#tw sensory overload

[sketchthetofu]

LETS GOOOO!!! 🎉🎉🎉

There is so much I want to say, though can’t find perfect words for… but I’ll try! First of all I am so happy I was able to create art for Frogman’s absolutely wonderful fic, which you should totally check out here!!! As well as be able to work with other amazing artists (one which also drew amazing art for this chapter, GO SEND SOME LOVE TO @relgnira !!!). I am SOOO glad I joined @hermitshippingbigbang , the people I have met there are ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL (go check out the other amazing fics) and really brought me out of my comfort zone which I 100% needed <3.

I think that’s all from me right now!! Hope you enjoy my first ever long comic I’ve drawn :D!

[gorgeousgreymatter-x]

CW: contains non-graphic smut, allusions to Steve’s sensory issues/PTSD. Also, this headcanon is based off personal experience, so I don’t wanna hear “UMM ACCCTUALLY THAT’S NOT WHAT X IS LIKE BECAUSE I —” blah blah I don’t fucking care lol

It hadn’t taken long for Eddie to realize it, how sensitive Steve is. See how easy it is for him to get overwhelmed — a mix of head trauma and a hefty dose of PTSD, and it’s not like Eddie can be surprised. How sometimes the lights get too bright or sounds get too loud. Sometimes even Eddie touching him gets to be too much, and Steve ends up flinching away from the tidal wave of sensation and stimuli threatening to drown him.

But not always. Sometimes, Eddie’s hands on him, it feels like that’s exactly what Steve needs. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t terrify Eddie a little when Steve comes to him when he’s like that, when Steve feels like spun glass, so fragile under his palms that the slightest bit of pressure might break him. Shatter him to pieces.

Sometimes it feels like that’s exactly what Steve wants.

The first time they have sex, after, when Eddie’s got Steve pulled in close against his chest, both of them still catching their breath, Steve…he shakes. Trembles in Eddie’s arms for what feels like an eternity, even though it’s probably only a minute or two. And up until then, Eddie’d been operating under the assumption that, you know, things had gone pretty well.

So naturally Eddie had panicked a little and assumed the worst – that he had fucked up, done something wrong, hurt Steve, somehow managed to blow up whatever this was between them before it ever really got the chance to start. But Steve had only sniffled and shaken his head at Eddie’s slightly frantic, more than frazzled, "Stevie. Baby…you okay?"

"I'm – it's okay. It's nothing bad. You just – s'a lot, Eds," Steve had whispered finally, hiding his soft smile like a secret pressed into Eddie's scarred chest. "You make me feel…a lot."

Eddie would have liked to say he'd understood at the time, but he hadn't. Not yet. Not quite. "A good a lot?" he'd asked, worrying nervously at his lip with his teeth.

"Definitely good."

Eddie worries less about it after that, the more he learns to read Steve, the more intimately familiar he becomes with his reactions. The different noises Steve makes when Eddie touches him a certain way. Touches him there, kisses him here. Counts the freckles on Steve's lower back with his tongue. How dark Steve's eyes look as he gazes up at Eddie when he's all needy and desperate and fucked out enough that he's as liquid as the melted ice cream Eddie’d sucked off Steve's upper lip on the hottest night of the summer just weeks ago. 

"Thought maybe it would get better, you know…easier," Eddie murmurs one night, running soothing fingertips up and down the ladder of Steve’s spine while Steve clings to him. Because maybe some part of him had kind of figured Steve would just get used to it. Like exposure therapy or some shit, but it happens like this still most times. Steve shivering like some frightened little animal, his fingernails hooked like anchors into Eddie's wrist like he and it are the only port in the storm.

Only he can see Steve's flushed cheeks, his drunken, dreamy-eyed expression. Knows without a doubt he's the farthest from frightened he can be. "I don't know…thought so too. But I think…I think it's because each time —" Steve starts before trailing off, sheepish. " — still feels like the first time."

Eddie thinks, pressing a wolfish (if not a little bit preening) grin into the back of Steve's neck, maybe he gets it now.

He finds doesn't really need to ask after that.

[minimujina]

ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[1kroolkroc]

More Jevil headcanons :D

Source: idk im bored lol

Also, flashing warning and volume warning for some of the videos I've linked

Jevil plays Maple Leaf Rag on the piano at breakneck speed, then transitions it into the fast part of Hungarian Rhapsody no. 2, then throws in a Freedom motif out of nowhere, and transitions it into Slider from Super Mario 64! Then as the cherry on top, he transitions it into a 100,000 note cover of UN Owen Was Her, and in the middle, finish it all off by turning it into the ending part of Battle Against A True Hero! On top of that, he plays an accordion with his feet, a triangle with his tail, the piano with one arm, the trumpet with another, and drums with a pedal

Keep in mind that he does all of this, both to troll the music snobs, and because he's bored, but mainly to troll the music snobs

He calls the Creation from Frankenstein "Frankenstein" on purpose

He intentionally pronounces and spells "mischievous" the exact same way you would "devious" ("Mischievious")

Jevil is a night owl and will stay up until the crack of dawn, then wake up at around 1 to 2 PM

He gets random bursts of energy at night and will pace around the entire dungeon cell, which is part of the reason he has a hard time sleeping at night

He's up to date on memes, but will misuse them on purpose just to see how many people he can make cringe, how hard he can embarrass them, and how quickly they beg him to stop

When he cries, his eyes burst with large waterfalls of tears, he hiccups and sobs very loudly, and his limbs flop like noodles! If you want to comfort him, the best way is to just be there beside him and let him rant

If Jevil doesn't get the joke, he'll crack his own joke instead; nobody has to know that he didn't get it, and nobody ever will know

He doesn't have much people to talk about nihilism with; in his experience, most people are usually either depressingly sad over life's lack of meaning or annoyingly angsty and edgy about it. He doesn't really get to talk to many people about the freedoms that this philosophy provides for him, because people are generally really obsessed with meaning and purpose, to the point where they can't imagine a life without either of those things

If a mind-reader tried to read Jevil's mind, they would immediately be bombarded with a mish-mash of several noises, all of which overlap each other and jump from one topic to an entirely different one, with absolutely no rhyme or reason to any of it, whatsoever! They'd experience a heavy dose of sensory overload and would never be able to make sense of it! Not even Jevil himself can tune out, slow down, or decipher the constant stream of chaos in his head

[cats-and-confusion]

New cooking show. All the judges have sensory issues and if you displease them or push them too far out of their comfort zone you get disqualified, if you make something they like so much they manage to eat the whole thing you get a prize.

Secret rule that if you make one of the judges feel bad about their sensory issues you get put in a taffy machine until your bones are dust

[mad4turtles]

hello hello! first things first, i’d like to say i love all of your fics !! your way of writing fluff is so sweet !!

i also come with a fic req (no pressure, of course) !! i’d love to see a body swap fic in your style !! but only if that’s something you’d like to write. either way, i hope you take care of yourself before anything else and have a great day !!

Ooookay, I had both a field day AND a headache from this, because it's SUCH a good prompt that I'm tempted to make a part 2, but I don't know enough about a specific disorder that's a common headcanon in the fandom to do it confidently, so, for now, this will stay as a one-shot. I hope you like it, though!

---

Leo swears someone out there is out to get them. It's the only explanation he can think of as he stares at himself in the bathroom mirror.

Donnie's deadpan face stares back at him.

They'd all woken up like this. Different rooms, different bodies and different faces staring back at them on every reflective surface. Leo won't deny that he'd screamed the loudest, lamenting the loss of his beautiful face. Donnie, stuck in Leo's body (of course, why not?), had immediately blamed Leo for reasons the (former)slider cannot fathom. Probably because it's easier than blaming himself, again, with no grounds to speak of.

It had been hilarious watching Raph try to be the big brother in Mikey's little body. It was less fun to watch Mikey nearly cry after breaking everything he touched with unchecked strength and a body three sizes bigger. 

(Makes Leo wonder just how much Raph has been holding back on them. He thinks of the Kraang and quickly decides it doesn't matter.)

What matters is Leo getting back into his own body before Donnie decides to punch himself in the face. 

Draxum had laughed for thirty minutes when they called but eventually promised to have something of an explanation and a cure by the end of the day. Splinter and April weren't much better. Casey Jr, bless him, was torn between genuine concern and exhaustion—“How many 'shenanigans' can you get up to in less than three stories?!” “Stop breaking the freakin' wall!”—which, fair enough. 

Cassandra had looked at them once and demanded that 'Orange Raph' fight her. “I want to test my might against the future Mystic Warrior! With Raphael's nature, it is sure to be a battle of the ages!”

Spoiler alert: it was not. Leo thinks they're still tangled up in Mikey's chains in the rafters. He wonders if April's gotten them down yet.

In the meantime, Leo decides to... explore? Is that the right word? It sounds gross, considering the circumstances, but that's essentially what he's doing. He's lived with Donnie all their lives, and this is the closest he's ever been (or ever really wanted to be) to his twin. Plus, he's a different species of turtle now. It's so freaking wild, and he can't help himself. He's curious.

He pokes and prods in ways his touch-sensitive brother will never usually allow on a good day—he touches his face (so square, but dude, what a wicked jawline!), his arms (Donnie's always been a little broader than Leo, stronger than he lets on), pulls at his fingers (there are burns and scars on the pads from welding and training, a tooth-mark from when Leo bit him when they were three and a few more from before Don had curbed the habit with other stims), his legs (Donnie what the hell have you done to your knees? Did the Avatar take away your bending?!) and lastly—

His hand hovers over the rim of Donnie's shell.

The soft shell has often been a no-go zone. Except for emergencies (and Leo, because it's a scientific fact that sliders ride soft-shells like a skateboard, and Donnie makes the best pillow). But otherwise, touching the shell unprompted would earn them a hiss at best, and a bite at worst. Leo's body has scars to prove it. 

But since the invasion, Donnie has been... particular about his shell. Since being ripped out of the Technodrome after being subjected to actual sensory hell (Leo will never forgive himself for putting his twin through that, whether he knew or not). He barely lets anyone near it now, not even Leo, unless he whines hard enough for a cuddle. Even then, that's only after the nightmares.

He'd promised not to mess around, fun as it would be. With Raph, he might've done—a smashing spree in some condemned building sounded goddamn cathartic—and with Mikey, he'd probably dip his toe in the overflowing pool of mystic energy in his baby brother's core, maybe learn a thing or two. 

But Donnie is different. And for the first time ever, he truly, truly, understands.

He leaves the shell alone and leaves the bathroom. He'll mess with his eyebrows instead.

~0o0~

“Nardo, I require assistance!”

Oh, thank god, something to do. Leo rolls off the beanbag, stretching until bones crack, yawing wide. Donnie had said not to mess around, but he said nothing against naps, and god did Donnie need one. “'s still so friggin' weird hearing my voice talkin' with your dead-ass tone, Dee,” he calls sleepily, lumbering towards the lab. Three hours was too long and yet not enough.

“It is about as jarring as hearing my voice using dumb slang and quoting Vines and seeing my own body wearing your skirts,” Donnie calls back, with Leo's voice, and yep, it's still freaking weird. About as weird as entering the lab to see him surrounded by tech, fingers flying and hands reaching with confidence as though he were born with it. 

Watching his body handle Donnie's machines so efficiently makes Leo's skin itch. Or maybe that's Donnie's body having a natural, visceral reaction to seeing anyone touch his shit. Which is fair, really. Leo got pissed seeing Donnie in his clothes in the mirror, ready to complain about the battle shell stretching his favourite sweater, only to remember. This whole thing sucks.

“So,” Leo drags the word out, plodding over to where Le—Donnie is sitting in the organized chaos of what looks to be another battle shell. “Whatcha need, Don-tron? Dearest twin? Brother whom I love very much and would be nothing without his incredible one-liners, his charm and wit, his beautiful—”

“Just because you're saying things with my voice doesn't make any of those statements true,” Donnie mutters, sliding the goggles off his face and climbing unsteadily to his feet. Must be disorienting since Leo is not only half a foot shorter than Don but carries a slightly heavier shell. He turns to Leo, hands fluttering at his sides—

“Shit, what did I do?” Leo yelps, hopping back a step.

“What? Nothing, nothing's wrong, why're you—?”

“Your—my—you got the flutters, my guy. Sending me a lot of mixed signals, and my—your body is telling me to react by biting, and I cannot stress enough how much I don't want that.”

“Wha—oh.” Donnie clenches his hands into fists. “I'm—I'm not angry with you, Leo, it's just—this whole situation is frustrating. I can't find an answer, Draxum hasn't shown up yet, I'm not in my own freaking body, and you—your body is so different, like, your head is clearer than mine and yet just as cluttered and messy, and I can touch and smell and eat things that I couldn't before because you're not as sensitive to it, but I also can't stand up straight without tripping over my own feet because of the differences in height and weight, and I'm constantly reaching for my battle shell only it's not there because I technically don't need it for the first time in my life and now I'm doing that—thing that you do where you ramble yourself into circles when you're upset because I'm working myself up because this is different I don't like different and oh look at that my hands are flapping am I about to take off? I do not know? I need—god, Leo, I need—”

Leo watches his eyes well up with tears, hands flapping as Donnie tries to articulate his needs. Needs he doesn't normally have in his own body because of his aversions. Donnie doesn't need touch all the time. Leo does, almost constantly, as much as Mikey does. The lack of it can drive him up the goddamn wall, which is why he always bugs his brothers, or Dad, or whoever's closest that wouldn't mind being used as a climbing frame or a pillow for a few minutes.

God, this must be hell on Donnie. Much like trying to put make-up on or wrap himself up in his favourite blanket had been actual torture for Leo. 

(Just like the thought of hugging makes Leo's—Donnie's skin crawl uncomfortably. Leo kind of wants to cry, too.)

But he swallows it down like he does every other bad thing and spreads his arms. Donnie looks up with Leo's teary eyes and stares. Leo smiles. “C'mon, big brother,” he says. He means it, but he also just wanted to hear Donnie say it.

Donnie twists his face into something half grateful and irritated and throws himself at Leo, squeezing tight enough to hurt even with Donnie's battle shell. Leo feels a shudder run through him—no no no no no get off get off get off nope nope nope do not TOUCH me—and forces his arms to wrap around Donnie's shoulders, squeezing back. 

Donnie sighs, breath hitching. “Oh my god,” he says, “I have never, in my life, needed this much physical contact. Oh my god. I think I actually get you, Nardo. And Mikey, too, I guess. All this because I needed a hug. Jeezy heckin' creezy, how do you live like this?”

Leo swallows hard. “Same way you live like everything burns when you don't want anyone touching you,” he says. There's a lump in his throat, suddenly, when it hits him. “... yet you do it anyway.”

Donnie nuzzles Leo's shoulder, seeking warmth and attention the way Leo has always done—needed to—and sending more sparks through Leo's—Donnie's—system. “... well, yeah,” he says. “I knew how bad it could get for you, but... I guess I never got how bad it could feel. And besides, you guys are usually great telling when I'm open for a cuddle or when I will literally kill you on sight if you touch me, so... wait, are you—?”

“I am on freaking fire, Donnie—”

“Oh my freaking god, let go then, you idiot, that is my body's way of telling me I'm about to have a meltdown—!” 

“But you need—need a hug—”

“Then I'll go to Raph or Mikey—whichever isn't still hanging from the ceiling, just let go! You are literally seconds from crashing, come on, I'll give you my special stuff from my special closet. Christ on a bike, Leon, you're as stressed as I am, a nap won't fix it, and an unwanted hug certainly won't—”

“Don, 's too loud—!”

“Shit, shit, sorry—here, put on my headphones and take the fluffy duck. This looks like it's gonna be a bad one, so get your—my ass in the closet. Get my whole ass in there, yep, good boy, get all nice and cosy, wow you ramble a lot when you're stressed out—”

“Hisssss—“

“Holy shit that's actually scary from a different perspective, I'll shut up now. You know the drill; I'll come to check on you after an hour. I'll grab the others for a turtle pile afterwards, I'm usually in the mood for that after a bad one, but—yeah, I'll go now, love you, don't bite or hit yourself, I'm gonna go glomp Mikey in Raph's body for a spine-breaking hug.”

Donnie shuts the closet door, and the darkness, surrounded by all of Donnie's 'special sensory things', is an instant relief.

Screw the T.V. tropes, Leo thinks as he breathes through fat tears and hiccuping sobs, rocking back and forth and squeezing the fluffy duck plush to quell the urge to hit himself. Body swaps suck. 

---

Reblogs are appreciated :3

Feel free to send me more prompts! &lt;3

[lostcitysystem]

Sensory overload tips cause I just had sensory overload and after 14 years of dealing with this I know some stuff:

(You probably know all of this but it can be good to keep a reminder in case your brain tends to freeze up during an overload- also everyone is different and this is just what helps me)

Go into a dim or dark room

Remove sound stimuli by turning off phone alerts, putting on noise cancelling headphones/ear defenders and distancing yourself from people talking/music playing

Take off any clothes that may be making you uncomfortable

Take deep, slow breaths, focusing on being calm and lowering your heart rate/brain activity

Try to add some weight to your body by piling on pillows/duvets or using weighted blankets/plushies (if you find it helpful)

Get to your ideal temperature by removing layers or adding them (I prefer the cold so I usually take off clothes and lie on the floor or my bed without the bedding)

Stim if you’d like to, it’s not doing you any harm to get energy out of your body (just be aware of self-harm stims that can aggravate your sensory overload, even if they feel good in the moment)

Engage in special interests- watch your favourite show, hug a plush related to your spin, listen to music related to your spin etc

Drink a glass cold glass of fluid or have a hot drink (if you’d like)

Talk to a trusted friend or loved one, they may be able to help calm you down

Try eating a safe food or chewing some gum, it can be a good stim and will likely calm your nervous system (in more severe sensory overload, food can be overwhelming though)

Stay in this calm space you’ve created for however long you need to, you’re doing really well and there’s no pressure to come out and socialise with others or do anything that could relapse the sensory overload

Finally (after the sensory overload has ceased), if you haven’t already, gather resources in a box, drawer, bag etc to help you in the event of another overload- some good options are stim toys, ear plugs/defenders, a list of things you find calming, printed online articles about sensory overload and how to calm it and things related to your special interest(s)

I hope this was helpful and I know it was probably stuff you’ve heard before but I didn’t know about a lot of this stuff until years after I first started having sensory overload and had to learn it from experience.

I hope you’re doing okay and have a lovely day, you’re doing the very best you can and I’m proud of you.

Feel free to add on other tips if you have them! This is not a comprehensive list and more insights are useful!

[ace-aro-sasha-nein]

Kelvin had a long day

[cavernclaw]

nightheart reminds me of the boys at my catholic middle school that would laugh whenever i had a panic attack and mock me when i was suffering from sensory overload

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Had a meltdown today, sensory overload at a loud event with flashing lights and people everywhere, and it was an unexpected event too :/

Im feeling better now and i think i handled it well, but I hate being autistic sometimes. I love it. But. Yeah, sometimes.

[deadlydelicious]

like 90% of the time I lead a life that means I can accommodate my Autism so well to the point of not even noticing it causing me issues.

but all it takes is one house guest with no self awareness and suddenly i'm a stimming flinching mess. like i have never been so overwhelmed before

i guess i also never realized just how ND 'friendly' my house and family is until suddenly my aunt and uncle are here and its just like blinding how much they have never had to think about accommodating kids with sensory and socialization issues, where as my parents raised two (and likely my dad is himself)

just leaving stinking food out on the top of the counter (which is huge for me because i am massively sensitive to strong food smells)

playing the radio CONSTANTLY off their phones so there's just this awful tiny hum of music all the time just scraping over me.

and they just CONSTANTLY talk at a shouting level and make noise and sing along to the radio and ask questions and it literally is stressing me out to the point of tears. i'm sat here crying from stress. its been 2 days. they are so inconsiderate, and my parents just let them

and i can't say anything about it because then i'm the bitch, even though they're the ones who have invaded my home and made it a sensory minefield

and even if i did they'd probably just laugh and say i'm to sensitive in that awful way Neurotypicals do when they try to turn you into a joke so they can police your behavior ad remind you you're weird

i'm not over sensitive, i'm not weird, i'm autistic and you're in my fucking house trampling over all my boundaries

[impossiblesoul13]

When you want everyone to shut the fuck up but you can't tell them so you run to the toilet

[the-great-donatello]

*leaves after making sure Donnie has noticed canceling headphones fl go help with digging Lep out of rubble*

.

[lostcitysystem]

Don’t want to make this into a big deal or anything but as an autistic person, 99% of the sensory overload I get from public transport is people blaring TikTok from their phone. The repetitive sounds and just awful audio quality feel like nails on a chalk board.

I don’t like wearing ear phones generally because of sensory issues but I’ll never play anything out loud intentionally because I know I’m on the same bus/train etc as people that have had 12 hour shifts or have had to look after screaming kids all day or who just want peace and quiet.

Just be considerate of others.

i'm literally begging people to relearn how to use earbuds and headphones. i don't wanna hear your fucking tiktok while im waiting for my flight.

[genderful-ghoul]

Oh my gods how awesome would it be to vibrationally feel Square Hammer at a live performance (without getting sensory overload so bad you shut down for 16 months)

The only things I remember from Square Hammer at the ritual I attended was being so somatically traumatized I couldn’t even cry and my brain begging to get out but my body was paralyzed, but in an ideal accommodating show being able to actually stim to Square Hammer? 😍

[the11tailedwrites]

Day 3: Solitary Confinement

Character(s): Crow, Lord Saladin, Glint, Anastasia Romanov

A member of House Romanov kidnaps and tortures The Crow.

Crow struggled uselessly against the woman’s hold as she dragged him through ancient halls. He could feel Glint, hidden within his light, panicking, but there was nothing the ghost could do but watch as his guardian was dragged away.

The woman didn’t say a word as she led Crow into a white padded room. Crow could see the chains that hung from the ceiling and thrashed against her hold. The woman, unbothered by his struggling, chained him up with no issues. Crow squirmed against the chains pinning his arms behind him and it was then he realized they didn’t make a sound. He shouted but he heard nothing. Panic began to set in and Crow saw the woman smile as she pulled out a thick metal band. She placed it over his eyes and Crow saw nothing. Panic filled him as the silence rang in his ears. He felt Glint try to reassure him, gently pressing up against his light, but it did nothing to help. He thrashed, screamed, shouted and pleaded, but he wasn’t even sure if he actually was. He could hear nothing. No rattling of the chains, no breathing, nothing. Just pure silence and the deafening screaming it caused. Was he crying? He must be, but he had no way of telling because he could feel nothing. No coldness of the chains or the discomfort of the blindfold. He was completely and totally deprived of all of his senses.

Crow had no idea how long he had been made to stand in that silence. The only reason he hadn’t gone mad was because of Glint. While Glint couldn’t say anything because Crow couldn’t hear him, he could still push feelings to him. It had just barely been enough.

Then suddenly Crow felt and heard everything and he screamed. He screamed in pain from being forced to stand for so long, he screamed in agony as the rattling of the chains echoed in his ears and he howled as his skin burned with the sensation of the chains, of his clothes, of the blindfold and of his tears. Every little movement set waves of pain through his body, every sound echoed in his head and every little sensation drove him mad. His screams were so loud and he willed himself to stop, but it did little to help.

Glint could do nothing now. Being silent was the only way to help Crow.

At some point, the blindfold fell off and the blinding white of the room forced Crow to close his eyes, hyper aware of the feeling of his eyelids closing and pressing against each other.

More time passed but Crow wasn’t sure how much. The woman was back. She was dragging him along. When had they left that room? It was suddenly very cold and he whimpered. The woman smiled at him.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” she said

She was gone. He was alone. It was cold.

“Hold on, Crow,” whispered Glint, “I’ve called Lord Saladin, we’re on Felwinter peak so he should get here fast,”

Crow didn’t complain, too hurt to really care. Maybe Lord Saladin would kill him. He hoped he would, maybe that would make the pain go away.

There was a figure in his view now. He could see wolves with him. That had to be Lord Saladin. He got closer as Crow’s vision got darker. Saladin must have spotted him because he broke into a run. Crow blacked out before Saladin could reach him.

Saladin had been worried when he got the communication from Glint begging for help. As he walked through the snow of Felwinter peak, he spotted a form lying in the snow. Crow.

The Awoken Guardian was almost completely covered in snow, barely conscious. Saladin broke into a run, his wolves picking up his urgency and rushed with him. By the time Saladin reached Crow, he was unconscious. Saladin picked Crow up and the young Risen moaned in pain, whimpering pitifully.

“Be careful,” whispered Glint, “That woman used sensory deprivation to torture him and then whatever is the opposite of sensory deprivation,”

Saladin nodded and transmatted back to the Iron Temple. He placed Crow onto the nearest flat and elevated surface and removed his cloak and draped it over the unconscious man.

“Any other injuries?” he asked Glint

“No,” responded the ghost, hovering over his guardian

Saladin looked down at Crow as he slept and gently brushed the hair out of his face.

“Keep an eye on him and comm me if his condition gets worse,” said Saladin before rising.

“Yes, sir,” said Glint.

Saladin disappeared deeper into the temple, his mind a whirl storm of thought.

Who had attacked Crow?