I was playing “hide and seek” in a forest with a crowd of people, we had to hide because a lion was walking around and was going to eat whoever it saw first. I remember hiding in a bush, then running into a locker that for some unknown reason was there and seeing the lion walk by and I legit almost had a panick attack in a dream.
I never mean for it to happen. I never mean to relapse again. But there’s this feeling, this uneasy feeling. When the clean streak is too long and the cuts have healed, something inside of me panics. So I do what i’ve done for years and hurt the only body I will ever have. Will this ever get any easier? Will the desire to destroy my body ever fade away?
My family owns a weird church that my great-grandpa built and we still have mass there regularly. My mom divorced my father recently and he was kinda exiled from my mom’s side of family because of it.
Me and a few other family members (my brother, uncle and grandma) were going on a trip, when my father joined us. We were going to the dollar store. We all got into a car together. Dad hopped into the driver’s seat.
He started the car and we began to back out of the parking lot area. For some reason, I screamed at him about something and he floored it, and we fell into a pond that was in front of us. We still continued on.
As we kept going, all I saw and felt was pure anxiety and panic was really setting in now. The car started to sink and water poured in QUICKLY, and then the car was somehow instantly submerged.
I became the physical embodiment of anxiety at this point and was thinking to try and break one of the windows so I could escape. But then we were suddenly sinking deeper and it was happening so fast and I pretty much gave up while still in a fit of anxiety.
Then I woke up, scared AS HELL, and I started thinking about how weird and scary that was. Especially since all of us have cut off almost all contact with my father. Btw, I haven’t had him in any of my dreams, like literally ever, so yeah, there’s that too…..
Beneath his cavalier, sassmaster exterior, Tony’s a sensitive guy. Peter knows that. Being faced with a full-grown man in the middle of an anxiety attack, however, is a completely different story, and Peter must draw on all his own strength and maturity to offer Tony a shoulder to lean on.
They don’t always show it, but they’ve each got their own demons to battle. Peter keeps happening upon these battles. OR a bunch of times that Peter was there for the Avengers in a moment of need, and one time they were all there for him.
“Tony felt the wind knocked out of him as his arms were suddenly full of Peter Parker. Although his first instinct was to shove Peter off of him because they weren’t there, he managed to suppress that urge as he realized just how tightly Peter was clinging to him—and damn did that kid have a strong grip.”
“Geez, Mr Stark, why on earth are you still working with a fever like that?” Now the kid is angry, finally. Tony opens his eyes and tries to give him a reassuring look, mumbling “Calm down, kiddo, it´s only a cold”, but it comes out all raspy and broken. — Tony gets beaten down by fever and anxiety, and Peter is trying to be there for him despite Tony´s best attempts at keeping him away.
“Tony, come out of there.” Peppers voice was strained and Tony turned away from it, trying to ignore the tremor so clear in her voice. She was on the other side of the door, hands pressing to the metal that kept her away. She couldn’t get into his lab, he’d made sure of it. No one could get in and he wasn’t coming out. Until Peter comes to save him. (Set in an AU where Tony changed the timeline of infinity war to save everyone but he’s the only one to remember when they lost)
This scene so perfectly captures my love for the show. Anxiety being treated as a real issue, rather than just being passed off as a joke, and a beautiful example of how to help a friend in need. If anything shows how much Andi Mack deserves another season, it’s this scene and this whole episode.
I don’t want to do this anymore the fake smiles fake laughs. While everyone thinks I’m happy I’m slowly fading away. The pain is becoming to much and the things I do to stop these awful thoughts don’t work anymore. I stay up late thinking about how life would be different if I was different, how maybe I could’ve been happy. But happiness doesn’t exist, there’s only content and even that is for a short time. Maybe I’ll find peace someday who knows…..
It’s not that he can’t sleep it’s just that when he does, he’s surrounded by the cold black vacuum of space, watching as an invading alien force creeps closer.
So yea, it’s not that he can’t it’s that he can’t stand what he sees when he does.
So maybe he’s not sleeping enough, and drinking too much so he blacks out instead of dreaming, but, it’s not like he doesn’t have a viable excuse.
When he shows up for a board meeting half in the bottle and falls asleep, Pepper steps in. Her eyes are full of regret and pity and he hates it. He hates how he’s letting her down, again.
Hates how she looks at him now, like he’s broken.
But, maybe he is.
He’s been beaten and bruised and almost died too many times to count and it’s not like a person can walk away from that whole.
So maybe he’s broken.
But then, everybody is a little broken.
Pepper gives him a slip of paper with an address and a time. “Go. Just, for me?”
He can’t refuse her, not when she’s got tears sparkling in those bright eyes of hers, the ones that used to smile at him from across a room and make his heart beat faster.
Now his heart only beats faster when he’s panicking, suffering through an anxiety attack, wishing desperately that he was dead so he didn’t have to fuckin shatter every single time, unable to piece himself back together again because there’s too many pieces gone.
Like a jigsaw puzzle of the sky, he’s just a muted blueish grey, indistinct and undefinable.
So he takes the slip of paper and looks up the address. It’s a yoga studio.
Snorting, he tosses the paper in the trash and grabs a bottle of whiskey, heads for the lab.
He doesn’t need to meditate on his issues. He needs to forget them.
When he wakes up in a pool of his own vomit in the lab two days later, he thinks that maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to check out the yoga class. He showers, pops some Advil, drinks about a gallon of water and does some research. He learns the basic moves and buys some yoga pants and a mat and marks on his calendar the next class.
He decided to go to the early morning session—Greet the sun! it declares—and when Jarvis wakes him at 4:45am, he really, really doesn’t want to go.
But he made a promise, so he gets up, dresses, and drives over to the small studio in Queens. He can’t believe he’s going so far out of his way—he could hire a literal yogi from India to come and train him, but Pepper had insisted this was better.
He keeps his head down and sets up his mat in the back of the room, tucked into the corner where hopefully no one will notice that Tony Stark is taking a yoga class.
People filter in, chatting and laughing and he stares determinedly down at his phone, scrolling through the emails that are already starting to pile up.
“Alright guys, phones away please, let’s get started.”
The voice is firm and warm, and when he glances up he’s stunned to see a lithe, pretty boy teaching the class. He can’t be more than 19, and Tony instantly feels guilty for the way his gaze flicks over the leanly muscular boy, darting away when the kid meets his gaze with a faint smirk.
“Ok, let’s go ahead and stand tall, feet together. I want everyone to breathe deep to a count of four and exhale to a count of four.”
A mix of rainfall and jungle noises slowly filters through the room as the lights dim into a warm, orange glow.
“Good, good. Now I want you to reach up and greet the sun, thank the universe for giving you a new day.”
Tony snorts softly and does as he’s bid, but the sound must be loud enough to catch the instructor’s attention because that warm honey gaze is on him for a split second, considering and steady, and then gone.
“Very good. Now let’s bring those arms out like wings and fold down, half lift back up, there we go, and now bend again as deep as you can without hurting yourself and hold.”
Tony grimaces as his hamstrings burn and then warm, stretching slowly. It’s entirely different than boxing, too slow he thinks, but it feels good so far so he keeps going.
“Good. Now I want you to walk those hands out and spread your feet to hip width. You’re in down dog, and I want you to hold it for four breaths in and out to a count of four.”
Tony peers out the side of his eye as he breathes, watches as everyone else smiles, looking blissful and relaxed. He certainly doesn’t feel blissful, maybe a little relaxed, but he’s still not sure this is going to help in the long run.
“Good now let’s walk those hands back and roll up, head up last.”
The kid beams at everyone and nods, “Okay, let’s work!” he declares and proceeds to guide the room through an increasingly difficult series of poses.
When he glances as the clock, sweat dripping down his face he’s stunned to see they’re barely halfway through the class. He’s holding a difficult pose, a three point downward dog style, with his left leg straight in the air and it burns, and he wants to stop, but the kid hasn’t said they can move yet.
“Hey there, how you doing?”
The voice is soft and kind and he checks his periphery to find the lean legs of the instructor next to him.
“Fine,” he grunts out, arms trembling and hip aching.
“You can bring the leg down and take a breather if you need to. This isn’t about pushing, it’s about finding the sweet spot where you’re comfortably uncomfortable and holding it just shy of too long.”
He snorts at that, “Trust me kid, I’m uh, comfortably uncomfortable,” he gasps out with a wry laugh.
There’s a moment of silence and then a hand lands on his thigh and applies pressure, “Go ahead and bring that leg down,” he says, and Tony realizes it’s to the whole room.
The hand stays there as he lowers his leg, hot and heavy and a new kind of heat blooms in the cradle of his hips.
“Switch legs please.”
And then he’s gone, making a circuit around the room to talk to students, laughing and showing concern where it’s needed, and Tony can’t help but track him, wishing distantly that he’d come back and touch him again.
“Good, transition into low lunge please, left leg back. Now lift those arms and rise up about two inches, then back down.”
His thighs burn and ache and he’s dripping sweat but he’s doing it, he’s in some kind of zone, his breathing loud and steady in his ears as he flows.
They flow from a low lunge into warrior three, balancing before coming back down into the lunge and turning into warrior two, hands pressing out—“Push away all the anxiety and worries, breathe out the bad and imagine the good as you inhale.”
It’s kitschy and dumb and he’d make fun of it if he couldn’t so clearly picture all his anxieties and fears being pushed away. It’s refreshing and soothing and he finds himself sinking deeper into the soft sensation that seems to be wrapped around him.
They repeat the poses on the right side and before he knows it they’re going through down dog and then into child’s pose to just breathe. The background sounds playing shut off and it’s just silence in the room. The lights fade off and he closes his eyes, muscles shaking and body soaked in sweat.
“I want you all to just breathe, to listen to your heart beat and your lungs inhale and exhale. Let the silence wrap around you and just be a part of the world around you.”
He feels stretched, weak and shivery, his heart beating faster than normal as he breathes, letting his mind drift.
“Please be conscious of your fellow classmates as you leave, and have a blessed day.”
He hears people shuffling and rising, whispering as they leave and he drifts, the white noise of the room and the darkness tugging at his mind, stars dancing behind his eyes.
A looming presence fills his minds eye, a titan on a throne, ships flanking it, spreading out further than his mind can comprehend. His breathing grows shallow and rapid as his heart lurches and thunders.
The silence is overwhelming, crushing him in on all sides and oh god, he’s going to die here in this void…
“Hey there, how are you doing?”
A hand lands on his shoulder and he gasps, too loud, his whole body flinching under the touch. It quickly retreats and he’s shaking, gasping and fighting tears, and oh god, his left arm is numb, it’s not supposed to be like this.
Stop stop stop he begs his body, please stop
He doesn’t realize he’s said it out loud until there’s a presence beside him, warm and reassuring, whispering—“Ok, I’ve stopped, I’m not touching you. Can you please do something for me? I want you to breathe in to a count of four and hold it for two and then back out for four, okay? Here I’ll do it with you.”
He can do that
He inhales slowly, chest shuddering the whole time as tears slide down his cheeks.
“Good Tony, that’s so good. Now I want you to breathe in to a count of six and hold for three and then back out. I’ll do it with you.”
His chest stops shuddering
“So good Tony, you’re doing amazing sweetie.”
He shivers at the soft name, and sniffles, exhaling unsteadily before breathing in slowly.
It takes him three tries to get the words out and there’s a moment of silence before the kid speaks.
“Of course. May I touch you?”
He nods and a moment later a hand is on his shoulder, firm but gentle. “I want you to take a deep breath and then push your legs back and rise into down dog, okay? When you’re ready,” he murmurs, kind and firm and it’s exactly what Tony needs.
He takes a few breaths and then pushes back, head dropping between his arms and eyes falling open slowly. The hand at his shoulder hasn’t left, and this time it rubs gently over his shoulder blades, comforting and warm.
“Very good. Now walk your hands back and roll up, slowly,” he orders, voice low and commanding, but still friendly and warm. Tony keeps his eyes open, breathing slowly as he rises up, and when he’s upright fully, the instructor moves to stand in front of him. His eyes are warm with concern and Tony ducks his chin, ashamed of his reaction and the panick attack that’s left him weak and shaky.
“Hey, Tony?” A hand lands on his shoulder and he looks up, surprised at how close the kid is. He’s even prettier up close. “You don’t have to be ashamed. I get them too.” At his stunned look the kid nods and then gestures to the floor, “Sit and drink some water, I’ll be right back.”
Tony sort of slumps down and takes a long drag from his water bottle, leans back against the cool concrete wall, the chill of it soothing to his overheated skin. The kid comes back with his own bottle of water, a yoga mat and a chocolate bar. He sinks down beside Tony and situates himself before breaking a piece off the candy bar and hands it to Tony with a grin, “Eat.”
Tony obeys, a little stunned by how commanding such a young sweet looking kid is. The chocolate melts on his tongue, sweet and warm and the shakes in his hands slow as he sucks on it till it’s gone.
“I’m Peter, by the way,” the kid says with a sideways grin, “Peter Parker.”
Tony smiles faintly and shakes the kid’s hand, “Tony Stark,” he murmurs, both of them laughing a little at the inanity of the most famous man in the world introducing himself.
They’re silent a moment before he ventures, “You said you get them too?” Peter nods and breaks off more chocolate for each of them.
“My parents died in a car accident when I was a baby so my aunt and uncle raised me. Ben and I were out together the day the Chitauri attacked, just getting back from a baseball game, and, uh,” he takes a shaky breath and shakes his head, “Part of a building collapsed on us. I held his hand while he bled out and then laid there, waiting to die.”
Peter stares at the ground and Tony can see it all too easily, the dust and grime and blood of that day streaked across that pretty face. “You and Captain America dug me out and then I saw you go up into the portal and…” he sighs heavily, “I woke up three days later in the hospital and haven’t been able to sleep without a light on in a year.”
Tony tells him slowly, stumblingly of what it was like in that black hole, of how he can’t sleep, how all he sees is death, coming for them all, and when the tears come again, Peter pulls his head onto his shoulder and holds him close, whispering soft soothing things.
So he comes back
Peter holds him against his chest, lips teasing at his ear as he rolls his hips gently up into Tony’s. He’s in lotus pose on Peter’s lap, the kid’s cock deep inside him, rolling into him slowly, stretching and pushing him gently into each cresting wave of pleasure.
It takes forever to cum like this, but Tony adores it when it does happen because it’s soft and warm and it feels like coming home. Peter holds him through it, whispering soft lovely things in his ear, breath hot on his sweaty skin.
“Good job sweetie, you’re so good for me Tony. Look how pretty you are, god baby I love you.”
Peter doesn’t care that he cries after, just holds him a little tighter, grounding him in his arms. “You’re safe, I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you.”
And he is, safe, because even if that void opens inside him, yawning and horrifying, Peter is right there to pull him out, hold him close and love him back to life.
It was a small mistake. Tiny. Understandable. Fixable. It had to be. That’s what Damian told himself, because otherwise—
His was supposed to plant a tracker, but he had bungled the throw, and the perp got away, and now the plan was a ruined— it was ruined, and it was Damian’s fault. He messed up.
It was only a small mistake…
Damian’s hands went numb. His face flashed hot while his body turned cold. He resisted the urge to fidget with the hem of his tunic.
It was okay. Nobody saw. Nobody knew. He could fix it before they did. There would be traffic cameras to follow, or security footage, or the police would find the fleeing man, but any way, it would be alright. Damian would find his mark. He could do it.
He had to do it. He had to, he had to, he had to find him, before anyone knew that things had gone sideways at all.
It wasn’t like they could do better. He had only missed by a half inch. Damian was good at his job, he was, and anyone who thought different was wrong.
Just as good. Damian was just as good as he thought he was.
Damian gave himself ten seconds to panic: his heartbeat pounded in his ears and his breath stuck in his chest until it burned. The back of his head throbbed with the expectation of impact. He needed to run, before he had to fight. He needed to hide somewhere far away…
There. Enough. Damian had trained for this.
His fingers tapped out a rhythm on the railing in front of him. He cleared the emotion from his face and ran through the motions.
Step one: you made a mistake.
Damian’s mind shied away from the admission because Damian didn’t make mistakes; he was a trained assassin and a bat: the best in Gotham.
But he had. He made a mistake. That was the reality of this situation.
A little blurby/drabble thing because I have had this on my laptop for a while and never thought it was good enough to post but apparently I have no impulse control so here we are. Lemme know if you like it?
Pairing: Bucky x medic!reader
Warnings: Blood, lots of mentions of blood. Angst. What could be classified as a panic attack. BUT THERE’S FLUFF TOO I PROMISE eek
“You shouldn’t be out of bed.” Those are the first words you say to him. It’s all you can think of when he strolls through the glass doors and onto the balcony as if this hasn’t been a horrible day.
“I’m fine. I heal quick,” he mumbles, but you don’t miss the wince of pain, or the hand pressed to his ribs. “You shouldn’t be smoking.”
You let a stream of smoke escape your lips, letting the cigarette hang precariously between your fingers. “Needed a break.”
“Busy night?” he attempted to joke.
“You think?” you chuckled passively, letting your heavy head rest on the wall behind you. Your eyes squeezed shut, your body subconsciously longing for sleep. “There are countless agents in there. I’m used to fixing up a few people. This? This was…” it could’ve been a massacre.
You didn’t want to say those words out loud. You weren’t sure if you could without collapsing into a mess of tears and dirty scrubs. So you just stopped speaking. You felt him reach forward, plucking the smoke from your hand and taking a drag.
“A lot”, he continued for you, “today was a lot.”
That wasn’t the worst part. You both knew it wasn’t the mass of the agents that was affecting you so much.
It was Steve – unconscious and bleeding.
Nat – soaked in her own blood and struggling through every breath.
Sam – just minutes away from losing a leg, conscious but clearly in pain.
Bucky – broken and bruised and not opening his goddamn eyes.
All of them, relying on your shaking hands.
“Yeah,” you finally agreed, your fingers twitching with the desire to take the cigarette back.
You didn’t want to feel like this – your vulnerability bubbling at the surface, brimming behind your eyelids, pulsing in your head. You could still smell the coppery scent of blood, flooding your senses and sparking the ache in your temples. You could still hear the chaotic ER, the beeping heart monitors the familiar noises of oncoming fatalities.
Bucky fell against the wall beside you, a quiet thump echoed across the balcony. You could tell he didn’t have full control of his sore body – his jarred movements juxtaposed the careful nature you were so used to. A few hours ago you couldn’t wake him up, and now he has the audacity to claim good health?
You force your eyes open with the intention to push him away, tell him to rest, but you catch sight of your own hands first. Red and brown stain the lines on your palms, hide in the edges of your nails and peak out from underneath them, caked in the places that you can’t clean.
A shaky breath escapes your lips.
You get lost in it – tracing the lines with your eyes, flickering to where the stains are deeper, darker, more bloody. They blur and you don’t know if it’s because you’re about to cry or because you feel like you can’t breathe. You can’t tear your eyes away, and suddenly it’s all you can see, it’s all just red.
You squeeze your eyes shut.
The muscles in your fingers seem to pulse – overworked by the hours you had spent in there. You rub them together harshly, scratching violently at the dark lines because at least then it will be your blood soaking the skin, not theirs. You couldn’t have your friends’ blood on your hands.
You felt your body tense when something moved in your peripheral vision. You had forgotten Bucky was right beside you, watching your every move. His hands were on yours in seconds, pulling them away from each other, the cigarette long-forgotten and crushed on the pavement.
Your mind flashed back – cold hands, fresh, sticky blood, Bucky’s closed eyes and they justwon’t open.
Your eyes open when you feel the warm pressure around your fingers and suddenly you’re staring into Bucky’s eyes. Alive. The blue of his irises is shimmering with vitality, specks of grey and silver swimming in the ocean of blue and his expression is full of worry and concern and confusion but you don’t care because he’s here. He’s alive.
His lips are moving – probably asking you if you’re okay, but you’re too preoccupied with his warm hands on yours and his eyes – you hadn’t even realised how much you had missed them, the feeling of getting lost in them, like you tend to do so often.
“Hey, are you okay? How long has it been since you slept?”
“I love you.” The words slipped through your lips, not giving you a chance to hold them back. Once they were out, you wondered why you had waited so long. “I love you so much and seeing you in there– seeing you unconscious and not waking up I thought… I thought maybe…”
“Hey, I’m right here,” one hand. Stayed, squeezing your fingers gently whilst the other came up to rest own your jaw, “I’m right here, and I’m alive.”
You leaned forward letting your head hit his chest.
“I’m not gonna lie, I probably need some sleep,” you mumbled, feeling his finger move to the back of your head and gently run at your scalp. “And for you to never be that close to death again, okay?”
“Near-death experiences seem to have a way of catching up to me, but I’ll try my best.”
You stood like that for a while, just letting the moon drift through sky above you, letting your breath even out and listening to his heartbeat. His hands never left your skin, stroking your arms or rubbing your shoulders or playing with your hair. At some point you yawned into his shoulder and he intertwined your fingers with his and pulled you towards the door.
“Let’s go to bed.”
You nodded sleepily, the exhaustion finally catching up with you as he dragged you back inside.
“I love you too, y’know?” The words were loud in the quiet halls but and you felt a smile tugging at your lips. You’d go through it all, everything, all over agin, if it meant you could hear those words again. If it meant you could see that look on his face again. You didn’t need to though, because he leant forward, pressed a kiss to your head and mumbled int you hair, “I love you so damn much.”
runaway but quietly don’t let anyone hear your feet hit pavement if they notice, then it’ll hurt. it’ll come to the surface that anxiety, those tears, the shaking that you are trying to hide, hide, hide- it isn’t permanent. this runaway temporary. just be alone for a moment with yourself and your heartbeat and your breathing in. hold. out. repeat.
any prompts for panic attacks in public? i'm feeling a little evil
People staring making it worse. Their caretaker tries to help them but they push the caretaker away. Maybe they pushed a little too hard and now strangers try and get involved, maybe even call the police. Hyperventilation causing them to faint.
Yesterday I had the second worst panic attack of my life. I wound up in the ER, wearing nothing but a hospital gown, kneeling on the ER floor dry heaving and holding onto the bed rail. I can’t imagine how much worse it would have been without my mom there to talk to the nurses and doctors for me, because I couldn’t talk. I kept banging my head against the floor or banging my fist against my forehead just to feel something other than the agony. That level of physiological effects of my anxiety hasn’t happened in a long, long time, and I’m glad I didn’t self injure to cope, but it was honestly close to that. I offered it all up for the souls in purgatory and everyone (including you all) who suffer from mental illness.
I would have asked for prayers during the event, but I wasn’t able to function. Please pray for an elderly lady who was in the bed next to me, who was alone with dementia and in pain.
Logan/Virgil + Abandonment (Maybe Patton takes a bit longer coming home from a quick grocery run or something and Virgil thinks he abandoned him or something happened?)
(This isn’t exactly Logan and Virgil but uuhhh here you are)
Virgil had been pacing for the last twenty minutes and though he could hear Logan’s attempt to calm him, it wasn’t working. His words were rational, sure, but it didn’t stop his heart from practically beating out of his chest. It didn’t stop his breathing from being out of his control. Logan kept asking between his rational explanations if he needed anything.
And all he could breath out was Patton. He wanted Patton. He didn’t know where Patton was. Surely it didn’t take this long to come back from this ‘dog park’, right? And he even took Zoe with him so he couldn’t cuddle up with her like he likes doing when he’s like this.
Something bad is happening. Or already happened. He could feel it. He couldn’t explain how he just did. There was something in the air, a certain vibration that something horrible was going to happen and neither what he or somebody else do they couldn’t do anything to stop it.
Feathers beating against his back and his shirt. His hands shook uncontrollably. His entire body was shaking with his wing. The black tail of his was curled up tight around his stomach and wrist as if he was trying to bring comfort to himself.
All he wanted was to breathe and Patton.
Distantly he heard Logan’s voice grow louder, and his own throat hurting. Was he yelling? Was he even talking? He couldn’t hear himself. The only thing going through his mind was Patton.
What if Patton abandoned them? What if Patton got in some accident and he’s gone?
Oh god, what if Patton never does come back? What if he got tired of him and truly never did come back? It’ll only be a matter of time before Logan gets sick of him too, he can assure it. He’ll end up alone again in a world he can still barely comprehend. He’ll end up in another alleyway alone and on the run.
It’s only a matter of time now.
Distantly he could hear words like “He’ll be back, Virgil,” or “Your talking, so you can obviously still breathe,” which only sent the panic in his chest to worsen. Yeah, he can still talk. But it definitely didn’t feel like he was breathing. How can he be so sure he’ll come back? How can-
“Kiddo…? Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He could hear that voice again through his haze and he took a wobbly breath in while turning towards the door.
Patton was there, no blood was on him, he didn’t look injured. No… No, he just looked confused and concerned as he set down his keys and closed the door. Zoe immediately started coming towards him, knowing something was wrong.
Gasping he rushed towards the man. He wasn’t in control of his body when his arms surged around the other one in a blind panic. His breathing coming in harsh gasps as his hands gripped on to the other one tightly. He knew his grip must be tight and with his claws, it might be digging into his skin, but that was at the back of his mind at the moment.
The only thing that was going through his mind was the fact that Patton was okay. Zoe was okay. They weren’t hurt. They didn’t die. Everyone was okay.
“Whoa. Whoa, sweetie. Yes, yes I’m alright. I’m okay. Zoe’s okay too here, see? We’re alright. Nothing bad happened. I just got caught up talking to somebody at the park that’s it, alright? Sh… Sh… Breathe in like how Logan taught you. There you go. Breathe out. Would you like to hold onto Zoe, too sweetie?”
Crap, he said all of that?
A shaky nod. Yeah, that does sounds good.
“Alright. Let’s move to the couch, sweetheart. Keep breathing for me alright? That’s it there you go. You’re doing wonderful.”
It didn’t feel like they were moving at all. Were his legs moving? He wasn’t sure. But the next thing he knew he was curled up in Patton’s lap. Zoe’s head on his own lap and she was licking his face and his arms. He felt a hand going through his hair being mindful of the horns and he took another shaky breath out. The scents of both Zoe and Patton engulfed him and finally, did he start to calm down. They truly were alright. They didn’t abandon him.
Peter:*sobbing*Mr.Stark I tried. I tried so hard…but I. I couldn’t do it.
Tony: It okay kiddo. Your not going to be perfect everytime, besides a little stage fright can get the best of everyone.
Peter:But it was for your the charity auction! I was supposed to be ready!I ruined it. It’s like I can’t even do the simplest thing. I can’t help you, I can’t even stop myself from freaking out. For fucks sake I can barely help anyone!
Tony:Kid look at me. It’s okay. It’s okay to mess up every once in a while. It’s the price of being human. God knows I’ve fucked up plenty in my life, it’s alright. You bacame a hero to save people remember, it’s okay if you only save one person and it’s okay if that person is you. Peter your doing great as far as I’m concerned. I need you to believe that too.
Deacon’s entire body was shaking as he typed, his breathing irregular. Thoughts racing a mile a minute, vision blurring. His chest ached, his head was pounding. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe properly. He was panting, suddenly extra aware of his environment. Nothing was right, everything was wrong. His clothes were too tight, it was too cold, it was too bright. Tears ran down his face, and he was unable to stop them. Everything started reminding him of the past, and it was soon all he could think about. One memory would overlap the next, causing a spiral of panic and terror every time. It wasn’t a memory anymore, he was LIVING it. He could feel every touch, smell every scent, see everything he saw in those terrifying moments of his past. He couldn’t handle it, it was too overwhelming, too much, just make it sto-
“Deceit, if you are capable, count to ten for me.” A firm, yet calming voice spoke. His head shot up, greeted by a black polo shirt and a dark blue tie.
“Lo….Logan…??” He choked out, glancing around the room frantically. How did he get here?! How long had he been standing there?? Why was he here, right now??
“Greetings. Inhale deeply via your mouth, then exhale slowly through your nose, letting your mind focus on the action. This is meant to allow your brain to ground itself, realize it’s not in any danger, and in turn, release chemicals to calm your nerves,” Logan explained in a calming tone. Deacon was surprised that he didn’t make a move to touch him, as most sides did without permission when he was upset. It usually made things worse, but Logan seemed to know it was best to wait before asking to do so.
He was already panting so hard, but he focused. He tried to, anyway. He fought against his own body, trying to get a simple breath in, but every time he tried, he’d choke and cough. Again and again he tried, starting to get frustrated with himself for not be able to do it. It was simple, it was a simple task, just do it…..but he couldn’t. The tears increased, and only ended up crying more when this made it even more difficult to breathe in.
“It’s okay that you couldn’t, Deacon. It just isn’t going to work for you, and that’s fine. Can you try to tell me your trait?” Logan said calmly, sitting next to Deacon. He made an effort to make no contact with the other aspect. He knew exactly what that would end up doing.
It took Deacon thirty seconds to process the question, his mind overworking itself to try and comprehend what all was happening. He knew this, it was an easy question. The challenge was actually trying to form something coherent, and focusing on what the question was. Even though it was such an obvious answer, he kept loosing the question in the sea of memories that flashed through his mind. He would get distracted by the waves of panic flowing through his body, but having something to focus on gave him something to hold onto. That was enough to get an answer from him. “De….D-Decep…..Deception…” He stuttered out, wiping the tears from his face.
Logan gave a small, warm smile, “Well done, Deacon. Try to name five colors, now. I know you can, take your time.”
Another easy question. He processed this one much quicker than the first, biting his lip to try to focus more. Green was the first answer, then a few seconds later, red. Then black, and blue, and lastly, pink. Oh my god, he’d actually managed to do that?? He met Logan’s eyes, which were satisfied and….proud?
“Excellent, Deacon,” Logan praised, “You’re doing great. Now, try and identify three animals.” His voice wasn’t demanding or strict. It was soft and silky. It didn’t sound like an order….more like a request. It made Deacon confused, but he liked it. It made him feel more comfortable.
“S-Snakes….d…dog…” Dee started, but lost his place there. He tried to get back on track, but the memories begged for him to listen. The voices beckoned him to give in and let the darkness consume his body. He felt a small, ever gentle nudge on his shoulder.
“Just one more animal. You’re doing well, Deacon. You have intense strength, you are capable of this. An animal, small or large, whatever animal you think of. It doesn’t matter in this case, Deacon. Let your mind focus on that, and nothing else.” Logan soothed, giving the other a reassuring nod.
“…C-Cat…?” Deceit breathed out quietly, “A cat…” He felt a small sense of relief come with being able to respond correctly, and that was enough to help him stop shaking. He hadn’t noticed how his breathing had started to even out, and the memories had begun to recede. His phone had slipped out of his hand at this point, resting on the floor silently. He wondered when he had dropped it.
“I am very proud of you. I am aware what I’m asking may be difficult to respond to, but I know you’ve been trying your best, and that’s all that’s necessary for me. Lastly, can you state the first song that comes to mind?” Logan asked, finally able to hold Deacon’s gaze. He noticed a cut through the scales on the other’s face and made a mental note to clean it later.
Deacon nodded softly. He actually liked this question, since music had become a big part of his life. He knew a lot of songs and bands, including some musicals. However, the first thing that popped into his mind was, “Demons, by Imagine Dragons….”
“ I’ve heard that musical band is quite popular. I have inquired about some of their songs, and though I’m not familiar with all of them, I am very aware of the emotional value your listed song holds. Interesting choice, I’ll say.” Logan said, “Now that you’re in a calmer state, I must ask if you mind physical contact.”.
Deacon went silent for a second, debating on what he should answer with. He honestly didn’t know. All the other times he’d been touched in a state like this, he’d freaked out and it made it worse. But none of them had asked permission. They did it suddenly, and he wasn’t expecting it. Besides, he was comfortable. He trusted Logan. He wanted someone to hug him, and he always had, no matter how much he acted like he hated all forms of contact. So, he said, “No….I don’t mind.” His breathing had gone back to normal, but tears still slowly made their way dow his face, dripping off and onto the fabric of his outfit.
With that, Logan moved his hand, placing it carefully over Deacon’s hand that was no longer covered by a yellow glove. He drew circles on the back of the other’s hand, pressing on the pressure points around the area to help further calm him, “This should be beneficial.”
Deacon smiled softly, “Logan…..thank you.”
“My pleasure, Deacon….” Logan responded, giving the other a real, gentle smile.
you ask why i choose to immortalize my panic in poetry, these moments of frozen blue and grey, these moments on the floor in a house that is not mine, on my side, blurry eyed, and breathing, barely breathing and everything is so loud, so piercingly loud but my breath is louder. like my lungs cannot hold all this sad anymore, and my friends
are all watching as i convulse on the tile. i tell you i write so it hurts less, so you, too, can help me hold all this blue, all this tropical storm in your hands so it doesn’t have to live in my chest any longer. if my panic is penned into poetry i can make it tangible, touchable, real. i can be real again and call this racing heart art, call it muse. wouldn’t you do the same? wouldn’t you?
Can we please have Safety Delayed? Obi has a panic attack and Qui calms him down?
The hands had come
down on his shoulders so suddenly from behind, pinning him into
place, smacking into scar tissue on his left one and covering both
his shoulders while gripping tightly.
That was enough.
It didn’t matter
he was in the salle, it didn’t matter that master Micah was a
friend of master Qui-Gon, that the move was meant kindly to
re-position him for the next kata master Micah was showing the class
and it didn’t matter that everyone would see him.
instantly folded on him, dropping him to his knees where he curled
over them and his arms went over his head, the tissue of his lower
back a distant pain for him as his body prepared for what his mind
A distant roar was
in his ears and Obi-Wan’s breath was coming out in shaky but slow
The roar was still
in his ear but outside of his back pain from the scar…
voice, gentle hands touching his upper back with only the fingertips
rubbing lightly. “Obi-Wan its alright. You need to breath properly
now, your is too slow.” The man rumbled out.
Taking a hitching
breath, Obi-Wan trembled but listened to the deep voice, reminding
himself how many chances the other had to hurt him and had yet to.
“That’s it, try
again Obi-Wan, another breath padawan,” Qui-Gon continued speaking
and Obi-Wan managed another hitching breath against his leggings,
trembling heavily. “Can I place my hands on your shoulders
Obi-Wan sat stock still.
“Its alright if I
can’t Obi-Wan. You’re still healing.” Qui-Gon continued,
keeping only his fingertips on Obi-Wan to rub gently and Obi-Wan
suddenly realized that the other was using his Force subtly to sooth
Helping Obi-Wan and
not hurting. Not angry or upset or groping or…
He let out a sharp
sob, full of desperation and uncertainty before he uncurled, throwing
himself forward into Qui-Gon, throwing his arms around the older mans
shoulders to cling to the man as tightly as he could while hiding in
his shoulder, giving a sobbing cry.
Arms wrapped around
him, cupping him to the warm and hard body as Qui-Gon held him and
suddenly Obi-Wan wasn’t sixteen but twelve and in need of one of
the crechemaster’s hugs after a bad dream. He was eight and had
been pushed by Bruck down in the creche. He was three and had his
first vision of blood and fire in the sky.
Rocking the boy who
had gone totally lax in his arms, Qui-Gon breathed out heavily and
looked up at Micah to see the others sorry look, giving him a weak
smile in return as he slowly stood with Obi-Wan in his arms.
He ignored anyone
who was staring, anyone who couldn’t keep their karking eyes to
themselves and instead just held the now calmly breathing boy that
was still sobbing quietly as Qui-Gon made his way for the doors to
get Obi-Wan back to their quarters.
Get him home again
to where the boy felt safe.
Obi-Wan, I have you, I promise I have you.” He murmured quietly
into the others ear, feeling a light shiver and the tightening of the
redhead’s arms around him.
He ignored those he
saw in the halls, ignored the ones staring, ignored them all because
Obi-Wan needed him and he was damned if he was going to let Obi-Wan
experience any more pain than he had to.
He was going to be
a hell of a better master than Olliander Shkma had ever attempted to
not that i would ever want to think about jonah experiencing another panic attack…but just imagine jonah going through his next panic attack and thinking this will end. cyrus told me to focus on my breathing and to not speak. this will end.
Okay but?? I love??? When a character has a nightmare and they just,,, don’t talk about it?
Say character A has a nightmare. They get up, move to the living room, and just sit down on the couch. Character B gets up because they need water, or to pee, or because the bed was cold and they want to find character A (aww). They find A sitting on the couch, completely unresponsive to their attempts to speak to A. B sits with A for hours, until A finally leans on them, exhausted. B helps A up, guides them back to bed, and lays down to go back to sleep. They can talk about it tomorrow, it’s time to rest now.
Hello! 4'10 anon again. Can I request the RFA + V and Saeran comforting MC during a panic attack?
I have anixety & panic attacks, so I know firsthand what its like to go through them. Remember that the feeling will pass and you aren’t going to die in the midst of your episode.
There are people out there for you that care for you. I’m sorry this took a few days but I really had to think about it and how to handle it.
WARNING: Panic Attacks!
° It was something simple, or so he thought. You got overwhelmed with your homework. He thought you were just frustrated and that’s why you closed yourself off in the bedroom. Needless to say, he was very startled to find you hyperventilating and murmuring to yourself such awful things he couldn’t believe. He’s never had this experience so he isn’t sure what’s wrong at first. None of his helping with Rika did him any good for trying to help you.
° He does a few things wrong. He isn’t perfect, but he tries so very hard for you. The grips of feeling like you’re dying and this is the end, that’s all you can think about, its all you’re able to see.
° He tries to help you recontrol your breathing, gently coaxing you down as best as he can when you tell him that “It’s just… I got overwhelmed.”
° It’s not just some homework that riled you up and he knows it.
° He starts to research more about this and what he can do to help you when this happens. He knows it can’t just go away. So… gentle reassurance and murmurs, keeping you close, making sure you’re in a safe place and that when the attack is over that you feel like you’re not alone.
° Video games and movies? Whatever you want when you feel bad. He’s going to try to help you.
° “I hope I can make this easier for you to deal with… I hate to see you suffering.”
° You’ve been working so hard on trying to make this café such a great place for the both of you and your customers but Jaehee knows that you’re tired. She knows that you’re struggling with something, just by the way your voice drops and how you cut interactions with people as like hotcakes.
° She… isn’t surprised when she finds you huddled over in the storage room, clutching your knees together tightly and trying to breathe yourself through your attack.
° She’s careful not to do the wrong thing. She sits down besides you and carefully walks you through your breathing steps, just to ease some of the burning in your throat. It takes a few minutes to get you back to regular breathing, and it takes a little longer to piece your painful thoughts back together.
° her touch is gentle and reassuring ti you. She always makes sure to ask before she touches your hand, in case touch makes your panic even worse then before.
° She’ll sit you down for cake and tea once you’ve collected yourself. You’ll both talk through what’s bothering you so badly, and what can you do together to work on making your panic attacks easier to work through. Because you can’t just hide yourself to make others not worry.
° Jaehee doesn’t want you to feel like you’re alone in all of this. She wants you to know that she’s always there for you.
° “You were there for me. I’ll be there for you.”
° It’s hard to be in the public eye. People are always looking at you and they’re always judging you. It’s nothing for Zen. He’s used to living like this and he is mostly unbothered some of the nonsense that people spread about him. It’s different for you. You can’t help but to see people saying things about yourself. You can’t believe what people think, and you should know better then to listen to what other people think of you… but it’s not as easy for you as it is for Zen.
° People say such awful things. You can’t help but get overwhelmed by all of these things. People don’t like you for being close to their idol, and you can’t believe the ugly words. It’s too much for you to deal with.
° You lock yourself in the bathroom and try to calm down. It doesn’t work, and it hits like you a ton of bricks. You can’t breathe and it feels like nothing you do will be right. And that’s where Zen finds you when he gets home from set.
° You’re disheveled and not okay. When you’re not okay. Zen is not okay. He stays right by your side if you need him, and murmuring soft coaxing words to ease your shaking heart as best he can.
° Self care night. Immediately. Bath, dinner, the works, and it’s all on him. Don’t worry your little head.
° Zen will be upset when he realizes that people have been speaking ill of you. He’ll make sure to put an end to that as best he can. Nobody who is a good fan of his would ever do something to hurt people that he cares about so much.
° He will be your rock, your wall, your protector from what you fear if you want him to be.
° “Jagiya, I’m always going to be here for you… in the good times and the bad times, let me stay with you when you need a hand to hold.”
° You don’t often want to worry Jumin when he’s at work. You try to keep your inner anxiety and worries to yourself because surely Jumin can’t afford to take a moment to just be on top of you like you want him to all of the time. It can’t just be that way. Thinking about that really makes your heart beat faster and you hate the idea that you might be burdening people with your attacks.
° But, its not a good thing when you don’t answer your phone… or his texts… or his calls. That’s when he’s really concerned that something might have happened.
° He will drop work and go find out if you are okay for himself. Sure, he could get somebody to check ahead of him, but its not the same as knowing for sure that you’re alright and in one piece.
° He’s relieved to find you in the penthouse in tact, with Elizabeth the 3rd at your side, but he not relieved to see that you are in the midst of a panic attack.
° Jumin surprisingly adapts well to the situation? It’s not something he knows much about, but he’s quick to understand what you do and don’t like when you’re scared.
° Gentle caress, and hands on your shoulders. Trying to talk you down and make sure you don’t feel as frightened.
° When you are feeling more composed, he won’t want to leave you alone for the rest of the day. He’ll make sure that everything is taken care of and the two of you can be together and hash this out if you need to talk about what’s bothering you so badly. If not, he’s still going to be there with you and make sure you’re alright.
° “I may not know the best way to handle all of this. But I will do and arrange anything you want, as well as stay by your side with you as feel as you do. I love you, and I hope you feel as though you can share your worries with me.”
° Okay. He saw in your information that you’ve had some issues with your mental health over the years and he can’t stand the idea that someone as kind as you, is quietly suffering. You don’t bother others with your problems. You go out of your way to focus on everyone else, and you take care of them before you take care of yourself.
° He had guarded himself around you to keep your heart safe. But you broke down his walls and managed to keep yourself together this long despite what you’ve had to go through being stuck at his side. He feared that sooner or later, you wouldn’t be alright. But you smiled at him and he decided to keep fighting to make everybody happy.
° He knew this would happen. He didn’t know it would happen when he wasn’t there. Yeah, Saeran had to get in touch with him to tell him about the situation. He’s been doing a lot better recently, but he saw all the warning signs in you and had the bright idea to make sure that your idiot fiance knew that you needed him.
° When he comes back, you’re doing a little better but its clear that you had a really bad one. He’s upset that this happened, but he can’t be upset with you for it. He promises to stay if you feel awful. You just have to count on him as he counted on you.
° If this happens again, he wants to help you just like he’s done so hard for Saeran. He loves the both of you so damn much and he won’t stop fighting to make you both feel like you’re better. He’ll make you laugh, and hold you close.
° “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you smile. Whatever you need me to do for you, candies, robots, or babies! I’m ready to do it for you! … in all seriousness, I want you to know you can lean onto me no matter what. I’ll be here.”
° It’s… unsurprisingly obvious that something is not okay.
° Nobody would be in piece if they had to see what you have seen in that place that she built. You kept a rational head that whole time and Jihyun has no idea how you did that. He admires how strong you can be when you try so hard.
° But he shouldn’t have believed that even you were immune to the fear. You’ve been so patient with him, so you wants to work with you.
° He… knows what it’s like to see somebody he knows suffering through something. He doesn’t know how to handle it. He has never been given the chance to properly address problems, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try his best to try and make things right for you. He will make mistakes, and he might do something that makes it worse for a moment but he’ll do his damndest to remember what works and what doesn’t work for you, specifically.
° He didn’t know you had it this badly. When he sees you crying, and struggling to catch your breath, and nails digging into your arms he can’t just let it destroy you for however long it lasts.
° V stays back. He won’t touch you at first. He has to make sure that’s okay. If that’s okay, he’ll hold you close and never let go. He’s not so tact with his words, he just tries to take your mind off of your fears as best he can.
° It hurts to see you miserable.
° You have to talk with him about what you need. He wants to know what’s best for you in these situations and how he should be there so you don’t feel alone and scared.
° “I… I want to make sure you never feel alone. I know how you must feel, and I want to make sure you never feel as terrible as to feel you need to be alone. You taught me to trust in others. Trust in me. I’ll do my best for you.”
° God knows that you’ve seen Saeran go through panic attacks. What he doesn’t know at first is that you also suffer from them. He didn’t come across this information when he searched for you, and this entire time you be been helping him and at any time you could have been spurred into your own fears… and despite that, you continued to try and help him through his own problems. It’s something that he will admire about your caring heart, always.
° It just pains him to see that you’ve hidden yourself. He finds you in such a state of disarray, he can’t help but to hold you close and caress your hair down. He can’t bare the thought of his precious person hurting. He can’t stand the idea that you thought it would be a bother to him to share these fears of yours.
° Sometimes its a lot. You constantly remember what you’ve both gone through and the overwhelming fear just takes over your body. You cannot control this any better then you could before you met him. You thought you could.
° You were wrong about that. He works you through your breathing, and makes sure that you can’t hurt yourself in the process of trying to make your body feel like itself again.
° Saeran takes it upon himself to take care of everything that needs to get done that day. It doesn’t matter if you tell him its okay, he knows its not okay and you need space and love to feel better. He’s about to do everything for you because you did everything and more for him back when you first met. It’s the least that he could do but he’s about to go beyond what he could do and do the most that he can.
° He’ll hold your hand and keep you close.
° He hates to see you cry and he would do it all to help you smile.
° “You were there for me when I hit my lowest point… I know I might not be much help, but I’m here for you and I’ll always be here for you, princess, as long as your heart will allow me.”