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whump-4-ever · 7 months

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Here’s just a little something I wrote with my OC Kyrin and his girlfriend Natalie. (If you would like to use this as a whump prompt, Kyrin is the Whumpee and Natalie is the Caretaker.) Since this prompt may have triggers (listed below) for certain people, I have put the cut right before the part where Kyrin has the seizure

Fever Prompt/Illness Prompt/Sickfic Prompt #1

[‼️] Possible TW/CW: illness, convulsive seizure (fever-induced)

Kyrin lay on the bed on his side, curled up into a tight ball as violent, unforgiving fever chills assaulted his body, his muscles spasming beneath fever-flushed skin in silent protest against the disease tormenting his weakened immune system. He let out a groan of agony at the aches and pains that throbbed with each and every shiver, sliding his feet against the sheets. His suffering was as noticeable as fresh blood in the snow, but in the midst of the fever-induced delirium, he hadn’t even realized he was awake; he didn’t acknowledge his girlfriend’s presence either when she spoke, nor had he given any signs that he knew she had been right there with him the whole time, ever since the moment he stumbled into the cabin at around two o’clock that morning and collapsed right into Natalie’s arms.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Natalie whispered, instantly seeing that Kyrin had drifted into a state of semi-consciousness. She quickly stood from the chair she sat in, placed only a few feet from the bed, and leaned over him, caressing his sweat-slicked cheek with a warm, loving palm. “Shhh…… It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay,” She murmured as she ran her thumb over Kyrin’s cheekbone a couple times before laying her hand on his forehead, ever so carefully brushing back his sweat-soaked hair.

Kyrin peeled his sticky eyelids apart to reveal glassy, bloodshot eyes. “…..hnnnggg….” He groaned. His gaze slowly but surely locked onto Natalie’s. Immediately upon seeing him watching her, relief crashed down on her at the realization that he had heard her. This was the first time he’d showed any signs of awareness since his very dramatic entrance at 2 o’clock that morning, and it was a good sign.

Kyrin parted his lips just the slightest bit, his intent obvious in the way his jaw trembled, but no sounds came out. He shifted just slightly in frustration, not understanding what was going on and why it was so hard to speak.

“You’re okay,” Natalie repeated, still stroking his forehead in hopes that would keep him calm. There was a soft smile plastered on her face, seemingly a result of the relief she’d just felt, but really it was only there to stop Kyrin from panicking, not because she was happy, because she wasn’t. She was still relieved to see him conscious and aware, of course, but worry for his well-being had been welling up in her chest for awhile now, and seeing him struggling so much just to form words had only intensified that worry. It didn’t help that the amount of heat radiating off of him was much more than what was considered normal, even for a fever.

She drew in a deep breath, attempting to hold back the surge of panic that threatened to overcome her, lying there in the pit of her stomach, just waiting to attack, like a snake preparing to strike its prey. “Y-You have a fever, baby,” Natalie told him softly, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Kyrin, though he’d made eye contact with her just seconds ago, did not acknowledge her words that time. Instead, his eyes very sluggishly shifted to the side until he was staring off into the distance, the expression on his face now blank.

“Kyrin?” Natalie’s heart leapt into her throat, and that panic in her stomach took its chance to claw its way up to her heart and wrap its cold, merciless fingers around it, squeezing it tightly and sending tendrils of pain all throughout her chest. “H-Hey,” Natalie stammered. She gulped in fear before carefully cupping Kyrin’s cheeks with both hands, gently jostling his head in an attempt to elicit a response. Nothing. He didn’t even blink. “Kyrin?” She rubbed her thumb along his cheekbone like she had earlier, silently begging him to answer, but he didn’t.

It was only moments later when Kyrin’s eyes suddenly rolled up into the back of his skull. His body went stiff at the same time, and a low groaning sound rumbled deep in the back of his throat. Then the convulsions started. Soft, breathy grunting noises puffed out of the young man’s partially open mouth as his entire frame jerked around violently. He was in the midst of a full-blown seizure now.

“Oh, God,” Natalie choked out, feeling sick to her stomach. She already knew what was happening, had recognized the signs of her boyfriend’s fever-induced seizure the second the convulsions began, but it did nothing to quell the nausea.

Despite just barely keeping her emotions in check, she leapt into action, quickly assessing the situation and coming to the concluding that, since Kyrin was already on his side, not much could be done until the seizure was over, but she did what she could. She grasped his shoulder with one hand and his forearm with the other, her grip on both not nearly tight enough to restrain him or restrict his movements but rather a precaution, to ensure he wouldn’t fall off the bed and injure himself.

It felt like everything was happening in slow motion, as if hours upon hours were passing by when in reality it had only been around forty three seconds. “C’mon, Kyrin,” Natalie muttered, biting her bottom lip when she noticed foamy saliva bubbling up in her boyfriend’s mouth.

As if in response, Kyrin let out a few breathless grunting noises, his inhales nothing more than quick, shallow gasping noises, soft wheezing sounds accompanying each one. “Shhhhh….” She hushed him, doing her best to comfort him even in his state of unconsciousness.

After around two and a half minutes or so, the convulsions started to die down, gradually going from violent jerking movements to a series of light twitching motions until finally stopping altogether, Kyrin’s body going still under Natalie’s hands. “You’re alright,” She whispered. She then very carefully maneuvered her boyfriend’s limp, floppy form into the recovery position, making sure to rest his head at an angle that would help him breathe. Once that was done, she pulled the previously-discarded chair up to the side of the bed and took a seat, running her fingers through Kyrin’s hair. “It’s gonna be alright.”

#whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #whump prompt #seizure whump #fever whump #sickfic prompts #sickfic #my ocs #original character #whump 4 ever prompts

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faofinn · 6 months

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No. 17 "You're the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest."

@whumptober-archive

Collar | Touch Aversion | "Leave me alone."

Finn had found himself in ICU, waking up to plastic in his mouth, confused and disoriented. Everything was fuzzy and thick, but he was grateful for the soft words and gentle touches from his family beside him.

For a few days, he drifted in and out, too deep to do much more than occasionally squeeze the hand in his. It took a while for his limbs to finally be fully under his control, his feet fidgeting under his blankets. The more aware he became, the more agitated he began to be. It wasn’t unusual for him, unfortunately no stranger to ICU psychosis. It didn’t mean that it didn't hurt, though, watching the fear and distrust in Finn's eyes as they tried to comfort him.

After morning rounds, they made the decision to extubate him, already aware he'd been tubed for too long. He did well, for Finn. There was only minimal fuss while he worked out how to breathe again, only one threat of re-intubating him.

He was grateful for the peace after, pulling his blanket close, his lion tucked close to his chest.

He wasn't entirely sure where the others were, but he didn't really mind. After all, it was their fault he was in hospital, and they just made sure he stayed longer each time they spoke to his doctors.

Fao was sat with him, as he always was when he got the chance. He hated the thought of his brother being alone, even when he was sedated and on intensive care. They’d finally extubated him, which as a relief, Finn deciding he’d breathe on his own after some fuss. Now they just had to wait for him to become more aware again, and hope he coped. He looked comfortable, blankets drawn around him, lion against his chest, and Fao was relieved. He always worried about his brother being uncomfortable or in pain.

It was early afternoon when Finn stirred again, stretching out with a frustrated groan. His feet fidgeted uncomfortably, and when he finally opened his eyes, he was met with a stranger in the chair next to him. He scowled at him, but his words weren't working.

Fao lifted his head from what he was reading as Finn stirred, a scowl on his face. “Hey, Finn. You okay? Pain?”

He didn't answer, but his gaze didn't shift from Fao's. His fingers tightened on his lion, an old habit that he couldn't shake.

“It’s okay.” He soothed, recognising the look in Finn’s eyes. “You’re in ICU, it’s a bit confusing, waking up and all. Are you in pain?”

Finn instinctively tried pushing himself away from him, wincing as his entire body protested. He shook his head, hoping if he answered the man would leave.

Finn’s wince contradicted the shake of his head, and Fao frowned. “It’s okay if you are. We can get you some meds to help.”

With narrowed eyes, he nodded slowly. Maybe that wouldn't be the worst idea.

“Just need your buzzer for the nurse.” Fao murmured, standing up to look for it.

Fear flashed across his face, pulling away with a gasp. "No."

“I’m not going to hurt you, Finn.”

His panic only worsened the uncomfortable scratch in his throat, setting him off coughing. His chest heaved, but he couldn't catch his breath, each one burning and adding to the panic.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Fao reassured, moving closer to put a hand on Finn’s back gently. “Here, sit forward, I’ll help. You’ll feel better.”

Finn flinched from him, overbalancing on the bed. "Get off!"

Fao recoiled, pulling back. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, Finn.”

"Get away!" His voice was raw. "Leave me alone!"

“It’s me Finn, it’s Fao. You’re safe.”

That didn't seem to matter. "Get away!"

Fao backed away, palms raised in surrender. “I’m not going to touch you, it’s okay.”

The commotion had sent nurses running to Finn's bay, clearly confused. "What's going on?"

Finn didn't take well to the new additions, all too aware he was trapped by the number of wires and tubes attached to him. His fingers grabbed at the cannula in his arm, pulling hard. Blood welled up at the wound, but he didn't care, pulling at the leads on his chest.

“Shit.” Fao muttered. He’d pushed too hard, figured Finn’s issue had been just confusion and not a complete lack of recognition, but it was obvious now. “He’s confused, didn’t recognise me at all. You’re scaring him, there’s too many people here.”

“We need to make sure he’s okay.”

“I know, but look, he’s terrified.” Fao pointed out. “Finn? It’s okay, I know you’re scared. You’re bleeding. Let me help you, yeah? Let’s stop the bleeding, you’re okay.”

"Go away!" Bloody hands fought against Fao's, trying to get off the bed as tears blurred his vision. "Leave me alone!"

"Can we get some diazepam drawn up? It'll have to be IM, yeah." The doctor spoke to the nurses by him. "And bring the crash cart just in case we need to intubate again."

“You’re okay Finn, you’re okay.” Fao tried desperately to reassure. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

Finn screamed and kicked as he was held down, fighting against everyone. He begged for someone to help, but couldn't seem to grasp that they were all trying.

“Finn, it’s okay, just relax, you’re okay. We’re helping.”

"Have we got that sedation yet?"

“Just here.” One of the nurses said, handing it to the doctor.

"Thank you. Can we hold him down? I don't fancy stabbing myself."

It broke Fao’s heart, his stomach twisting as they moved to hold his brother down as he screamed and thrashed.

"You're okay, Finn. Relax, just a sharp scratch. It's just helping, okay? We'll get you sorted." He was quick to inject it, and quicker to discard the needle. "Just relax."

It didn't take long for it to start to work, even IM. Everything started to feel heavy, the nurses and … others holding him down swimming in his vision. He couldn't figure out what was going on, and though they were talking to him, he couldn't for the life of him work out what they were saying.

He groaned, turning his head with a frown as there was another sharp scratch on his wrist, blinking at them in confusion as they flushed and secured a new cannula. He must have drifted a moment too, everyone suddenly in different places, someone clipping the leads back into place. Finn gave an unimpressed huff, attempting to bat at them in an attempt to show his displeasure. It was too difficult to focus on, and he found himself slipping once again, his stomach flipping as he jerked awake to someone placing a mask over his face. It didn’t last long, and he was soon gone again, unable to fight it.

It was a relief as he settled, finally stopping fighting. It wasn’t good for him or anyone else to fight like that, and Fao could take a moment to wash the blood off of his hands from where he’d tried to help his brother. It never got easier, the not being recognised, though thankfully it was a rarity. Finn normally recognised him above most other things, but sometimes his brain played tricks on him and there was nothing they could do about it.

Soon though, Finn decided to make more work for everyone. When was he ever straight forward? His breathing slowed and then stopped, the machines fussing and alarming as his sats sank, and the doctor ended up making the decision to intubate again. Hopefully it would only be very short term, but he needed it. Fao stood by anxiously, after having politely declined to leave the room, and it was a relief when they finally got him intubated and back on the vent. It wasn’t what anyone wanted, but it was what Finn needed. Hopefully it wouldn’t be for long. The room began to empty out and he sank back into the chair by the bed, completely drained.

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random-fandom-whump · 2 years

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Smallville S08E03 ↳ RFW's Favorite Smallville Whump Moments (✚)

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vicvinegarandhughhoney · 1 month

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Can I lay by your side?- Prompt: Seizures

Fandom: That '80s Show

Pairing: Corey Howard/June Tuesday

AU where Corey has epilepsy, and Tuesday comes to terms with what that means when she witnesses a seizure for the first time.

Read here or below the cut

Corey's been staring at the same Metallica record for nearly two minutes. Tuesday knows this because she's been watching him for that amount of time, studying the glazed look in his eyes with concern that only builds the longer he remains like this.

Her first thought, admittedly, is that he might have taken something. After all, he's been staring at the same spot for a while as though he isn't seeing the same thing there as she is. Maybe he's hallucinating? Maybe he chanced his luck on a few more magic mushrooms than usual before his shift, and voila! Spacey Corey! Hell, it could even be that he smoked a little too much weed- he does look almost stoned…

When Corey’s zone-out session officially reaches the two minute mark, Tuesday decides that whatever it is, she needs to intervene somehow. She sets down the pile of records she was organising and hops over the counter, suppressing the urge to wrap him in an embrace from behind (if he's tripping, it's probably not the best idea) and instead placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You okay, babe?”

Nothing. It's like he didn't even hear her. His eyes are still fixed on the Metallica vinyl, expression emotionless.

Tuesday swallows back a sudden surge of panic. “Corey?”

He blinks, and at last turns to meet her gaze. Something in his eyes just… isn't right, though. It's like he isn't all there.

“Core?”

At his name being called again, he blinks. Snaps back into reality from whatever void he's been floating in.

Except… no. This isn't Corey zoning out. Tuesday can tell immediately by the slightly panicked look in his eyes when he meets her gaze that something isn't right.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” She urges.

“I…” He inhales sharply, then runs a shaky hand down his face. Even this one syllable seems slurred. “I can’t…” His sentence goes unfinished, trailing off into a deep sigh, so deep that his eyelids flutter closed and Tuesday is worried for a moment that he's about to pass out. “M… s-shit… seizure.”

Her stomach drops at his words.

“You’re gonna have a seizure?”

Corey nods, and Tuesday well and truly panics.

She's known Corey for six or so months now, and it's only during the last of these that they've been dating. They’ve had discussions about all sorts- aspirations, favourite flavour of ice pole (her lemon, him cherry), their respective childhood- usually laying in bed together or drowsily watching TV. Casual talks just like Tuesday’s heard are normal between couples.

There was one chat, though, which was explicitly more important than the lazy discussions they typically had. Corey had sat her down one evening, pretty early on into their relationship. He looked nervous. Like he thought she was about to bolt out the door the moment he started speaking to her.

“I, uh. I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah. A brain thing. A disorder. Illness. Whatever you wanna call it.”

“I… like what? Like- like a cancer?”

He’d rouged. “Oh, no. God no. I don't think so, anyway. It's- it’s epilepsy. It isn't… it isn't some big bad degenerative disorder, but that doesn't mean it isn't… messy… sometimes.”

“Messy?”

“Yeah. Complicated. Difficult. D’you… do you know anything about epilepsy?”

Tuesday had shaken her head. God, she wished she could have been more informed for him. She wished she could have made it easier, saved him the task of laboriously explaining everything to her.

By the end of their talk, though, she'd been a little more confident about the subject. She knew that epilepsy was characterised by seizures, and though Corey did have the scarier ones (tonic-clonic, he’d called them), they were usually preceded by smaller ones.

“It’s like the wiring sparking before the whole system shuts down. It's localised. Focal.” His voice assumed a vaguely professorial air. Tuesday listened, enraptured, to his lecture. “In my case, it looks like I’m just zoning out. They’re called absence seizures. Like ‘absence’, but French, I guess.”

“So how do I know whether you're actually zoning out or whether it's one of these seizures?”

Corey smiled sympathetically. “The aftermath is a pretty strong clue. I’m told that once you've witnessed a few, you get an eye for them.”

Tuesday hasn't witnessed a few. She hasn't witnessed any, until now, and the fact that Corey is probably about to have a ‘big one’ right in front of her is frankly terrifying.

She breathes in deeply, pulling herself back to the here and now. “Okay. Okay. What- what do you need me to do? You should- you should lie down, right?”

“Mmm…”

“Are you- are you gonna go to the break room? It might be a little easier but-”

“C-can’t.” He murmurs in response, already lowering himself shakily to the floor just a metre or so away from the shelves. His blinking is growing more and more languid as he adjusts ever so slightly to get comfortable, and Tuesday remembers him telling her something about cushioning his head during that long discussion they had. She shrugs off her green jacket and rolls it up.

“Here,” she says, kneeling down next to him and gently lifting his head to place the jacket beneath it as a makeshift pillow. “Is- is that good, Core?”

He hums and it's clear she isn't going to get much more from him verbally- especially because his eyelids are starting to flutter.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s… it’s going to be okay. I’m here.”

A small, pained whine bubbles up from his throat. His neck is starting to twitch a little. As are his hands.

It must be terrifying to lose control of your body like that. To know that for the next few minutes, there's nothing you can do except let things happen.

When at last his eyes fall closed completely and consciousness leaves him, Tuesday can't help feeling almost relieved in spite of the accompanying harsher motions. The fear in his eyes had been too visceral for her to stomach. This unnatural shaking is hardly easier to witness, of course, but at least he doesn't appear to be as aware of his situation as before.

The bell on the door tinkles and Tuesday realises she's neglected to shut customers out for the time being. She curses and lifts herself up just enough to spot someone beginning to browse the shelves on the other side of the store, completely unaware of the medical incident occurring mere footsteps away.

“Margaret!” she shouts to the back office.

“What?”

“Can you- can you come out here please!”

There's the sound of footsteps from the back office, and Tuesday looks up to see Margaret standing in the doorway. She’s wearing her typical ‘one is not amused’ expression that is usually eye-roll worthy (except in situations like these, of course, where a little care and attention is definitely needed).

“What?”

“Corey’s having a seizure.”

Tuesday's never seen a person's entire demeanour change so quickly. In an instant, Margaret’s features are softening, and she hurries to escort the single browsing customer out of the door with not a snide remark in sight. She seems genuinely concerned.

“Okay,” she says as soon as he's gone, pulling the shutters on the door down. “Are you timing?”

“T-timing?”

“The seizure, are you timing how long it's lasting? We need to time it, Tuesday.”

Right. Of course. Corey definitely told her about this during that long conversation they had, and Tuesday flushes with shame at forgetting it. Thankfully, before she can even apologise, Margaret is pressing a button on her watch and turning her attention back to Corey.

“You’re okay, Corey. It’s going to be alright.”

Her voice is so gentle. So gentle. The hand that she usually disgruntledly shoos customers away with now comes up to rest on his shaking shoulder, her brows knitted with motherly attention.

“We’re both here with you, Corey. Nice and easy. It’ll be over soon, sweetheart.”

Tuesday hopes she's right. It's only been a minute or so, but to her it feels like a lifetime- God knows how long of an eternity it must feel to him. His cheek is flush to the floor now, eyes closed but lashes fluttering. Every so often, a low whine escapes the back of his throat like that of a wounded animal, the convulsive motions making it sound even more pained, like he's choking on his own fucking saliva.

“Keep his head tilted up.” Margaret says calmly. “That’s it- just like that. Makes it easier for him to breathe.”

Easier? God, when did it get difficult for him?

She finds out quickly, her eyes moving to Corey’s chest. Amongst the jerking movements she makes out the irregular rising and falling for each breath. Starts to count them just to give herself something to do until all this is over.

A second passes. Then another. It feels as though everything is moving aside from his-

His lips are a little blue. Tuesday's only just noticed that. She reaches out a hand to rub against his trembling shoulder, waiting to feel another choking exhale before-

The breaths come in quick succession, and for a moment Tuesday sighs with relief. Until… silence.

She waits another second. Two. Three. Still, amidst everything, she can't make out the movement of his chest. Her eyes widen with concern and she looks up to Margaret, only to find hers flash with panic as well before it's hastily concealed.

“Corey?” Margaret calls. “Corey, sweetheart, take a breath for me.”

She reaches around, making a fist and rubbing against his sternum as if to encourage the reflex herself.

“Come on, Corey. Breathe. You’ve got to breathe.”

Tuesday joins in now, too- her hand comes up to his jaw, her cheek to the ground in front of him so she's at his level. Desperation makes her voice tremble.

“Breathe, Core. Breathe. Please.”

The rigidity dissipates for a second, and Corey takes a breath. Tuesday and Margaret immediately exhale theirs.

“Good boy, Corey.” Margaret manages, smiling a little in a way that hides how close she was to tears. “There we are. Nearly over now.”

Tuesday’s gaze flits to the watch. “How long?”

“Nearly three minutes. It's starting to slow down now.”

If Margaret hadn't pointed it out, she would never have noticed, but it's true- the violent jerking motions are growing more and more infrequent with each second that passes. They fade into twitches, ones that Tuesday feels beneath her palm as she strokes his back, then stillness. Blissful, blissful stillness.

She waits for him to wake up, for the lucidity to suddenly reappear in his eyes, but instead she's met with yet more unconsciousness. The only difference is that this time it almost resembles…

“Sleep, Corey. That's it. We’re going to be right here when you wake up again.”

His breathing is slow and even now, a far cry from what it has been. Tuesday’s hand moves from his jaw to his forehead, brushing the sweat-damp hair back as she raises her eyes to meet Margaret's.

“He’s… he's asleep now?”

“Mhm. Will be for a good few minutes. Then he’ll wake up. Then he'll probably go back to sleep again. He won't be back with it for a few hours, and even then he'll be exhausted.”

Oh.

“I’m going to call Katie to come pick him up- I know you'll want to take him home yourself, but she's got a lot of experience with post-ictal Corey. You can always come with them.”

“Post… post-ictal?”

Margaret smiles faintly. “Yeah. Post-seizure.”

This is evidence enough that Tuesday is wholly unprepared for taking care of Corey right now, as much as she might wish otherwise. She sighs, and nods.

“Alright. I'll come with them.”

“Thought so.” With a small grunt, Margaret pulls herself up from the floor she was kneeling on. “Right, I’m going to make that call.”

Tuesday doesn't quite know why her heart skips a beat. Perhaps it's the sudden responsibility. “Is- is there anything really important I need to do?”

The reply she gets is simple.

“Just talk to him, Tuesday. Talk, and comfort, because when he wakes up, he's going to be confused and scared half to death.”

With these words, Margaret leaves her alone with only the faint sound of music playing in the background of the store and Corey’s almost-snores. She settles back on her haunches, heart still racing in her chest even as she observes this new stillness.

“It’s… it’s alright, Core. I’m here.”

Her hand begins to rake through the curls hanging limply over his forehead, soothing both herself and (hopefully) her boyfriend with the familiar motion. It's hard to tell whether it's comforting for him, of course. It's hard to tell anything at all when he's so unnaturally quiet.

Distantly, she can hear Margaret's voice on the phone.

“Just over three minutes… no… not as far as I'm aware… no, he didn't throw up… mhm… yeah, Tuesday's with him right now. We’re just waiting for him to come round.”

As if on cue, a small groan issues from the floor in front of Tuesday, she looks down to see Corey’s brow furrowed as if in pain.

“Hey,” she greets, voice soft, ministrations softer. “You had a seizure, sweetheart, but you're okay now. You're alright.”

He sighs deeply, nostrils flaring. Shifts until the palms of his hands are pressed against the floor like he's about to attempt lifting himself up.

“Easy, Core, easy. Don’t try to move just yet.”

Usually, her efforts to subdue him physically would be pointless- in the weeks they've been dating, he’s lifted her up for fun multiple times- but now it only takes a single hand to his shoulder for him to sink back down, exhausted and defeated. He looses another little groan, and Tuesday realises that he's trembling. Her heart plummets right to her feet.

“Hey, it's okay! I promise you're alright, sweetheart.”

Slowly, she lowers herself to the floor beside him and moves to face him, taking a slightly-too-cold hand in hers while her other hand continues to card through his hair. His eyes open half-mast, frightened though still a little glazed.

“Just talk to him, Tuesday.”

“You’re- you’re at Permanent Record right now.” She tells him, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. “And Margaret- she’s in the back calling your sister so she can come pick you up. I’ll stay right here with you, if- as long as you want me to, Corey, okay?”

He blinks slowly. Hums.

Draws his free hand shakily up to his face to wipe his mouth, then lets it flop back down to the floor. Even this small movement has him breathless. Shaking again.

“It’s okay, Corey. I’m here. Your sister’s on her way. You’re safe, sweetheart. Everything’s okay. I’m right here.”

His eyes don't leave hers the whole time she speaks, and Tuesday can only hope that he's understanding some of it. What she knows for sure, though, is that Margaret was right.

Corey’s terrified.

Aside from the trembling- almost shivering, now- there are tears beginning to form in his eyes. Tuesday hasn't seen him cry like this before. Ever.

For a moment, her mind races trying to conjure up a solution from her conversation with Corey, or perhaps something Margaret said could help. There was a pamphlet she read too, and maybe… God, if she could just remember-

Fuck it.

As gently as possible, she sits up and begins to manoeuvre Corey towards her, tentativity dissipating the moment he begins reaching for her with the same desperation she feels. It takes a few moments, but soon he’s laying against her, her arms wrapped around his middle while she whispers reassurances into his hair. It feels good to hold him, to feel the tension in his muscles loosening within her embrace.

“Shh, you’re alright. You had a seizure, but you're okay now. I’m here. Your sister’s coming. Everyone's here to look after you, Corey.”

After a few minutes, Margaret emerges from the back room. She smiles when she spots the two of them.

“See? I told you he'd fall right back asleep.”

Tuesday hadn’t even noticed, but now that she peers round, she sees that her boyfriend’s eyes are closed, and he's breathing deeply and evenly. Fast asleep in her arms.

“Katie’s on her way.” Margaret continues. “Won’t be long now.”

Tuesday hears Katie before she sees her. The bell attached to the door tinkles urgently, and then there are hurried footsteps across the tile until golden curls and a concerned face follow them into her eye line. Usually the very picture of politeness, Katie doesn't offer a word to Tuesday before kneeling down at her brother’s side, and frankly? Who could blame her.

“Oh, Corey.”

There's more conveyed in those three syllables than could be contained in a thousand-page book, especially when they're immediately accompanied by her hand smoothing back the hair on his forehead just like Tuesday had done.

“We're gonna get you home, alright, Core? Nice and tucked up in bed before you know it.”

The smile she levels his way is wobbly. Of course it is- Corey’s so still in sleep that it would shake anyone's resolve. She spends a few more moments soothing him, then turns her attention to Tuesday.

“The car’s parked just outside, so all we have to do is get him out there and into the backseat. Daddy's at home- that means we don't have to worry about getting him out of the car and into bed.”

“I think I can help lift him if you can get his legs?”

“Deal.”

Somehow, with their combined effort, they manage to lay Corey out in the back seat of the car. Katie takes the driver’s seat (‘I sure am glad my licence came through’) while Tuesday sits with her boyfriend’s head settled in her lap. The drive is thankfully only a short one- the easy commute is one of the things that drew Corey to the job in the first place- and soon they're pulling up into the driveway. To his credit, RT’s already standing outside waiting for them.

“Alright, Corey.” he says, gentler than he's ever been as he leans over to lift his son from the back seat. “There we go, my boy. Your Dad’s got you now.”

In the months that she's known Corey, she's come to dislike his father. He's stingy, lazy, and all the ‘ists’ rolled into one- misogynist, racist, chauvinist etc etc. He doesn't look after his son often enough, because as a woman that's Katie’s job (and before her, it was his ex-wife who bore the task). For a moment, though, while she watches RT gather Corey in his arms and slowly retreat to the house, whispering assurances all the way, she doesn't hate him as much as usual.

For a brief few seconds, he's simply a father carrying his son to his bedroom, just like he used to when Corey was tiny and fell asleep after a long car ride.

Tuesday stays sat in the car for a while, the ghost of her boyfriend’s warmth still lingering in her lap while she tries to grapple with the day’s events. It's only when Katie comes out from the house after following RT in that she blinks herself out of her stupor and opens the car door.

“You okay?” Katie asks. It’s a testament to her personality that despite the worry she must feel for her brother, she's still taking time to enquire about the welfare of his girlfriend.

Tuesday plasters on a fake smile and nods. “Yeah. Is… is Corey alright?”

The answer she receives is delayed by a few seconds that only deepen the pit in her stomach.

“He’ll be okay. It’s just… well, he was seizure-free for a month or so and I think this one coming out of the blue has taken its toll on him a little. Physically and mentally.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Katie smiles, a sliver of the usual bubbly joy she exhibits, but an expression of quiet gratitude nonetheless. “He’s exhausted, but I think he'd appreciate you being there. Why don't you just go up to his bedroom and stay with him a while? It would be nice for him to know that this whole thing hasn't scared you away.”

Tuesday frowns. “Scared me away?”

A sad nod. “Unfortunately some of his… previous girlfriends… weren't super understanding. They're ready to accept him when he's just a cute guy with nice hair, but the moment he starts becoming a real human being with real struggles, they leave. He's ‘too much’ for them.”

“Oh God.”

“One of them- Hannah, I think her name was- well, he was at her place and they were watching a movie when he realised he was about to seize. She freaked out and kicked him out of her apartment because she didn't want him to ‘puke on her carpet’ and he ended up having the seizure out in the hall completely by himself. Luckily a neighbour heard some commotion and came out to see what was going on. She was the one who phoned the number on his bracelet from her apartment and told us what had happened- well, what she knew about it, at least. He’d hit his head during it as well, probably when he first lost consciousness, and when Mommy and I got there we ended up taking him straight to the ER. He needed stitches.”

“Jesus.”

“It was a good thing we went there as well, because he had another seizure at the hospital. They think it was stress-induced, you know, because of his girlfriend's reaction. He ended up staying the night.”

Tuesday swallows, heart sinking. “I had no idea.”

“I know- now come on, go and cheer my brother up so he knows you’re way better than any of those… unkind ladies.”

Katie takes her by the hand, marching her through the front door and up the stairs to the right until they reach Corey's bedroom. The curtains are closed, and nobody is in there except him. Tuesday takes a step in.

“If you need anything, just come downstairs.” Katie whispers, disappearing before Tuesday can ask a single question more- not that any immediately spring to mind. The room settles into a silence only interrupted by the sound of Corey’s gentle snoring.

It's odd to hear. He’s normally quiet as a mouse when he sleeps, but the knowledge that post-ictal (is that the word Margaret used?) Corey isn’t doesn't really surprise her. She's sure she would sleep a little differently after the medical equivalent of an electrical short-circuit in the brain.

There's a seat pulled out at the side of the bed- perhaps it was where Katie was sitting while Tuesday was having a short existential crisis in the car. She lowers herself into it and watches Corey sleep for a few seconds. Brushes the curls from his forehead.

Her presence must register somewhere in his unconscious mind, because he soon begins to stir, tired blue eyes opening to look at her.

“Hi, sweetheart.” she greets, still stroking his hair. “How are you feeling?”

He swallows. Opens his mouth then closes it like he's remembering how to speak properly again. “Mm… tired.” His voice is hoarse.

Tuesday hums. “I’m not surprised. Just take it easy, alright?”

His eyes close briefly. “Takin’ it… easy.”

“You need anything?”

There's a pause, before he exhales a deep sigh and presses his cheek deeper against his pillow. “Just… you.”

Tuesday feels a swell of pride. “Me?”

“Mhm…”

Reluctantly, she pulls herself away from stroking his hair and instead crosses to the other side of the room where she can slip beneath the covers of his bed. The side sans Corey is of course cold, but it smells like him, and the moment he feels her shifting towards him he rolls over and envelopes her in a slightly shaky bear hug.

“Mm… love you, Tuesday.”

She swallows past the emotional lump in her throat and strokes his hair as he settles with his head beneath her chin. “Yeah… I love you too, Corey. No matter what.”

The trembling strengthens for a moment and Tuesday can feel dampness seeping into the top of her shirt- right where her boyfriend’s face is pressed, conveniently buried away from her view.

“It’s alright, Core.” she whispers, like it's a secret between only the two of them. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

They remain there until the trembling begins to subside. Until the gentle snores start anew.

Until Corey is sound asleep in her arms without fear that she'll loosen her grip.

#bad things happen bingo #that 80s show #corey howard #whump #seizure whump #med whump #glenn howerton

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whumpschild · 1 year

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#whump #seizure whump #dizzy #faint #whumpee #whump comunity #whump blog #whump art

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we-were-so-beautiful · 1 year

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an introductory ramble

oh man I've been up all night and I'm definitely hyperfocusing so I hope this makes any kind of sense

so right around christmas I stumbled on @justbreakonme 's blog, don't even remember how. but from there I found @whumpzone and linden and col became comfort characters alarmingly fast. and in my quest to cram as many stories about them as possible into my head I found lost property, which naturally meant falling in love with cory and lydia along the way. so now I'm about halfway into @maracujatangerine 's original series with them and I had to stop because I was having so many ideas for a series of my own that I had to start writing them down

what I'm trying to say here is, 1) y'all are INSPIRATIONAL and 2) holy shit what the fuck is happening how did I get here

anyway I have no idea how any of this works, and tbh I'm still a total lightweight when it comes to whump, but the urge to un-lurk was too strong to resist

so uh, hi, y'all can call me diz (it's short for disaster)

things I like: caretaking, comfort, rescue, recovery, touch starved characters, mild sickfic (fevers, colds), warming, fluff (I SAID I was a lightweight ok), hospital drama, fainting, environmental whump, seizure whump (weirdly specific), pet whump (APPARENTLY)

not into: noncon, graphic gore, emeto/GI illness, whumpee death

I'll probably update both lists as I think of things

anyway uhh, if you're reading this feel free to ask me stuff? and/or if you've got tips on how to get started as a whumpblr / pet whump / BBU blog and want to send them my way, I'd much appreciate it!

also please do let me know if there's anything I need to tag that I've missed

cheers~

#whump #pet whump #rescue whump #recovery whump #seizure whump #bbu #box boy universe

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simply-whump · 3 months

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The Sign : Episode 9

#the sign the series #the sign #asian whump #whump #thai drama #thai bl #billy patchanon #babe tanatat #seizure #cardiac arrest #cpr #worry #weak

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whumperer-86 · 10 months

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The longest promise ep17

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whiteboywhump · 3 months

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A Fighting Choice 1986

Full Movie:

P1: https://youtu.be/lPtvnbL2w28?si=KEjhG1HDc5vI9WDZ

P2: https://youtu.be/JDEH3xy4pb8?si=es2DJynRvrXm58zX

P3: https://youtu.be/qD7LoBl-rxc?si=HrY85pz0cR746yVY

P4: https://youtu.be/xbsBwiMyDZs?si=4rkpb_9mx4-7oXf6

#whump #gif #male whump #whump gif #epilepsy #patrick dempsey #a fighting choice movie #seizure whump #unconscious #convulsions #worry

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serickswrites · 4 months

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Shake It Off

Warnings: captivity, restraints, choking, seizures, forced to watch, torture, poison

Caretaker swallowed as they watched Whumpee convulse in the chair opposite them. Watched as Whumpee's muscles contracted and their limbs jerk against the restraints that kept them in the chair. Watched as the choking sounds echoed in their ears and foam fell from Whumpee's lips.

Caretaker was utterly powerless as they watched Whumpee seize and choke after Whumper had force fed Whumpee the poison. They were utterly powerless as they jerked on their own restraints trying to be free. Utterly powerless as Whumper laughed as they watched Whumpee seize.

"Face it, Caretaker, there's nothing you or anyone can do for Whumpee."

"No!" Caretaker renewed their efforts to try and break free. Whumpee began to still and grow quiet once more. They had to get to Whumpee. Had to get to Whumpee and get out of there.

"Don't worry, Caretaker. I won't kill Whumpee." Whumper walked over to Whumpee, caressing their hair gently. "I'm having too much fun to end it now."

Whumpee's eyes were dazed and confused. They were seeing the room without seeing. Caretaker tried to catch Whumpee's eye, but couldn't. "Whumpee, Whumpee, you're ok. Whumpee!"

Whumper fisted Whumpee's hair, jerking their head up roughly. "They're too out of it to hear you, Caretaker." Whumper dropped Whumpee's head violently. "We'll see how long they can be entertaining. I'll grow bored with them eventually. I always grow bored with them. And you've seen what happens to my toys when they get boring."

Caretaker swallowed once more. Caretaker had seen the mutilated corpses. They had seen exactly what Whumper did to their victims. Caretaker couldn't let that happen to Whumpee. There had to be a way to get out of there.

"Just hang in there, Whumpee," Caretaker murmured once Whumper had gone. "I'll find a way to get you out of here."

#serickswrites #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw torture #tw choking #tw seizures #tw forced to watch #whumpcember #whumpcember 2023 #day 21 #day 22 #prompt: choking #prompt: seizure #queue #tw poison

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faofinn · 8 months

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15. Sick in an Inconvenient Place

The Daniels always tried to give the family a nice summer holiday, something to get away for a bit and spend time as a family. Often, it had been whatever Fred’s research dictated, but not always, and this year they’d chosen to camp in the new forest. Abroad was nice, too, but Finn’s seizures weren’t super controlled, and it was easier being closer to home, in a country they knew could manage properly without a language barrier.

The campsite was nice, quiet and well-maintained. The weather was good, and there were plenty of facilities there to enjoy themselves. Despite being nearly 23, Fao loved these holidays with his family, a chance to escape the demands of med school and relax, as well as spend quality time with his brother. He didn’t get to see him as much as he’d like, but there was no escape from him now, sharing a bed in a section of the tent. Not that Fao minded, his brother was sweet and always cuddly, and he missed it when he was away.

Finn loved the holidays, and not just the reprieve from school. Fao joining them always made it better, though as a teenager, he tried to deny it.

Of course, being snuggled up to him like a limpet at every opportunity often made his argument moot, but the family went along with his charade. It made Finn feel more mature, gave him the impression he was growing up, even if they all knew he wasn't. If Fred was anything to go by, Sheila wasn't sure if Finn would ever grow up.

Fao wasn’t sure how he’d ended up playing hide and seek with his brother, but he was having fun and he wasn’t going to complain. He’d been shit at hiding, so Finn had protested that he had to do the seeking, and he’d do the hiding. Fao didn’t mind, Finn wasn’t usually that hard to find, and he gave him the time before he went in search of him.

Finn had found Fao almost immediately, his brother basically just standing behind a tree. Of course, Finn complained, so Fao let him hide, which he loved. It was more fun to hide, anyway.

He'd ran off as soon as Fao started counting; he'd seen a tree he was sure he could climb - and he would be higher than Fao, so he definitely wouldn't find him. It was a bit of a struggle to get up, but he'd managed with minimal injury. Out of breath and trying not to giggle, he missed the first warning.

Fao regretted letting Finn hide, his brother seemingly having disappeared. Of course, that was the aim of the game, but that wasn’t the point. He scoured the area they’d set out to play in, though he wasn’t convinced Finn hadn’t gone outside of it.

As Fao passed him, Finn covered his hand with his mouth, trying his best to not giggle. He managed it, somehow, and Fao continued on. His excitement and laughter quickly stopped as his stomach flipped and lights flashed across his vision. The nausea was almost unbearable, and realisation dawned. He knew he needed to get down, but everything was slow, his limbs barely under his control. The panic was overwhelming, the game forgotten, and he called out to his brother.

"Fao!"

At Finn calling his name, Fao whipped around, the fear clear in his brother’s voice. He couldn’t see him for a minute, eyes flicking around the clearing. Then he spotted him up the tree, and rushed over.

“Finn? What’s wrong?”

He'd managed to get some of the way down, too far to jump without getting hurt, but he didn't have much of a choice. Fao's voice was distant, muffled behind the rush of blood in his ears. He couldn't see anymore and just had to hope that Fao would find him.

Fao rushed forwards, just in time to see Finn fall, having got halfway down the tree he’d obviously been hiding in. He was just too far away, as Fao tried to cover the ground, and his brother hit the floor with a thud.

“Finn!” He fell to his knees next to him, hands shaking, taken back to watching Finn fall the first time, finding him at the bottom of the stairs in his own blood.

Finn had landed awkwardly, seizing as he hit the ground. Blood seeped from a cut across his forehead, and the spit that collected at his lips was mainly blood.

Fao scrabbled for his phone, starting the timer as quickly as he could. He didn’t have his bag with him, didn’t have anything. The midaz was back at the tent. He should’ve brought it with him but he’d thought for five minutes they’d be okay.

Of course, though, they weren't. Five minutes ticked closer and closer, and Finn’s seizure showed no signs of stopping. Cyanosis was clear on his lips, each breath a desperate struggle against contracting muscles. Blood dripped down his face and into his eye, but there was nothing he could do.

The awkward way Finn had fallen had Fao worried about his cspine, but the way he was breathing (or not) meant that Fao didn’t have much of a choice but to get him on his side. He muttered his apologies, shoving him onto his side in the dirt.

Glancing at his phone, he found he had one precious bar of service, and quickly called Sheila. He was in the middle of nowhere, and as much as he needed an ambulance, he needed her to get them to him. He was quick as he explained, leaving out the fact Finn had literally fallen out of a tree.

He couldn’t stay on the phone with her long, quickly dialling for an ambulance. He was as calm as he could be, clinical with them, and explained exactly what he was dealing with. He didn’t know the area, didn’t know the hospitals, which was nerve wracking enough, not to mention Finn very definitely unwell, in an awkward place in the middle of nowhere.

Sheila had a rough idea where they were, but Fred had explored more of the campsite and had a pretty good inkling he knew where they were. He told Sheila to wait for the ambulance, to direct them to the woods and he'd be back to meet them. He grabbed Finn’s midaz from the tent and ran off, worry and adrenaline seeing him sprint through the site to find his sons.

Fao spoke soothingly to Finn as he continued to seize, hoping and praying the ambulance came quickly. He hated not being able to do anything, and listening to Finn’s erratic breathing was like torture. He heard footsteps and looked up, expecting paramedics but seeing Fred.

“Dad!”

Fred was more than a little out of breath, but dropped to his knees by the pair. "I've got his midaz. Been longer than five, yeah?"

Fao nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, give it.”

Fred had already opened the syringe and reached to wipe the bloody spit from Finn's mouth before giving the midaz. He apologised to his son under his breath, making sure the midaz was in the right place.

"What happened?"

“We were playing hide and seek, and then he called for me, just before he went. He, uh, might’ve been in the tree?”

Fred looked at Fao, face paling. "You're kidding me. Please tell me you're joking."

“I wish I was joking. He got halfway down before he fell, but…”

"Explains the blood." Fred felt sick. "How did he land?"

“Hard?” Fao winced.

"On his head?"

“Sort of.” Fao mumbled. “I didn’t get to him quick enough, I tried…”

Fred's mind reeled. "It's okay. It's not your fault. You did your best."

He’d said that last time, and Finn had still nearly died. Fao sighed. “Yeah.”

Fred reached a hand to squeeze Fao's shoulder. "Thank you for being here for him."

He made a noise. “He’s my little brother.”

"I know, I know. I'm gonna have to go meet the ambulance, okay? I'll be right back."

“Yeah, go. I’ll be with him.”

"Thank you." He squeezed his youngest's arm. "Just hold on, Finn. Please, just hold on."

Fao watched his dad go, praying things didn’t take much longer, that Finn stopped seizing, that something got better.

The midaz seemed to help, his breathing starting to even out, the seizure starting to slow. It still hadn't fully resolved by the time the ambulance arrived, his eyes still fixed, muscles still contracting.

Fao looked up as the paramedics arrived, relieved to finally see them as his brother began to stop seizing, though he could still feel the flicker of muscle contraction against him.

"Hi, Finn and Fao, yeah?" The one in front gave them a tense smile. "I'm Mia, this is Tom. How's Finn doing now? Your dad caught us up a bit."

“Hi, yeah. As you can see he’s started to resolve, he’s had his midaz about a minute ago now, but he’s not fully come out of it yet, I can still feel him. He was in the tree, and he was just coming down as he went, I tried to catch him but I wasn’t able to. He hit his head, I was worried about his cspine but I was more worried about his airway so I had to roll him.”

"Okay. How long has he been seizing for? And how far did he fall?"

“Um, however long is on my phone? 8 minutes? He fell from about half way down, maybe a metre, he was trying to climb down but I guess he’d already started.”

"Alright. I'm gonna get some more people to come give us a hand." She murmured as Tom connected Finn to the oxygen. "I'll see if I can get a cannula in, too, just in case that midaz doesn't help."

“He’s usually decent to cannulate.” Fao murmured. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you guys.”

"Just keep doing what you're doing, you're doing a great job."

He nodded, staying put and murmuring to his brother. “Got some help now, Finn. Gonna get you sorted.”

Sure enough, Finn was easy enough to cannulate, even with his occasional jerks. His airway was cleared, his oxygen starting to climb back into acceptable territory. As the minutes crawled by, their assessment continued to be worrying. His gaze was still fixed, as were his pupils, his head injury all too obvious. Of course, they were worried about it being a distracting injury, especially with the possibility of a spinal injury all too likely.

Fao could tell things weren’t good, the paramedics sounding increasingly concerned as they worked. That was the problem with his medical brain, he could get the gist of what they were saying, what their worries were, and he bit his lip. Finn definitely wasn’t right, still tolerating the oxygen and all too unresponsive.

"I'm going to give him more diaz. He's not out of it yet." Mia murmured. "Can you grab that and the BVM? Just in case."

Her crewmate did so, passing her the meds and sorting the BVM, making sure it was in reach if they needed it. “Here.”

"Right, that's given. Can you mark it? Great." She rubbed Finn's arm. "C'mon, kid."

“Come on, Finn.” Fao murmured. “Don’t do this.”

The seconds dragged on into minutes, and Finn’s seizure finally seemed to stop. His body slowly relaxed into the dirt, the ambulance crew carefully adjusting him onto his back and taking control of his head. His airway was secured and observations rechecked.

"Pupils are a bit more reactive now, but they're still very sluggish. He's got good air entry, no obvious problem there. Abdo is nice and soft, nothing on the long bones, but I'm not sure if he's broken that arm." Mia ran through, though glanced up as the monitor beeped at them. "Finn? Come on, don't do this."

Tom looked up at her, catching the urgency in her tone. He reached to rub at Finn’s chest, knuckles on bare skin. "Finn, come on, take a breath. You can do it."

"He's not going to, is he?" She murmured.

"I've got the BVM. Do you want to update them and get the pads on?" Tom asked, swapping the masks over. "There we go, that's getting air entry there. Sats are coming back up. Should we intubate?"

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