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#tw:crying
theprissythumbelina · 8 months
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I wrote something non-academic for the first time in months. It is, really, nothing, in that it doesn't need to be in the main story. But I wrote it so I guess I'll do something with it. Nicolette and Alyss live again!
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Nicolette woke to Alyss crying. It sounded breathless, wet, in the dark of their shared room, more silence than noise. She wanted to do…something. That’s what you were supposed to do for a crying person, right? Nicolette, as always, didn’t have a clue what to do. So she did nothing but listen as a half-stranger cried to herself in her dreams. She stared up at the paneled ceiling, tracing the grain of the wood by lamplight. After a half-hour, maybe more, the sound of crying faded to background noise, and a memory wormed its way up through the gravel in her head. She remembered crying like that not too long ago. She remembered the feeling of her chest sucking in with each sob. She remembered Daisy, wrapping a blanket around her, bringing cold water, caring. Nicolette blinked up at the wood grains again, Alyss now sleeping quietly. The quiet was worse than the sobs. 
Its not much but its honest work @thetruearchmagos @italiangothicwriteblr
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scoutswritingcorner · 11 days
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It's Still You
Alastor x GN!Reader
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A/n: Part two of ‘Despite Everything’ also a big thank you to my lovely Kuro (@kurosstuff)- They helped me figure this out!!
TW:Crying, talks about murder, a little screaming, angst. DONT WORRY THERE IS FLUFF I PROMISE!!
He didn’t remember when Rosie had guided him to sit down at a table, you sat across from him as Rosie had to leave to go make some tea saying something about “Needing to talk it out”. He would agree but his pride didn’t want to be bruised more than it already was. The way you won’t even look at him, of course he didn’t blame you but it still irked him to no end.
“Darling..” He started but was caught off with a loud scoff from you, “You don’t get to call me that anymore, Alastor.” You hissed venom lacing your tongue and it went right to his undead heart like a knife. He stayed silent for the first time in a long time, The Great Radio Demon was stunned silent and backed down like a kicked dog. But what made it worse was how tears started to well up in your eyes yet you didn’t acknowledge them, only looked at the wall across from you. “..Rosie told me you were still singing around here..you have your own little parlor..” He whispered out the radio effect gone from his voice, you nodded wordlessly.
He played with his cane and looked away from your face, “Why do you care? Have you ever fucking cared, Alastor?” You hissed out finally looking- no glaring at him. “Was our marriage just for show? It felt like it.” He flinched as his ears fell flat on his head at that thought of you thinking he truly didn’t love you. He showed it the best ways he could. “No no, it was never for show. I could never hurt you like that.” He calmly replied, trying not to let anyone see how upset he was at your words. No one could know The Radio Demon had a weakness.
That made you sob out and stand up collecting your things. He stood up as well reaching out for you but you moved away from his reach. “But you did. You killed me, Alastor. I did everything for you, I got the cops off your tail and covered your tracks when you were too damned tired to notice you got sloppy.” You yelled out, “I worshiped you, you were my husband, what else was I supposed to do?” Tears now falling freely down your face as your hands trembled, “I was scared of my own husband during my last moments alive.” 
He froze in place his ever lasting smile had fallen into a deep frown as he slowly walked closer to you. “That was probably my first fucking mistake in a long line of them but love makes you do crazy shit. And I truly did love you..I still do but I’m so afraid.” His shadow curled around your body as his hands finally reached to cup your face, wiping the tears away from your eyes. “I love you as well, my Songbird.” He started watching as you nuzzled into his hands, “I loved you from the moment I laid my eyes on you. I’m sorry for everything I have done..for how I’ve hurt you. You were never my target.” He whispered out, pulling you closer to his body.
“You were my everything, cher..” He leaned his forehead against yours as you let another sob rip through you. “My driving force, the person I wanted beside me at all times..could we try again? If you allow me the chance?” He asked softly, smiling as he felt your hands, your much softer hands than his, had grabbed onto his clawed ones and nodded. “I would like that, Al..I’m sorry..” 
He hummed and gently placed a kiss upon your forehead, “There is nothing to be sorry for. Tu as toujours eu mon coeur, mon petit oiseau chanteur.” He wouldn’t ruin this chance, not again. You both would run Hell side by side.
A/n: This made me fucking cry so much, I hope everyone loves it! Translation: "You always had my heart, my little songbird."
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wrenqueenisboss · 2 years
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You saved me, you know
TW: suicide, self-harm, depression, crying, cursing, arguing parents, mental issues, trauma, self-harm scars, abuse (physical and mental), self-destructive behavior, HEAVY ANGST Note: I believe that Tommy uses his phrase “big man” in a gender neutral way. The reader is gender neutral, but Tommy still uses the phrase because I think it just works.
Characters: y/n, Technoblade, Wilbur, Tommy, Philza, abusive mom and dad Pronouns: gender neutral Words: 2.1k+
PLEASE be careful. This could be very triggering very easily. 
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Technoblade, Wilbur, and Tommy had burst into the room of their youngest sibling one night, concerned that they hadn’t spoken to anyone at all that day. When they saw the state that their sibling, Y/n was in, they called Philza.
While they waited for Dadza to climb the stairs and reach Y/n’s bedroom, Techno walked over and cautiously sat next to Y/n on their bed. He placed a gentle hand on their shaking shoulders, trying to calm their sobbing.
After what seemed like only a few heartbeats, Phil was already by Y/n’s side. Comforting; talking slowly in his soothing voice. Wilbur went to get his guitar, beginning to play a soft lullaby. Tommy just sat on the floor in front of his sibling. He knew that his presence was calming enough, as long as he was calm too.
“What’s wrong, Y/n?” Techno asked, rubbing circles on their back. “Why are you crying?”
For the first time since they’d walked in Y/n’s room, they lifted their head from their hands. Their eyes were red, cheeks streaked with tears. But surprisingly, Y/n was smiling. No, not the joyful smiles that hold captured sunshine or grins that shine with the light of the stars. This was a sad smile, a ripple in a puddle, a small ray of light in the clouds, a hazy rainbow.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Y/n whispered. “Not anymore.”
“What do you mean, big man?” Tommy was just as confused as the rest of the family. “Explanation please.”
So, with a shaky inhale, Y/n began their story....
I was in the darkest time of my life.
The darkness looked a little bit too much like home. It was too familiar. Death was starting to look a little too much like a solution. Drowning in my own shadowed thoughts became a horrible habit. It was a terrible cycle. One I knew I needed to break.
The problem was, I didn’t know how. Countless times, I tried to force myself back into the person I used to be. The happy, upbeat, extroverted, optimistic person I used to be. It didn’t work. Nothing ever did. 
All the while, the pressures of school were beating down upon me like the relentless waves of a stormy sea. I couldn’t catch a breath. Between all of the pressure and work and expectations that were the waves, and the mental demons that were the ocean rocks, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t swim up to get air.
At a certain point... I figured it would be easier to just... swim down. I figured that the only way to end the terrible cycle was to end me. For the first time since I could remember, I was being kept up entirely by my own mind. And not my parents screaming at each other.
As the days continued, I became more and more fixated on the idea of death. You see, that’s the scary thing about depression. Towards the beginning, you can ward off your intrusive thoughts. You can list reasons as to why you should remain living, breathing, and maybe suffering for a little longer. You preach words of hope to yourself. Make yourself promise to hold on for a better future. But little by little, you lose those reasons. Your reasons dwindle away. So does your hope.
They fade. And whither. And shatter. They leave. And they die.
And soon, you’re left with an empty list of reasons and no hope. An empty promise to yourself. I was getting closer and closer to ending it all. Ending the insufferable sequence of torture.
Shockingly, my teachers began to notice my change in behavior. I thought I hid my emotions well. I was wrong. I thought a lot of things. I was wrong about those as well.
When I was partnered with some random kid for an annoying English assignment, I already knew that I had decided. I knew that I was going to die soon. I just hadn’t decided when. For some reason that I’ll never understand, my mind insisted on waiting until I finished the project. Until I got my grade back. Even then, the pressures of getting good grades were still ingrained in my scarred mind. At this point, my mind was just as scarred as my wrists.
But to my utter surprise, my English partner wasn’t a total asshole. Sure, he might have had the vocabulary of a sailor, was loud and slightly annoying at first, but I could tell he was smart. 
One day, we needed to work overtime to finish the assignment. You see, this particular day wasn’t a great day at all. I had managed to retreat even farther into the hellish depths of my depressing thoughts. Death began to look even more like release. Like the perfect solution. Not to mention, my parents seemed to be at each other’s throats more than usual. 
But school didn’t care. Life didn’t care. My responsibilities couldn’t wait. Neither could my English partner. He needed to pick up his grades or he wouldn’t be able to go to his older brothers’ football games. I was an only child. I didn’t understand that. He was insistent that we work at my house. Kept saying that his house was too chaotic and that we’d never get any work done.
I tried to explain the same thing. I tried to explain, without revealing anything too personal, that we simply couldn’t work at my house. The library would work.  So would the park. Anywhere but my house. 
He wouldn’t listen. My stubborn English partner walked me to my own house. He had looked up the directions after finding my address in the directory and was practically dragging me by the hand. 
I couldn’t let him see the disaster that was my life. I had tried for so long to keep my school life and my home life as separate as possible. One disaster could not mix with another. That would breed catastrophe. I couldn’t deal with that. 
But still, he walked me to my house, practically shoved me up my front stairs and waited expectantly for me to open the door and let us in.
I tried, one last time, to convince him that we should work somewhere else. I gave one more half-assed excuse. Unsurprisingly, my efforts were fruitless. Too emotionally and physically tired, I opened the door....
We were greeted by screaming. Accusations thrown like paper airplanes with knives for tips. Hurtful names called like names at morning attendance. Some things were broken. Yesterday, I cleaned up a broken mug. The one that I put my fingerprints on when I was three. The shards left a few small cuts on my hands. Nothing I wasn’t used to. 
This time, there are a few picture frames laying face down on the floor. I can tell just by the frames what they are. The three of us at Disney. Mom and I at my kindergarten graduation. Dad and I at one of my sports games. All of these pictures are more than five years old. We don’t take family pictures anymore. Those are for real families. Real families are not us.
I grab my assignment partner’s hand firmly and lead him upstairs to my room. We can still hear the yelling, but it’s a little bit better. I make a mental note to clean up the mess downstairs later. 
He sets down his backpack on the floor before sitting down. With the most concerned expression I’ve ever seen, he asks if I’m okay. 
Tears nearly spring to my eyes. I’ve never been asked that question this genuinely before. It’s a question that’s only been asked to me out of obligatory concern. No one has actually cared. But my classmate seems to be different.
As a reward for his sincerity, his concern, I answer honestly. I answer with a dark laugh and a heavy-hearted no. That tells him what he needs to know. He can tell I don’t want to talk about it. He’s smart like that.
We work on the project for another hour before the screaming and shouting and accusing gets too loud. We decide together to work on the project together after school at his house. Before he leaves, we exchange numbers. Then, he sneaks out of the house as quietly as possible, trying not to catch my parents’ attention. But he goes unnoticed. Of course he does. Mom and Dad are too busy tearing each other apart with words meant only for people you are supposed to hate. Maybe they do hate each other. Nothing is clear anymore. It stopped being clear a while ago.
Fulfilling only one of my many self-promises, I walk downstairs to clean up the broken picture frames. Another smashed mug has joined the frames on the floor. It’s shattered irreparably as well. Just like my parents’ relationship. Just like me.
But of course, just as I bend down to carefully pick up the shards of broken glass and ceramics,  I get yelled at. I get screamed at too. My relationship with my parents is just as fractured as their own. Or maybe it’s worse. I get hit sometimes. A sharp punch to the face, a horrible punishment, a kick to the diaphragm. It’s not always physical, though. The hateful words they use on each other are used on me too. It’s as if they don’t realize I say half of those things to myself already. I doubt they’d care if they did know. I doubt a lot of things these days.
In both of their anger - with themselves, each other, or me, I’ll never know - I acquire a few more cuts. A glass shard is pressed into my hand. I was shoved so hard I fell to the ground, right on top of the neat pile of glass and pottery that I had compiled. The skin on my knees splits open, as does the skin on my hand. Thank god it’s not my dominant hand.
Finally, I’m sent back to my room. I check my phone. I see a notification. It’s from my English partner. 
He tells me to pack a bag in his text. Tells me that his father made dinner and that his brothers aren’t that scary. 
I contemplate whether or not I should end it now. It wouldn’t be that difficult, I’m sure. 
But I promised myself. I promised, for some reason I’ll never know, that I’d wait until I finished the project. Wait until I got my grade back.
So I do. I shove back the thoughts that tease me with the thought of death, of release. I shove them back to the dark space that is my mind. They don’t have a designated corner anymore. They’ve made my whole mindscape their home.
I end up packing my bags. I end up gathering my school supplies, two nights worth of clothes - just in case - and other basic necessities into two bags. Just like my English partner, I manage to slip out of my house unnoticed. Again, Mom and Dad are too busy arguing. 
My classmate texts me his address. It’s actually close. Close enough to walk. So I do.
As I walk, I receive another text. 
He tells me that he never got my name. Or that he did, and didn’t remember.
I tell him mine. Or I remind him. Same difference.
Just in case, he tells me his.
It’s Tommy.
Tommy introduces me to his family. To his loving dad, Philza. To his older brothers, the twins, Wilbur and Technoblade. They are kind and welcoming. And they love each other. Philza and his long-time girlfriend, Kristin. The family helps  me become legally independent from my mother and father. They adopt me on my birthday. Everyone sheds a couple tears. 
But now I finally have a proper family. One where I am loved. The love is like the calm tropical oceans. I remember when I used to drown in horrible waves of hate and pain and suffering and despair. Now I drown in different waves. Waves of love and warmth and family and support. And I’m happy with the way that I’m drowning. Which is more than I ever thought I’d be able to say.
Everyone is in tears as Y/n finishes their story.
“Oh my fuckin’ god, Y/n,” Tommy breathes, his voice shaky with the effects of his crying. Phil doesn’t scold him for his language. He’s too emotional himself.
Wilbur has long stopped playing his guitar. He sits beside Tommy now, holding his brother’s hand. For his comfort or for Tommy’s, it doesn’t matter.
Even the stoic Technoblade’s face has tear tracks that glimmer slightly in the light of the room. He’s crying. Mourning the pain his sibling - adopted, but sibling nonetheless - had to go through.
Y/n wipes their tears. Flashes that bittersweet smile again. The ripple in the puddle. The small ray of light. The hazy rainbow. 
They take a deep breath in. They exhale. “You saved me, you know.”
“You actually saved my life.”
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bridoesotherjunk · 3 years
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My dog does this every time I leave the house without him.
Warning: loud and possibly triggering. He's fine, he just screams because he misses me and has bad separation issues.
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aethersvoide · 3 years
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Smokey backstory go brr
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warcats-cat · 6 years
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Accident
A/N: Hey friends! It’s me again! So, I want to preface this one with MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS which will be posted just below this paragraph. This fic is about a car accident. Specifically, it is (roughly) the story of the accident I was in not too long ago. I’ve changed a few things to fit the characters and tried to fill in details that I don’t remember, but I was told about later. This is a coping fic; I won’t be offended if you don’t want to read it. However, as always, thanks so much to my amazing, wonderful, and super duper nice beta @ironwoman359 for everything she does and in general being a really cool person, and to my two best friends in the whole world @bleustatic and @radioactivecitylights for being with me through everything. 
Trigger warnings for: Car Accident, panic attack, hospitals, medical talk, shock, trauma, minor injury, rude/uncaring hospital staff, talk if chronic medical conditions. If you would like me to tag anything else on this, Please PLEASE let me know. Thanks for reading! I love you all!
There was rain falling on his head, dripping onto his glasses, and making it harder to see.
“You’re going into shock, sweetheart.”
He was shaking all over. His ear was still ringing, and it hurt so badly.
“Can you tell me your name?”
He was trying to just remember how to breathe.
“I’m sorry.” He responded. “I didn’t see him.”
“It’s ok.” There was a woman sitting next to him. She had told him she was a nurse, but he couldn’t remember her name. “Accidents happen. That’s why it’s called a car accident. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Patton. Patton Hart.”
An umbrella was suddenly above him. He must have missed the other woman with him leaving to get it. Patton could hear sirens in the distance.
He hadn’t even seen the other driver. He had stopped and looked both ways. He had never seen him.
Patton could remember looking out the window as he turned, and the panic of realizing there was another car hurtling towards him in the rain. He could remember his foot pressing the gas as hard as he could, hoping in that split second for a miracle.
Patton could remember the split second in between, when he gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could and tucked his head down just slightly, not even consciously, as his car was sent spinning and finally landing.
Patton could remember the seconds after, dimly thinking that he had never known there was an airbag above his window, and that the one in the steering wheel hadn’t gone off. That his car was talking to him. That his left ear was burning, and ringing, and it felt like a gunshot had gone off right next to his face.
Patton could remember jumping out of his car and running over to the other driver, the only thing he could manage to say was to ask if he was ok. The other driver wouldn’t even talk to him.
Now he was sitting on the curb of a parking lot just off the road. There was a woman who apparently was a nurse talking to him. He was going into shock. He couldn’t stop crying.
“Could … could one of you please get the lamb from my car?” he asked quietly. He felt stupid as it came out of his mouth. An air freshener that doubled as a stuffed animal that Roman had bought him for some reason he couldn’t remember. He needed something in his hands. Maybe it would keep his brain and body from falling apart.
Logan.
Logan was still at work, and wouldn’t be home for at least another hour. But Logan would know what to do. What to say. Virgil was halfway across town. Roman was somewhere for an audition, and Patton was kicking himself for not being able to remember where.
“I need to call my housemate.” Patton told the nurse, as the stuffie-lamb was passed into his hands. At some point he had taken off his glasses, trying to keep them from getting more speckled with rain. He kept the lamb in one hand and wiggled his cell phone from his pocket with the other. His hands were shaking as he tried to dial, even using speed dial was difficult.
“Hello? Patton?” Logan’s voice started Patton’s crying again in full force.
“Logan I was just in a car accident.” The words rushed out of his mouth, pinched with his crying. “I didn’t even see the other driver. Oh my god. I don’t know what to do.”
“Patton you have to breathe. Are you alright?” Logan asked. His voice was tight, and he spoke quickly.
“My ear hurts. And my shoulder.” Patton felt like he was fixating on his ear. He had only just stopped holding onto it, in the same way a child holds onto a paper cut or a pained wrist.
“Did you speak with the other driver? Did you get his information?”
“No, I…” Patton didn’t know what to say. The other driver wouldn’t even talk to him, and kept loudly proclaiming that his back ‘kinda hurt, a little.’ Patton could hear sirens getting louder. “I don’t really know what happened. I didn’t see him. I was turning and I was fully stopped and I looked both ways twice and I swear I didn’t see him.”
“Patton, please, you need to try to breathe. Have the police gotten there? Are you still in the road?”
“No, they’re not here yet but I can hear them. There’s some ladies here with me.” Patton said. He gave the lamb another squeeze. The woman holding the umbrella was speaking with the other driver now, and taking down notes for Patton. When had that happened?
“That’s good. May I speak with one of them?”
Patton nodded in response. It wouldn’t occur to him until later that Logan couldn’t actually see him doing that. He pulled the phone just slightly away from his good ear. The left one had stopped ringing but still stung pretty badly.
“My housemate wants to talk to you. Is that ok?” Patton asked the nurse quietly. She smiled gently at him and gave an affirmative, and Patton passed over the phone.
As soon as the phone was out of his hand, there were too many people talking to him. There was a man he was fairly sure was a firefighter trying to ask him questions, and someone he hadn’t yet spoken with trying to interpret all of his answers to the fireman as answers to her, and other people making noise and the sounds of cars slowly being allowed to pass and it was all far too much.
He snapped, “Please there’s too many people and I can’t think!”
The fireman took that as an attack on him, and made a face and dismissive motion, and then Patton was tripping over himself to apologize. The nurse handed back the phone and smiled again.
“It’s alright, sweetheart; it’s ok to be overwhelmed.”
“Patton?” Logan’s voice sounded again on the phone. “I’m on my way home right now. Can you have them take you to Mercy Hospital when the ambulance arrives? I will meet you there as soon as I can. I will also call Virgil and Roman. Do you want me to stay with you on the phone?”
“No.” Patton said. His phone made a mid-call beep to tell him that someone was trying to get ahold of him. “I think someone else is trying to call.”
“Alright. It’s going to be ok, Patton. The important thing is that everyone is conscious and speaking. No one was seriously injured. I’m going to hang up now. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”
Logan never said that unless something was wrong. If nothing was wrong, why had an ambulance been called? He hung up with Logan and was immediately greeted with a call from Virgil. “H-Hey, Virge.” He tried, but couldn’t help the shake in his voice.
“Pat? Patton are you ok? I got a text from Logan like twenty minutes ago that you were in a car accident?? Are you ok?” Virgil was almost as upset as Patton was. At least, he sounded that way. But Virgil was also prone to over-panicking, especially concerning his housemates. They often felt as though they were all each other had, and Virgil felt that loneliness the most keenly of the four.
“I’m scared.” Patton responded honestly. “I’m scared and I’m upset and I wish I had just gone home.”
“Don’t.” Virgil started. “You can’t do that, remember? You can’t stick on the what-if’s. If I can’t, you can’t.”
“I know that. But it’s hard.” Patton heard more sirens. The ambulance this time. He was thinking about the costs and insurance and his car and everything else their house of four was splitting between them that was now going to be significantly strained. “I think the ambulance is here. I have to go.”
“Ok, Pat. I’ll see you there.” Virgil’s voice was soft. The ambulance had arrived and Patton was being escorted onto it. He felt like he was running out of time. He had never been on an ambulance before. He toyed with the plastic clip on the lamb in his free hand.
“You’d better drive safe, mister.” It was automatic. Patton had always worried about his friends, his family, and always told them to drive safe. It was out of his mouth well before the irony of the statement registered with him. Virgil chuckled, and it was a little watery.
“I will. Always.” And with that he hung up. Patton was loaded into the ambulance. The person sitting in the back with him strapped him onto a rolling bed and looked miffed when Patton responded to the question of whether he needed anything with a request to retrieve his nearly-forgotten dinner. The rest of the ride was filled with only the noise of both medic’s radios reporting in and out and making noises that Patton couldn’t really make out.
As the ambulance drove on, Patton was hyper-aware of every bump and crack and tumble that passed under the wheels. His face was sticky and his nose was stuffed and he rubbed his thumbs along the soft fur of the lamb now clutched in both of his hands. He felt terribly unsafe as the ambulance made a wide turn onto the highway and his rolling bed rolled widely to one side before the medic caught the bed and held it in place. All at once the trip to the hospital was achingly long and passed in a blur. The what-if’s of his evening clogged his brain. His ear had finally stopped hurting.
The ambulance finally stopped at the emergency entrance, and he was being unloaded. His glasses were sitting in his lap with his phone, but when the doors opened he could still see someone just outside. Someone in loose black yoga pants and a red top, someone who had clearly been doing something entirely different just a half hour ago. Patton started to tear up again.
“Is that your brother?” the medic asked. Patton felt stupid and small all over again, and couldn’t even understand why.
“No, he’s my housemate. But he might as well be my brother.”
The medic didn’t respond, but Roman walked over to the bed, and once again, Patton was told to breathe. Roman walked alongside the bed as it was pushed in through the maze of hallways and doors.
“Lean back, Padre. Relax. You’re ok.” He said. Patton hadn’t even realized he was forcing himself to lean up. He let his shoulders and head lay back against the slightly inclined bed and watched the ceiling as it passed above him. People were talking. Probably talking to him. But as he tried to lean up again, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, closer to his collarbone than the forming bruise and strained muscles. “Easy. Just lay back, ok? You’re ok. Logan and Virgil will be here in just a few minutes.”
Patton tried to lay back again. He fiddled with the lamb. He was pulled into a hospital room and the bed was lowered, and he had to sit up to move off the ambulance’s bed and onto the hospital’s bed. There were too many beds, quite frankly, and not a single one of them comfortable.
The hospital’s bed, at least, was inclined better, so he felt like he was sitting up and could see everyone. Roman sat in one of the chairs next to him, politely smiling at the nurses, while they worked to confirm Patton’s name, date of birth, etc. Patton was given a plastic bracelet with a barcode and finally they left.
Finally, Patton was alone.
He couldn't help himself, he started crying again, and Roman moved to the bed and took Patton carefully in his arms for a hug. It was awkward, but it helped and Patton finally started to feel grounded.
And, of course, Roman’s phone began buzzing in his pocket right then. “Ah, the others are here. I’ll be right back to show them in, ok?”
Patton almost didn’t want to let him go, but he watched as Roman left and fiddled with the lamb and wormed his own cell phone back into his pocket, and then wormed his wallet out to give a passing nurse his insurance hard.
Logan all but stormed into the room, taking up a spot close to Patton’s feet after giving him a one-armed hug, bumping his left shoulder on accident. Roman came in after with Virgil not far behind. Virgil’s face was pinched, his upper lip curled slightly as he looked up and forced himself to breathe through his nose.
He’s scared. He’s been scared. It’s starting to hit all four of them.
Roman pulled him aside slightly; not out of the room, but away from his first position just a few inches from the foot of Patton’s bed. Roman took Virgil by the shoulders and looked into his eyes.
“Look. He’s fine. He’s fine, and he’s awake, and he’s talking. He’s gonna be ok. We’re all gonna be ok, Virge.”
Virgil swallowed hard and moved over to Patton’s right side, and stood there for a minute. He leaned over and gently pressed his forehead against Patton’s. It was affectionate and gentle, and Patton reached up with his good arm and wrapped it around Virgil’s shoulders to pull him closer, because they were both still scared out of their minds. But they could finally start to relax.
The four spent the next three hours in the hospital just waiting. Patton’s request to use the restroom was met favorably. His request to eat his dinner was met with an angry nurse loudly and rudely reminding him that he is in a hospital and was in a car accident and ‘if you’re only worried about eating right now then you shouldn’t have come to the hospital in the first place.’
Patton tried not to cry again as he explained that he hadn't had anything since early this morning, and his medical record did show a condition induced by stress and low blood sugar, and he didn't want to faint on top of everything else. The nurse left in a huff. The doctor came in to ask if he wanted anything to eat or drink. The doctor returned with apple juice, just in case.
Virgil was the only one who remained standing through everything. Maybe he just couldn't make himself sit. Patton was sure that, if their positions were reversed, he would have done the same thing. Roman sat in a chair to his left. Logan was sitting in a chair at his feet, and right next to the door. Patton could feel himself starting to relax as the fear wore off and he continued to be surrounded by his family.
Roman had to tell him, gently, to stop obsessing on what-if’s and maybes, saying that they would only eat him alive in the end. Roman was right, of course, but Patton couldn't stop. He didn't want to be there, in that moment. He wanted to be at home, talking about his day at work, and looking forward to tomorrow, and listening to the others talk about whatever they did today, and seeing their happy faces.
Instead, everyone’s faces are pinched, and the room is largely silent.
They sat in the hospital for three hours and finally, the doctor came in with papers. One for insurance. One for the bill for their copay. One for work tomorrow, in case he wakes up and doesn’t want to go in. (His boss had already called, frantically, and told him that he would ‘not be coming in tomorrow for any reason because you need to rest.’) ��There are other papers, but Logan took them all, likely to keep Patton from worrying.
Someone offered Patton a wheelchair for his walk out to the main exit where Roman’s car was. Roman would be the one driving him home, and then the duty of rides to and from work and other places would be split. Patton declined the wheelchair. There were other people who probably needed it a lot more than he would. Still, Virgil took his good arm and carefully walked alongside Patton all the way to Roman’s car, and didn't let go until Patton was seated in the driver’s seat. Virgil pressed his forehead against Patton’s again, and Patton gave him a little kiss on his nose.
“I’ll see you at home, kiddo.” He couldn't say ‘drive safe’ again. He didn't know why he couldn't.
Logan comes over next, and gave Patton another gentle hug, carefully wrapping his right arm under Patton’s left to avoid the bruising. He said nothing, but that was ok. Logan’s eyes gave the impression that his brain was running a marathon. The hug said everything that needed to be said.
Roman got into the driver’s seat as Logan and Virgil went to find their own cars and head home. Patton pulled the seatbelt across his chest as Roman started the car, already buckled in. Patton looked out the window the entire time. Roman had turned the radio off. The drive was silent save for the sounds of the road.
Patton could feel the car move. The road was familiar; the one he took nearly every day to work, and back-and-forth from the craft store, and some old friend’s houses, and in general when he would drive. He’s never noticed all the cracks and bumps under the wheel before. He’s never noticed the noises that the tires make against the asphalt. He’s never noticed anything other than the cars around him as he drives, and the path ahead that he has come to know like the back of his hand.
In that moment, however, those were the only things he could focus on; the cracks and the potholes and the bumps. Every turn picked up the pace of his breathing, just for a moment. Every car that passed on the two-lane road was the sole object of his focus until it was past once again. The road was dark in the evening light, and the blinding headlights of other cars were, mercifully, few and far between.
He’s never had trouble driving before. Now he sat wondering how long it would be before he had that comfort back.
They arrived home in the blink of an eye; Logan and Virgil already there. Patton walked upstairs to his bedroom almost like a zombie. He dressed for bed, and took his medicine, and laid his glasses on his nightstand mechanically. He had carried the lamb up all the way to his room, and now it sat there on his desk. He went over to grab it and laid back down, holding it tightly.
Patton cried himself to sleep, confused and scared and exhausted.
He never saw the other driver.
He should have gone straight home from work.
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blatently-pagan · 6 years
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I literally stopped to take a photo of myself crying in the middle of a breakdown for a reference photo, what is wrong with me?
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wewillryesagain · 6 years
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Part of my dream last night was me like completely breaking down sobbing about Nick Rye and that's the mood today folks
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stanfordpining · 9 years
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I’ve cried three days in a row
Today, the 3rd day, I cried bc a bug stung me and I had a panic attack and it hurt like a son of a bitch, so I cried like a big baby. Again.
My brother made me make a benadryl to make me sleep and just in case I have an allergic reaction and iced it. 
The other two days was bc of my depression being a bitch and now if I’m by myself for too long with my thoughts, I get suicidal. 
I honestly don’t know what’s happening but I can tell you for sure that I’m not liking a minute of it.  
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lesbianthalia · 10 years
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39 :D
Thank u for the question mega cutie!!! :)
39. Would you ever join the Hunters of Artemis?
I WANT TO BE A HUNTER SOO BAD OMG YESS I WOULD JOIN LIKE AS SOON AS A I SAW THEM ISTG EVERY HUNTER WOULD PROBABLY BE LIKE DONE WITH ME BCI WOULD BE SO EXCITED TO BE ONE I WOULD PROBABLY BE CRYING OMG
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itzcaspy · 5 years
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warcats-cat · 6 years
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A Month and the Aftermath
A/n: Heya!! your friendly neighborhood vent-writer here! Some of you may remember about a month ago I wrote the fic Accident about a car wreck that I had been in. It has not been roughly a month since that event and I am finding myself in the awkward place of wanting to move on but feeling stuck. Since the last fic did help a lot to process the emotions immediately surrounding the event, I decided to give them another go and let myself reflect on the incident. This follow-up fic is not true-to-life like the other one was so much as a boiling-down of a lot of advice and reassurances I have received from my family, friends, and my therapist. I hope you enjoy and please let me know if I have missed anything. ((Also you can now find my fics on ao3!))
As always, I want to take my two besties, @radioactivecitylights and @bleustatic, for supporting me and being with me thorough everything. This fic is UN-BETA’D so you can feel free to comment if you see anything majorly wrong or confusing, but PLEASE DON’T NIT-PICK as it doesn’t help anyone in the long run. 
TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR: Car accident, talk of a past accident, frustration, violent talk, crying, physical closeness.
Patton stormed into the kitchen through their small garage, kicking his shoes off slightly more roughly than necessary as he went. Logan sat at the kitchen table, something savory-smelling in the oven, reading.
“And what has happened?” Logan asked, his voice neutral and without looking up.
“I hate that car. It's awful! I should have never bought it!” Patton started gruffly, perhaps more nastily than he really intended, “I should have never let you talk me into buying it!” He shoved an accusatory finger in Logan's direction as he moved to make himself a cup of tea. Something to hopefully calm him down.
Logan sighed through his nose and glanced up at Patton, watching as the other tramped around the kitchen as if he could physically stomp the anger out of his body.
Ah, he had such temper tantrums.
“What has happened now?” Logan asked. The behavior had been slowly building since Patton had gotten the car, to replace the one he had totaled a month prior. It was well out of place on the usually calm and positive man; but it was somewhat to be expected with all of the stress he had been holding onto since that day.
Patton grumbled as Logan finally shut and set the book aside. “I don't like it! It's--” Patton flexed his fingers and worked his jaw, as if he could capture and chew the thoughts in his head and spit them out as the exact word he needed, “It's grumpy!”
That brought a small smile to Logan's face. There was his silly friend, shining through the angry haze. “It’s grumpy?” He questioned.
“Yeah! It's grumpy!” Patton answered, turning to Logan for a moment, “it buckles when I turn and the horn is going bad and the air conditioner doesn't work and the steering doesn't move like I want it to. It's a grumpy car!” He stomped with an air of finality and turned back to his tea.
Logan shook his head fondly. “Alright then. What exactly do you mean by 'buckles when you turn’?”
“It just…” Patton sighed and paused a moment, setting his hands on the counter but leaning back a bit. “I go to make a turn and the wheels swerve before it starts going, or it does that in the middle of a turn and it's….” He trailed off and began fiddling with a packet of sweetener.
Logan pressed, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer, “it's what?”
Patton flicked the packet a few more times before answering, quietly, almost meekly. “It's scary.”
Logan quietly pushed his book aside and stood, moving to circle his arms around Patton's waist from behind. He knew that his housemate found deep comfort in physical gestures, and that was something that Logan was always ready to provide, even if it wasn't something that he himself enjoyed.
“I was turning left when I… when it happened. And it feels like this new car just knows that somehow. It only happens on left turns. And there's always another car coming at me and I-” Patton’s voice became thicker as he tried not to cry. Logan held his waist a bit tighter, and Patton leaned into him, letting his head rest against Logan's just lightly.
“You know, most would not have even begun driving as quickly as you did. You were behind the wheel again not two weeks after the accident. You must remember to account for the fact that this is still a wound you are trying to heal.” Logan said softly.
Patton set the packet down and tapped his fingers on the countertop. A few tears dripped down from his eyes as his emotions overwhelmed him. “I know that. I just- every time it happens all I can think about is the noise and the spinning and I was so stupid to make the turn in the first place and-”
“No. We talked about this.” Logan fully snaked his arms around Patton's waist, giving him a slightly backwards but otherwise full hug. “You were as careful as you could have been under the given conditions. No one was hurt. This is the first time you had been in an accident and it was a relatively traumatizing experience. But you cannot speak so negatively of something that happened that was an accident.” His voice was firm but not harsh. He felt Patton shudder a bit as the man began to fully cry, and he gently turned him to give him a more conventional (and more comforting) hug.
“I just want to go back. Before it happened. Just go home and not get dinner. Not turn off the street. Anything.” Patton’s crying was slowly soaking into Logan's shirt as he held his friend. This was not the first time this conversation had been had, but it had certainly been a while since the last.
Logan hummed lightly and rocked his friend slightly on the balls of his feet. He let Patton cry; the best way to allow the other time to calm down.
“I know that. But we live time as a linear journey. We cannot go back and change things. And I know that this has been a difficult experience, between the costs of a new, albeit previously owned, vehicle, and trying to balance your time at work and other obligations.” Logan searched for a while for the right words, continuing to hum as he thought.
“You are unaccountably brave to have pushed yourself into driving so soon after the accident. And I think now that decision and the stress it carries is beginning to catch up with you. But you have to keep in mind that you are still allowed to be upset, and uncomfortable, and anything else. What is it that you always tell Virgil?” Logan smirked as he tipped his head down to look at the man curled into his chest.
Patton sniffled but a tiny smile broke through as he rubbed tears away from under his glasses. “Feeling things makes a person a person. And you have to let yourself feel things to be healthy.” He said softly.
“Exactly.” Logan said gently. “Therefore, it is only logical that you follow your own line of thinking and give yourself the time to experience and release your emotions. And then you will heal, and things will be easier, yes?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Patton said softly. He sniffled again, and Logan semi-proudly noted that the crying had all but stopped.
They stayed that way for a while, until the teapot began to whistle and the oven’s timer chimed. Patton squeezed around the base of Logan's chest in a tight hug of thanks, and pressed his face into Logan's chest plate for a brief moment before turning to quiet the 'angry pot’ as he called it. Logan moved to grab his oven mitts and pull their dinner from the oven, as the pair heard their garage door opening once again, signaling the return home of their other housemates.
“Logan?” Patton asked, in their few remaining minutes of silence.
“Hm?”
“I think I need to put stickers on the new car. Maybe it's just upset because it doesn't have any.”
Logan smiled broadly at his curious, confusing, and bubbly housemate, shaking his head at the sudden turn in thought. He pulled dinner from the oven and set it aside as the others walked in, and their cozy home was once again filled and smiling.
“Of course, that must be it.”
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