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#Tw panic attack
cupcakeslushie · 2 months
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i love the donnie and timothy content 🥺 but now it’s getting me to wonder about the love language between leo and usagi and how they show affection toward each other
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They show affection by basically being ride or die for each other lol. Their love language is…battle. Their first kiss was after a exhausting fight with the Foot, where they kicked absolute ass. They watch each other’s backs no matter what.
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unboundprompts · 7 months
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If you’re still doing request, is it OK if you either
Describe writing a panic attack?
Or
Describe someone who has gray eyes?
-> a link for gray eye descriptions: x
How to Write a Panic Attack
Physical Symptoms of a Panic Attack:
pounding or racing heart
sweating
chills
trembling
difficulty breathing
weakness or dizziness
tingly or numb hands
chest pain
stomach pain or nausea
feeling lightheaded
tense muscles
dry mouth
constriction in the chest
feeling like they're being choked
Other Symptoms:
heightened vigilance for danger and physical symptoms
anxious and irrational thinking
a strong feeling of dread, danger or foreboding
fear of going mad, losing control, or dying
feelings of unreality and detachment from the environment
Triggers for a Panic Attack:
something unexpected (ex: a phone call)
a reminder (objects, smells, locations, specific phrases, etc. that can be tied back to a traumatic experience)
stress (from work, a relationship, family, etc. that has been building up)
silence (ex: being alone in a quiet room. The silence can amplify a sense of isolation)
flashbacks (a trigger that causes the person to flash back to a traumatic memory)
out of nowhere (sometimes panic attacks just get triggered by seemingly nothing)
Writing Prompts:
-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.
He couldn't breathe. Oh God, he couldn't breathe and he was going to die.
She knew the panic was building up, but it crashed over her like a tsunami that swept her off her feet. The pull threatened to pull her out to sea and it was all-consuming.
They felt the panic begin to wrap its arms around them like a shadow.
"Is it okay if I hold your hand?"
"Don't touch me-- don't touch me!"
Her mind was running at a million miles a second but she couldn't pinpoint a single thought.
"It's okay. You're safe."
An icy hand had reached through their ribcage and was squeezing their heart. They couldn't breathe and they didn't know what to do to regain their breath.
"My chest hurts. It hurts."
"I can't!"
They were a crumpled heap, stowed away in the corner as tears streamed down their face.
She felt like she was on a boat out at sea, the room swaying and adding to the nausea that was washing over her.
He felt like he was having a heart attack.
They gasped for air but each breath felt shallower than the last.
She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, beating like a panicked drum to the rhythm of her fear.
He felt like he was standing on the edge of a building.
They couldn't move. It was like someone was holding down their limbs, the panic rendering them utterly frozen.
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wolfnanaki · 1 year
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Puss in Boots: The Last Wish | Puss’s Panic Attack
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downbadf0rficppl · 2 months
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someone's there
Bucky x F!Reader
Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.
Word Count: 2.5K
Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack
Repost
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You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.
You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.
Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.
And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.
The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.
You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.
She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"
Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.
Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.
You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.
Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.
The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.
The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.
Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.
The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.
You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.
The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.
"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.
The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.
"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.
You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.
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By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.
You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.
But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.
To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.
You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.
You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.
As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.
Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.
He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.
You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.
You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.
He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.
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You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.
It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.
The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.
You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.
You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.
"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.
"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.
"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.
"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."
"The pizza place?"
"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."
You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.
"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.
"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.
"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."
"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.
The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.
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"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."
June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.
Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.
Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.
You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.
Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.
A teenager was on the phone with the police.
You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.
The door swung open, letting in a draft.
Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.
Sirens.
"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.
A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.
"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.
You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.
"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.
"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.
You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.
You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.
"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"
He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."
You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.
"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.
"Take me home, Buck."
fin.
buy me a coffee
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factual-fantasy · 3 months
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I wanted to draw something that showed what happens when Glamrock Spring and Fred are separated. And I was SOOO CLOSE to keeping it serious... but then the savage corrupted Moon idea came to mind and I couldn't not draw it XDD
Now don't worry! They got reunited shortly after.. XDD
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Though now that I got the funny out, I'm tempted to make an actually serious comic about them being separated.. 🤔
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conspicuous-clown-car · 4 months
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pushing boundaries
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goldenjuniper · 2 months
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hold on to each other
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ayyy-imma-ninja · 4 months
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oh. oH. OHHH !!!!! reference to that old post in which you said sun picks apart cotton balls when hes stressed so he doesnt mess up his rays ??? very nice. we love slowly tying in more lore. i am in love w your comic rn megmeg. seriously. you are incredible :D
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good callback ;)
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itadoripng · 11 months
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kakashi has what appears to be multiple panic attacks throughout the show, and he takes the same stance every single time, and i only recently noticed this, so i wanted to point it out bc idk if anyone else has noticed this. you can visbily see his shoulders quickly rising and falling, meaning he is breathing quite heavily.
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1st screenshot: After Gai uses the 8th gate, and Kakashi presumes he did not survive the action
2nd screenshot: Kakashi choking up while using Chidori soon after the incident with Rin
3rd screenshot: Obito takes Kaguya's rod to the stomach and begins to fall apart
4th screenshot: Soon after Kakashi exited the 72 hour genjutsu from Itachi
(in the second screenshot, that was a canon panic attack, as we see his eyesight get blurry and stuff, but the other three are me simply implying with context clues such as his heavy breathing.)
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nyrandrea · 6 months
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Everything's Fine
As you try to deal with everything that has been thrown at you so early into your journey: forced leadership, mindflayer tadpoles and taking on everybody's personal problems, it all just gets a bit too much for you.
(Takes place during Act 1)
Word Count - 3.5k
Also available to read here on AO3!
Enjoy!
xxx
You felt your patience starting to wear incredibly thin when you realised Astarion had been staring at you for over five minutes now. 
Not directly, he would never be so conspicuous—at least, not intentionally— but you kept catching those fleeting glances he was throwing your way; the corners of his red eyes crinkling every so often before returning to whatever book he was pretending to read. It wasn’t one of those charming, smouldering gazes he would sometimes give you after a night of feeding, asking if you were alright, knowing full-well that your answer was a resounding ‘I’m fine’, and that you would provide for him again soon. 
No, what he was doing right now—very carefully—was scanning you, studying you,  judging you. It was as if he was trying to leer right through to your very soul. 
You almost had half a mind to stomp over to his tent and demand what his problem was, but there were other unfortunate issues to contend with. 
Namely Shadowheart and Lae'zel. 
“I already told you that the artefact is my responsibility,” Shadowheart said, her aloof demeanour and confident tone betrayed by the hand hovering over the hilt of her dagger. “This way it will protect us all, I thought we had already established that!” 
“We have established nothing,” Lae’zel hissed back. “We only agreed not to slit each other’s throats in the night, though...,” she grimaced. “I still have no reason to trust that you will not try again.” 
“At least there’s still some sense in that bullish head of yours.” 
“Tsk!” Lae’zel spat at Shadowheart’s feet, much to the latter’s disgust as she recoiled back. “However, the matter still stands that the relic you hold onto belongs to my people. Therefore, it should be in my possession!” 
The cleric sneered. “I would sooner slit my own throat.” 
“Then go right ahead. Nobody will stop you.” 
Rubbing at your temples to try and ease the incoming migraine that, for once, was not caused by the mindflayer parasite living rent-free in your head, you decided to step in-between the two women, not really caring about risking a gutting from their trigger-happy blades. 
“C’mon, we’re not seriously having this fight again?” You huff incredulously, the question already sounding stupid as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course they were having this fight again. They had it yesterday, and the day before that, and they were probably going to have it tomorrow as well. 
“We are, as it happens,” Shadowheart replied, her eyes flickering briefly to you before narrowing forward again. “Because this savage bitch won’t leave me alone!” 
Lae’zel bared her teeth in a cruel grin. “Better to be that than a revrykal of Shar.” 
At the mention of her Goddess’s name, Shadowheart practically lunged herself towards Lae’zel with an enraged scream, her dagger raised high with the intention of plunging it straight into the githyanki’s chest, who in turn raised her shield to protect herself. In that moment, you were nothing to them but a speck of dust in the wind. 
It wasn’t until your hand shot up in a blind panic when Shadowheart realised what she was doing, forcing her to suddenly pull back to avoid injuring you, only a moment too late as her knife slashed the palm of your hand. Blood sprayed across the ground as your short but pained cry echoed throughout the camp. 
“Oh Gods...” Shadowheart muttered as everyone was suddenly on their feet and crowded around the three of you in a matter of moments. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t... mean to...!” 
“What? Attempt to kill our leader in cold blood?” Lae’zel muttered as she took your trembling hand to examine it, you only stared ahead as the shock took a moment to wear off. You didn’t even register her uncharacteristically gentle touch as she turned your palm up. “Only a flesh wound, you will live.” 
“Still,” Astarion piped up from behind. “Perhaps it would be best to get that dressed up lest you attract any...*ahem* unsavoury visitors.” 
“It would seem we already have,” Lae’zel replied, to which the vampire put a hand up to his chest in mock offence. 
“Lae’zel, you depreciate me,” he pouted. “I’m hurt.” 
Astarion’s sudden cold grasp on your wrist startled you as he decided to examine the cut himself in a much less gentle manner than Lae’zel. “Not that I would be able to get much from this anyway, even if I tried.” 
You were slightly worried that he was pondering the idea the longer he stared at the wound; you could practically see him drooling. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he snapped out of his daze. 
“Well, we should probably get this cleaned up anyhow,” he finally said. “To avoid infection and whatnot.” 
“...You’re not gonna lick it clean, are you?” Karlach asked with a grimace. 
“Of course not!” Astarion bit back, much more flustered this time. “I’m not some savage beast, you know.” 
“That’s... debatable,” Gale piped in. 
“Well! It’s lovely to know that you all think so little of me; the feeling is very much mutual,” Astarion said with a fake smile before taking you by the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’ll have to nurse this poor wounded soul, as well as my pride.” 
He started guiding you away from the rest of the group, you only allowed him to because the whole situation had you in a bit of a daze, but not before Shadowheart tried to get in another “I’m... I’m sorry.” 
“It’s... I’m fine,” you replied with whatever level of composure you could muster up with a smile in a small attempt to reassure her before allowing yourself to be led towards Astarion’s tent. Your words seemed to satisfy her as Shadowheart returned a sorrowful but grateful nod, though her expression turned sour when Karlach stepped between her and Lae’zel. 
“Alright now, ladies, what do you two say we let out our pent-up aggression towards each other in a healthier and less murder-y way, huh?” The tiefling suggested before holding up her finger to not let the other two get a word in edgewise. “And before you ask, I will not be taking no for an answer.” 
A small smile graced your lips at Karlach’s enthusiastic yet surprisingly pragmatic way of taking charge, and it seemed to be working as Shadowheart and—to your utter astonishment—Lae’zel agreed to whatever training regimen she had in store for them.  
‘Perhaps Karlach should take over as leader...’  
The idea was extinguished as soon as it had entered your mind, replaced with thoughts of the tiefling messing everything up, of her killing you in your sleep, that you shouldn’t trust her to lead your party. The only one who should have any authority over these subordinates is you. Only you are worthy. 
The voice quieted down after a few moments, leaving you only with a pounding head—just another one of the many wonderful side-effects of the parasite. 
You didn’t take any heed of whatever thoughts the tadpole forced upon you. You knew that Karlach would never hurt you, or any of the others for that matter—not by choice, anyway. However, those flashes of betrayal and blood were starting to wear you down a bit, especially with the lack of sleep; the very notion of it had been non-existent since you escaped the nautiloid and accepted the leadership that everyone had practically forced upon you. 
You weren’t exactly a natural-born leader; hell, you barely managed to keep yourself alive never mind a whole group of people. 
“That’s going to need stitches,” Astarion said as he observed your hand more closely now that the two of you were in the privacy of his tent. Heat flushed around your cheeks at how close the two of you were. Flashes of that night you had shared a bed—or well, the forest floor—came to mind, and you hated how flustered it made you. It was a one-night stand, a bit of fun to ease the stress of adventuring; clearly it meant nothing. At least... that was what you were made to feel. 
What had been a night of passion for you, had been the same old dance for him. 
“Take a seat there,” Astarion’s said, his voice cutting through your thoughts like a knife. “I should have a needle around here, somewhere.” 
“You know how to sew?” You asked, settling down on a cushioned stool. 
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, and a sting of guilt surged in your chest. “How do you think I’ve kept these clothes looking so good for over two hundred years? Certainly not by magic.” 
“Why not just buy new clothes?” 
Your prodding seemed to hit a nerve as he paused for a moment. 
“Why waste the coin?” He finally replied, sounding a little dejected. 
“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip as you tried to think of a way to quickly rectify your carelessness. “You do look great, by the way—y-your clothes, I mean,” embarrassment takes over as you trip over your own words. “The gold embroidery is um *cough * it’s nice.” 
Astarion seems amused at your inability to grasp basic English as he chuckles, the sound deep and almost musical. “Why thank you, darling. I’m glad someone around here appreciates the finer details.” 
The vampire kneels next to you and threads the needle before gesturing for you to hold out your hand. “It has been a while so... let’s just hope I’m not too rusty, hm?” 
Those words don’t instil a great deal of confidence within you, but you won’t allow it to show, trusting in him to get the job done. If you ended up getting sepsis, well... Withers was always on stand-by. 
“Now, hold still,” Astarion instructed. “This may sting a little.” 
You nodded, only wincing a little when he made the first stitch, the pain became more bearable as you watched him focus with the kind of laser-like precision that only came with a practiced hand; it made you wonder how many times he had done this. His methodical movements almost lulled you into a sort of relaxed trance, had your mind have not been working overtime, you honestly might have fallen asleep: Gods know you could have done with a bit of shut eye. 
Ever since the ship crashed, your problems just seemed to keep piling on top of each other: Lae’zel was hellbent on getting to that githyanki creche, and there was the matter of Karlach’s engine, Gale was close to blowing to kingdom-come if he didn’t get another magical item to consume soon, Astarion would probably need another feeding at some point, not to mention the dog, Scratch, and the owlbear cub who had started hanging around the camp. A dog was one thing but how much did owlbears need to eat?  
It was fine, you reassured yourself. Everything would be fine. 
“There we go,” Astarion said, relinquishing your hand back, freshly stitched and cleaned. The pain was still there, dull and throbbing, but it wasn’t anything a quick healing spell couldn’t fix. 
“Not my best work but it will just have to do for now,” he huffs, as if he was annoyed with himself. “You’ll have to excuse the sloppy stitching, it’s... been a while.” 
“It’s beautiful work,” you can’t help but admire the stitching; it was flawless. “Thank you, Astarion.” 
His gaze remains on you for a moment, as if he were expecting some sort of quip or punchline, and his eyes widen slightly when he realises you’re being genuine. 
“I... uh... you...?” He pauses and squints; still nothing. “You are... most certainly welcome.” 
You raise an eyebrow; did he really think so lowly of you that he believed you simply weren’t capable of a simple 'thank you'? Or was it himself that he had no confidence in? Your thoughts turn to when you asked him about how he came about becoming a vampire. Astarion kept most of his history closed off from you but told you just enough to let you know that this ‘Cazador’ fellow had treated him poorly. Belittled him. Enslaved him. 
You couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible it must have been; no wonder he didn’t trust anyone. 
A part of you wanted to pry into his thoughts, to let him know that you were here for him should he ever want to talk, but a new figure entered the tent, startling you into closing your mouth. 
“Hello!” Gale cheerily greeted with a smile, his eyes latching onto you immediately. “How are we feeling?” 
“Oh, we’re feeling quite dandy, thank you,” Astarion interjected with a frown. “You didn’t think to knock before deciding just to barge in?” 
“Well, given the materialistic structure of this very sound establishment, I think you’ll find it’s a little difficult to uh...” Gale trailed off, attempting to rap the tent flap to no avail. “...knock on.” 
“Then why not just knock on the wooden beams with that...” The vampire waved lazily towards Gale’s staff. “Very large stick of yours.” 
“Duly noted, but I think we’re getting a bit off track here,” the wizard said before turning to you. “I need a word.” 
You were taken aback slightly by his bluntness, and you couldn’t help but notice the almost pained way he was wringing his hands and how his eyebrows subtly twitched. He looked incredibly... uncomfortable. 
His hand hovered over his chest briefly, just above the mark that glowed whenever he consumed magic. 
Shit. Was it that time already? But hadn’t you given him something only yesterday? Or had it been a few days now? With recent events, it was hard to keep track of the time anymore; day and night just meshed into one big messy blur. 
Judging by your panicked look, Gale held up his hands in a placating manner. “Now, I know you’ve had a lot on your plate recently but this little uh... situation of mine is growing quite dire again so... if you could just relinquish whatever magical artefact you have, then all will be fine and dandy.” 
“I... don’t have anything on me at the moment.” 
Gale’s expression dropped. “Come now, you must have picked up something along the way, surely?” 
You grimaced. 
“In a dungeon? Along the road? What about that little goblin camp you rampaged through recently?” 
His sudden passive-aggressiveness made you feel uneasy. 
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Astarion cut in, folding his arms. “But we were a bit preoccupied with fighting for our lives to be on the lookout for any magic boots for you to chew on.” 
Gale chuckled dryly and drew the vampire a dirty look. “I don’t think you quite understand the gravity of what might very well happen if I don’t find something to contain the beast within me very soon- “ 
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, darling.” 
“This isn’t a joking matter!” 
“Ugh! Just shut up!” You snapped. “I do get it, Gale. Because you remind me Every. Damn. Day. About this big, scary, mystery catastrophe that might happen without actually explaining anything about it! A bit of context would go a long way!” 
Gale’s hurt wince suddenly had your stomach churning in guilt; you shouldn’t be snapping at people; you were better than that. 
“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologised. “As soon as we’re out on the road again, I’ll make it our priority to look for an artefact for you, alright? You have my word.” 
Astarion scowled and Gale forced a smile; his lips too strained for it to be genuine. It seemed like you couldn’t please anyone today. 
“That’s all I can ask for, and I promise... all will be revealed soon, otherwise the tadpoles will be the least of our worries.” 
When Gale left, you plopped down to the ground and took ragged breaths to calm your nerves, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt as you nestled your injured hand in your lap. Had Gale only checked in on you so he could ask you for a magic item in return? Was he really that desperate? He must have been, seeing as you had completely forgotten about his predicament. 
What kind of leader were you? 
“You know, you can’t go making promises all willy-nilly like that,” Astarion said. “We have enough problems as it is without having to worry about...” 
His chastising faded into white noise as you grasped your head, the sting of your fingers curling and tugging through unkempt hair was just enough to distract from the pounding that came from within your brain. The ability to focus was suddenly lost to you as your heart raced, and dark emotions swirled within your chest like a wild tornado; it was tempting to let them sweep you away, to ride the waves into the unknown. To be anywhere but here without anyone depending on you for so, so much.  
“Hello?” Astarion drawled. “Are you even listening to- Darling...?” 
He moved closer to you; his steps measured and deliberate as he lowered himself down next to you, still allowing you enough space while being close enough to reach out a hand to your trembling shoulder, his touch cold yet oddly comforting. 
“Hey,” he spoke in a soothing, soft tone, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with unwavering support. “I’m right here with you, you’re safe, just breathe along with me, alright?” 
You nodded, albeit shakily, and tried to mirror his calm, measured breaths, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, attempting to regain control over your racing heart. 
Astarion’s voice never wavered as your frantic gasps slowly started to synchronise with his calm breathing. “I know things are tough right now, but these feelings will soon pass. You’re stronger than you think, darling.” 
He continued to gently rub your back, tracing comforting circles with his fingertips, a rhythm that matched the cadence of your breath. Your hands slowly unlatched from your hair as you felt Astarion’s reassuring presence and honeyed words grounding you. 
“There we go, you’re regaining control,” he encouraged softly. “Now, I’m going to get you a glass of water, will you be alright for a moment?” 
You nodded again, and with a quick squeeze of your shoulder, he left. As your panic attack started to ebb, your breathing evened and your heart slowed as you felt yourself returning to the present moment, the tension that had your body rigid starting to ease. 
Astarion was back by your side within moments, gently pushing a glass into your hand and helping you lift it to your lips for a small sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat. 
“How do you feel?” 
“I’m-” 
“And don’t you dare say ‘I’m fine��,” he scowled. "Because we both know you’re clearly not.” 
You racked your brain to try and find a way to explain that you were okay and that this was just a small moment of weakness, a blip in the road, that there was nothing to worry about and you had it all figured out. 
But the words never came, instead you draw your knees up and hug them close to your chest as if to hide away from his piercing gaze. 
Astarion lingers by your side for a moment, his expression unreadable. 
“Would you like to stay in here for a while?” 
Unable to find the energy to speak, you simply nod. 
“Then come on, scooch over.” 
As you shuffle slightly to the side, Astarion sits down next to you, draping an arm over your shoulder and allowing you to settle your head into his side and cling to his shirt in a way that a child might cling to their mother. 
“...I’m sorry." 
From the corner of your eye, you could see Astarion’s expression soften as he waved a nonchalant hand. “Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for, dear. If anything, I should be the one apologising, who knew being in my mere presence would be so breathtaking?” 
You managed a small chuckle at that. 
“But in all seriousness,” he continued. “I know a thing or two about putting on a façade and... well...,” he paused. “Just... know that if you ever want to talk, I’m all pointy ears.” 
You hum in acknowledgement, though you can tell by his undertone that he’s being disingenuous, kindness wasn’t exactly his forte after all, but you appreciated the attempt all the same. But you were just content to sit in his arms for a while, and he seemed pleased enough with the silence. So, for now, you inhale the comforting aroma of bergamot, rosemary and brandy, letting yourself get lost in his comforting presence. 
And exhale. 
xxx
Hellooooo Baldur's Gate 3 has me in a chokehold and the brainrot is real. I'm only in Act 1 hence why this fic takes place so early in the game but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. Apologies for any inconsistencies :'3 Let me know what y'all think!
*Edit - since this has been pretty well received, I've opened up requests! Pop me an ask if you would like one :)
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clanwarrior-tumbly · 20 days
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OH BIG BRAIN IDEA-
Reverse Puss In Boots panic attack scene with Reader calming Dogday down from a panic attack, 'cause this case it's the dog that needs comforting-
"[Y/n]! Come quickly! Something's wrong with Dogday!"
Pausing in your repairs of Kissy's arm, you made sure to cut the thread before giving her an apologetic look. Fortunately, she seemed to understand that you needed to heed Poppy's call right away, and so you followed the little doll into the next room over.
There, Dogday was resting...although at this moment he was very much doing the opposite.
He was slumped against the wall, out of the makeshift dogbed you and Kissy put together for him, a hand clutching his chest--but it kept heaving, rapidly rising and falling with each labored breath.
His white pupils were completely gone, not a shred of light to be found within his sockets, and that was very alarming.
Did he see something?
Did an intruder try to get in?
While Poppy couldn't guarantee any place in the factory was safe, she did mention this area was a good place to hunker down, rest, and plan your next move against the Prototype.
But if that's the case...then what was going on with him?
You needed to find out fast.
"Dogday...what's wrong..??!"
Even though he could hear you and see you kneeling in front of him, concern written all over your face, he simply couldn't answer. He couldn't even keep his focus on you, as a whirlwind of terror and panic clouded his mind.
The only thing he could do was paw at his chest, unable to make sense of why his heart refused to stop pounding, as though it was trying to break free.
Or maybe..
It was a little Smiling Critter who stowed away inside him, trying to get out....
The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.
"I don't know what happened.." Poppy murmured to you, shaking her head. "I swear he was fine a second ago! Y-You think his organs might be shutting down? Or his hunger is-?"
"No, I know exactly what's wrong." You calmly answered, much to her bewilderment.
But before she could question you further, you moved over to Dogday's side before hugging him around the torso, squishing your cheek against his chest the moment he took his paws off of it.
And you simply waited.
The little doll had no idea how this was helping him, although she soon realized his breaths were finally starting to slow. His white pupils flickered back to life, looking down and seeing you embrace him without any regard to your own safety.
Somehow..you provided him with such a comforting weight that drowned out his panicked thoughts.
One of his trembling paws eventually came to rest atop your head, and he slowly began to pet you much like a human would pet a dog: gentle, ensuring he wasn't too rough.
After a few more moments passed, you felt his breaths even out to the point where his chest wasn't heaving like before, and he placed his paw on your back.
Finally, he spoke.
"A-Angel...thank you..I..don't know what happened.."
"It's okay." You sat up to look at him, seeing the tears threatening to spill from his sockets. "You were just having a panic attack. But it's over..you did great."
"Is..that what it was?" He murmured, confused.
"That's all it was. Do you remember what led to it?"
"...'m not sure. I was..just thinking about Catnap, and the Prototype, and suddenly I felt this strange tightness in my chest. Thought somethin' was wrong with my lungs...a-and then the room just started spinning. Next thing I knew, I...I-I couldn't breathe. I couldn't talk to Poppy or you, angel. Thought one of those wretched things was trying to eat me from the inside out. B-But..that was just all in my head, right? I'm not...nothing was-?"
"I made sure none snuck inside when I was fixing you up. You're safe from them." Taking one of his paws into your hands, you smiled, seeing Kissy walk into the room. "Catnap and the Prototype have been on all of our minds lately, and it's been...a stressful few hours."
"...I didn't mean to scare you all..usually it's me who calms people down, ya know?" He sighed quietly, still feeling guilty. "You sure I'm not going to slow you down? Because if I have another attack...i-it could be at the worst time, and then-"
"Then I'll help you through it. I made a promise to get you all out of here, and I'm sticking by that." You reassured.
Dogday looked surprised, but he relaxed his shoulders in relief, tail wagging along the floor. "Thank you, angel.."
He had his doubts before, about whether saving him from the Playhouse was more trouble than it's worth.
But now he knows you're in this for the long run, ready to help guide him out of the darkness.
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68spidey · 7 months
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Some traumatized turtles getting the Service Dog experience.
Blue's (@weregreatatcrime's rat!!) service dog Cheese can sense that these men are... a bit fucked up. Helped Don get some GOOD SLEEP for once and helped Leo work through a nasty panic episode. What a good bupper snup
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Hey! I’m back with a request!
So, imagine witch reader goes to a goetia party ( lu-Lu asked her to for him) and she brings Alastor. But bro tries to leave, so after the party, she drags him to the woods, ties his legs and hands and use him as a bait for hunting wolfs or something like that as punishment.
Thanks for reading
You guys sure do love the witch reader- So do I!
Original witch reader - introducing to Coven - Careful What You Wish For - Pretty Little Doe
Warnings: panic attack, angst (sorta comfort at the end), power imbalance, not proofread, let me know I missed something.
Say You're Sorry
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*Lucifer called in a favor of you. Go to a goetia party in his stead.
*You decided you would go and bring your little doe to keep you entertained. Parties tend to bore you afterall.
*Unfortunately the same was true for your doe and he decided he would leave you there.
*Without even asking for permission!
*Good thing you had recently obtained some information regarding his death.
*Mauled by dogs?
*How fun it would be to recreate the event in hell...
---
"I will no longer tolerate this treatment! You are not in possession of my soul-!" Alastor struggles as your shadows bind his hands together, "Release me this instant!"
The shadows push him against the tree.
"'You won't tolerate this treatment?' I've been far too lenient with you."
Despite all his futile thrashing, your doe ends up bound hand and foot against the tree.
"You look so adorable! If only I could keep you like this all the time!" You ruffle his hair.
"I don't quite comprehend how this is fair- hmph!"
You cover his mouth with your hand.
"You do remember the feeling of dogs tearing into you, no?"
Alastor pales. He's a whole lot quieter now.
"I'm refreshing your memory, darling. I've heard the wolves in hell quite enjoy the taste of deer demon flesh."
You take your hand off his mouth.
The smile on his face is held up purely by those green stitches you are yet to understand. His chest heaves up and down, those eyes of his widening in a such a lovely manner.
"You- this- isn't necessary! I can be- I can-" Alastor swallows his pride with a smiling grimace.
"I can be good. For you."
His gaze stares up at you, searching, begging to see pity in your eyes.
Your lips curve upward in sadistic amusement.
"Prove it."
Then you fade into the shadows.
--
The deer keeps his eyes moving, his ears twitching, searching for any danger in the vicinity.
He'd been stranded there for what felt like hours.
Thinking about a way to leave, to run away.
His instincts that his deer half held urged him to flee, or hide, or anything! Something! Not stay tied at the base of this hellish tree!
Snap!
His head snaps to the sound. His breathing gets more ragged.
Then a low growl comes from the bush some feet away from him
Tears prick the corners of his eyes as he pathetically attempts to scoot away.
His hooves make contact with the ground but are tied too tight together to successfully stand.
The bush shuffles.
Then the wolf leaps for him.
The demon shrinks in on himself, ears pressed flat against his head as cries out, "No!"
...
The attack never landed.
"N-No- No- Please don't let-" the tears roll down his face, " I-I don't want- please-!"
"I'm- I'm sorry! I-I wont talk back- I-!" He chokes on his own gasp for air.
He sputters incoherent sentences, trying to breath properly again.
It's almost enough to make you feel bad over the whole ordeal...
You materialize on the ground next to him. "I... I apologize-"
He falls into you, clutching his bound hands onto the fabric of your clothing as he weeps out his own apologies.
You gently bring your hand to pet his ears.
"I didn't realize that you would be so sensitive about your death, my precious doe..." You laugh softly, "I wouldn't mind burning at the stake once or twice more!"
You clear your throat when the demon clinging to you doesn't laugh.
"I'm sorry, Alastor." You whisper.
...
"I'm sorry."
---
Next!!!
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v-albion · 16 days
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….
He’ll be fine
Eventually
Context
Masterpost
@tmntaucompetition
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Okay okay okay I know I'm on a bit of a sad kick but danny turning into a literal phantom.
Something happens at school, maybe the GIW shoots him in science after he finally got to passing, and it's the straw that breaks the camel's back, danny just snaps and goes full poltergeist. Transformation sequence, fucking magical girl's his way to a new, hellish form.
He takes over the school, no in or out and just starts attacking anybody trying to "free" the students. In his head he's just trying to keep them safe from outside harm but to everyone else this is a hostage situation from a new, extremely violent ghost.
Everyone on the outside is desperately trying to find phantom and get the kids out while everyone on the inside is trying to calm danny down because he is having a panic attack.
Eventually after an hour the justice league gets called and they try to handle the situation but ghosts are made of emotion to some extent, and Danny's having a lot of them which powers him up while being extremely erratic he's not easy to control or even keep track of for long. His intangibility and invisibility ads a new, untouchable layer to an otherwise already kinda op powerset that the league haven't ever had to fight All at once before.
While the justice league is busy trying to neutralize Danny, the students have banded together to try to break through the barrier and calm danny down. They go through Danny's backpack for scraps of fenton tech and fucking just straight up mug the GIW agents, and tucker Jerry rigs something to deactivate the force field.
During a lull in the fighting, when Danny's got the JL on the defensive, they flood out the front door and crowd danny while he desperately tries to mother hen them away from the justice league who he still blindly perceives as a threat. The JL freak out at the civillian to threat contact but slowly come to a horrifying realization as danny calms down with his friends and classmates that they've been trying to beat up a teen hero in a mental crisis and he shifts back into phantom and eventually human danny while sobbing about how he just wanted to keep everyone safe.
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sp0o0kylights · 9 months
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Steve and Gareth as Cousins, no longer a warm-up and now called Lifelines, part three! I’ll throw it up on A03 when I finish the fourth part. 
Prior parts can be read here: Part One / Part Two 
First things first, the most amazing @ sereinpetrichor managed to track down the OG Twitter thread this runaway train is based off of! 
It was this thread by @gatorthots, the Tumblr version of which can be read, here.  All blame for this idea firmly rests on their brilliant, plot bunny inducing shoulders. 
The other, follow up thread I mentioned was this one by Silas, whose tumblr name I do not know. 
As always and forever, shout out to the most amazing @chalkysgarbagefire​ who helps me edit/plot/pats my head while I’m crying in their inbox bc the words aren’t wording right. 
Warnings: Steve and Robin are canon (S3) drugged. I took a slightly (kinda sorta) more realistic approach. Vomit mention, canon threat of violence/guns (the Russian guards) Mention of pantsing/past bullying, Steve and Robin’s drugged asses not understanding personal space, Dustin’s canon...Im gonna go with assholishness? but like, I think its more than he’s a young kid and doesn't quite have the emotional growth/awareness yet in this kind of insane situation to know how to react to the whole address/torture bit (really who does)/its a defense mechanism--and Gareth sort of has a panic attack. 
Whatever the hell they had been drugged with, Steve and Robin went from 'giggly happy fun time' to 'vomiting into toilet bowls while loudly wishing for death’ awfully fast. 
Gareth was not an expert on drugs. He knew Eddie wasn't either (the guy never dealt anything stronger than your average psychedelic--had some agreement with his Uncle about only selling "the 70s basics") and repeated looks towards him proved Eddie was still trying to figure out what Steve and Robin were on. 
Answers hadn't exactly been forthcoming--Eddie's gently made attempts at ferreting out information had only caused more confusion.
Like why the two of them were so freaked out about a gate, or what had made Robin gasp, and then laugh so hard she cried when Steve had made a particularly rough noise then muttered; "Even that sounds better than Tammy Thompson." 
Either way, Gareth was mostly trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do, because sobering up in a busy, public mall wasn't exactly the best idea. 
"I regret," Robin tried to say, in-between gagging. "I regret--hrk--" 
"Me too." Steve moaned, head resting against the stall wall. Gareth, still caught up in panic, had been permanently regulated to door guard while Eddie alternated between sweet talking, rubbing backs and offering quietly whispered advice. 
"Let's go back in time and ignore the whole silver cat thing." Robin continued, slumping back down onto the floor. 
"Wouldn't have mattered." Steve muttered. "Dustin would have figured it out without us. Kid’s too damn smart." 
"So?" Robin grumbled, quietly thanking Eddie as he once again brushed her hair out of her face. 
"So he would have gone down there anyway, which means I'd be down there anyway." Steve concluded. "We shouldn't have gotten you involved though." 
He shakily pushed himself up, staggering to his feet and looking like bambi on ice while doing it. 
Eddie quickly came round to offer his help, hands spread as Steve groaned out a curse and clutched his head.  
The older took a step forward right as Steve lurched back, unbalanced and shaky. 
 "Oh shit." He said, eyes wide as he crashed backwards into Eddie, the latter catching him with a grunt. 
Despite the entire situation, Gareth found himself stifling a laugh as Eddie wrapped his noodle arms around Steve's chest, trying to hold the other up without falling himself. 
"Come on big boy, why don't we just siiiit back down." Eddie said, slightly breathless as he helped guide Steve back to the floor. "There we go…"
They did so outside the bathroom stall, Eddie sinking into a kneel as Steve sort of flopped down on top of him. 
Blinked a few times, like the drop had rattled what little sense he’d managed to recover in the last few minutes. 
A pleased noise came out of his cousin's throat, and holy shit was Gareth going to have blackmail for life, because rather than vacate Eddie's lap, Steve just turned around in it. 
Reached up with one finger outstretched and proved himself to be very much still under the influence as he touched Eddie's nose.
"Boop!" He said, and then giggled as Eddie dropped onto his ass in surprise. 
Gareth watched Robin as she took the whole thing in, from Steve's snickers to Eddie's shocked expression, eyes growing wide in excitement. 
He failed entirely to cover his own amusement when Eddie abruptly found himself with two sailors invading his personal space, each taking turns to boop his nose. 
“Uh.” He managed to get out, blinking rapidly and at a loss for words. “Ah.” 
Steve caught the metalhead’s awkward, red-faced expression and proceeded to drop his head to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter against the man's vest. 
The helpless look his best friend sent him was one Gareth would remember for a long time. 
“O-kay.” Eddie said, frazzled, as Steve recovered far too quickly, turning to rest his cheek against a slim shoulder as he walked two fingers up Eddie’s battle vest and towards his hair. Likewise, Robin had discovered Eddie’s wallet chain, and had begun fiddling with it. 
One finger curled around a strand of brown hair and Eddie jerked his head, removing the tempting piece away from Steve’s hands. 
“I know you’re used to getting whatever you want, your highness.” He said, his own hand smacking against his waist before Robin figured out the other end of his chain ended in a handcuff, “But you of all people should know the hair is off limits.” 
Completely undeterred, Steve just gave him a loose, easy grin. “It’s so pretty though.” He complained, fluttering his eyelashes in a blatant attempt to try and turn on the ol’ Harrington charm.  “You can touch mine if you want.” 
Yeah, Gareth’s blackmail was getting better by the second. 
He might even get a new piece for his drum kit out of it, if this kept up. 
Free weed too, considering Eddie’s blush was now fire-engine red. 
“Man,” Eddie said in a clear bid to deflect the entire situation (and Steve’s fingers) away from his hair, “the last time someone called me pretty was right before I got pantsed—-is Tommy H hiding in one of the stalls again?” 
Steve picked his head up, confusion crashing down his face. 
“Did he do that?” He asked. 
Then, with growing horror; “Do you think I’d do that?” 
Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your whole little court’s M.O.?” 
Steve sucked in a breath, looking downright hurt. "I wouldn’t do that." He insisted, eyes wheeling from Eddie to Gareth and back, as though hoping Gareth would back him up. 
“I’m not--I’m not friends with Tommy anymore.” Steve continued, voice growing smaller as he spoke. “I’m not friends with anybody anymore, except maybe Dustin.” 
It sounded so defeated; trodden on and subdued that Gareth stepped forward automatically, to do--something. 
Provide the fucking comfort his cousin was oft denied and hug the guy. 
As always, it turned out to be the wrong move. 
"Oh thank god." A kid said, seconds after bulldozing through the main door and nearly bowling Gareth over in the process. "I found them!" He shouted over his shoulder as swept into the room. 
“Speak of the devil.” Steve said flatly, and even drugged, he managed to pull himself back together from distressed to stoic in mere seconds. 
The curly-haired kid--Dustin apparently--stormed right up to the pile of humans splayed on the floor, hands on his hips. "What the hell. We told you two to stay put!" 
Steve rolled his eyes as Robin booed him. 
“Have you forgotten what’s happening? Or how we’re kinda in a Red Dawn situation?” Dustin continued, looking like he’d just escaped from a summer camp. 
The kid even had a walkie talkie clutched in one hand, of all things. 
“We know.” Steve and Robin deadpanned at once, before looking at each other; Steve pointing a finger towards Robin and Robin pointing one back. 
This caused the kids to trade their own long suffering, “can you believe this shit” faces. 
"We need to go, and the only way we’re gonna get out of here unnoticed is if we blend in with the crowd." Dustin said impatiently.  “Now come on Steve, get up already, you've had worse.”
"I really don't think I have." Steve muttered, but moved to push himself to his feet anyway. 
Eddie beat him to it, and he and Gareth both hovered nearby in case Steve was still unsteady. 
Thankfully, the kids' presence seemed to sober up Robin and Steve both. 
Not actually sober, that wasn't how drugs worked, but whatever was left of the fun was sucked right out of the bathroom, replaced by two teenagers who were sort of functional on whatever they'd been drugged with. 
Stress and adrenaline, Gareth knew, could overcome a lot of things. Including Russian "truth serum" apparently. 
“Yeah well you're lucky you got found by these guys and not anyone else. " Dustin continued pointedly, before turning his attention towards Gareth and Eddie both. "Thanks for watching our friends, but we've got them from here." 
Gareth made a sort of unhinged, disbelieving noise. 
 “No, no you do not.” He declared, anxiety clawing at his gut at the mere thought of abandoning Steve to two children. 
"I don't think you heard him." The girl stepped forward, braids swinging about her face as she lifted her chin and nailed him with a cold glare. 
 As if this entire situation couldn’t possibly get weirder, Gareth suddenly realized she had a helmet in her hands and knee pads on.
 "He said we got this. So scram." She flicked her fingers out in a dismissive sort of "shoo" gesture.
"And leave my drugged cousin with his new girlfriend behind!?" Gareth challenged right back, emotions far too raw and frayed to care he was snarling at a little girl. "I don’t think so!”
"Cousin!?" Dustin bit out, sounding almost betrayed for some reason, at the same time Robin who'd been climbing to her feet with Eddie’s help, shouted; "I am not his girlfriend!" 
Steve, clearly unwilling to entertain whatever fight was brewing, clapped his hands together. 
"Yes cousin, Dustin. It's a type of family member." Steve said, after they all flinched and looked to him. He at least looked steadier on his feet this time, though Gareth still lingered nearby in case he took a wrong step. 
"I know what a cousin is, Steve!" Dustin shot back. 
“Then why are you acting like a lunatic?” Steve complained, and Gareth got to watch in real time as Steve pulled on the persona he often wore in high school down around him. “You said it yourself, we don’t have a lot of time. Worse, I don't know if anyone saw Gareth and Munson here with us.” 
He jerked a thumb sideways in Eddie’s direction, not that anyone couldn’t figure out who “Munson” was. 
“They stay with us until we’re out of this mall.” Steve finished, before he started towards the door.
One step he was Gareth’s cousin, drugged and vulnerable because of it. 
The next he stood taller, talked smoother, took charge with an aurora that said he expected everyone to listen to him. 
It was fake as hell, but it worked. 
“I know you’ve got a plan Dustin, so spill it.” He commanded as he walked.  
 Dustin, despite all the squawking, did just that. 
xXx 
Of all the things Gareth had expected to see upon escorting their little ragtag crew out of the bathroom, groups of intimidating, mean looking assholes wasn’t on the list. 
He found himself repeatedly nudging Eddie in the ribs, unable to take his eyes off what was clearly a checkpoint as he staggered to a halt. 
It was one thing to be told people were after Steve and the “Scoop’s Troop” As Robin had jokingly named them. 
It was another entirely to see the security guard directly in front of him look over a woman’s ID before apologizing to her, a sleazy grin matching his oily pony-tail as he waved her on. 
They really were looking for someone. 
Not someone, Gareth realized in dawning horror.
Them. 
Robin apparently, came to the same conclusion seconds later, because she snatched Steve and Dustin’s arms both, hauling them backwards. 
“Argue about Dustin’s address later, we need to find a different way out.” She hissed quietly as she tried to slowly reversed direction, movements still a bit sloppy. 
She might have even gotten away with it, had Sleazy Pony-Tail not turned and made eye contact with Gareth right after she spoke. 
His eyes swept over him, then to the rest of the group, freezing like a cat that had spotted its prey.
“Abort, abort!” Dustin sputtered, wheeling about on his heel. 
Erica, whose name Gareth had learned when she kicked him in the shin after he asked why an actual infant was running around with Steve and Robin, pointed towards the escalators before she beelined over to it, ducking into the center and riding it down like a slide. 
Something Eddied was downright delighted to copy. 
Gareth might have enjoyed it himself, had he not been looking over his shoulder to see not one, not two, but four security guards giving chase--and gaining. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuckikity fuck.” He heard Robin chant as she shot past, Steve planting himself at the top as he made sure everyone got down to the next level before sliding down himself. 
"Do not let them leave!" One of the guards yelled to the others, accent clear as a bell. 
"Holy shit that guy's actually Russian." Gareth found himself saying as he skidded across the floor and bolted after the others, Steve hot on his heels. 
He had kinda expected the Russian thing to be some sort of drug influenced inside joke and not an actual, honest-to-God Soviet. 
Which led to the question of why the fuck adult men in security uniforms had drugged random teenage retail workers.
Food workers.
Whatever the fuck one called a two people who scooped ice-cream in sailor costumes. 
"There's another group up ahead!" Eddie yelped, swerving sideways and nearly taking Erica out while doing it. 
Noise erupted ahead of them in the form of foreign shouting and loud, harshly barked commands to “Freeze!”  
‘Oh hell no.’ Gareth thought wildly, as he caught the form of the giant fricken gun the guard closest to him held. 
“Split up!” Dustin howled, and before anyone could comment about how bad an idea that was, Gareth found himself being yanked sideways. 
Steve swore loudly behind him as Robin, who’d crashed backwards, pulled him in the opposite direction and in a second their group broke in two. Gareth, Eddie and Dustin going one way, Steve, Robin and Erica another. 
"This isn’t happening." Gareth muttered, words made in a sort of pleading denial as he and Eddie turned the corner and immediately vaulted over the counter of an Orange Julius. “I smoked or drank or did something and this is a hallucination that is not. Actually. Happening.” 
Dustin at least, was smart enough to dive around the counter instead of over it, sliding towards them on his knees. 
Eddie quickly yanked him down to the floor in-between himself and Gareth once he was close enough to grab, one hand going over the hat to shove the kids head down. 
Annoying or not, he was at least several years younger than them, and Gareth could practically feel Eddie’s protective instinct kick in as he kept his hand on Dustin’s head. 
Together they tried to silence their breathing as the guards’ shouting continued on behind them. 
What was worse than their noises though, was when they unexpectedly and suddenly, went silent. 
Gareth’s breath felt far too loud as the stillness gained a suppressive weight, pressing down harshly against him and making it harder and harder to inhale. 
‘Panic attack.’ He realized, thoughts a touch detached. ‘You can’t afford to have a panic attack right now.’ 
Not when it had a high chance of getting them all killed. 
Slowly he moved his own free hand, placing it atop of Eddie’s, fingers gripping down in a way that was no doubt painful. 
Eddie glanced over to him and Gareth thanked every single time he’d smoked way too much weed, because his best friend immediately clocked what was wrong. 
Turned his hand over, so that Gareth could hold onto it atop Dustin’s hat. 
It didn’t help with the knowledge that his very much still drugged cousin and his equally drugged not-girlfriend were also hiding somewhere, or that there was significantly more Russians than there where terrified teenagers (and one--whatever age Erica was.)  
Flashlights cut shapes into the wall overheard, trailing along the Orange Julius menu. Quiet voices covered even quieter footsteps and Gareth had the sudden realization the probability of there being more than one guard carrying a huge gun, was very, very high. 
Worse?
This part of the mall wasn’t that big. There were only so many places to hide, and as such, only so many places to look. 
Death comes for everyone eventually, but Gareth hadn’t exactly expected it to show up before he hit twenty.
Not that they could do anything but wait. Pray to God and the universe and any other higher power he could think of to intervene, head pressed hard against the wood behind him as the small noises drew nearer.
What he hadn’t expected was for said prayers to get answered in the form of a of a fucking car being thrown into the Russian’s like bowling balls. 
“Run!” Dustin shouted, and Gareth wasted absolutely no time in doing just that. 
The only goal on his mind was to find Steve, get out, and then have a very long discussion about what the hell this all was, in that exact order. 
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