#panic cw

[twindrillscomputer]

ok but imagine if martin desperately try to bandage where he stabbed jon (which I hc as where one of his eyes was) as he hyperventilates and whimpers, begging for forgiveness and wishing he didn’t have to hurt people he loved

Actually me crying makes a lot of sense now

#panic cw #anxiety attack cw #tma #tma 200 #the magnus archives #jonmartin

[sophiefosters]

logged on and got triggered into a panic attack but that aside

this is so stupid

#panic cw

[banannabethchase]

I've been panic crocheting all day to the point where I got so frustrated I almost cried, as the existential dread of being an American today is so aggressive I keep almost having panic attacks (scared for the lives of my students, my nieces, myself, you know the drill) SO HOW ARE Y'ALL DOING? YOU OKAY? YOU TRY THE SALAD? I THOUGHT THE SALAD WAS GREAT HAHAAHHAHAHAHAHSHRUDGHUIOF *crochets another scrunchie*

#I never do well when the Supreme Corruption does their bullshit #But I'm better than last year at least? #Time to crawl back in the closet with Tumnas #Fuccckkkk I hate T*xas so much #I hate Amerikkka so fucking much #I hate everything that's happening and I feel so fucking powerless and scared #I want to be myself #But it's not safe to be myself anywhere #My nieces are in danger #I'm in danger #My students are in danger #The only one who might be safe in my life is J and he's so batshit crazy when it comes to protecting his people... #panic cw #I don't know how to tag this #Welcoming happy stories or positivity in the ask box. Fluffy headcanons. Anything #This corresponded directly with my period too which is Fucking Terrible for like eighty reasons #Everything sucks and I'm upset #Anyway if you made it down here feel free to throw a HAPPY FLUFFY AND OR SMUTTY PROMPT in my ask #If you send me angst I'm going to jettison myself into the sun #in which Sara loses her shit #Haven't used that tag in a while

[goldshadowsarchive]

“ get off of me! get OFF! ” molly to harley !

@mooncaught / meme / selectively accepting

it had taken him two days to track them - track her - down and seeing her stumble out of the building like this, he knew it was two days too late. after a quick glance around to make sure no one else was following her, harley makes a move. the second he reaches for her arm, she loses it and he realizes his mistake but he doesn't back down now. he'll take the bruises and scratches but he won't leave her alone. first he holds her in place by her upper arms, words falling out of his mouth with a certain type of urgency. " it's me ! it's harley ! molly, look at me. you're okay. it's over. i got you. " once he has her attention and she stops struggling against his hold, his hands move to cup both her cheeks. using the sleeve of his hoodie, he wipes away some of the blood splattered on her face. a second later, he pulls her in for a tight hug, not wanting to let go anytime soon. " it's okay, i got you. "

#mooncaught #conversations. / harley. #panic cw #kidnapping cw

[fletcherwilbury]

@comfortember Day 30: The New Normal

Warning for Bullying, past assault, physical violence mention, flashback, vomiting, panic, exhaustion

#comfortember #comfortember 2023 #comfortember day 30 #the new normal #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 donnie #tmnt 2012 raph #tmnt 2012 mikey #tmnt 2012 leo #tmnt 2012 casey jones #tmnt 2012 april #bullying tw #past assault tw #physical violence mention cw #flashback cw #vomiting tw #panic cw #exhaustion cw

[solarmorrigan]

Saw someone mention how Steve tends to get defensive when he's anxious and it stuck with me, so here's my take on the "Steve breaks a dish and has a panic attack about it" trope

cw: descriptions of nonstandard panic attack, implied/referenced child abuse

-

The distinct sound of shattering porcelain is followed by a vehemently hissed, “shit,” and then silence.

“Steve?” Eddie calls from the couch into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve calls back, but his voice sounds tight in the way it does when something definitely isn’t okay.

Eddie pushes himself up and moves to the doorway, looking in to see what the trouble is. The kitchen of the house he and Wayne had been “gifted” by the government isn’t exactly huge, and he has a straight line of sight to where Steve is standing by the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, and to the red and white shards of porcelain on the floor by his feet.

“Hey,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t look up; if anything, his posture only gets tenser. “You’re not cut or anything, are you?”

“No,” Steve says, and his tone is still a little off, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

“What was that, anyway?” Eddie asks.

Finally, Steve takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes, looking down at the mess on the laminate. “Mug.”

As soon as he says it, Eddie recognizes the colors for what the design must have been. “Shit, the Campbell’s one?”

Steve doesn’t say a word, just gives one sharp nod.

Eddie sucks a hiss of breath in through his teeth. “Shit,” he says again. “That was Wayne’s favorite.”

“I know,” Steve says tersely. “I’m sorry.”

His tone is definitely weird. “I mean, I’m sure it was an accident, Steve–” Eddie starts.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, almost snapping this time. “I’ll clean it up.”

“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Steve jerks into motion and moves over to the corner where they stash the broom and dust pan.

“I’ll apologize to Wayne when he gets home,” Steve says as he starts sweeping up, even though Eddie hasn’t said a word.

“He gets home at, like, six in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure I’m up,” Steve says shortly.

“Steve, you can just tell him what happened later, he’s not going to stand around demanding an explanation. I mean, seriously, you think Wayne is gonna be pissed if you’re not there, immediately scraping at his feet when he comes through the door?” Eddie scoffs, but Steve remains silent. Eddie watches as he finishes sweeping in short, sharp motions, brows pulling together as Steve apparently fails to pick up on the joke. “…he won’t be, y’know.”

Steve shrugs. His expression has gone eerily blank, and he takes the dustpan over to the garbage can to dump it.

“Hey, don’t–” Eddie reaches out, and Steve jerks to a stop just in time. “You don’t have to toss it, man, we might be able to glue it back together.”

Steve sends Eddie a sharp look. “I’m not gonna be able to hide that it was broken, Eddie,” he says slowly, as though this should be painfully obvious.

“I’m not suggesting we hide it, I’m just saying we might still be able to use it,” Eddie answers in the same slow manner. “It’s not junk until you’re sure you can’t fix it.”

“Right,” Steve snaps, dropping the dustpan on the counter so sharply that the shards of porcelain clink against each other. “Can’t even clean up right.”

Eddie frowns, stirrings of defensiveness rising up in his gut at Steve’s continued sour mood. “I didn’t say that. I just said we might be able to fix it.”

“Fine. We’ll try to fix it,” Steve bites out, turning away from Eddie so he can put the broom back in the corner.

Eddie shakes his head, unwilling to engage with whatever snit Steve’s got himself worked into. “What happened, anyway?” he asks instead.

Apparently, this is the wrong tactic.

“What happened is, I’m too stupid to even do the dishes right,” Steve declares as he whirls back around. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“What?” Eddie is baffled, suddenly caught in the middle of an argument he hadn’t even realized was happening. “No! Why would I want to hear that?”

Steve throws his arms up, a demonstration of giving in. “Well I already said I’m sorry, and I am, and I don’t know what else you want from me!”

The heat of Eddie’s own temper is beginning to flare, but he does his best to shake it away because he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t think getting angry will help. “I don’t want anything else from you! Why are you acting like I’m yelling at you? I’m not, I’m not even upset about the stupid mug, so what the hell is your deal?”

He takes a couple of steps into the kitchen, reaching out for Steve, hoping just to touch some part of him. Physical contact has always been grounding, has always been a comfort for them both; it almost seems like they can communicate better if they can just be in contact somehow. Instead of reaching back, though, Steve tenses up; it’s not exactly a flinch, but it’s as if he’s bracing himself, as if he’s waiting for Eddie to–

Eddie takes in the painfully blank expression on Steve’s pale face, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that he can’t quite seem to control, the way he’s angled himself just slightly away from Eddie, and suddenly Eddie feels cold.

It’s as if he’s waiting for Eddie to hit him.

Eddie wonders how the hell he hadn’t realized he was walking through a minefield until he was already standing in the middle of it.

(It still takes him by surprise, sometimes, that Steve’s anxiety, his panic, tends to look more like anger. That he tends to lash out like a wounded animal when he feels backed into a corner, hurt too many times in moments of vulnerability to do otherwise.)

(It takes him by surprise, but he’s learning.)

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, dropping his hand slowly back to his side, “I’m not angry.”

Steve stares at him, almost confused, like Eddie’s not doing it right, like this isn’t what’s supposed to come next. Eddie sort of wants to break something (he thinks, briefly, that he’d like to start with the fingers on Mr. Harrington’s right hand, and then move on to his left).

“It’s just a mug, Steve, it’s okay. No one’s upset about it,” Eddie says. “I’m preemptively speaking for Wayne, because I know he’s not gonna be mad at you. Seriously, getting upset over a broken cup? Does that sound like something Wayne would do?”

Slowly, once he seems to realize that Eddie is waiting for an answer, Steve shakes his head.

“Does that sound like something I would do?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head again, though he’s still watching Eddie with something approaching trepidation.

“I promise it’s fine. I’m not angry,” Eddie repeats, and chances a couple of steps closer to Steve.

Steve doesn’t react this time, no tensing, no flinching, no verbally lashing out, and so Eddie lifts a hand again, reaching slowly for Steve’s. Steve lets him.

When he gets his fingers wrapped around Steve’s own, Eddie can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on Steve’s hand.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, invites him by lifting his other arm, but leaves it up to Steve.

It only takes a moment for Steve to step in close, and when Eddie lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, Steve reciprocates by cinching his own arms tight around Eddie’s waist. He takes one sharp breath, and then another, and Eddie can hear the way they shake going in and out.

“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Steve’s back.

“I just dropped it,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse. “It was an accident.”

“I know it was,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay.”

“It was an accident,” Steve says again, and Eddie wonders how often someone has believed him – how often he’d ever even been given a chance to explain.

“It was an accident,” Eddie agrees. “You’re okay, Steve.”

Steve lets out a little noise, like maybe he’s trying to laugh, but then he pulls in another shuddery breath and rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay.”

In a little bit, Eddie might lead Steve to sit down on the couch, or maybe just take them both up to bed, because fuck doing the dishes after this anyway; he’ll make sure to leave a note for Wayne about the mug (ask him not to bring it up until Steve does, to not even jokingly make a thing about it), but for now, he concentrates on holding Steve close.

He’ll stand with him as long as it takes for the shaking to stop, for his breathing to even out, for him to relax even just a little against Eddie, and he'll promise, as many times as Steve needs to hear it, that it’s okay. Things will be okay.

[Prompt: Embracing your partner]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #cw child abuse #referenced but does not take place in the fic #cw panic attack #even if it doesn't look like one at first #soft ending though as always I promise

[purblethinkin]

takes place sometime after season 1. wanted to draw a comic with these two

#fan art #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #shigeo kageyama #ritsu kageyama #anxiety cw #panic attack cw

[emilybeemartin]

Boromir Lives AU: Panic! At the Ballroom

Got some new soup for you.

CW! PTSD, panic attack, crowds, physical violence, blood, smoking

It's, uh, less cute soup than some of the others.

The last panel is a nod to when I was having regular panic attacks a few years ago, and the only thing that helped was lying on the floor, the colder and harder the better. At night I would lie in bed and feel like I was drowning in the blankets, until finally I'd move to the bare floor, sometimes with weight on my back, until I eventually fell asleep.

Anyway! Surprisingly this actually came from a very happy and lovely fic in which Boromir has a delightful time; in writing a crowd scene, though, I figured having spent 40+ years training to die in battle, he'd never shake the PTSD. It's okay, Aragorn can spot it coming a mile away. Hard to prep for a crushed windpipe delivered by 250 pounds of war trauma, though. Happy Thursday!

Boromir Lives: Helm's Deep

Boromir Lives: Whump-Time After Pelennor

Boromir Lives: GO TO SLEEP

Boromir Lives: Aragorn's Coronation

Boromir Lives: Faramir and Eowyn's Wedding

Boromir Lives: It's a BABY

Boromir Lives: High Uncle of the White Tower

Boromir Lives: We Didn't Have a Choice

Boromir Lives: The Haircuts

#boromir lives #boromir #aragorn #lord of the rings #tolkien #cw ptsd #cw panic attack #cw violence #cw smoking

[conspicuous-clown-car]

pushing boundaries

#have any of y’all’s cousins ever put a bean bag chair on top of your head #then sat in it and suffocated you for 10 minutes straight #fnaf moon #moon fnaf #fnaf dca #fnaf self insert #fnaf #fnaf sb #kirbsart #cw panic attack #tw panic attack #cw claustrophobia

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 136

 There is a small child floating in the Watchtower. 

They’re visibly not human, a too-big cloak of purple (what shade no one knows, all they can describe about the cloak is purple, nothing else) hanging from them as big Lazarus-green eyes glare down in something of a pout. The child huffs, blowing white hair out of their face despite it shimmering and shifting on its own already. 

How the child, inhuman or not, found their way into the Watchtower- without setting off an alarm no less- is a concern. A very large concern, but it can wait because there is a four-year old (if the child is the equivalent of a human child that is) at oldest staring down at them. 

 “Do you know where the speedsters are?” the child piped up after an awkward stare-down, none of the league members present quite sure what to do in this situation. It was probably around time to call Batman… or they could call Flash instead. 

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #Lil Time-Student Danny: The speedsters keep making Pops sick >:/ #Danny sneaking out to yell at the speedsters: #The JL who have no idea what’s going on #If Danny starts crying they’re gonna panic #How did Danny become a child? #Well there was an explosion and death and he didn’t want to go with Vlad #But staying in the Clocktower for so long has effects #Plus Clockwork had already claimed him as his ghostling #Some days Danny is younger and sometimes he’s his normal 14 years of age #Bonus on if the time medallion in his chest is now visible similar to Clockwork’s clock #He's just a lil baby ghostling whose parent keeps getting Really sick and he's scared #Gonna yell or punch at the people tearing through time and hurtin his dad #Whos gonna stop him #FK is too busy gathering medicine and tea for CW #The remaining observants are hoping Phantom gets stuck somewhere so they don't have to deal with the baby Ancient

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico wakes up to gagging and a soft glow coming from the bathroom.

His first thought is, bizarrely, that Hazel’s home. But her bunk is still empty, and her shoes aren’t by the door, and she didn’t wake him when she came in. She always wakes him when she comes in, even if it’s four thirty in the damn morning, because nothing makes her cackle quite like Nico choking back curses and tweaking under her smothering pillow.

“Shit,” comes a small voice from the bathroom, followed by more retching. “Shitshitshit, no —”

Nico bolts for the door.

“Hi,” Will says, or tries to. His scarred knuckles clench with every gag, wrapped too tightly around the rim of porcelain to tremble like the rest of him.

Something about the wobbly smile he keeps trying to form in between gags. Something about the sweat that has drenched his t-shirt, something about the deep circles under his eyes, something about his spot in the bed completely cold, wrinkled.

Something is not adding up.

“You’re not sick,” Nico murmurs, pressing the back of his hand to Will’s forehead. Will mutters something about bliss, leaning into Nico’s hand; he smiles again, but it is strained, and at odds with the glassy look in his eyes. The sharp, rapid breaths.

“Just don’t — feel good.”

Every word is punctuated by a big, heaving gasp, like he’s trying to breathe through heavy cotton. On a hunch, Nico slides his hands down Will’s face, brushing the goosebumps on his neck, the irritated, pulsing tendons, and rest flat against his chest, over his heart.

His heart that is pounding, so quickly it is actually challenging to recognise as a beat rather than a buzz.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Nico says quietly.

Will shrugs. He gags again, but clamps his mouth shut before it goes anywhere, breathing deeply and carefully through clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. His heart pounds faster, and the rapid movement of his chest grows shallow, but he manages to choke back his bile, swallow down whatever nausea is plaguing him.

“I’m — fine.” His laboured breathing is the loudest sound in the cabin. In the camp. “I’m handling it.”

Nico watches him. Watches him clench his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut and make a noise like he is being betrayed, like he is being sold for thirty silver by his own body, his own mind; watches him flex his muscles rigid and hold himself still like he can stop the nails and thorns from coming. He thinks of wide smiles and far away eyes and mental health pamphlets and cheerful slogans on infirmary walls.

“I think one of those things are true.”

“I don’t need —”

Whatever he doesn’t need is forgotten, because he is heaving again, only this time his body finds something to dredge up, even if that something is stomach acid and he cries as it burns its way up his throat, and in between heaving he wheezes, horrible whistling gasping noises, and his hair plasters to his forehead, and his body slumps into Nico’s hold and jerks away from him like rocky waves against a lakefront.

“How long have you been here?”

Will just shrugs again, and he cries, and he says “Leave, please,” and Nico wraps an arm tighter around his waist, and presses a kiss to his sweaty temple, lingering, holding, tasting salt from Will and from his tears both, and squeezing his eyes shut, and holding back the anger. Gritting his teeth and softening his hold, deliberately, resting his fingers delicately on the dip of Will’s hip, the raised pink of the stretch marks along his ribs.

“I hate it when you run from me,” he murmurs, and Will sobs again.

“I can’t breathe,” he says, and Nico squeezes and promises he can. “I’m dying. I’m dying, I’m gonna —”

“I’m here, Will.” He doesn’t say you’re not dying. He doesn’t say you’re fine, because this is the longest they’ve sat together in five days, because it is the the quiet middle of June, because yesterday Kayla spent half her shift screaming at Will to get out and ignoring him when he shouted back. Because the bandage around Will’s wrist has been worn to threads, because Lee’s hoodie has not been washed in weeks, because there is a newcomer named Michael and Will cannot even look at him. Because it has been bad. “I’m here.”

It is as much a reminder as it is a plea as it is a reprimand as it is a fruitless nothing, because when Nico struggles he gets angry, when Nico struggles he gets mean and biting and violent, but when Will struggles he wants the world to kill him. And for all that Nico is halfway to the grave he has clawed and chewed and fought his way to survival. And when Will scratches at the skin around his ears and screams into his hands and opens the chapped over scars on his lips his palms his fingers, Nico can only hold him, Nico can only gently pry his nails from his flesh and tell himself that one day they will get to the point where Nico wakes up. Where Will wakes him up, where he burrows into the place between his arms and his chest and hides in someone else for once. Where he trusts someone outside of himself enough to bare his back.

“I’m here,” he whispers again, and he presses his lips to Will’s hair and holds him as he sobs, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

#is this 100 ways?? i don’t actually know if it’s 100 ways #i’m writing this and then blocking it from my brain #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #will is Going Thru It #will solace angst #nico di angelo angst #solangelo #angst #will solace has anxiety #100 ways #100 ways to say i love you #cw panic attack #my writing #longpost

[mischefous]

*cough cough* possibly… Legend whump? Him having a panic attack?

*sneezes*

*looks down at my screen*

-oh hey!...oh dear...someone better get Legend a blankie and some warm milk🥹

#im a sucker for Legend whump. whether it be art or fics #ill take it #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #my art #lu legend #panic attack #angst #lu whump #cw whump #whump art #whump #art requests #thank you anon! #hero of legend #digital art

[v-albion]

….

He’ll be fine

…

Eventually

Context

Masterpost

@tmntaucompetition

#cw panic attack #tw panic attack #tmnt au competition #true colors au #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #v draws stuff #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leonardo #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt separated au #separated au #tc au #tmnt au comp #tmnt leo #tmnt leonardo #tmnt 2k18 #hamato leonardo #tmnt au #rottmnt au

[angelpuns]

Kid Leo Au: SPINOFF COMIC

Part 3!

I have an explanation as to why Leo is not concerned by Donnie's smallness, but I wanna see what everybody else thinks first!!!

Donnie awkwardly trying to comfort him is so just like me fr :) He's doing his best fr fr

Kid Leo Au Masterpost | First | Next

#rottmnt #art #fanart #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt comic #digital art #rottmnt art #comic #rottmnt kid leo au #kid leo au #rottmnt turtle tots #kid leo au spinoff #medium leo #lmao #cw panic attack #panic attack cw

[goldshadowsarchive]

“ get off of me! get OFF! ” for jami

@pyreshe / meme / selectively accepting

there will be no mercy for the people responsible for this. jami would make them regret every single second of their miserable, little lives. their deaths will be slow and painful and she will enjoy every second of it. however, her plans for revenge would have to wait until after bringing back livvy. approaching the older girl, jami can already feel the aching pain she radiates, the fear and the anger. she knew olivia would be warm to the touch and as she reaches out, she could feel the heat underneath her skin - daring to boil over and burn everything around her.

the begged screams and the struggle were something she expected but there's only so much calm she can influence in the other without feeling the guilt of it being manipulative. jami lets go either way, burnt fingertips causing her markings to glow but no complaint would slip past her lips. " livvy, it's me ! i'm not going to hurt you. " reassuring words as she did her best to keep the other's panic at bay. " it's safe now, just me, i promise. i got you. " hand is held out to her sister when all she really wants to do is wrap her arms around her and never let go. " it's over. we can go home. "

#pyreshe #conversations. / jami. #kidnapping cw #torture cw #panic cw

[void-bitten-ghost]

Husk teaches Angel some shuffling tricks one night and the spider picks it up like a natural. 'Something, something, good with his hands' followed quickly by a jovial 'shut the fuck up'

Anyway, Husk also ends up gifting Angel a deck of his own design with the heart motifs and the gold gilding and everything. There may also be some pale pink in there too but he'll never admit to that. Angel cries. It's a whole thing but they're pretending it's not so everyone (except Charlie) is just leaving them to it

But yeah, Angel having a panic attack in his dressing room, reaching for something, anything, a powder, a drink--

He knocks something over, turns to see his bag upturned, and cascaded across the floor like little flashes of golden rose petals? That deck of cards

He gathers them with trembling, feverish hands. Organises them slowly. By suit. Then by number. Then, when some feeling returns in his hands, he tries the simple shuffles. Not as smooth as when Husk was teaching him, but the movement helps direct his spiral into something less destructive. Failing that, he drops them on the floor again to mix up like that. Doesn't matter if its not pretty, it just needs to be real. It needs to keep him even and controlled

When the worst passes, he attempts the shuffles again, successfully, and feels a sense of pride and accomplishment, if only a flicker of it. Before he leaves he brings the deck up for a kiss, smelling a brief whiff of hard whiskey over the cloyingly sweet smoke all around him.

But yeah, that deck goes wherever he does. He stores it with his tommyguns

#angelhusk #huskerdust #cw panic attack #coping mechanisms