Fanfic: To Hurt and Heal, Harry Potter | FanFiction
They say that everybody who gets out of Azkaban comes out a little mad. After the war, Draco Malfoy spends three months in Azkaban. He just wants to go insane in peace, but Harry Potter finds that he, inexplicably, still can't leave Draco alone. Eighth year, post-DH, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Predictive programming from the TV series Revolution, about the blackouts KIaus Schwab stated was going to happen. The ruIing parasitic trillionaires have been planning to turn off the grid and when it comes back on after at least a few months, only those who will submit to getting chipped, vaxed and whatever else they want you to submit to, will be allowed to use power, internet. Social credit system and new digital currency will be in place, allowed for only those who will submit to get the DNA destroying mRNA shots mixed with chimera DNA (human animal hybrids created in their Frankenlabs), deadIy toxins, parasites, nanoparticles. All humans will be made non-human (transhuman chimeras) and sterilized from these shots. And they will have to get boosters whenever required to make sure their bodies don't somehow recover from it all and they don't live too long. Only those who submit to the orders will be allowed to eat (the toxic foods) & take part in the New Beast System = NWO
I’m not sure if you’re taking requests, but could you write a story for the resident, where Conrad has either a panic attack or flashback in front of his co-workers?
Hi! It’s really funny that you wrote because I recently decided I was tired of being on hiatus, so…I’ve decided that I really liked your prompt, and wrote you a quick drabble!
It’s below the cut, enjoy!
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Gun fire rings in his ears, helicopter blades stir the dust around him, his lungs ache as explosions steal the oxygen from the air. His hands tremble as they press against the wound of the man laying still in front of him. A soldier, his helmet sits crooked on his head, his weapon lies beside him, still gripped tightly in his … dead hands.
Conrad blinks and suddenly the person below him is older, mid 50’s, and isn’t dressed in military fatigues, rather jeans and a shirt. The wound beneath his hands from a mugging, and not enemy fire.
Conrad takes a shuttering breath as Nic and Irving bark orders around him. He’s in the ER, Conrad realizes suddenly, and not in the desert. He’s not being shot at or blown to pieces, rather, he’s surrounded by the chaos of the emergency room.
Blinking rapidly, Conrad tries to focus, but everytime his eyelids meet, he doesn’t see the darkness that he should, rather all he sees is blinding light. And blood, so much blood. His blood, the blood of friends, brothers. His chest tightens as his eyes open again, and his heart pounds in his chest. He gasps for air, pulling his hands away and stumbling back, reaching out for something to catch him as his chest grows tight. Tighter and tighter as his ribs try to squeeze what they’re supposed to protect.
His breaths come rapidly as he reaches for something to grab, but instead, only catches air, and he falls onto his bottom. One hand clenches at his shirt, trying to pull it away from his neck, like his sudden onslaught of problems can be blamed on an article of clothes.
He kicks his legs out, trying to gain some traction, but instead, all he can manage is to kick at the legs of someone - he looks up into the eyes of the enemy that he was trained to hate, as they stare down at him maliciously. “Conrad-”
He yells out, trying to drag himself away again, trying to escape this sudden hell, “No, no, no!”
He sees black start to edge into his vision and on some level of consciousness, realizes he’s about to black-out, probably from lack of oxygen… he blinks and the person in front of him is no longer a pair of eyes in the shadows of the desert, rather the very worried face of his girlfriend, who’s saying something, but all Conrad can hear is the explosions and the gunshots and -
“Nic!” he calls out, he needs to warn her of the enemies, they’re here, they’re everywhere. They’re edging into his vision as he feels his body begins to feel lead filled, weighing him down through the floor. He falls to his side, his hand still clenched to his neck, trying to force himself to breathe as someone flips him onto his back. Someone’s screaming his name, but all he can see is him as he crushes his hands into Conrad’s neck, stopping him from breathing.
And then it’s completely dark.
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He startles awake, trying to make sense of the images that flash through his brain. “Hey, don’t get started with the panic, breathe deep breaths buddy.” Conrad opens his eyes and is thankful to see Irving standing over him. He’s not touching him, which Conrad appreciates, he doesn’t appreciate the mattress that lies beneath him, but the moments leading up to this moment are blurred.
“What happened?” Conrad asked as he slowly sat up stretching his shoulders and back, looking around. He’s in an ER cubicle, the curtain drawn around him. Irving has an ice pack pressed to his bruising and swollen eye socket.
“I’m not sure, but I have a sinking suspicion,” Conrad feels a weight settle in his stomach. “A panic attack, possibly hallucinations, maybe a flashback. PTSD, am I close?”
Conrad tries to speak, but all he can do is move his mouth, he can’t get words to spew. So instead he bites his lip and nods his head.
“It’s ok, your secrets safe with me, I gotta know what triggered it though, so we can avoid this?” Irving suggested, pulling a stool beside Conrad’s bed.
Conrad wipes at his wet eyes, his chin quivering despite him clenching his teeth together. “He looked just like a friend I lost, and covered in blood, and all the noises and everything came and hit me at once.”
“How often does this happen.” Irving presses on.
Conrad shakes his head. “Not that often, this is the first I’ve had in a long time. I’m really good about getting help whenever the symptoms get bad.”
“That’s awesome buddy.” Irving nods, “I never want to be on the receiving end of you passing out and punching me in the face again, you hear?”
Conrad smirks, “Yeah, I hear you.”
“Good, get something to eat, and go find Nic, she’s worried sick, and rest a few minutes, ok?”
