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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 7 months

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Day 8 - Panic Attacks/Dissociation

Just a sequel to yesterday's piece!

Pinglist: @ailesswhumptober, @whumperofworlds, @whump-captain

TWs: suffocation, panic attacks, hospital setting, dissociation, needle mention

Everything after going into the training room with Luis was a blur. Mariano vaguely knew that something had happened. He couldn't remember what it had been exactly, but Luis had been casting and there had been water over his face and in his mouth and down his throat and shouting and his chest hurting and--

And then he was being toweled off and people were asking him questions that he didn't have the answers for or the voice to communicate that fact. Mariano hadn't even realized that Luis had been holding him until they'd taken his arms and unwound them from Luis' neck. "Let us listen to your lungs, Mariano." They had said, as other voices drifted around him.

Mariano let them. Luis had sounded upset. So had the doctor.

He was so exhausted.

There was a hard table and voices telling him to be still. They draped heavy blankets over him, and Mariano thought he heard them explaining something about lead and protection. None of it stuck. He looked up through heavy lashes and smudged lenses and listened to the beeps of some machine.

He was moved again to something soft, electricity coursing through his ribs with any movement and drawing hitching noises from him. There were more voices and Luis was holding his hand, then. Luis' voice was grounding, it settled something in Mariano.

He'd dozed, being snapped awake every time by more voices and hands and people talking more urgently.

"Deeper breaths." They said, and Mariano tried, even as it felt like he'd run a marathon after a hypoxia test. "Eyes on us. We need you to stay awake a little longer." He tried to obey as they fitted an oxygen mask to his face, and Luis tried to explain that he'd been up all night so he might be pretty tired.

No one seemed to listen to Luis. Distantly, Mariano thought it was strange. He didn't know where Luis went after that.

The night had crept into early, early morning by the time everything had settled down. As the midnight blue started to morph into deep red, Mariano's clumsy fingers tugged the blankets up to his shoulders. With no more oxygen mask and only some wires to worry about, he was almost comfortable. The nurse attending him, Roberto, finished checking the monitors at his bedside before turning to him.

"If you need anything, press the call button on the side of your bed here and someone'll be here in less than a minute. Get some sleep, we'll check on you in a bit."

Mariano nodded, taking his glasses off again. He settled back against his pillow, feeling like his body was impossibly heavy. Finally, after ages, he was warm and dry and allowed to rest. He closed his eyes and was asleep before Roberto even had a chance to dim the lights in his room.

By the time Mariano opened his eyes again, the sun was high in the sky. Afternoon light streamed into his room, and he was aching and drowsier than he thought he'd ever been. He knew something had happened, something with Luis. He remembered not being able to breathe.

It was still sort of hard to breathe, Mariano realized. It felt like he'd caught an awful chest cold, a crackling wheeze filling the air. Did he get sick? It was hard to keep his eyes open. Whatever he'd caught must've really taken the energy out of him.

His eyes drifted closed again, the exhaustion dragging him back under.

It was even later, with the orange glow of early evening painting his stark-white walls, when he realized he couldn't breathe. He opened his eyes again to the feeling of his own hand gripping his chest. The fabric of his hospital gown and the blankets were bunched up in his fist, and his lungs felt like someone had filled them with lead.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. Where was he? Someone had told him something earlier. They'd said something about what to do if he needed something. Mariano's chest caught on an exhale, and before he could try to breathe through the urge to cough it ripped through him.

He curled in as the fit took him, wheezing and long. Stars exploded behind his eyelids as electricity ripped through him. He felt his ribs screaming with every cough, and all he could do was clutch at his side with one arm and cover his mouth with his other hand.

All at once it felt like he was back on the training room floor--was that where he'd been before?--but there was no Manuel to grab for, no Luis to hold onto. His head spun as his thoughts disappeared into a terrible buzz. Something rushed up his throat as the coughing fit threatened to strangle him. Pink foam spattered into his palm as he struggled to draw in a panicked breath. He needed someone--anyone.

He was going to die here.

He didn't want to die here.

His clean hand reached out and started fumbling along the side of his bed. There had to be a button, it felt like there had to be something. Just as he was starting to lose hope, thinking that he'd imagined the man telling him to hit a button for help, his fingertips pressed something down with a click.

Another wave of coughing pulled both of Mariano's hands to his mouth as he tried to keep the awful pink slime from dripping onto the white sheets. Just as Mariano felt it start to pass, he heard the door open. "Good afternoon--oh!"

That voice was familiar, and in a moment there were two hands on him. One on his shoulder, the other at his hip, and he heard them muttering to themself. "I'm going to call for some backup, keep breathing for me, Mister Ortiz."

The request was easier said than done, and Mariano only dimly heard them hurry to the phone on the wall and page for some names. It felt like hours before more people showed up, as Mariano's hands were gently pulled away from his face and wiped off. He panted against his pillow, shallow and rattling as voices and shadows swam above him.

"He was the drowning case from last night, has to be pulmonary edema."

"Are you sure?"

"Look at him, you can hear his breathing from the door, and that sputum never lies. Why wasn't his O2 being monitored? Who was doing rounds?"

"I'm not sure, I'd have to check with first shift--"

"Get a line started. Push a diuretic, and...yeah, some morphine. That heart rate needs to come down. Get him on some oxygen too."

"You'll feel an ant bite, aaaand there, don't mess with that."

"Alright, a rush of cold, then you'll have something in you to help you feel better."

"Should I adjust the bed...?"

"Yes, just sit him up a little, it'll help him breathe--"

"Seems to be losing--"

"That's--O2 is--"

"--Like that, Ortiz--"

"Mister Ortiz--"

"Ortiz!"

"Mariano Ortiz if you don't start breathing right fucking now, I'm going to--"

Mariano opened his eyes.

It was dark and quiet.

Luis was at his bedside. His face was drawn, the natural angles sharpened by the harsh moonlight that spilled in. He had one of Mariano's hands in both of his. His thumbs were feather-light along the back of Mariano's hand.

"You scared us there, Marito."

Mariano's throat felt like it was on fire. "M'sorry." He muttered through the oxygen mask, his voice sounding like a gate that hadn't been oiled in a century.

"Shh." Luis didn't have any real fire behind the shush. "Don't talk. Your body has been through a lot so you need to conserve your energy." His hands squeezed Mariano's as he looked across the room and out the window.

"I...wanted to apologize for the accident." Luis said, not looking at Mariano. "It won't happen again."

Mariano squeezed Luis' hand back. If he saw Luis wipe at his eyes with one hand, he wouldn't say anything. Luis didn't look back down at him, even as that hand slid into Mariano's hair.

"Sleep, Marito." Luis' voice was soft as he pressed his forehead to the back of Mariano's hand. "You're safe. Sleep."

Mariano closed his eyes again. He didn't let go of Luis' hand. He didn't dream.

#whump #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday8 #day 8 #panic attacks #dissociation #hospital setting #needle mention #suffocation #medical mistake #mage of violence #the leader

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whumpeewhumpwhump · 7 months

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(AI-less) Whumptober Day 8: Siezure

(I had no idea what to do for this one, but I found some inspo and came up with something short. Hope you enjoy nonetheless!)

Prompt 7: Seizure

Caretaker didn’t know what to do. They kneeled above Whumpee, their hands hovering over Whumpee’s body as they convulsed. Whumper had given them something and almost immediately, Whumpee was on the ground, seizing. Caretaker had caught them before they fell to the ground and gently laid them down. They watched as Whumpee’s body seemed to relax for a moment. Fear filled their eyes as they looked up to Caretaker. Tears welled in Caretaker’s. There was nothing they could do. All they could do was ride it out.

Again, Whumpee seized. A horrible, choking sound came from them as it happened again. Caretaker moved so Whumpee was leaning against them. Caretaker held Whumpee in an embrace as it happened, trying their best to keep them comfortable. All they could do was whisper words of comfort to Whumpee.

They talked about their life before this. Before they had taken this job. Before Whumper had them arrested. Before Whumper decided to torment both of them personally.

At first, they spoke of the forest both Caretaker and Whumpee played in when they were young. The adventures they pretended to go on. The enemies they pretended to face. Caretaker then spoke of the nights after the forest. When they’d go back to Caretaker’s home or Whumpee’s, where their families would have dinner or lunch ready for them. Where Caretaker’s grandmother would ask who they faced that day. Or when Whumpee’s father helped them make songs of their heroics.

Caretaker found themselves humming one of the songs. It was a simple melody with child-like lyrics—not something to elicit emotions, but tears started to flow freely nonetheless. Caretaker wept as they held Whumpee, singing about two children defeating a dragon named Clide.

All the while, Whumpee seized. Whatever Whumper had given them wasn’t fatal—at least not yet. All Caretaker could do was hope Whumpee would survive this. Hope that they’d both survive.

Just so they could go back to the forest again. And play pretend.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump #ailesswhumptoberday8 #short and sweet this time around #inspo from robin hobb series assassin's apprentice #bad poison causes main character to have siezures #good whump

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lilac-gold · 7 months

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Panic Attacks

AI-less Whumptober: Day 8 Panic attacks | Dissociation | Seizure @ailesswhumptober

Fandom: OMORI Rating: Teen Word Count: 1456 Summary: Aubrey deals with things using anger. She can control that, but the panic rushing through her is a different matter entirely. AO3 LINK

Aubrey was a failure. To her mom, to her dad, to her friends, to Mari. To herself. She was always going to end up alone, and she knew that now. The notion had stopped bothering her a long time ago, once it became apparent that she was unloveable. Most of the time, Aubrey tried to keep herself from feeling anything that wasn’t anger, for anger was something she could control. At least then, she could choose who she drove away, have some weak semblance of control over her pathetic life. Aubrey was pathetic. Aubrey was a failure.

And there was nothing she could do to change that.

She’d tried, of course, both before and after Mari died. Her parents had never loved her, making it clear she was a mistake. Why they kept her around, Aubrey had no idea, but they made it abundantly clear that she was a burden every time she ate or grew out of her clothes. Food and clothes were expensive, so she was given little food and clothes five sizes too big. She longed for the grand toys and meals that her friends received regularly, Mr Plantegg her only solace in that regard. He’d been a gift from Kel one year, who had thought it was a funny reference to her name. Aubrey had argued with him for hours that day, but they both knew she was grateful really.

She didn’t know it, though. She never did. Relaxed ‘thank you’s weren’t enough, and rightly so. Aubrey was lazy, and rude. She didn’t appreciate anything that other people did for her. They didn’t have to put up with her. She should have enjoyed the times they still did while they lasted.

Mari and Hero had always been role models to her, Aubrey the little sister they never asked for. Since Sunny, Kel and later Basil were all boys, Aubrey had no-one to do typical girl stuff with. She tried with Basil, but he looked uncomfortable enough when she did that she quickly stopped. Forcing her interests on him had been a bad idea. Basil liked dirt and nature, not sparkles and plastic.

Mari had. Mari liked dressing up with Aubrey, wearing pretty dresses and painting her nails every colour of the rainbow. They’d planned to dye their hair together, Mari purple, Aubrey pink. Aubrey had always loved pink. It was soft but bright, feminine but loud. She ended up colouring her hair pink after all. She did so alone.

Mari’s death was more than a slap to the face. It was a stab in her stomach, the air forced out of her as blood quickly seeped through her skin. Mari was perfect. Mari couldn’t die. Mari couldn’t have killed herself.

But she had, and she did, and Aubrey was left alone. Mari had liked her. Kel hadn’t. Sunny could barely talk to her without going red with shame. Hero had put up with having to treat her like a sister for too long. Basil was scared of her bat and her scowl. When Mari died, it was only natural that they’d leave her. Aubrey should have expected it, really. It still felt like the knife within her was twisting deeper.

She was manipulative, at first. She did everything she could to convince Basil to hang out with her, from pulling the pity card to forcing tears that came easily. He obliged, as he always did, because Basil wasn’t strong as her, and Aubrey used that to her advantage far too often. She was bossy and commanding, and Basil was not. Basil was all alone too.

She’d hoped they could stick together, that he wouldn’t give her the deserved isolation the others had. She’d been a coward and a fool, and when she’d seen the photo album, she’d screamed at him. When she was with her friends, Aubrey felt happy. She didn’t have friends anymore, and had just pushed her last one away forever.

For a while after that, Aubrey had tried to be perfect, to live up to Mari’s effortless excellence in her absence. Aubrey had tried to fill a role that was too good for her, and inevitably failed. Because Aubrey wasn’t wise and kind and sweet and gentle and soft. Aubrey was reckless and rude and overbearing and rough. Aubrey carried around a bat. Aubrey snapped at people too easily. Aubrey’s parents hated her. Aubrey let her emotions get the better of her.

She was lazy, giving up on her goal of perfection after a mere couple of weeks. It was of no use. The teachers and students still hated her, her grades were still average, her attempts to play the piano uncertain and riddled with mistakes. Aubrey was a failure.

Once she realised that she would never be perfect, that she was far too broken to ever be as good as Mari was, she gave up on sweetness. No more smiles, no more manners, no more compliments. It didn’t make a difference. Everyone would hate her either way.

Months passed, and the misery she felt at being abandoned slowly turned to resentment, then to fury. Fury was powerful, strong, able to be wielded like a weapon. Fury could intimidate, threatening in its unstoppable, blazing heat. Aubrey much preferred fury to the sadness, or the emptiness, or the panic.

Whenever her mom screamed at her, Aubrey sat there and took it. Nothing she said would change her mom’s course, and usually, the shouting was deserved. Aubrey was a failure, after all. She knew when she’d messed up, but she was too lazy to fix it and too proud to obey.

She would rather her mom just hit her than yell as she did, because at least then, it was over quickly. Then, the pain was physical, something she could ground herself with, the sting reminding her that she was still there, still alive, still surviving even though some days, she didn’t want to anymore.

When she was shouted at, insulted, it gave the poison in her mind food. The toxins grew more potent by the minute, Aubrey’s mind spiralling like a kaleidoscope, only the pictures within her brain were far less pretty. Words echoed through her brain, Aubrey spitefully adding her own additions as she hissed hatefully at her reflection, reminding herself of what a failure she was. It was no wonder her dad left, her friends left, her mom stayed far away. Who would possibly love someone like her?

During the rants, Aubrey stayed stock still, numbness washing over her. She didn’t jump or feel her heartbeat pick up anymore at the raised volume, too used to it to care. She wished her mom wouldn’t shout as much, but that was just a futile pipe dream. She simply dug her nails into her arm in a hopeless attempt to distract herself, listening with a sort of detached apathy and agreeing with no emotion. Then, she was alone, and the tears began to fall.

Panic swelled in her chest, and Aubrey hated panic because it was uncontrollable, all-consuming, everywhere. It made her feel more alone than ever, her heart thrumming quickly to a beat only she could hear, darkness threatening to envelop her as pure terror enclosed her tightly in its hold. She felt like she was dying, unable to breathe as her bones shook uncontrollably, grinding against each other inside of her. It took forever for the panic to subside, and all Aubrey could do was wait. Sometimes, once the panic finally dimmed enough that she could breathe again, she fell asleep, clutching Mr Plantegg to her chest like a baby. Cold sweat drenched her skin, clothes sticking to her uncomfortably as her body was overrun by shivers that made her gut churn. Alarm still blared distantly in her brain as she collapsed, feeling like she’d run a marathon every time even though she’d done nothing but sit and stare into the distance. It was pathetic. She needed to do better.

Occasionally, she had them at school. When that happened, she locked herself in the toilets, and everyone just assumed she was skipping. Aubrey gained a reputation as a hooligan, her newly dyed hair and fierce blue-eyed glare painting a fierce picture. People stayed away from her because she looked angry. Aubrey was angry. But if they knew how panicked she got at times, they’d know how weak she was, and then the loneliness would multiply. She’d be mocked, humiliated, estranged further from everyone and losing the little dignity she had left. She had a reputation to uphold. So she masked any fear with rage, twisting every unwanted emotion she could into bitter fury. Powerful. Controllable. Active. Feared. Hated. Disappointing.

Aubrey was a failure, and she always would be.

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shion-yu · 7 months

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Day 8 - Seizure

Julian was aware that he may have gone too far this time. Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Shumei - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23743470.shumei-tw. This one’s EXTRA dark, you have been warned.

TW/CWs: Medical abuse!!

Julian was aware that he may have gone too far this time. Shu was out of his mind with fever. It was so bad that his boyfriend couldn’t even get a sentence out. Julian was actually giving him full doses of medication and yet the fever still wasn’t breaking. He held Shu up in bed, his hands planted firmly on Shu’s forearms to keep him from falling to the side bonelessly. “Shu, darling, Shumei, look at me, please.”

Shu’s eyes sluggishly moved in Julian’s direction, but Julian could tell he wasn’t actually seeing anything. This was bad. Really bad. Julian was actually truly worried for Shu’s health and he didn’t like that feeling.

Julian stroked Shu’s hot face gently, eliciting only weak whimpers from the delicate man in his arms. “Darling? Can you hear me?”

There was a long pause, the only sound Shu’s labored breathing until he grunted in some weak acknowledgement. Okay, at least Shu could hear him, Julian thought to himself. “Shu, I’m going to draw you a bath. Hang on for me, okay?” No response this time.

Julian didn’t want to leave Shu even for a second, but the master bath was connected to their bedroom so he was at least able to leave the door open and watch Shu while he filled up the tub. The sound of rushing water was now familiar - he’d given Shu many baths over the past year, but he’d never felt so anxious for it to fill up. It seemed like the water level wasn’t rising fast enough. He made sure it was lukewarm before he stopped the drain and returned to Shumei’s side. “Just a few minutes, Shu.”

Shu twitched in bed. At first Julian thought that was a good sign that he heard Julian - but then he didn’t stop shaking. His hands were balled into tight fists that pulsed tightly, and soon his boyfriend was straining his neck upwards. “Shu?” Julian asked. The tremors only grew stronger, more pronounced, and Julian realized Shu was having a seizure. “Shit,” he swore. He took the pillows away and pulled back the covers so Shu couldn’t get tangled in anything. He pushed Shu onto his side and started counting.

One... ten... twenty...

His boyfriend’s shaking grew more violent. Grand mal seizure, Julian’s brain supplied. If they were at the hospital, he could order an IV push antiepileptic right away, but they were just at home. There was no one else around. Usually Julian loved that it was just the two of them in the apartment, but for once he wished someone else were here to help him wait through this.

Thirty... fourty... fifty...

A minute had never felt so long to Julian in his life. Foamy, red tinged sputum began to form in the corners of Shu’s lips and Julian winced. Shu must have bitten his tongue.

Sixty... seventy... eighty...

The smell of urine, blood and bile mixed in the air. All scents that Julian was used to in the hospital, but in their home it felt markedly wrong. He couldn’t go this far again, he told himself. He had to take better care of Shu, otherwise he wouldn’t have a boyfriend to take care of at all.

Ninety... ninety-five...

The shaking was easing up now, Shu’s body relaxing ever so slightly. Julian grabbed his stethoscope from the bedside table and listened intently, relieved when he could hear Shu’s airway had not been obstructed. His boyfriend’s lips were tinged blue, but his heart was beating strong and fast. He’d be fine. Oxygen would have been helpful, but Julian didn’t have any at home. He’d have to order some right away.

Shu groaned weakly, no discernable words to be made out. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s over,” Julian said, wiping a trail of blood that ran down Shu’s chin with his thumb. “It’s all over.”

Julian stood and glanced back at the bathroom, which immediately prompted him to run to turn the faucet off. The tub had overflown, leaving a thin layer of water on the porcelain floor that soaked the bath mats. He swore and threw several dry towels down to at least make the bathroom walkable before he went back to the bed and undressed Shu. His clothes were damp with sweat and urine and clung to Shu’s skin; Julian peeled them off of his boyfriend and then carried his naked form to the bathtub. Not bothering to get undressed himself, he stepped into the tub and lowered Shu into it. More water splashed loudly over the edges of the vessel. He’d deal with it later; right now, he had to lower Shu’s fever before his boyfriend had another seizure.

The water was slightly cooler than room temperature, so while it wasn’t exactly pleasant, it wasn’t the ice bath that Shu’s body reacted to like it was. He cried out loudly, unseeing eyes flying open in panic as Julian held him in the water. He writhed in Julian’s grasp, but thankfully he was too weak to get anywhere.

“I know it hurts. I’m sorry, you’ll feel better soon,” Julian whispered to him. “Just hold on a bit longer.”

No answer. Julian hadn’t expected one. He cupped handfuls of water and ran them over Shu’s face. ��I’ve got you, I’m right here.” The noises Shu was making broke Julian’s heart. He usually liked when Shu cried, but this was different. Shu wasn’t conscious enough to show the emotions that Julian loved - he couldn’t feel sad or needy or weak. He couldn’t feel anything except pain, and that wasn’t what Julian wanted. He wanted Shu to rely on him and him only - not be completely at the mercy of just anybody because he was too unconscious to tell otherwise.

“You won’t get this sick again, I promise,” Julian said softly, because he knew Shu couldn’t understand him. He rubbed the blood off of Shu’s face and began to drain the tub; the water was a sickly brown color that disgusted him. “I won’t let you. I’ll be more prepared next time.” He leaned forward and kissed Shu’s burning forehead.

Once the bath was empty, Julian filled it once more while they were still inside so that he could rinse Shu off with clean water. Shu was shivering violently, but Julian felt that his temperature had lowered at least slightly, so it had worked. He picked Shu up and carried him back to the bedroom, the soaked towels on the floor squelching unpleasantly beneath his bare feet. He placed Shu down in the chair next to the bed, pulling a fresh pair of underwear on his boyfriend and pulling a t-shirt over his head. He covered Shu with a blanket then changed the sheets quickly, throwing the soiled ones straight into the wash along with the soaked towels and pajamas. There, things were back in order. He changed his own dry pajamas and then put Shu back into bed.

He held Shu’s limp form close to him as he called into the hospital pharmacy, requesting all manner of IV medications that normally would only be available to home health agencies. His assistant would bring it to his house - it would only take a couple of hours to arrive. Home oxygen would arrive tomorrow, just in case.

“Ju... li...”

Julian looked down at his boyfriend in surprise. He hadn’t expected Shu to wake up yet, but Shu was tough, he reasoned. It was why he’d pushed him so hard - because Julian had watched him take so much already.

He held Shu closer to him. “Yes, darling, I’m here.”

“My mouth... hurts...”

Julian nodded. “You bit your tongue. I’ll let you have some ice chips later. Not yet.” He didn’t think it was a good idea for Shu to try and swallow yet.

“So tired,” Shu mumbled, his eyes closing again. “I can’t...”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Julian told him gently. “I’m here to take care of you.”

Shu’s eyes fluttered open once more for just a second. “Thank you,” he whispered. Julian felt his heart swell and he smiled.

“You don’t have to thank me, Shu. I love you. I’ll always love you no matter what.” Shu fell asleep once again and Julian kissed him a few more times. He loved Shu more than anything else. Shu was perhaps the only thing he loved. Today had been scary; it’d gone too far. But the thanks he got at the end of the day had made it worth it. The look in Shu’s eyes - fully dependent and trusting in Julian - was enough to remind Julian of every reason why he was doing this. He meant it when he said he intended to take care of Shu forever and ever - for as long as he could make sure Shu needed him.

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foxywrites · 7 months

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AFTG - SPY AU (P1) || to hunt a rabbit - chapter one

AI-less Whumptober 2023 - Day 8 : Panic attacks / Dissociation / Seizure || @ailesswhumptober Flufftober 2023 - Day 8 Alt 8 : Rainy Day Give Your Character a New Occupation|| @flufftober Angstober 2023 - Day 8 : Dark Days || @angstober Bad Thing Happen Bingo - O1 : Held at Gunpoint || @badthingshappenbingo Halloween Horror Bingo (1/3) - Covered in Blood || @halloweenhorrorbingo Halloween Horror Bingo (2/3) - Monster with a Kind Face || @halloweenhorrorbingo Halloween Horror Bingo (3/3) - What Goes Around Comes Around || @halloweenhorrorbingo Tarot Card Bingo - Wheel of Fortune || Notion Page AFG Angst Bingo - B4 : Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Lorde || @anyfandomangstbingo AFG Dark Bingo - B1 : Look What You Made Me Do - Taylor Swift || @anyfandomdarkbingo Spies Bingo 2023 - G4 : Stalking || @spies-bingo Fall Flash Slumber Party Bingo - I1 : Autumn Aesthetics: Bundling up in blankets || @slumberpartybingo Post JBB 2023 : "Do you need me to kill someone for you?" || @julybreakbingo

To Hunt a Rabbit by foxywrites

Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic

Summary: With the amount of blood staining their hands, a bodyguard was anything but what the foxes were.

"For how much?"

"A million."

But maybe they could make an exception this time.

Word Count: 3185

Rating: Mature

Trigger Warnings: Canon-Typical Warnings, Canonical Rape/Non-con, Blood and Torture, Whump, Morally Grey Characters, Presumed Dead

Relationships: Neil Josten & Ichirou Moriyama, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau, The Foxes | Palmetto State Foxes Member(s) & Neil Josten, Jean Moreau & The Trojans | USC Trojans Member(s), Kevin Day & Neil Josten & Jean Moreau, Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Nicky Hemmick/Erik Klose, Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Seth Gordon/Allison Reynolds, Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Kevin Day/Seth Gordon, Kevin Day/Allison Reynolds

Additional Tags: Neil Josten as Abram, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternate Universe - Hackers, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Slow Burn, Asexual Aaron Minyard, Asexual Renee Walker, Aromantic Seth Gordon, Protective Foxes | Palmetto State Foxes Member(s) (All For The Game), Andrew Minyard is not Medicated, Exy Does Exist (All For The Game)

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therulerofallpotatos · 7 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wednesday (TV 2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Wednesday Addams/Tyler Galpin Characters: Wednesday Addams, Tyler Galpin Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pre-Slash, Season one episode one, Harvest Festival, Seizures, Prophetic Visions, POV Tyler, Panic Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Psychic Wednesday Addams, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Trauma, Tyler Galpin Needs a Hug, Protective Tyler Galpin, Ailesswhumptober day eight Series: Part 3 of AI-Less Whumptober 2023 Summary:

When Tyler kills Rowan, he sees what he's done and then he sees who he did it in front of.

He can't breathe.

Words: 513 Chapters: 1/1

Finally posted day 8! Or I did on the 8th, but I had a busy day yesterday so I didn’t post the link until today. This was originally going to be a standalone, but since then I gained inspo for a part 2. Please enjoy!

#tyler x wednesday #wednesday addams #tyler galpin #wyler #weyler #wednesday fanfic #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday8 #panic attacks #my writing #Please Don't Run

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auroragehenna · 7 months

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AI-less Whumptober

Day 8 Panic attacks, dissociation, seizure

TW/CW: Trauma trigger, dehumanization? Somewhat? Special whumper x whumpee dynamic, brief mention of death Word count: 1083 words

Another tavern. Another room and another night without privacy. For the millionth time on their journey Tierney wished her master curse would work faster and the woman would just drop dead.

“Oh stop glaring daggers and settle down, I’m tired.”, Zestia said, noticing the Tiefling’s gaze and rolling her own eyes.

Tierney whispered an elvish insult under her breath as she turned around to take off her bags and Armor.

Not quiet enough.

“What did you say?!”, she heard Zestia’ voice from behind her, she sounded out of breath.

Tierney turned around, confused. And then she saw that Zestia had her hand on her rapier. She made a few quick steps back and went for her own dagger. But it wasn’t there. Of course. That damn hypnosis! So she went into defensive stance instead. But something was weird, Zestia wasn’t mad. She didn’t want to attack. She was...scared. “Okay what is going on?”

“What did you say?”

“My…My insult?”

“Yes! How do you know that!?”

“My father taught me.”

“Your father was an elve?!”, Zestia choked out, gripping her rapier even tighter, knuckles white. Tierney took a composed breath, she focused and replaced her pointed ears with fluffy sheep ears and tried to hide her wings and well as possible. Then she started to speak again: “Okay, deep breaths.” With careful, slow movements she put her hand into her bag and took out a bundle of bound flowers. Lavender and valerian. She stretched her hand out towards Zestia, the other one raised in innocence. “Please smell this. It’s not poison, plus you said yourself you’re immune to poison. Just please smell it, you’re having a panic attack.”

“I don’t need your fucking help!”, Zestia yelled, now shivering.

“Of course not. But smell it. It’s a nice smell either way.”, Tierney tried to convince her. But as Zestia made no sign to meet her halfway she laid the bundle on the table and walked into the corner next to the bed. Sitting on the ground. She tried to seem as little as a threat as possible.

Eventually Zestia moved out of her freeze and slowly walked to the table. “Tell me exactly what kind of plant those are!”, Zestia pressed out.

“Lavender and valerian. Both plants can assist you with calming down. Either by smelling them or by making them into a tea.”

“Why should I trust you.”

“You have better cards if I were to lie.”, Tierney argued and shrugged her shoulders. “But aside from that, you can’t.”

Zestia eyed her a bit longer but then shaking pale hands lifted up the bundle of flowers, and smelled on them. They did smell good, she had to admit. And she didn’t notice anything off. But she definitely didn’t feel calm yet.

“Can I help you now?”, Tierney asked from her corner.

Zestia grumbled but she really wanted to stop panicking. She hated this. All of this. But it would be fine. The Tiefling wouldn’t survive anyway and what she witnessed would die with her. “Fine. But one wrong move and…”

“Sure.”, Tierney answered, getting up and walking towards Zestia. “Okay, my advice would be; sit down. What do you think of that?”

“I don’t like it.”, Zestia answered.

“Okay. Then scratch that. But you’re still hyperventilating. Try to match your breathing to mine, okay? Breathe in for four, hold for seven and then exhale for eight. With me, come on.”, Tierney instructed

Zestia tried to mimic the breathing exercise and noticed that blessedly the light-headedness did grow smaller. “Okay, what’s next?”, Zestia asked, to her displeasure it sounded way less imperious than planned.

“I need you to focus on me whether I want that or not and tell me what animals you see, okay?”

“Uhm, okay?”

For the next few minutes Tierney played her malfunctioning wildshape ability and transformed multiple parts of her body into animal parts. Zestia guessed most of them correct, the snake parts the fastest, and she could feel that she was relaxing a bit more. Now I need you to look at my eyes and not at our hands and feel. Same spiel.

And Zestia did, she felt all the weird textures the Tiefling’s hand turned into. Skin, fur, and scales. Her lip twitched a bit as she felt the scales of snakes gliding under her fingers.

“Can you smell the flowers again?”, Tierney asked and Zestia did.

“Now tell me something positive, whatever it is, that comes to mind first.” I hate my life.

“Something positive…”, Zestia scoffed.

“Yes. Can be anything.”

“I…enjoy being on top of rooftops and playing my lyre. Seeing people slow down and listen.”

“Do you wanna do that now? Or just play in here?”

“I think I can do that.”, Zestia agreed.

“Great, proud of you.”, Tierney said, walked to the bed and let herself flop on it. Shortly after she heard music filling the room. She pulled her legs up to her torso and covered herself with her wing. Then she listened to the music trying to drown her thoughts in it. People always give what they need.

Eventually Zestia walked over to the bed and sat down on it. The Tiefling flinched. Zestia wanted to smile at it but right now she wasn’t in the mood. “Hey, do you have a melody you’d like me to play?”

Tierney held her breath, then she sat up and looked at Zestia. Inquiringly. “I only have a song from my past. From a dear friend. But I don’t want this to be connected to you.”

Zestia nodded awkwardly.

“But thank you for asking. I actually like how you play.”, Tierney admitted. Surprised at herself.

Zestia laughed a little in response: “The irony.”

“Why”

“Because I use the torments I bring upon others for my inspiration.”

Tierney raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together. She tried to ignore it but then had a better idea. “Then play me mine.”, she demanded.

“What?”, Zestia asked, visibly bewildered.

“Play me mine.”, Tierney insisted.

“Uhm. Alright.”, she eventually agreed and started playing the first notes of the melody. Somehow the sharpest tunes didn’t feel right. And when she looked over the next time the Tiefling had fallen asleep.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11 (Zestia is her DnD chararacter), @imnotamurdereripromise

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