#dizziness tw

[fletcherwilbury]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

@whumptober Day 4: "You in there?"

Warning for Physical abuse, asthma attack, chemicals, medication, dizziness, fainting

[jofms]

@drvgonbvnny at the creamery ice cream and coffee bar (again)

it had been no fault of the purchase or the staff members when sudden nausea set into the woman, causing josette to quickly abandon her belongings and lock herself in to the available toilet facilities to empty the little that was in her stomach. knees pressing into to cold floor, she'd spend several minutes there, minutes that would feel like hours as she waited for the feeling to subside and for her body to stop shaking. slowly pushing herself up, she flushed, washed her hands and the outside of her mouth before she emerged back into the main café. walking slowly back to her table to get some money for water, she thought her eyes were deceiving her when she's seen dustin. the hairs on her arms stood up once more, making her feel the chill through her sweater despite the sweat on her forehead. the woman was aware she was staring but for the first time in a long time, she couldn't find the words to address him - she was just staring at him with clearly desperate eyes, the root of that desperation unknown. "i need to, um-" breath shaky, she felt dizzy. "get some water. do you want anything?" breaking her stare, she turned to her bag, overly rummaging in the small thing to pick out her wallet before accidentally dropping it. "fuck." josette was sober yet an onlooker would have assumed she was drunk from how she was behaving.

[emmelinehq]

@theandipowers

harrison. steffi. stabbing. max. baby. ana. alone. fire. charlie. an already dizzy emmeline had got up from where she'd been sitting for the past ten minutes, still and out of touch before realising she had to get out. the woman figured she could manage it and just sleep off the awful feelings that were building inside of her. stabbing. steffi. max. doug. it just kept going and going until... bang. her legs gave out and she'd hit the floor. everything went black for a few moments. everything was still black when she opened her eyes but knew it wasn't something to panic over. the sudden drop had caused everything to switch off, for her mind to stop racing which was probably a blessing in disguise.

[whimperwoods]

Oswin - Fog and Vertigo

Part 9! Oswin Greystone is a wizard, a con man, and, now, a warlock’s pet. He needs to find a way out of it.

tw: pet whump, tw: non-sexual nudity (he’s technically in his underwear), tw: abuse, tw: abuse by a representative of the law, tw: fantasy cops, tw: threats, tw: mental fog, tw: panic attacks, tw: dizziness, tw: vertigo, tw: vomit mention, kind of nothing happens, but kind of something does

There’s a masterpost now!

Taglist:  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi,  @starnight-whump

****

Oswin could barely believe his luck as his master’s booted feet retreated down the stairs. His jaw still ached faintly from the captain’s tight grip on it and he could hear that voice telling him, low and growling, exactly what would happen to him if he made a noise this time. He’d started shaking and he knew he’d never stop if he couldn’t get the images his master had painted back out of his head.

He waited, keeping his ears open and focusing on what he could hear in the hope that it might drive the thoughts away and settle his racing heart.

The sounds were the same as yesterday, the low hum of men talking and laughing downstairs with no idea he was here. It was hard to imagine why his master thought they would care, given how little they’d seemed to care about him when he was in their dungeon instead of their attic, but that was another thought that didn’t help.

He focused on breathing. He’d been left collared, but with his mouth uncovered. That, at least, he could live with. For now, he could live with that, and for now he needed not to think about what it meant to be able to live with it. He could calm down. He would calm down.

When he felt confident that the man wouldn’t return any time soon, he rose hesitantly to his feet, biting back a curse as straightening his battered knees sent pain shooting through him.

He felt weak and wobbly, but standing at all had been beyond him not so long ago, so he let himself stand still and breathe and wait for the uncertainty to pass, holding his arms out for balance like a toddler. Gods, what was he? How had he been one thing three days ago and become another so fast?

Stumbling over to his master’s desk was more instinct than strategy. It was solid, heavy, and the right height to help him keep upright. Once he was there, though, there was plenty to catch his eye. He moved some papers off of a map of the city, labeled with a set of symbols he couldn’t make heads or tails out of.

Swaying on his feet, he started rifling through the papers instead, and then the drawers, hoping for anything that jumped out as useful. He could tell he wasn’t thinking straight, that the fear and pain were clouding over his mind, but he forced himself to focus. If nothing else, he would focus his eyes on the pages. If nothing else, he would read the words enough times to know what they were about, generally. If nothing else, he would decide if the things were useful.

It was all slow, too slow, painfully slow, and he couldn’t stand for that long, sinking into his master’s chair almost without noticing.

He barely heard his master’s feet on the steps before the man arrived, and even with the spike of terror that hit him, his mind was too slow to react, and he had time to fling himself from the chair and onto the floor, but not the time to fix the papers that scattered with him.

“Wizard,” his master barked, the anger in his voice making Oswin curl up into himself on the ground. “Were you going through my things?”

Oswin’s mouth went dry, and the fog in his brain rose up to silence him, his mind too muffled to answer.

As his master’s booted feet came closer, it was all he could do to stammer out the truth - “Yes!”

The feet stopped, and Oswin didn’t have the courage to look up.

“What did you say?” the man asked, an edge of danger in his voice.

“Yes, master,” Oswin said, his voice so soft it almost gave out.

“And did I give you permission to go through my things?”

“No, master.”

Blank. Empty. Howling. Why wasn’t his brain more useful? Why couldn’t he think? Oswin realized he was breathing fast, too fast, fast enough to make his empty, foggy head start spinning on its axis. He pressed his forehead to the floor, hard, in the hope that it might stop the spinning.

His master’s feet were moving again, but even if he’d been fast enough to think of running, he couldn’t have known which way was away. He gasped for air, losing himself to the way the world reeled around him.

The quiet thud of his master’s knees landing on the floor beside him made Oswin flinch away, even as he struggled to make sense of it. A huge hand wrapped around the back of his neck, squeezing in a vague threat he felt more than he understood.

He looked up into his master’s eyes, unable to keep his own locked into the cold brown ones that seemed to spin along with the rest of the world, dizzying and impossible.

All of a sudden, his master released the back of his neck and felt his forehead instead.

“You’re not feverish,” he said, “Pull yourself together.”

The shove that sent Oswin sprawling was almost gentle, compared to most of what had come before it, and Oswin laid his head back down on the floor, trying to find words around his panting breaths. “Th-thank you, master.”

“The next time you touch something that isn’t yours without permission, I’ll crush your fingers under my boot.”

Oswin nodded, the motion making the vertigo worse. His chest hurt. Had his master done something to make his chest hurt? But no, that was him. His lungs. His heart. He felt like he’d messed up a lightning spell, like the energy running though him was too much, too fast, too dangerous.

The toe of his master’s boot pushed his chin away from his chest, and Oswin forced himself to look up at the man again, even as everything in front of his eyes continued to whirl.

“If you can look at things for yourself, you can look at them for me. Stand up.”

No. No, that wasn’t possible. For a moment Oswin didn’t move, but then his master’s face shifted, darkening, and Oswin fought his way through the spinning of the world and figured out how to move.

The floor was definitely down. The floor was down. He rolled onto his hands an knees, which meant his hands and knees were down and his head and back were up. He felt his stomach twist, but the good thing about not having eaten since yesterday was that there was nothing in there to rebel against the pain that still spiked with every twist of his back or the spinning of the world.

When he leaned back, onto just his knees, the spinning got worse, and he had to close his eyes.

His master grunted, displeased. “I said stand, pet.”

Oswin couldn’t nod. Couldn’t speak. He knew which way was which, as long as he didn’t think too hard about the spinning, as long as he didn’t try to look. He struggled to his feet, swaying as soon as he was upright.

His knees didn’t feel any better this time, but what was more pressing was that he could feel the world swinging around him, even with his eyes closed. He half-crouched, trying to give himself a wider base to keep from falling over.

Then his master’s hand was on his chin again, pulling Oswin’s face to tilt up towards his own. “Open your eyes.”

Oswin did, looking straight into those cold eyes, and even as he continued to feel everything whirl, whirl, whirl without stopping, his master’s eyes stayed perfectly steady.

Oswin reached up and grabbed his master’s forearm, moving on instinct before he could think about what he was doing.

“P-please Sir,” No. Wrong. Oswin took in a deep, shuddering breath and tried again, “Please, Master, make it stop!”

His voice sounded afraid, even more than he expected. Even more than he felt, because even the fear seemed blurry beneath the vertigo, like that too was wheeling around him at top speed.

His master sighed. His brow softened, the anger fading. The Captain’s eyes were still cold, still mean, but he was less dangerous now, had to be less dangerous when he wasn’t angry. Oswin started tearing up, his legs still shaking and his grip on his master’s arm still desperate.

His master’s other hand cupped his cheek, moving his face more gently this time.

“Make what stop, wizard? What have you done to yourself?”

“The spinning, master,” Oswin answered quietly. “Everything is spinning.”

The Captain scoffed, letting go of Oswin’s face with a little shove that, disoriented as he was, meant Oswin could only stay upright by closing his eyes again and clinging more tightly to the man’s arm.

“Lie down,” his master said, sounding vaguely disgusted. “You’ll look at things for me later. Get some rest.” He muttered something under his breath that Oswin only half-heard. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

It was a relief to let go of his master’s arm, as much as it made him feel unmoored in the time it took him to get carefully from his feet to the ground.

Everything still spun, but the pressure of the ground against his side was reassuring, more reassuring than being balanced on his feet.

“I’m going to leave some bread,” his master sad, “Don’t eat it until the spinning stops. If you vomit, I’ll make you lick it up.”

Oswin couldn’t bear to think of either the promise or the threat. Instead, he focused on the darkness inside his eyelids and tried, again, to get ahold of himself. His master’s footsteps sounded impossibly regular, descending the stairs, but when they were gone the world seemed even more impossible, somehow.

Everything was still spinning when he fell asleep, too exhausted for even the sense that he was about to fall to keep his frazzled nerves from giving out.

[whumpy-writings]

Fascinating

Febuwhump 2022 Masterlist / Of Vampires and Men Masterlist

Takes place immediately after A Drink

Febuwhump Day 13- Won't regain consciousness

CW: Vampires, slavery, drugging, blood, brief emeto mention, dizziness, biological warfare, pows, guilt, guns mentioned

“What the hell did you do to him?” Micah asked, panic in his voice. Travis was laying on the floor, his body trembling. Sweat poured down his body and Micah could smell his terror, along with an undercurrent of something bitter. Micah knelt down next to Travis and reached out a hand to feel his forehead. Travis’ skin was cool to the touch despite his sweating. The human’s eyes were closed and his breathing was shaky.

“Travis?” Micah said. Travis didn’t respond.

“Feed,” Weisman said from where he was leaning against the mantle, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. Micah snapped his head up, glaring at Weisman.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” he said. “He’s in no condition for that.” It was true. But also, Micah had a sneaking suspicion that he did not want to ingest whatever was flowing through Travis’ veins right now.

“Bite the damn blood bag, Byrnes,” Weisman said, his voice hard.

Micah knew better than to argue. It never ended well. He swallowed before leaning over Travis’ neck. He bit down, the flesh parting easily under his fangs as he injected some venom, hoping that it would calm the human’s terror. The blood that hit his tongue was so bitter Micah almost gagged. He tried to pull away but then Weisman’s hand was fisted in his hair, holding him down.

“Feed,” he said, and Micah had no choice but to swallow the blood. Travis had stilled, and though he was still sweating, the stench of fear wasn’t as strong. Micah choked down the bile rising in his throat as he drank more of the tainted blood.

“That’s enough,” Weisman said and Micah immediately dislodged his fangs from Travis’ neck, licking the wounds closed even as an uncomfortable warmth started to spread through his body. Micah looked up at Weisman, but his vision was going blurry and he fell to the ground. Micah closed his eyes against the world which was starting to spin around him.

“Fascinating,” Weisman said. Micah just groaned in response as another wave of dizziness hit him.

“W-what did you make me drink?” he asked shakily. He was sweating now and an ache was starting to settle into his muscles.

Weisman crouched down before him, stroking the hair back from where it was sticking against his forehead. His fingers were cold and they made Micah shiver and he tried to pull back. That earned him a slap across the face which made him gasp.

“It’s a little something that our scientists whipped up. A special concoction which renders human blood poisonous to vampires,” Weisman gave Micah a smile as he lifted his chin. “Oh, I wish I could see the look on the Torins’ faces when they wake up to find that their food supply is inedible.”

Micah’s eyes went wide, even as his drugged brain tried to keep up with what Weisman was saying. If the army couldn’t feed… well the war would be over in a matter of weeks.

“No, you can’t,” Micah slurred. This was wrong wrong wrong.

“We already have. Don’t worry, the effects are temporary. You’ll be able to feed from your little blood bag in a couple weeks.”

…

Micah didn’t realize he was crying when he and Travis were thrown back into their cell. The Lucians were going to win the war. They were going to decimate the Torin army, take their humans, burn everything to the ground. And there was nothing Micah could do to stop it.

Arms wrapped around him and Micah looked up to see Dimitri’s face.

“What can I do?” Dimitri asked softly.

“I’ll be fine,” Micah said, even as his head pounded and fire seemed to burn through his veins. “Can you make sure Travis is comfortable?”

Dimitri nodded and moved to wrap the human in a scratchy blanket. Travis was still asleep, periodically whimpering through the poison-induced pain. Micah couldn’t stand the sound. He slammed his hands over his ears and placed his head between his knees as tears poured down his face. He never should have surrendered to these monsters. A hand came to rest on his shoulders and he flinched back. He looked up at Aleksander who had crouched down next to him with a concerned look on his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Micah sobbed. “I should never have surrendered. And now we’re stuck in this hell and it’s all my fault, I’m so sorry, I’ve failed you all.”

Aleksander was saying something to him, but Micah couldn’t really hear him. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart, Travis’ whimpers, and yelling outside.

Wait, why were the Lucians yelling? Micah surged to his feet, shakily heading towards the door. He gave a scream of fright when the boom of a musket shattered the air. Then Micah fell to his knees in shock.

They were being rescued.

Tag list: @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whump-cravings @thecyrulik @neverthelass @michelleswhumpyreblogs @whumpsy-daisy @the-monarch-whumperfly @aswallowimprisoned @secretwhumplair @whumpzone @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @nicolepascaline @susiequaz12 @princessofonwardsworld @puffball-lover554 @itsleighlove @pumpkin-spice-whump @wiwinia @sunflower1000 @whump-blog @blushing-snail @melancholy-in-the-morning @pizzasthengym @suspicious-whumping-egg

[flameleadsarc]

Cont. | @alchemic-elric​

When he woke, the first thing he noticed was the soft surface underneath him. Blearily, he opened his eyes to find them directed at the ceiling of his bedroom. That... that wasn’t where he was last... was it? He remembered driving home, pulling the car into the driveway, opening the front door, and then... nothing. Hadn’t he walked into the hallway to take off his boots and coat before changing for dinner? His normal routine, albeit later than normal---hadn’t he followed it?

No, apparently not. Though, he seemed to be missing his boots, overcoat, and his uniform jacket. That would explain why he was so cold.

Sitting up hurt. Everything ached---or, so it felt as he unfurled his blue blanket over him. He didn’t remember coming into the bedroom after work, but maybe he did just to pass out for a bit. It had been an exceptionally long day, and him taking a short nap after he got home wasn’t abnormal. Edward understood what his job was like. He’d forgive him if he was a little late for dinner, right?

Intent on taking the blanket with him, he moved to try and get himself to stand. Best not to keep his family waiting.

[flameleadsarc]

Much to his chagrin, his fever persisted. Showering and putting on a fresh set of clothes didn’t help. All that seemed to do was make him even more tired than he already was. Eating what he could, which his almost nonexistent appetite wanted nothing to do with, didn’t give him that strength or energy back. It didn’t even help much with that dizziness. He had to cling to the wall when moving between his bed and the bathroom. God, how pathetic.

One thought persisted as he spent most of his time in bed. Every time his eldest came in to check on him, the voice behind it grew louder. 

“I’m useless to him like this.”

[a-dotrivenitupontop]

hey guys is it socially acceptable to miss a day of school due to random periods of dizziness where it feels like im running at 0.362 fps but also 3620001 fps at the same time to the point where it causes this physical almost painful sensation or should i just say i have depression