough.”

“Okay,” Cyno says. “I promise, Tighnari. I won’t lie to you.”

The words are probably more than he needed to say; Tighnari already knew this much. And yet, his body relaxes upon hearing them.

He doesn’t sleep for a long while. Cyno drifts off, still recovering, and Tighnari plays with his hair. Some of his restless energy begins to fade, but he’d rather watch his partner sleep peacefully than close his eyes. It’s a relief when the matra stays that way for multiple hours. When he wakes up, Tighnari is alarmed, briefly, and ready to reach for the trash can in the event of repeat from earlier. But Cyno only smiles lazily, yawns, and starts tracing gentle lines on Tighnari’s back. It’s soothing. Tighnari’s muscles complain as they loosen and readjust, but it isn’t the worst feeling. He fights against heavy eyelids until he hears Cyno chuckle.

“You can rest,” he says. “I’ll wake you if I need anything, Nari.”

Tighnari scrunches his face up, still resistant. It doesn’t feel right, and yet…

“I promise,” Cyno says. Tighnari doesn’t need anything to verify the truth to his words, but he listens closely anyway. Between the sound of one steady heartbeat and the next, Tighnari finally allows himself to drift off.

———

If you enjoyed the fic, feel free to let me know by replying directly to this post, by sending me an ask, or by sharing your thoughts with me privately and anonymously through this survey! Thank you so much for reading!!

#my writing #tw anxiety #tw anxiety attack #tw panic #tw panic attack #tw vomit #tw emeto #tw fever #my writing: genshin #sick cyno #sick tighnari #cyno genshin impact #tighnari genshin impact #genshin impact emeto #genshin sickfic #novemetober #novemetober rescheduled #genshin emeto

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cryptidwithaninternetconnection · 6 months

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Panic attack, made something a fall and I can’t breathe

This is someone else’s probleme, I can’t breathe this is too much dads gonna be so mad he’s gonna killl me I’m. Scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared, I can breathe moms gonna be so mad their all gonna be so disappointed in me why at 2am why why why I’m gonna cry I’m crying this is too much why at 2am their gonna be so many at me thi gonna be so mad I can’t deal I’m so scared help I can’t breathe

#tw panic attack #panic attack #tw anxiety #tw anxiety attack #tw repition #help help help

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bnesszai · 2 months

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It's still Feb 14th here so xD

skk Valentine's week day 1: May I? @bsdfanweek

Chuuya won't look at him.

His eyes refuse to focus on any one point and it's obvious that Chuuya is trying to control his breathing. It's also obvious that it isn't working.

“Chibi?” Dazai tries.

“Don't,” Chuuya bites out between teeth, but it's weak. He doesn't say anything else. A gloved hand reaches up to scratch absently at his arm.

Dazai doesn't know what happened or how Chuuya even got here, but he can recognize the signs of an anxiety attack from across the globe. He just hasn't seen Chuuya have one in a very long time.

“Chuuya,” he says, voice soft. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I don't fucking…. Nothing.”

Taking a step forward, Dazai watches Chuuya's reaction, notices how his hands tremble as they scratch at random parts of his body. “Chuuya.”

Chuuya watches Dazai make a slow approach, but doesn't recoil. “It’s stupid.”

A remark burns the tip of Dazai's tongue but he swallows it down, stopping right in front of Chuuya. He hesitates, gauging Chuuya's expression as he reaches out and grabs a hand. “May I?”

He's never had to ask before. But then, he'd never left in such an explosive and final way before, either.

Chuuya nods, eyes trying to focus on Dazai's face, but flicking around the room.

“It's not stupid,” Dazai says as he peels Chuuya's glove off, one finger at a time. “Tell me what happened?”

Chuuya watches as Dazai reaches for his other hand. His eyes trace the way Dazai's fingers pull at the leather, at the gentle unveiling of his skin. Perhaps it frightens him, something akin to unleashing the beast within, but he doesn't move.

“I was walking down the street and someone said something and it just….” Chuuya watches Dazai trace patterns into his palms and tries to take a large breath, but it stutters. “I don't know what they said, but their voice…. They sounded just like N.”

Dazai feels one of his eyes twitch but otherwise remains impassive. Humming, he continues tracing absentminded patterns into his palm. He tries to keep his breathing even, knowing that Chuuya will inevitably match it.

“That's not stupid,” he finally says.

Chuuya's fingers twitch in his hands. His eyes focus on Dazai's face, clearing slightly, stilling. The uneven rise of his chest begins to match Dazai's. “It's pathetic.”

If Dazai were the same person as four years ago, maybe he would make a joke. Maybe he would tease Chuuya and push his buttons until he felt even worse than before. If Dazai were a good person, he'd reassure Chuuya that there's nothing pathetic about still being haunted by your tormenter.

But Dazai is neither the person he was, nor a good person, so he silently tugs Chuuya forward. Chuuya only resists for a moment before falling into Dazai's chest.

“It's okay, Chuuya,” he breathes into his ear. “Listen here instead.”

After a moment, one of Chuuya's hands curls into Dazai's shirt, the other still loosely intertwined with his fingers. “Surprised you have one of these,” he mutters, pressing closer to Dazai's heart and closing his eyes.

Dazai huffs out a short laugh. “See? You're okay.”

“Your voice is so annoying,” Chuuya mumbles, growing heavy against Dazai. “Shut up.”

A laugh fills Dazai's lungs but he pushes it down, moving them to his futon. He walks and sits slow, with purpose, doing his best to not jostle Chuuya. And Chuuya doesn't move away. Instead, he presses closer still, face buried in his chest, Dazai's heartbeat in his ears, eyes slipped shut and a soft smile on his lips.

Chuuya doesn't need to look at Dazai to be grounded by him.

#bsd #skk #ness writes #absolutely no editing occurred #i mostly wrote this on lunch at work #tw anxiety attack #hurt/comfort

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wrenrogue · 7 months

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kuroken au where a certain stray black cat keeps bringing kenma dead mice every other day. Kenma doesn't know what's going on because he doesn't even own the cat to begin with. Eventually kenma let's the cat into his house and soon enough, he starts to befriend it and eventually adopts it, naming it Kuro. The cat never stops bringing kenma gifts though and becomes Kenma's emotional support animal when he's feeling especially anxious.

One day after a particularly bad panic attack, kenma kisses kuro on his lil head, thanking him for all his help and is full of love for him when BAM, kuro turns human, a very hot and very naked human man.

Kenma almost panics again but he manages to keep his composure and asks the guy who he is and where his cat is. Sexy man has a hard time speaking, making a fool of himself by trying to speak so he stays quiet and covers himself with his hands instead.

Kenma notices the guy's discomfort and brings him a towel to at least cover himself. Eventually after like an hour, the man speaks. He apologizes to Kenma and explains that his name is Kuroo Tetsurou.

He found an amulet on his way home and the owner of said amulet (a witch) found him and thought he was the thief that stole it in the first place. As punishment, he got turned into a cat. And he'd been stuck as a cat for about two years or maybe more, he's not sure.

He took a liking to kenma and felt the need to provide for him, hence the gifts. Kenma then asked what broke the curse and kuroo turned beet red at the question, mumbling an answer. Kenma wasn't having it though and asked again more firmly.

Kuroo sighs and says "apparently the curse would only be lifted if my soulmate kissed me" and now it's Kenma's turn to turn red. Both are completely awkward and conflicted about the whole thing, but eventually kenma decides to help kuroo reconnect with his old life.

They start by buying kuroo clothes of course. As they look for Kuroo's family and friends, kuroo and kenma start getting closer. They're very aware that they're soulmates, but they don't know how to address it. Every touch and glance they share is excruciating, because they want to do something about it, but they're too shy to act on anything.

Eventually, the day before they're set to visit Kuroo's old apartment, Kenma's had enough and decides to take matters into his own hands. They're on Kenma's bed, kuroo talking about his old life and watching kenma play his game, when kenma asks "kuro, what will happen to us after you find your friends and family?"

There's silence after that and kenma feels panic rising within him, maybe he shouldn't have said that. Kenma doesn't realize he's shaking and lowkey hyperventilating until kuroo is right next to him asking if he's okay and if he needs anything.

"You." Kenma says, "I need you." because it's true. Kenma has grown to love the comfort kuroo brings him

He's grown to love kuroo and wants to keep him for as long as he can. Kuroo brushes Kenma's hair behind his ear and hazel eyes meet gold. Somehow there's an understanding between them. They close the gap between them, their lips gently pressing against each other

When they part, they're breathless in the best possible way. Kenma then says "you never answered my question"

and kuroo just laughs before saying "I want to stay in your life if you allow me too?"

"Only if you do one thing for me." Kenma says.

"What is it?"

Kenma puts his arms around Kuroo's neck and says "Kiss me again?"

Kuroo smiles against Kenma's lips and says "i can do that yeah"

"Then get to it" And they close the gap between them again and spend the rest of their night lip locked and in each other's arms

The next few days kuroo does reconnect with his friends and roommates, and then later his family. He introduces everyone to kenma after their emotional reunion and explanation for his disappearance.

Kuroo's friend bokuto in particular sits next to kenma and asks "So how does it feel like to date your cat?" Kenma chokes on his drink while bokuto laughs and kuroo yells at him.

#kuroken #kuroo tetsurou #kozume kenma #meow #ficlet #2020 #honestly my old writing reads kinda cringe to me now lmao #but i like my ideas and I can see the potential to fix them up from a typical unpolished twitter thread to an actual ao3 fic #tw anxiety attack

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ellewritesandrants · 2 years

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TW: Suicide Ideation and Failed Attempt, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attacks and Child Abuse Mentioned

Time for some S2 angst! I leaned into the angst with this one and it ends on a somewhat positive note but I may have to eventually revisit this to give it the proper happy ending that Billy deserves.

Imagine Billy waking up, drugged and disoriented in a stranger’s house, frantically patting himself down and realizing he doesn’t have his keys. Imagine him stumbling out of the house only to fall to his knees in anguish at the loss of his beloved car, knowing that if he dared to return home tonight, that he’d be coming out in a body bag. If he came home without Max and without his car, he’d get beaten to death so he might as well beat Neil to it and just jump off the quarry.

Billy’s still drugged though so his wayward sense of direction unknowingly saved him that night, leading to him going around in crazy shapes, stumbling around in the forest behind the Byer’s house before eventually running out of energy. He somehow decides to take shelter under a tree, still somewhat aware of what to do since it wasn’t his first time sleeping outside even though benches made better beds than forest floors. He falls into a fitful sleep, unable to truly get any rest and falling into his childhood habit of talking in his sleep.

All this time, Hopper was busy dropping off the kids at the Byers’ for a sleepover after taking Steve to the hospital to get his head checked out. The kids had told them everything that happened while they were out and since Hargrove was nowhere to be seen when they got to the Byer’s house, Hopper had assumed he’d gone home already. Max had been the last one he’d dropped off since Hopper had to explain why Max had snuck out of the house since the others asked for permission to have a sleepover. Susan and Neil had been waiting at the door, with Susan frantically pulling Max into a hug while Hopper told Neil their agreed cover story.

Hopper had been ready to leave so he could cap the night off with a well-deserved bottle of beer when Neil asked him where his good for nothing son was. Both Max and Hopper froze because they’d assumed Billy had gone home. Hopper asked Neil what he meant by that because Billy should have headed home before Max did. Neil snarled and just asked Hopper to let him know if he sees his deliquent son so he can properly discipline him. Hopper agrees but this encounter with Neil made him feel odd and he had a weird sense of foreboding that he didn’t like.

He heads back to the Byers’ house in a daze. Hopper had to go back since he had left El there with the boys for the sleepover while he dropped off Max. He was hoping she was still awake so he could get her to help him find out where the Billy had gotten to in his drug-induced craze. While Hopper was dropping off Max, the kids were enjoying a midnight snack before heading to bed and once they were tucked in, Joyce decided to go for one more patrol around the house to make sure that there was nothing left from the Upside Down.

Initially, she didn’t find anything but just as she was heading back to her house, she heard the sounds of a boy whimpering and crying out for his dad to stop. She raced to follow it, half-worried she’d find Will or Jonathan who had been sleepwalking only to be surprised to find another boy lost in the woods. She’d seen Billy Hargrove around town and he’d never struck her as a kid until this very moment.

She found him pale and shaking while huddled under a tree, deep in the throes of a nightmare where it seemed his dad was hurting him from the cries that left his lips. Joyce had heard the same cries from a different William and back then, she didn’t hesitate to take any action and this time around, she didn’t hesitate either. She tried to slowly and carefully wake Billy up but he jumped at her touch, waking up violently but upon focusing his somewhat hazy eyes on her, he’d started begging her to help him because his dad was going to kill him when he went home.

She dared to ask how she could help and her heart breaks when he asks, no begs her to please just kill him, to do it fast so it won’t hurt like it will if his dad gets his hands on him. He asks Joyce for mercy, to please help him end his suffering before it gets added to and Joyce doesn’t know what the fuck to do. Billy’s tears are streaming down his face as he gets on his knees, begging Joyce to just do it and Joyce can’t help herself and she pulls him into a strong hug.

She calms him down slowly but surely, just enough to get him to stop begging her to kill him with every hiccupping sob before eventually getting his arm across her shoulder and trying to pull him up to stand. He’s woozy and out of balance but Joyce raised two teenage boys on her own and she knew how to take care of them.

Together, they take stumbling steps to Joyce’s house as she shushes his near silent pleas to end his suffering where she dumps Billy onto the couch before wrapping him with a spare blanket and making some cocoa in the kitchen, making sure she had a clear line of sight of Billy who’d progressed to silent tears punctured by shaky breaths.

Joyce had just gotten Billy to take the first sip of his cocoa when Hopper burst in, talking about Billy being missing and his dad asking Hopper to look for him and doing a double take at seeing Billy sat on the couch, actually looking his age for once.

Unfortunately, the sight of Hopper just triggers Billy into another spiral, once again frantically begging Joyce to just kill him before Hopper drags him back home to his father. Hopper’s shellshocked at seeing the usually aggressive and arrogant Billy Hargrove crumble into this mess of tears and snot.

Joyce immediately pulled him into a hug, glaring at Hopper as she promised Billy that they won’t bring him to that awful man and that they won’t bring him home. She swears Hopper’s a good guy before Billy wails that Hopper’s done it before and he’ll do it again.

Hopper flashes back to the few but still too many times he’d purposefully accompanied Billy home so he could tell Neil Hargrove exactly what his son had been up to.

Hopper had felt so smug after every encounter because Neil would promise to discipline his son which straightened Billy out for a few weeks before he acted out again. Back then, Hopper had thought he was helping Billy but this entire time, it turned out he was just dooming him to the same fate Hopper had suffered once upon a time.

Joyce manages to calm Billy down by getting him to listen to her promise that she won’t let Hopper take him to his father. The two sudden panic attacks wiped Billy out and with a bit of motherly love and care in the form of a hand combing through his hair while uttering soft promises of Joyce handling everything so he can rest, he was down for the count, properly this time.

Joyce made sure Billy was well and properly asleep before pointing angrily at Hopper and the kitchen, signaling it was time for them to have a good conversation about what Billy had said. She reams him in whispers for not seeing the signs of abuse there and for literally delivering him to his abuser who knows how many times.

Hopper’s just about stupid enough to tell her it was just 5 or 6 times but Joyce immediately rebukes him, telling him that was 5 or 6 times too many. She reminds Hopper of his promise to her when he’d gone and kicked Lonnie out of town, of how he swore he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt like she had after he had ignored the signs for so long.

She tells him of how she found Billy, lying on the forest floor deep in the throes of a nightmare about his father, so badly scared that the first thing he asked her to do when she asked how she could help was to ask her to kill him just so that she could end his suffering. She tells Hopper of how badly he had screwed up with Billy that he was contemplating suicide as his best option and Hopper ages at least a decade after that revelation.

Hopper had been so confident that he’d straightened up his act because of El and he didn’t realize how much he let slip through the cracks and how much he’d hurt others with his complacency and blindness to it all. He confesses to Joyce that he knows he’s in the wrong but he doesn’t know what he can do to fix it. He’s inadvertently hurt Billy so many times because of his own stupidity and there was no way he could ever make it up to him.

Joyce tells him to stop his pity party and take action. Come morning, Neil Hargrove should be arrested and Hopper needs to give Billy a genuine apology for what he did and what he wasn’t able to do until push came to shove. Joyce wants Hopper to admit his wrongs and be better moving forward.

She wants him to make sure that no one has to suffer the way she and Billy had suffered and for Hopper to help her with Billy’s recovery because she just knows that there’s no way that Billy can handle it all on his own. She tells him to think of it as his penance, to help Billy recover from everything they’d put him through with not taking action against Neil and letting the kids inject him with a foreign drug.

Hopper agrees to everything, not really capable of fighting Joyce, especially on something like this. He offers to watch Billy for the night so Joyce can rest and have some peace of mind that he’s safe since he’d already filed for a leave for the next day. Joyce begrudgingly agrees but tells him to wake her if Billy shows any signs of getting up or if he’s having any nightmares.

The next morning sees Joyce waking the kids softly before explaining the situation to them. They’d understood how much of an asshole Will’s father was but that didn’t distract them from the fact that Billy was an asshole to them. When Mike started arguing that maybe Billy deserved it, Will fights him for the first time in forever, asking that if Billy deserved it, then maybe so did he. It shuts the kids up until El breaks the silence.

El whispers that he has a bad Papa too which makes Joyce’s heart constrict at the thought of either of these kids being raised through pain and suffering and it breaks through to the kids because they know what El’s been through and if she says Billy went through something similar, they can at least understand that he’s hurting too.

Will manages to extract promises from everyone that they won’t be mean to Billy even if he is mean to them because fighting fire with fire only feeds the flames and adds to the damage.

They’re all quiet around the breakfast table until Billy slowly wakes up from the smell of bacon and pancakes before he realizes where he is and what had happened. He’d unfortunately remembered everything that happened, and he hates how he embarrassed himself and basically ruined his reputation in one fell swoop.

He feels lighter though at seeing Joyce’s smile directed at him while cooking in the kitchen but he still hesitates when she gestures for him to join them.

Billy decides to pretend like nothing happened because that’s what he’s always done so he offers to help Joyce with the food, surprising all of the kids since none of them would have thought he could cook.

He eats breakfast silently, not really adding to the conversation but not interrupting it either. Everyone else finishes before him and the kids wanted to celebrate Will’s recovery by heading to the arcade, so they left on their bikes after breakfast, leaving Billy and Joyce alone with Hopper.

Hopper had already been sent to bed by Joyce as soon as she woke up because even if she was mad at him, it didn’t change the fact that she still cared for him. He hadn’t protested which spoke volumes of how tired he was.

Joyce had made sure to put aside a plate of food for him before clearing the table and she was surprised to have Billy offer once again to help her and he’d seemed so sincere in his want to help that she accepted it.

Billy tries to put on the moves on Mrs. Byers but none of them work and he doesn’t understand why. Joyce brushes off his attempts to flirt, still treating him a kid even if she’s calling him all sorts of nicknames that he hadn’t heard directed to him in years. When Joyce notices him receding into himself, she asks him what’s wrong and he doesn’t know how to deal with a woman trying to mother him instead of get with him.

It doesn’t send him into a full-scale anxiety attack, but it was starting to build, making his walls go down and his mask start to crack. He shouts at her, asking her why she doesn’t react like the other women do.

Joyce had to take a few deep breaths to calm the fiery rage building in her gut at the fact that Billy was used to flirting with women her age and them flirting back. He was underage and not only was it illegal, but it was also disgusting for her to hear that as a mother, and it makes her want to fight every single woman who had inadvertently taught him that it was normal.

Joyce tells him frankly that she would never be able to see herself with a boy the age of her child and when she hears him mumble about how Mrs. Wheeler seemed to think differently, her blood boils. Joyce forces herself to table that conversation for later so she could focus on the lost boy in front of her who needed someone to care.

She asks Billy if she can hug him and when she notices how quickly he melts into her embrace, she realizes with a pang that Billy’s also touch-starved because of course, if the only contact you get is your father beating you into the ground, you end up somewhat craving it so you don’t mind acting out if it means someone will touch you.

That’s probably also why he flirts with every woman he comes across, because he wants to be held even if it meant dealing with their advances and actually going through with things he didn’t want if it meant he’d have human touch.

Her heart weeps for this poor boy who’d had the worst of life thrown at him. Joyce had thought she’d had it bad with dealing with the deadbeat and abusive bastard, Lonnie but this kid had no support system and no way to get out.

Goddamn it, Joyce was going to move whatever mountains she needed to move if it would mean that this kid would be able to even have a future.

#billy hargrove #billy deserved better #billy hargrove deserved better #billy hargrove au #ellewritesandrants #billy hargrove redemption #billy and joyce #billy and hopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #ultimate mom joyce byers #tw sui ideation #tw sui attempt #tw grooming #tw panic attack #tw anxiety attack #tw drugs

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minimujina · 1 year

Text

ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ

a small piece of comfort from chongyun as reader experiences a meltdown of sorts. can be interpreted as sensory overload, autistic meltdown, panic attack, etc etc, and hopefully any similar situation you could use some comfort with.

“too loud…” you cried, slapping your palms over your ears. warm tears welled in your eyes and spilled in rivers down your cheeks—“it’s too loud.” your voice was so small, so quiet. so broken.

you felt yourself losing grip on your surroundings, the deafening noises muting as if you had left the room. but one thing was keeping you tethered to your body—chongyun’s touch.

it was the feeling of your back pressed firmly against his chest; his arms enveloping you; thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your wrists. it was only when you focused on those sensations that you were able to hear him whispering softly in your ear, voice strangled with worry: “it’s okay. i’ve got you. you’re okay.”

you were burning up and your palms were soaked from clawing at your tear-filled eyes, but still chongyun grasped at you desperately, ignoring the way his own insides were igniting. he just needed you back, needed you to come back from wherever you were right now and see that he was with you. he even didn’t know that he was the only thing keeping you awake at the moment as you experienced a sort of dissociation. you felt like an outsider in your own body as it writhed and sobbed, while chongyun just held you tightly, whispering gentle comforts and brushing his thumb over the skin of your arms.

slowly, gradually, the focus you directed towards the feeling of chongyun’s soft thumb began to pull you back to your body. you could feel his chest breathing heavily behind you, his legs surrounding your own, his arms enveloping you with a comforting warmth—you didn’t know such a gentle sensation was possible. it hugged you, it compressed you, it filled you. a beautiful kind of relief washed over you in one large wave, allowing you to breathe long enough to remember where you were.

after regaining control of yourself, you managed to worm your body around enough to face chongyun, wrapping your legs around his torso and burying your face in his neck while he (after recovering from his surprise) helped you adjust and sit on his lap comfortably. the boy leaned into your touch completely, melting into you to envelope your body completely with his own. his arms fit snugly around your waist as if that was where they belonged. no words were exchanged—they needn’t have been. you simply clutched onto chongyun as if afraid you would leave yourself again, desperate to stay connected to the present despite the noise that had driven you to panic in the first place. the noise didn’t matter so long as you could feel chongyun, touch chongyun, just know that chongyun was there.

you melted into his warmth—the warmth of the boy with the cryo vision.

#mujimade #chongyun x reader #chongyun #genshin chongyun #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #tw meltdown #tw panic attack #tw anxiety attack #tw sensory overload #tw dissociation #genshin impact chongyun #gi chongyun

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limerenze · 1 year

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before and after - adrian pucey

[Adrian Pucey x Fem!Reader]

masterlist

Summary; adrian comforts y/n during + after a panic attack while they both deal with the aftermath of the second wizarding war

Word Count; 2.3k

A/N; this is based on my literal very first request. i was soooo excited to do this!!! i hope i did u justice, anon. i did tweak/add to this a little more- just so i could make it into a whole standalone but also so it could fit my writing style a little more. i do suffer with panic/anxiety attacks myself and they are not fun at all and i didn't want this to romanticize them in any way shape or form… so if you feel i did that- please know it was not my intention at all.

ALSO??? THIS IS MY FIRST FIC BACK SINCE LIKE JULYYYYY!!! HEYYY MISSED U GUYS!!!

Warnings; angst, fluff, post-war, nightmares, panic attacks, possibly a bad portrayal of panic attacks

Dates Written; January 5, 2023

It wasn't Adrian’s fault, Y/N knew that. It wasn't fair of her to blame him.

She couldn't help it though. She had done everything she could think of to avoid this happening.

Everything, short of telling him. If she had just told him, there would be no issue.

So yeah, it wasn't Adrian’s fault. If anything, it was Y/N’s.

It was Y/N’s fault that she was paralyzed in her bed. It was Y/N’s fault that Adrian was sound asleep next to her. It was her fault that it felt like an anvil had fallen on her chest and no amount of strength in the world could push it off of her. It was all her fault.

At least that's how it felt. That's how it always felt.

It always felt like Y/N’s fault. Which is why it was easier to blame Adrian.

If Adrian had known she felt such things, he would be by her side with complete and total reassurance and praise until she couldn't bare to hear it any longer.

He did everything for her. As guilty as it made her feel, sometimes she forgot he went through it all too. Sometimes she forgot he felt it all too.

He was just, so good at hiding it.

She couldn't stand the stillness of the country? Okay sure, he agreed to move to the city with her.

Their first apartment looked too much like the dormitories at Hogwarts? Totally reasonable, so he agreed to move again. This time to the heart of London, where there wasn't a moment of peace anywhere.

Turns out the city noise was too much? Adrian didn't bat an eye. He laid a loving hand on her back and told her he agreed. Then he spent every waking moment he had perfecting a muffling charm for her. He adjusted it and readjusted it until she could sleep through the night.

Adrian never complained. Not even once.

Truth be told, Adrian was happy to do it. After all, he had all the same feelings as Y/N.

Before? Before he had loved the peace that the valley mounds around their little house brought. He loved everything about the country that surrounded them. But after? After, it wasn't peaceful anymore. It was eerie. The air turned stale and he hated it. He couldn't stand it for a second longer.

Adrian wasn't sure he could ever find anything peaceful again.

Adrian didn't know what peace was anymore.

He was happy to leave the house they once called home. He was happy to rid everything from their life before.

Before didn't exist to him anymore.

Dwelling on the before was pointless now that they were in the after.

He was happy to move and move again. He was happy to mutter the imperturbable charm, a charm he perfected in the fourth year- over and over again until the girl he loved could feel a moment of peace, a moment he too strived for.

He remembers the first night the nightmares didn't wake her up. He was exhausted but he wouldn't let himself fall asleep until he heard the birds chirping. He wouldn't let himself sleep until he was sure she was okay. And when he knew she was? He was euphoric.

Adrian was ecstatic to know he helped her with that.

Y/N knew that.

That's why she couldn't bare to tell him that the nightmares had started again.

She couldn't bare to tell him none of his efforts were working. It would break her heart.

So there she lay, paralyzed.

Not in a literal sense. She could move if she wanted. Some part of her knew that.

And she did want to. She wanted nothing more than to break out of Adrian’s arms that were lightly draped over her. The rational part of her brain knew he was hardly touching her.

But the rational part of her brain was being eaten by the impending doom she felt.

Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest and her boyfriend’s skin felt like molten lava against hers.

Y/N’s breaths couldn't keep up with the speed of her heart and it felt like all her airways were being cut off. The harder Y/N tried to take a breath and the more she couldn't- the faster her heart beat.

What was the maximum heartbeat per minute before a person dies again? Y/N had read it somewhere once in some muggle textbook. For a long time, consuming the information from muggle textbooks was the only solitude she had. She couldn't remember.

It didn't matter, anyways. Whatever the number was, Y/N was sure she was approaching it quickly. To her, it was reasonable to think she would be dead in minutes.

Her breaths were quick and short, they were panicked. She felt like all she needed was one good and deep breath and everything would be okay. But she couldn't take that one breath, and so to her, nothing seemed okay. There was no end in sight.

Her ears were ringing and she didn't know how long she had been laying there. Trying to tell herself to just get up but her own fear kept her trapped on the fleece sheets.

She must've been making noise. Enough noise for Adrian to wake up beside her at least.

Adrian’s body twisted to face her entirely. He was hovering over her ever so slightly. His hand ghosted over her upper arm and his face was contorted with worry.

Usually, his hand on her body would be comforting- but right now it was the last thing she wanted. She could see with her eyes that his hand barely grazed her but it felt to her like he had the world's strongest death grip on her.

His hand seethed against her skin and her mouth was too busy trying to breathe to tell him that. Adrian’s mouth was moving but Y/N heard nothing. No words.

Just ringing.

The ringing was piercing and she couldn't decipher which part of this was the worst.

“Y/N?” Adrian called to his girlfriend. “Y/N, darling. I need you to calm down” He continued but it was no use, Y/N couldn't hear him and she was too panicked to read his lips.

“Shh, love.” He reached over to hold her and it overwhelmed Y/N enough to break out of her terrified-induced daze and push him off. Her hand laid flat on his chest and she used all her force to push him away from her.

The force she had was very little, so Adrian didn't move very far. But he understood what it meant and scooted farther away to give her the space she needed.

All he wanted was for her to feel safe.

Y/N didn't stay in the bed for very long after pushing her boyfriend off of her. She stumbled out of the bed and all but dashed into the bathroom connected to their bedroom and slammed the door shut.

Her heart was still racing and now that she was out of the bed, she could feel where her hair stuck to the back of her neck with sweat.

The bathroom tiles were cold on her feet and as she slid down the door to sit, the tiles were even colder on her bare legs. The fluorescent lights were a horrible contrast to the darkness that her bedroom held and it burned her eyes but it was the least of her worries.

“Y/N?” His voice was gentle.

She could hear it this time. That was a good sign, right?

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

‘Dumb question, Adrian’ he scolded himself in his head.

She wanted to tell him yes, but she couldn't find her voice.

“Don't come in” she managed to croak out between gasps for breath. “I’m-” Her voice cracked.

She paused for what could've been a second or an hour- she couldn't tell the difference. “I’m fine, you can go back to sleep”

“I won't leave you alone in there, Y/N” Adrian told her after a short pause himself. “I won't leave you alone”

It was a statement, but Y/N knew he meant it as a promise. Which is why she saw his shadow shuffle and settle and she knew he had taken a seat on the floor on the other side of the door.

She wanted to close her eyes but the darkness frightened her. And if she kept her eyes open, the harsh white light reminded her of all the spells being thrown around her, toward her, from her.

She needed to go where she felt safe. And that wasn't alone in the en suite.

She thought about reaching up and unlocking the door. She thought about whispering Adrian’s name and praying he understood.

But she couldn't bring herself to.

Guilt and shame washed over her and it was all she could feel.

She wanted Adrian, but did she deserve him?

Adrian sat on the other side of the slab of wood feeling helpless. He had calmed her through a hundred nightmares but never had they escalated to this. He didn't know what to do, or where to start.

He racked his brain silently, trying to think of anything that would help her. The only noise either of them could hear was Y/N’s failed attempts at steadying her breathing and her small hiccups between her sobs.

“Do you-” He stopped. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe she just needed him to leave her alone.

“Do I what?” she said back, even in distress her voice was gentle and sweet.

“Do you remember when we first moved into the house in the country?” Adrian continued.

Maybe she just needed something to focus on, other than everything running through her brain. She didn’t answer, but he knew she did. “It was our first time ever living on our own. We said all throughout the sixth and seventh year that we were gonna graduate and find a place together.” Adrian smiled at the memory.

It was from before, but it seemed when it came to Y/N- there was no before and after. There was just them.

“We got through seventh year, then our N.E.W.T.S. flew by. We looked at every listing in all of England before we found that place, tucked away in the corner of a muggle newspaper. None of the muggles wanted it, it was too secluded. I reckon the blokes who sold it to us thought we were out of our minds, taking a place like that with the shape it was in. But we didn't care. The minute we stepped foot in it, I could see on your face that you were thinking exactly what I was” Adrian paused again. Giving Y/N the chance to add to his rambling. Her hiccups had stopped, but he could still hear her slightly laboured breathing.

So he continued.

“It was our home. Then school ended and immediately we moved in. Moving the boxes was the easy part. Our trace had been lifted so we just used magic for it all. We had all of our stuff in the house within an hour. It was the unpacking and finding a home for everything that was hard.”

The two of them recalled that day in their minds. Smiles were etched onto both of their faces, not that either of them could see the other.

Just as Adrian was about to continue, Y/N spoke. “I was too busy looking through the boxes to notice that you had left me alone. I had only been in the house a few times at that point, and it took me a while to find you”

Her voice was music to his ears.

“I searched every room, and of course with my luck- you were in the last one.” Adrian could hear the smile on her face. “You stood in the middle of the empty room, not even any boxes had made their way in there yet. But you stood there, looking out the window.”

Y/N could still see the way the sun beamed onto his skin and the golden walls looked like fire. “I don't know how you knew I was standing behind you, but you did. You said-”

She was interrupted.

“This is the start of our forever” Adrian’s voice spoke gently, it made Y/N melt and suddenly she couldn't stand to be alone in the bright, cold room anymore.

Y/N pulled away from where she was sure her skin had molded to the floor, she reached up to unlock the door and pull it open.

And she saw him.

His hair was messy and his eyes were overwhelmed with worry. His old quidditch t-shirt hung loosely on his body and she would've sworn he never looked more beautiful.

“I was right, you know? That was the start, and this is our forever” He told her.

Adrian just wanted to see his girlfriend smile. And it worked, even if it was a small one.

Her heartbeat had slowed down a significant amount but it still felt foreign in her body- like it didn't belong there. And she was still hyper-aware of her the thin layer of sticky sweat that coated her body. Adrian didn't care.

“Can I-” He stopped to rephrase, “Do you want to be held?” he asked gently.

The last thing he wanted was to cause her any discomfort. But at that point, he probably needed it more than her.

Y/N nodded her head and all but threw her body forward and crashed against his chest.

His arms wrapped around her firmly and she couldn't for the life of her remember why she would ever want his touch to stop.

His touch was everything.

“Adrian?” Y/N spoke softly, not moving from where her face was buried into him.

“Yes, love?”

“Are we going to be okay?”

Adrian didn't answer for a minute. He wasn't sure he knew how.

Neither of them know how long they stayed like that for. It could've been for the rest of the night before he finally answered her question:

“Yes, love. We are.”

And there it was. Adrian’s moment of peace.

ALL FICS TAGLIST

@i-love-scott-mccall @lilyswh0re @loverssfevers @kandy1410

HARRY POTTER TAGLIST

@the-slytherin-girl @accio-samulet @lilytoyourjames @coffeehurricanes @solacestyles @iluvweasleys

join my taglist <3

#adrian pucey #adrian pucey x reader #adrian pucey imagine #adrian pucey imagines #adrian pucey fluff #adrian pucey angst #how many times can i tag adrian pucey?#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #limerenze: originals #limerenze: fics #tw nightmares #tw panic attack #tw anxiety attack

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courtneygacha · 7 months

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Hostage Scene

Tw: Overstimulation, Theatre Whump, Fake hostage situation, anxiety attack

(Based on a true story)

“Today, we’re going to try an experiment…” Teacher said. “I want everyone to split into 2 groups of 14.”

Whumpee immediately stood up to find her friends. She was almost instantly bombarded by Caretaker, Teammate One, Teammate Two, Friend, and several others who wanted to join their group.

She took charge by grabbing a chair and standing on it, while yelling at the people at the top of her lungs.

“Settle down!” Teacher said loudly, “You have ten minutes to create a scene and plan it, while finding out how to use ALL your people.”

Teammate Two was holding Whumpee’s legs so she could stand and Friend was being ‘harassed’ in the corner. Whumpee couldn’t scream over the group no matter how hard she tried. However, Teammate One could.

“HEY! Y’ALL BE QUIET AND LET WHUMPEE SPEAK!”

The mass fell silent at her voice and stared at Whumpee, who was suddenly regretting trying to stand out in this group. Not only was her group making her a little uncomfortable, but the other team also became quiet and was giving them weird looks.

“Uh… I think we should do a uhm… switch out, so half of the people start the scene, and the other half switches them out and ends the scene?”

Most of the people agreed, so Teammate One pulled up another chair, and started hollering at everyone to find a partner. Whumpee timidly stepped down and stood next to Caretaker.

“Hey, you okay?” Caretaker said, noticing Whumpee’s wide-eyed expression.

“Uh, yeah… it’s just a little loud. I’ll be okay…” She said, brushing her hair with her fingers

Whumpee was a little overwhelmed but decided to take her mind off that by trying to help Teammate One. In hindsight, that was not a good idea.

By the time they had finally figured out who was replacing who, they had 3 minutes left and no idea on what to do.

Whumpee almost lost her voice trying to explain the scene and get everyone to be quiet. Teammate One was standing next to her, screaming in her ear, which was not helping with the rising panic she was experiencing.

“Okay, I’m gonna explain this as quickly as I can! So seven people begin, seven people end, there will be three cops, three robbers, and a hostage.” Whumpee said.

“Who gets to be who?” Teammate Two called out.

Before Whumpee could reply, everyone started talking and trying to claim titles. There was 3 people battling to be the hostage. Someone screamed that Whumpee should be the hostage.

She didn’t get a chance to explain the scene, or at least her basic idea of it, before the timer ran and her group was sent up to go first.

Everyone all yelled out their ideas for some kind of plot of the scene and went up there. This was the knowledge Whumpee had:

- The first hostage was tied to a chair to start

- The police would run in and try to free the hostage

- Someone was having a dramatic character death (Probably the hostage)

- Everything was improv

Whumpee was the replacement hostage, so she was ending the scene. She was super shaky from all of the chaos and loud noises and yelling that had happened and was about to be thrown into a messy situation.

Teammate One’s clap signaled the switch out, and Whumpee ran into the corner the previous person was shoved in.

All of the cops were huddled on the other side of the room, (One of the robbers ‘killed’ a cop) and the group where Whumpee was was trying to get their attention.

Which resulted in a lot more yelling.

The ‘robber’ behind Whumpee was trying to figure out what was going on. Caretaker was knelt down next to them trying to tell them what to do. The ‘robber’ wasn’t doing what they had somewhat planned and it was freaking the both of them out.

Suddenly, someone called time and the scene was over. Whumpee could hardly stand, sitting in the corner for a few moments contemplating what had happened until someone had told her to get up, and she followed her group.

The next team went up, and gave this beautifully chaotic scene and it made her feel worse. Whumpee felt bad that she had wasted a perfect opportunity to make a good scene because they took forever coming up with partners. She wished she had kept her mouth shut and maybe things would’ve gone better.

The other team made comments on how their scene was unprepared and messy. That with the chaos she volunteered herself into… she was just shocked.

She stared at the floor, hands and legs shaking, heart racing, and a little traumatized and overwhelmed.

She didn’t notice Caretaker nudging her shoulder at the end of class.

“Whumpee? You zoned out again?” They said.

“H-Huh?” They jumped, “Yeah, no, I’m okay…”

She wobbly stood up to get her stuff, not noticing Caretaker following her close behind.

“Whumpee?”

She was focused on grabbing her bag.

“Whumpee!”

“Ah! What?” She jumped again.

“You’re shaking.” Caretaker took her wrist, feeling it rattle like a glass pane.

“I…I know…” Whumpee said. Her eyes filled with tears and her mouth felt suddenly dry.

“Hey…” Caretaker said, sitting her down for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

Whumpee just held herself shamefully in response.

“It’s about the scenes, isn’t it?”

Whumpee nodded, a tear falling onto her skirt.

“It wasn’t for a grade or anything, it was just for fun, you don’t need to get so worked up about it.”

“I-I know…” Whumpee finally spoke. “But it all happened so fast and there was all the yelling and no one was cooperating and seeing the other group’s skit made ours look like shit and-“

Caretaker held Whumpee for a moment in consolation. “You tried your best to get everything organized, it’s okay…” They said. “We’ll do better next time.”

Teammate One and Teammage Two walked by and saw a very upset Whumpee.

“Is she okay?!” Teammate Two panicked.

“She’s just overstimulated from that whole… mess of a scene.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry Whumpee!” Teammate Two went in for a hug.

“My yelling probably didn’t help it either…” Teammate One knelt down in front of them.

Whumpee just closed her eyes and took a few shaky breaths to attempt to calm down. She felt another pair of arms wrap around her shoulders.

“I don’t know why we’re hugging, but I’m joining in!” Friend said.

The bell rang and the other three let go. Caretaker stayed by Whumpee’s side.

“We have science together next, right?” They asked.

Whumpee wiped her face and nodded, re-claiming her bag.

“Come here, we’ll walk there together.”

Caretaker led a shaking Whumpee to their next class through the crowded halls.

(Ironic, they made Whumpee the ‘hostage’ ;))

Taglist: @whumpy-whump-fanfics @bookbutterfly9 @whumpdreamz @diamond-flavored-whump

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #tw anxiety attack #theatre Whump?#tw overstim #based on a true story

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