#prompt: panic attack

[serickswrites]

Panicked

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced torture, PTSD, panic attack, hurt/aftermath

"Please," Whumpee sobbed as they hyperventilated, "please just leave."

Caretaker stood frozen. They wanted to respect Whumpee's wishes to be left alone. But they also couldn't leave Whumpee alone in the midst of a panic attack. Not after everything Whumpee had been through.

Caretaker had no idea what set Whumpee off. Only that one minute Whumpee was in the kitchen muttering something to themself, the next they were sobbing on the floor, desperately trying to rock themself. But worse was that the wouldn't let Caretaker comfort them.

"Please," Whumpee sobbed harder, "please leave."

Caretaker couldn't leave. But they couldn't take Whumpee's autonomy away either. "Whumpee, I can--"

"No. No you can't. No one can. Whumper did this. Whumper is still doing this. I'll never be free of them. And what they did. Every time I close my eyes I see them."

Caretaker's heart hurt hearing Whumpee's words. They knew Whumpee had a long road to recovery, but seeing this made it real. "I can't leave you, Whumpee."

"Go away, please," Whumpee curled up into a tight ball. "I can't. I can't."

Caretaker frowned. They couldn't leave Whumpee alone. But they could go out of Whumpee's line of sight. That they could do. Maybe that would help Whumpee. Maybe.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat

[nine-one-wanton]

Prompt: Panic Attack

link to ao3^^

For @bucktommyangstweek 🖤

Chapter-specific tags: Buck POV, bucktommy breakup, panic attack, good friend Eddie Diaz, angst with a hopeful ending

[glitterydotcom]

The Weight of the Breath

Rating: General Audiences

Fandom: Miami Medical

Chapters: 1/1

Prompt: Panic Attack ; Isolation ; Medical Isolation and Quarantine

Additional Tags: Light Angst Medical Isolation and Quarantine Panic Attacks Nervousness Panic

Summary:

When a patient with suspicious symptoms dies from a possible infectious disease, Dr. Serena Warren and the Miami Medical team are placed in quarantine, forced to confront both the threat of a deadly outbreak and their own fears.

Read on Ao3

( @badthingshappenbingo )

[rottingghosty]

The Hunt of Joker | DC X DP

ERRORS WILL BE MADE BECAUSE I’M AN OVERWORKED PERSON

“What?” The Ghost King of the Infinite Realms hissed out in rage.

Danny stared down at where his Spymaster, a liminal who willingly stood up to take on the title to keep an eye on the human realm for him— was kneeling still as they waited for Danny to process their report. The silent in the throne room was deafening and yet his Spymaster— Lucero Castillo continued on to stay defiantly at him to showcase the seriousness of the situation.

“He’s called the Joker, he’s killed and caused more harm than I’ve realized. The person tasked at keeping an eye on him had failed and the man got away from landing in the realms for his trial longer than I’d like to admit.” Lucero said with a bitter tone, their anger obvious in the moment. Danny could understand, seeing the countless ghosts who landed in the realms because of the Joker grew.

Knowing that the Joker managed to defy death and kept inflicting it? It made Danny’s blood boil as he remembered the death of one of Lady Gotham’s Knights, the boy was young— so young that Danny wept to himself in the shelter of his own keep because that was a young boy who despite everything still tried to save his own mother. Danny felt like he was looking to a mirror every time he saw the Robin, purely because they were both teenagers— kids who had died. It was a limited time that Danny spent with Robin- Jason but enough that Danny missed him when the boy disappeared.

“You’ve kept tabs?” Danny rumbled out, his words echoing with authority that caused the ghosts in the throne room to straighten and Lucero to give a grin, their fangs glinting in the light of the ghost flames that lit up the room.

“Once I realized, I made sure to keep tabs on the clown. I figured it’d be a good premise for a hunt.”

A hunt… Lucero wasn’t wrong. A hunt would be good, it’d allow those who had been harmed by him. The ghosts will enjoy the thrill of hunting down their own killer, he’s sure Gotham’s shades and lingering ghosts would enjoy it as well. Lucero would keep an eye on the hunt, put a stop to any ghosts who stepped out of line and protect any humans.

Danny’s fingers drummed against the arm rest of his throne, the crown above his head flickering wildly as he thought it over.

“I approve of this hunt, it’s been too long.” Danny said as he gave a crooked smile before gesturing to Pandora who immediately began to speak the hunt in existence with another ghost besides her writing it down so a missive would appear before every victim of Joker that had died and lives in the realms.

“Under the orders of High King, the Hunt of the human named Joker the Maddened False Clown, the man who has denied our Mother’s embrace and who has cruelly ended lives of others before their ended time. The Spymaster has been deemed the Watcher of this Hunt and those who had been harmed by him may indulge in the hunt. The hunt will begin in a week’s time.”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Jason felt that something in Gotham was different, the air felt charged in a way he never felt even before his death. He was more in tune with Gotham than any other person, he knew Gotham at its core just as she knew him at his very being. It’s why he claimed Crime Alley as his when he had come back, why he dug his roots and kept digging them even if people tugged him and tried to make him change his tune about the Alley.

They didn’t understand.

Nobody understood the fact that Crime Alley is the very heart of Gotham, how she thrives on its very essence and how even at her weakest she relies on it to protect the rest of Gotham. The City Spirit loomed over him from the shadows, her hands placed on his shoulders to keep ahold of and giving a motherly croon whenever the Bats came into his haunt.

The leylines that Gotham lived on seemed to beat along as the excited trills and chirps of various ghosts were heard as he walked through the Alley, they sounded like a murder of crows in the death infested city. Shadows and blurs of greens and blues darted around, seeking. Hunting.

A soft croon from shade caught Jason’s attention, watching it peer shyly up at him with a wide childlike gaze. The shade was in an alleyway, one that Jason knew the kids around used to run after stealing some food that he knew Mrs. Jimenez purposely put on her windowsill for to take. He debated on ignoring it, wanting to head home because his skin felt too tonight, his pulse thundering in ways even adrenaline rush never could.

The shadows beckoned. Jason followed.

“Do you guys feel that?” Steph asked at family dinner of the month, her eyes darting around to catalogue the Bats reactions. Everyone looked on edgy, as if a single pin needle could drop and it’d shatter every peaceful pretense they had. Jason however looked at ease, as if he didn’t feel like he was a prey at the moment.

“Yeah, it’s made a lot of things brighter. I had to be careful during patrol because I’d start getting migraines from the lights.” Duke said as he poked his fork into his pasta, eyes hidden behind sunglasses that he wore to prevent his lingering headache from flaring into something worse.

“Oh it’s probably cause of the Hunt.”

A silence occurred before chaos erupted.

☁️☁️☁️☁️

NOTE: I am a firm believer that while Jason doesn’t remember anything from during his time dead, he knows ghost culture because its ingrained into his very being and has been aware of all the shades/ghosts of crime alley because its his haunt and he is protective of them as he is of humans. He’s basically Lady Gotham’s disgruntled feral cat and she’s basically throwing him at the shades as exposure therapy to the ✨other side ✨

also Jason casually dropping the fact of the Hunt is so funny cause he’s just reading a book while eating. Like hahaha yeah it’s cause of the Hunt :) we all had died or had brushed with death enough that we feel the excitement of the dead ! Jason is also very much unaware that the hunt is AIMED at Joker and pretty much. has a dead joker dropped at his feet by excited kiddo shades because !!! PRESENT FOR PAPA !!! before it gets yoinked into the infinite realms by Lucero.

morally grey danny because he is balance !! HE IS A KING !! he has the right to choose who dies !!! tbis was done at 2am again and scheduled to post at 7am

[corsairier]

dc x dp prompt: in which Danny accidentally becomes an alien

So I'm not super caught up on the modern day dp fandom lore, but what i am very familiar with is pre-2016 dp fandom lore. And that lore tends to take a much more sci-fi slant than a lot of the current magic stuff I've been seeing circulating around, so... what if we took that and put it in a batfam crossover?

Picture this: Danny is sixteen, he's told his parents he's a halfa, and despite all his fears, things actually went... well? They apologize for how they've treated Phantom, they reaffirm they still love him as their son, and things are surprisingly okay.

Except... ghosts are still their biggest interest in life, and researching ghosts is their entire passions and careers. And they've got a kid right there who not only is a ghost, but a rare type of half ghost who could give them a completely different set of data than any of their previous research! And he's their kid, so why not just go and ask Danny how he's feeling about helping them out with their research?

And Danny is, well... his friends and Jazz are all super happy for him that Maddie and Jack accepted him, and they think it's sweet at first that they're trying to bond with Danny over this. So he feels a bit pressured to go along with it, even though it feels incredibly invasive to have his parents asking him all these things. But they're his parents, and he does feel grateful for them not trying to vivisect him, so it can't be that bad, right?

But it just escalates.

His parents have never really been great with boundaries, especially when it comes to ghosts, and at some point Danny realizes that there's not really a point where either of them will truly stop. They keep asking him for blood samples, skin samples, hair samples, marrow samples, anything that can help understand him inside and out. They know ectoplasm can bring inanimate things to life or infuse life into the dead, so it quickly becomes Hey Danny, what if we injected human blood into a ghost? And Come watch us infuse ectoplasm into these frozen mice! and Danny, come help us out with this project!

Vlad won't even come in between any of this, not after Danny let slip that he wasn't the only halfa out there. Maddie's affections are a lot less attractive to him when it feels like being a lab rat under her microscope, and the coward seems more than happy to leave Danny to his fate while he goes and lives it up in his mansions. His friends are sympathetic, sure, but they don't really get it beyond usual "parents suck" complaining. it's not like Danny is actually in any danger.

Jazz at least takes it seriously, but she's off at university by then and she can't just drop everything to get into fights with their parents telling them to leave Danny alone. So Danny starts spending a bit more time than he probably should exploring the Ghost Zone and tumbling through portals, just to see where it leads him. It's stress relief, you know. Jazz would approve of him getting out of the house to clear his head.

The fact that some of these portals happen to connect dimensions isn't something he's expecting.

Neither is the fact that dimensions have their own rules, and in order to pass between dimensions, they must undergo changes as needed to fit those rules. Someone with magic cannot exist as is in a dimension without it, and the dead cannot walk in a dimension where the rules of life and death are drawn by different lines.

Danny winds up in Gotham with a body that feels unlike his own, the majority of his powers and his ghost half seemingly beyond his reach. He still thinks he's human (probably), but something about him isn't quite right. He feels odd, where he lands, and something about the air and the weather just doesn't sit right in his bones.

He's hungering for... ectoplasm, maybe? He can't put a finger on it, only that he's starving without it. Danny can't quite figure out how to get his way back—and he's not sure if he really wants to, if it means going back to playing house with his parents.

Then the Bats, from their own perspective, stumble across a medical mystery—one that doesn't want to be solved.

One that's absolutely sick of people trying to research everything about him.

And there's no way a being like him could be from Earth, right?

Batman is convinced he's an alien seeking amnesty on Earth. Tim's got his bets on an experiment escaped from some dark and corrupt lab somewhere. Dick's thinking the kid's a Meta with the kind of powers those with bad intentions would kill to have.

Jason, for what it's worth, really just wants to know how this bandaged and ill kid ended up in one of his safehouses—especially considering it's not accessible from the ground floor.

---

I've been chipping away at a fic for this, but I'm not sure if it'd be something modern dpxdc fans would be interested in? Feel free to use this idea yourselves for anything if it piques your interest LOL, just credit me in the AN if you post it to AO3. I just think it's really funny to have Danny having incredibly boring "i feel i can't enforce boundaries with my parents" problems and then the Batfam seeing what it all looks like from an outsider's POV and coming to some very severe conclusions based on what they can pick up on because it's really not a good look.

Danny voice. No my parents are fine except for all the experimenting on me. Jason voice. THE WHAT.

[unboundprompts]

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.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

[thefallenangel2008]

How about Stan helping Dipper with anxiety attacks? Only it's not really help. I mean, it is, because Stan's speaking genuinely out of care, but the advice doesn't really sound like the most helpful one. I'm just gonna make it a dialog to get the vision across better.

Stan: Do you know what calms me down during a panic attack?

Dipper: What?

Stan: ✨Harmonicas.✨

Dipper: ... What?

Stan: Ok, so basically. When you're hyperventilating just put a harmonica against your mouth. It's gonna make funny noises and distract you from whatever it is you're pointlessly stressing over.

[screams-n-shackles]

Strong characters that are afraid of dying.

And I do not mean afraid of dying in a life threatening situation.

Let them be used to chaos, to pain. Let them thrive in conflict and near death experiences.

But as soon as it's quiet. When it's not possible to keep out thoughts by being busy, by fighting.

Let them lay awake. Staring into the night, and thinking about what they are fighting for.

What they are thankful for.

And then the realize, they are not only afraid of loosing those precious things.

They are afraid of never getting to experience Them ever again.

They don't want to say a final goodbye to a dear friend.

They never want to See a last sunset, their last movie.

Thinking about the Last Time they Said their mother that they Loved her or Vice versa sends Them into a Spiral.

Why does everything have to die?

They don't want to die.

They don't want to die.

That's when they start shaking. Eyes filling with tears as they struggle to breath between their sobbing.

Covering their mouth, so noone can hear them in this State of Mind.

Their mind fogs as panic overwrites every positive thought they might try to conjure up.

No Matter what they try, Images of their Possible deaths appear in their mind.

They could get shot and die in Combat.

They could choke on a peanut or get a Brain aneurism in the middle of the night.

That's it. Their end.

Nothing more. No afterstory. And in a while their name won't be mentioned ever again.

A life of suffering to protect others, only to vanish into nothingness.

Reduced to Ash and Stardust.

What are they even Fighting for?

What does it matter?

Does.... Anything Matter?

[tourettesdog]

DPxDC prompt where Danny has been going by Nightingale for awhile now, but he has yet to legally change his name. On paper he's still a Fenton, and after what his parents did to him he struggles to see it still attached to his name.

He's been living in Gotham for a while now. He's tried laying low, leaving his past behind-- still he can't help but get involved when shit hits the fan. He's on the bats' radar quicker than he'd have liked, and they deduce his identity quicker than he'd have expected.

When he's confronted by Batman, the man addresses him as Fenton. He lays down his past-- what he knows of it, at least-- and all of the weaponry and questionable science attached to that name.

Danny's not sure what he expected from his inevitable interrogation with the big bat, but a panic attack wasn't it.

[justbreakonme]

Whumper always doing something sweet or soft before torturing the Whumpee, like brushing the hair out of their face or kissing their cheek.

It’s too small of a detail to mention or even remember during the rescue and the first few days of settling in with Caretaker.

But that means both Whumpee and Caretaker are completely blindsided by the intense flashback/panic attack that small, unassuming gesture caused.

[seth-whumps]

“Hey! Hey, calm down. Shh~.” -panicked Whumpee

"I can't, I can't do this, please don't make me do this."

"Hurts. It hurts. My chest--it hurts."

"I can't breathe."

"Stop, stop touching me, don't touch me!"

"I--I'm dying. I'm gonna die. I don't want to die."

[jordanstrophe]

Obsessed with the scenario of whumpee being told news (whumper's alive, escaped, ect) as their response is a calm "Okay," before quickly exiting the room.

Caretaker follows them, knowing despite their demeanor, they didn't take the news well. It didn't take long to find whumpee had only made it ten yards and was clinging to the wall in a panic attack.

Caretaker skids across the floor on their knees and scoops them up, quickly carrying them to a quiet room to calm down.  

[m1d-45]

hourglass

summary: he's running very late for a very important date !

word count: ~1k

-> warnings: none :3

-> gn reader (you/yours) ++ takes place pre-fontaine !

taglist: @samarill || @sarienic || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

lyney’s schedule was not one with wide margins. every minute was accounted for, dedicated to an explicit purpose. his shows (preparing, checking the stage, checking props, checking the stage again—sorry, lynette) took a large portion of his time, but there was also his family (checking on freminet, checking on lynette, checking on the rest of the House, checking on freminet again—are you sure you’re alright?) and missions from father (steal this, leave that, don’t be heard, don’t be seen).

honestly, he barely had time to breathe most days. and that was fine! he rarely knew what to do without some problem to fix or task to complete. it was an unfamiliar feeling, and so he often took on extra work whenever he could. as such, he’d developed a bit of a knack for all the odd jobs you could think of: flower arrangements, finding lost things, getting stains out of clothes, cooking, any and everything.

he’d never had a problem with this. his life was crowded, but straightforward. he knew the answer to every problem, and if he didn’t, he knew who did.

this was, of course, before you entered the picture. now, the tasks he sought out felt too heavy to carry. yes, he wanted to help his family, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was only so many times he could show up late before you’d stop trying to invite him places, and that was the last thing he wanted.

you weren’t fatui, but you didn’t mind that he was and father had given him clearance so long as he was “responsible with his loyalties,” which was entirely achievable! what showman couldn’t juggle?

…him, apparently. because between helping lynette find her tea (someone had moved it) and keeping the local wildlife safe from foltz, he’d lost track of time. he still wasn’t used to a block of free time in his schedule, automatically trying to fill it before he could remember that there was a reason for it. and now, he was rushing through the streets of fontaine, fixing his cape as he all but ran.

you were sat outside the cafe in the same chair as usual, and he slows to a regular pace as he approaches to gather what remained of his appearance. you were reading a book, and he felt both proud that you hadn’t forced yourself to sit there plainly and also ashamed of the fact that it was his fault. regardless, he cleared his throat and called your name, sitting across from you and meeting your smile with his own.

your book was a mystery novel, one he easily enough got you talking about with a bit of prompting. judging by the place your bookmark held, you were a good ways through it, likely just before the reveal. just from your summary, he could easily guess the culprit, but what was the point in ruining your fun?

“so, who do you think it is?”

there were few things lyney liked more than seeing the people he cared for happy and in their element. you got to share your theories and he could listen to your voice out of all the bustle in the city, ordering ile flottante to have an excuse to keep quiet. your own tea was growing cold, but he could always get you another. would picking up the tab make up for his tardiness? it probably shouldn’t.

around halfway through your defense of the butler—cleared by his alibi, but still deemed suspicious by the bartender—you stopped, looking somewhere over his shoulder. he didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary..

your hand rose to tap at your face, just at the corner of your lip. “you’ve got icing on you, by the way.”

ah. well, wasn’t that the perfect topping to his evening?

he grabbed a napkin and quickly wiped across the offending cheek, but you shook your head. “no, the other one.”

at least you were smiling? that made his mistake worth it. he was usually a tidy eater—but he also usually didn’t order flottante, since it was usually too sweet for his liking. today, he’d decided to give it a try, and look where that had gotten him…

he told you as such, and you laughed. he liked hearing you laugh. laughter meant happiness, and happiness meant a job well done. maybe he should get it more often?

“are you doing this intentionally?”

he folded the napkin twice, eyes on you. “doing what intentionally?”

“you missed it twice.” oh, archons- “here, just sit still.”

he didn’t have much time to protest before you were taking your napkin in hand, carefully swiping it an inch or so to the side from where he’d guessed. like him, you folded the mess inside, but unlike him you actually had something on yours, a pale gold in the afternoon light. the whole interaction had lasted maybe a second or two, but it stuck in his head for far longer.

you put a lot of trust into him, more than he knew what to do with. people were not typically fond of the fatui, and even less fond of the magician who could snatch their wallets before they could blink (nevermind that he’d had to learn that skill to survive). it was strange that he could make the same mistake over and over and your faith that he would show never wavered.

not that he ever wanted to give you a reason to. he always kept his promises to those he loved.

[kades-whump-stuff]

recovering Whumpee prompts

Whumpee who NEEDS to see everything around them. They will not let anyone, even Caretaker, walk behind them, they sit or stand with their back to a wall if possible. They're always looking behind them, constantly expecting Whumper there, even if it's just subconsciously.

Whumpee who makes themself as small as possible. They know their posture is taking a hit, but they draw in all of their limbs and hunch over in an attempt to be as small as possible. They're most comfortable this way.

Whumpee who has periods of time where they lose speech - partially or totally. During these, if they want or need something, they find it difficult or impossible to ask for it, and god forbid someone ask them about Whumper.

Whumpee who dissociates - their eyes grow unfocused at times and they always look confused or lost. They mindlessly follow Caretaker wherever they go, even when they're completely out of it.

Whumpee who has lost touch with their own self and feelings, and who notices that their breathing and heartbeat are speeding up. They notice their symptoms of having, say, a panic attack, too late to stop the effects.

Whumpee who has to be their own caretaker, whether that means stitching up their own wounds while biting on their wallet, or forcing themself up and out of bed in the morning.

[memepocalypse]

Panic Attack

Some people are... more helpful than others.

"Do as I do, okay? Breathe in, nice and slow -"

"You okay? You look a bit - oh no."

"You're okay, you're okay. I'm going to take your hand."

"Nice slow breaths for me."

"There's nothing wrong. You're okay. You're okay."

"I need you to tell me five things you can see."

"Do you know what cause this?"

"Tell me how to help."

"It's okay to cry. I won't tell anyone."

"Can you sip this water?"

"Don't be cruel. It's not your fault."

"Let me help you, okay?"

"Is it okay if I hug you? Would a hug help?"

"I don't know what to do, I don't know how to help you!"

"What's going on? Why are you making that noise?"

"What's wrong with you, why are you doing this!?"

"Are you having an asthma attack or something?"

"God, pull yourself together."

"Fucking seriously? Wow, you're useless."

"You need to get therapy or something."

"What's the cause of the act this time?"

"You're kidding me. That's pathetic."

"Are you - crying? Ew."

"Breathe? What useless advice is that."

"Don't - touch - me -"

"I don't want your help."

"Get me away from here."

"I can't - breathe -"

"I'm useless - worthless - there's no point - to me -"

"Go - away -"

[writingdevil]

damsel x paranoid please? (if you can)

(OH MY GOD OUR FIRST PRINCESS APPEARANCE! Technically I've written about Nightmare and Razor, but that was just a character study-this is our first request! They'd actually be really funny together, so I hope you enjoy this one!)

Paranoid's face was numb.

He knew that his face was damp with tears that continued to slowly trail down his face, but all Paranoid could feel was the way his head was bursting with pain, and the pins and needles sensation that made his face feel fuzzy and numb at the same time.

He was outside. He wasn't sure when or even why he was outside, but the feeling of the forest wind brushing across his head face was a welcome relief.

A hand carded through his feathers, and Paranoid flinched, before soft sobs escaped him.

He wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he knew it ended up in a panic attack. One second, everything was pressing down on him, threatening to crush him until his bones snapped. The next, he was sobbing into the silent forest, blindly running forward, hugging himself as he did, although it offered little comfort.

He remembers being too overwhelmed to keep going, crashing to his knees as his body wasn't his to control in that moment.

He remembers everything beginning to blur and consume him, until she appeared. She said something, but Paranoid couldn't hear her. But then she opened her arms out to him, and Paranoid understood that message clear enough.

He threw himself at her, attaching himself around her middle, focusing on the feel of her dress, her voice, her everything that wasn't the mess that Paranoid was, until the worst of the panic attack was over, and now he was left with the numbing aftermath.

His head was in Damsel's lap, his arms loosely around her waist, as she hummed a tune to herself, one hand rubbing his back, and the other preening the feathers on his head.

It was funny-usually he hated other people touching his feathers, but right now, the feeling made him feel boneless in her hold.

At first, when he registered that it was Damsel that he was with, he had the sudden urge to flee and stay away from her. It didn't matter how harmless she looked, or how beautiful her soul was, according to Smitten.

She was still a princess. She was still a threat, and just because she struggled with the ability to take control of her own life, doesn't mean that she couldn't find a way to endanger Paranoid's.

But-if Paranoid were to push past his fears and worries, he'd say that the real reason was that he didn't want to make Damsel be here and deal with him when she doesn't need to.

Paranoid's had over a million panic attacks, and over half of them he dealt with himself. He didn't like it when other people saw him this way, weak and frazzled. Even though he was on edge most of the time, he could at least keep it together for the sake of the flock.

Except for the times that he couldn't, and he just became something to pity.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the feeling of her fingers against his feathers, waiting for the fuzzy sensation in his face to pass.

He knows he didn't say anything to her, but it still felt like Paranoid was being greedy with her, and that made his stomach turn with discomfort.

Eventually, his sobs subsided, and Paranoid turned to shove his face into her lap to get rid of the last remnants of numbness in his face, and then he was starting to feel more like himself again.

"Oh, it looks like you've stopped crying. Are you feeling better?"

Damsel's hand paused in his feathers, and Paranoid fought the urge to be comforted by how soft and quiet her voice was, not too loud to irritate his headache further, but gentle enough that it made him feel safe.

Paranoid fidgeted with a loose thread on the back of her dress, taking a deep breath in to try and collect his thoughts.

He wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to outright ignore her when she helped him through his panic attack, but he was afraid that anything he told her would make her just do what would make him happy, and not take herself into account.

He settled for nodding into her lap.

He could practically feel her smile shining down on him, and she continued running her fingers through his feathers and said, "That's good. I don't like seeing others in pain like that. I just want everyone to be happy."

Yep. He's aware of that.

He turned his head back to the side to let the forest air brush against his face, drying his damp cheeks. They stayed in that position for what felt like hours, and if Paranoid let himself relax enough, he knew he would fall asleep.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice weak and on the verge of crumbling. Damsel paused again, and asked, "What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry...for making you deal with me."

"What?" But then Paranoid felt her soft hands cup his face, carefully guiding him to look up at her, and Paranoid couldn't help the sudden flash of warm nerves he felt as he looked up at her, a kind smile on her face, with the light shining down on her hair in just the right way.

Smitten was right. She was breathtaking.

"You were clearly in pain. It didn't feel right to just leave you alone. I wanted to help you."

Paranoid stared into her eyes, trying to find any hint of malice or deceit in them, but there was nothing but worry and love.

He wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want her to leave, but he also didn't want to accidentally make her do something she didn't want.

Paranoid sighed, and Damsel helped wipe away his tears with her thumbs, and he wanted to close his eyes and relax, but then she asked the dreaded question, "Do you want to talk about it? Do you want-"

"No." His answer was immediate.

He genuinely didn't remember what had transpired to lead him into a panic attack, because it honestly could have been so many things, and the last thing he wanted to do was keep thinking about the awful experience, especially when he could instead be focusing on this much nicer one.

He decided to quickly change the subject. "Why were you just in the woods alone?"

Damsel smiled, and it felt like her smile had the power to send his body floating and feeling lighter than ever, as if nothing could go wrong when he was the audience for that smile.

"I wanted to try and go for a walk. Beast says it's a nice way to pass the time." Then her eyebrows furrowed in a way that looked a little silly on such a happy princess. "But I didn't know there were so many different paths, and I couldn't decide which way to go."

Her voice got lower, and she nervously bit her lip before continuing, "I was just stuck there, not knowing what I wanted. But then I heard you!" All of a sudden, her voice was chipper again, as she gave him a bright smile.

"I heard you from afar, and I didn't even think before running towards you-I just made a decision and moved. Isn't that great?" He wordlessly nodded, and he found that he was smiling softly up at her, at her positivity and cheerful yet soft nature. Paranoid felt like he could relax around her.

She brushed her thumbs over his cheeks and asked, "Do you want to get up and go home? You probably want to go back to your flock, don't you?"

Instantly, the anxiety hit him again, and he lowered his head to avoid her gaze.

A big part of him didn't want to move at all. He just wanted to stay in this little bubble that the two of them had created, where Paranoid didn't have to think about the past or the future. He could keep his mind calm and happy, so long as Damsel was here to hold him.

But the more sensible side of him told him that that was ridiculous, and stupid to even consider.

But it was really because he knew he needed to go back to them, to figure out why he had a panic attack in the first place, and-and because he did feel better around his flock.

So he sighed, and nodded, and then started to shakily get to his feet, which was when he realised that he hadn't recovered as much as he thought he had. Damsel helped him stand by bracing her hands on his forearms, and Paranoid tried not to rely on her too much as he stood, knees still shaky and his legs feeling lifeless.

He just stood there, hugging himself protectively, as the warmth of Damsel's body left him, and he was just left with his own stupid, rattling worries.

But then Damsel was next to him, giving him such a patient smile, and she gestured out towards the woods. "Are you ready to go?"

But he wasn't so sure that he was, or that he even could, because he knew that he would have to face the aftermath of his panic attack, and deal with all the worried faces of his flock that made him feel awful for making them feel that way, when the reason he freaked out was probably not even something worth worrying over.

But then Damsel stood closer to him, grabbing his attention, as she held out her hand for him. "C'mon," she softly said, "we'll go there together."

He looked down at her hand, then back up at her face that held only patience and care.

His heart fluttered.

Slowly, he reached his hand out, but instead of taking her hand, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and she blinked in confusion at him, going, "Oh, what's wrong?" and he opened his mouth to embarrassingly explain, when her face lit up in realisation.

"Oh, wait! Do you want to feel my pulse? Does that make you feel better?" His face heated up as he ducked his head in embarrassment, but still nodded, not trusting his voice in this moment.

There was a moment of silence, where Paranoid was sure Damsel was second guessing her choices already, when he heard her speak up again.

"H-Heart...lungs...liver? Am I doing it right?"

His head shot up, and there was now a pink hue on her cheeks as she giggled and said, "That's the thing you say to calm yourself down, isn't it? That's what makes you happy."

He winced at her wording, but couldn't help but feel touched at her decision to help him feel more comfortable, when he's asked nothing of her thus far. He stared down at her hand, and nodded, and she sighed in relief, thankful that she was doing it right, and she moved her other hand to place over his hand that was around her wrist, right over his pulse.

They locked eyes, and Paranoid desperately hoped she couldn't already feel how fast his heart was beating.

Damsel took a step forward as she began tentatively, "Heart. Lungs. Liver-uh-"

"Nerves," he quickly finished, taking a step forward as well, and she flashed him a grateful smile as they started to slowly walk, fingertips over pulses, and saying his chant over and over again-but Paranoid knew that it wasn't the chant keeping him safe and calm in that moment.