#trigger warning: panic attack

[shr1mply-here]

RUN!

WHAT DO YOU *huff* THINK WE’RE TRYING TO DO?!? *Wheeze*

OOoo… hand-holding.. ✨

*Huff!* oh god—! *wheeze* whys it so hard to breathe right now?!—

Shrimpo?.. are you okay?

Do.. *huff* I LOok okay?!— *Wheezy cough*

*shrimpo’s voice sounds very strained and sore.

D-don’t worry! I’ll save you!—

(you idiot, I’m here to save you.)

SPLAT!!

H-huh?.. wh-who is that?

(Ohgodthatssick—)

Theses silly things never learn~!

Hehehehehehe!

You two are in quite the conundrum!

[packet-of-staples]

Alright we’re in the home stretch!!

Day 111 - Messing around with panels. Theres more to this I just haven’t finished it

Day 112 - He grows a little every day!

Day 113 - You’re never fully dressed without a smile!

[umaimayasmine]

I read this somewhere,

"Be gentle with their heart and scars, sometimes they bleed in colours unknown to you and you will think they are kaleidoscopic But in reality, they are a rainbow of myriad miseries."

OH MY GOD.

[thehyperfixationspeedrunner]

This is me trying

On ao3 too

Summary: It's been a month since what Cardan has been calling the "reptile accident" when he decides to get up before Jude, not knowing the consequences.

OR these two are traumatised and they may not acknowledge it, but I will.

Trigger warnings (already put in the tags but I'm not sure if I did it right so better safe than sorry): panic attack, cussing

It's weird how easily you fall into routine. It's barely been a month since what Cardan has started calling the "reptile accident" or the one he likes best "revealing his true form" (although that one isn't used in front of Jude, she's not sure why but she prefers it that way). Anyway, it's been a month since Cardan has been transformed into a snake, since Cardan and Jude has started to live together as the King and Queen of Elfhame but they have already established a routine, even if neither of them has noticed it until today.

Jude is always the first to wake up - Jude was raised by a general and Cardan by a prince, so that part is obvious. She dresses first, giving Mr. Lazy time to sleep, and then she wakes up sleeping beauty even though he always complains that while there aren't people busting into the room saying he's late, she's waking him up early. He never says he hates it. Jude suspects is because he can't lie. From then, Jude orders breakfast while Cardan dresses up, and they eat together before having to deal with their royal obligations.

Today, however, was different. Shockingly, Jude was able to have some good 6 hours of sleep and woke up a bit disoriented. See, this is the bad part about sleeping a lot. When you wake up, your senses take a while to turn on. That's definitely the reason why Jude barely sleeps, at least that's what she tells everyone when they ask her. Because of that, she took a bit to notice that she was alone in bed, which triggered something in her brain. She instantly gets out of bed and starts to look in every corner of their room repeating to herself that everything is fine, Cardan just woke up earlier and is dressing up or putting the hundred of layers that he puts every morning because "I know I look impressive naturally but I am the High King, Jude, I have to look perfect". Except he is nowhere to be found.

See, a small but important part of this quickly created routine was when Jude woke up and she would always look to the side and see Cardan relaxed and asleep, would look at his chest rise and fall and make sure that, yes, he's alive and, no, this last month was not a fever dream, he really is here. Without that confirmation, Jude is starting to spiral, and the fact that Cardan is not in the room doesn't help.

She tries to take a deep breath. She's the High Queen goddammit, she can't panic every time a minor routine change happens. But the truth is that she cannot take the deep breath. She cannot even take a small breath. She's pretty sure she's not breathing at all. But she has to because Cardan needs her. Jude goes through her options: one, he did wake up earlier, got knocked off in the room but somewhere hidden where she didn't check; two, he got knocked off somewhere in the castle and his unconscious body is lying there; three, he got abducted while he slept; four... Maybe last month was a fever dream. No, she is not going to think about option four.

While she does a more precise search through their room, she also tries to think of who would do this. He's the King of Elfhame, so it's obvious that he has a lot of enemies, but she is not remembering anyone who's this mad at him right now. However, her hands are trembling and there's still not enough air reaching her lungs, so maybe her memory is not the best at the moment. You were almost deadly stabbed before the incident.

Ok, he is not in the room, so option number two. This one is not the most likely. If someone knocked him off, they wouldn't just leave him in the middle of the corridor, and Faes don't just slip, so he couldn't have knocked himself out. Besides the palace is huge, it would take too long to search. Maybe you were less healed than you thought. Option number three it is. There are three windows in the room. The climb is hard but not impossible, she has done it herself while having a major injury. A major injury that could have been infected. Jude shakes her head and checks the three windows. None of them is broken and they are all locked from the inside, like they were when they went to sleep, which she knows because she always checks that before going to bed. Unless the person was a master spy (which is an option), she doesn't know how someone pulled that of. The other way into the room is through the door, so she quickly opens it, revealing two knights part of her security.

"Was there any disturbance last day?" She would be surprised that her voice somehow didn't fail if she was at all worried with that right now.

"We heard or seen nothing different than usual, your majesty."

"Have you fallen asleep or abandoned your post anytime during your shift?" The knights were visibly offended by that, but she had to clear all her options.

"No, your majesty. Is everyth-" Having her answers, Jude closes the door, leaving the knights to their jobs. If she was in her right mind she would have noticed that she was still in her bed clothes, her hair was mess, the room was worse and her hands still trembled and her breath was still labored. But she was not her in her right mind. Cardan is missing- He was not here at all. Her husband is missing and she is going to find him. Maybe he was taken outside their bedroom and there is going to be some kind of clue outside of it.

She is about to open the door again when a thought crosses her mind. The lover's bedroom. There is a pathway between that room and the High King and Queen's room. That is how whoever took Cardan got in. No one got in. Hallucinations caused by infections are common, at least for mortals. She slides through the pathway towards the other bedroom but is met with a similar scenario. No window was broken and all of them are closed from the inside, same with the door, no signs of breaking. Stop looking for what you won't find. You know you can barely remember anything after cutting Cardan's head off. It was the serpents head. You know that's the same thing. There was a battlefield where you broke down. You could have easily been stabbed. I would remember it. Would you? Sometimes, our mind purposely forgets traumatic memories. You could have passed out. No. You could have dreamt. Stop. Cardan is dead and you have been feeding yourself this fantasy because you can't deal with the guilt. STOP. You killed him and now you're living in a world without him and you'll keep living in it because that's the reality. I SAID STOP.

Jude. The sound of something breaking. She can't do it. She can't go back to those three days. She can't live without Cardan's mockery. She can't live without his laugh. She can't.

JUDE. She's shaking now, or someone is shaking her, she's not lucid enough to understand. God, he's her anchor. She doesn't know what to do without him. She wants to go back to sleep. She wants to go back to their routine. She wants to hear him complain about waking up early again. She wants to feel his fingers playing with her hair again. She wants-

JUDE! Cardan. She opens her eyes (since when were they closed?) and faces the love of her life's face. He looks adorably worried, full make up and hair nicely treated. She can't help but smile. "Cardan" she whispers, trying not to force her voice tired from screaming and crying (curious, she doesn't remember that). She puts her head in the space between his neck and shoulder and he starts rubbing circles on her back. "Stay" she pleads. Because that's what she's doing, pleading to the universe to let her stay in this fever dream, to have more time with Cardan, even if it isn't real, even if he's dead, even if that's her fault and there's just her to blame.

"Always" and that pisses her off. Because that's what Cardan would say, that's how Cardan looks, that's how Cardan acts and this mind prison has no right to be this close to reality.

"Liar" she spits. He looks mostly confused and a bit hurt but she doesn't care, this isn't real so nothing fucking matters.

"Jude, I would never abandon you-"

"But you did!" she's close to screaming now, but she doesn't care, her voice was cracking, but it doesn't matter. She has to get this out. "You abandoned me for three days because of that prophechy bullshit. You left me to rule Elfhame while simultaneously dealing with the schemings that my father and the frozen royalty was fucking doing and the fact that the love of my life was a goddam snake and then I, and I-" she can't get it out, she still can't believe it.

"You saved me."

"I killed you." she is fully sobbing now, but she can't stop. She gets up (she was sitting down?) and keeps going "You're dead and this is just a manifestation from my brain, because somewhere else I'm also dying and I hope I do because I can't live in a world where you're not. I physically will not be able to continue without you!" She sinks into the floor using the bed as support and Cardan sits in front of her. He has a puzzled expression in his face. They stay some time in silence, Jude catching her breath and Cardan trying to put pieces together.

"Why do you think I'm not real?" he finally asks, his voice tiny as if he's afraid of the answer.

"You weren't there." Jude matches his tone. "When I woke up. I always check to make sure you're there because if you are, then that means you're real and I'm not dreaming. At first, I thought you were kidnapped. That's why I'm here, I thought this was how whoever took you got in."

"My wife, scheming even when she's panicking." he's looking at her with that adoration in his eyes that never fails to take her breath away. "Let's keep scheming, shall we?" He looks at her, waiting for an answer so she nods. "You say that you are dreaming, you're in this coma and you can't wake up. Well, let's test this theory. Did you know that you can't read in dreams?" Another nod. Cardan gets up, picks a book from the bedside table and hands it to her. "Well, can you read?" The answer is yes. The book was a mortal romance that she was sure she had seen in Cardan's hands. That meant that this was real, Cardan was here and she hadn't killed him. Immediate relief washed over and with that came more tears that she hadn't noticed when they stopped. God, she was a mess. This is ridiculous, she is being ridiculous. Trying to look less like she just had a mental breakdown over nothing Jude attempts to clean the tears that don't stop. Of course this is reality, of course Cardan just woke up earlier and went to do god knows what. She's the fucking High Queen and she can't stand when her husband is out earlier, can't keep a cool head, can't-

"Stop." Cardan gently takes the hands that are trying to hide the tears that keep coming, why don't they stop? "Don't do that." His tone is gentle but secure and so goddamn grounding, how does he do it?

"Do what?"

"Close yourself. I could see the moment you realised that this was the reality because that was the moment the mask came back on. You're probably thinking that you don't have the right to feel this way because you can't show weaknesses or whatever bullshit your mind thinks of." Sometimes it's scary how well he knows her. "Don't close yourself from me." He is rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of her hand and it feels so right, everything about him feels so right.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." His tone is becoming more frustrated. "This is obviously bothering you, but I had no idea and because of my ignorance you just had a fucking panic attack." Her eyebrows went up. "I may have been reading about mortal psychology, but that's not important, what's important is," he moves his hands to cup her face and cleans the tears - that have finally stopped - with his thumb. "You don't have to pretend with me."

"You're one to talk." She retaliates but doesn't push him away. "You haven't said another word about those three days since I asked what it was like being a snake on the same day you stopped being one." Cardan laughs because he's Cardan and he laughs when he's nervous and he is not the only one who knows the other too well, she can see in his eyes that the thought of having to speak of those three days of hell terrifies him as much as her.

He moves to her side and sighs. "We really are made for each other, aren't we?" He seems to consider something before saying. "Let's make a pact. Whenever we want the other to open up, we say a code word and they have to do it after we reveal something that has been bothering us. No lies, no tricks, just the plain truth. Deal?" He gives her his right hand. It is always dangerous to make a deal with a fae, but this is Cardan, they have passed the backstabbing phase when she came back from exile. She takes his hand and shakes it.

"Deal. But we have to choose the word, something that we won't say normally."

"California." The place they went on their honeymoon instead of being on the two weeks celebrations of the Mortal Queen's victory over the serpent. The place where they were just two teenagers in love and not The Queen and King of Elhame, not the warrior and the prince, not the people with traumatic childhood, not the two broken pieces of what should be two whole people.

"Sounds great."

"I said it, so I start." He takes a deep breath and speaks. "I woke up earlier today because I had a nightmare. I wasn't someone trapped inside the snake like people like to believe, I was the snake. When the snake died, I died, even if for a few seconds." Jude takes a sharp breath, she always took comfort in the fact that she hadn't cut his head, but what was trapping him, that he hadn't felt anything. Cardan notices and takes both her hands and looks at her straight in the eyes. "I don't blame you, nor will I ever. If I say something assumimg the opposite, you have the premission to cut my head because that is not me. But as I was saying, when I saw you taking out the sword, I couldn't help but feel relief, but when you dealt the blow I, I-" another deep breath "I couldn't feel anything. I don't remember anything. I died. And that terrifies me. I was. I wasn't there. I replay that in my mind countless days, but today was so vivid, I couldn't fall back asleep, so I got out. I needed fresh air. I needed to be alone with my thoughts. I should've come back when it was time to wake up, I should've woken you, I didn't know that you needed that, but if I did, I would have done it."

They stay a few moments in silence, taking deep breaths and deep in thoughts.

"Your turn."

She wants to sugar-coat it. She wants to say that it wasn't that bad, she doesn't want to see guilt in his face even if it isn't his fault. But Cardan didn't sugar-coated when he revealed that what she did hurt him even if he knew it was going to hurt her. So instead, she says:

"Those were the worst three days of my life. I honestly thought it was going to be ok when we were negotiating with Madoc. That we won, they were going to surrender and we would be fine. Then I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe when Grimsen said that only death would save you. I went to Baphen, I went to the Old King, but all of them had the same answer. Somehow I had to rule the fucking kingdom while grieving a death that I didn't believe in. On top of all of that the court of teeths was on my throat, making plans to try to turn you and me into their puppets like their daughter. The relief that I had when I saw you alive was bigger than anything I thought I could feel, but the time between that and when I cutted the sna- your head it was my lowest. It was a hole and I was at the deep end with no way out. I cannot live without you." She stops to look at him. Look at his black hair and his eyes that look like black holes. His pale skin and his small mouth. No, she can't imagine a world without him. But that moment was close, so close. "I am so scared that I will go back to that void, I'm so scared that the universe wasn't as kind as I thought, I'm so scared to not wake up next to you."

He puts his arm around her shoulder and she puts her head on his. Jude looks up and sees tears running down Cardan's face, so she hugs him, feeling his other arm surround her. They stay silent for some time while Carden cries in Jude's shoulder and Jude just holds him close, all her tears wasted a few minutes ago.

"I'm sorry." Cardan was the one to break the silence.

"Not your fault."

"Liar."

"I wouldn't lie to you." It's the truth.

"May I remind you that you said you were fine while bawling your eyes out a few minutes ago?" OK, half true.

"When you have a nightmare, find me. I don't care if I just went to sleep, I don't care if I hadn't slept in days, I don't care if I'm not even asleep and you have to drag me out of my work, find me."

"When you feel like this is not real, find me. I don't care if you have to send someone to do it, I don't care if you run around the palace screaming my name, I don't care if I'm in the most important reunion, find me."

They break the hug to look at each other and say at the same time, "Deal".

"Sooo, do you want to have breakfast in bed and completely run away from our responsibilities?"

"We're the King and Queen of Elfhame."

"Exactly, there is no one above to stop us."

"We have an entire kingdom depending on us."

"Well, as the High King, I order you to stay in bed with me."

"As the High Queen, I'm going to refuse that order."

"Come on, you're mortal, you can say that we are sick or something." Jude's going to retaliate, but honestly? She's exhausted and spending the night in bed with her husband doesn't seem the worst idea.

"You are a horrible influence, do you know that?"

"Does that mean I win?"

She sighs. "Yes, you win."

"Yay" He says, getting up and doing a little spin like a child who was able to negotiate bedtime with their parents. She can't help but smile at his shenanigans.

Next, he does an extremely exaggerated bow and continues. "After you, my queen."

At that, she fully laughs, takes his hand and goes down the pathway with him. She hates being vulnerable, but with him, it isn't that bad. How do we take the armour off? A piece at a time. She feels like they just took another one.

-‐----------------‐-----------------‐----------------‐----------------

So, I had this idea since I finished Queen of Nothing and since I didn't see any fic like this I decided to make it myself. The characters may be a bit OOC, I'm not tha familiar with them. I am not a writer and my first language is not English, so apologies for any mistake. 🫶

Btw this was way bigger than I thought, no idea how many words, but damn, I'm having a brain riot.

[biblicallycorrectangelvenom]

I love my mother but

I still feel the fear of her pinning me against the laundry door by my throat at 12 years old over a lunchbox

I still feel the fear of her yelling at me at the same age for going through puberty and experiencing depression

I still feel the fear of her yelling at me to wear longer shorts because her husband was a pervert

I still feel the fear of her grabbing me up or screaming in my face over eating the last saltines and claiming that "this house is not a 24/7 buffet"

Now at 28, I love my mother but these things have made my adulthood so far very hard because now I'm burdened with unlearning these things and have to lock myself in the bathroom every time panic comes to visit

I love my mother but I never deserved this type of mother

[1heartfanfics]

Carlos PTSD fic as promised. *S4 spoilers*

-Set right after Carlos is held hostage and almost killed in S4E4 "Abandoned"-

"Hey baby," T.K. said as he stepped inside their loft.

Carlos, who was sitting on one end of the couch, gave T.K. a forced smile, but didn't respond.

"How are you?" T.K. asked, even though he already knew the answer. Carlos shrugged.

Sighing, T.K. took off his coat and his shoes, setting his bag down on the floor before joining Carlos on the couch. Carlos was staring down at his lap, looking small somehow.

"Hey," T.K. said, ducking his head to try and meet his lovers eyes. When he was unsuccessful, he reached out to touch Carlos's cheek, gently turning his face toward his own.

"Hey," Carlos whispered back, eyes were wet with unshed tears.

"Oh baby," T.K. sighed, his heart hurting, "Rough day?" he asked.

"No. That's the stupid thing," Carlos said, turning away from T.K. The tears had started to slip down his cheeks, but he sounded frustrated.

"What do you mean baby?" T.K. asked, confused.

"I had a good day. I took a walk and ate two whole meals and did some laundry. Like a normal person. But then it got dark and you were just a little bit late and now I'm fucking crying," Carlos explained, letting out a sound that was something between a forced laugh and a sob.

"You can have good days that aren't all good," T.K. told him, taking one of Carlos's hands in his.

"I just feel so stupid," Carlos said, swiping angrily at the tears on his face.

"Hey," T.K. said softly, "Be kind to yourself. Recovery isn't linear, and it looks different for everyone. You are entitled to feel however it is you feel whenever you feel it," he continued.

Carlos sighed, slumping back into the corner of the couch. He looked so small again, all of the anger and frustration seeming to have left him, replaced by exhaustion.

"Why don't we go to bed?" T.K. suggested, feeling pretty tired himself after a long day on shift.

But this was apparently the wrong thing to say as Carlos sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide as he gripped T.K.'s hand more tightly.

"Okay, hey, it's alright. We'll just put on a movie and lay down out here okay?" T.K. amended.

Carlos nodded, relaxing again. He shifted to let T.K. squeeze in behind him then maneuver them so they were both laying down, Carlos leaned back against T.K.'s chest. T.K. quickly turned something on the tv, then wrapped his arms around Carlos, holding him tightly. Carlos fell asleep to the sound of T.K.'s heart beating.

-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

T.K. woke up with a start, feeling like not much time had passed since he'd fallen asleep. He realized the weight against his chest was missing and forced his eyes open to see Carlos sitting on the floor in front of the couch. His knees were pulled to his chest, slumped forward with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth.

"Carlos, baby?" T.K. asked, rubbing his eyes to try and wake up as he scooted closer to his boyfriend.

He quickly realized, Carlos was hyperventilating, breath coming in short gasps that caused his shoulders to hitch. Shit, panic attack. That woke T.K. up. He quickly got up off the couch, sliding their coffee table out of the way so he could sit on the floor in front of Carlos.

"Hey, I'm gonna touch you okay?" T.K. made sure to let Carlos know before reaching out to grab both of his hands. Carlos still startled for a second before relaxing slightly into the touch when he realized it was just T.K. When he looked up, T.K. could see the fear in his eyes.

"I can't- br-breath," Carlos gasped, one hand fumbling to grab at T.K.'s shirt.

"I know love, but it's gonna be okay," T.K. said, voice steady. He moved Carlos's hand, which had found a fistful of his t-shirt, to rest over his heart. "Feel that?" he asked.

Carlos nodded slightly, but his chest continued to hitch with labored breaths, tears streaming down his face. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

"Eyes on me baby, just focus on my heart beating," T.K. said softly. Carlos opened his eyes, locking them with T.K.'s. He managed to take in one good breath full of air, but then lurched forward with a sob, which took away all of his air again.

"Fuck- Tyler I-" Carlos cried.

"Hey, Carlos, look at me," T.K. said, "I know you're scared but I promise you're safe, I've got you. But we gotta get your breathing slowed down baby."

One of Carlos's hands still pressed firmly over T.K.'s heart, which was beating strong and steady. T.K. moved his other hand to hold Carlos's cheek, rubbing his thumb gently to dry the tears that continued to fall.

"Focus on my heartbeat, and breath with me," T.K. said, starting to take slow, exaggerated breaths for Carlos to follow. He knew that if Carlos stayed worked up like this for too long he'd make himself sick.

Slowly but surely, Carlos breaths became less erratic. The steady stream of tears had stopped and his breathing returned more or less to normal.

"There we go, you're doing good baby, just keep breathing," T.K. said, continuing to demonstrate the slow, measured breaths. But then his breath suddenly hitched, facing turning pale in the dim light of the hall lamp.

T.K. was already reaching for the trash can next to the couch when Carlos said, "I'm gonna be sick-". It was in his lap just in time for him to pitch forward and throw up into the bin.

"Easy babe, I've got you. Just get it up," T.K. soothed, moving to sit beside Carlos so he could rub his back as he coughed and spit into the bin. Apparently he hadn't gotten calmed down quickly enough. Being anxious and panicked had always turned Carlos's stomach.

A moment later Carlos slumped against T.K.'s side, head on his shoulder, obviously spent. Between the panic attack and the vomiting he had to be exhausted. T.K. gave Carlos a few minutes to breath, then silently helped him up off the floor, leading him up the stairs to their bedroom. They laid down together, Carlos's head resting on T.K.'s chest, so he could feel and hear his heart beating.

"You're safe here with me," T.K. whispered, running his fingers through Carlos's hair. That always calmed him down. He only hoped that Carlos could sleep through the rest of the night.

[leviiackrman]

I am fighting for my life to be mentally stable and it’s not working

[bippity-boppity-whump]

Whumpril Day 11 - Grounding

Joaquin first time getting back into the air doesn't quite go to plan.

(Panic attack trigger warning)

Sam was turned away from Joaquin on the green outside. He was dusting off his new set of wings, they had just come in. After his wings were destroyed, Sam put in the order with Wakandans. They were more than happy to help after they had seen what had happened to Joaquin. 

The kid had trained like a mad man to get back in the air again. He had trained a little too much in Sam’s eyes given he was complaining about the suit being too tight now but they could deal with that later after his first time in the air again. 

When he turned around again, he could see something was wrong on Joaquin’s face. He was clutching his chest and his breathing was all over the place. 

“Joaquin?” The look of panic in Joaquin’s eyes sent chills down Sam’s spine.

“Sam- something’s” Sam darted forward and caught Joaquin as his knees gave out from under him. 

“It’s okay. Joaquin, look at me.” Joaquin looked at Sam but it was like he was looking through him instead. 

“I can’t-” Joaquin was pulling at his suit, as if he was trying to get it off. “I can’t breathe.” 

“I think you are having a panic attack.” Joaquin looked confused. “I need you to look around you and name five different things you can see for me.” Joaquin looked more puzzled for a moment before doing what Sam said. 

“I can see you, the- the grass-” He took in a breath. “I can see the sky, your car and the windows to the office.” Sam nodded his head. 

“Now four things you touch. I want you to touch them.” Joaquin’s hands shakily felt around him. 

“I can feel the concrete, my suit, your hand on my shoulder and-” Joaquin’s hand shot to shield over Sam’s shoulders. “The cool metal of the shield.” 

“Good, good.” Sam could see Joaquin was slowly coming back from the panic attack. “Now three things you can hear.” Joaquin closed his eyes. 

“I can hear my heartbeat, I can hear the birds and the wind.” Sam nodded again, Joaquin’s breathing was almost normal now. 

“Two things you can smell now.” Joaquin sniffed the air a little. 

“The freshly cut grass and your aftershave.” Joaquin’s shoulders relaxed a little more. 

“What can you taste?” 

“The sour patch kids I had earlier before I got changed.” Sam nodded as Joaquin breathed normally again. “How did you-?” 

“You were having a panic attack.” Joaquin blinked as he accepted what Sam was telling him. 

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean too-” Sam held both his shoulders firmly. 

“It’s not your fault, kid. These things happen. I can help you with them. I’m not surprised you are having them given what happened.” Joaquin looked down sadly.

“These aren’t going to go away are they.” Sam sadly shook his head. 

“No but we can make them better and more manageable. I’m going to be right here with you.” Joaquin nodded.

“Thank you, Sam.” 

[tinywafflerat]

I forgot to post him but uh. here he is

angst yaaaay

[hopelessromantic5]

Opening to a very long fic that I’ve been working on forever.

Merlin and Arthur meet as young teenagers instead of young adults. They grow and mature together. Arthur being aware of his magic the entire time. Also Igraine lives because I love her.

As far back as he could remember, life as a human, for Arthur Pendragon, was confusing.

When he celebrated his 5th name-day, and was gifted a brand new sparkling mirror for his chambers, Arthur would sit for hours looking at himself. At his body, wondering what was going on inside that he could not see, but could feel. The constant beat of his heart, the expanding of his lungs as he drew breath, of course he didn’t know the names of all these things yet, but he knew they were important. They must be, to be locked in a cage of bone and flesh. To be hidden from the world.

Some days, Arthur would peer into the looking glass and would not recognize himself. As if he were looking at a stranger, or a mythical creature that his mother liked to tell him stories of. It seemed so foreign, to have hands that flex and move muscles all the way up his arms, to stand on two legs and walk about the world, trying to do what, exactly? His young brain was attempting to compute things that no one has just one answer for.

There were times when Arthur could feel his mortality and physical limits like cold iron bars, he didn’t have a name for it, yet it always settled into his chest and left him staring at his canopy, unable to sleep.

But other times…

Other times he felt like he could fly off the ramparts, or take on an army with a hand tied behind his back. As he grew older, he learned to request leave from his father to practice riding when he felt this way.

By 10 summers, Arthur was more proficient with horses than most adult nobles, and nearly up to par with the infamous knights of Camelot.

His training started a year later.

[strawberryfaced]

haven’t had such a night in quite a while :’) almost forgot how to handle

[marlowethelibrarian]

SE Snippet: Dunelae the Panic Attack Queen

cw: cutting and self harm under the cut.

There was no time to cry and scream, and certainly no time to set herself back to rights afterwards. Dunelae braced her hands against her dresser as her breath heaved against her chest. “Everything is fine,” she tried to tell herself. “You got this. You have this.” It wasn't working. She couldn’t make it sound convincing enough. Each breath was just as heavy, just as strained. Dunelae drew her belt knife, the sharpened bronze edge polished to a mirror finish.

Just the weight in her hands was a steadying presence as she lifted her leg, sliding the blade against her ankle. She held her breath. It was a calculated move, old scars distributed around her ankles, easily attributed to a young rambunctious tayra. Dunelae had no interest in pitying looks or the boys she drew to her bed asking her about her scars. On the exhale, she cut, drawing out a thin line of pain, barely deep enough to draw a pinprick of bright red blood. It pierced through the panic like a skewer through an overripe tomato. It grounded her, the burn of it sending a deep shiver through her bones, resetting her panic to focus herself on the present. Her body made itself known again, and she was remade aware of how it overlapped the space she occupied, how it shifted when she breathed with her whole body, the flex of her shoulders, the rise of her chest. It was centering, and she sighed with relief.

[ravasz]

hc + fears

Fear was a bitter and merciless companion of Martyn Stark, ever lingering in the back of their mind, lying in wait, prepared to force them to relive their worst memories, to make them snap, to have them reach for temporary solutions to deal with the overwhelming wave of emotions that would swallow them whole, suck all air out of their lungs and watch them twitch and squirm and wither away into an eternal state of dread, numb to anything, or anyone else in the world. 

The air in his bedchambers was cold, even though the servants had done everything there was in their power to bring heat to the walls of the castle of Highgarden. Fists shook on each side of his with the amount of strength he squeezed, fingernails leaving crescent moon shaped dents in his palms before he stretched his fingers out, needing the tension in his body to go somewhere without making a scene. The last bucket of water was poured into the bathtub, steam rising in the air from the heat. He asked for the water to be as hot as possible. Joked about wishing he had a dragon hatchling to keep the water at its boiling point at all times, shielding himself with a couple of laughs from the insecurity rising up in his chest the longer the whole process took. 

He truly hated it. Needing someone in that way. Having to strip their carefully built up walls around her. Having to trust that she wouldn’t say a word about it to anyone. She was the only person he insisted would come along with them all the way from home. It was because she knew, and she did not judge him, at least not to his face, and she would, above all else, could keep his damn secret.

“Thank you–” The rest of the attendants bowed, and made their way towards the exit when Martyn uttered one of their names. “I’d like you to stay Holly, please.” A weak smile of his was met with a knowing look and a nod from the attendant, and a suspicious glance taken between the other two before they made to leave. Having rumors about Martyn Stark’s dalliances with staff circling around the court were a lot better than what he really needed her for. 

A sharp inhale was taken as he grabbed the goblet filled with wine from the table beside him, and with one go downed the whole thing. He cared not for its taste, only its effect, needing his mind at the least bit more quiet before he stepped closer to the tub. He concentrated on his breathing as he undressed, while Holly moved on to pour some oils and herbs into the water. She tried to make conversation, and he responded, without the usual quips and innuendos, having a smile on his face that never quite reached his eyes. 

He flexed his fingers again. 

Martyn took the last piece of clothing still on, his shirt, and pulled it over his head, tossed it to the side, not wasting any longer before getting into the tub with a silent hiss as his cold skin submerged in the steaming water. One leg. Then the other. One hand at the edge of the tub, gripping it hard as he slid down, and waited for the ripples to stop. The water was so hot that it prickled his skin underneath, and yet it was more than needed to numb any other senses inside that were screaming at him to get out as soon as he could, lest he drown right there and then. 

Washing with only one hand, pausing sometimes to catch their breath, asking Holly a question or two to keep a conversation going, it all became a routine after many years. They looked at their reflection in the water, albeit somewhat murky, trying to keep their breathing even as they mentally prepared for the worst part. They collected some water in their palm then splashed their face with it, hands remaining over his cheek as they kept staring. "...Will you help me with my hair, please?" He finally muttered, almost ashamed, as if Holly hadn't done it a hundred times before already. As she stepped behind them, they pulled their knees up, wrapping their arms around them, thumb unconsciously caressing their own skin to soothe himself. He tilted his head back when told to, eyes closed, waiting for it all to be over. They kept quiet, not focusing on the water but instead on the sensation of her fingers through their hair, letting the feeling linger, anything that would distract them from the water flowing down their head and back. A couple of minutes passed, and a frown gradually formed on their forehead, forgetting about their breathing altogether and having to open their eyes, frantically looking around the room to try and ground themself. Their gaze landed on her, eyes welled up in tears that they could not control. "That's enough." He swallowed thickly, tilting his head back down, restless to get out of the tub. "Fetch my nightshirt." He paused. And then added "Please." with an apologetic voice, hoping that she understood their need to be away from the water as soon as possible. They counted down the seconds while they waited for her, loathing the feeling of getting out of the bath and having the cool air of the chamber against his wet body. They washed their face off one last time, hoping that the tears wouldn't be too obvious, then got up and out of the tub as soon as Holly arrived with the towel and shirt. 

It wasn’t always this difficult. Sometimes it would be over before he knew it. Sometimes he would even make time go faster with a song or two. Sometimes, Holly would tell him the most outrageous story, one that would make him laugh louder than ever. And then, there were times like this one. Usually followed by an event that snapped something in him, that brought him back to that cold winter morning a little over fourteen years ago. 

He woke up early that day. Earlier than the maesters, earlier than the cooks, or the crows, or even their father. It snowed heavier than usual that night. Martyn wanted to be the first to step into the fresh snow, to make a trail no one had done before him. Mother had told him not to run so fast. To look, before he stepped, to use caution. No one knew what was hidden underneath the snow. Hills and trees all covered in white, impossible to navigate through, even for someone that had grown up among them. One step. Two cracks. Another step. And the world disappeared from his view. Cheeks once bright red with warm blood now pale as ever, touch colder than that of a ghost, hands trembling as if plagued by constant dread of the heart, mind weak and twisted from memories of unbearable cold, lungs going into a fit at the sight of water. 

It was a curse Martyn had inflicted upon himself. Winter flowing through their veins until the end of their days, unable to feel true warmth ever again. And the eternal fear residing in him, enveloping his heart in ice, feeling its cold touch with each beat, tormenting him whenever he was in the presence of water… it had to stay a secret. No one else could know. Not his siblings, nor his mother. They couldn’t know the severity of it. He wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye again.

[lonelybeholding]

Gone

...Well, Mr. Omniscient, I don't quite understand how you don't already have all the answers to our little predicament."

That's a surprisingly insightful idea, Peter. One moment as I...

...

...

Uh, Elias?

...

Elias?

...

I...don't know. I don't Know. I...can't feel the Beholding.

Its presence isn't obscured, it's gone. I...

...I can't see.

I can't SEE, I can't—

Elias!

Elias, breathe.

You need to breathe.

...

...

I'm perfectly fine Peter, I don't know what you're talking about.

Elias.

...

[bittersweetblasphemy]

hey so i really dont appreciate being confronted with graphic depictions of something that i know is a trigger for me. like. i have a dozen tags and key words blocked around this one thing because i know it's my responsibility to curate my own online experience.

but if you're going to post this thing, which is vastly different from your regular content. with absolutely no appropriate tags. is extremely graphic. all for the sake of guilting me into caring about a current event i already care about but have fuckall control over as a poor cripple who lives oceans away. i really don't appreciate it.

[takemetodragonstone]

there’s nothing like a phobia-induced panic attack to really wake you up in the morning