#and had a panic attack and went Fight Or Flight because of it

[braincake666]

Batman Beyond does not get the credit it deserves for how respectfully and realistically they portrayed a lot of the issues they touched on, especially for a show that came out in 2000.

Babel portrayed someone going deaf and resenting their reliance on hearing aids to fully perceive the world. Spellbound showed a high school counselor exploiting students by getting them hooked on drugs. The Winning Edge has a coach pushing his athletes into doing steroids because he only sees them as pawns for victory. In Disappearing Inque and Eggbaby the main antagonist was explicitly abusive toward their henchmen.

And don’t even get me started on THAT scene in Black Out that was a pretty obvious assault allegory. A depiction of an attractive woman restraining, kissing, and then physically forcing her body down the throat of a teenage boy, leaving him dry heaving and coughing up the liquid she left behind? Being shown as a horrific and disgusting and traumatic experience?! In THE YEAR TWO THOUSAND?!

[solarmorrigan]

It's Coming From Inside the House

For the @steddie-spooktober day 5 prompt: "Did you hear that?" Rated: T | Words: 2472 | CW: panic attack, mentions of recreational drug use | Tags: Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington friendship, pre-relationship, sorta, Eddie Munson being an asshole, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, he has the range, Steve Harrington has PTSD, post season 2, pre season 3 Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Now look, Eddie has never claimed to be the world’s nicest guy. He’s often claimed the opposite, in fact, in the name of getting shithead bullies and jocks to leave him and his alone.

And Harrington is no saint, either. Sure, he’s turned over some kind of new leaf since last year, ditching the assholes he used to hang out with and mostly keeping to himself (particularly since November, when his busted face had been the talk of Hawkins High), but he’s been part of enough sportsball-related hazing rituals for Eddie to assume he can at least take a joke.

Anyway, the point is, when he’s given occasion to realize that King Steve seems to be afraid of the dark, Eddie isn’t quite able to resist the urge to poke at him. Just a little.

He’s got Harrington in his trailer, just dropping by for a late-night transaction, and they’ve got an unexpected spring storm raging outside. It had just blown in, heavy winds and rain and all, surrounding the trailer with the sound of nature’s howling fury, and Harrington already seems on edge (probably why he needs the weed, really).

And then the lights flicker–

Flicker–

Flicker–

And cut out.

Both Eddie and Harrington freeze, plunged into darkness cut only by the frequent flashes of lightning.

“What just happened?” Harrington asks, his voice gone tight.

“Seems like the power went out,” Eddie snarks, because that much should be obvious. “Probably the wind. The grid isn’t as secure out here where it’s only us poor people.”

Harrington has no comeback, which is a little disappointing. He’s so quiet that the only way Eddie can tell he’s still there at all is because he can see him illuminated by brief lightning strikes.

Eddie sighs and starts shuffling in the direction of the kitchen. “Gimme a minute, I think we’ve got an old camping lantern somewhere.”

He bangs his knees on just about every object he walks past, swearing up a storm, but he finally makes it to the kitchen and feels around in the cabinets for the lantern he hopes is still there. He knocks over a few pots and pans in the process, but finally – success!

Eddie gropes for the switch on top of the lantern as he pulls it from the cabinet, praying that the battery inside is still good, and flinches and blinks the sparkles from his eyes when the thing lights up about six inches from his face.

Illumination acquired, Eddie uses it to find the junk drawer and pull out the flashlight they keep inside (might’ve been easier to find that first, instead of knocking into all the cookware, now that Eddie thinks on it), and then heads back to where he’s left Harrington standing in the living room.

“Let there be light,” he says, holding up the old lantern in victory.

Harrington, again, says nothing. He looks pale in the light of the lantern, nearly frozen where he stands, staring out the window. He almost reminds Eddie of a frightened rabbit, eyes wide and body locked up in a fight, flight, or freeze response heavily weighted in favor of the third option. And if he’s the rabbit, Eddie is like nothing so much as the wolf, ready to sink his teeth in.

Just a little. Just as a joke, that’s all.

As he places the camping lantern on the table, he pauses and cocks his head, pretending to listen.

“Hey,” he says quietly, and Harrington finally turns to look at him. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Harrington rasps, eyes darting back towards the window.

“I don’t know, it was… like sort of a scratching sound? It’s– There!” Eddie jumps, playing at being startled. “There it was again, did you hear it?”

Harrington swallows heavily, shaking his head. “I don’t hear anything, are you sure–”

“I think it’s coming from the door,” Eddie hisses, voice gone low, nearly covered by the steady roll of thunder.

Harrington whirls back around, looking at the shadowed shape of the door where it sits just outside the halo of light the little lantern is throwing out.

“What if something’s trying to get in?” Eddie’s practically whispering now, low and dramatic. “Should we– should we check?”

Slowly, Harrington nods. “I’ll check,” he says, and he sounds so resolute about it, so resigned, like he’s agreeing to go off to war, that Eddie has to bite down on a laugh. So fucking serious, this guy.

“I’m right behind you,” Eddie says, though Harrington barely seems to register when Eddie sidles up at his back.

They cross from where they’d been standing by the coffee table and over to the door, standing in front of it as another crack of thunder booms overhead. Harrington reaches for the handle.

“Go ahead,” Eddie breathes, raising his arms. “I’m… right… BEHIND YOU!”

As he shouts, he grabs Harrington around the middle, digging his fingers into his sides almost like he’s trying to tickle him, and holy shit, Harrington’s reaction does not disappoint. He jumps and jerks like he’s just been electrocuted, letting out a strangled yell as he pulls away from Eddie, whirling around to face him, and Eddie can’t help it– he laughs.

Like, not a cruel laugh, just the laugh of a prank successfully pulled off.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for that!” he wheezes out around his giggles.

And Eddie isn’t fully ignorant to the idea that there are consequences for his actions; he’s pretty sure at this point Harrington is going to start yelling, maybe start swinging, almost definitely cussing Eddie out – except he doesn’t.

He doesn’t actually do anything. He’s just standing there, eyes blown wide, one hand clenched over his chest while he almost heaves for breath.

“…Harrington?” Eddie tries, as his laughter dies away. “Hey. You good?”

Harrington doesn’t reply. Eddie’s not even sure he’s seeing him right now; his gaze looks glassed over in the low light, staring at something in the middle distance that Eddie can’t see. It’s kind of freaking Eddie out.

“Harrington. Hey. Can you hear me?” Eddie reaches up to wave a hand in front of Harrington’s face, and the reaction is immediate.

He jumps again, swearing and stumbling backwards until he hits the wall by the door with a hard thump, where he slides down into a sitting position on the floor, knees pulled up in front of him and arms wrapped around his middle. He’s still breathing hard, and his eyes are darting around the trailer, still looking for something, but fucked if Eddie knows what.

And fuck. Shit, Eddie feels like an asshole, he’s just given Harrington some kind of full-blown panic attack. Shit.

“Harrington,” he says, trying to sound firm and reassuring even though he has no goddamn idea what he’s doing as he crouches down in front of the guy. “Listen, there’s nothing to be scared of, man, it was just me being a dick.”

Harrington’s eyes flick in Eddie’s direction, but Eddie’s not all that convinced he’s registering what Eddie’s saying.

“Okay, I’m gonna – just a second.” Eddie holds a finger up and stands again, darting over to the coffee table to grab the lantern and, almost as an afterthought, the flashlight. “Okay, here we go,” he says, kneeling in front of Harrington and placing the lantern between them. “Do you wanna hold the flashlight? Would that help?”

He’s barely held the flashlight up for Harrington to take when the other boy’s fingers are wrapping around it, nearly jerking it out of Eddie’s hand. He flicks it on and sweeps the beam around the room, nearly blinding Eddie at least twice in the process.

“See?” Eddie says once Harrington’s performed as much of an inspection of the place as he can from his position on the floor. “Nothing here. Just you, me, and the storm.”

This doesn’t seem to be as reassuring as Eddie would have hoped; Harrington is still on the hysterical edge of hyperventilating, flashlight clutched in one fist and the other hand clenching his jacket where it’s still wrapped around his middle.

“Harrington. Steve,” Eddie tries, and he finally gets a long enough look from Harrington that he thinks he must actually be hearing him. “You’ve gotta breathe, man. Deeper breaths, c’mon. I don’t want you passing out on me.”

And it looks like maybe he’s trying, but the air keeps stuttering back out of his lungs before he can hold it for long. He shakes his head, and Eddie bites his lip, thinking.

“Here. I’m just gonna– don’t freak out again, okay?” Slowly, Eddie reaches for Harrington’s free hand, and with an air of confusion, Harrington lets him take it, unwrapping his fingers from where they’re clutched in his jacket and letting Eddie pull until his palm is pressed flat against Eddie’s chest. “Copy me, okay? In… and out.”

Exaggerating his breaths, Eddie takes big gulps of air, in and out, and waits for Harrington to follow suit – and after a few long moments, he manages it.

Slowly, his breathing deepens out, no longer coming in quick, shallow gasps, and his posture seems to deflate as it does. He sags back against the wall, the flashlight still clutched tight in his fist, and lets his head fall back.

“Better?” Eddie asks.

Harrington shrugs. He flinches at the next flash of lighting, and Eddie squeezes his hand, which he is, for some reason, still holding.

“Just the storm,” Eddie says, and Harrington shoots him a vaguely bitchy look that feels a lot more on par with how he should be acting.

He doesn’t take his hand back, though, so Eddie just keeps holding it.

He holds it and he talks, trying to drown out the rumbles of thunder that are growing more and more distant, trying to distract from the flashes of lightning that seem to be distressing Harrington more than anything else, trying to make up for the fact that he’d caused this whole mess in the first place. And Harrington seems to listen, watching him with eyes half-lidded in exhaustion, even cracking a tiny smile a few times, when Eddie gets particularly animated.

Then, after about an hour of nothing but the warm glow of the camping lantern, nothing but the sound of Eddie’s voice and the dying storm, the power kicks back on. The lights come to life and the fridge starts humming from the kitchen, and Harrington squeezes Eddie’s hand hard, eyes falling shut for a moment in apparent divine gratitude.

“Oh, thank god,” he mutters, and Eddie can’t help but agree.

Slowly, he lets go of Harrington’s hand, and Harrington takes it back, awkwardly handing over the flashlight as if in trade. He stands from the floor, a little shaky, and Eddie follows suit, ready to catch him if his overtaxed body doesn’t prove to be up to the task, but Harrington manages to stand on his own two feet, so Eddie takes a step back.

“Uh… thanks. For all of that,” Harrington says quietly, voice a little wrecked.

Eddie shakes his head. “I’m the one who gave you a fucking panic attack in the first place. Sitting with you was literally the least I could do.”

Harrington shrugs. “You didn’t have to, though.”

“Common decency—and my conscience—beg to differ,” Eddie says, and Harrington lets out a little huff that might have been a laugh.

“Anyway, I should get out of your hair,” Harrington says. “Do you still have the, uh–”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Eddie had nearly forgotten why Harrington had come over there in the first place. He crosses back over to the coffee table, where he’d dropped the bag when the power had gone out, and snatches it up, offering it to Harrington. “Here you are, my liege.”

The title, caught somewhere between mocking and actual friendliness, makes Harrington huff out another laugh, and he reaches for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

Eddie almost can’t believe he’s about to say it, but– “Don’t worry about it. This one’s on the house.”

He’ll eat the cost if it’ll assuage his guilt – if it’ll get the image of Harrington crumpled on the floor, gasping for air as he searches the room for some kind of threat, out of Eddie’s head.

Harrington frowns. “You don’t have to do that.”

Eddie shrugs. “Call it even for having given you all the more reason to need to smoke it.”

Harrington is still frowning, hand still poised to pull his wallet from his back pocket, so Eddie shoves the baggie into his free hand, closing his fingers around it and letting go.

“Looks like it’s in your hands now, no takebacks!” Eddie insists. “Or, you know, no givebacks, I guess.”

Harrington rolls his eyes, but he drops his hand and tucks the baggie into the pocket of his jacket. “Well, thanks, then. I think.”

Eddie nods, searching over Harrington’s face; he’s still pale as shit, and it makes the dark circles under his eyes, previously barely noticeable, stand out in stark relief. He looks like he’s almost swaying where he stands, and Eddie frowns.

“You gonna be good to drive?” he asks, not really sure what he plans to do if Harrington isn’t.

“I think I’ll be fine, man,” Harrington snarks, and it’s close enough to what Eddie’s used to hearing from him that he’s willing to let the matter drop.

Harrington turns for the door, but pauses just before he reaches for the handle. Eddie wonders if maybe he’s still thinking of Eddie’s stupid prank, unable to shake the idea that something really might be waiting at the door to get him, when Harrington turns back to look at him.

“Don’t mention this to anyone, okay?” he says, possibly going for demanding, maybe even threatening, but landing somewhere closer to a plea. “I don’t need– I just don’t need anyone knowing…”

“Mum’s the word, man,” Eddie assures him quickly, miming zipping up his lips, locking them, and tossing the key over his shoulder.

With a tiny smile crossing his face, Harrington nods. “Thanks. I’ll, uh – see you around, I guess.”

“Yeah. See you around.” Eddie nods.

And with that, Harrington is gone, out the door and crunching across the wet gravel to his car, taking the strangeness of the night with him.

Eddie stands in the middle of his living room for a long moment, feeling as though something about his view of Steve Harrington—possibly even his view of something larger—has shifted, though he can’t quite put his finger on how.

He puzzles it over for a bit before shrugging it off, stooping to grab the lantern and put it back where it belongs. It doesn’t really matter, he figures. It’s not like he and Harrington will have much reason to interact after this.

[tigersharkapologist]

Caracalla was, understandably, simply having a mental attack because the people were calling for their heads—but I like the little detail that Caracalla literally cannot think of one bad thing his brother did to him other than “trying to strangle him in the womb” lol. Which implies that Geta was that good of a brother to him.

_______________________________________________

bonus because I think there’s way more to it than just being Ha Ha Funny Gag to Lighten Tension and because I have a hyperanalyzation for hyperfixations problem:

TW: mentions of physical and emotional abuse, child abuse, bullying and murder

That or the darker undertone being that he cannot remember anything bad Geta did because of his memory loss from neurosyphilis (a disease that can cause memory loss). Which also implies that he probably doesn’t remember any of the crude specifics of the abuse they had to undergo in their childhood—only how it made him feel. Which is why, if you look really closely at his facial expressions during his episode, he hesitated only a little at the mention of that, but still didn’t falter entirely.

An even darker undertone being that he was experiencing so much of a specific kind of stress that his brain assumed it was being attacked by the same assailant that he had dealt with as a kid, Septimius Severus. So much so that it went into fight or flight. Caracalla was shouting “you lie!! You always lie!!” at his brother. From what we can tell with the little screentime we got of them, Geta has never shown to have any malicious intentions towards his brother, he had quite the opposite actually. He never lied to him. Like ever. But you know who probably DID lie to them constantly?

Their. Despicable. Sleazebag. Narcissistic. No show. Parents.

What if the neurosyphilis combined with the onslaught of the immense stress he was experiencing (so much so that it threw him into a fight response) made him believe Geta was Septimius? Think about it. Caracalla is under the full influence of an injured brain, and that same brain is being influenced by a hyper aggressive disease; neurosyphilis. What if he was so affected by the lies told to him in his childhood, that the minute he figures out something is a lie, or suspects of lying, it causes him to snap. Look at how he got with Acacius when he found out that his loyalty was basically a lie.

Lies cause him that much stress, they have to be connected with abuse. Look at him!! Lies are definitely his PTSD trigger.

Roping it back to Geta’s death. ,, Caracalla’s amnesia and panic response from his PTSD very well could have made him confuse Geta with their father. Though not all, it is not unheard of that survivors of immense physical abuse (in Caracalla’s case—being constantly punched and beaten up by a grown man when he was like?? 10??) attack someone close who they’ve confused with their abuser when an episode strikes. (keep in mind these are rarer cases but Caracalla is a rare and extreme case himself). It could be a huge possibility that Caracalla mistook Geta as their father and, he (understandably sick of Geta standing in between his father and taking those blows for him) decided to take his father head on and strike back—ultimately killing who his brain confused as Septimius. Another reason I believe this is because he literally reverted back to childlike tendencies and hid under the table when he felt this stress. Trembling, crying, whimpering, a very sore sight. It was as if he was taken back to the time where he felt this kind of fear before-- because that's literally what happened. I genuinely do not think Caracalla would ever kill Geta, his brother, his closest and only real friend. Even if he wasn’t in his right mind. Those two have lived through hell together, those trauma bonds are the strongest bonds Ive ever seen. They could fight, they could get real disgusting towards eachother, but I know nothing could break that sibling trauma bond, and I speak from experience. You could hate that man but he will always be your ride or die. Geta and Caracalla were TIGHT. He had to have confused him with his father during his PTSD episode. I highly doubt thats what the directors were going for but UHH idc lol that's what aus are for.

I want to know more about Septimius Severus. Was it just beating up his kids? I'm not undermining the grotesqueness of those actions, I want to know what else he did. It was clear he was a liar, it was clear he was a physically abusive "father” (he doesn't even deserve that title), but if it was so easy for him to hit his kids, than that opens up a whole new possibility of things he did. Like if it was so easy for him to punch a child, what else was easy for him? Did he refuse to feed them? Did he refuse to give them any gifts or luxuries? Is that why the twins are overindulgent to the point they suffer from it? Did he lock them out of the house to freeze in order to assert dominance? Did he publicly shame them as punishment? Did he shame them for the way they looked? How they were an embarrassment to the family name because of their appearance being too similar to the barbaric northern tribes they were conquering? Were plates thrown at them? Were they bullied by other children in their age group for having unloving parents? Did anyone worry for them? Did any bystander care? Did anyone ever intervene? Did they cower in fear of facing that same wrath that those children were forced to endure? What was the twins reaction to the death of their father? Were they overjoyed? Were they hollow? Were they, in a twist, mournful? Did they ever have real friends? Like friends that they didn't need to change themselves to feel accepted?

_____________________________________________

To pivot off that last sentence (not really related to the main point at all but I NEED to say it),

I don’t think so on that last one. I think they had to change themselves entirely and put on this fake persona in fear of being disliked. They did everything to follow the Patrician crowd, everything that made their lives even worse. And I bet you they thought they were making friends.

Nah. They were making temporary fragile alliances. For every 10 “friends” they’d make, 1000 enemies would be formed. And I bet you further that the Patrician didn’t respect them at all. Those blue bloods know when there’s blood in the water and they know that the two changed and rewired themselves just for acceptance. In their eyes, Caracalla and Geta are weak emperors (unfortunately they are. Conquesting counts do not equal to strength in oneself); easily replaced. And if Macrinus was thinking it, you can count on the rest of them, too. Remember in that deleted scene where Caracalla forgot he killed his brother? EVERYBODY knew about the murder but him and NOBODY batted an eye. Either they were scared of Macrinus (which I doubt they even knew he was apart of said murder) or they DEAD AHH DID NOT CARE ABOUT GETA LIKE AT ALL. THEY DIDNT LOOK EVEN SLIGHTLY UNCOMFORTABLE BRO 😭🙏. It was the SENATORS. SENATORS. That looked shocked. They weren’t even going to say “ave Dondas” out of pure shock until Macrinus said it first to pressure them.

Enough of my prattling. In conclusion, Caracalla is so far off the deep end he literally thought his own brother was his father DURING the height of his episode let me be clear (which isnt really the biggest stretch to be dead honest—it’s caracalla bless him my poor baby), is pretty much permanently ruined and scarred because nobody is going to help him—no one cared enough, and he is never EVER going to live a normal happy life. Geta tried so, so very hard to give him that, but in the end, the two were born hated, born broken, and the world reminded them that until both of their untimely ends.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any headcanons for the bots' fears/phobias? Specifically TFP

The only one I have is that Bumblebee is, ironically, afraid of bees for no reason other than I thought it would be funny. I'd like to hear your takes!

Hmm I think their fears would go something like this:

Arcee: Terrified of blood.

She's seen too much energon over the course of her long life. Watching so many good mecha die and losing both her partners has left her with a strange apathy to energon. She's grown used to it. But blood? Human blood is vibrant and so different and yet so similar. When she sees blood, it ignites old horrors and memories she's long tried to suppress. Her servos shake when one of the children ends up getting a cut large enough for her to notice. It's all too similar for her to handle.

Bulkhead: Afraid of Deep Water

Bulkhead is a big mech, one lacking in serious dexterity. He's a combat and manual labor unit and he knows it. When he was young, he fell into a solvent pool, and while unharmed, he was so heavy that he couldn't get out on his own. He was trapped there for almost a whole cycle, and now that he knows what lurks in Earth's waters, he's terrified of falling in and possibly being crushed to death by either the pressure or something that lurks in the deep. He hasn't fallen in any deep water yet, but he's terrified that it may happen and much prefers the desert.

Bumblebee: Scared of Being Alone

The fear of being alone stemmed all the way back from Bumblebee's sparklinghood. Growing up in a time of war meant that he was often left to his own devices cooped up in a base or safehouse while the grown mechs went off to war. He came to despise being left alone, and so joined the war effort both to help and to be with them. The fear of being alone only grew after he lost his voice to Megatron. When he's alone, he sometimes hears the Warlord taunting him. This can lead him to spiral badly, and so he relies heavily on others for support. This is part of the reason he bonded so well with the children.

Ratchet: Paranoid of Biological Agents

Being a Doctor, Ratchet has seen many things. Not a lot bothers him anymore, save for scraplets. But in his mind, that's not even a fear. It's common sense. But with that said, the Cybonic plague awoke in Ratchet a fear he'd never realized lurked within him. After that great plague, he now fears biological agents above all else. Not necessarily germs, but anything that could become a weapon of war. Contaminated items especially. In that regard, he is an increadible germaphobe when it comes to his supplies and will grow frantic if anything is brought into his medical bay that reeks of disease.

Ultra Magnus: Fear of the Dark

Being inside the Magnus armor means that Ultra Magnus, or perhaps Minimus, is entirely reliant on the armor's optical systems to see. The fear of the dark developed the first time he lost his sight and was completely incapable of maneuvering the armor, effectively leaving him open to any and all attacks since he couldn't use his personal field or even his senses to navigate. He has told no one about his fear, but when the lights go out, he often panics and instinctually enters a state of fight or flight out of a pure primal fear that something may harm him even within his armor. The team doesn't understand. Only Optimus knows why Ultra Magnus goes to recharge with a nightlight.

Smokescreen: Frightened by Fires

Smokescreen's fear stems from his time in the Archive. It is a new fear, one he has not fully realized. But seeing Iacon burning and the Archive coming down around him, destroying the home he'd known for so long... it changed him. At the time he was too busy being enthralled in the thrill of potential battle to care. But now, whenever he sees fire in close proximity, he automatically flies into a combat position, often lashing out at the first thing that moves simply because he associates fire with foes. Anything greater than a candle unsettles him.

Wheeljack: Unsettled by Connections

He doesn't talk about it. Ever. However, from what Bulkhead knows, Wheeljack got very attached to his ragtag family back when he was young and promptly lost them all one at a time. He tried to get attached to fellow workers before the war, but every connection fell through. Now he doesn't bother and actively flees anything that could feel like it weighs him down. He's scared of caring enough to actually cry when someone dies. Bulkhead is a rare exception to his rule of no connection, and it is simply because Bulkhead has lasted this long and all but demanded friendship.

Optimus: Petrified of Being Lost

The fear began when he was still Orion Pax. At the time, he got lost almost every time he travelled, and often, he ended up in frightening back alleys and dangerous situations. The fear evolved after he became Prime and now Optimus does not fear being lost in his journeys. Rather, he fears becoming lost within the grasp of the Matrix and the madness of war. It is such a real fear that often, Optimus will throw himself into days long studies after patrols, reviewing everything he knows about Cybertron and the corruption of the Council just so he can reaffirm who he is.

Just so he won't lose himself to the tempting thought of letting go of his morality.

[soursturniolo]

Hurtful Words • Nick Sturniolo

Synopsis: Nick and his boyfriend get into a fight the night before leaving for Boston. After some of the harsh words from Nick, his boyfriend is left hurt and uncertain of his place in his boyfriends life.

Pairing: Nick x male reader/character (no y/n but also no other name used, he/him pronouns)

Tags: angst, hurt, a bit of sunshine!reader x grumpy!nick, nick has a panic attack, comfort (happy ending because I guess I'm not 100% evil yet)

Nick had been extremely stressed all day. Nothing was going right, first he woke up late and missed his meeting. Then, he went to edit a video they had prefilmed to post while him, his brothers, and his boyfriend would be in Boston, just to discover the SD card was corrupted and nothing could be salvaged from it. Next, he developed a horrible headache as he was rushing to finish up packing for the flight tomorrow morning. Now, he was getting ready to film a replacement video with his brothers right as his cheerful boyfriend strode into his bedroom. Fuck , Nick thought to himself. He had forgotten his boyfriend was coming this early.

“Hey!” his boyfriend smiled as he made his way over to him, arms open for the usual hug they’d share. Most always, his boyfriends sunny disposition made him smile, but today it just made him irrationally angry.

“Hi,” Nick responds flatly, not meeting his partners eyes as he dodged the hug and affection being offered. If Nick had been looking up he would have seen the look of confusion and concern flash across the other man’s face as his arms lowered to the side upon seeing that Nick clearly didn’t want a hug.

The other man frowns as he takes in Nick’s disheveled appearance, hair sticking up from most likely stressful tugging, a clenched jaw and tense shoulders. Knowing Nick for almost a year now, he knows his boyfriend isn’t one to immediately talk out his feelings, so he doesn’t ask but quickly concludes it must have been quite a rough day for the brunette. Usually in these situations, they’ll cuddle and relax and watch some stupid TV show, so that’s what the man suggests. To which, Nick scoffs.

“I don’t have time to just lay around with you, I need to go do my job, I have so much shit I need to do before tomorrow,” Nick gripes, moving around to grab the camera and SD cards off his desk, stuffing them into a bag to take to the car where he’s sure his brothers are already waiting for him. In packing he’d lost track of time, looking at his phone to see its already 17 minutes past the time they said they’d meet in the garage.

His boyfriend nods in understanding, seeing the obvious stress practically pouring out of every pore of his boyfriend. He reaches out a hand, gently touching Nick’s arm, trying his best to sooth him.

“is there anything I can do to help?” he asks softly.

“Jesus Christ!” Nick exclaims, feeling overwhelmed by everything all at once, like his skin is on fire and every little thing makes his head pound even harder, yaking his arm away from the other man’s touch “yknow what actually, there is. Just leave me the fuck alone for two seconds!”

The man frowns slightly, taking a step back at Nick’s sudden outburst, wrapping his own arms around him, head cooking to the side minutely.

“we’ve been apart all day? I’m just trying to help, I’m sorry sweetheart,” he says softly, trying to give him a soft smile, which just makes Nick scoff and roll his eyes again. A deep frown paints his boyfriends face at the reaction, the man tightening his arms around himself, shoulders hunching in slightly.

“And you come in here all fucking smiles and hugs. you’re just happy all the fucking time. Just this fucking ray of sunshine. Some of us fucking aren’t. Maybe this just wasn’t a good idea.” Nick spits out, his words venom. Part of his brain is yelling at him to shut up seeing the hurt look spreading over his boyfriends face, but the angry voice overshadows that one, just wanting everyone to feel has horrible as he feels.

“What? What isn’t a good idea?” the man asks him, voice small, fearing the answer. Did Nick mean him coming to Boston along with his brothers to finally meet his parents? While he had been nervous about meeting his boyfriends parents at first, in the past few days he had become quite excited. Thinking of meeting his family, his family dog too. He had bought gifts for them all, even a chew toy for Trevor. Even today, the young man had found himself daydreaming at work, thinking of how well it all might go, imagining them all sitting around a table looking at photo albums and smiling as he learns more about the past of the man he so desperately wants a future with.

Nicks quick response has those hopes shattering, along with his heart.

“This. Us. I don’t know. I just need to fucking breathe. I’m leaving to film with Chris and Matt. Bye.” Nick half yells, voice strained as he stalks his way to the door, yanking it open and slamming it shut as he leaves, leaving a tearful man standing in the middle of the room wondering where it all went so wrong.

Nick was distracted the whole entire time they were filming, overcome with guilt and regret. He had been so harsh to his boyfriend, his number one supporter, next to his family of course. Flashes of the other man’s hurt face flicker in his mind, the timid and soft nature he had taken on as Nick raged at him, a shadow of the mans usually bright and bubbly demeanor. Even when he was short with him at first, instead of just leaving, his sweet boyfriend had still apologized and compassionately offered help. And what did Nick do to show his appreciation? Told him callously that maybe them dating had been a bad idea.

That wasn’t true in the slightest. They’d been together 7 months at this point, and it had been some of the happiest months of Nick’s life. He’d experienced a happiness that he never thought he’d get even remotely close to again, and this was how he repaid the man? Throwing his cheerful and sweet nature in his face as if it was something to be ashamed of? It made him sick to his stomach to recall how he’d behaved.

Noticing their brothers distraction, Matt and Chris suggested cutting the video short, under the guise of wanting to get on good nights sleep before their early flight home. The drive home was quick and quiet as Nick thought of all the ways he’d apologize to his sweet boyfriend who had a heart almost too good to be true.

The brothers quickly said goodnight and parted ways, Nick taking the stairs two at a time to get to his room so he could ask for the man’s forgiveness. Upon opening the door, he’s met with disappointment. He had left. Nick knew he shouldn’t be surprised though. As he pulls out his phone to call the man he knew he had hurt, a bag on his bed catches his eye, along with a note. He peaks in the bag, confused upon seeing four boxes wrapped in a plain purple wrapping paper, as he picks up the letter, recognizing the handwriting and feeling his heart clench painfully in his chest as he begins to read.

Nick,

I’m sorry, I never meant to upset you. I know I can be a lot, and I understand if it’s gotten too much to deal with. I was really looking forward to seeing Boston and meeting your family. But it’d be silly for me to tag along now, at this point. I had gotten some things for your parents, Justin, and Trevor. I was hoping you’d maybe give them to them for me?

Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back for my plane ticket if it’s too late to cancel it.

Thank you for the last 7 months, they meant the world to me. You did, too.

Nick feels tears gather in his eyes, beginning to stream down his face as he sits the letter down and quickly scrolls to his contact on his phone.

"please, pick up, pick up, pick up" he mutters, sniffling as he waits and hopes he'll answer. A shred of hope blooms upon hearing his call answered answer, the soft noise of a car engine in the back. Good, maybe his boyfriend hadn't made it home yet.

"baby?" Nick sniffles slightly, voice cracking. He hears the man on the other end of the line sniffle too, and he feels his heart crack a little more. he'd made his sweetheart cry.

"what do you need, nick?" the other man asks softly and tearfully.

"I need you. please turn around, I know you’re still in the car. I'm so sorry," Nick pleads.

"it's okay Nick," he sniffles, "just give those gifts to them, please?" he asks.

"no, I'm not," Nick cries, tears streaming down his face, one hand clutching his hair as the other clutches his phone against his ear, sagging against the wall and sliding down it into a heap on the floor, his chest feeling tighter and tighter.

"okay, I'll get them back from you when you guys get back home," he offers, which just makes Nick cry harder. He really fucked up this time.

"no, no you're supposed to give them to them, I want you to, I want you to turn around and come back here so I can tell you how fucking sorry I am and kiss you and watch a stupid movie with you and then we get up and we go to Boston tomorrow morning and you get to meet my family and see where I'm from and everything and they'll love you and your little gifts and your smile that can light up a room and they'll love you because I love you," he pleads over the phone, desolving into sobs on the phone.

the other man on the line tears up again at the sweet words and obvious remorse, and he wants to respond to them but Nick is spiraling in regret and sadness and he can hear that it's getting harder for him to breathe through his cries.

he turns the car around, beginning to take a shortcut back to the triplets house.

"Nick, I need you to breathe," the man says softly, hearing the loud cries through the speakers of his car.

"No, I'm not Nick, you never call me nick when we're alone, its always Nicky or sweetheart or babe," the brunette sobs, still feeling like his relationship is slipping through his fingers, and it's his own fault.

The man grips his steering wheel a little tighter, driving a little faster.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I just need you to breathe for me, in your nose and out your mouth real slow for me okay? you know that box breathing technique I showed matt a few months ago?" he softly asks Nick.

"Yeah," Nick sniffles, breathing still shaking and disordered.

"Good baby, I'm going to count and I want you to breathe with me okay? I'm almost there but I need you to breathe for me until I get there, okay?" He asks softly.

As he continues to drive, he counts off and listens as Nick breathes with him, slight sniffles still present as he tries to focus on getting his breathing regulated with the knowledge that his boyfriend is coming back.

Nick doesn't even register the sound of his boyfriends car turning off or the sound of him using his house key to get in. his head jerks up to look up from his spot on the floor to see his boyfriend standing in his doorway. He quickly moves from his position on the floor, getting up and launching himself into his boyfriends arms.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean a fucking word I said," he sobs, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend tightly and burrowing his head into his neck, his tears wetting the skin. His boyfriend holds him just as snuggly in his arms, rubbing a soothing hand over his back as the other hand cups the back of his head softly.

"I know, its alright," the man sooths, but the words have an opposite affect on Nick, as the brunette pulls back quickly as he shakes his head.

"It's not alright! I was mean because I had a bad day and my head fucking hurts, and I hurt you. You didn't deserve that. I love you, and I love your personality and how loving and happy you are. It isnt something I or anyone should throw in your face. I should have talked to you, I should have thanked you for wanting to help me. I'm so sorry, ill be better, I'll get better at talking to you and communicating and not just blowing up at you for no reason," Nick sniffles, roughly wiping away his own tears.

"Okay, I forgive you," the other man offers softly, as he gently pulls Nick's hands away from the rough rubbing of his face.

"No! You shouldn't just forgive me, why are you being so nice right now?" Nick objects, confused by his boyfriends behavior as more tears make their way down his face.

The other man smiles softly and sadly, guiding his boyfriend over to the bed and sitting, pulling Nick down to sit right next to him. He gently guides Nicks head to rest on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around the man in a comforting embrace that Nick easily allows himself to be pulled into, the closeness easing the pain and regret in his heart.

"Let me ask you a couple things, okay? Maybe that'll help you understand why I'm forgiving you?" he offers, carding his fingers though Nick's hair softly, as he feels Nick nod and whisper is consent into his shoulder.

"Do you genuinely regret how you treated me?" A quick and firm nod from Nick.

"Do you see how hurtful your misplaced irritation can be?" Another firm nod and squeeze from Nick's arms around him is felt.

"Do you genuinely plan on working on communicating with me and being better in the future so this doesn't happen again?" Another nod and squeeze.

"Do you still love me and want to be with me, and want me to come to Boston with you?" This receives the fastest nod and squeeze of all the questions, making the man smile and turn to press a soft kiss to Nick's head.

"See. You acknowledged and took ownership of what you did wrong, you plan to work on being better, and I know you're genuinely sorry and regret hurting me the way you did. I trust you, so I trust what you say and the fact that this will not happen again. We will deal better the next time," he explains softly to the man in his arms.

"Okay. I promise I'll do better, I love you," Nick hoarsely whispers against his shoulder, cuddling more into the other man's side.

"I know, I love you too," Nick smiles wobbly as he hears those words and feels another kiss pressed against his head. He leans up, softly pressing his lips against the man's jaw, then his cheek, then thr corner of his mouth, smiling when we feels the skin move under his lips into a matching smile. Then, Nick presses their lips together in a soft and gentle kiss, trying to convey all the love and warmth he feels for the man in his embrace. His own ray of sunshine.

author's note: hey! i hope yall enjoyed! if you have any nick requests feel free to send em my way! im slowly but surely getting back into writing and i really want to write more for nick :)

no tag list on this post because I'm getting ready to redo my old tag list since most either aren't active anymore or have new usernames

[skysole]

Parry Headcanons

They started dating in freshman year and only broke up a few months before the story takes place

Paul would invite Darry over and they'd lay on the floor in his bedroom and mention marrying each other one day

As soon as the news of the Curtis parents dying reached him, Paul booked a flight and went home to Tulsa from college to make sure Darry was okay

They broke up when Darry realized he couldn't be a boyfriend father and brother and had to end things

They both cried that night and yelled at each other

But Paul still showed up at the funeral

And eight months later he dropped out of college and returned because he realized his heart was with Darry not school

He tried to make amends but he couldn't bring himself to go to his house after never calling

So instead he jumps Darry's kid brother knowing Darry will show up

And he does but Paul panics and runs away

During the rumble he doesn't want to fight Darry but he would rather fight him and let him win than let someone beat Darry up

He throws the first punch when Darry looks away because he can't look into his eyes while hitting him

Because it's raining Darry doesn't notice Paul is crying paul doesnt notice darry is too

Paul is actually the last soc to leave the lot because he just stands there watching Darry go to the same kid brother Paul had beat up just a week before out of heartbreak

After the rumble a girl says a greaser was shot and killed and Paul had a panic attack thinking it was Darry and all he can think is he never got to apologize or say goodbye

He does actually go to Darry's to check on him and Darry tells him to go to hell and that he hates him

And later that night Paul actually cries himself to sleep so does darry because that was his last chance to make things right

They don't actually hate each other they just think the others hates him

Paul ends up leaving Tulsa for good because everywhere he looks he sees Darry

And Darry finds out when he finds a ring Paul had given him when whispering they would one day get married and he goes to give it back he said it was for closure or to hurt paul but really he just missed his face but Paul wasn't there

A soc tells him that Paul moved away a month ago

And Darry spends the entire day looking all over town for Paul before accepting it

They never actually see each other again but sometimes at night they have "nightmares" about their time together

Paul marries a girl that reminds him of Darry and sometimes almost says his name even so many years later because he will always be Darry's

And Darry never dates again because he will always be Paul's and no one makes him feel the way Paul made him feel

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hey,

could you please write a one-shot,where Hannibal is obsessively in love with an FBI teacher, who is similar to Will. She doesn‘t want to go in the field, because of some trauma and Hannibal needs to help her overcome it, in order for her to be ready.(nsfw?)

Hannibal x Reader: Exposure Therapy

Warning: trauma, smut, p in v (penetration), quickie, kissing, fluff, no use of y/n, female anatomy, not proofread.

Word count: 1,2 k

“I can’t do it.”

“Yes you can. Push me off.”

Hannibals has his body on top of yours. He’s straddling you, his body weight keeping you stuck to the ground. You can feel the panic starting to get to you. Your chest heaves as your breathing starts to pick up. You squirm beneath him trying to get away. Hannibal can see this is starting to be too much for you but he needs to prove to you that you can do this.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Your panicked eyes find him. Even if this is just pretending your body is already in fight or flight mode so the sight of  his eyes doesn't calm you down like it usually does.

“You can do this. Remember to focus on your breathing and use the things the FBI taught you.”

You’d come into his office a couple of months ago. You’d been called to help out on the field but it proved to be a more difficult challenge then you had anticipated. You’d had a panic attack on a crime scene and Jack had thought it was best if you had some sort of support. That's when Dr. Lecter stepped in.  In your weekly sessions you and Hannibal tried to work through your issues. You’d told him that when you were younger you’d been caught off guard by a robber. The man had grabbed you and forced you into the ground. You’d been too scared to move and even though the situation hadn’t escalated farther than just a robbery you still woke up in a cold sweat at night. 

You could feel the pressure of the man's body on yours as you lay still on the ground. Before that day you hadn't been afraid of anything but ever since then every small sound made you jump. It had taken months of work to get you confident enough to step onto another crime scene but there was still room for improvement. You’d been training self defense with the FBI but when it came to defending yourself in real life you still froze up. That's how you found yourself in your current situation. 

Hannibal wanted to test out what you’d learned so he could help you stop freezing up when you were in danger. He’d thought it would be a good idea if he was the one to test you because you’d grown comfortable around him. You knew he wouldn’t actually hurt you so it would make things less stressful. Or so you’d thought. 

You focus on your breathing trying to calm your heart down. Once you manage to steady yourself you open your eyes. Hannibal watches your features shift into a small snarl. You take a deep breath in before you start moving. Hannibal tries his best to keep you beneath him and you put up a good fight. He’d told you to be as rough as you needed to and that was what you were doing. When you saw he wasn’t going to let up you shifted, freeing your hand from beneath him. Hannibal let out a groan, his hands moving to cup his nose. You’d just punched him. Some of his weight was lifted off you causing you to be able to move. You grabbed his shoulders, shoving them to the side with all your might. Hannibal felt his body tip over, his back moving in contact with the ground. You straddled him, your hand moving to grab your gun. Hannibal looked  up at you as you pointed your gun at him.

“Stay down.”

Your chest heaved as you kept your gun pointed at Hannibal. He removed his hand from his nose allowing you to see the grin that was plastered on his face. The sight made you relax a bit. You moved to place your gun back in your holster. Once you had made sure the safety was on you went to get off Hannibal. You began to move your leg up when Hannibal grabbed your waist. You looked down at him.

“You okay?”

“My nose is throbbing.”

“Sorry about that.”

“You could kiss it better.”

You laughed at Hannibal, leaning down to place a kiss to the tip of his nose. He lifted his head a bit allowing your lips to come in contact with his mouth instead of his nose. You smiled against his lips. 

During your sessions you and Hannibal had realized the two of you were harboring feelings for each other. In the last few weeks you’d started taking things to another level. You weren’t dating or anything but you had grown quite intimate.

“You looked hot.”

“Oh yeah?”

Hannibal leaned up to rest on his elbows. His lips move to latch onto your neck. You groaned as he continued to suck at your skin. Your hands moved to grab onto his head, fingers playing with his hair. You could feel Hannibal growing hard beneath you and as much as you wanted to give in you knew he had a client coming soon.

“Hannibal.”

“Yes dear?”

“You have another session soon.”

Hannibal gazed at the clock.

“I still have thirty minutes.”

“We can’t do anything in thirty minutes Hanni.”

“Are you doubting my skills?”

You placed a kiss to his lips, feeling his hand begin to grip the flesh of your ass. He lifted his hips up bucking into you.

“Fine. But be quick.”

A smile appears on Hannibal's lips as he moves to flip positions with you. He settled on top of you, his hands moving to unbutton your pants. You lifted your hips so he could tug your clothes down your legs. A gasp left your lips as Hannibal's fingers moved over your fold.

“This wet?”

You hand moved to grab onto his hard-on. He hissed as you palmed him through his pants.

“You’re one to talk.”

Hannibal let out a growl, his lips latching onto your neck once again. You tugged his dick out from his confines giving it a stroke before guiding it to your pussy. Hannibal helped you out, moving his hips forward. Your head lifted off the ground as you moaned. Hannibal wrapped his arms around your body holding you close to him as he began to move. He wanted to draw this feeling out but he knew he was working on borrowed time. Hannibal sped up his pace. You ass rubbed against the floor as Hannibal continued to thrust into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. You clawed at his back gasping as you searched for your orgasm. Hannibal moved one hand to your pussy, focusing on your clit. 

“Hannibal, I'm close.”

“Shhh just a bit more.”

A couple more thrusts and you were seeing stars. Your pussy gripped onto Hannibal's dick like a vice causing him to spiral into his own orgasm. He collapsed next to you on the floor. You closed your eyes trying to regain your breath.

“Told you I could do it.”

“Oh shut up.”

Hannibal laughed, his head turning to look at you. You moved closer to place a kiss on his lips. After a while you got up, tugging your clothes back on. Hannibal lead you to the door, pulling you into one last kiss before saying goodbye.

“You’re gonna be great tomorrow.”

“Hope you’re right.”

“Remember if anything happens I'm just a phone call away.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Bye Hanni.”

“Bye dear.”

[seramilla]

Carmilla shows Vaggie motherly affection and Vaggie basically having mini panic attack because she never had any sort of affection from a mother before. Thoughts?

I think I touched on that in the Vaggie Related to Carmilla AU/subsequent fic I posted for it, but yes, absolutely. Depending on whether Vaggie was always an angel, or lived a human life before dying relatively young, she's probably had little to no exposure to a mother's love. Any she did have was so long ago, she doesn't remember it.

We see her self-esteem issues in her relationship with Charlie. She throws herself at the redemption plan to make up for every bad thing she did, every person she killed, as an Exorcist. She feels unworthy of love, like she has to work for it, and feels useless when she can't do the things she needlessly imposed upon herself to do. She feels personally responsible for getting Charlie's hotel off the ground, because maybe saving as many souls as she destroyed will somehow make up for their loss.

The first time Carmilla ever praises her, encourages her, or tells her she's doing a good job, it's like a slap to the face. The first time Carmilla hugs her, pulls her in close, and calls her some Spanish term of endearment like she does for her real daughters, Vaggie feels like she could die. She's a nobody; she's a fallen angel. There is no universe in which this woman taking her under her wing doesn't imply an ulterior motive. She panics, pulls away, and puts her back to Carmilla, so the Overlord can't see her cry.

Carmilla is confused. She thought they were getting along swimmingly. Vaggie spars with her almost every day. Clara and Odette love her. Even Zestial seems fond of having the little angel around, and he usually takes an extremely long time to warm up to new souls. She feels completely comfortable showing Vaggie she is welcome in her home, and the former Exorcist has completely rejected her. She doesn't know how to handle that.

Vaggie doesn't want to talk about it, but Carmilla manages to get her to spill the beans. Carmilla's heart shatters all over again, hearing Vaggie break down; realizing the girl is unable to accept that her fondness for her is real. She knew Vaggie was obsessed with perfection, and having to be strong for Charlie all the time, but she didn't know the self-revulsion went quite so deep.

Vaggie has to get used to her touch over time. See with her own eyes that Carmilla is genuine in her affection, that she's not going to hurt Vaggie by giving her a hug. Vaggie is so used to fighting; any kind of physical encounter outside of throwing a punch feels foreign. It makes her shrink in on herself, and sends her fight or flight instincts into overdrive. She has to get used to Carmilla's arms around her. It makes her feel trapped at first. It's so hard for her to just feel a good feeling without thinking of all the reasons she doesn't deserve it.

She's not an easy nut to crack. It takes months. Years, even, before Vaggie is fully comfortable accepting that she has a family now. One that actually wants her there, and enjoys her company with no strings attached.

Carmilla encourages her to tell Charlie about it, so her girlfriend can help her through it, too. That, Vaggie thinks, is probably what finally helps her let go. She learns she doesn't need Charlie's acceptance, her approval, to be worthy of love. She can accept love from other people, too, and eventually, it becomes the easiest thing in the world.

Carmilla can dote on her. Love on her. Shower her forehead and face with goofy little kisses that make Vaggie laugh out loud from their intensity. She's still a little wary about initiating contact herself, because that will never not be awkward, but it's fine. Not many children openly express affection for their mothers when they get older, so in that, Vaggie is exactly like Carmilla's other kids. Yeah, she's her daughter, and neither one has a problem saying it from here on out.

[brucewaynehater101]

I typically go with Romantic which is just. So *oof*. Also, I can just picture it now. Dick asks Tim why he thought this was a good idea at all, why he didn't call someone for a ride and Tim simply replies, "I've been getting back to Gothem on my own like this for years. No need to bother you guys." and before he can even continue theres a chorus of "you aren't a bother" and "what the fuck do you mean?!"

Tim just takes a deep breath and says, "I've been getting back to Gothem on my own since before I was Robin so it was never a Robin or Batman issue, it's always been a Tim Drake thing." of course Bruce demands to know what Tim means by "getting back to Gothem on his own" and he just sighs as he sits on some grain, biting the bullet to just get it over with as he says, "sometimes when I went on trips with my parents they would get into arguments and leave in separate cars. And both of them would think the other one took me with them. And I always showed up at home safe and sound a few days later so they never really questioned it. Ha, first time was actually at a Gala in New York. I remember they were fighting about what dig site to go to and that night Mom got on a flight to Siberia while Dad got on a flight to The Congo. I snuck my little nine year old self onto a gray hound bus and rode it all the way to Gothem and then walked back to the manor."

Tim goes on to tell them about other times, somewhere between venting about his trauma and reminiscing about times he looks back on fondly. The fight that left him in Panama Beach when he was 11, the one that left him in Denver when he was 13, just 3 weeks before he became Robin, the one when he was 15 and was abandoned in Atlanta, the time when they left him somewhere in *Canada* and the time he was left in *Mexico City* when he was 14. He even laughs about having to sneak onto a cargo ship when his parents left him in Paris, France when he was 16. He comments that that one was actually a few weeks after he healed from the Titans Tower fight. Bruce and Jason are both totally not having a near panic attack about that last one.

Tim is living his life and forgetting that what he went through is probably fucked up. If it happened to another kid, he'd label that as criminal neglect. For himself? Meh.

(I know this is possible because, as someone who's been praised for being smart, I can be so fucking dumb. After explaining to my therapist that I've had anxiety attacks several years before and get anxious in social situations, I was shocked when she told me I had anxiety. Fucking dumb of me, but I bet Tim makes similar mistakes).

Just Tim vibing over all the "good times" he had and forgetting that it's fucked up his parents did that. He probably also felt really proud of himself for figuring it out. He was able to solve his issues and navigate complicated problems (like crossing borders without a passport) all by himself! Isn't that so cool!

The poor batfam is having heart attack after heart attack hearing all of this. It's another aspect of Tim that gets added to the piles of "things he hid from us without meaning to" and "why digging up the Drakes to revive and kill them again is a good idea" (Damian and Steph mainly are the ones to propose the second option).

I love the examples you proposed! Tim really was vibing

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: Sam and Dean’s sister has a complete mental breakdown from being depressed that everyone is dead and the anxiety that she is going to lose her brothers as well, but she’s also afraid that she’s losing herself because of how bad mentally she is.

Sam and Dean Winchester X Sister!Reader

Trigger warnings: Depression, Eating Disorder, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Grief and Loss, Unintended Self Harm, Cursing

AN: I really went into this DEEEEP. I’m sorry if you have ever experienced anxiety or panic attacks like this one before and I know how hard it can be. If you ever need to talk I’m always here. Also, requests are open! I’ve been working on a ton all at the same time and whatever one is just flowing at the moment is usually the one that I finish and post quicker. I love all of the requests I’ve been getting and they are all so good so feel free to request more and anything you want! I hope you like this one!!

You sat in the front seat of the impala in some random parking lot, sobbing your eyes out. You felt your phone vibrating over and over again and assumed it was your brothers calling. They were defientely freaking the hell out because you snagged the car keys and ran out of the bunker crying. You were just so overwhelmed with everything happening in your life. Everyone was dead and you never knew if you or your brothers were going to be next. The instability and constant fight or flight response from your body was finally catching up to you. You couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t stop worrying and you felt like you were dying. You felt your body shutting down and you were starting to feel hopeless. You were slowly killing yourself and the cycle was terrifying you.

A sudden sense of doom came over you and you felt like you were going to lose yourself at any moment. You started shaking and that’s when you noticed your heart pounding through your body. This was it, you were going to die. You were going to have a heart attack or a stroke or something. Your body officially had enough and you were going to die in this random parking lot and someone would have to find you there, dead. You choked back a sob as you panicked and put the car in reverse. You sped back towards the bunker and cried in relief as it came into view.

You parked the car and got out of it. As soon as your feet touched the ground, your body collapsed under you. You couldn’t even feel your limbs because they were so weak and numb. After numerous failed attempts of trying to get up, you just laid there on the hard ground. You were on your side in a ball, absolutely bawling. Your sobs drowned out the noise from around you as you let out painful cries. This was the end and there was nothing you could do to save yourself. You had lost complete hope and cried for every person you lost, every emotion you felt and you cried for yourself. You had completely lost who you were and you grieved the person you used to be. There was nothing else you could do because you were sure this was the end. You were going to meet your fate on the hard cold ground because you’re body gave up on you and couldn’t support you anymore. You let out another loud painful sob that raked through your body when you felt a pair of hands touch you. You jumped in fear and cried out. You were unable to defend yourself from how weak you were so you let out a sob of protest.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s Sam, it’s Sam!” You heard Sam say frantically as he checked you over for injuries.

“What the fuck?” Dean said as he squatted down in front of you and was met with your paled, clammy face and trembling body.

“Whats wrong?” He asked frantically, reaching out to put his hands on your body to stable you. You let out another sob and tried to suck in a breath. Your breathing was rapid and choppy and you couldn’t catch it with how hard you were crying. You were going to die.

“I-I’m g-go-going to die!” You shrieked, terrified as you reached to grab his forearms.

“WHAT?” Dean asked, frantically scanning your body for any sign of injury.

“I-I-I can’t b-brea-breathe.” You cried, struggling to talk. Your brothers shared a knowing look. Sam who was still behind you, stepped over top of you. Dean moved out of the way, to let Sam talk you through this one. You were terrified and your breaths were rapid. You latched onto Sam’s forearms in panic since Dean’s were now absent from you. You were searching for any kind of physical comfort and they both knew that. Dean went behind you and sat you up, pulling your back into his chest to support your body. You panicked from the lack of oxygen making its way into your body.

“Hey kid, I need you to relax for me. You’re okay, it’s alright.” Dean tried to soothe you, but you were too focused on the fact that you were dying. You gasped for air as your finger tips dug into Sam’s forearms. Sam’s eyes were soft as he looked into yours that were filled with terror.

“Hey bug, you’re okay, it’s okay Y/N/N, you’re alright.” He said softly, trying to get you grounded.

“No!” You sobbed. You were dying and these were going to be your last moments.

“You’re having a panic attack I need you to calm down for me.” He said gently.

“No, no, no, no!” You cried feeling the impending doom hitting you.

“I need you to breathe for me bug, please.” Sam tried again, grabbing your hands in his and giving them a squeeze.

“Oh my God!” You cried. “My f-fa-face is g-going numb! I’m h-ha-having a s-stroke!” You shrieked. Dean felt your body trembling and your heart pounding through your body.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, kiddo you’re okay, you’re okay!” Dean said helpless. His baby sister was struggling and he couldn’t snap you out of it. Sam instantly cupped your cheeks and made you look him in the eyes. Your hands went back to gripping his fore arms.

“You’re not having a stroke, your body’s in fight or flight so you need to breathe for me please.” He pleaded with you. You let out a strangled sob trying to breathe.

“I’m t-trying!” You choked out, desperately.

“I know, I know, you’re doing so well. Come on bug keep trying for me please.” Sam said softly. Dean felt your body struggling beneath him.

“Okay, okay try to match my breathing kiddo.” You heard Dean say as you felt his chest expand. You tried matching it and started making a little progress.

“Atta girl.” He praised, trying to encourage you to keep matching his breaths. You weren’t gasping for air anymore, but it was still clear that you were still struggling.

“Hey sweetheart, you’re okay, alright? I need you to tell me 5 things you can see right now.” Sam said. The question threw you off, but you looked around.

“T-the sky?” You questioned because you were still confused by what he was asking you and why.

“Okay and what are four more things you can see?” He asked gently, his eyes encouraging.

“The g-grass, you, Dean a-and the ca-car.” You responded.

“Good job!” Sam praised as Dean rubbed your back.

“What are 4 things you can touch?” He asked.

“Uhhh the concrete, the g-grass, this leaf a-and the car.” You responded again.

“Okay good, what are three things you can hear?” He asked softly. You took a minute to really listen to your surroundings before you answered.

“The birds, the breeze and the t-trees rustling.”

Sam sent you an encouraging nod.

“Okay and 2 things that you can smell?” He said.

“The m-mulch and the grass.” You said.

“Okay and one thing that you can taste.” He said.

“That’s easy, my tears.” You chuckled as Sam sent you a pained smile. Dean felt your body physically start to relax and nodded towards Sam. Sam shook his head before Dean spoke.

“Alright kid, how about we get you inside, yeah?” He asked. You nodded and he gently pulled you up from the ground. You were still trembling and your heart was still racing a little bit. You gripped onto Dean for support and shot him a terrified expression.

“Hey you’re alright, it’s normal. You’r body’s trying to calm down alright?” He explained. You nodded and tried to take your first step before you felt your body partially give out again. You were just so weak to begin with and your panic attack took so much out of you. Dean was quick though as he held you up to prevent you from hitting the ground. A slight whimper fell from your lips.

“I know kid, I know. I’ve got you.” He whispered as he helped you into the bunker. He guided you over to the couch before gently sitting you down. Both of your brothers now faced you with worried looks and you immediately looked towards the floor.

Dean squatted down in front of you so you had no choice but to look at him.

“What’s going on?” He asked concerned. You squeezed your eyes shut trying not to have another meltdown again.

“Hey,” you heard him say softly as he put his hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You’ve gotta tell us what’s going on kiddo so we can help you.” He explained.

“Everything!” You choked back a sob. “I’m scared, De! I’m just so scared!” You cried before finding enough energy to launch yourself into his arms—needing comfort. He immediately wrapped his arms around you and held the back of your head with one of his hands as he rested his chin on your head. The two of you stayed still for a few moments before Dean spoke again.

“You need to tell me what you’re scared of.” He said gently, trying to coax it out of you.

“I’m scared of losing you. I’m scared of losing Sammy. I’m scared I’ve already lost myself.” You whimpered. Dean clenched his jaw, not sure how to continue.

“Me and Sammy are right here kiddo, alright? We’re not going anywhere. Not ever.” He reassured you and you nodded into his chest before he pulled you back. You looked between both of your brothers pained expressions.

“What do you mean you think you’ve already lost yourself?” Dean asked concerned.

“I-“ You started before another tear slid down your cheek and you looked away.

“Hey bug, you’ve gotta tell us what’s going on, alright?” Sam said softly. You nodded and gulped.

“I can’t sleep because I’m terrified. I can’t eat because I’m terrified. I literally can not function and I feel myself growing weaker by the day. I can feel my body shutting down and it’s scaring me because I think it’s slowly killing me.” You whimpered.

“Okay.” Sam nodded, understanding where you were at mentally. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and felt so much pain for his baby sister who was struggling so badly. He wanted you to be able to live a normal teenage girl life so badly.

“I just feel so hopeless. Everyone’s dead, everyone I’ve ever loved is dead besides you two. You’re all I have left, but every day I never know if it’s going to be the day that I lose one of you or both of you! Without the both of you, I have nothing to live for and I wouldn’t know how to go on. You two have always been the most important thing in my life and you’re everything to me and I can’t imagine a life without either of you.” You said, bursting into tears. This was your reality and it was so shitty. “B-but, then I am so a-anxious and absolutely t-terrified that I can’t ever sleep at night and then I c-can’t eat. I feel my body shutting down and I-I’m scared that I’m dying. Its like I’m killing myself s-slowly, but I don’t mean to be. I just feel trapped in a n-never ending cycle of being hopeless and scared. I d-don’t want to die and I don’t want e-either of you to die, but the possibility of either of those things happening is so h-high and I can’t take another second of it a-anymore!” You cried out, it felt like your last plea for help. Your brothers expressions were pained. You couldn’t face them so your trembling hands gripped your hair and pulled your head between your knees. You let out another sob trying to drown out your reality. You felt your brothers sit on either side of you and a hand was placed on your back while another was placed on your knee.

“I can’t take it any longer!” You sobbed. Dean clenched his jaw and looked away from you. He took his hand off your knee and covered his face trying to stifle his emotions that were threatening to spill over. You let out another sob and he got up from the couch. He came in front of you and squatted down to your level. He grabbed your hands from your hair and gripped them tight in his.

“Look at me.” He said. You looked up at him and his face softened.

“I need you to know that nothing is going to happen to any of us ever alright? Please just trust me in knowing that we’re all going to be okay. We’re all too stubborn to die and stay dead anyway. We’re winchesters, we always find our way back no matter what. We will always be here for you. You got it?” He asked.

You nodded and chuckled slightly through your tears. To anyone else, that might’ve not been reassuring, but to you it was. Dean was right. We were all too stubborn to stay dead anyway. The Winchesters never gave up and we were relentless.

“Yeah we really are too stubborn to die.” You said, cracking a slight smile.

“And listen to me, we’re going to start working on that head of yours okay? Me and Sam are going to make sure you’re eating the way you should be. It will probably improve your sleep and then we’ll figure that part out from there, alright?” He asked.

“Yeah alright.” You said feeling a slight amount of hope.

“We’re starting this tonight so go get yourself cleaned up and showered. I’m going to make you a good protein filled dinner that you’re going to eat and then we’ll figure the rest out from there okay?” He asked. You nodded and he gave your hands one last squeeze before letting them go. You watched as Dean walked towards the kitchen and sighed.

“Do you need some help getting to the bathroom bug?” Sam asked with his hand still on your back. You were still incredibly weak and shaky, but you felt embarrassed needing even more help.

“Umm no I think I’m alright.” You said, shooting Sam a slight smile. There was no way you were going to let your body give out from under you again. You stood up weakly and felt Sam’s concerned eyes on you. You took your first slow step and wobbled slightly. You heard Sam stand up from his seat and that was all it took for you to push forward. You made your way to the bathroom with Sam following behind softly. He knew you were struggling, but knew you all too well. You weren’t going to ask for help so he turned on the shower and got a towel out for you.

“Thanks Sammy,” you whispered.

“You’re welcome. I’ll go get you some clothes and leave them at the door for you. Yell if you need anything else alright?” He asked.

“Yes, thank you.” You replied softly before you embraced him. The hug caught him slightly off guard, but he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your head.

“You’re going to be alright, everything’s going to be okay. We’re here for you always.” He reassured you before you pulled away.

“Okay.” You nodded and smiled slightly. He walked out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him. You got a shower and grabbed the towel that Sam got out for you. You dried off and slightly opened the bathroom door to see the pile of clothes Sam left for you. You put on his sweatpants that he gave you and had to roll them up about six times. His sweatshirt fell down to your knees and you hugged yourself. You felt safe and secure wearing your brothers baggy clothes. You walked quietly down the hall towards the kitchen. When you walked in you saw both of your brothers there. Dean pushed the plate towards Sam and Sam plated some sweet potatoes onto it. Dean grabbed it back from him and placed some chicken onto it. They both turned around and noticed your presence.

“Hey kiddo, here’s some chicken and those nasty sweet potatoes that you love so much.” He said, putting the plate down on the table in front of you. You chuckled as you sat at the table.

“Thanks guys. And Dean they are actually really so good, you should give them another try!” You said laughing at his disgusted expression.

“I’ll stick with my normal French fries thanks.” He said and pretended to gag.

“Okay more for me then!” You exclaimed.

“Yeah kiddo more for you so eat up and then we’re going to watch a movie.” Dean said softly looking at you starting to pick at your food.

“Oh okay, that’s fun! What movie are we watching?” You asked.

“Legally blonde, your favorite.” Dean said, smirking. You cheered and did a little happy dance in your seat.

“I’m so glad you think Reese Witherspoon is hot so we get to watch my favorite movie all the time.” You smirked.

“Yeah and Sammy was going to be a lawyer so he can relate to her or whatever. It’s the perfect movie for all of us.” Dean responded, smirking towards Sam. Sam sent Dean a bitch face.

“Yeah I’m just like Elle Woods.” He said sarcastically.

“Exactly, I know you brought your pink glitter pen to your bar exam.” Dean smirked and you giggled at his joke. Dean sent you a wink as you heard Sam huff.

“Yeah okay, go set up the movie Dean.” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Deans laughter boomed as he walked out of the kitchen to set up the movie.

Sam sat with you as you picked at your food. You ate a few more bites before setting down your fork. There was still half of the food left and Sam shot you his puppy dog eyes.

“You’ve gotta finish okay?” He said softly.

“But, I feel nauseous.” You whined.

“I know you’re feeling nauseous. Try to take small bites and eat slowly.“ Sam suggested, shooting you an encouraging look.

“Okay.” You said sadly and put more food into your mouth.

“You’ve got it bug.” Sam said standing up and kissing your head before he turned to clean the dishes from your dinner. He checked on you periodically as he cleaned the kitchen up. You actually felt pretty good once you pushed past the first feeling of nausea. You realized how hungry you really were and ate your dinner with ease. Just as you were finishing your last bite, Dean walked back in. He looked at your plate and smiled when he saw that you ate everything.

“Atta girl!” He cheered. “Now who wants some popcorn?” He smiled, looking between you and Sam.

“Me!” You said as you walked out of the kitchen. “And Dean grab some candy too!” You shouted as you jumped onto the couch. Sam followed behind you and sat down. Dean came in a little after with a huge bowl of popcorn and a ton of candy. He sat down and handed you the bowl of popcorn since you were in the middle of them both.

“Yum thanks!” You said, stuffing your face with the popcorn before the movie even started. Sam chuckled as he grabbed the remote.

“I’m glad you’re starting to feel more like yourself bug.” He said as he ruffled your hair with one hand and played the movie. By the end of it, the three of you were passed out on the couch together.

[arealphrooblem]

A Good Roommate Is Hard To Find

Synopsis: Civilian has harbored a secret crush on his roommate for a long time, only to find out that said roommate is the newest villain on the scene during a robbery at his job.

CW: death threats, knives

There was only one thing worse than having a crush on your straight roommate: having a crush on your straight villain roommate. 

Actually worse than that were rent prices, which kept Civilian from running as far in the opposite direction as he could get after he gave his statement to the police. 

A statement that contained a big, gaping hole. 

Because it couldn’t be true, right? It had to be a coincidence. Lots of people had weird, star shaped birthmarks on their ribs. It was a huge leap of logic to assume that the villain who had just tried to rob the bank that morning had the exact same birthmark as Civilian’s roommate for the past two years. 

Or maybe he just imagined it. It had been a very traumatic day. Civilian went home after the police released him and had a massive panic attack in the shower for about forty five minutes and then pressed two weighted blankets on him in bed like a panini grill. 

Having a group of villains stride into your workplace, guns blazing, would do that to you. As would getting stuck in the crossfire between said villains and the Hero from behind a desk, praying a stray bullet or laser beam wouldn’t hit and kill you. 

It was only a coincidence that Civilian had seen the birthmark. Near the end of the fight, one of the villains had been thrown over the very desk Civilian cowered behind, hitting the wall hard enough that even Civilian winced in sympathy. 

He laid there for a moment, dazed, half his torso exposed from a rip in his clothes, that stupid, undeniable birthmark on full display. Civilian could only stare at it, head dizzy as if he also took blunt force trauma to it. The villain groaned and sat up. 

For one agonizingly long second their eyes met. Civilian felt like a kitten spotted by a hawk. This was it. His time was up. He’d be just another statistic on the news -- 

But the villain just put a finger on his lips -- a silent command for silence -- that Civilian could only nod helplessly at. Then the villain slipped away in the chaos and disappeared. 

And besides, it couldn’t be his roommate because his roommate was in Colorado, visiting some online friend of his and going mountain biking or whatever. 

Two days after the attack, Roommate burst through the front door, dumping his duffel bag onto the floor and stepping towards Civilian with a scary single minded determination. 

It took every ounce of control not to flinch when Roommate cupped his face, gaze roving over his features as if looking for injuries. 

Roommate himself looked untouched from the fight. It almost made Civilian second guess himself. But he hadn’t spent the last two days analyzing every detail his love-sick brain had filed away for the last two years to doubt himself now. 

That villain and his roommate were the same person. 

“I saw the news,” Roommate said. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? I tried to change my flight but this was the soonest I could get in.”

The lie hurt. Obviously Roommate hadn’t been mountain biking in Colorado for the past few days so it begged the question: what else did he lie about? Was this concern just an elaborate play at innocence? But if his roommate was taking the time to craft this act of concern, then he must not think Civilian knew. 

And if Civilian valued his life, he’d have to keep it that way and force normalcy. 

“I’m fine,” he said, trying for a smile and coming up with a grimace. “I mean, I’m not fine. It was fucking scary, but I didn’t get hurt. So there’s that. Work’s given me a week off and then. . .”

Roommate scowled. “And then what? They can’t possibly think you’d be okay working there again after only a few days off? You should quit.”

“Quit?” Civilian’s eyebrows raised. “And we both get thrown out on our asses? We’re lucky enough to have this apartment as it is.”

“I have enough savings to get us through for a few weeks while you find another job,” Roommate insisted. 

“I thought you blew it all on Colorado,” Civilian joked weakly. 

And where the fuck did those savings come from? he wanted to ask. But he didn’t dare. 

“Not all of it. Seriously. You should think about it.”

Something gleamed in the roommate’s eyes, like a warning. Civilian swallowed thickly and nodded. 

“Okay. I’ll think about it. I just . . .I think I’m going to go lay down for a bit. It’s good to have you back. You’ll have to tell me all about it when I wake up again.”

Roommate’s face lit up with a smile and Civilian’s heart twisted in his chest. “I have so many good photos. It’s beautiful out there.You should come with me next time.”

“Yeah sure,” said Civilian thoughtlessly, thinking only of the dark safety of his room. 

“Get some rest.” Roommate nudged Civilian towards the hallway. “I’ll order us pizza.”

Civilian nodded and forced his steps to slow as he made his way to the bedroom. Once the door shut and the fan turned on, he buried his head under his pillows and tried to get his breathing under control. 

Faking normalcy was going to be harder than he thought. 

"Oh you're starting dinner already?"

Civilian jumped at the sound of his roommate's voice, the knife slipping and nearly cutting  into his fingertip. A quick glance over his shoulder showed his roommate leaning against the opposite counter, arms folded loosely over his chest. 

Just a casual chat. And yet it felt like a fist suddenly gripped Civilian's heart. Even after three days, it still felt like walking the knife’s edge every time they were in the same room together. 

"I, um, got bored," he said, thankful to be facing away so his terror wouldn't show as he fought it back down. "I didn't know you'd be home so soon."

"I took a half day at lunch. Did some shopping. I got you more of that tea. It seemed to help you sleep."

A hint of guilt colored his roommate's nonchalance. Or maybe Civilian just imagined it. 

"Thanks," Civilian said.

Focus. Focus on the potato. Cube the potato. Be the potato. 

Heart thudding in his ears, his concentration on chopping vegetables, Civilian didn't hear the movement until his roommate's head appeared over his shoulder. 

"What are you making?" he asked. 

Civilian swallowed down a lick of sudden hysteria. 

Get a fucking hold of yourself he thought. There is no reason why he'd be suspicious unless you're acting like a lunatic!

"Soup," he managed to croak. "The, uh, kind at the Italian restaurant you like."

A bribe. A hope. A way to remind himself that he knew his roommate, right? They've lived together for two years. 

And true to form, his roommate's eyes brightened. "Oh excellent! We haven't had that in ages."

"That's because chopping all these vegetables is a pain in the ass."

A thick tension rose and tightened between them. Civilian concentrated on chopping, trying to ignore the heat at his back as his roommate didn't step away, didn't leave. Just watched him. 

"You're using the wrong knife, you know," the roommate said softly. 

" . . .what?"

The roommate reached over Civilian's shoulder to the knife block on the counter and pulled one out. It was small and two fingers wide, short and wickedly sharp. Fear clenched Civilian's throat with icy hands. 

"You're using a butcher knife," his roommate murmured against Civilian's ear. A shiver fluttered down his neck. "That's for cutting meat. You need a paring knife for vegetables."

" . . .Oh." Was it just him or did the kitchen suddenly feel low on air? "I'll . . . remember that . . .for next time. . ."

"Why don't I take over? At least for the chopping."

Civilian tightened his grip on the knife, an instinctive gesture he had no control over. But even though Roommate had offered help in the kitchen many times, that same instinct screamed not to let him. Something felt different this time. 

"I got it," he said, forcing lightness in his tone. "You know you're hopeless in the kitchen."

"I'm good with knives, though." Civilian swallowed down another spike of cold terror. "It's the least I can do if you're making me my favorite."

The paring knife rested just inside Civilian's peripheral, deceptively harmless. 

"Why don't you put the gnocchi on to boil," he said. "I'm almost done here."

His roommate sighed, a rush of air against Civilian’s cheek. "You're always so stubborn," he said with sad fondness. 

The paring knife moved like a flash and suddenly it's cold steel pressed light as a kiss just under Civilian's jaw. 

His breath froze in his lungs. 

"Drop the knife, Civilian."

" . . .Roommate?" It wasn't difficult to pitch his voice high in uncertain fear. To pretend shock. "What are you doing?"

"I know that you know."

"Know what?" Civilian breathed and then cringed at how unbelievable it sounded even to his own ears. 

He only had room in his head for one secret,  it was hard to sound convincingly ignorant when every cell screamed at him to run away. 

"You've tried so valiantly to hide it, but I know you too well." Roommate's murmured against his ear.  "You're afraid."

Civilian dragged a shaky breath into his lungs. "You have a knife to my throat."

"And you are nowhere near as shocked about that as you should be." Roommate twisted the knife until the flat of the blade lay against Civilian's skin -- and then he dragged it, achingly slow, over Civilian's jawline to rest against raw bitten lips. 

A wave of dizziness gripped him, driven by fear mixed with the heady, dangerous edge of want, the desire Civilian struggled with for so many months wrapping its claws around his chest. 

"Be a good boy and drop the knife."

Breath came fast and heavy as he willed himself to relax his fingers, to release the knife. Not that he would have even thought of it as a weapon and not a kitchen tool until his roommate demonstrated it. But with one having danced so close to his pulse, letting go of his own felt like a death sentence. 

The second he dropped the knife, his roommate twisted a hand into the fabric of his shirt and hauled him across the kitchen to pin him against the fridge. The smiling tomato magnet they grabbed as a joke at a yard sale clattered to the floor and broke into pieces. The roommate  doesn't so much as flinch, their gaze like stone, the knife never wavering from Civilian's neck.

He swallows thickly against the panic, never more afraid in his life than in this moment. He never thought death would look like his favorite person in the world ready to slit his throat with a paring knife. 

And yet the desire still thrummed beneath it all, a twisted hunger being fed from such close contact, like his body forgot to stop yearning in light of what his mind knew. But the stone-cold glint in his roommate’s eyes twisted his face from comfortingly familiar into dangerously unrecognizable. 

Seeing it shattered something in Civilian just like that stupid magnet. His eyes prickled and stung; the roommate's face turned blurry. Humiliated, he darted his gaze to the window, focusing on the speck of green of the neighbor’s tree swaying in the breeze. 

And waited for death. 

Time stretched long and excruciating between each heartbeat. Then the coolness of the knife disappeared, replaced by warm fingers that nudged his gaze back to his roommate’s.

“Hey,” the roommate said softly. 

That granite hardness of his gaze had melted into soft concern. The exact kind of look he gave Civilian each time a migraine flared up. The reminder of that felt as dangerous as the knife. It couldn’t be real. 

“Hey, it’s okay.”

The words hit him like a slap to the face. 

“Don’t say that!” Civilian hissed. “I didn’t do anything and you’re going to kill me.”

He flinched from the hand that raised up, knocking his head painfully against the fridge. But Roommate only brushed a stray tear away with his calloused thumb. 

“You’re right,” he said pensively. “You didn’t do anything. And I’m not going to kill you.”

He turned and tossed the knife into the sink. Civilian did not feel any safer, however. He felt like a bug under the shadow of a boot,  even as Roommate smoothed his hands over Civilian’s chest in a display of casual affection he would have died for a week earlier. 

“Here is what I am going to do,” he continued. “I’m going to finish dinner. You’re going to compose yourself in a long hot shower and when you get out we are going to eat and have a discussion about the way things are going to be from now on. Is that alright?”

Civilian nodded, not trusting his voice. What other answer could he possibly give?

Part two here

[pankowcrumbs]

Pillow Flight X Rudy Pankow (requested)

MasterList

Outerbanks and Cast Masterlist

Barbados was everything we could have dreamed of and more. The cast and I had been shooting scenes for Outer Banks all week, and our evenings were spent at the most charming Airbnb I’d ever stayed in. It was a sprawling villa, complete with a pool, hammocks, and a giant living room where we’d gather to decompress after long days on set.

Tonight was one of those rare nights when everyone was in high spirits, and the exhaustion from filming seemed to fade away. We’d all just finished dinner, and someone—I’m pretty sure it was JD—had the brilliant idea to start a pillow fight. Within minutes, cushions from the couch and actual pillows from the bedrooms became ammunition as we waged war on each other.

“This is war!” Drew shouted, diving behind the couch and flinging a pillow at Madelyn, who shrieked before retaliating with a well-aimed shot to his head. Chase was laughing so hard he could barely defend himself, and Carlacia had teamed up with Madison to take down JD.

I was laughing so much my sides hurt, clutching a pillow as I tried to figure out who my next target should be. That’s when Rudy came into view, wielding two pillows like he was some kind of dual-sword-wielding knight.

“You’re going down, Y/N!” he declared, grinning ear to ear.

“You wish, Pankow!” I shot back, brandishing my pillow in what I hoped was an intimidating manner.

He lunged toward me, and I let out a laugh, dodging his attack and smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “Too slow!” I taunted, sticking my tongue out at him.

“Oh, it’s on now,” he said, narrowing his eyes in mock determination.

I turned to run, laughing, but before I could take more than a few steps, I heard him shout, “Incoming!” A split second later, I felt the impact of a pillow hitting my back. I stumbled slightly but managed to stay on my feet.

That’s when it happened.

I was standing near the edge of the coffee table, watching Carlacia and JD battle it out, when Rudy’s next throw came out of nowhere. The pillow hit me square in the side of the head just as I turned to look his way. It wasn’t a hard hit—at least, it didn’t feel like it was—but it caught me off guard. My foot slipped on the edge of the rug, and I went down, my head making contact with the floor.

The room went silent.

I must have blacked out for a second or two because when I opened my eyes, Rudy was kneeling beside me, his face a mask of panic.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?” he asked, his voice frantic as he gently placed a hand on my shoulder.

I blinked up at him, disoriented. “What happened?”

“You fell,” he said, his voice tight with worry. “I hit you with the pillow, and you slipped. I… I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Can you sit up?”

By now, the rest of the cast had gathered around, their playful energy replaced with concern. Madelyn knelt on my other side, while Chase hovered nearby, looking worried.

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to sit up. A dull ache throbbed in the back of my head, but it wasn’t unbearable. Rudy’s hands immediately moved to support me, his touch gentle.

“You hit your head pretty hard,” he said. “We should get you checked out by the medic.”

“Rudy, I’m fine,” I insisted, though my head was still spinning slightly.

“No,” he said firmly, his blue eyes filled with guilt. “I’m not taking any chances. Come on.”

Before I could protest further, he scooped me up into his arms, cradling me like I weighed nothing.

“Rudy, I can walk,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up.

“Not happening,” he replied, his jaw set. “Just let me do this, okay?”

I sighed, giving up. There was no arguing with Rudy when he got like this.

He carried me out to the patio, where the on-site medic team was stationed. They’d been hired to stay with us during the shoot in case of injuries, and tonight, I guess I was their patient.

The medic, a kind woman named Laura, checked me over thoroughly. She shone a light in my eyes, asked me a series of questions, and carefully examined the back of my head.

“You’ve got a bit of a bump,” she said, “but there’s no sign of a concussion. You’ll probably have a headache for a little while, but you’re going to be okay.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Thanks, Laura.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “Take it easy for the rest of the night, and let me know if you start to feel worse.”

I nodded, and she left to return to her station. Rudy, who had been standing nearby the whole time, immediately sat down beside me.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said, his voice heavy with guilt. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. I… I should’ve been more careful.”

“Rudy,” I said, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “It was an accident. I’m fine. You heard Laura.”

“But still,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I feel terrible. I—”

“Rudy,” I interrupted, leaning closer. He stopped rambling, his eyes meeting mine. Without giving myself time to second-guess, I closed the distance and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He froze for a moment, clearly surprised, but then he kissed me back, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. When we finally pulled apart, his expression was a mix of surprise and something else—something softer.

“What was that for?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“To shut you up,” I said, a teasing smile playing on my lips. “And to show you that I’m okay. Really.”

He let out a small laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Well, it worked. But if you think this means I’m going to stop looking out for you, you’re wrong.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” I said, leaning my head against his shoulder.

The rest of the night was much calmer. The pillow fight was officially over, and the group settled in to watch a movie. Rudy stayed by my side the entire time, his arm draped protectively around me.

As I leaned into him, the dull ache in my head slowly fading, I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe getting hit with a pillow wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world, but if it led to moments like this, I couldn’t really complain.

[katyawriteswhump]

Pidge-nado! (steddiemas, steddie holiday drabble, whumpcember)

For @steddiemas ‘cosy days’ prompts, eggnog, baking, sweater, pine, @steddieholidaydrabbles day 19 prompt, “dessert” and, @whumpcember day 19 prompt, panic attack.

WC: 965. Rating: T CW: none.  Tags: fluff, established steddie, angst and hurt/comfort, panic attacks. Summary: Steve would do anything for Eddie, face down any danger. But even he has his limits…

🐦🐦🐦🐦

Spring Break, 1986

Steve had just been dragged into the Upside Down through the water-gate and had barely gotten free from Vecna’s ghoulish horror-flick vines.

When the demo-bats came flapping out of that blood-red sky, he panicked slightly, who wouldn’t? He still grabbed that goddamn oar, chose fight not flight. While batting the shrieking beasties away—and before they started stabbing and throttling him to near-death—a crazy whisper in his head actually grounded him:

At least they’re not fucking pigeons.

…

December, 1987

“Look on the…” cough. “...sunny side.” Eddie paused, in order to finish choking on the smoke and stench of burning cookies and wrap his arms around Steve. He plonked his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “They’re so rock-hard, I reckon you’ve invented a whole new substance. Call Henderson—he’ll wanna name it.”

“Haha.”

Steve was pissed. He loved this trailer to death because he shared it with Eddie. But everything was salvaged, broken or breaking—like most of post-Vecna-earthquake Hawkins—and the oven thermostat was royally screwed.

He scowled, turning in the circle of Eddie’s arms. “I promised the kids cookies! I’m so mad with myself. I should’ve kept a better…” cough… “watch”... cough, cough.

The cookie-fumes having reached crisis point, Eddie opened a window, letting in a blast of icy air.

“Chill, honey,” said Eddie, once they’d finished coughing. “Y’know who’s gonna dig your culinary efforts?”

Eddie trudged outside and ground a cookie into the snow beneath his boot-heel. A pigeon flapped down from the pine-tree overshadowing the trailer.

“Hey, Slash,” said Eddie.

Steve’s nerves went apeshit, which was completely dumb.

He’d faced down Vecna.

This was a fucking pigeon.

Eddie knew Steve ‘wasn’t a fan.’ He’d never admit more. Especially given the adoring grin Eddie gave Slash.

Deal with it, Harrington.

Soon, Slash’s entire mob of pigeon gangsters pecked at Eddie’s feet. Steve retreated into the trailer, which was now freezing and stinky. When Eddie returned, they located the thickest sweaters that Claudia Henderson’s knitting needles had conjured for them and climbed into bed.

This was cosy heaven. Usually. Steve’s skin crawled.

“Hope you’ve washed those hands,” he mumbled. He pictured Slash pecking from the palms that Eddie shoved up Steve’s sweater to rub would-be-sensual circles on his chest.

“’Course, Babe.”

Steve tried to relax, knowing where Eddie would descend to next with those ice-queen hands. They’d feel waaay better than they’d any right to when they got there.

Still no good. Steve broke their smoochy kiss.

“You okay?” asked Eddie.

“Yes… no… sort of?”

The patter of scratchy claws on the trailer roof. The creepy coo-cooooo… The fucking pigeons were waaaay louder than usual. Or maybe Steve was edgier than usual, after his baking fail. It seemed mean to ask Eddie to scare off his ‘friends,’ so…

“Gimme a mo.’” He wriggled out of bed and marched from the bedroom toward the door.

You can do this, Harrington. Just… clap your hands or something.

He threw open the trailer door. Then threw up his arms as a dozen sky-rats swarmed in his face. Their brushing wings might as well have been slashing razors, because he was back where this all began, hunkered in a frozen ball, unable to drag the ice-air into his lungs.

Shiiiit! You’re not gonna die, Harrington, you’re gonna be fine!

Nope. His body wasn’t listening to his rational mind. All it knew was… IT’S FUCKING PIGEONS! YOU’RE GONNA BE TOAST!!

Later, after Eddie shooed the last of the winged-beasts from the trailer, he sat beside Steve on the bed, curling an arm around him. He shoved a mug of his legendary eggnog-vodka into Steve’s trembling hands.

“Bat flashbacks?” asked Eddie, rubbing Steve’s back.

Steve groaned; he was cold, shivering and horribly sticky and sweaty now. “Not really. I mean, you totally dealt just now, and the demo-bats practically killed you!” He smothered his face in Eddie’s hair, breathing deep, then, “I was at summer camp. We were feeding the stupid birds, then they all came at me. Like, totally picking on me, in a pigeon-tornado... pidge-nado? Whatever. I freaked out. Worse, I cried. Became the biggest joke in camp, then one of the councillors told my dad, and he never let it go. Like, it made me less of a man already. At eleven-years-old.”

“Um, Steve—firstly, it’s a natural reaction to being unexpectedly attacked, kid or otherwise. Secondly, recent track record suggests that you’re not topping anybody’s list of ‘cowardly custards.’ Thirdly… I’m sorry. I will henceforth discourage Slash and his band of unruly sky-demons.”

“Thanks. Feel bad, tho’.” Steve downed his eggnog, which burned his throat like faintly milky paint-stripper. “Slash makes you happy, and…” I’d put up with anything for you, Eddie Munson, and I know you’d do anything for me. True, but too sappy to say. Instead, he snickered. “I want to try and get used to them. Hey, and at least somebody likes my baking.”

A few days later, Steve had totally nailed the pastry on a key-lime pie. Dessert for dinner with Wayne tonight was halfway to perfect. He was whisking away at the cream filler, when a beak tapped on the window.

He rolled his shoulders back, stared down Slash’s devil-red eyes. Face your fears, Harrington. Face them for Eddie.

He opened the window a crack, cringing as Slash pecked the pastry-crumb from his finger. “You’re okay, I guess,” he mumbled.

The gray cloud swept from the pine, in a hurricane of beating wings.

He slammed the window, sending pigeons scattering to the four winds, and flipped the bird. Baby-steps, Harrington. He was only shaking a bit.

He returned to cosy dreams about exactly what parts of Eddie he was gonna lick spare key-lime topping off later. And whether—if he picked up extra shifts at Family Video—they might be able to afford a cat.

🐦🐦🐦🐦

zero pressure tag: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

For the record, I am def. more of a bird-lover than a hater, including pigeons, despite a spotty record and a childhood experience possibly drawn on here… ahem. And I know now it is considered definitely not healthy for birdies to feed them burnt cookies or any bready stuff, though I guess a lot of us did it in the past 😱

[deanswhiskey]

𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 - 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

summary; you and sam get stuck in an elevator. what could go wrong?

wc; 1,622

warnings; sam having a panic attack :(, cursing, kissing

authors note; this is partly inspired by the book stinger by mia sheridan and a little by that one episode of teen wolf (not proofread)

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

sam wasn’t scared of many things. how could he be? he had to fight vampires, werewolves, and a ton of other monsters only you could dream of on an almost daily basis.

he was scared of two things, however; clowns and elevators.

so, he wasn’t too thrilled about having to ride one, especially in this circumstance.

the day had gone great so far. he was the one to figure out who the monster was. he was the one who figured out how to kill it. hell, he was the one to find the hunt in the first place.

now, you and sam had been tasked to interview someone who was close with the victim. you had reached out and contact them asking if the both of you could interview her. she had triplets at home and she explained how chaotic it’d be to try and interview her from home, so she suggested her workplace.

the two of you had made your way to almost the dead center of the city. it wasn’t a tall building thankfully, so the flight of stairs wouldn’t be daunting.

you had known of sams fear of elevators. it was something you’d completely understood. trusting a metal box to bring you up several stories doesn’t sound too pleasant.

so when the two of you went past the revolving doors and checking in with the front desk, you bother were frozen at the sight of the two poorly taped up pieces of caution tape between the stair railing and the wall and the two yellow caution signs propped up on the floor in front.

of course they had to be cleaning the day you two arrive.

you were frozen because you knew you had to take the elevator which sam was not going to be happy about. sam was frozen because he realized he had to take the elevator.

you looked up at him, his face displeased and almost a bit pale. it was a mixture of anger and fear that you saw in his eyes.

slipping your hand into his, you spoke up first, “are you gonna be okay to do this?” sam broke his gaze from the stairs to look down at you, then at your hands and back up to your eyes. he could tell you were concerned for him.

sam put on his best brave face, which wasn’t fooling anybody, and nodded, “yea, let’s just get this over with.” he gulped. “no turning back now, right?” he let out a half-assed laugh.

there really was no turning back. you couldn’t send dean to do it, he was already off on a different interview.

you wanted to give sam one last reassurance before heading to the elevator but sam whisked you away before you could; hands still interlinked.

thankfully the elevators were away from people so no one could see his jittery stance before he pressed the up button next to the doors.

“sam, it’s okay if you don’t want to do this. i can go up there myself.” you unlaced your hands to step in front of him.

he shook his head, “i got this. just an elevator, right?”

“you don’t have to pretend not to be scared, it’s okay?” sam just nodded in response. you grabbed both of his hands after noticing his fidgetiness with them.

you looked up at him; boy, could sam get lost in those eyes. he knew he was going to be fine because you were there; you made him brave.

the elevator dinged, signaling it was ready. the two of you hopped in and you pressed the 10 button.

it was silent until you spoke up, “so i was thinking, what if it’s a vamp nest? instead of just the one like we thought. i mean it doesn’t make sense, how can it? the killings are too fast and too close together. it definitely has to be more than two, at least. another wild theory, what if it’s a couple shapeshifters. i mean how else could you explain the weird goopy stuff near the bodies.”

you looked over at sam, he was deep in thought, clearly not lying paying attention. you couldn’t blame him, you were slowly going up 10 floor in an elevator. so you decided to mess with him, “and i’m also pregnant. yea, i don’t know who the father is.”

“what?!” sams eyes nearly flew out of his head. he looked over to see you nearly doubled over laughing. he started to chuckle too once he realized you were joking.

“oh man, you should’ve seen the—”

your sentence cut short but a couple loud clicks and clanks, followed by a loud bang, and the elevator coming to an abrupt stop. the light in the elevator flickered a few time before going on and the emergency one cutting on.

“shit, shit, shit.” sam kept repeating to himself and his hands became more and more sweaty, knees weak, while slowly backing up into the wall behind him. “no, no, this can’t be happening.”

you looked over at him, worried for his wellbeing. “sam? sam, look at me. everything will be fine. i’m gonna call someone on the emergency phone.” you grabbed one of his hands, not caring about the sweat. your other hand reached up to the side of his face to make him look at you.

“just— uh,” you were stuck in thought, you didn’t really know what to do, “just sit, right here, on the floor. hold on.”

the guy on the other end of the emergency phone said there was a power outage in the building and they were working to get the power back on and emergency services to you. you didn’t bother telling sam that it would take an hour or so to get the paper on and you both out; he didn’t need that in the moment.

you crouched down in front of sam, “sam, are you okay?”

“yea, yea, what’d the guy say?” his breathing was labored, struggling to maintain eye contact.

“he just said there was a power outage and they’re working hard to get it back on while sending someone to come get us.” your hands grabbed his in attempts to calm him down.

it didn’t look like much but it calmed some of his nerves.

sams breathing still labored. god, what could you do to help, you thought. “talk to me, sam. tell me something, anything.” you encouraged.

“i— uh,” he struggled to think of something. words formed in his mind but nothing was coherent, nor coming out.

his hands grew more shaky while his breathing became shallower, tears pricked his eyes.

“sam, look at me. can you breath with me? i’m gonna take some deep breaths, can you follow?” he only nodded in response. sam couldn’t really follow your breathing but he tried, for you.

the only thing running through was you. the look on your face saddened him. he wish he didn’t feel this way, he never wanted to bother you with this. your soft and delicate features now filled with worry and panic of your own.

“you gotta breath sam; please don’t pass out on me.” you let out a sad chuckle. one of your hands reached up to push the hair out of his face. sam leaned in your touch, feeling comfortable by any sort of touch you provide.

then you remembered, and old tale, holding your breath can slow your breathing. “hold your breath!” sam just looked confused. “holding your breath can slow your breathing. try it, sam!”

so he did, thought it was unsuccessful. “it’s not working.” he breathed out.

the fireman weren’t even close to your guys yet. your brain was racing a million miles a minute. you had to do something, and you needed to do it now.

before you even knew it, your lips were on sams. you hold your breath for a kiss, right? in this case you both did.

you pulled away after a few seconds. “what was that?” sam half smiled.

“you’re not breathing heavy anymore.” you smiled at your accomplishment.

sam took a moment to realize this. “oh, yea. i guess not.”

his eyes searching for he doesn’t even know. he couldn’t help stare into your beautiful eyes. he had pictured a million different ways he’d kiss you but he never thought it’d be this way; same goes for you.

“sam, i—” you didn’t get to finish before sam gently placed his lips back on yours. the kiss was sweet, like a give you’d give your high school boyfriend on prom.

you kissed back with more passion, prolonging the kiss. sams head tilts and so does yours to deepen the kiss. his hands find their way to your waist pulling on top of his lap.

the kiss only lasted a few more seconds before you pulled away. you just smiled, “what was that for?”

“thank you, for everything.” his eyes saying what he couldn’t get out at the moment.

“i hope that’s not how you thank everyone.” you joked with him.

“only you, sweetheart.” he winks and leans in for another kiss.

not but a few minutes later the rescue squad came and got the two of you. you had to cancel the interview but that was okay, dean had figured out who the monster was and the three of you took them down the next day.

the hunt was successful for many reasons. you took down a vamp and shapeshifter who teamed up, in record time too. sam had somewhat conquered his fear of elevators and finally gotten the girl of his dreams. and you had gotten the man of your dreams, too.

maybe you and sam should get stuck in elevators more often.

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

[miintsprigz]

Trying something new…

TF2 mercs with a reader experiencing a panic attack. Gender neutral.

This has Engie, Medic, and Scout, cuz I love those three especially. Not sure if I can do requests, but I could try.

Notes: I’ve never had the pleasure of actually playing the game because my technology is very limited (one day…), but I love the characters. If my writing for the mechanics is wack, that’s why.

I also know it would be hard to have a panic disorder and be a mercenary, but I feel like it could still happen sometimes. They’re still human.

Warnings: descriptions of panic attacks and other mental health ailments that may be associated with them, including dissociation, hyperventilation, insomnia, and hallucinations.

Engineer:

-You had been forced into a corner. Inching closer and closer to respawn by the second.

-How many more hits could you take? You weren’t sure. But you didn’t want to go through that again…it had happened so many times…maybe you truly were losing your touch.

-The breath hitched in your throat, and tears threatened to spill down your face. Please…please just leave me alone…!

-A voice crooned from just behind him. The sadistic grin was wiped off your attacker’s face as he received a bright bolt of light to the back of his head, slumping over with a thud.

- “That’s just about enough a’ that, son.” Engineer, with the Short Circuit still smoking, looked down at you. “Ah…” Even with his eyes covered by his goggles, you could see the pleased smirk drop immediately as he retracted the weapon.

-Maybe it was the visible concern, maybe it was the fact that you didn’t have to be in fight or flight anymore, but the dam broke. You couldn’t breathe, every attempt at getting air came out in sharp gasps, audibly sobbing.

-“C’mere, darlin’…how bad did he getcha… Whoa—”

-You clamped your arms around him when he went to help you up, holding for dear life as your face quickly became slick with tears. “T-too close…I, I almost…oh my gosh…”

-Engie went rigid for a moment, clearly not expecting the sudden grasp, not knowing what to do.

-Machines, those he knew how to fix. But to find one of his closest teammates broken down crying in his arms, shaking like a leaf… how could he fix that? Could he…? Surely, surely he could. He would. That was his job!

-Slowly, warmly, two strong arms wrapped around you, stroking your shoulder with his thumb.

-“Now, now, honey…don’t you cry, I got ‘em for ya. And if anyone lays another finger on ya, they’re gettin’ a wrench to the dome, hear me?” You nodded quick, curling your head into his shoulder.

-“Let’s get you outta here, we’ll find the doc together, patch you up. Up ya go…”

-Assuming you didn’t start walking by yourself, he did his best to smoothly transfer you out of the embrace and into a close carry.

-You still struggled to catch your breath, and as he picked his pace up, you rested your head against his chest.

-Feeling his voice reverberate, you heard him humming the song he’d been softly singing the other night. The same one you had fallen asleep to. Trying to soothe you, in his own sort of way.

Medic

-Burning. Burning all over. That’s all you remember. You’d dropped your guard…there was just a Pyro and a Scout left, and you’d ended up completely burned.

-As you were brought back, you found that you couldn’t stand.

-Medic hurried up to you as you dropped to your knees, MediGun in hand. “Ah, wunderbar (wonderful)! I have saved a charge just for you, let’s go finish—oh. (Y/N), was ist los (what’s the matter)???”

-You grasped at your arms, your legs, you swore you could still feel the flames licking at you. Your breathing sped up, feeling your heart pounding in your ears.

-Medic may have had his license revoked, but he still knew exactly what this was.

-As you tried to get up and listen to what he had been telling you to do, he immediately stood in front of you. “Nein, I cannot in good conscience let you go back out right now. Bitte (please), (Y/N), sit down.”

-Plunking yourself right back down on the floor, you fought hard against the tightness that was forming in your throat. “That…that freaking sucked…”

-“I know that it did.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him moving to put an arm around your shoulder, giving you a moment to back away if you needed to.

-He seemed surprised when you instead leaned against him, trying your best to keep yourself together.

-“Oh! …ah, Liebe, that is not one you recover from quickly. Sit still…it’s okay.”

-The doctor reached over and softly ruffled your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle. A few tears escaped your eyes, but you were beginning to catch your breath again.

-“I know I was a bit strict, but…sending you out like this could easily get you killed again…and we do not want that.”

-Medic stared daggers towards the direction of the scent of smoke. How dare they set you ablaze. He’d make sure to take them out in pieces…

-The thought of bloodshed nearly drove him to his feet, almost hungry for it, but as he looked at you, he dropped his shoulders. We can get revenge later. They need me right now.

-“Liebe, listen. Don’t work so hard, alright? It’s no good for your heart… There will be hell to pay for that…for now though...stay here. And I’ll stay too, if it helps. I just healed everyone, I think they’ll be good.”

-You glanced up at him. “Are you comfortable like this?” He rolled his eyes wearily, but chuckled.

-“Me? I’m just fine.”

Scout

-The enemy Spy had been absolutely unrelenting for the last few days. Nowhere was safe. Nowhere at all.

-You were so anxious about going back to that the next day that it was even beginning to mess with your sleep. You swear you saw shadows moving, eyes in the dark…the lack of sleep only made it worse.

-Every encounter with that menace ran through your mind, playing on repeat as you stared at the ceiling. Finally, you decided to give up on sleep and go back downstairs.

-Upon seeing a shadow standing in the darkness, you couldn’t help but stumble backwards with a gasp, fumbling for a weapon that wasn’t anywhere near you.

-“Whoa! Hey pal, whatcha doin’ up right now?”

-The voice was clearly that of the Scout…or maybe that was what he wanted you to think.

-Unable to catch your breath, you ended up with your back to a wall, hands up in front of you in a panic. You saw Scout through your fingers—and quickly-accumulating tears at the corners of your vision. He looked…worried. Extremely so.

-Scout was confused, not atypical for him. But why were they so afraid? He hadn’t been too loud, had he? “…(Y/N)…it’s me, Scout. Jeremy. Ya…ya don’t gotta be scared. I’m sorry…didn’t mean ta scare ya.”

-Your hands visibly shook as you looked at him, desperately searching for some sign that could tell you if this was real or fake. “…you’re the real one…?”

-Oh. They were scared about the Spy…that scared? He’d noticed they’d been acting way different.

-“It’s the real me, (Y/N). Ain’t no freakin’ Spy gettin’ in here with me around. I’d never lie to ya, so please…”

-Somehow this did the trick. You fell apart, crying into your hands, which were cold and clammy at this point, ashamed of your own fear. “I’m sorry! …I’m sorry…”

-“Hey…it’s okay, I gotcha…” Scout knelt down in front of them, holding his empty hands out. Maybe if they see I’m not armed, it’ll help?

-You felt a gentle tap on your knee. Pulling one hand back, you found Scout holding his own out to you. “C’mere a sec.”

-Taking his hand, his fingers carefully intertwined with yours. You could feel the roughness around his palm from the constant grip on his bat.

-His eyes were bright, even in the dark. “That Spy? He’s a wuss, ya hear me? All talk. And next time we go up against him, we’re gonna send him back to his base pissin’ himself and cryin’ for his ma, cuz nobody messes with us, right?”

-You couldn’t help but crack a smile as he tried to rally you, in the carefree cocky way he always did. “Y-yeah…that’s right.”

-“You know it! We’ll win, we always do! And if he gets anywhere near you, I’ll whack his friggin’ lights out, so don’t you worry, doll! Not out there…and not here.”

-With this, he pulled you in by the hand and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a firm pat on the back. “You know I’d never let anybody hurt ya, right?”

-“Y-yeah…thank you. Sorry I got so scared.”

“Don’t gotta apologize for nothin’. He’s a creep, I don’t blame ya. But that’s all he is.”

-Your eyelids were now growing heavy, and a quiet yawn interrupted the conversation.

-“Sleep, (Y/N). I’m right here. Ain’t nothin’ gonna touch ya with me here.”

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of the things people wonder about themselves is how they’ll behave in an emergency. If we pick from fight, flight, or freeze I think we all secretly hope we’re a fight person. I know there’s times I haven’t panicked where I’m able to stand my ground. But I know in my heart that my real panic response is to freeze.

And the reason I know this was because one morning, before dating my beloved, I was living alone. I was renting a little condo and my rooms looked out into the parking lot. I’m a very slow morning person, it takes me a while to warm up my brain most mornings. But on the morning in question I was ripped into full and total consciousness by a woman screaming in the parking lot.

My eyes shot open and my heart hammered and I couldn’t move at all. I desperately wanted to leap up and run outside and all that happened was I broke into a cold and terrified sweat. Another scream rent the air and I started hyperventilating, terrified and confused, waiting to hear a commotion or another scream. There was no follow up. Not another scream, no sirens.

It took an hour to calm down through the panic attack and when I went outside there was nothing. No sign of struggle or blood or injury. No smashed car or tragedy. I even wondered if it had been a nightmare. I agonized over it and finally emailed the property manager asking if they knew what happened.

They responded to tell me a woman had been caught between a pole and her car and the car had started rolling. But she was fine, and everything turned out okay, a neighbor had been able to help. I was glad everything was okay but vaguely ashamed that the neighbor hadn’t been me.