hello! could you do one of these? power fatigue or hyperventilation with five please? thank you!
Answer:
BTHB — hyperventilation with Five
The house collapsed. Caving in on itself from the roof to the foundation and Five did nothing but stand there as his family was buried alive. There was no time to run inside before the building fell; Five himself barely had a warning and was only able to stumble backwards as he watched on in horror. Deafening sounds of cracking and breaking wrapped itself around Five’s head and he heard nothing else.
The burst of air and dust and debris that radiated outwards from the house sent him falling backwards, struggling for purchase on the gravel but to no avail. He fell on his back, the air knocked out of his lungs and he coughed until his eyes filled with tears and his throat burned.
There was a ringing in his ears not unlike static. His mind went blank at the carnage that lay before him.
Why couldn’t he have done better? Why couldn’t Five have gotten them to safety before the house fell? It was Five who traced the lead to this spot; it was Five who told them the suspect was inside.
Intrusive thoughts permeated and wrapped themselves around the reality he was seeing. They threatened to bring Five back to the first apocalypse; those thoughts wanted to show Five that they were in control and he was at their mercy.
It’s happening again. I’m in the apocalypse. The nightmares that kept Five up at night, that haunted his mind, were coming true. He started to believe that the scene in front of him was a figment of his imagination and the smoke…the smoke resembled the fires so vividly.
But the pain in his hands from the glass scattered on the ground brought him back down to earth. He made a mental note to remove those fragments of debris from his skin as soon as possible.
Pushing up on his feet, Five ran towards the house, only getting so close before the fires and flames stopped him. Panting and struggling to breath, he braced his hands on his knees. He tried to think of a plan, he tried to think of a way to get into the building. He tried —
A thunderous crashing sound cut off his scheming. The part of the roof that had remained partly standing was now completely decimated. The entirety of the structure was parallel to the ground, flat and unmoving.
He couldn’t save them. They were gone — dead, or dying, but completely gone and there was nothing Five could do about it. His siblings were trapped.
He sat down, hugging his knees close to his body, feeling like the young thirteen year old he had been during those first few months, years, in the apocalypse. Helpless in the face of hopelessness.
His breath became rapid in his chest. The normal cadence of breathing was amplified, ragged breaths dragged themselves through his lungs. In some rational, logical part of his brain, he knew he was hyperventilating. Everything he had been taught about breathing and keeping calm during the face of tragedy was gone.
The anxiety and fear Five had felt for years was catching up to him. His family — his siblings; how many times now had Five watch them die while he did nothing? Five gripped his hair in desperation, knees still pulled up to his chest while he sat there in shock.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe.
They were dead.
“Five! Five! You need to take a breath.” A hand pressed his head down to rest on his knees, gently squeezing the back of his neck.
Talking was going on above him, the exchange of voices was a rhythmic rise and fall. Tension; yelling, whispering, too loud and too soft.
“He’s hyperventilating.” Someone stated.
“Yeah, no shit.” A third voice retorted.
He still couldn’t breathe. Ragged noises escaped him at the lack of air. Despite being outside, in the middle of the street, Five felt there would never be enough oxygen; he was sitting down but he was dizzy and disoriented.
Another hand on his arm. Another whisper saying everything was okay.
And Five began to think and compartmentalize what he heard and felt and understood. A hand on his back. The pressure at the base of his neck was grounding. Murmured voices were telling him this is real, this is real, this is real. But the voice in his head was convincing him otherwise.
“You’re not real. You’re…you’re dead.” The word was ripped from his body, said with such grief that he didn’t recognize his own voice.
Silence.
“How many times did he see us die? Twice?” That was Vanya, a subconscious part of Five’s brain noted.
“Does he think we died? Oh.”
Someone was next to him now, kneeling with a hand placed on his arm. “Five? Five, we’re alive. We’re all here. None of us were in the house.”
“Diego warned us about the bomb. We got out, we escaped. We’re all alive, Five.” They were all around him now. Five blinked through the tears, raising his head just barely to see they had sat down in the dirt and debris with him.
They hadn’t left. They hadn’t died. They were all right here. Without consciously realizing it, he was beginning to breathe slower, calmer. The rattling in his chest ceased and air was returning to him.
“Allison?” Five’s voice sounded weak, small, even to himself. “Klaus?”
He finally dragged his head up from where it had been resting on his knees. Five could only imagine how he looked, puffy eyes and tear tracks down his face. It would only take a second to close his eyes against the looks on his siblings’ faces, but for once, Five let the feeling of relief wash over him.
“Yeah, Five, we didn’t die.” Allison said, squeezing his hand. Five could see the terror in her eyes slowly receding.
“You bet I’d haunt you, if you got me killed.” Klaus said and a breathy chuckle full of relief, of reality, came from Five.
miss piggy puts up with so much as a woman in show business and her response to misogyny is never to turn the other cheek or take the high road. it’s to physically attack people. and she’s right.
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bowtrucklefarmer25.02.2021 - 7 hours ago
bowtrucklefarmer23.02.2021 - 1 day ago![sarcasmprodigy:
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bowtrucklefarmer22.02.2021 - 2 days ago
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