#usually theres more buildup to his sensory overload and it starts out small but

[wisenedup]

@thearthurcallahan

Bill squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t know what the hell it was, but something nearby was squeaking, probably in the hot, wet breeze that kept rolling through the camp. He’d always hated the humidity. It made the heat suffocating and was like a gross, uncomfortable blanket all over his entire body.        He struggled to block out the sensations, unable to breathe. Every sound and smell and sight were driving him insane. The stink of whatever vegetables Pearson was putting in the stew was choking him; the wind in the trees, scattering the shade from the leaves, was making his vision spin and his eyes burn; the squeak was like something stabbing into his skull and clawing deep into his neck and shoulders, especially coupled with the shrill cry of some mystery bird.          His hand was flapping before he even realized it, almost like he was trying to shoo away a fly but there was nothing there, and his hand was going too fast.         “Fuck!” He stood sharply and the barrel he’d been sitting on went flying backwards, hitting the back of his legs. He swore again and punched the table, causing white hot pain to lance through his hand and up into his arm. “Goddamnit-”