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#struggling to breathe
sasuga-whump · 2 months
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Whump list: MARS~ただ、君を愛してる~ ・MARS - Tada, Kimi wo Aishiteru
This list features the drama and movie!
Genre: High School setting, Psychological, Plot twist
Whump themes: trauma, fighting and injuries, defiant whumpee, obsessive whumper/whumpee, whumper becomes whumpee, villain whumpee
Summary: Set in a high school, Rei is an outgoing playboy with a frightening violent side from his troubled past. Kirishima, another student at the school, has a connection to Rei's violent past and enters Rei's life to try to force Rei to return to the person he used to be.
Whumpees:
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Kirishima
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Rei
The List:
Drama
Ep 4:
Rei - found unconscious ... ambushed, in a fight, distracted, gets beaten up, weak, concerned loved one ... "what happened to your face" ... struggling to breathe, panic attack, collapsed, concern for him, barely conscious, cradled
Ep 5:
Rei - in hospital bed ... angry, threatens assailant with a knife ... slapped
Kirishima - concerned for Rei ... threatened with a knife, "if you think you can do it then stab me", saved by Rei
Ep 6:
Rei - saves someone from being ran over, injures his arm, bloody hand
Ep 7:
Rei - bandaged arm ... recalling traumatic memories, head pain, struggling to breathe, concerned caretakers, hyperventilating, collapses into Kirishima's arms, comforted, intense panic attack
Ep 8
Rei - in bed, feverish, concerned caretaker, "I'm okay", taken care of, emotional anguish, crying
Movie
16:40 - Rei is slapped
24:10 - Rei is in a fight
35:30 - Rei is ambushed, repeatedly punched, kicked, saved by Kirishima, concern for him
55:07 - Kirishima is manhandled, thrown to the ground, "hit me", punched in the face, falls to the ground, choked, struggling to breathe, defiant, smiling, saved from being strangled, coughing, laughing hysterically, breathing heavily, stumbling and coughing
1:10:30 - Kirishima is bitten on the hand, wincing in pain
1:11:03 - Kirishima is punched, falls to ground, repeatedly kicked and punched, bloody face, crying, punched to the ground
1:13:25 - Rei is slashed with a knife
1:17:05 - Rei has his injury treated, wincing
1:25:05 - Rei is stabbed, doesn't tell his lover, collapses on her shoulder, falls unconscious, lover sees his stab wound, bleeding heavily
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whumpygifs · 10 months
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kalevalakryze · 9 months
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Closing In
Warnings: panic attacks, mentions of anxiety, ptsd, claustrophobia
Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, The Armorer, Ragnar Vizsla(mentioned)
Relationships: Bo-Katan Kryze/The Armorer
Notes: this definitely wasn’t meant to turn out like this, but my brain started to spin the idea and I just let it roll. It also, definitely wasn’t supposed to be so long. But I also missed writing for these two, and I’m trying to get back into the groove.
I started writing this wide awake, and by the time I got to the end I was falling asleep , so I apologize for any spelling errors
Ever since she was a child, Bo-Katan Kryze had trained her mind and body to handle nearly every situation with a cool head, could face some of the most gruesome scenes on a battlefield and walk away just fine, because she was strong, because she put years into developing a resistance to the world she found herself in. When in immediate danger, she could force her brain to analyze quickly before acting, the ‘fight or flight’ many had talked about around her had been unheard of.
But despite all her strength, the circumstances changed, and no amount of training could have prepared her for the way her body would start to react, how her fight mode would click over to freeze, and she hated it.
The panic hadn’t really hit her until she found herself alone on Kalevala, where the droid she’d kept around was the only one to help pull her out, when her fingers would clench around the arm of the throne and her teeth would grind together as she tried to rile up enough anger to phase out the feeling of dying, until she was angry enough at anything and everything to force her body to start moving again.
She’d thought that things would be better, after reclaiming Mandalore, that the walls that moved in time with her racing heart would stop, that her body could finally relax because she was safe, Mandalore was home again, but her brain and body seemed reluctant to acknowledge this.
Bo had been lucky enough that these ‘attacks’ never happened around others, where she could drop to the ground in her own ship or her own quarters, and try to claw the demonic bastard out of her. And where she would often lay frozen for hours until the rustle or mandalorian’s waking in the mornings pulled her out, forced her to prepare for the day, sleep be damned, she was the Mand’alor.
And it had stayed like that for some time, leaving the woman content with the new schedule (as comfortable as she could be, trying to find sleep in nights full of panic and grief), had figured out how to balance each attack and work her schedule to accommodate her alone time in those hours, until… she couldn’t. Until she wasn’t alone anymore.
The Armorer had called her to the Great Forge, a place the woman had not been in some time. And at first, it had been fine, because the younglings wanted to show her their work, and the apprentices under The Armorer’s command were excited to talk about their progress, and it was just so much easier to cloud the rising anxiety, to focus on their helmets or faces instead of the way the rock formations along the walls had started to breathe in sync with her.
Until the apprentices and younglings had departed for their dinner, until The Armorer was leading her further into the winding tunnels, to a room that had been furnished into an armory. The Armorer was talking, and attempting to show her a piece they’d finished, trying to show her the Beskar Plate that had been furnished by a young Ragnar, who’d lain the Kryze insignia into the metal and had painted it a combination of silver, teal, and black.
She didn’t notice the piece of armor that had been crafted for her though, the only thoughts she could entertain were the certainty that she was going to die here, the walls closed tighter around her with every breath, tagged in her throat and leaving her mouth dry. The Armorer was in front of her then, and she could assume from the distant timbre that something was being said, but she couldn’t, just couldn’t breathe!
The Mand’alor dropped to her knees, gloved fingers digging into the iron heart in her armor, pulling at the pieces that seemed too tight, too constricting, she just needed room, but everything was closing in, and she could barely see The Armorer right in front of her, but her skin prickled like fire under the heavy hand that rested against her back.
“Off, off,” she gasped finally, her armor starting to separate from the leather buckles that held it in place as she focused every ounce of waning strength into forcing the piece off her chest, trying to find the room to breathe in the constricting space. “Off-“ she spoke again, voice nearing a pathetic sound that she would never forgive herself for making in front of another living being.
And oh maker, how was she ever going to look at The Armorer after this? Was she going to be immediately usurped for the blatant weakness? Would they just kill her then and be done with her? The thoughts did nothing to quell the bone deep ache, of the hammering of her heart that was certain she was going to die if the armor wasn’t gone.
The other woman was still for just a moment, hands hovering as Bo continued to claw at her own chest, forcing the metal to move from the liner that kept the chest plates combined over the flight suit. Then, deft fingers were releasing the straps, much easier than Bo was trying to get them off, the plates dropping to the ground with a sharp clang, the long plate from her back also clattering at the release, until her upper body was free and she could start to breathe again.
Finally able to gather some air through the filters of her helmet, Bo managed to reach her hand up and yank the helmet off of her own head, letting it drop to the ground just as disrespectfully as the chest plates, because she was going to die, the armor didn’t matter because there was no one to pass it down to.
The redhead’s cheeks were flushed, pupils blown wide as the pure and primal fear that had boiled in her veins started to simmer, as the fear of death was replaced by shame and embarrassment. She kept her eyes focused on the floor, on the way her muscles went rigid after she’d dropped, and on the way her chest expanded with every breath, free of the claustrophobia the metal on her chest had brought her.
Still, The Armorer did not leave her side, knelt down beside the Mand’alor like at prayer, though instead of her hands clasped in a steeple, the woman’s discarded helmet was held carefully in gloved hands.
They sat like that for minutes, the only sound the unrestricted noise of Bo’s labored breaths and the occasional shifting of what was left of her armor as she adjusted her weight on the floor. “Are you alright, Lady Bo-Katan?” The woman finally spoke, breaking the silence.
“I’m alright,” she answered too quickly, voice hoarse as she struggled to right herself, finally starting to push herself to get ready to stand when a hand had reached and stopped her ascent.
“Sit a moment, please,” and while she was asking, even at her worst, Bo follows the command, turning to sit beside The Armorer on the floor, the metal leg of the table pressing into her back as the other woman settled into an officially sitting position, Bo’s helmet held in her lap.
“If you’re trying to figure out how to tell me to get out, you can just say it, I can take it,” Bo spoke after several beats of silence. Even when that golden helmet turned again, and she could feel the eyes on her through the visor, she forced her gaze on the nearest wall in front of her, jaw tensing as her hands pulled into fists, preparing herself for it.
Again, a beat of silence, as The Armorer tried to process this. “Bo-Katan, Mandalore is your home, just as it is any other Mandalorians’. No one has any right to ask you to leave, unless it is of your own volition,”
The Mand’alor made like she was going to speak, but clamped her mouth shut when The Armorer spoke again. “We are a United people, stronger together, thanks to you, but even the strongest armor has it’s melting point, a weak spot. That is where the rest of the armor comes into play, to help protect that spot until it can be repaired,”
Her helmet was set down, and this time, she’d picked up Bo’s chest piece, claw marks pulling the paint away from the chrome around her iron heart, testament to her frantic scrambling. “You are not any less a Mandalorian because of this, nor any less the Mand’alor that has brought our people together at last.”
When the armor was set down once more, and a gloved hand moved to rest on Bo’s shoulder tentatively, the Mand’alor leaned into the strength provided, until her heated face was meeting the cool of red painted armor and the softness of the fur on her back.
“Together,” Bo echoed at last, as her legs tucked up close to her chest, as The Armorer’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, and the walls started to push out a bit, no longer as tight an constricting as they’d been feeling for weeks.
When she could finally take in slow and measured breaths again, and the last of the adrenaline burned from her body, Bo had finally stood, reaching to grasp an offered arm, bound in leather, to steady herself. “I apologize, for steering us so far away from our intended objective here,” she finally spoke as The Armorer picked up her discarded armor pieces and laid them against the table.
“The time is not important, as it will still be here when you are ready,” and then The Armorer was turning the piece so Bo could fully look at it. It was just the right breastplate, but it was clear that the craftsman took a great deal of time and effort into shaping the Beskar, inlaying clan Kryze’s crest into the metal, and from each paint stroke that colored the metal. She knew how important the colors of armor were to the children of the watch, how their paints were chosen carefully to express their duties to this life. The teal, a color she was seeing more and more in the Mandalorian’s that survived the purge symbolized healing, something Bo was certain they all needed a certain degree of.
The silver covered a large expanse of the plated piece, and while many could assume it plain, she was aware of the colors purpose, redemption, easy to paint to something new once a person redeemed themselves again.
Black paint lined the edges, close to where her scratched up iron heart would be if the piece had been complete. Justice, for Mandalore, for herself, for everything they’d been put through since the civil wars.
She had paused then, blinking at the piece, trying to figure out why her clan was emblazoned against the metal, and why The Armorer was presenting it early. “Ragnar created this piece, his first work, as a means to express the individuality and our combination as one people again. Your Owls seem too uniformed, and he’d hoped you would protect yourself with this Beskar, so the others would feel at ease changing their own pieces,” she explained, letting her glove trace the rim on the plate as Bo stared.
“Oh, they’re all allowed to change their armor, absolutely,” The warrior rubbed at her face, before finally reaching out with her hand. “And, I accept, if he, and you, are sure,”
Carefully, The Armorer removed the old breastplate from the fabric that kept them conjoined, and with a little work, the black marred beskar was replaced with the new, gleaming piece. “May I?” She asked finally, and Bo nodded her head slowly.
She was still rigid under The Armorer’s fingers, as the armor was pulled on over her flight suit once more, as she tried to expand her chest with each buckle done, preparing herself for the crushing feeling that would not come. When each piece of her armor had been reattached, Bo’s gaze was caught on the different colors against her chest, hand raising to trace against the many different colors.
“Thank you,” The Mand’alor spoke quietly, letting The Armorer linger behind her, and when strong arms started to wrap around her from behind, Bo let herself sink into the wert retreat, allowing herself to lean against The armored for strength as she focused her breathing, ensuring that unless she found herself in this position, her armor would not still be as compressed as it had been against her skin.
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Sliders 2x3 El Sid
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telemarcs · 6 months
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Having one of those days where idk why i exist
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jinxthefreak · 7 months
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the truth is never nice
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whumpetywhump · 5 months
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Bump Up Business - Ep. 5
Requested by @superwhumper06
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sasuga-whump · 2 months
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MARS - Tada, Kimi wo Aishiteru ep 4
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Rei has a panic attack
Full whump list for this drama can be found here
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rory my love . . that eren fic i just read . . sensational, outstanding, completely out of this world . . i am officially an eren fkr ! x_X
d-dilly.......
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i am so glad i could be of service 😩 & i'm so glad you like my work djdidnsjsnsjsnsj kicking my feet twirling my hair !!!!!
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hostiae · 5 months
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might play a little dbd, then i'll be on to get some writing done!
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catsforthewin · 8 months
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It's hard to open your eyes and see clearly when you're underwater. There is no escape. But at least you can't feel your tears.
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captain-flint · 8 months
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Crowley literally fighting for his life here looking like he's about to throw up and pass out trying to 'hold that thought'
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p4nishers · 4 months
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can't believe tom hiddleston ACTUALLY interrupted the interviewer to say "one last thing, i think mobius is loki's friend and i don't think loki has ever had a friend before" like king. i love how u felt the need to add that truly
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cowardlycowboys · 3 months
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