#tw; panic attack

[happybird16]

Tw; panic attack

I had a bit of a panic attack recently and was just inspired to write this little comforting thing?!?

It's too loud.

The room is filled with a cacophony of noise, the overlapping voices and clattering of plates creating an overwhelming sensation in your head. The tiny, unfamiliar dining room is packed with friends and familiar faces, but the tight space feels suffocating, making you increasingly claustrophobic. The walls seem to close in, and panic grips your heart, causing it to beat rapidly, as if trying to break free from your chest. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess, making it challenging to focus on anything else.

Struggling to maintain a composed facade, you force a smile despite the turmoil brewing inside. Deep down, you long to release the pent-up emotions, to find some respite from the overwhelming noise. The desire to cry, scream, or find a quiet corner to retreat into becomes almost overwhelming. But instead, you hold it all in, attempting to regulate your breathing and hoping that no one notices the struggle you’re going through.

The fear of judgment only adds to your distress, making you hyper-aware of the gazes around you. You feel as though their eyes are prying into your inner turmoil, magnifying the sense of unease and vulnerability. The imaginary sensation of their eyes digging painfully into your skin only adds to the weight on your shoulders, amplifying the anxiety and making your skin itch. Eyes locked to the half eaten meal you've become far too nauseous to even bother picking at, you take a heavy, shuttered breath.

You have to go. You have to get out of here. Now.

Your knees tremble slightly from the surge of emotions, but you gather your strength and resolve to get up from your seat. With each passing second, the noise and commotion seem to intensify, making it harder for you to maintain composure. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you carefully plan the words you’ll use to excuse yourself. Your mind races, seeking a valid reason to leave without drawing too much attention to your distress. Nausea surges forward to flood the back of your mouth with an acrid taste.

A tender touch gently disrupts your racing thoughts. Sitting next to you at the table, Levi subtly nudges his knee against yours and discreetly places his hand on your thigh, offering a reassuring squeeze. In an instant, the world seems to slow down, and a wave of relief washes over you.

As your eyes meet Levi’s soft blue gaze, a sense of calm washes over you, enveloping you like a soothing embrace. The noise and chatter in the room seem to recede into the background, and in that moment, everything becomes a little less overwhelming.

You can feel the depth of his care and understanding reflected in his eyes. It’s as if he sees right through you, recognizing the emotions swirling within, and that realization makes your heart skip a beat in your chest. With just a look, he manages to convey the reassurance you need, as if he knows exactly what you’re going through without you having to say a word. There's no judgement, just worry and concern.

Without uttering a word, Levi's fingers tighten around your thigh in a meaningful squeeze, silently asking if you're okay. With a heavy swallow, you nod and reach down to intertwine your fingers with his, finding comfort and strength in his presence.

In that moment, you realize that with Levi by your side, you don't need to escape to find solace. Amidst the noise and chaos, he’s your own personal breath of fresh air.

[raina-jones]

Asking For Help? Not Really My Thing

When Raina had shut the door to her apartment a few hours ago with no plans and only a few dollars in her pocket, she hadn't expected this. Here she was, knees pulled to her chest, sitting with her back against a random fence. Her breath felt like it was caught in her throat and the ringing in her ears wasn't helping. She knew what this was, it'd happened before, but she'd never been alone when a panic attack hit. The nausea, the dizziness, the tingling of her fingers; all of it made it almost impossible for her to focus. She could make out a shadowy figure coming towards her, but that was it. "I'm fine..." she choked out.

[shiroi---kumo]

It's only a dream || Accepting

( @aquaticsoul ) ->

 ‘ night terrors ‘

because he doesn't want pilvi to have to deal with things alone anymore

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ It was only a dream. It had to be because Opettaja is right here and he is alive and the white prince is setting in a bed that is not his own but it smells like all his loved ones. They are all here. Somewhere in this building, they're here and he can hear them and ...and ... and...

He doesn't know what else.

The feeling of one of His Excellency's blood red tendrils is slipping around his throat as he tries to think about it. He doesn't know if that's real either. He's dreamt of his teachers, his binds, so many times but he's never really woke to them when he sets up screaming.

That probably was hell on Opettaja's ears and he should probably apologize for that but the building doesn't smell like Gaudium even if it looks like it. Oscha could be playing another trick on him. He doesn't remember Herba coming to collect him once more. He doesn't remember breathing in anything weird or drinking anything strange but then again that was the point and even when he did, he doesn't remember.

He doesn't remember anything ... He doesn't remember... How did he end up in a room with Opettaja in the first place? All he knows is - he is in the middle of a very well built nest that is filled to the very brim of the scents of everyone he loves and that is something he can say he likes. He very much likes and Opettaja is right next to him and he can hear and smell him so clearly too.

His Excellency would never allow this. So why is he here? He saw Herba kill the man but then he - no - didn't he? The tendril is tightening around his throat as he takes the time to think. How dare he take the time to think?! He knows better. He knows and his hands are up and tugging at the blanket that is loosely wrapped down over his shoulders as the panic sets in.

Why is he fighting back? He knows better than to fight back but Opettaja is here and he doesn't want him to have to see this. He doesn't want Opettaja to have to watch him die and see the truth in his immortality.

When did he tell Opettaja he was immortal?

He must have. He doesn't remember doing it but he must have.

"I'm sorry." He sobs as hands firm on the blankets close to his throat. "I'm sorry, Your Excellency."

He doesn't even remember what he did to make the little beast so angry this time, but it was obviously something and if he didn't act soon then he was going to die and Opettaja was going to be forced to watch. Worse, Opettaja was going to be forced to deal with his corpse when he doesn't fade.

He is the only Misterican in all of history that has ever left a corpse and he can't say he cares for it. He can't say he cares for that fact at all.

"Please spare me, Your Excellency. Please."

He hates the fact his sobbing isn't fake. He hates the fact that every tear is as real as the last he does the only thing he knows how to do in this situation and that's to cry and beg forgiveness.

"Please Your Excellency." He tries again as he struggles a bit to get every crawling tendril on him off of himself but it all feels as hopeless as it ever does.

"Please, Your Excellency. Please don't make him watch this."

[ddollfface]

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭 (𝟎.𝟏)

Trigger Warning; depictions of violence, insinuating domestic abuse, borderline panic attack, insinuating child marriage, bad writing, unrealistic expectations being placed on a girl,

If I missed anything, then let me know ♡.

If you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship, then please, please call this number. Relationships, like the one written below, aren't normal and should be left immediately. Please, take care of yourself and your loved ones. 800-799-7233 (National Abuse Hotline)

Word Count; 459

A woman's blood-curdling scream ripped through the halls of the lonely mansion. Bouncing off the marble walls, making the wooden floors cringe with pity, the cry reached the ears of a little blonde. The little girl, curled in a tight embrace, lay on the floor, covering her ears to attempt some sort of peace. God, she just wanted to be free. She just wanted it to all stop. Would someone save her from this burning hell?

Sadly the girl's cry wouldn't be heard by any.

Instead, she was alone with the pitiful cries of her mother and the manic arguing of her father and brother. What time was it? Lifting her head, the girl looked up at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It looked ominous back at her, giving her a look of shame. Shamed that she was sitting on the floor crying. Shouldn't she be in bed? Just fall asleep, oblivious to it all? Unfortunately, that wasn't the girl's fate. She wasn't some innocent little girl. She lost that privilege a long time ago. Because she's fifteen she has to be aware of others, she couldn't be blunt as she was soon-to-be-wed. But this is unlikely to happen because of her mother. The woman was highly protective of her only surviving daughter. The woman had many daughters that resided in heaven. Safe from the chaos of this horrible home.

The girl flinched at the sudden creak of the floorboards as it struggled to support the newfound weight. Snapping her head towards the sound, forgetting the time, she searched for the cause of the disturbance. She immediately relaxed once she realized what the figure was. It was just Fluffy, the family cat.

The cat's figure was adorned with long white fur, piercing eyes, polished claws, soft paws, and a cute pink nose. Fluffy was a cute little thing. Everyone loved the little cat, besides the head of the house, the girl's father. The man resented animals and hated his wife for bringing such menaces into his home.

The small cat swayed its way towards the crying girl, then began to snuggle up to her chest. Adjusting and shifting its body to get into a comfortable position, once comfortable it laid still. Inviting the girl to do the same. Hesitantly, the girl placed her hand on top of the small creature's head. Moving her hand back and forward in a comforting manner, massaging the cat's skull. In return, the cat began to purr, showing its satisfaction orally. The girl felt the serotonin being released just by the simple motion, she instantly felt calm. The atmosphere was friendly, the opposite of that down the hall.

This pleasant scenery would quickly change, as happy times never last long. 

[terrence-silver]

❝ i just want to be held for a little while. ❞ with old man terry?

John has reminded him of the minefield and Terry seeks out warmth.

Or rather coolness, away from the eternal burning out on the fields.

There's a tucked away backroom to the dojo where you sometimes stay, waiting for the classes to be over surrounded by extra lockers, training equipment and neatly stacked tools --- not that Terry wants you waiting in what is effectively the equivalent of a windowless closet space, but he never liked you being seen or eclipsed by anybody --- and that solace is where he instinctually heads to, in silence, seeking a familiar comfort out like a moth seeks out a flame, nearly shaking by the time he finds you there, as on cue, your smile dropping once you spot him and no doubt his expression, standing up from the bench where you tend to sit away from everyone else, a look of concern on your face once he closes the door firmly shut behind him, wanting absolute privacy. Mine. Nobody should see you because you're mine. There's a certain ritualized presenting of the neck in this act of vulnerability, he understands. Him coming to you in this state like a wounded, feral animal. If he was to share with you such a private, personal weakness, he didn't intend to share you as you were with anybody else. The students supposed someone was waiting for him after every class but they've yet to see that someone and he intended to keep it that way. -"Terry, what's wrong?"- You ask worried, coming closer, hands hovering around his shoulders. It wasn't wise to be around him when he was like this, but you're the only one he wished to be with right now. You've never seen him like this. No, you haven't. Terry himself barely sees himself like this. In equal measure, he barely forms the sentence he wants to form.

-"I just want to be held for a little while."-

He gets in control of himself briefly and he utters his words seamlessly --- before you can even say a thing, your eyes brimming with uncertainty, his hands are around you, his face hidden in the crook of your neck, refusing to let go, backing you into the wall with his weight. The darkness and the heat of your throat is a refuge and an antidote --- he feels the explosions in his mind cool and quiet down, like a distant heartbeat. The noises and the images John brought back subside. Your arms hang low and limp for a while, possibly confused at the situation and then you hug back and Terry's shoulder's relax. He's not in Vietnam anymore. He's somewhere in the abyss and the place is pleasant with you there. His therapist, while he still had one on stand, told him that having someone around when these episodes and panic attacks took place was good. Someone he trusted. Someone who can keep him grounded. Someone who had context. You did have context. Of the war. Of everything. You simply had no context what John said to him some odd half an hour ago and Terry wanted to keep it that way. Strangely enough, he never wanted you to have a reason to outright despise John. Not even Terry did. He simply despised his own weakness. So, he seeps up the sponged up feeling that leaks out of your embrace and he finds himself pushing you from the wall back to the bench, laying atop of you there and simply being held. Terry might've commanded you to stroke his hair at one point, because you do. It is lulling. The jungle opens and there's a clearing. He loves you, his mind tells him, and with that thought, he falls asleep.

Terry wakes up still being held. You and the darkness are good company.

How hard has he been squeezing you? Tight enough, if you couldn't let go.

[uuponastarr]

( closed starter for @fairytalefires ) * leif

the youngest arendellian prince, sat on an empty bench in town, starring off into the open space that surrounded him. as he sat quietly, his head swam with questions and fears, all which were quickly beginning to their toll on him. he could only pretend that everything was fine for so long before reality began to hit him like a ton of bricks. with his hands trembling, elliot glanced up, tears quickly beginning to fill his light eyes. “ how long is this going to go on for? “ he asked out loud, to no one in particular. “ how long do i have to keep pretending im okay when deep down i know i’m not? “ he questioned even louder, feeling as a if a heavy invisible force was pressing down on his chest. dragging his hands through his hair he began to panic, “ i don’t know how much longer i can do this for... “ he admitted aloud. 

[rocxyoulikeahurricane]

"I'm in a hospital. I don't want to be in a hospital."

{ Roth is agitated. He doesn’t want to be here. A bad memory is causing fear. He’s reliving a terrible memory. }

The angel had gone through similar things, so he kind of knew how to handle this. "You're ok Roth, I'm right here, you've been discharged, I'm here to take you home". He bent down. @hellcab

[cupcakeslushie]

i love the donnie and timothy content 🥺 but now it’s getting me to wonder about the love language between leo and usagi and how they show affection toward each other

They show affection by basically being ride or die for each other lol. Their love language is…battle. Their first kiss was after a exhausting fight with the Foot, where they kicked absolute ass. They watch each other’s backs no matter what.

[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!

[wolfnanaki]

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish | Puss’s Panic Attack

[downbadf0rficppl]

someone's there

Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack

Repost

You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.

You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.

Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.

And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.

The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.

You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.

She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"

Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.

Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.

You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.

Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.

The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.

The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.

Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.

The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.

You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.

The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.

"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.

The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.

"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.

You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.

By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.

You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.

But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.

To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.

You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.

You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.

As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.

Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.

He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.

You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.

You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.

He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.

You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.

It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.

You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.

"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.

"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.

"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.

"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."

"The pizza place?"

"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."

You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.

"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.

"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.

"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."

"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.

The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.

"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."

June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.

Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.

Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.

You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.

Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.

A teenager was on the phone with the police.

You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.

The door swung open, letting in a draft.

Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.

Sirens.

"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.

A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.

"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.

You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.

"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.

"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.

You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.

You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.

"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"

He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."

You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.

"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Take me home, Buck."

fin.

buy me a coffee

[factual-fantasy]

I wanted to draw something that showed what happens when Glamrock Spring and Fred are separated. And I was SOOO CLOSE to keeping it serious... but then the savage corrupted Moon idea came to mind and I couldn't not draw it XDD

Now don't worry! They got reunited shortly after.. XDD

Though now that I got the funny out, I'm tempted to make an actually serious comic about them being separated.. 🤔

[shiroi---kumo]

Royal Knights of His Majesty || Accepting

Send    ‘ you’ll have to get through me first… ‘    for my muse’s reaction to yours stepping in and defending them from someone they’re scared of

@flameleads is growling:

"You’ll have to get through me first." [ because Roy said so ]

There had been a small bit of a squabble when the Amestrian Colonel came to learn what he had been doing all this time. It wasn't that the Misterican had been keeping the nature of his activities from the man out of ill will but more because he did not want to cause the man anymore turmoil that he had already been feeling and he also did not want to bring anyone else with him because of his airborne nature.

It was just simpler to search from the skies when he did not have to worry about what was happening on the ground, at the same time. Black Wind would have been the only suitable searching companion, but this wasn't adding to their on going search for Chaos so - so that wouldn't have been a productive conversation either. 

So now he finds himself walking through the first town they've seen for at least a day. Cid had been gracious enough to give him more time on that blasted timer since this time he was out with company but there had been a long talk between the Misterican and the Mechanic about staying aware of his surroundings, keeping his head down, if he feels unsafe for any reason they are to return immediately without hesitation. 

There had been a groan and a sigh from the prince in question to ultimately he had agreed to the commands. Eversti was adverse to flight, so that meant they were stuck on foot with only the supplies the swordsman's travel bag could carry. He didn't know how long they would be out this time but he can't imagine that Eversti would want to return before he found some kind of information on his children. 

This village was much like others he's visited in this patchwork world. Nondescript buildings surrounded by nondescript people. A girl of blue hair, and young but still an adult looking in age made eye contact with him when they entered so he only looked to offer her a smile even with hidden lips. 

Her head was snapping away as quickly as it could until his voice chimes.

"Excuse me, Miss? Can you help me for a moment?"

And pink eyes only widen as her face pales and the woman finds herself practically frozen in place. 

"L-L-Lord M-M-Makenshi." Her voice shakes in the same way a leaf would when the wind rustles through the trees. "What an honor it is for you to grace us with a visit today." 

His face grimaces when she speaks as his shoulders raise in his tension only to fall again in defeat seconds later. His hands raise up, flat as if to stop her trembling without touching her.

"This is entirely unnecessary.  I just need a bit of your help, if you would be so kind."

"Ah - I - Of course My Lord, whatever you desire." 

"You really don't need - It's fine. I just need to know if you've seen any children recently that don't belong to the town. Humans. One would have yellow looking hair and dresses in red. The other tall and in a suit of armor.  Have you seen anyone matching these descriptions?"

Her head shakes quickly as her arms stay folded with her hands close to her chest.  The fear in her eyes made plain as she looks at him.

"N-n-no My Lord. No one. No one has come through the village for several days, but I can't claim to pay proper attention to all who cross these parts. Fo-forgive me for not being more useful."

He's sighing again as she sounds and waving a hand in the air as if to dismiss whatever wrong doings she thinks she's committed.

"That's quite alright. Thank you for your time. "

He can hear the man behind him groaning and as he turns to face his companion there are words he doesn't know if he's quite ready to deal with at the present moment.

"When we met, you told me to call you Makenshi. Not Lord Makenshi. Why do these people call you that?" The Amestrian inquires.  "What's more... they're terrified of you."

There is no motion to turn around and face the man. There's no motion to stop as he simply starts walking again instead of answering his question.

"That's not... important. We need to focus on finding any information we can about your sons before Cid's blasted alarm goes off and checks in on us."

He's still not stopping, and the only other motion the Misterican makes is to lift his left wrist where the mechanic's invention lives and he shakes it as if to draw attention to it instead of him.

The dark haired man's eyes are narrowing on his companion as he speaks again. 

"I'd say that's pretty important. People don't tend to want to help someone they're afraid of. That, or they'll be too busy panicking to remember anything. So, what's the story?"

But the Misterican fails to turn once again and continues to keep walking. They don't have time for this right now. Cid might have given him more time this round but the blond was still checking in on him regularly to make sure progress was being made or seeing if they could do anything on their own end should useful information come about, so the words 

"I will explain it all later. We need to focus on the task at hand." 

are all that leave the Light's Unlimited, causing him only to stop in his tracks when he can hear the man's body practically shift and become ready to fight back.  Misterica's heir does the only thing he can think to in that moment and that is to turn on his heel and he swings his arm snapping his right hand clearly in front of the younger man's vision as if to pull his attention straight to him. 

His voice raises and he yells "Focus. Do you want to find your sons or not?"

But obsidian eyes are burning. Burning like Brother's fire and he can feel their heat rolling in his direction. He can't say he much cares for it either. 

"I am focusing on the task at hand. We won't get anything out of these people if they're afraid. I know that for a fact."

There are eyes on them now and he can feel the village's gaze fix on his person from his back to his front. They're making a scene and now this village is fixated on the ghastly intruder that has crossed into their sacred land. 

"Well I can't change that, so just keep moving." The annoyance is growing in a tone that is normally so very gentle as jade eyes narrow down and his nose wrinkles from behind his mask. 

"He's angry."   

                   "Oh no. That poor man."  

                                                                               "That's Lord Makenshi isn't it?" 

                "It sure is. That poor fool's spoke his last line." 

"No one escapes the devil's wrath."

                                                  "Children go inside. You don't need to see this." 

    "Only an idiot would raise their voice to  one of the Lords of Gaudium." 

                               "Especially of all of them - him." 

It's then that the Amestrian's eyes burn hotter than ever before as he bellows

 "You think I don't want to find them? Do you know how agonizing it is to not know if they're alive or not? I told you already that I lost my son once. I've been nothing but forthright with you. Can you say the same?"

The town fills with the sounds of small gasps and doors closing. There are as many people fleeing the streets as there are now staring at the man in white waiting to know what he'll do next. What will Lord Makenshi  -  

"I have told you what was relevant to finding your children and getting you and your people home. That's what matters here. Returning you to your Amestris! So stay focused!!" 

The masked man's voice echoes as he meets the Amestrian's passion in kind and doors slam all around them. 

"This is the end."

 "Surely Lord Makenshi is going to kill that man." 

"Get the children off the streets. They don't need to see what is about to happen!" 

  "That boy. He dresses in white."

 "That devil no doubt." 

                                         "Are you a fool? that's Lord Makenshi"

 "Lord Makenshi?! Why would he be here?!" 

                               "You know if he shows in your town then everyone is doomed." 

"We've done nothing to anger Gaudium why would he be here." 

                                                                    "Lord Makenshi truly is the white devil." 

                                        "We're all going to die."

               "Keep your voice down, they say he has the ears of a demon." 

       "Because he is one." 

                   "Oh how have we been scorned by God to deserve this."

                                                       "We're all going to die because of that human!" 

And that was when the volcano erupted.  Everst's voice ringing loud to encompass the space around them. 

"I am. No one's going to talk to us if they're afraid." He gestures to the closed doors. "I can't be much help if I don't have more information." He's pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please, just give me something to work with so we can at least get through this town." He pauses only to glare further. 

"Or, am I really going to die because I pissed you off?"

He's been listening. Eversti has been listening to the space around them and he can hear doors slamming and a mixture of footsteps scattering and marching. He can hear so much going on at once that he can't answer.  He can't answer as his hands raise to cover his ears as he feels his body shake from the fool of emotions that are rushing his system faster than he has a chance to process -  

Marching.  It's a little further off on the edge of town.  He can hear marching.  The organized sound of boots against the dirt. 

                                         "Search the town. Leave no stone unturned." 

               "If we can bring our God, Lord Makenshi then surely he'll reward us." 

"I don't care if you have to burn it to the ground - no one leaves this town until we find him." 

                                                "Spread out." 

His breathing is picking up by the second as his mind fills with static. It's happening. He's caught. He's caught if he stays here too long and he can't fight inside the town. He can't give these people more of a reason to hate him then they already do. He's panicking as his head darts up and his hands fall away from his ears. 

He's looking in one direction and then the opposite as if to check to see if he can spot any of the opposing threat. His incoming captors if he's not careful.  They won't - they can't harm the town if he's not in it.

"They're here." He states frantically,  looking at the Amestrian with a wild look in his eyes. "They found me."   

The man in white looks as if he could be spooked by his own shadow before he turns away from his companion and runs.   

"We've never met."   echoes back from his trail as he forces himself into what is left of the crowd in the streets, only to weave in and out of buildings and back alleys until he can find himself coming to forest on the outskirts of town. 

There's no time to look back. He'll find Eversti again once he knows the coast is clear but he cannot let Gaudium take them both.  He cannot let Gaudium harm Eversti or the town.  So his left hand is flying up to his left ear, thumb pushing against the button along the bottom while he sounds out trembling. 

"Cid? Cid?  Cid can you hear me? Cid are you there? Cid answer me! Cid answer me! It's - It's Gaudium.  Cid answer me! It's Gaudium and they're on my trail. Cid! Cid I need Black Wind! Cid you have to tell Black Wind! Please Cid! Cid Answer me!"

'Why would anyone answer you, Little Cloud? You think they're your friends? I told you once and I'll tell you again. The people of this world don't care for you. They never have and they never will. That dog can't save you either. Why do you beg for someone who cares nothing for you?'

He can't be hearing this right now. He doesn't have the time. He needs to get away from the town. He needs to get away from the town so should they find him, they can't make the people of that village page for his disobedience.

Just like so many had in the past.

So many forced to pay his debts.

So his mask is flooding back as he lets his steps slow. His heart is doing no such thing, but his feet come to halt nonetheless. He needs to focus. He needs a way to run. He needs a way to get away unseen, so he needs to act like the Misterican he is and make himself some form of cover.

Quivering lips are parting as he lets himself exhale. One long and deep exhale to allow a rolling cloud of thick white to leave him. It floods through the trees, covering the ground to swallow all in it's path. This should buy him some kind of time. This should - give him some kind of advantage. At least this way they wouldn't be able to see and even if they could - it wouldn't be as well as he could. Not with his Mist in play.

No, his ears were far too sensitive for that.

He just needs to hide long enough until his soul's breath takes effect and puts them all to sleep. He just needs to wait for -

"This isn't going to work."

"If you think you can wait us out in your little cloud, you're wrong."

"We just want to talk, My Lord."

"His Excellency would just like you to return to him."

"If you can do that, this won't need to get ugly."

"There's no need to go to such extremes, Lord Makenshi."

' Little Cloud. Little Cloud, don't ignore me. You know if you don't come home soon, then more of Wonderland will die. You can hear it too, can't you? Our beautiful song? You know they all die for you. Just for you, My Precious Little Cloud.'

The voices of his pursuers are mixing with that monster's within his mind. If they get their hands on him they'll take him back to Anarchy. They will take him to that beast and - if that monster gets his hands on him again then - then - then - Oh he can feel himself growing sick while the images of Black Wind's corpse fill his mind.

He has to hold his hands over his mouth to stop himself from making any form of noise. Back pressed against a tree trunk, he feels like his heart is beating with the ferocity of a thousand war drums. He can just kill them. He could just slaughter them all but if he does then what will that say to the people of this town and what will it say to Eversti?

Killing them all would be so easy and he can feel that beast wrapping around him from the corridors of his mind and urging him to do so. It has become such a thoughtless motion in recent years. It wouldn't cost him more than a couple of minutes to strip these men of their entrails but doing that would - doing that wouldn't be right.

He isn't supposed to kill unless he doesn't have any other choice. Lady Tiamat would be ashamed that he even considered doing so... but ...

Finally does he find enough composer in himself to pull his hands away from his face and swing around to look for the men hunting him. He can hear them for the most part. He can hear leaves crunching under thick boots and as he squints through the Mist that's when he catches sight of one of them enough to notice the state of his mask - a - he's wearing a mask.

He's wearing a damnable face mask! They came prepared for this! They came prepared to take him in at any cost.

"We'll make you a deal, My Lord. Come with us and we won't take it out on the town."

"Refuse us and the town burns to the ground. "

"The White Devil takes another town tonight or you come with us and no one gets hurt."

"But what do you care about a few hundred lives?"

"You've slaughtered thousands in the name of His Excellency, haven't you?"

"So come out here and we won't hurt you or the town."

"We know you've sided with the Black Wind."

"His Excellency is most disappointed."

"It's time to return home, Lord Makenshi."

They're right. They're right and he knows it. They're right and he knows he can't run anymore. If he just gives himself up and goes back to that beast.

If he goes back to that beast then he's going to die.

How many times?

It's better if he's the one that dies than the town -

It's better if he's the one that dies than if Eversti were the one to get -

There's a sigh of defeat and he can already hear Black Wind cursing him in his mind. He can hear the Windarian cussing rolling off his Other's lips as he allows his body to float out from the position he was hiding in, hands raised to either side of his head.

He got away once, he can do it again. He got away ....with Black Wind's help. He'll be furious but he'll come for him. He just has to believe that Black Wind will come for him again. For the sake of that village, he can't risk doing anything foolish and -

"That's right. We only want to talk, My Lord. It's time to go back to His Excellency."

A man appears behind him, grabbing his wrists and pulling them down behind his back.

"On the ground." He demands and the Misterican obeys allowing his feet to sink to the ground. He can feel his captor working to tie his wrists behind his back and it takes everything in him to resist the urge to shake the man off of him. It takes everything in not to flip the man to the ground then and there only to summon the Maken to his aid.

He doesn't need his hands to defend himself and they will learn this in the grimmest way possible if they cross him and harm the town outright. There's nothing else to do here and he just has to trust that Black Wind will come -

"You’ll have to get through me first."

A voice roars through the forest, echoing all around him like a grand dragon declaring war upon on all that stand in it's path. There are those same burning obsidian orbs glaring darts in his direction, but this time they aren't looking at him.

This time he could have sworn the Amestrian was trying to burn the man behind him to ASH.

[conspicuous-clown-car]

pushing boundaries

[terrence-silver]

hi! could you maybe write beloved aiding 80s terry through a ptsd episode? only if you want to and have the time ofc, thank you! ✨

New Year of 1986.

The first one without John.

Incidentally, the first celebratory gala cocktail event he's ever took you to; black tie affair. Terry, against all better judgment finds himself rushing out of the venue through the crowd once the jazz band hits, all eyes following the tallest man there making himself scarce, wide strides, when they start popping champagne bottles, sprinklers and fireworks, bypassing the onslaught of well-wishes eager to congratulate Mr. Silver and shake hands with him in the grand hall of the Astoria, waiters and staff practically competing who's going to serve him first --- all in a state of mutual, stifled disarray when he leaves so early. Not his usual manner, they all know. His eyesight flashes a violent red with the overloading of senses and he finds himself on the cool night air, ruminating, leaning against the parked Limousine, outside, in the darkness, where nobody could see --- his chauffeur practicing his usual discreetness. See nothing, hear nothing. It was in his contract and work policy and he has witnessed far worse than this. Is anything worse than this, though, Terry thinks? Broadcasting this much...bullshit? When the heavy, velvet blackness of the firmament high above the city skyline is enveloped in cracking lights and fireworks at midnight, he sits on the backseat, tinted windows up, waiting for the all-consuming noise to pass, tinkering with a cigar, trying for coolness. It slips out of his fingers and next to his polished shoes and the red mahogany Bourbon minibar. He picks it up and tries again. It is like his own nerves refused to obey him. That's where you find him. Terry counts down the seconds until your fast paced arrival follows in his own footsteps, not that he'd admit to it, slicking his hair back with his hand and finding that he was shaking. No, he wouldn't, or rather, he couldn’t admit to being controlled by something to that extent. Affected.

They were playing Lionel Ritchie's All Night Long inside.

Terry wishes they could fucking stop.

They'll continue this bullshit all until the morning.

He wanted to get the fuck out of LA for a day at least. Disappear.

You stand there, next to the open car door, out of breath, looking at him in that fond way he wanted to eat up, right before crawling in beside him on the leather backseat and before Terry could light his cigar after the fifth failed attempt, stubborn in making himself appear busy as you embrace him whole. You knew what was going on, because he's told you. You knew how to handle it because that too, he’s instructed you on. Say nothing, let me be a man, but don’t ever leave me. You knew about Vietnam. The episodes. The coke. The over-excess of drinking. How hard he handled Johnny not returning his calls. Ignoring him. The bullshit that was tournament fuck-up. Cobra Kai's reputation in shambles. The media fallout that followed and the subsequent cleaning job he had to take part in. It all came flooding out, somehow, around the same time, and sometimes, Terry felt like a snake yearning to choke itself on its own tail. A man isn't supposed to show weakness, it was a known fact. But, Terry supposed it was different if the person you're showing it to will never, ever leave you, one way or another, secrets forever staying put. I'd rather kill you than have you leave me, he thinks, as you hold him and he lets you. Mine. You're mine. Mine. -"Lets just drive, all night."- You suggest quietly and Terry says nothing. The sound of fireworks eerily reminiscent of gunshots sending electric jolts through his body which he tries to contain. Discipline, he tells himself. Discipline. He wishes to go back out there and force himself to face it like a man should, but he finds he cannot move. He feels like a soldier in a trench somewhere in the jungle, on stand-by, holding his breath, heart beating fast. -"Lets just drive out of here and not stop until there's silence, okay?"- You coo right before you address the chauffeur in front of the steering wheel for confirmation -"Henry?"-

-"Where would Mr. Silver like?"- He addresses a dazed Terry.

Even now, his people knew not to address you directly.

-"Anywhere."- You answer for him, if only because he couldn't.

Anywhere. Yes. Anywhere sounded like a good place to be right now.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and he feels the vehicle move.

Tomorrow, he'll call the fucking shots again, but tonight?

Tonight, by the time he separates his face from your warm embrace, the necktie of his tuxedo disheveled and opened at the buttons by your fingers, your shoes removed and placed to the side as you cuddle him, feet up on the seat, the vista of LA is far behind, at the end of a distant, colossal highway surrounded by an infinite plain, the sprinkles of flashing starlight dotting the indigo sky, and the distant booming bleeds into silence, disrupted only by the buzzing of the car engine, the moon and the rising sun meeting at the crack of morning between the clearing of the clouds. The dawn ahead is red and quiet on the freeway winding endlessly. The jungle of chaos and the all noise fades away in particles, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but you and him. The Year is 1986, January the first. Terry Silver isn't alone.

[goldenjuniper]

hold on to each other