#tw nail trauma

[gorepill]

i cannot conceptualize the abby verbally that easily torture so imagine the nail scene from the higurashi when they cry anime and put abby in that little nail pulling mechanism

THAT AWOKE A MEMEORY DEEP INSIDE MY HEAD. I NEVER WATCHED THEE ANIME BUT THERE WAS A TIMEI WAS OBSESSED WITH WATCHING VIDEOS ABOUT ANIME. AND I WATCHED A 10 TEN VIOLENT SCENES AND THAT WAS IN IT. HOLY SHIT YES. MAKE ABBY DO THAT, make her suffer suffer suffer :) she's be bawing her eyes out on the first nail but still keep going !!!!! :3

[sanguine-salvation]

X

[ For every “X” my muse gets in the inbox, they’ll name one thing that makes them squeamish. - ACCEPTING ]

Okay, the curiosity is starting to make them suspicious. They're going to wake up covered in butterfly cocoons and getting chipped like a pound puppy, aren't they. Good luck with that.

"Torn out nails. Fingernails, toenails, I don't care. They make me... itchy. In the back of my skull. Stomach hurts. Seeing one makes me want to tear my fingers off."

"... If any of this becomes a problem, I am removing appendages very very slowly, I don't care whose. Gone, you hear me?"

[norts-trolls]

Hi Noctis I like your nails :) is that polish?

Noctis: It's metal, originals were ripped out for training then replaced with cheap shit. I put in something better later. Though they might as well be normal nails at this point.

[wormzandgutz]

Have started getting flashbacks whenever my bare toes are near the kitchen chairs

[cannibalkissies]

I nail trauma'd myself... fucking send help

[archive-double-knots]

brain decided to remind me that aspen exists. so now im thinking about her.

specifically: I'm thinking about her clawing at the trunk around her waist, fingernails prying at the wood until splinters are stuck in her skin, blood beginning to oxidize around her edges, scratches mark the entire trunk, there's no bark left until you get to where she can't reach--the tops of the trunk dig into her stomach, and if she leans too far one way she begins to bruise, and the rough edges will even puncture through her shirt and into her skin. she can't feel her legs, and she's not even sure if she has them anymore. the entire clearing around her is void of sound, not even bird songs are heard, and at night it's dark, unnaturally so, the stars are the only light and even they seem dim in comparison.

Some days, Aspen's throat goes raw from her screaming into the woods; but she's not even sure if she could be heard from the center of the clearing. she coughs up blood from how much she screams some days. Other times she's silent, so silent and motionless that one could mistake her for a scarecrow. Then without warning, she'll flail in a desperate attempt to free herself, only ending with more blood, more bruises, and her chest heaving as her lungs burn.

There is no escape, and she receives so little visitors, it's not surprising she tries to grab onto anyone who gets close enough. the few creatures that do come through the clearing regularly stay far enough away from her that she can't hold them, they avoid her eyes, and they won't even look at her. They know better. They know the consequences for doing so. But that doesn't make it any easier on Aspen.

She knows the only way out of her prison is to burn it. But no matter how much she tries, she feels his eyes, she hears the singing, and it taunts her. On the rare occasion she'll see the light through the far off trees and she screams, thrashes, but it never gets closer. The clearing never changes. Nothing ever changes here.

[nobetafortomorrowedie]

It really bothers me when people describe the way I grew up as "sheltered" when in reality I was not being sheltered or protected. I was intentionally confused. I was kept in the dark. My reality was being controlled.

[spnintheyearofourlord]

Thinking about Sam and how central autonomy and violation is to his character. How many times and ways he had his choice taken away throughout the series. All the things we don’t know about his time with Lucifer, but are also so heavily implied that we do.

Imagining he eventually gets out of The Life and becomes a victim’s advocate. He ultimately decides not to try and pursue law school at this stage in his life—it’s been so long and so much has changed—but finishes his bachelor’s and pursues a master’s in social work. He never expected to end up here: the boy with the demon blood, no longer living out some doomed and twisted fate, helping people. He’s passionate about representing those made most vulnerable and unsafe in their own skin, supporting others as they come out the other side survivors, lending the compassion he’s always struggled to have for himself. Every time he listens to someone else’s story, helps connect them to resources, advocates for their case, he heals a little bit too.

[trauma-tin]

🤍🐇

[dopesotherstuff]

Things you shouldn't teach bullied kids...religion edition

Apologies to Christian friends, but this has to be said:

"Turn the other cheek" is a rancidly bad piece of advice to give young kids who are being bullied or abused. It's right down there in the toilet of bad ideas next to "just ignore them". Especially since kids take such advice literally and will end up defenseless, confused and even more damaged as a result.

Remaining passive in the face of bullying guarantees that the bully will continue, will escalate, and will probably invite others to join the fun. And they will. Because here's a target who doesn't fight back--who thinks GOD HIMSELF doesn't want her to fight back--and bullies never, ever stop once they find a good target.

At least, until they face real consequences. The consequences could be being roasted, humiliating pranks, getting in trouble (if you can find an adult willing to step in), or just straight up getting a punch in the teeth, but whatever they are, they need to happen. Otherwise, the bully will just keep taking pleasure in an innocent kid's suffering.

[Below is a screed about the consequences of expecting kids to act like holy martyrs instead of protecting themselves, and some advice for young folks trying to reconcile religious pacifism with the need to protect themselves. It's not an easy read and wasn't an easy write, but I'm hoping it will help someone.]

Meanwhile, the bullied kid, who just wants to do the right thing and please God, ends up traumatized, beaten down and wondering why God wants her to be so miserable. If she cries, prays, quotes the Bible, or explains her principles while being bullied, she will be bullied even harder. (Do you really believe that those little playground sociopaths care what God thinks?) And by the time they're done with her, she'll be going through religious trauma to go with the emotional and physical stuff, because the advice to endure and pray just made things worse.

After all, God's not going to step in and help or even comfort her. God is not going to grant her unshakeable confidence and strength to shrug off her suffering. God is not going to warn the bully or make them feel bad. God is not going to prick the consciences of lazy, uninvolved teachers, parents, and administrators to make them get off their asses and help.

God is not going to help. That's what other humans are supposed to do. But in a typical bullying situation, anyone with the power to help has already decided not to. Adults will even hobble her further with the warning that they will punish her for fighting back. She will be left on her own, told she's not supposed to defend herself, with no idea what to do or how to make the abuse stop.

That is exactly what "turn the other cheek" sets bullied and abused kids up for. Wrongheaded religious pacifists may even try to say that the child's suffering is somehow normal or even beneficial. Which is, and I really mean this, an incredibly shitty thing to do to a child.

Now I know some zealots think that suffering is Godly for everyone regardless of age, and we should all be prepared to make sacrifices to keep our covenants, et cetera. But the reality is that encouraging children to passively accept bullying and abuse, or respond to it with piety and kindness, is going to destroy their childhoods. And that is way too much of a sacrifice to expect from someone who is young, vulnerable and likely to be scarred for life by the experience.

Kids are not meant to be martyrs. They are not supposed to spend their childhoods going through constant, agonizing, permanently damaging tests of faith. They are too little to even begin to cope with that, and any adult who thinks that kind of ordeal is good for them or just what they should expect as a good Christian shouldn't be allowed around kids.

Discouraging kids from standing up for themselves aids and abets their bullies and pretty much guarantees you'll end up with an anxious, depressed child with low self-esteem and stunted social skills. If they're also very Christian, the experience won't just damage their minds, hearts, self-image, and trust in others. It will also damage their faith.

Do you really think that's right and good? Do you really think that's what God wants?

Don't ever, ever tell bullied kids to turn the other cheek. Get off your ass, put your love into action, and give them real help with the situation. Get involved, help them learn to stand up for themselves, and while you're at it, have a little chat with the "responsible" adults who just stand by with their thumbs up their butts and let this all go on.

If you hide behind "turn the other cheek" instead of actually helping a vulnerable child, in the end, you won't get a wise and resilient kid who is strong in her faith, forgives everyone who hurt or failed her, and believes that her suffering was somehow worth it.

You will get a traumatized kid who very likely has both her faith and her self-esteem in tatters. And all because you gave her a Bible quote and left her to fend for herself instead of actually helping.

Is putting a child through this what you want? No? Then...

...stop failing kids by using a misguided application of a Bible quote to convince them that God doesn't want them to defend themselves!

Whether they are facing childhood bullies, an abusive parent, a lascivious priest, a would-be child trafficker, or a violent "friend", kids need to know that it is okay to stand up for themselves, protect themselves, and defend their own boundaries. Telling them to "turn the other cheek" instead is child abuse, because it sets them up for years of completely unnecessary suffering.

Yeah, I know Jesus said it. But would Jesus say it to a little kid who is suffering with no help? Would Jesus tell that child that it's not okay to protect herself? Do you really believe that? Because I can't. I seriously doubt Jesus was out to recruit ten-year-old schoolyard martyrs.

No real, loving God could possibly want that done to a kid. And no loving, Godly person would give advice that makes things easier for people who victimize kids, by discouraging kids from resisting.

And if making kids more vulnerable to abuse is their actual plan...it ain't God they're working for.

***

Oh, and if you're young and can relate to this story:

Don't turn the other cheek when someone is victimizing you. Please. It will very likely make things worse.

Stand up for yourself. Do what you have to to keep yourself safe. Be clever, be tough, be sneaky, and be your own best friend, because you do not deserve to suffer.

You absolutely deserve to be happy and safe--yes, even if you're not a perfect person. And even if you have no friends, and none of the adults around care, and you have preachy idiots in your ear telling you to just endure it, you must remember that you deserve defending. Even if you have to do it yourself.

Don't just leave your protection in God's hands. Any adult who tells you to do this when people are hurting you is either deluding themself, or just making a stupid excuse not to give you real help.

Stand up for yourself, whether you're telling that creep on Facebook's mother about what he just sent you, laying a chili-pepper trap for that pig who always steals your lunch, or making your bully cry. Save "turn the other cheek" for conflicts with those who have a working moral compass, not abusers. You can forgive your bully and feel remorse for being a little mean after you have made sure that he never tries to pull his crap again.

It's far better to just be imperfect, and sort things out with God later, than to try to be perfect in horrible circumstances and end up broken, traumatized and struggling with your faith. Especially when you're just a kid.

Oh, and do yourself a favor. If someone is preaching extreme religious pacifism at you after hearing of your situation, they may mean well. But if all they do is preach and lay expectations on you and not help, you may well have to disappoint them. Unless they're actually stepping in to help you resolve the situation without having to retaliate and it works, your priority should be stopping the abuse as safely as possible by whatever means are at your disposal. Not satisfying a sanctimonious, uninvolved person's idea of what God wants.

[codenamehazard]

.:Jabberwocky:.

Chapter 32: Jabberwocky

[TRIGGER WARNING: PSYCHOLOGICAL ABUSE, TORTURE AND TRAUMA]

Hey guys! Sorry I'm a bit late with this chapter! The character voice was giving me serious hell! (Writer's Block, my behated)

Though it's not surprising considering all that I have in store here! Good god, I had to fight to get the words on the document but boy howdy is it worth it!

I hope you've got some water as this is gonna be a doozy. I hope you like this chapter!

Without delay, let's jump in!

---

“No…”

My blood freezes in my veins and my heart races as I stare with wide eyes at the mirror behind me. I’m looking at it, I’m seeing it, but I don’t want to believe it. I refuse to believe it. I refuse to believe that the bastard is here in this hell-maze with me, that he’s here at all. I can deny it all I want, but the mocking smile in the mirror. I know what’s in front of me, replacing my reflection and confirming a fear that I always dread…

Kessler.

“Look what the rabbit dragged in.” The decrypted echo sneers as he begins to circle me in the mirrors that surround me, stepping in front of the other reflections as if they were spectators about to watch a fight. “The coward who denies the truth, even though it’s staring him right in the face.”

“So says the murderer that took everything from me just because he was too much of a fucking coward to face the Beast himself until it was too fucking late.” I snarl back at the twisted reflection, trying to use my rage and hatred to thaw the frozen blood and shake the fear away. “You took away everything I held dear, that we held dear; You killed Trish, you made Zeke betray me! You made my life fall to shambles and even fucking lied about what the Beast was actually doing, all for what?! All because you were too chickenshit to actually protect your family and fight the Beast.” The bastard fucking laughs at me like I was just a yapping ankle biter.

“Oh that is rich coming from you, Cole.” That fucking crone cackles with that sneer. “The one who kills for shits and giggles calling me a murderer. All the pain I caused was done for a purpose while you inflict pain because you are broken inside.” I can feel my blood seeth as he talks, energy gathering in my hand as I keep my eyes on Kessler. “Face the facts, Cole. I would say you’re no better than me, but I dare say you’re worse. All that I did was for a reason while you lash out like a pitiful, sniveling rabid dog who bites and scratches at all who get too close.” I could swear I can feel his stinking breath on my neck as he stops behind me.

“Try as you might, MacGrath… You will always end up alone and you will have no-one to blame but yourself. Because it will always be your fault.”

My rage flares red hot and an Alpha rocket rips from my hand towards the old fuck, but I damn near get blown to bits. In my fury I had forgotten the nature of the very place I’m in. The rocket just bounces off the mirror and I barely have enough time to get out of the way of a direct hit. I curse to myself as I feel the pain from the blast radius, why the fuck did I even think that was a good idea in the first place?! Kesslar cackles at me as I stagger to my feet.

“Still as predictable as ever, Cole!” The crone scoffs as he seems to grow bigger, like a looming shadow. “Lashing out when you know I’m right.” As much as my anger bubbles under my skin, the fear, it creeps back in. Feeling so small, being so helpless. There’s only one thing I can do. I turn and run down the closest hallway to get away from this specter and start looking for a way out.

I can hear the bastard laugh at me over the thumping of my boots and the rapid beating of my heart. Mocking and sadistic.

“There you go! Running away again like the cowering mutt you are! Running from the truth and running from responsibility when it comes to take its due! Breaking the promise you made to yourself so long ago!” I curl my lips at the barbing words, but I have to keep running. I can’t fight, not without obliterating myself in the process! “Maybe it’s for the best that Trish is dead. She isn’t here to see the whimpering coward the man she once loved has become!”

My rage claws inside my chest as I want to scream.

The mirrored halls, I swear they’re messing with my head. I think I could see things changing, I look at one shifting reflection, watching it change into a sight disturbing and familiar. It was myself from years long past, but something’s not right. It’s faded, black and white. Almost like I'm staring at a fading memory, but the eyes I can see, clear as day. They look tired, but also full of pure hatred.

Another reflection, this one more vivid and crisp, one I’m more familiar with. The reflection that greeted me every time I looked into glass windows or puddles back in Empire City. God, I looked like I was walking dead with how pale my skin was, and the black marks that decorated my body didn’t help either. I liked it that way, people left me alone, but now being on the receiving end of that malicious gaze and cruel smile? I’m having second thoughts.

“You!” I hear a new voice ring out as I run. It’s not Kessler’s but mine! It sounded clearer, less gravelly and tired. Oh please don’t tell me the other reflections can talk too!  “I see you, running away, running from the truth! The truth that you’re just as responsible for the destruction of my life! Actually, more responsible!!” I growl at that lie. I didn’t do jackshit to destroy the life I once had, if anything, I was trying to get it back! The blame is Kessler’s and his alone.

“I can hear your thoughts, Cole!” The faded echo barks out with loathing and hate. “You weren’t trying to get life back on track, you were just acting on your own selfish impulses! If you had just sucked it up and been a half-way decent person, Trish would have loved you in her dying moments! But no, your own ego was more important than the woman you claimed to love so much!” I do my best to tune out the venom, but the words cut like knives as I feel a familiar pricking against my eyes. No! I can’t cry, not now! Not when Kessler’s chasing me.

As one voice is tuned out, another erupts in cruel, callous laughter… This voice, it sounds more like how my voice actually is.

“Oh how the mighty has fucking fallen, o’ so called “Demon of Empire City!”” I hear the doppelganger’s voice call out. “Once on top of the world sitting on a throne of scrap, now you’re nothing more than a sniveling weakling running around helpless.” Rage flares in my blood, but I have to keep moving. I can’t fight here, I have to get out! Get away!

“You sicken me. You know that, Cole?” The echo sneers. “You’re a failure. You failed to protect Empire City from the Beast, you were too weak. Running with your tail between your legs to New Marias. Then you bow the knee to the Beast himself just because of some pathetic notion of “the right thing” or some shit like that. Now look at you, you have the power of the Beast yet you’re running scared when you could simply blow this whole place to cinders.” I want to scream at the voice, tell him to shut up, blow up the mirror that the doppelganger hides in, but I know I have to keep going. Doesn’t make the words any less infuriating and painful.

“Why don't you unleash all that power, Cole?” The taunting continues. “Are you too scared? Are you not as powerful as you claim to be or…. Perhaps… Are you getting soft, you pathetic failure?” Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!!

I pick up the pace, my hands covering my ears to drown out the cruel words and venomous barbs as they start to swirl around in my head. Now I am being hunted by three, making my heart frantic. The fear and pain, it was like I was losing Trish with the magnitude of it all. I want to get out of this hell, even if it means disappearing! I just want it to stop!

I think I see something, but I refuse to look at the reflections. I think I hear something, but I refuse to uncover my ears. Enemies everywhere even though they wear my face. All thirsting for my blood and tears. Such things I refuse to give despite the stringing at my eyes. Soon my own voice joins the hellish cacophony, screaming at these demons as that is all I can do.

The more I yell, the more I run around practically blind and deaf, the more confused I get. At this point I’m not sure where I’m running. I can faintly hear laughter every time I clip myself on a corner, ram into a wall or run in circles. I’m lost, so hopelessly lost in my desperation for freedom. My voice is going hoarse from shouting and screaming. The idea of just going fucking nuclear and unleashing hell in the form of the Beast’s Rage is becoming more and more appealing, but with the nature of this hell, that would surely kill me in the process.

I stop at a dead end and fall to my knees, my eyes welling with tears that spill over as I rage inside this mirror nightmare. I just want it all to stop. I want this to be a night terror that I’ll wake up from but I know this is reality. My arms growing tired from holding my hands over my ears, they go slack. I am now exposed to the full brunt of the devils’ venom….

Wait… Who said that?

A voice I didn’t hear before screams with a similar force that I did, but the words they speak aren't venom and hate, but…. Instructions? Directions? I can’t tell at this moment, but it’s something that isn’t loathing and malice. At first I don’t believe these words, thinking them to be a trick or a trap, but with the hateful sounds closing in and with no other option… I follow the directions.

It’s then I see who the voice belongs to. Another faded and blurry reflection, but this one looks unfamiliar. It’s still me, but he shares my tanned skin, his scars barely visible, his shirt grey and white, Amp shining like silver and the sparks off of his hands a brilliant blue… This is what Kessler wanted me to be… A hero.

The blue sparked reflection continues to point and shout directions, seeming to be trying to help me, but why?! I make it no secret, I am not a good person. If this is the hero Kessler wanted, he should be hurling abuses at me just like the others. I’d even go as far as to say he’s the one with the most right to hate me as I am the reason he doesn’t exist. Yet here he is, trying to help me.

I open my mouth to question, but my blue twin snaps. “Not the time, Cole! They ain’t gonna stop for you to ask questions.” I get the message loud and clear and keep running.

I follow the instructions, focusing on that as it’s better than the miasma that I’m being subjected to. I have so many questions to ask, what is happening? Why is it happening? Why are you helping me? Just anything to make sense out of this fucking madhouse, but I keep moving, hoping that I’m not falling into another trap.

My heart sinks as I see that I’m at a dead end and I’m about to bolt, but I notice something… At the end of this hallway is another mirror, but with a very different reflection.

I cautiously walk towards it and squint my eyes, it looks… Fuzzy, almost like a photo that hasn’t been developed. On closer inspection, I can see some things that make it look more like a reflection of my current self, black pants with kneepads, my vest. Visible, yet blurry… The only thing I can see clearly are the eyes of this copy. They’re closed, as if sleeping. What could this mean?

As I look over this mirror, I notice something else. The cruelty of the three devils hunting me, it’s gone. This area is quiet, still and peaceful. Here with my heroic twin, but why is this so? At this point, I care little for the question as I slam my back onto a reflective wall and slide down into a sitting position, hands holding my head as my chest shudders and heave with tears I’m fighting back.

“Not giving up on me are you, Cole?” My blue reflection asks. I sniff a bit as I struggle and shake my head. “Nah…” I reply in a voice that’s more strained than I’d like. “I just….. Need a breather.” The white clad hero nods his head and simply sits in a way that mirrors mine, back to back. “Take your time, Cole. Catch your breath.”

This peace is strange, but compared to the hell I was subjected to? It’s a soothing balm on my mutilated soul and I let some of the tears flow freely. A small relief to keep the dam intact, for now at least.

When the peace has passed, the heroic MacGrath pipes up. “I know you have a lot of questions, but since it’s just us, best get them out of your system.” I turn my head and I can see the blurred reflection turn in kind. I start off with a simple “Why?”

“Why what?” My blue twin asks. “Just… Why? Why is this happening? Why am I being tortured? Why are you helping me?” I ask back in kind. The hero frowns and shakes his head. “As much as I want to answer the first two, all I can say is your guess is as good as mine as I have no clue either… But I can answer the last question. I’m helping you because I can’t stand this suffering.”

“But why?” I continue to question. “You out of all the reflections have the most reason to hate me. I’m everything you would stand opposed to, hell I’m the reason you don’t exist. Why help me when you could come after me as some sort of punishment?”

“And subject you to this hell?” He balks “I wouldn’t even wish this on Kessler, let alone myself. Good or evil.” His eyes stare off into whatever silvery void the mirrored world has. “Besides… I got to see where my path leads to. Got to see that even though I did everything right, it meant jackshit in the end.” He turns to glance at me again. “That all I did was pointless. Utterly pointless”

I’m about to ask him to elaborate, but he shakes his head. Something must have gone completely fubar if he doesn’t want to talk about it even if it’s to bitch and vent.

“So…. Where’s the exit out of this hellhole?” I ask, the heroic twin turns his head and points to the mirror at the end of the hallway. I turn to look at him like he’s crazy. “Um, that’s a wall.”

“It’s the way out.” He simply responds. “It’s the only way out. The reason there’s a wall is because you believe there’s a wall.” I shake my head at this crazy talk. “How do you know if that’s a wall or not?” I question the reflection. He looks at me. “You’re going to have to trust me and by extension, trust yourself.”

“I don’t do trust fall-type bullshit.” I point out bluntly. “You should know this as much as I do.”

“Why would I lie to the only one of any of us in this damn mirror hell that has a future at all?” My blue twin points out harshly. “It’s a cold hard fact, Cole. Out of all of us here, you’re the only one who has a chance at living.” I stand and he stands in kind; both of us staring at each-other, man-to-man.

“While you are right, you are everything that I stand against. You’re selfish, egotistical, ruthless, sadistic, irresponsible, downright dangerous and destructive to the point of senselssness, but you’re also fucking honest about it.” He points out. “Then there’s also the fact when it came time to choose between a gamble that if it fell short would leave everyone to suffer slow and agonizing deaths or go with John and the method that was proven to give humanity even the slightest sliver of a chance to come out the other side. You chose what you felt was right. It may not be what Kessler wanted and there may have been selfish motivations behind it, but you still made that choice.” I look at my twin puzzled, but he’s right… Right about everything, good and bad.

“This is your ticket not only to escape this hell, but to escape Kessler for good.” He continues. “That bastard already took two futures away from you, your future with Trish and my future. Don’t let him take this one away from you too.” His words ring out in my head like a gunshot as I look towards the blurry mirror. “I know it’s a leap of faith, but please take it! Take it and get the hell out of here! Live the best life you can… For the both of us… Please…” The last words fall like a pleading whisper. Looking into the same blue eyes we share, I can see it. The same eyes I have, the eyes of a broken man.

I stare at my good twin for a moment longer before I nod my head.

With that, I turn to face the blurred reflection. I step back a few paces and charge up a polarity wall to act as a battering ram, hoping that this won’t backfire. Unleashing all of my emotions in one, booming battle cry, I charge.

I swear I can hear the ghost of a whisper in my mind. A soft “thank you” as I make contact only to fall through thin air.

I roll through the tumble and onto my feet before looking around, panting hard. He was right… It wasn’t a wall, it was an illusion… Was that whole maze and the horrors within an illusion too??

Once I’m not disoriented as shit, I start to look around this new place. I see bleachers, a trapeze and a barrier… Am I in the center stage of this fucking circus? Before I can start to explore, I hear a familiar female voice ring out with an Irish accent.

“It’s about bloody time you showed up!!”

[st4rkissedwebz]

[🦠] is charlie actually a demon or are the horns accessories?

The horns are acessories

[aropride]

truly what is life without suffering of some kind

[spring-lxcked]

thinking abt the time william was asked why he never took the kids to meet their paternal grandparents and he was like "first of all they're dead. second of all, HA—"

[wellen-katze]

The box - Astarion,Tav bg3 Comic [TW Trauma]

I hope you have someone who would do your nails for you 💅

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: The Storm Inside Your Mind

Request: Anonymous said: "tyler x reader with panic attacks"

Word count: 2k

Warnings: panic attack tw

A/N: obviously stole some of Kate's trauma for this one... I feel like I've written a few fics where reader has panic attacks now, so sorry if this sounds repetitive at all. But as always, thank you all for the kind words, replies, and comments on my work. It's super encouraging and very appreciated!!

The team isn’t chasing today. Instead, you set up the RV and some tents at a campsite, hoping to enjoy what little time you had left of tornado season. 

Tyler gets a fire going while Boone and Dexter drag the camp chairs around it. There’s only half an hour or so left of daylight, and the crew decides s’mores will do just fine for dinner. 

Boone makes a joke about s’mores meeting all his nutritional food group needs, everyone laughs. Tyler settles into the chair beside you, his knee gently grazing against yours to catch your attention. 

When you look at him, he winks. A silent toss of affection. A sweet reminder that it’s you and him, even amongst the chaos of all your friends. 

The sun sets, casting a thousand shades of pinks and purples through the sky. It’s mesmerizing– the evening is perfect. 

It’s amazing how quickly things can fall apart.

All it takes is one note– 

Dani grabs their guitar and begins strumming softly to no tune in particular. Then Boone shouts out a song request that makes your breath catch. You try to be subtle, but you notice Tyler’s eyes lingering on you, because he can read you just as well as he can read any storm. 

You offer him the best, most reassuring smile that you can– and it must be good enough, because he looks back towards the fire. 

You pick at the skin around your nails, because it’s always been a good distraction. But even that isn’t enough when Dani plays the first note– 

“Took my love and I took it down,” they sing softly. 

And then suddenly, you can’t breathe. All you can hear is your best friend asking you to turn up the volume to her favorite song when it had come on the radio only minutes before everything had gone so, so wrong. 

Normally, you can talk yourself down from these moments, you can practice all the grounding exercises your therapist taught you and move on. But you feel the sense of panic creeping up your throat and it’s strong and fast. You don’t think you can deep breathe your way out of this one without anyone noticing.

In a rush, you stand up from your camp chair and mumble something incoherent about needing to go. It’s not very subtle, but it’s all you can manage before stumbling into the RV– aiming for the bathroom. 

Tyler calls your name, but all you hear is the sound of your friend screaming it over the increasing winds as they reached for you. 

From there it only gets worse– 

It comes in waves– memories of Fleetwood Mac still playing from the radio while you sat in the car and frantically tried to decide which way to run– the realization that no matter where you went, the tornado was going to consume you– knowing that the overpass was the worst place to go, but your alternative was remaining out in the open. Your name tumbling from your friend's lips as she begged you to help pull her up the ramp because her shoes kept slipping. The sound of her scream when the chunk of debris sent her flying into the storm. You losing sight of her body after only a second– 

The bathroom door rattles. “Y/N?” Tyler calls with a knock. “What happened?”

“What happened?” your friend’s dad had asked with tears spilling down his cheeks after the officer told them that their daughter was dead. “What the hell happened?” 

“There’s no storm,” you whisper to yourself. “The skies are clear– there’s no storm.”

Tyler calls your name a second time and knocks harder– the door rattles. You grip the edge of the sink and bite down harshly on your lip to keep yourself from screaming. Because despite the calm conditions outside, the storm inside your mind is here– it’s rattling the door and shaking the RV– it’s creating dark clouds, and causing them swirling around in every corner of your body– winds are flying through your stomach and your chest, the air is heavy, it’s harder to breathe– 

You put your hands over your ears and sink to the floor helplessly. 

“Y/N, answer me,” Tyler’s panicked– you can hear it in his voice. “I swear to God, I’m gonna kick this door down–”

You try to inhale– to tell him not to do that– that repairing a door will be expensive. But instead of finding your words, all you can do is choke out a desperate sob. The storm has stolen all your air– it’s sucked it right from your lungs… 

Before you can try again, the entire bathroom shakes when the hinges on the door break loose with a bang. Tyler’s eyes land on you– huddled on the floor, gasping for the breath you can’t find. 

Except– it’s not Tyler. It’s your friend’s dad. He’s come to get you– to kill you like you killed his daughter. 

You attempt to push yourself backwards on the floor, but the bathroom is small and soon, you've only managed to wedge yourself between the toilet and the wall. You try to speak again– to tell him how sorry you are for getting his daughter killed– but you can’t. Clutching desperately at your chest, you heave and heave, squeezing your eyes shut. 

The storm inside your mind causes the clouds to start swirling around chaotically– 

The storm inside your mind rips trees right from the roots– 

The storm inside your mind destroys everything in its path– 

“Baby–” a familiar warm voice cuts through the fog. And then, suddenly, someone grips your knee, causing your entire body to seize. 

“It’s me,” a gentle voice murmurs. "Hey, it’s me.“

Through your foggy haze, you recognize Tyler’s touch– and when you open your eyes, you see him squatting down to get on your level. 

But your knees– you open your mouth to say, except all that comes out is a gasp– a plea for help. 

“Okay, it’s okay. Look at me, baby,” he says. “It’s okay– you’re okay.” 

“I– can’t–” you gasp, your own hands flying up to grip his forearms for some sort of lifeline to reality. “I can’t– breathe–” 

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says. He’s trying to stay calm, but you can hear the uneasiness in his voice. “With me.” 

He gives a deep, methodical inhale before letting out a slow, intentional exhale. “Just do it with me. Slow, like this.” 

He continues, and you try to match his pace– to breathe with him, but it feels like the storm has stolen your lungs– ripped them right out of your chest– 

“Tyler–” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I can’t–” 

“C’mon, with me,” he repeats earnestly. He’s looking at you with terror in his eyes, but you find comfort in their familiarity just the same. “We’ve done this before, you know how to do this.”

“I– I–” you stammer, but the words won’t form. 

“Shh, with me. Everything’s okay. I’m here. We’re both okay,” he assures you. His gaze is just so tender and soft and careful while his thumb grazes your cheek. 

“I- I can’t-” you choke again, “Please–”

“Shh-” he soothes. “Look at me, nothing else, just me.”

Your wide, desperate eyes meet his. You don’t say anything, just shudder and gasp frantically.  

“With me,” he repeats.

Tyler slow and calming, in and out breathes. After a few seconds, you latch onto the sound, mimicking it, and then finally follow along. 

“There you go,” he whispers.

Your facial features slowly start to relax as you’re able to breathe properly.  Without your loud, choking sobs, you’re able to hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest frantically.  

“Good job,” Tyler sighs. “Look, it’s just you and me, we’re okay, we're both safe–” 

But he can’t even finish his sentence before you lean forward and reach for him. Tyler takes advantage of your gesture and quickly grips under your arms, yanking you from the corner and pulling you forward. He sits back on the floor, back resting against the door frame while he rests you on his lap. As soon as he’s settled, you wind your arms around his neck– desperate and longing for some sort of comfort. 

Strong, sturdy arms wrap around you as you hide your face into his chest. You breathe him in, letting his familiar scent wash over you. The sound of his heartbeat races in your ear (bum, bum, bum, bum). It reminds you that you’re both here– right now. Not stuck in an underpass, not chasing a tornado. But here– on the floor in the RV bathroom. 

“It’s okay,” Tyler soothes. Upon feeling your shaky body pressed against his, he squeezes tighter. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I got you.”

You melt against him in response, bunching the fabric of his shirt into your fist, trying to communicate just how badly you need him to hold you right now. 

And that’s exactly what he does— until you can finally breathe on your own again. 

And then the wave of guilt comes.

Suddenly the realization of everything hit you– what a basketcase you’ve been, running off like that, having a meltdown in front of everyone– you probably scared the shit out of them. And then there’s the door– broken right from the hinges. 

Slowly, you pull back. 

“Are you okay?” Tyler says before you can even open your mouth. He brushes the strands of loose hair from your face.  

You exhale a deep, shuddering breath that you can feel down your entire body. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice raw. 

“Baby, you don’t have to run from me when you’re having a panic attack. I’m here for you, you know that.”

“I know,” you whimper. “I know– I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to freak out–”

“Shh. Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” Tyler says. “You don’t have to apologize. I just– I want you to come to me when you’re struggling. I want to be able to help you.”

“I just—” you start, but you stop when you notice how choked up your voice sounds. You take a slow breath. “I can't think clearly when they come. All I could think about was getting away. I didn't want to scare you– I wanted to prove to you that I was doing better– that I wasn’t going to freak out all the time. But it–” 

As soon as you feel the tears burning behind your eyes, you dig the heels of your palms into them frustratedly, like you were physically trying to push them away. 

“It was the music. That was her favorite song.” You didn’t even have to say your friend’s name for Tyler to know what you were talking about. “I just… I heard that first note and I panicked– I just felt like I had to get away.” 

Tyler nodded in understanding. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he whispered. “Next time, you drag me to the bathroom with you and we’ll get through it together, okay? I think that’ll save us many doors in the future.”

You exhale a puff of air, your best attempt at laughter. 

“I’m just sorry you have to deal with me all the time. You have enough on your plate,” you groan, rubbing your tired eyes. 

Tyler sighs. “Baby, I drive around and chase tornadoes– shoot some fireworks into the air when I’m really feelin’ it. I think I can handle being there for you on top of that,” he says. “I love you. And I want you to be okay, always. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

Nodding slowly, you lean forward and rest your forehead on Tyler’s chest. 

Strong, warm arms anchor you to safety. You hold on to Tyler– letting the sound of his heartbeat (bum, bum, bum, bum) block out any noise from the raging storms inside your mind.