#panic attack cw

[purblethinkin]

takes place sometime after season 1. wanted to draw a comic with these two

#fan art #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #shigeo kageyama #ritsu kageyama #anxiety cw #panic attack cw

[angelpuns]

Kid Leo Au: SPINOFF COMIC

Part 3!

I have an explanation as to why Leo is not concerned by Donnie's smallness, but I wanna see what everybody else thinks first!!!

Donnie awkwardly trying to comfort him is so just like me fr :) He's doing his best fr fr

Kid Leo Au Masterpost | First | Next

#rottmnt #art #fanart #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt comic #digital art #rottmnt art #comic #rottmnt kid leo au #kid leo au #rottmnt turtle tots #kid leo au spinoff #medium leo #lmao #cw panic attack #panic attack cw

[elloras]

Ted Lasso: The Signal

#ted lasso #tedlassoedit #ted lasso by episode #roy kent #richard montlaur #jamie tartt #roy x jamie #royjamie #coach beard #mae green #baz primrose #paul le fleur #jeremy blumenthal #afc richmond #panic attack cw #* #i didn't know this until i started listening to the podcast #but 'temper your chocolate you twat' is the most brett goldstein joke ever and it's so endearing

[one-time-i-dreamt]

When I was 13 I dreamt the entire world got flooded by baked beans and it terrified me so much I had one of my worst panic attacks to date.

#dream #panic attack cw #panic attack #flood #baked beans #food

[spielzeugkaiser]

[MASTERPOST]

Okay, I needed to get my whump out before I touched omegaverse Jaskier and Milek with it, soo... back to those two!

Geralt is not having a good time; and it was said before, but seldomly shown, but. Julian is pretty detached and cold at times. Jaskier has a lot of empathy, but at his current state he can be very dismissive, even annoyed at times, when something rattles his defences. (Also, because I know not all if you have seen that comic - the one who gave Jaskier the shiner and the bruises was Geralt. Just for context.)

#when will this AU continue properly? Uhhh- *currently stuck on baby* - SOMEDAY #undercover at lettenhove au #julian alfred pankratz #geralt #geraskier #bruises tw #abuse tw #non con tw #dub con tw #also sorry to all the new followers who thought I was doing sweet child stuff only OH BOY. OH BOY NO #panic attack cw #(also I can't promise that there didn't land a little bit of whump on omegaverse I'm just saying) #(oopsie)

[salembutnotthecat]

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Seven

@monthofsick

day seven: too feverish to think

i started fics for day five and day six but i experienced some offline health issues (ironic, right?) so i’ll either post them later and tag them or just post them on their own after the event. we’ll see.

decided to write another flashback fic. this time of novak in college. totally, definitely, absolutely not based off true events.

this fic happens around novak’s junior year of college.

if you have questions, comments, or requests, feel free to send!

tw emeto, sickness, overwork, stress, panic attack, fainting

Novak sat on his bed, leaning against the wall. He was hunched over his notes, rubbing his eyes in a futile attempt to ward off the exhaustion creeping into his bones.

He grabbed his phone. He checked the time.

3:27AM

Benji stirred in his bunk, his sleep-addled brain registering the soft rustle of papers and the occasional frustrated sigh emanating from his roommate's direction.

With a groan, he rolled over.

"Novak," Benji's voice was exhausted, but he still seemed worried. "You still at it? Have you even slept?"

Novak looked up, "Yeah, just trying to cram for midterms," he mumbled, forcing a smile. "I'll crash in a bit, don't worry about me."

But Benji wasn't convinced. He could see the telltale signs of exhaustion etched into Novak's features, the paleness of his skin, the tremor in his hands as he reached for another textbook.

“Dude, you don't look so good. Maybe you should take a break, get some rest.” Benji said, “Your health is more important than acing these exams."

Novak waved off his concerns, brushing them aside with a dismissive gesture. "I'll be fine, Benji. Just a little tired, that's all. I can't afford to slack off"

“Alright, whatever dude,” Benji said, rolling back over to go back to sleep.

-

Despite the mounting discomfort, Novak dragged himself to his morning classes, his head pounding and his body aching with every step.

He was freezing when his alarm went off, telling him it was time for class. He slept for maybe two hours, but he felt like he didn’t sleep at all.

Novak pulled himself out of bed, grabbed his sweatshirt, tied back his hair, and grabbed his things.

Breakfast was the last thing on his mind, but the way his head spun and he stumbled into the wall, he knew he had to eat something.

As he sat in his marketing lecture, Novak struggled to focus on the professor's words, his mind clouded by the persistent throbbing in his temples.

The quick breakfast he grabbed had long settled like a rock in his stomach, a queasy sensation churning in the pit of his stomach.

He tried to focus. He did. Now was not the time to not focus. But, he couldn’t make out what the professor was saying. Let alone take notes or retain anything.

He tried to drink some water, take some medicine. Despite his best efforts, Novak's condition continued to deteriorate. Each step became a struggle? his body weighed down by the relentless onslaught of fever and nausea.

As he stumbled through the halls of his college, Novak's world blurred into a hazy fog of discomfort, his mind struggling to grasp the simplest of concepts.

In class, the words of his professors seemed to float in one ear and out the other, lost amidst the cacophony of pain and fatigue that consumed him.

Desperately, he tried to focus, but the fever had dulled his senses, leaving him adrift in a sea of confusion.

Nausea clawed at his stomach. With each passing minute, the urge to just go back to his dorm room and crash for a week was getting stronger. The desire to escape the suffocating confines of the lecture hall and take a cool shower and just sleep this off.

Novak was still holding out on not being sick. He couldn’t be sick. Especially because being sick was brutal on him, more brutal than it was on others. He had always been that way. And it was horrible.

But if he skipped class he couldn’t go to practice. He couldn’t play.

He had to tough it out. Just until midterms were over.

-

As Novak made it onto the practice field, the weight of his illness hung heavy upon him, each step a struggle against the relentless tide of fatigue and discomfort.

The sun beat down mercilessly, its searing rays only serving to exacerbate the fever that he was sure he had.

Despite the mounting agony, Novak forced a stoic mask onto his face, unwilling to show any sign of weakness to his teammates or coaches.

Novak clenched his jaw, he pushed himself through the grueling drills and punishing workouts, his body screaming in protest with every movement. If he wanted any chance of going professional, he couldn’t afford to lose out on practice or a single game.

As practice dragged on, Novak's strength waned, his limbs growing heavier with each passing minute. Nausea clawed at his insides, threatening to overwhelm him at any moment.

The coach barked out orders, his voice a distant echo in Novak's ears as he fought to keep his focus amidst the haze of fever-induced delirium.

But as the afternoon wore on and the sun dipped below the horizon, Novak was, for lack of better explanation, fucking up royally.

His vision swam, black spots dancing at the edges of his consciousness as he struggled to remain upright. With each passing minute, the world seemed to tilt on its axis, threatening to make him pass out. Or vomit. Something.

Yet still, he refused to quit. With every ounce of strength left within him, Novak pushed himself to the brink. Every bit of energy he could pull was put into finishing out the practice.

He had to finish.

-

As Novak stumbled back into the dimly lit dorm room, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, it was evident to Benji that something was seriously wrong.

“Okay. Study, class, practice, now you can sleep, right?” Benji spoke.

Novak shook his head, “Not even close.” He said, setting his bag down by his desk.

Novak grabbed the sweater from the corner of his bed pulling it on.

“I’m… fucking freezing…” Novak mumbled.

Benji watched in concern as Novak sank into his chair, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead as he attempted to bury himself in his books. But it was clear that the fever had taken its toll, the lines of fatigue etched into Novak's features betraying his struggle to remain upright.

“That’s the sweater your mom sent you,” Benji said, “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? I think the last time I saw you wear it you were stuck in bed with a migraine…”

Novak waved him off with a weak smile, his voice strained with effort. "I'm fine, just a little under the weather, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

But as Novak attempted to focus on his studies, the fever raged unchecked, a relentless drumbeat of pain and discomfort that refused to be ignored. His vision swam before his eyes, the words on the page blurring into a meaningless jumble of letters and symbols.

With a soft sigh, Novak felt his eyelids growing heavy, his body succumbing to the overwhelming urge to sleep. But before he could succumb to the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, Benji's voice cut through the haze, jolting him awake.

"Gwt in bed,” Benji said. Suddenly his roommate was beside him, shutting his marketing textbook.

“Hey I was studying-“

“Novak, you should really get some rest," Benji started. "You look like you're about to pass out."

Novak's stomach churned violently, a wave of nausea washing over him with sickening intensity.

He buried his face in his hands with a soft whine, shaking his head. He could feel his own fever. Could feel the way his stomach churned. God he felt so sick. When did he start feeling so fucking sick?

Novak's heart hammered in his chest, a relentless drumbeat of panic echoing in his ears as he fought to regain control of his trembling limbs. He forced himself to take slow, steady breaths, attempting to make everything feel less overwhelming.

Novak's hands trembled as he fought to suppress the panic threatening to engulf him. His whole body felt like it was buzzing, like despite the fever there was a live wire running through him.

“Novak..?” Benji asked.

"I'm... I'm fine," Novak managed to choke out, though the words felt hollow and insincere even to his own ears. "Just... need a minute."

But even as he spoke, the nausea intensified, a vicious reminder of his body's betrayal. Not only was he sick, but he was sure he was experiencing… something.

His throat constricted, a bitter taste flooding his mouth as he struggled to hold back the inevitable tide of vomit.

With a desperate lurch, Novak lunged for the trash can by his desk, his stomach convulsing as he retched violently into the bin. Hot tears stung his eyes as he emptied the contents of his stomach once more. He felt his nose running.

“Novak… jesus…,” Benji said, pulling back Novak’s hair.

Novak's chest tightened with each ragged breath, the weight of his sickness and panic pressing down on him like a leaden blanket.

The sensation of Benji's hands on his back, trying to comfort him, only served to exacerbate his distress, sending waves of overwhelming stimulation crashing over him.

"Please... just... stop," Novak gasped between heaves, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of his own suffering. "I can't... I can't..."

But even as he spoke, another wave of nausea crashed over him, leaving him trembling and helpless in its wake. He could feel the panic rising within him, a relentless tide threatening to consume him whole.

There was nothing he could do to stop the vomiting. He was sure his fever was making his panic all the worse. But maybe, maybe that he could fix.

Novak did the only thing he knew to do for the panic. He hugged himself, tried to take breaths between waves of vomiting. He clutched his sleeves in his fists.

Benji pulled his hands away, stepped back. Being a psychology major, Benji could see the panic. The overstimulation.

“I'm sorry, Novak," Benji said, taking another step back “I just... I don't know what to do."

But Novak had no answer to give, no solace to offer in the face of his own torment. The fever made the panic worse. The panic made the nausea worse. The nausea was worse. Novak was going to throw up again.

Benji fetched another trash can, Novak braced himself for the next onslaught, his body wracked with pain and exhaustion.

As Novak's body convulsed with each retch, his fevered mind spiraled further into irrationality, the panic gripping him tighter with each passing moment.

The cycle of sickness and distress seemed never-ending, a relentless onslaught that left him gasping for breath and clinging to the edge of consciousness.

Finally, as the last vestiges of bile dribbled from his lips, Novak slumped back in his chair, his body trembling with exhaustion and his mind reeling from the ordeal.

The room spun around him, the walls closing in as if to swallow him whole, and he fought against the encroaching darkness that threatened to claim him.

Benji hovered nearby, his expression a mixture of concern and helplessness as he watched Novak's struggle.

“You really need to lie down," Benji urged, his voice barely audible over the pounding of Novak's heart in his ears.”Can I touch you to help-“

“No… please, please no…” Novak said. The thought of Benji’s, or anyone’s actually, hands on him make his skin crawl.

Novak forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him as he staggered towards the safety of his bed. Each step felt like he was walking a mile, his vision swimming and his senses overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of his exhaustion.

But just as he reached the edge of his bed, a wave of dizziness washed over him. He felt his head tilt back, felt like his knees might buckle beneath him. He reached for the first thing he could reach, thankfully the edge of his bed. His fingers dug into the fabric as he fought to keep himself upright.

"Novak, are you okay?" Benji's voice sounded distant, as if coming from the other end of a long tunnel.

But Novak could barely hear him over the roar of his own heartbeat, his world spinning out of control as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

He moved one more time. Everything gave out at once. His vision, his body, his hearing, every sensation disappeared instantly.

He felt his head hit his arm as he landed on what he could only hope was his bed.

-

As Novak slowly regained consciousness, the world around him swam into focus, his senses gradually coming back to life after what felt like an eternity lost in the void. His head throbbed with a dull ache, a relentless pulse that seemed to echo with each beat of his heart.

Blinking against the harsh glare of the overhead light, Novak turned his head to find Benji sitting nearby, his brow furrowed with concern as he poured over his textbooks.

As their eyes met, Benji's expression softened, relief flooding his features at the sight of Novak awake.

"Hey, man, you're finally up," Benji said, his voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. "How are you feeling?"

Novak tried to speak, but his throat was dry and everything hurt.

“Like I got hit by a truck," he managed to rasp out, his words slurred with fatigue.

Benji nodded sympathetically, reaching out to gently squeeze Novak's shoulder.

“You've been out for a while," he explained, his voice gentle. "Like a day and a half or something. You had a really high fever and a pretty bad panic attack. I've been keeping an eye on you, making sure you're okay."

Novak's brow furrowed in confusion, his memory hazy and fragmented. He sat up slowly, pulling a knee to his chest, resting his head in his hand and using his fingers to block out some of the light in the room.

“Here,” Benji said. There was a click of a lamp, then Benji got up and turned off the lights, “That should help…”

I don't... I don't remember much," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration.

Benji sighed, his expression sympathetic. "Yeah, you were pretty out of it," he said, reaching for a bottle of water on the bedside table and offering it to Novak. "You woke up a couple of times to drink or be sick, but you were mostly out of it."

As Novak took a sip of water, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.

"I still feel... off," he murmured, his hand instinctively reaching for his head as a sharp pang of pain shot through his temples.

Benji frowned, his concern deepening. "You might be dehydrated from being sick for so long," he suggested, his voice tinged with worry. "Is there anything else we should worry about?”

“My head is just killing me,” Novak said, taking another sip of water before lying back down as the room seemed to tilt a little.

“Migraine maybe,” Benji said, “From being so sick and all.”

Novak nodded weakly, his body still heavy with fatigue and his mind clouded with confusion.

“Still tired… somehow,” Novak mumbled.

“Get some rest,” Benji said, “Trust me. You need plenty for all the makeup midterms you need to do.”

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #fever cw #fever tw #emetophilia #novemetober 2023 #fainting tw #fainting cw #panic attack tw #panic attack cw #i really just went ham on this poor boy and im not sorry #novemetober rescheduled

[definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear]

cw: panic attack (super mild reference)

“Hey, it’s okay, just breathe,” Caretaker soothed while rubbing whumpee’s knuckles, waiting for them to give permission for more contact.

“I- I can’t-“ a strangled sob came from whumpee. “It hurts too much.”

Psst, hey. You there. Like my content? Feel free to ask questions and send in prompt ideas anytime! Luv ya!

#whump community #whumpblr #whump #whump blog #whump ideas #emotional whump #whump writing #whump scenario #whumpee #whump tropes #caretaker #hurt/comfort #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump drabble #panic attack cw

[bittwitchy]

Sebastian Stan as Justin Capshaw, Law and Order (Sheltered, 2003)

#mine #mine. #please don't add to gif hunts/claim as your own/edit without permission. thank you! #sebastian stan #sstanedit #sebstanedit #sebastianstanedit #sebastiansource #justin capshaw #panic attack cw

[miraculouslylyn]

Back on my Félix having a ton of nightmares Bullshit.

Tw for mentions of vomit and also panic attacks!

Félix gets sick after nightmares sometimes. It usually only lasts for a few hours but sometimes he ends up vomiting or with a fever.

His nightmares are usually about his dad. Colt Fathom go die a second, even painfuller deathTM Sometimes they're about him just straight up being snapped out of existence in general.

Amelie once she finds out usually tries to comfort him by singing him lullabies or by cuddling him and talking to him for a while.

Félix has stayed up for hours on end in fear of having nightmares. Mainly because some nights they're particularly more brutal.

He has a lot of recurring ones when it comes to his dad, those ones are usually so bad he wakes up screaming and having a panic attack.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #felix fathom #miraculous headcanon #amelie graham de vanily #headcanons #nightmares #vomit mention #vomit ment tw #cw vomit #tw vomit #word vomit #panic attack #panic attack mention #tw panic attack #panic attack cw

[derry-rain]

didn't take a day before i was back, but i *did* have a good mental health day, slept for a full eleven hours and i think i'm going to be very gentle with myself for the next few weeks. what silly things brains are. <3

anxiety is a beast. it doesn't usually flare so badly, i think it's largely year end stress and a few triggers.

thanks loves to everyone who reached out, and thanks loves to everyone who wanted to and felt they couldn't, or would have done if they saw! <3 nothing but love for all of you.

#derry: personal #panic attack cw

[tapuhauko]

@specialagent836 continued from here:

"N-ni-nigh—"

They're too panicked to speak properly right now. Looker can probably tell they're holding back their powers from the way static electricity fills the air. They're come quite far in that regard, actually! A year ago, or even months ago, they'd have already zapped the other by accident by now. Hau stumbles over the word a few more times, before giving up and simply allowing himself to sob into Looker's chest for a bit. It takes a while, but eventually Hau starts calming down, feeling safer with Looker there and being in a trusted environment. "...N-nightmare." His voice still trembles, but he manages to articulate better now. "I think I s-sensed a Toxapex in my sleep."

#specialagent836 #of sunshine and thunderstorms ; ic #panic attack cw #just in case

[edandstede]

i’d love to see joel open up about his anxiety and panic attacks (or for ellie to figure it out after witnessing it first-hand) and ellie to help him work through it. she’s smart, and she’s grown up in this world, and i have a feeling she’d know how to bring him back down - it’s another thing that would just make them stronger as a team, to know that this thing joel is terrified will get someone else killed is actually something they can try to manage together. with that trust, with ellie understanding and being able to assist and take action when necessary instead of being unaware of it, they’ll be better off, not worse (as is the case throughout their journey)

#anxiety cw #panic attack cw #tlou series #ch: tv ellie williams #ch: tv joel miller #especially with the winter arc in motion and ellie having to take initiative with joel injured #i think we’re gonna see a lot more of what she’s capable of #and i hope that includes something along these lines #quill to paper

[clockwork-freminet]

maybe take a little more time to think about this before rushing off. you’ll be better at helping them if you take a moment to breathe and think clearly.

"... I..."

Freminet brought his hands to his helmet for a moment, the sounds of him breathing heavily through the ventilator ringing in the air. He then suddenly brought his shaking hands to his neck, scratching at his skin. "I—I can't breathe," he sputtered. "I c— I can't..."

#panic attack cw #genshin impact #asks #anon #freminet #freminet speaks #self harm cw

[ghcstcd]

Also, I'm not making any changes to Dew and his design anytime soon, unless it naturally occurs. (Like how I flip flop with some of his design features, same happens when discussing his character.)

Again, thank you to those who reached out, clarified, and reassured me.

#I'm just tired and emotional today #little wibbly but I think that's just the after effects of my own spiraling last night #idk I'm so used to being like 'oh. I'm just being too sensitive' and not realizing that I'm /actually/ having a panic attack or something #panic attack cw

[notfromcold]

My folk punk band is called Inexplicable Panic Attack at the Lake.

Docked a sailboat badly and then apparently all the stress I've been under lately hit me like a freight train.

#that was fun #panic attack cw #i got through it but wtf #work is really getting to me lately

[salembutnotthecat]

tw for emeto, panic attack, fever

a little more vanessa and willow, just a little fic showing a little more of Vanessa’s backstory (not a whole lot) and the domesticness of vanessa and willow

feel free to send requests for these two/general requests!! if you want to see more!!

First it was 10:00pm. Willow said she would be off at 9:30 and therefore, should be home by 10.

Then it was 10:30pm. Willow got caught up in a last minute patient and had paperwork to finish about it.

Then it was 11:00pm. The paperwork went longer, the family had given Willow countless issues.

But now it’s midnight, and Willow isn’t here.

Vanessa knows she’s both a nursing student and an adult. Willow can come home whenever she wants.

By one in the morning, Vanessa is pacing the downstairs. The kitchen, the living room, the eating area. She would pace, try to force herself to sit, only to start again.

Her body is tingling. Shaking her hands, her arms, even her feet, isn’t helping. The tingling stays, if not gets worse.

She’d texted Willow frequently. Every 15 minutes, or thirty.

But what if Willow was driving home and saw Vanessa’s texts?

The thought made Vanessa panic. Years of serving as a cop, many more of watching the news, she knew how frequently people wrecked from texting and driving. Vanessa couldn’t handle that.

She already felt responsible for what happened before. With her mom, on the other side of the country. The whole reason she packed up, moved, and quit serving as an officer.

She couldn’t be responsible for Willow too…

Vanessa started biting her nails, she stopped texting. Pacing, shaking hands, nail biting. She couldn’t breathe.

She went toward the stairs. Maybe she could get her scanner, maybe she could listen and see if someone had been in a wreck or something.

No, Vanessa thought, that would terrify her more.

Her chest hurt. Her breathing was shaking. Her whole body felt like live wires were running through it. Her stomach… god, her stomach was starting to feel bad too…

She found herself in the kitchen. The room seemed so much smaller, closing in on her. Vanessa braced herself against the counter by sink.

It’s 2:15. Vanessa can barely make it out on the clock. Willow isn’t here.

In her distress, Vanessa heaved over the thankfully empty sink. She was grateful to herself, her earlier self, for washing them.

God her stomach felt really upset… and her vison was blurred with tears.

Vanessa’s breath caught in her throat, a strange mix of hyperventilating and the occasional dry heave, leaving her to anxiously white-knuckle the counter. The hyperventilating, the heaving, the anxious thoughts. All of it.

Vanessa was in tears, a choked scream coming through clenched teeth as everything continued to spiral.

And suddenly, there’s a hand brushing Vanessa’s hair, gentle hushing, and a hand carefully wiping away some tears.

“Ness,” Its Willow. Finally. “Nessie, what happened?”

Vanessa can’t speak. But, a shaking hand releases the counter, reaching for Willow. Willow’s hand, her shoulder, something, anything…

Willow pulls Vanessa into a comforting embrace, feeling the tension in her body.

"It's okay, Nessie. I'm here," Willow murmurs soothingly.

Vanessa clings to her, chest heaving with each shaky breath.

“Gosh, you’re hot,” Willow said. Which, was true, Vanessa did seem awfully warm, even by panic attack standards. But part of it was just to see how far gone into panic Vanessa was.

Vanessa doesn’t say anything, just tugs at the neckline of her t-shirt.

“Okay, here… let’s do this,” Willow said, leading Vanessa to the side door, where the small porch on the side of the house was.

It was an odd placement, and quite small. But there were two chairs out there. The air was chilly, Willow knew the cold would possibly shock Vanessa back into stability.

Willow guides her to sit on a chair, her touch a steady anchor in the storm of Vanessa's panic.

As Vanessa struggles to find words, Willow keeps her focus on providing comfort. She gently strokes Vanessa's back, a calming rhythm that matches the rise and fall of her uneven breaths.

“Inhale with me, Ness. Deep breaths. You're safe here."

Vanessa follows Willow's lead, gradually syncing her breaths with the gentle cadence Willow sets. The tingling in her body begins to subside, replaced by a sense of grounding.

Willow watches, subtly checking Vanessa’s pulse rate and basic vitals as Vanessa calms. Willow observes Vanessa, looking for any clues as to how Vanessa is feeling.

The porch light shows that Vanessa’s face is flushed, more so than Willow is used to seeing for most panic attacks. Vanessa’s hair is in a ponytail, she’s in a shirt from her former police department and comfortable shorts. The wrinkle of the shirt alone tells Willow that Vanessa has been in that outfit since she got home. Vanessa was either going to go for a run, or was hot.

As Vanessa calms, behind the flush she seems pale. Paler than usual. Willow brushes a few tears off Vanessa’s face with her thumbs and sees a startling difference in their skin tones.

Vanessa has always been a little darker than Willow.

“My dad, he was Italian and Latino I think,” Vanessa had said one time while she was cooking dinner for herself and Willow.

But now, Vanessa seems the same shade as… well, the relatively violently red-headed, Irish Willow. Pale, much paler than she should be. Vanessa’s strawberry blonde hair washes her out.

“I’m sorry…”

It’s the first words, and only words, out of Vanessa’s mouth.

“It’s okay,” Willow said, “How are you holding up..?”

Vanessa looks at her, regret and self disappointment painting her features.

“I… I’m sorry…”

Willow sighs, pulling the other chair over to sit in front of Vanessa.

Vanessa is looking down now. At the ground, a hand over her stomach, her body rigid again.

But, Willow can tell, it’s not a panicked rigid.

Willow places a careful hand over Vanessa’s hand on her stomach, her other hand on Vanessa’s shoulder. Vanessa’s stomach feels bloated.

“Hey, deep breaths,” Willow said, confused by the escalation. At least, momentarily.

Vanessa wipes her face with her hand, she mumbles something but Willow doesn’t catch it. Theres a strange growling noise.

“What was that..?” Willow tilted her head.

“I’m… I’m going to throw up.”

“Yeah, that’s normal to feel after a-“

Vanessa nudges Willow back, standing up and going to the railing, immediately heaving into the grass.

One gag, just spit. Another, Vanessa feels her stomach seem to move to her throat, and whatever she heaves up burns. A third gag turns into a full retch, and a torrent of vomit splatters into the grass.

Vanessa gags again, heaving up an even thicker stream of vomit over the railing. Willow stands beside her, rubbing her back and keeping Vanessa’s hair out of her face. Vanessa is hot, and sweating, and something tells Willow this is definitely more than a panic attack.

Vanessa heaves again, more vomit. Each wave comes up thicker than the last. For a moment, they stop producing anything. But then, Vanessa leans into the railing, pressing her abdomen into the wood, and the thickest wave of vomit pours out of her like someone dumping a bucket of water.

Vanessa gasps, but the heaving breaths turn into genuine heaving, and by Willow’s timing it takes almost forty minutes of abundant vomiting, each heave becoming more violent the less there is coming up, before Vanessa is left gasping, pressing her forehead to the rail to try and catch her breath.

“Got it all out?” Willow questions.

Vanessa nods hesitantly, coughing a few times and spitting, but it’s nothing more than to try and get the terrible taste out of her mouth. She feels like theres more, but it could just be everything else.

“Okay, come on…” Willow said.

Carefully, she leads Vanessa into the house, into her room.

Willow goes to grab Vanessa’s trash can, but Vanessa stops her.

“It’s already over here…” Vanessa said. And sure enough, on the side of the bed where Vanessa usually sleeps, theres the trash can.

“You get nauseous a lot,” Willow said, “Have you thought about-“

“Seeing someone?” Vanessa asked, “I did before I moved here. The doctor said it was stress related, but everything else looked good.”

“Hm, interesting,” Willow said, “I’ll be right back.”

Willow stepped out, went to their shared bathroom, and came back with a thermometer.

“I know you just threw up but can we please check?” Willow asked “You seem warmer than usual. Even by panic attack standards…”

Vanessa nodded, grabbing the thermometer and putting it under her tongue.

The feeling made her want to gag, she anxiously rubbed her hand against her pants. The second it beeped, she handed it to Willow before lunging for the trash can, heaving and having more abundant waves of vomit.

“Oh, god…” Willow was shocked, but quickly dashed to grab the one from the bathroom.

As she came back, the trashcan on Vanessa’s floor was nearly full.

“Here, here..” Willow said, guiding Vanessa to the other trash can.

The security officer almost filled that one too, before the vomiting subsided.

“Wills… I… I don’t know what’s wrong…” Vanessa mumbled, “I never feel this sick…. From that…”

“You’ve had panic attacks before..? You know what we can talk about it later,” Willow said, “You have a fever. If I had to guess, that’s why your panic was so bad. And why you threw up so much… Ness, are you sick?”

Vanessa moaned, her stomach cramping.

“I don’t know… I mean I was hot coming home,” Vanessa said, before resting her face in one of her hands, the other holding her stomach that was starting to feel even sicker, “Can we just… do this later..? I feel like if I talk too much more… I’m going to throw up again…”

“Yeah,” Willow said, sitting beside Vanessa, rubbing her shoulder, “And I’ll stay right here until you want to talk… or if you need to throw up again.”

#emeto #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #panic attack tw #panic attack cw #fever tw #fever cw