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Literature Text
She was clutching his dark blue hoodie with fervor, as though the only thing keeping her body from bursting open from nerves was the ardor grip she kept on his physical being. She was still horribly distraught, even after the sobs of her brother had quieted down and he came to her room to hold her in his arms, gently caressing her cheeks to rid her of her tears while neglecting his own.
She didn’t understand. All she had done was come home fifteen minutes late. Her bus had gotten a late start from the school because one of the boys had decided to chance a suspension for a day of infamy by pulling the fire alarm during the last bell. It wasn’t like she had gone to play hooky or had gotten herself hurt.
So why was her brother gripping his head so hard that his fingertips were bloody when she got home? Why was he weeping and moaning utter gibberish? Why did he insist on continuing his unsettling back and forth rocking, even when she told him what happened and showed him that she was fine?
It frightened her. Her brother was her everything. He was always there to offer her warm tea in the morning when she didn’t want to move from her warm covers, he never failed to read her a bedtime story in his gentle monotone voice when she didn’t feel sleepy at night, and he always made sure to set the little table in her room just the way she liked it when it was time for a tea party.
He was the one that was supposed to remain absolute, resilient, unfazed. To ward away danger and fear. But he had broken down over something so little, something so inconsequential. He faced near-death experiences and moral dilemmas every day. What was the factor that made this instance so different?
She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. Try as she might, she didn’t understand her brother, and it seemed as though he didn’t quite understand himself either. So she sat there, eyes rimmed red and trembling all over, in her brother’s safe embrace. Their tears intermingled and dropped down together, forming puddles of uncertainty and despair.
She didn’t understand. All she had done was come home fifteen minutes late. Her bus had gotten a late start from the school because one of the boys had decided to chance a suspension for a day of infamy by pulling the fire alarm during the last bell. It wasn’t like she had gone to play hooky or had gotten herself hurt.
So why was her brother gripping his head so hard that his fingertips were bloody when she got home? Why was he weeping and moaning utter gibberish? Why did he insist on continuing his unsettling back and forth rocking, even when she told him what happened and showed him that she was fine?
It frightened her. Her brother was her everything. He was always there to offer her warm tea in the morning when she didn’t want to move from her warm covers, he never failed to read her a bedtime story in his gentle monotone voice when she didn’t feel sleepy at night, and he always made sure to set the little table in her room just the way she liked it when it was time for a tea party.
He was the one that was supposed to remain absolute, resilient, unfazed. To ward away danger and fear. But he had broken down over something so little, something so inconsequential. He faced near-death experiences and moral dilemmas every day. What was the factor that made this instance so different?
She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. Try as she might, she didn’t understand her brother, and it seemed as though he didn’t quite understand himself either. So she sat there, eyes rimmed red and trembling all over, in her brother’s safe embrace. Their tears intermingled and dropped down together, forming puddles of uncertainty and despair.
Literature
Why Wally's not allowed to have a cape
"Hey Rob, can I borrow your cape?"
The raven haired boy looked up from his holographic computer to see his best friend.
"Why do you want to do that? I thought it gets in the your way when you run." With one eyebrow raised he looked at his friend suspiciously. Wally always made fun of his cape, saying that it smelled weird (don't ask) and how it's going to get caught on something and make him a living piñata.
"Well yea, but who said anything about running with it?"
"
Touché." He took off his cape and handed it to the read headed boy, who happily put it on. "So what are you going to do with it?"
With one hand Wally pulled hi
Literature
Fear of Heights
Sherlock Holmes was five and he was not happy. His parents had taken him and Mycroft to a water park during the hottest month of the year. Now, normally, Sherlock would be overjoyed at the prospect of experimenting on water and seeing how the weather affected it. But the sun beat down mercilessly and he was extremely hot. Also, there was a red tinge on his normally pale skin. Sherlock knew it was the beginning of a sunburn and hated it. Mycroft, of course, had reacted well to the outing. Then again, Mycroft tended to react to things the same way a duck dealt with rain: everything just rolled off of him without even ruffling a feather.
&ldquo
Literature
The neverending nightmare
Ever since Wally West had acquired his super powers his parents had made sure to enjoy as many non-meta activities with him as possible. Perhaps this was why Barry Allen was surprised when Rudy West asked him to teach Kid Flash how to drive. But, if his nephew and sidekick- erm partner- needed his help, who was he to refuse?"
The second the teen's foot hit the accelerator, however, the Flash knew he had been given a raw deal.
1) Slippery when wet:
"Wally, No! When the road is wet, slow down around corners"
"Oh relax, the tires are built to griiiiiiip!...Uncle Barry."
"Yes Wally."
"I think I'm dead."
"Me too Kid."
2) Soft Shoulder:
"W
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I've only had two or three severe panic attacks in my lifetime.
Though it’s extremely scary and painful to experience a panic attack, I can’t imagine what it would be like for the person that has to try and understand what’s going on.
Especially if that person is 10 years old.
So I wrote a little drabble for Bluejay featuring R.J. and Raina. I feel like even though Raina loves R.J. with all her heart and sees him as being “her everything,” she still has a very hard time understanding his autism.
So she usually has to wait for Wesley to get home or she ends up crying herself when R.J. has a panic attack because she becomes frightened that he’s acting that way and that she doesn’t know how to stop it.
BlueJay (c) me
Though it’s extremely scary and painful to experience a panic attack, I can’t imagine what it would be like for the person that has to try and understand what’s going on.
Especially if that person is 10 years old.
So I wrote a little drabble for Bluejay featuring R.J. and Raina. I feel like even though Raina loves R.J. with all her heart and sees him as being “her everything,” she still has a very hard time understanding his autism.
So she usually has to wait for Wesley to get home or she ends up crying herself when R.J. has a panic attack because she becomes frightened that he’s acting that way and that she doesn’t know how to stop it.
BlueJay (c) me
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Ive never had anyone try to aproche or really help me in a breakdown and now i guess i get why. It sound scary to someone on the outside.