HOLY SHIT I THOUGHT OF THIS!!! ITS EXACTLY!

HOLY SHIT I THOUGHT OF THIS!!! ITS EXACTLY!

Cody Fern as Sauron

celebrimbor pointing out the imperfection in sauron's fabricated reality, as both of them match in skills as a creator. sauron can craft the most appealing illusion in the entire world, but celebrimbor will always sees right through the deception, due to sauron's need for order. the reality he crafted is perfect. too perfect. nothing in this world is perfect. the patterns of the mouse, and the candle is the flaw within his works. celebrimbor merely critiques it.

I wanted to share this for some time now…I had this typed up on my IPad…I made this back at the beginning of this year…literally…but a day before then I had a panic attack and so I made this Dagan Gera Imagine in return…In THIS story though is how I describe the panic attack that happened to ME so…please don’t take this the wrong way...

If you ever had any panic attacks though, we can relate!

But below, if you wanna read, is the Imagine:

You have a Panic Attack…but Dagan is there to help!

(KINDA SHORT!) (First Imagine of the Year!)

Rating: PG for…angst, dealing with panic attacks but very fluffy!

You wake up one morning to the sun rays hitting your face. You stretch yourself out as you look over to see Dagan was still resting beside you. He looked so peaceful! You can’t help but smile at the sight as you slowly get up from the bed without waking him as you get yourself dressed. You had entered the small lavatory when you felt a strong swell of nausea. It got stronger as your heart starts to pound within your chest. Uh oh, a panic attack is coming on! You lean your weight onto the counter to steady yourself as you start the breathing exercises Dagan had taught you during your meditation sessions with him but it wasn’t working.

You didn’t want to wake him but you had no choice. You slowly walked out of the lavatory as you stand there in the doorway, feeling your heart start to race even more. “Dagan? Dagan! Wake up!”, You call to him, seeing him sit up instantly as he looks over to you, his brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?”, He asked. You were unable to answer as you walk back inside the lavatory, leaning onto the counter to steady yourself again as you start to cry. Your breathing starts to quicken, your legs get wobbly, your hands start to tremble. This was a full blown panic attack!

You soon felt a strong arm wrap around your waist from behind…it was Dagan. He probably felt what you were going through–of course, by using his Force ability. “It’s okay…breathe deep breaths…I’m here…”, He whispers that into your ear as you listen to him, slowly taking in deep shaky breaths. Tears were already streaming down your face as Dagan reaches over to gently wipe some away. “Come on, deep breaths…follow my lead…”, You could feel his bare chest press up against your back, feeling it go up and down in a slow rhythm. You follow that rhythm, your heart rate starting to slow. “That’s it…you’re doing well…”, He whispers into your ear again, planting a gentle but feathery kiss to your neck as he attempts to comfort you further.

It was for a minute longer when you felt everything return back to normal. You swallow as you turn to face him, seeing his face full of worry. You quickly wipe away the rest of your tear-stained face as you meet his gaze. “How do you feel?”, He asks you, feeling his hand gently rub up and down on your arm as he continues to comfort you. You could only nod to answer him as you lean against the counter behind you, trying to take a small respite from what happened. You let out a shaky breath as Dagan wraps an arm around you, attempting to hug you. It took you a minute to realize what he was doing as you slowly hugged him back, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“You’re fine…you don’t have to suffer like this anymore…”, You hear him murmur those words as he gives your cheek a peck. After a moment of settling, Dagan leads you over to the bed and makes you lay down on it. He tucks you in as he tells you to rest up, leaning down to give you one last peck on the forehead. You watch him leave with his clothes to get ready in another room as you could feel the exhaustion from the attack start to slowly creep up on you. Your eyes get heavy as you close them, feeling yourself drift off into slumber, hoping to sleep off the weariness from this attack so you can start the healing process.

The End!

If you enjoyed, I thank you!

The stare in Mickey's eyes when he has the gun pointed at his OWN Father...

(Fyi I am ALMOST done with this show!)

Hey Dagan, they made a figurine of you! How do you feel about it?

They made a...what?

As Long As It Takes

Masterlist

AO3 link

Rating: Mature 

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, soft Silco, depression, grief, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort

Word count: 705

Beta Readers: none. we die like my will to do anything

Silco notices that you've been off. He comes to quietly reassure you as you rest.

A/N: Sorry for the absence. Let's just say the reader in this one-shot is semi-autobiographical. This one's short enough that I'm just going to post the whole thing here.

You've been sleeping a lot more.

You tell yourself it's just from overworking. That it's natural for you to sleep more when you're this drained. You're working longer, harder hours.

But you know that isn't it.

You nap more frequently, for longer periods of time.

You go to bed sooner.

Wake up later.

It's becoming a pattern.

And despite your best efforts to hide it, Silco—your partner—has noticed.

You're in his room, on his bed. The bed you've shared together since you started seeing each other. You still have your own apartment, but you stay at The Last Drop more often than not. 

This is where he finds you, laying on your side, your back to the door.

You hear the soft creak of the door’s hinges before a gentle, booted footstep. Then, another step before the door closes.

Silco says your name, voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake you if you're still asleep.

Your fingers cling to the pillow as you close your eyes, pretending to sleep. 

There's more footsteps as your partner makes his way around the bed, followed by the mattress groaning as he sits. You feel his weight sinking the bed next to you and keep your eyes closed.

Gently, he places his palm on your hip before letting out a deep exhale. 

“I won't pretend to know exactly what's going on,” he starts, “Nor that I have all the answers.”

You keep your eyes closed, focusing on his voice.

“But I know something is wrong,” he continues. “Don't think I haven't noticed—the way you retreat here immediately after your shift. The way you've stopped going out.”

He lets out another sigh. When he speaks, his voice seems a little further away, like he's turned his face away from you to look at the wall.

“I could lie to you: tell you it'll get better. But the truth is… sometimes it doesn't.”

Your lips pinch into a line as you feel a familiar sting growing behind your eyes. 

“It never really goes away. Grief. Depression. We don't… conquer it, so much as learn to live with it.”

You hear him shift and feel his gaze on your face without seeing it. 

“But just know—you don't have to go through this alone. I'll be here to listen when you're ready.”

The both of you stay like this for a moment. You, laying on your side, eyes resolutely shut. Silco, with his hand resting on your hip, mismatched eyes tracking across your face.

After a beat, the mattress squeaks as his weight leaves it. You feel his hand start to leave you and, in an instant, give yourself away as you grab his wrist.

He gives a small startled sound and you turn to look up at him.

“Please don't go,” you whisper, a tear forcing its way past your defenses. “Please stay.”

He looks at you with gentle eyes and gives you a small nod before sitting back down. As he does, both your hands move, fingers lacing together.

Your throat bobs and your eyes turn down, looking at the sheets to avoid his gaze.

“I'm not ready.”

When you dare look up at him, he answers by simply shaking his head.

“It's okay.” 

He leans down and brings his scarred lips to your temple. You melt a little into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the warm contact. When he pulls away, it's a mere inch, his breath still in your hair as he whispers.

“I'll wait as long as it takes.”

You pinch your lips together, eyes still closed tight as you nod. 

At that, Silco shifts to move behind you. He maneuvers his way under the sheets, his arm wrapping around your waist. You feel him slot himself behind you, his chest pressed into your back as his legs perfectly fit behind yours. You cling to his arm, pulling him closer. 

He buries his face in your neck, taking in a deep breath before kissing you gently there.

And as you both drift off to sleep, you feel just a little bit more hopeful.

Maybe tomorrow will be a little bit better.

How bad could it really be?

When you have Silco?

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