Since we have a couple of imagines with the farmer having a panic attack, maybe we could have one where the farmer helps their spouse with their panic attacks?
Abigail: It was during the annual egg hunt that Abigail tended to shine, putting her monster hunting fantasies to practice as the imagined the eggs as little slimes.
“Go!” Called out Lewis, signaling the beginning of the hunt to the farmer, their wife, and the other children that had gathered to participate.
They each ran off in their own respective directions, playfully teasing about who would get the most eggs as they began the search.
Suddenly, Abigail froze in her tracks as she rounded the corner to the saloon, finding in front of her a wild dog, it’s head obscured by the trashcan it was digging through for scraps. Suddenly, she was trapped in ice and she couldn’t move a muscle. She could only hear her heart pounding in her chest and her breathing as it rapidly decayed into a raspy gasp.
Moments later, the farmer briskly walked down the pathway to the left of the graveyard, and they stopped in their tracks when they saw a hint of purple hair and a purple boot poking out from the side of the saloon. Curiously, they approached and stopped short when they found Abigail leaned against the side of the outer wall, clutching her vest tightly.
“Abigail?” They asked gently, tenderly placing a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and looked up at them with wide eyes and the farmer understood.
They gently scooped Abigail up in their strong arms and ducked into the saloon to be alone and hold their wife. “It’s okay,” they whispered soothingly to her until her shaking stopped. They tilted her face up to theirs and gently laid a kiss on her forehead. “You’re alright. Why don’t we leave early this year and go play Prairie King?”
“But,” Abigail sniffed, “What about winning the egg hunt? I just ruined our chances.” The farmer gave her a gentle squeeze.
“Don’t worry about it, there’s always next year. Now come on, I have a piece of Fire Quartz with your name on it.”
Alex: The farmer opened the door to the cabin they shared with Alex, they could instantly feel something was off. There was something like dread hanging in the air.
“Alex?” They called out as they searched for their husband. “Oh, Alex,” they sighed when they spotted him in the kitchen, leaning over the stove. “I just had the worst feeling that something bad had happ-” they were cut short when Alex crumbled to the floor.
“Alex?” The farmer knelt down and took their husband into their arms. He was in a cold sweat and, as he shook, grasping onto the farmer for comfort, it became apparent what was happening.
The farmer scooped him up and carried him outside, setting him down on a rocking chair that had been set on the porch of the cabin. They disappeared into the cabin again then returned with a glass of cold water, giving it to Alex and taking a few steps back to give him room.
When his breathing had stabilized, the farmer asked quietly, “Feel better?”
Alex finally opened his eyes and looked at them. “Much better. Thank you so much.”
Elliott: “Please,” Elliott sounded desperately overwhelmed, “No more questions for now.” He held his hands up defensively as he took a step back, finding his back pressed to a bookshelf. Today was a very joyous day, his book had finally been published and he was having his first panel about it. He hadn’t expected such a large, demanding crowd.
“Please step back.” The farmer commanded firmly, squeezing themselves between their husband and the crowd.
“I need to get out of here!” Elliott whispered to the farmer, gripping the back of their clothes. The farmer could feel how his fingers shook and how tight his grip was.
“Step back.” The farmer commanded again, pressing the crowd back. Elliott turned and pressed his forehead to one of the books on the shelf. He desperately needed to keep it together in front of all these people.
The farmer turned back to see their husband beginning to wilt and took him by the hand, pulling him through the little gap they had made until they were safely outside. They helped him mount their horse and they rode together, Elliott clinging to the farmer gravely, until the cabin came into sight.
The farmer gently nudged Elliott off the horse and helped him inside where they brewed some of his favorite tea and set a gently crackling fire in the fireplace. They then took one of Elliott’s favorite poetry books off the bookshelf they shared and read to him until his troubles seemed miles away.
Penny: “Try to calm down,” the farmer tried to soothe their newly wed wife.
“No, you don’t understand!” Penny was frantic, her fingers tangled in her hair as she was pacing along the rug that was laid out on the floor of the farmer’s cabin. “She can’t take care of herself without me! She’ll drink herself to death at the saloon, or she’ll give herself food poisoning trying to cook for herself–” Penny’s words were beginning to run on together and resemble gibberish more than words. She had known marrying the farmer would mean moving in with them, but she hadn’t considered it would mean leaving her mother alone.
The farmer approached Penny and took her firmly by the shoulders, looking in her eyes. “Penny. It’s okay. You need to breathe,” they reminded her, their hands trailing from her shoulders then down her arms, taking her hands in theirs. “Your mother is a grown woman.” The farmer’s tone began to be more gentle and soothing as they went on, but they never stopped using at least a bit of a firm tone. “She’s going to be okay, but you won’t if you don’t stop worrying.” They glanced down at the rug. “Or if you don’t stop trying to rub a hole in my rug.”
Penny sighed and nodded. She knew she was being irrational. “Thank you.” She smiled and kissed the farmer’s cheek, giving their hands a little squeeze.
Sam: Helping his father with therapy had taken it’s toll on Sam. The normally easygoing, laidback man had been strung out and wound way too tight for several days now. Things had gotten bad enough that he now needed his own therapy, which he had now decided to bring his love along to.
The farmer sat in a long, overly plush chair with their husband as he prattled on about how his father had almost died so many times, and how lost he and his younger brother would be without him.
“I keep imagining burying him,” Sam said, clutching his shirt over his chest. “I even dream about it sometimes.” His jaw clenched and his whole body went rigid. The trembling began in his fingers and hands then carried up his arms and to his shoulders like the cold seeps into you on a chilly winter day.
“Sam?” The farmer asked gently after the silence seemed too long for him to only be gathering his thoughts. That’s when Sam’s breathing began to escalate. At first it seemed like he felt the room was a bit stuffy, but it snowballed quickly into him clawing at the collar of his shirt as he gasped rapidly.
The farmer quickly wrapped their arms around Sam and laid his head on their shoulder, squeezing and nudging him in an effort to bring him back. A few tears began rolling down Sam’s cheeks before the shaking and heavy breathing stopped almost as abruptly as it began. He raised his head weakly and looked between the therapist and the farmer.
“I’m sorry,” he laughed halfheartedly, trying to forget that the episode had occurred, “Where was I?”
Sebastian: Sebastian had been laying in bed all day today, thinking about his career and how nobody but his adoring farmer seemed to take it seriously even in the slightest bit. He heard the door to the cabin clatter open and he felt fear spike up through his heart. He couldn’t let the farmer see their rock, their husband like this.
“Sebastian?” He heard the farmer call and he could feel his breathing began to race so he clapped his hand over his mouth, forcing the air in and out of his nose.
The farmer could hear some weird sounds coming from their bed, so they approached it and drew back the covers only to be surprised by what they found. Sebastian was curled in the fetal position between the sheets, and he jolted when the blankets were removed.
He suddenly crumbled into a gasping, shaking mess and his farmer knew what to do right away. They climbed in bed with him and pulled him into their embrace, folding the blankets bock over them and whispering to him about how much they cared for them and anything they could think of to distract him until he he regained composure.
“Come on,” the farmer stroked his hair, “let’s go catch some frogs then play videogames. Okay?”
Jenna: Well, I myself am interested in Football, or Soccer as some people call it. Kyle and I are both in one of the local Football clubs here and we have a weekly play date with rival clubs. Garth and Nate play Basketball with a few others constantly and Kate plays for the local Volleyball team. And I’m not sure about Penny, though I’ve heard that she plays Tennis. I’m not entirely convinced that its regular Tennis though. She looks more of a Table Tennis player, to be honest.
This happens because of a displacement reaction. You have a solution supersaturated with a copper
salt, and you add a metal ion that is more reactive than the copper,
which steals the cation from the copper salt, leaving a bunch of
disassociated copper ions in solution. If you drop the copper penny into
it, it provides a nucleation site for the copper ions to deposit
themselves, producing what you see in the image. (Source)
Simon:listen…my dream boy is tall with long dark hair. multi-talented. i’m talking violinist, intelligent, excellent athlete. loves cars and dresses sharp. powerful magician. a bit brooding but a romantic at heart. Grey eyes and witty humor. rocks a nice pair of jeans. maybe his name rhymes with chaz switch, i don’t know, just dreaming here.