#oxygen deprivation

[aceofwhump]

Doctor Who 3x01 "Smith and Jones"

[jasmines-library]

Devil in Disguise

WHUMPTOBER DAY 29: Prompt ‘oxygen deprivation’

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: After escaping from the cage, Lucifer decides to pay Sam a visit, only he's not there. So he settles on the next best thing: you.

Warnings: Choking, near death

Word count: 1.2k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

No matter how many times you wished things would go your way, you never seemed to be that lucky. That was to say the least.

You were waiting antsily for your brothers to return, bouncing your leg restlessly and picking the thumb around your skin. They had only gone on a supply run; something they had done hundreds of times, but today something was different. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being followed. Every time you turned your back, you felt as though an invisible hand was trailing down your spine, but each time you turned to take a look, the feeling stopped. Perhaps it was to do with the face that Lucifer was back from the cage. 

It was an odd sensation. Seeing Lucifer possess your best friend. It was stranger to know what he was doing with his body too. The havoc and disruption he caused. You would have liked to have said that it got easier when he left Cas and returned to his first vessel, but then you were faced with the constant reminder of what he had done to Sam. You weren’t really sure which was worse. 

To try and take your mind off of things, you had settled down in the library with a book, A leather-bound copy of a handwritten journal that once belonged to a woman of letters. You had just settled into it when you heard it; a loud crash that thundered through the bunker. You had an unwanted visitor. 

Leaving the book on the armchair, you crept into the hallway, snagging a pistol that lay on the table on the way past. The good thing about the bunker was that it was crawling with weapons and you knew it like the back of your hand. But seemingly, so did the intruder. 

A cold hand wrapped its digits around your arm. You yelped as you were whipped around to face Lucifer. Tall and looming over you he grinned, flashing you his pearly teeth. 

“Hiya, Y/n?” He gave you a small wave. ��� d’ya miss little old me?”

You shoved him off, holding the gun out in front of you even though you knew that your actions would be in vain. “Get away from me.”

You tried to run further into the bunker, but were stopped by an invisible force, keeping your body in place as though you were surrounded by a block of concrete. “What do you want from me?” 

He shrugged, trailing a slender finger along your jaw. “Can’t I pay a Winchester a visit?”

You gave him a firm look. 

“Okay. Fine.” He chewed the inside of his lip. “I got bored. All this hopping around… i'd got nothing to do. But now I’m back in good ol’ Nick. Well. I thought it would be nice to see some old friends. Maybe take Sammy on a little trip down memory lane. But it seems he’s not here right now. Isn’t that right?”

You didn’t respond. You just grimaced as he took your jaw in his grip and forced you to face him. You tried to squirm but were held still. 

“So, It looks like I'll just have to deal with the next best thing.”

You didn’t have a chance to react as he flung you against the wall, your head snacking against the blue tiles, helpless as you felt the invisible force squeeze you against the wall. 

“Let me go.” You demanded, desperately trying to pry your limbs away from the tile. 

Lucifer just pursed his lips. “Hm. I think this is much more interesting.”

“Sam and Dean’ll be back at any moment and then you’ll be a dead-”

Suddenly an invisible hand wrapped its way around your neck. “You talk too much.

You dropped to the floor, clawing at your neck as you tried to relieve some of the pressure that was crushing your windpipe like it was a can. You gasped and stuttered, trying to hungrily suck in air that refused to pass into your lungs. The agony that blossomed from them was unbearable; fiery and raw. 

Lucifer just smirked as he watched you struggle, tightening his mercilessly around your throat. 

Your chest constricted with fear. You had never imagined you would go down like this. For years you had believed you would go swinging. Never alone and without saying goodbye to your brothers. You flailed wildly as black spots swirled in your vision, and everything faded in and out.Your shoes slipped against the floor, struggling to find a grip on anything in your panic-filled reverie. That was until it stopped. 

Lucifer’s clutch on you vanished as your two brothers stormed into the bunker, noticing your absence. It was then that he heard the struggle coming from the halls. They had never moved faster than they did as they raced towards you, catching the devil off guard and after some struggle managed to restrain him with the cuffs. 

Sam was at your side in a second, squatting besides you. He placed his hands on your shoulder and forced you to look at him with your wide eyes. You were hyperventilating, breaths coming in short and desperate gasps. 

“Hey, Hey. Kiddo. Look at me.” You watched him carefully. Observing the way that his hair framed his face. “Follow my breathing.”

You took in a shaky, but deeper breath feeling the air rush into your lungs. You tried to follow your brother's breathing until yours settled into an even rhythm. 

“That’s it kid. You’re okay. We’re here.”

He wiped the stray tears that had fallen from your eyes and brough your head to his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. You curled up tightly on his lap like you used to do when you were a small child afraid of the monsters that lurked under your bed. You leaned into his warmth, seeking solace in his cologne. 

“You’re okay kid.” He mumbled into your hair, threading your hair through his fingers. He eased you up into his arms and carried you off down the hall. When you dared peak over his shoulder, you noticed that Lucifer was nowhere to be seen. It was likely that Dean had forced him into the dungeon, but you clung closer to Sam just in case. 

He then eased open the heavy door with a creak and crossed the room in two large strides to lay you down on the comforter,Your head snapped up when he stepped away for a moment, panic clutching you tightly again.

You sniffled. “Sammy?”

“I’m here.” He said, returning moments later with Dean who had managed to slip in through the door at some point. 

He perched on the end of the bed. “Hey sweetheart.” He pulled you in close to his chest as his brother came round to sit on your other side. 

“You’re okay sweetheart.” Sam soothed. “He can’t get you anymore. No one is going to hurt you.”

You shuffled in closer to them, as exhaustion began to settle over your body. 

“Why don’t you try and get some rest, kiddo?”

You nodded hesitantly. “Stay with me? Please.”

Dean pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Of course sweetheart. We’re not going anywhere.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 28 ⛤ DAY 30 ->

taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 27

This was like the second to last piece I wrote, I just love a good scary ransom c:<

TWs: Muzzles, face whump (hooks in the muzzle), kidnapping, oxygen deprivation/suffocation, captivity, ransom, beating, tazing

Voiceless | Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

Mariano's entire face hurt. It had been hurting for as long as his wrists had, shackled to the wall as they were. He didn't know if it would ever really stop.

The hooks in the muzzle had bitten into his skin, into the muscle underneath, from the moment it had been locked around his head. The leather was unforgiving, stiff and sharp where the edges dug into him. Breathing felt impossible.

It wasn't, really.

He could inhale. He could exhale. It was slow, far too slow, and it wasn't enough.

But it was possible if he focused.

Possible didn't mean comfortable or easy, though, and the way it made his chest ache was only second to the muzzle hooks. The concrete he was forced to slump against was solidly in third place, he'd decided. There wasn't enough slack in his restraints to stand or sit, so he was caught in a miserable kneel between the two positions.

Mariano's head spun, as it had been doing since a minute and a half after the muzzle had locked into place.

It wasn't going to stop, none of it would. Not until his dragon came to him. Not until his favorite medic got to him. Not until the voice of one of his boyfriends were there.

But that meant that he just had to hold on. Mariano could do that. He could keep breathing.

Even if every breath made fire rip through his face, he would. The hooks embedded in his skin gnawed at him, made his head throb. It made him groan into the silence of his cell.

Was it getting darker? It looked like it was. Mariano's lips tickled as sweat poured over his skin and invaded his mouth. It crept further, down his chin, into the line the unforgiving leather cut into him.

It stung, fresh and sharp and bright with every drip. Mariano tried to breathe deeper, only to have the muzzle seal itself shut. His chest tightened and the room swayed harder under his knees.

He breathed out, and the leather relaxed again. Air escaped. This time, he took a slower inhale.

Relief. Not much, but some. It would have to be enough for the moment. Mariano took another slow, shallow breath.

Mariano opened his eyes to a hand in his hair and a sharp crack of a palm across the muzzle. When had his captor gotten there? When had he fainted? The man looked down at him, eyes wild with some emotion Mariano couldn't have named even if he wasn't oxygen deprived.

"Wake up--" He snarled, and Mariano blinked at him slowly. "You're not going to die on me yet."

Had he been dying? He didn't feel like he was. He never did, though. Mariano winced as the man released his hair, grabbed the muzzle, and forced his chin up.

The hooks dug into Mariano harder, but it did allow more air into the muzzle. He gasped greedily before he could stop himself. Another blow landed against the muzzle, ripping a hoarse noise from him.

It echoed inside the leather.

"Look at me." The man growled, snapping his fingers in front of Mariano's face. "We're going to send proof of life to your little friends, and for that you have to look alive."

He held the muzzle firmly then squeezed down on the end of it, forcing the tiny opening at the nose even wider. Mariano's eyes fluttered as he choked on the fresh air, and the man released him with a growl after a few breaths.

A light flicked on, illuminating the concrete floor stained with black blood. Mariano dimly remembered that being his. The man's hand grabbed his hair again, tangling in blood-matted curls and forcing him to look into the light as a phone was shoved in his face. "Say hello to your people, mage."

Mariano tried to mumble something, all his words running together into mush. The leather only distorted them further. What had he even been trying to say? Mariano couldn't remember.

He had even less of a chance to remember when a fist hit him in the jaw, wrenching a ragged shout from him. "If you want him back in one piece," The man panted, starting to rain down blows. "You'll wire me my fucking money." He didn't stop, punctuating every word with another hit to Mariano's head. "I know you have it--one of you is a dragon."

"And if you don't get moving," He said, reaching for something at his belt. "Well, you'll have a lot more work ahead of you to bring him home alive."

Mariano didn't understand the flickering light he saw was a taser until it jammed into his throat and the room went fully dark.

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper

@bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @whumpbees @painful-pooch

[whumpingwho]

Enlightenment - Season 20

[whumpster-dumpster]

How long do you think a mermaid can survive out of water? I'm thinking where they have absolutely no contact with water as well. Also what do you think the symptoms would be for that sort of thing? Thank you!

It depends on several factors such as their size (larger body lets them maintain oxygen levels for more extended periods than smaller fish), their species (amphibious fish and brackish water fish can survive much longer than freshwater), what kind of surface they land on (more absorbent surface means more moisture being sapped away and therefore shorter survival time), etc.

With those things in mind, an average fish may optimistically survive anywhere from a couple of hours or just ten minutes if they have no help or access to water. They would probably feel the effects of:

Dehydration: thirst, dizziness, fatigue, headaches, dry mouth/lips/eyes

Oxygen deprivation: restlessness, anxiety, headaches, confusion, rapid heart rate, difficulty breathing, bluish skin

And heat-related illness: [x]

[arecaceae175]

if youre still doing them, unconscious for the three sentence fics! (as a continuation to running out of time) ❤️

(Continuation of running out of time)

“Hurry!” Wild yelled, even though it left his gasping for air. He put one hand on his throat and left the other wrapped around Sky’s limp shoulders.

The other heroes were close. Wild could finally hear them. They had to be careful not to collapse the cave further, but Wild’s heart beat faster with every passing second.

“Is Sky with you?” Someone yelled. Wild barely heard it through the rocks. He sucked in as deep a breath as he could, but was overcome by a fit of coughing. Wild was left gasping, black spots dancing in his vision, and he felt himself leaning more heavily against Sky.

Was there a question? Why was he trying to talk?

“Champion!”

The yell pulled Wild out of the haze. He blinked his eyes rapidly and tried to control his breathing.

“Is Sky with you?”

Wild blearily looked at Sky. He was curled up at Wild’s side, and if Wild didn’t look too closely at his blue lips Sky almost looked peacefully asleep.

“Wild, are you there? Is Sky with you?”

The voice sounded stressed. Maybe Wild could help. Wild shook his head to clear his foggy mind and allowed himself three full breaths before he answered. “Unconscious,” he yelled as loud as he could.

There was a response, Wild thought, but he was too tired to make it out. Wild let his eyes slip shut and head rest on Sky’s. The other heroes would be here soon; surely a nap wouldn’t hurt.

(Next part ->)

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #986

Your whumpee is kidnapped but is forced to wear a full-face oxygen mask (think: Avatar) that supplies them with surprise sedatives/actual oxygen. The air quality in the room is so low that If they take it off, they can hardly breathe. The torturer also delights in restricting oxygen flow to the mask whenever they feel like it. This could lead to brain damage/cerebral hypoxia/confusion etc)

(Maybe the pipe supplying oxygen is very short from where it leads through a grate in the wall, so the whumpee had limited movement to get comfortable)

[pinniepon]

Me (just brought mario from hit video game mario to real life):Okay and then basically they shot the Romanovs and threw their bodies in a ditch, but they weren't all in the same ditch and- are you listening?

Mario: oh mamma mia! Serves a those filthy communists a right

Me: what

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Focus

Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 28. Set in my Magic AU. A successful spell of any kind requires concentration, something Hiccup lacks. Unfortunately, when he finds his focus, it’s on the wrong thing entirely.

Warning: /

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Hiccup, Snotlout, Astrid, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs, Viggo

Pairing: Slight Hiccstrid, Slight Vigcup

Words: 1 708

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Oxygen Deprivation, Sweating

Whumpee: Snotlout, Hiccup

Author’s Notes: Honestly love writing for this AU. And glad to add some Snotlout whump to this year's AI-less Whumptober!

Enjoy!

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

For as long as he’s been here, Viggo has been a mystery to Hiccup and he figures he always will be. One moment, the man has all the patience in the world for him and seeks to tutor him personally. The next, Hiccup is a stain on his existence. It’s a confusing dynamic that they have, one he doesn’t appear to have with anyone else in this castle.

“Take something and focus your magic for once in your life. Try the spinning top, maybe a child’s toy will finally help you grasp the basics!

Clearly, Viggo has never met an actual child before. But it is the reason why he had to go all the way down into the dungeon- now a place where artifacts and other nick-nacks are stored- to grab a child’s toy that hasn’t seen the light since the 1800s to practice his focus on. Because the key to a successful enchantment is focus, something Hiccup severely lacks. He blames the neurodivergency.

It’s lunchtime, but instead of taking a break, he’s taken the toy with him to the dining hall, where he sits at the table and, in every sense of the word, embarrasses himself in front of his newfound friend group.

“Oh, come on! Work with me here!” Hiccup moans in annoyance as he spins it only to watch it come to a slow stop, dashing whatever little hope he has. The point is to keep it spinning. Spinning, spinning, spinning, and spinning, for however long his concentration lasts. Endless motion.

Snotlout snickers. “This is just painful.”

Astrid kicks him underneath the table, he jumps and spills his soup. Ruffnut protests loudly when some of it splashes onto her pile of sandwiches.

“Maybe you’re not saying it correctly?” Fishlegs gently offers.

“Uh, Mr. Amazing over there? Mr. I’m-Awesome-At-Everything-I-Do? I thought he didn’t need to incant stuff?” Snotlout comes again as he uses his one napkin to clean it up. “No magic outside of class,” Viggo always says, but he’s pretty sure that rule only applies to him and the twins.

“Maybe you lack intent?” Astrid offers.

“I’m not sure what other intent besides “spin you stupid thing!” I can give it. I’m intenting the crap out of it! I’m going to be stuck at the basics forever,” Hiccup deflates.

Snotlout snickers again. “All the power in the world, still sucks.”

“Don’t you have soup to clean up?!” Astrid asks him, arms crossing.

“Uh, and who’s the reason I have soup to clean up?”

“Just go grab more napkins. Maybe it’s your unbelievably loud slurping that keeps distracting him,” she crosses her arms and Snotlout sends her a glare.

But it’s true. Partially. Hiccup can’t focus in the dining hall, but he couldn’t focus in the classroom either. There was this fly that kept buzzing around the room, coming close and then flying out of reach. His senses have always felt like they’re dialed up to 11, that’s just how his brain works, but it’s ten times worse when he’s trying to focus his magic on anything.

Hiccup brings his attention back on the top. Instead of spinning it beforehand, he lets it lie and tries to make it move that way. His fingers press against his temples, elbows on the table, as he glares at it as if it’ll help.

But the table doesn’t remain quiet, Snotlout gives him a glare and snickers before Astrid kicks him.

“Maybe it’s your nagging.”

“Maybe it’s your face!”

“Maybe it’s your face!”

“Maybe you should just shut up, Snotlout! As a matter of fact, stop breathing! Just stop breathing in my general direction so I can finally concentrate!” Hiccup snaps at only one arguing half. It’s true that Snotlout’s constant slurping was also throwing him off. He knows he was doing it on purpose, he likes to make things hard for him.

Hiccup focuses back on the top, willing it to spin, but still nothing happens. He doesn’t understand why. He can feel the magic in his veins thrilling, reacting to his command, so why won’t the top just do as he asks?

“Hey-” Astrid comes.

“Astrid, not now,” what if he just glares really hard? Maybe that will help.

“No, seriously, you need to stop.”

“And I need every noise in the world to stop.”

“H-man, look at what you’re doing!” Tuffnut comes, sitting directly across from Snotlout.

“No, look!” Fishlegs yells and Hiccup just barely avoids a soup bowl thrown at his head.

Now standing, he looks at Snotlout to find his hands around his throat in a struggle. He makes no sound as he’s not getting any air. He’s not even choking, he’s simply not breathing.

“Hey, come on, man! Stop!” Ruffnut yells at him, also rising to her feet.

“I-I-I’m- I’m not-”

“Yes, you are!” Astrid states as she stands and grabs Hiccup’s hands. “Come on, you can do this. Just break your hold on him.”

“What do you mean “just break my hold on him?” I have no idea how I’m even doing this!” Comes Hiccup’s panicked reply.

In a frenzy, Snotlout jumps up from his seat and slams a fist on the table. He looks like he’s trying to make his lungs work, but it’s as if they’ve forgotten how to. Others in the dining hall watch them, whispering.

“Come on, Snotlout, breathe. Just breathe,” Fishlegs comes over and throws an arm around him. Ruffnut stands on his other side while Tuffnut kneels in front.

“Just do what we do!” He says as he and his sister breathe in and out in an exaggerated manner.

“None of that will help! The spell needs to be broken!”

Hiccup looks at each of his friends, panic causing his heart to race. He can’t focus, he can’t break anything.

And there Astrid goes, out the door. Saying something about Viggo, she bolts as fast as her athletic legs can carry her.

“Come on, man! You’re the one doing this!” One knows they’ve messed up when even Tuffnut is seriously mad.

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” He yells, hands in his hair.

Snotlout’s face turns a deep blue, he pounds on his own chest, but still his lungs won’t work. In Fishlegs’ arms he goes limp.

“Snotlout, no!” he yells, holding him up. All Hiccup can do is watch on in horror. “Hiccup, just stop!”

Hurried footsteps enter the dining hall. A large hand settles on Hiccup’s forehead from behind, the owner mutters an incantation about sleep, and his consciousness fades. Eyes rolling back, legs going limp, Viggo catches the young man and gently lowers him to the floor.

A dramatic gasp fills the dining hall, Snotlout finally takes his first breathe in what feels like an eternity. Without the strength to stand on his own two feet, he hangs onto Fishlegs sluggishly, barely conscious himself. Relief sweeps through the hall.

“Now would someone be so willing to tell me what in the Hell happened here?” Viggo is beyond angry, as he usually is whenever something of this magnitude goes wrong.

No one answers simply because they don’t know how to. They were eating, there was some banter and arguing, and the next thing they know Hiccup was passively choking the life out of Snotlout.

Viggo breathes through his teeth, realizing that his students don’t quite know how to answer that.

“Fools, all of you,” he mutters before taking off his dark blue vest to fold up and place beneath Hiccup’s head. It shouldn’t take too long for him to wake up.

Fishlegs helps Snotlout sit on a chair as he catches his breath. His lungs are burning, his body is weak, and the most terrible headache he’s ever experienced pounds inside his skull.

“He was… trying to kill me!” He gasps, a hand still on his chest.

“He wasn’t trying to kill you,” Viggo bites back at him. He was nose deep in a book when Astrid came bursting into his room and disturbed his peace.

“Sir, what did happen?” Astrid asks. She figures they’re all dying to know. How could Hiccup just enchant Snotlout like that and how did his hold on him not break? He was panicking just as much as the rest of them, probably even more so.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Viggo asks. “Our dear friend focused his magic on the wrong target. And instead of breaking his hold, his panic strengthened it.”

In a way, it makes sense, or so they suppose. Heavy emotions can make or break a spell.

“Take Snotlout to the infirmary. I’ll wait for him to awaken,” their mentor orders, referring to Hiccup, and they listen. While Fishlegs and Tuffnut take their shaken friend away, Astrid and Ruffnut are urged to follow. Astrid shoots a glance at Hiccup behind her.

In time, the entire dining hall runs empty of guests, leaving just the two of them.

It takes a couple of minutes longer, but Hiccup eventually comes to. He’s understandably sluggish as he awakens from a brief sleep put upon him by magical means.

“Viggo?” He’s confused to see him at first, but as the events preceding his passing out return to him, he sits up in a hurry.

“Snotlout! What-what happened to him? Is he- is he okay?!” He asks his mentor, who raises a hand to silence him.

“Snotlout was taken to the infirmary, but I suspect he’ll make a full recovery. You have nothing to worry about,” he assures him.

Hiccup sighs and pulls his knees up, settling his elbows on them and a hand in his hair. He wouldn’t exactly say that he has nothing to worry about. He almost killed Snotlout! By accident!

Viggo lays a hand on his shoulder and once again he’s showing a side to him that the others don’t get to see much. Or at all.

“You’ll learn to control it,” there’s almost confidence in his statement, but Hiccup isn’t sure how that will ever happen.

“Sure, like I haven’t been trying to learn my entire life,” he mutters as he rises to his feet. Viggo watches him leave, expression unreadable. The dining hall behind him, Hiccup retreats to his room, unsure how he’s going to face anyone ever again.

[aceofwhump]

National Treasure: Edge of History - 1x04

Jess Valenzuela and Riley Poole get trapped inside a locked secret room that is slowly losing oxygen. The two of them must figure out the passcodes in order to unlock the door and escape before they die from oxygen deprivation.

A/N: I was very excited not only to see Riley again but also whump!? Love it! Had to gif all of this

[whumpookies]

Aşk-ı Memnu 56. Bölüm

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whump Prompt 133

Write something inspired by this concept:

A vampire punishes their personal human bloodbag by locking the human in their own coffin for hours at a time with barely any air.

Unfortunately, being locked in a coffin only serves to make the human panic and his blood taste bad. Funny what coffin-time can do to a person.

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumpril 2024 - Day 6 - Dizziness

Look I think Mariano just thinks that being dizzy is fun, that's my one explanation for how he gets when he's drunk or oxygen deprived

TWs: suffocation, oxygen deprivation in a controlled environment, lab-whump adjacent but it's the military, a mage gets flustered about oxygen dep (but it's safe for work, he's just blushy)

Luis tapped his fingers against his arm, watching through the window of the testing room. They didn’t need to be sequestered away for this one–all advanced soldiers going to specialized branches would go through it eventually. Laredo sat at a school desk, leaned over the worksheet he’d been given. He tapped the mechanical pencil against his lips, pausing before circling another answer. 

Luis’ eyes flicked to the monitor in Manuel’s hands. His oxygen saturation was still respectable. He was halfway done with the sheet. 

“Thoughts?” He asked, looking to Manuel. 

Manuel hummed, glancing back to where Izan and Dimitri were sitting in the hallway, oxygen masks strapped to their faces. Their lips were still paler than either Luis or Manuel would’ve preferred, but they were recovering nicely. “I think he’s doing fine so far. He seems calmer than Dimitri was, and he’s matching my pace, at least.” 

“I agree.” Luis said. “And none of you have anything else to do today or tomorrow, as discussed. Just recovery.”

Manuel smiled, bright and quick. “Thank you for readjusting the schedule. Especially with how Laredo’s heart gets sometimes, I just don’t think it’d be wise for anyone to be doing a ton of cardio for a little while.”

“Of course. Thank you for staying on top of things.” 

The numbers on the monitor flashed yellow, cutting Manuel off from what he was going to say. He squinted at Laredo, whose writing had slowed down. He was starting to tilt to one side. “Ah, there it is.” Manuel said, marking down the time. “I wonder if he’ll be as coherent after this point?”

Dimitri spoke up, pulling the oxygen mask away for a moment. “If he’s more coherent than me on the third essay question I’ll fry his controller.”

“Keep breathing, Dimitri.” Luis scolded, shaking his head. 

They watched the seconds tick by, melting into minutes. Laredo tipped further and further, before eventually falling completely to the floor on his side, pencil dropping beside him. “Time! Releasing the seal.” Luis announced, unlatching the door and letting oxygen rush back in. 

He watched as Manuel hurried inside with the third of four oxygen tanks, kneeling and pressing the mask to Laredo’s face. He leaned down and spoke to him, patting his face to help him wake up. Just as Luis was starting to worry, Laredo jolted up with a groan and scrambled to his elbows, drawing a sincere laugh from Manuel and a gentle pat of his shoulder. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Izan felt the same way. Nice and slow, now, your brain is still restarting.” 

When Laredo could stand he let Manuel help him from the classroom, face red and unable to look Luis in the eye. “Alright Mariano,” Luis said, pointedly ignoring the way Izan elbowed Laredo’s bicep. “Your turn, then we can go back.” 

Mariano nodded, stepping inside the room and taking the last fresh worksheet. He picked up the pencil, sat down, and watched the window for his signal. When Luis resealed the door and the air began to drain from the room, Manuel waved a hand and gave Mariano a thumbs-up. The timer began to count.

The first few minutes were entirely uneventful, with Mariano steadily working his way down the page. He didn’t seem to stumble on anything in the first half, but when the oxygen reached its lowest point and his breathing started to get strained, Luis watched the youngest member seem to shift. 

Always so stoic and almost-uptight, he’d expected Mariano to get frustrated like Dimitri did. He expected agitated fingers running through dark hair, brows furrowed as his brain stopped being able to process things as easily. He expected a deep frown, or a scowl.

Instead, tension began to fall away from Mariano’s shoulders. He leaned against the top of the desk more, tilting his head almost lazily as he reread the last question on that side and underlined a part of it. He tapped the pencil against the paper, drawing a looping, repeating shape in the margin as he thought. When he finally seemed to have an answer, he just drew the line to the beginning of his sentence without picking up his pencil. 

Luis watched him flip the worksheet over to the math portion–Mariano loved math, Luis realized, because he beamed. His elevated mood seemed to be more than just subject-related though, because as he wrote in the section where his name went and drew another set of circles next to it, he started shaking and covering his mouth. 

Laughing, Luis realized. Something about this tickled Mariano to his very core, even as he started filling in the math questions. Every time it seemed like the giggle fit was over, it would rear its head again and he’d double over, head against the desk, and his shoulders would just shake. 

“How are his levels?” Luis asked, grinning himself. 

It seemed like it wasn’t just Luis who found it contagious, since Manuel was fighting to keep his expression even. “In the yellow, and dropping, but at least he’s still in a good mood.” Mariano had just decided to keep his head on the desk as he wrote, glasses tilted from the pressure against the hard surface.

As his hypoxia continued, Mariano tried to pick himself up. He’d almost finished both sides, on par with the others. He glanced back up at the top of the paper though, and that seemed to fully do him in. He started laughing again, a faint, wheezy thing where every inhale was a desperate struggle. 

He just couldn’t get any more air, though, and with his eyes fluttering he slumped into unconsciousness against the desk, pencil rolling to the floor. 

“Alright, time. Releasing the seal.” Luis repeated the process from earlier, and as oxygen rushed back in, Luis accompanied Manuel inside. He had to see what had gotten Mariano so giggly. As he helped Mariano to the floor and Manuel got the mask on his face, Luis got a peek at the paper. 

Instead of his name, in not-cursive lettering that gradually dipped beneath the line, he’d accidentally written “Marimo”, then drew a wobbly circle nearby, with tinier circles coming up from it, and a little simple smiling face. As Mariano groaned and started to wake up again, Luis folded up the paper and pocketed it. That had been the happiest he’d ever seen Mariano, especially since joining the war mage program.

He almost wondered if a moss ball in a tiny aquarium would be a decent birthday gift for the teenager.

@cyberwhumper @whumperofworlds @inscrutable-shadow @honeybees-125 @bxtterflystxtches @lektricwhump (SORRY LEKTRIC-WHUMP I'M SURE YOU'RE SUPER COOL)

[bltzgore]

Tw: lab rat whumpee, oxygen deprivation, nonhuman whumpee, lab whump, mention of vivisection

He’s never seen anything outside of the lab, he likes to pretend he has. He likes to pretend that the pictures of trees or the sun he’s memorized are flashes of things he saw once when he was little, not photos the lab coats have hung up in their offices. He likes to pretend the one or two scars he can’t account for are from when he scratched himself on bushes or fell when trying to climb trees when he was little. Because he must have had a life outside of the lab, he must have. He wasn’t bred here, he wasn’t born here. He had a life before the lab.

The guards drag him from his cage. It’s made of all bars, no privacy. They only give him a pair of black shorts, it is cold in the lab.

He swears profusely at them. These are all words he learned from the lab coats when things go wrong. This word he heard when one of them stubbed their toe, that one he learned when they didn’t get the test results they had wanted, and he learned the big one when they accidentally cut the wrong part of his chest open. Now he uses them freely, the scientist don’t seem to care. He wonders if it’s worth doing anymore, then he tells one of the scientists to go choke on a mammoth ass and remembers that it is.

They fumble for a second, one of the guards hits him hard in the stomach and he crumbles for a second.

“Hey! You can’t do that! This subject is about to enter second phase testing! They need him at his strongest.”

He’s heard the lab coats talk about phases of testing before, there were three. But he never got enough context in one of those conversations to understand what it meant. 

They lead him to a room, one of the walls is clear, made of plexiglass or something stronger. He’s tried to break it before, it didn’t work. Even with his scales tough enough to let him hit harder, never so much as a crack. The room is made for observation and testing, so it’s equipped with a microphone and several cameras. He idly wonders what they’re going to test today as the door shuts him in the room.

Observers collect on the other side, five of them. Four of them have chairs and clipboards, and one of them stands at a control panel. One of them seems to give him the go ahead and he presses a button. Something immediately starts hissing. 

He waits for it, the cold, or the heat, or the pain. Something to kick in and test his will to live, to make him feel crazier for hanging on than he already does. He waits a few minutes, nothing happens. He heads up to the glass and knocks on it, “Hey docs? Your equipment broken or something?” He mocks, it feels good, but then he starts to notice it. 

He’s breathing heavier. Why is he breathing heavier? He’s been standing around this whole time doing nothing. What was that hissing? Were they stealing the oxygen? Pumping the room full of poison gas? What!? His head is getting foggier, a dull ache setting in, his chest isn’t quite heaving yet, but it’s getting worse so much faster than he expected. 

The next second he can think he’s on his knees sucking in air with shuttering breaths, getting nothing. He can huff and puff all he likes, the oxygen levels in the room aren’t going up any time soon. His thoughts are all winding together, a blurry soup of a brain, he’s can’t quite figure out what’s happening. Why can’t he breathe!?

He’s on the ground now. Like a fish on a doc, gasping futilely is the only motion he can manage anymore. His vision is graying, his eyes are tearing. He’s scared, they’re supposed to need him alive right? They need him alive don’t they?! 

He can’t get enough air to call to them, to ask them, to-to ask them… ask… please… I can’t brea-th… Help- The world falls away from him in jagged motions, as if he had been subconsciously trying to hold on. But it feels as if just as jaggedly his life is rammed back into his hands, cutting them.  

His chest fills with so much air it feels like he’s going to burst. He almost tries not to let it out, afraid he’s not going to get another chance like this. There’s a steady voice, telling him to breathe, but he doesn’t trust it. He tries to hold in the precious air as long as he can, but he just passed out and had his heart jump started, so it isn’t long. He breaths out but finds his chest won’t let him hold his breath again. He’s forced into heavy deep breaths by some survival instinct. The voice tells him he’s doing good, and the subject finds wants to hurt the owner of that voice. He tries to raise his hand, he can’t, it’s cuffed, cuffed to the table. He’s on the table. There’s a stiff strike of fear through his spine, spider webbing out through his upper body. Is he getting cut open again?

He cranes his neck, as he moves he notices there’s an oxygen mask over his face, but he doesn’t give that much attention. He is too busy trying to figure out if there’s a scientist around with a scalpel hungry to search his innards. When he doesn’t find one he lets his head back down. He’s not safe, he’s never safe here, but for now at least, he can rest.

[rosieblogstuff]

No Oxygen Weekend - Feb 4 & 5

I’m making a bid to make it No Oxygen for Mac Challenge Weekend in honor of the anniversary of @anguishmacgyver’s fantastic gifset Mac's complicated relationship with oxygen AND ALSO apparently this moment in 5x07 that aired on Feb 5 ... Anyway, here is a celebratory drabble. PLEASE JUMP IN! The more drabbles the better!

----

Getting out of the rocking boat with hands tied behind his back was easier said than done. Mac couldn’t seem to catch his balance. His right foot, seeking purchase, came down on the side of an algae-covered rock just as he put his weight on it. Unable to grab for anything or even spread his arms, he went down hard, his fall cushioned by the foot or so of water he was standing in. He blinked as water covered his head, holding his breath, blinking his eyes open to see the surface of the water just above him.

He started to roll to the side to sit himself up when a rough hand broke the surface above him, fingers reaching. Instead of pulling him up, it pushed him down deeper. His head knocked against one of the underwater rocks with a sharp blow and then next thing he knew he was inhaling–or trying to. He could see the sky wavering through the water’s surface, a foot above his nose and mouth. Oxygen, so close, but all that entered his lungs was seawater.

He choked, writhing away from the hand, struggling against the rope around his wrists and kicking out, trying anything, but the hand had a hold on his shirt and he couldn’t reach anything and he had to breath—

The hand jerked him upward and his face broke the surface again. Water cascaded everyone, down his head, out of his lungs as he gagged. There was a ruckus somewhere but it was all he could do to stay upright as he choked on seawater. If someone wasn’t still holding him upright, he’d have fallen back into the water while he body tried desperately to rid itself of all the water and suck in air.

The water was warm around him and the surface under him was bumpy and uneven, but mostly smooth. He focused on the sensation, trying to ground himself.

“Mac! Mac!” Jack’s voice, from above him, sounded frantic. “Mac, you okay?”

Still coughing and wheezing, he managed to look up. Jack was still in the boat but looked like he’d have plunged out already if not for the two beefy men holding him back. 

Mac coughed once and nodded his head a bit as drops of water ran down from his head. That was a mistake: he could feel the ache where he’d hit his head. He was too wet to tell if it was bleeding and if they pushed him under again—he shuddered, feeling the burn of water still in his lungs.

“Up,” said the goon who’d pulled him up. His hand under Mac’s arm was firm. Mac let the hand guide him upward and went in the direction the man pointed, making his way more carefully out of the water to the strip of rocky beach above the current water level. 

---

[whump-ventures]

Return to Kethrys

-had a sudden burst of inspiration for this world as a whole and some old characters are getting a revival. Most of them are changing quite a bit (even though if anyone remembers my bastard Edwyn he's not changing much at all and I'm excited to bring him back). Similar world, new plot, similar characters, and a lot of new ones! Should be fun, and hopefully I actually get around to writing since I wrote maybe one (1) drabble last year.

~~~

Clawing her way to consciousness has never been this difficult, but her memory has never been quite as fractured either.

She doesn’t blink open her eyes just yet, letting the other senses gather information. The air is heavy and stale, a far cry from the crisp and clean mountain air that she’s familiar with. The smells are confusing- rats, she can smell and hear their warm bodies snuffling along the ground, humans as well, and hay. An odd combination, especially with some of the humans seemingly healthy- but others not so much. And above all there is the overwhelming smell and taste of metal and stone surrounding her.

Footsteps, from far down the hall. A soft clinking a hundred or so yards away. She’s certain that the stale taste in the air means that they are deep underground, but even here she can hear the faintest song of the wind. Curious- like an opening to the world in such a foreign place-

A miniscule twist of her head and a sudden striking realization that she isn’t in the right form. Arms and hands tied- no, bound- by harsh metal that is behind her back and attached to the wall. Her legs and feet folded underneath her, and there's a deep ache which means she must have been kneeling in this position for quite some time now. She can feel the biting cold through her wrists and on her shins, which is another sure sign of her flimsy human skin, not tough and beautiful scales that can stop even the most deadly weapon.

She would never contain herself to this body unless… unless someone with wards forced her into it.

Silver eyes flash open with a snarl, teeth bared ready for a fight.

There is no foe in front of her. She twists her head to each side, tongue flicking out to taste the air. It’s dark in the- cave?- but her predatory eyes adjust in an instant, adding to her already confusing intel. She wills her body to grow and shift, needing to be rid of this weak and useless body and back into the one that she belongs in: With wings that stretch with scales of glittering obsidian, fangs that are longer than some men are tall, claws that rip and shred with ease. Yet the attempt is met with a harsh flash of light from behind her, and her transformation runs into a wall of stone. Try as she might, the effort to become herself again is met with nothing but exhaustion.

None of this makes sense. In one last effort, her legs bend underneath her, trying to push her to her feet. But the metal bites, bites like a snake in the grass, and tugs her back down to the ground. Another snarl and a twist to fight, and it bites into her again, causing her to growl in a combination of pain and frustration. The claws and fangs that remain in this form are much smaller, practically useless against metal. After a brief moment of struggle to get away from the snake-metal, she finally stops with a hiss, panting in her frustrations.

How did she get here? In this deep cave, surrounded by trees of metal, with hurt humans and healthy humans both off in the distance? Where even is… here? And what is this place? Too many unanswered questions as her breathing slowly returns to normal- or as normal as it can get in this nasty stale air that has no hint of freedom, no taste of sun or grass or the moon or stars. Cold and unforgiving stone, not covered in a perfect layer of snow, not gleaming under the light from above, more stone blocking her from the world above. A dark and terrible place, and one that she has no recognition of. All she knows is that she is very far from where she belongs.

So lost in her thoughts and confusion, that she almost misses the footsteps approaching her.

Another sharp twist of her head- mindful of the snake-metal this time, and her eyes lock onto a woman with flowing hair. The hair is near-white: not the gold of the sun, but also not the pure color of the snow. Her eyes remind Kaelyx of an alpine lake- which only serves to anger her further about the way she has been trapped in such a manner. The woman is studying her intensely, a soft smile flickering across her face that Kaelyx knows means nothing good- she’s seen that expression one too many times.

“So…..” It’s drawled out, the focused gaze never wavering, “You’re finally awake, half-breed.”

A growl builds in her throat, claws scraping against the stone wall behind her as she imagines sinking them into the woman’s neck. But she keeps her mouth shut, eyes narrowed in on the woman like she’s nothing more than a tasty bite of prey.

“You’ll drop that tough act soon enough, dragon.”

Less of an insult this time, but the tone is still enough for Kaelyx to have a sharp image in her mind of ripping the woman’s throat out. She nearly opens her mouth to respond, but once again decides better of it, desiring to get a better idea of the situation before speaking something that she may regret.

The woman’s smile only grows, staring straight at her with that intensity that Kaelyx has only seen on other dragons before. A sudden strike rushes through her when she grasps that this is what it must be like for her prey. What they see, maybe even what they feel… There is no doubt that this woman has the power here. For now. So long as the snake-metal bites her wrists, so long as that strange flash of light keeps her contained in this body- for the first time in her life, Kaelyx is the prey.

“Well, I don’t see any point in delaying.” The tall, sparse, metal… trees- this place makes no sense- click and swing open, and the woman strides in. Kaelyx’s growl builds as she strides closer, and she pulls harder against her trapped hands, wishing she could swing her claws at the woman’s face. That smile could be wiped away with a single slash, and it would be so satisfying to hear the haughty human scream. Maybe Kaelyx can even rip out an eye in the process.

A hand extends slowly towards her, and her fangs flash and snap. As she lunges, that damn bite returns around her wrists. Kaelyx enters a fierce brawl with her own body, willing it to shift, and yet there’s simply another flash that leaves her exhausted.

The hand rests on her forearm, just above the wicked metal, carefully out of range of Kaelyx’s flashing teeth that have a strong desire to sink into flesh, tear muscle, crush bone…

“Any more words for now, darling?”

Darling?

That insult can not be ignored.

“How dare you?” Her words come out as a hiss of rage, shocked to her core at the utter disrespect towards her race. As if a human could even compare to the grandeur of a dragon. "We are far superior to you, and such a revolting slander is beyond—”

A sudden jolt runs through her body, like a living creature is walking through her veins. It's enough of a surprise, so foreign, that she cuts her words off to focus on it. Curiosity battling with apprehension. The energy knots inside her, follow by a grasp around her chest and then a sharp pull...

All the air rushes out of her lungs.

Shock rushes through her, and Kaelyx's immediate reaction is to turn and look at the mage kneeling beside her, looking for any hint to understand the magic at work here. The woman doesn’t speak, nor does she move, her studying gaze never leaving Kaelyx’s own.

An attempt to breathe, and there’s nothing.

Another, and still no oxygen.

A third, and the fear hits.

If only logic and reasoning would have stayed with her, but the dragon, the animal that she is, responds first. And that response is manifested in pure panic. Followed by pain. That terrible feeling of fire in her lungs that she remembers once before when she was young, trapped in a cave and running out of air. But this is worse. Worse because the air is everywhere around her. Worse because as hard as she tries, all that necessary oxygen just seems to get pulled away from her before it can go to her lungs. And then she’s thrashing, struggling, needing to get her claws to her throat, to open her airway, to get some breath into her, to stop the burning- burning- burning that continues to grow and spread.

Her panic grows like a weed, choking her as quickly as the woman that steals her air with just a touch. Her struggles grow weaker, the cave getting dimmer around her. A terrifying thought scorches through Kaelyx, as intense as the fiery burn in her lungs- she’s going to die.

The woman smiles right before her world turns black.