BLOODLINES: the owl house

stopped time, captured lights

hey guys welcome back to another episode of me projecting onto my neurodivergent headcanon comfort characters
i did this with amity last year so i'm doing it with amity again!! fun /s
trigger warning for self-harm/harmful stimming, panic attacks, nausea, and overstimulation
i didn't reread this before posting sorry shdjfgh

—

Amity woke up in a cold sweat. She was about to sit up when a sudden wave of nausea hit her. The thunder of the boiling rain storm booked outside, causing her hands to hit her thighs, body shivering and fighting back the urge to vomit. Still in a haze from her previous dream state, she wondered if she was dying. Maybe she was going to the human realm. Maybe she was being transported into a book. Maybe—

The thunder boomed again. Her hands reached to cover her ears, but even the slight movement would cause the nausea to come back. With a hitched breath, she once again slammed her hands into her legs. She felt frozen and suffocated in her own bed. Every sound and movement made her feel like hell. What was happening? She was fine when she went to sleep, so why now?

Amity whimpered, nails digging into her skin. Make it stop make it stop make it stop. She scratched, and somehow the horrible feelings went away. Before long, her entire leg was full of scratch marks and peeling skin. She couldn't even feel the pain, though; she was too focused on making the badness stop. Stop everything. Stop the thunder. Stop the nausea. Stop time.

Her eyes snapped up as a bolt of lightning struck outside her window. Her breath quickened, and as soon as the slightest amount of noise rang through the room, her arms shot up and hit the wall. Although her common sense was pretty much fucked by now, she still knew that hitting the wall was not an option. What if someone heard her? Sure, she could scratch at her bed, but she hated the sound of that — just thinking of the idea sent a shiver down her back. And that only left one option: flailing her arms in the air. Okay, maybe there were more options, but she still couldn't think of them; she was honestly half-asleep.

At some point, it stopped. She couldn't remember when, but it did. It all felt like a blur — did it even actually happen? Well, considering the marks and scars across her leg, yeah. Now, Amity lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She would have laughed at what happened if she had the energy to do so. Seriously? How stupid could that be — hitting and scratching anything she could get her hands on all to soothe nausea. Why was she even nauseous in the first place? The boiling rain? How did that even make sense? Whatever, it didn't matter. She was fine now. She was fine. It was over, there wasn't any more rain, and the scariness was gone. She could sleep in peace.

(She pulls all-nighters when there are thunderstorms now.)
(She has also found a new fondness for leggings!)

* 467 words (September 29, 2021)