#fainting spell

[topromoteme]

This woman was charmed to death.

[danskjavlarna]

Source details and larger version.

[spaztastic-headcannons]

A Fainting Spell

Authors Note: So I fainted for the second time in my life, but this time it started out slowly enough i knew it was coming. I’m alright! It’s not likely to happen again!  But it was still scary so I wanted to write something both to cope with how it felt, but also what an opportunity to know first hand how that feels lol.  The first time doesn’t count because it happened so fast and also was my own damn fault – I (18 or 19 at the time) donated blood to get free movie tickets for my sister and I, forgetting I hadn’t eaten anything yet that day….my poor sister got to watch me floppy fish for a few seconds before I came around.  I don’t even really remember much. I was talking to the blood donation ladies and then I was waking up to someone calling my name softly. I was fine but I did get a hell of a lecture lol!

CW: blood, some gore(?), description of fainting.

Jason Todd x Reader

Reader has no specific gender mentioned but it's based on me getting my birth control implant out if that matters?

Anyway! Onto the fic!

Blood, normally, doesn’t phase me.  It’s a fact of life and I can move on. It makes me effective at first aid in emergencies, and unphase-able during more bloody movie nights.

I think that’s what makes this moment so surprising to me. Two days past a very simple, nearly painless out-patient surgery that left a shallow hole in my arm. The pressure bandage came off the morning before and now here I was, removing the gauze covering the minor wound. It’s not the blood that phases me, but the little flap of something hanging outside the relatively little wound. Stuck to the gauze from dried blood, it pulls away painlessly before snapping back against my skin.

It’s not a piece of the gauze, which is the only thing I’m sure of. It’s a part of me…a part of me from below the skin. That’s not supposed to be outside…

I take a deep breath, already feeling my heartrate pick up a beat or two faster.

I’m calm, this is fine, it’s basic first aid and wound care. I’ve done it before for boo-boos I get and for others. It’s fine! I think to myself, pulling off the rest of the medical tape holding the gauze to my arm.

There is a bead of blood welling up but not spilling over, an opened scab expected when pulling off the gauze after 48 hours.  The little flap, though, is throwing me off. I take another deep breath and smile, opening the bathroom door to call out, “Jay? Could you come here?”

From the other side of the apartment I hear, “You ok?” then shuffling coming my way.

“Yeah, I just need some emotional support really quick!”

Despite my flippant tone, he’s hastily in the bathroom with me, brows bent inwards in worry.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing! Nothing, just…look, there’s a flap hanging out and I’m a bit freaked out by it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it.” I gesture to my arm, clean fingers framing the wound where I was about to clean it before putting a colorful bandaid on it.

He looked closely, unphased as he was by wounds of nearly any type from his night life. “Yuck. I’m sure it’s fine though. Does it hurt?”

“No, so I don’t think it’s a nerve or like, muscle fiber or anything,” I say with more confidence than is probably warranted.

He shook his head, “Nah, definitely not either of those.”

Hear that gave me the confidence to move back to the sink, wetting my fingers and gathering some gentle, scentless soap and cleaning the incision area. Wiping at the area, touching the flap – that shouldn’t be outside my body – cleaning it was brief and painless. Just like the sensation that came over my head.

My head became heavy, and my eyesight narrowed. Like a TV flashback, the outer edges of my view started to go gray then black. I felt heavy, dizzy, but at the same time strangely light headed. Like when I hold my breath a bit too long. 

I grip the sink edges, saying out loud, “I need to sit.”

Carefully as possible, feeling my knees weaken, I sat on the bathmat. Jason leans in close to me, watching carefully as I focus on breathing.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just pass me the towel, I need to make sure this is dry before I put something on it.”

He did just that, well aware of basic first aid care, eyes never leaving my frame. I dab at the skin around the wound before pressing against the wound, carefully, itself. It has to be dry.

….

I forgot to take out my earbud before falling asleep? My side is cold. Why am I sweaty? My gums hurt.

“Hey, you’re ok, keep breathing, come on.” My name said firmly, demanding a response.

I gasp, pushing myself up to sitting. I’m waking up? But I shouldn’t be waking up, I was awake.  I take steady, controlled breaths, my heartrate spiking strangely, as if I’m catching my breath.

“Whoa, you’re ok. Babe? Babe, look at me,” Jason had a hand on my shoulder, steadying me as I sat there confused.

“What happened?” I ask, tongue pressing at the back of my front teeth, the ones that are sore. Why are my teeth sore?

“You fainted. Deep breathes, ok?”  His hand was warm on my skin, which was strange when I was so sweaty, so I should be hot?

“I did? Geez, what?”

“Yeah, come on, lets get you on the bed and we can finish taking care of that. Come on. Talk me through what you remember, where are you at right now?”  With barely a flinch he pulls me up, guiding me slowly to the bedroom and the bed right outside the bathroom. I sit there, shaking and catching up on the moment.

“I sat down because I felt dizzy. And…I was drying my skin off….and I woke up?”  I look up at him, shaken from the experience.

“Woke up? Alright, yeah you fainted but your eyes were open the entire time. You kept breathing and were only out for like 10 seconds but it probably wasn’t very fun.”  He kept his voice soft, moving away briefly to get a clean shirt for you to put on. “I’m going to finish cleaning and bandaging you, is that ok? Anything hurt?”

I shook my head, taking stock. “It doesn’t hurt, I think I just…I panicked. That’s not supposed to be outside, you know?”

He nodded, though I’m sure he’s been through and seen much worse. “I got you, it’s ok. Just don’t look while I’m taking care of it, ok? If you feel faint, let me know. You’ll lay down and I’ll lift your legs, ok?"

I nod, turning my head away as he moves to the bathroom to grab what he’ll need. Washed hands and fresh bandage, he comes back to quickly clean the site again, drying it gently.

“Ok?” He asks, noting my shaking fingers.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like I’m going down again.” I reassure him.

“Good, you’re taking it easy today.”

I nod again, a blessing of a nonverbal response.  Not even a second later I feel the adhesive of the bandage stick to my skin.

“There we go. All done. Let’s get you to the couch and some water in that system.” Jason said, fingers that gently pressed the bandage to my skin, tilting my head to look at him. He search my face, for what I’m not sure, before pressing the softest kiss to my forehead. “You’re ok. It happens.”

I sigh, relaxing some, ignoring the soreness from the bruised skin around the incision site, the ache in my gums, the shaking of my hands still, and the stuttering of my breath.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Thanks, handsome. Think you can handle that bit for me until it heals?” I stand slowly, paranoid now of weak knees.

“Hell yeah, we’re not doing this again if I can help it. And I can,” His hands held mine, giving me space to move at my own pace.

It was after I’d caught my breath on the couch, shaking subsided, that he spoke, “Kinda funny huh? You handle blood and guts on the regular, no problem. Who knew one little cut would knock you out?"

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Notes: Same said sister from above is a nurse now and I called to ask her about that tiny flap: she told me what she thinks (not concerned) and reminded me to just upkeep basic wound care (my husband, not me to prevent another fainting episode) and she gave us a good reminder with additional info about how to handle if I do faint again. She's awesome, seriously. <3

Jason in here is really just a place holder for my husband who handled this like a fucking champ too.

[take-that-depression]

AH!! THE FUCK??! LUCI??!!!!

Several hours later…

Lucifer: *blinks rapidly, dazed, vision swimming in and out of focus* Hhh… ngh— *one hand goes to his head, the other automatically to the heavy swell of his stomach* Bad… tickle… gods, that hurts…

He tries to take a steadying breath but it shudders. A cold sweat clings to him, dampening his clothes, running down his spine. His heart is thudding too fast—too loud—like it’s echoing inside his skull.

Lucifer: *sits hunched over in the chair he found, elbows on his knees* Okay… okay… just… just breathe… *but the moment he closes his eyes, the room tilts sharply, memory flashing of the moment he’d collapsed—gold blood on his lip, the shock of the floor rushing up—*

His breath catches in his throat.

Lucifer: N-No… no, no, no— *fingers tremble as he checks beneath his nose, terrified of seeing gold again* Not now, not again— *his breathing speeds up, too fast, too shallow*

His wings twitch uncontrollably, half-fanned in distress. His chest tightens, a spear of panic stabbing straight through his ribs. He can’t get air in—can’t get air out—

Lucifer: *voice cracking, barely above a whisper* Alastor… Abel… somebody… please—

He curls forward, arms protectively wrapping around his round belly as though shielding the little life inside him from his own spiraling body.

Lucifer: *frantic* I—I can’t breathe… I can’t… something’s wrong—something’s wrong— *his whole body trembling, breath hitching in panicked wheezes*

His vision blurs again. Spots dance in front of him. His throat feels too tight to pull air through. The baby shifts inside him, a heavy roll that makes his panic spike even higher.

Lucifer’s hands are still shaking when his phone buzzes violently in his pocket. The sound startles him—his heart jerks painfully—and he fumbles it out with unsteady fingers. When he sees the caller ID—*Charlie*—his breath hitches.

Lucifer: C–Charlie…? *answers, voice thin, wavering* Sweetheart?

Charlie: *on the other end, trying to stay calm but sounding hurt, tired* Dad… where did you go? You just left. Again.

Lucifer closes his eyes, guilt slamming into him so hard it worsens his dizziness.

Lucifer: I—I’m sorry, Char-Chat, truly, I didn’t mean— I wasn’t thinking straight, I— *he swallows, but his throat feels tight, like it’s closing*

Charlie: That’s the problem, Dad! You *never* think straight when it matters! I needed you there. I needed support and you just— *her voice cracks with frustration* —you vanished. I can’t keep relying on you only to get disappointed.

Lucifer’s wings curl around himself instinctively, like a shield. His breathing, already too fast, becomes shallow, fluttering.

Lucifer: Charlie please—sweetheart, listen— *his voice breaks* I didn’t mean to make you feel abandoned, I swear to you, I… I just— *another trembling breath* —I’m not well, I—

Charlie: Dad, please don’t make this about you right now. I’m *tired*. I’m tired of the excuses. I’m tired of you running. I’m tired of hoping you’ll stay when you don’t.

The words spear straight through him. His whole body jerks, breath sharp and painful.

Lucifer: N–No, sweetie, I’m trying, I’m trying so hard—please don’t think I don’t love you— I just— *his chest clenches, panic squeezing his lungs* —I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—

Charlie: *voice shaking with contained anger* I can’t… do this right now. I can’t.

Lucifer: Charlie, please— *a sob breaks out of him, humiliating, desperate* —don’t hang up, please, I need you, I—

Charlie: Goodbye, Dad.

The line clicks.

Lucifer freezes. For one horrible second, there is no sound except the faint buzz of the disconnected call. Then everything crashes at once.

Lucifer: N–No— *he drops the phone, clutching his chest, wings trembling violently* No, no, no—please—sweetheart—starlight— *his breathing turns into broken gasps, each one sharper than the last*

His tears spill freely now, staining his hands, dripping onto his shirt. His vision blurs into watery light.

Lucifer: *voice cracking into a wail* I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I didn’t mean— *he curls forward, clutching his belly as another wave of panic crushes his lungs* Please don’t give up on me—please—please—

His breaths come in shorter, shallower bursts, like he’s drowning in air.

Lucifer: *hoarse, panicking harder* I can’t—can’t breathe—Charlie— *another sob* —someone… anyone… help…

[fourwingedwriter]

A Pause in Work - Part 3

AN: I love all of my ocs :)

First Part - Previous - Next - Master Post

CWs: Fainting spell, shoulder injury

----

Grunt work is something I rarely complain about. Sure, it's a workout and can be exhausting, but it's better than sitting in the house all day. Me and Nova never enjoyed sitting around much, which is why we started doing quests.

I kind of enjoyed working with a shovel, tilling the soil to prep for the garden. It was sort of therapeutic, the feeling of earth parting beneath my feet. I dont think I could do it all day, but for now it's kinda nice.

Nova was in charge of raking up and moving all of the rocks on the top. He hummed along with the vinyl our host was playing.

The baker, who's name we learned to be Aspen, had this really cool music player and a collection of vinyls with music I've never heard before. They were sung by people I knew were long dead, which was always kind of interesting to me. The vast majority of the musical records in this world were made by people who are now dead.

"How's it going out here?" Our host asked, now with an apron on, the black fabric dusted in flour.

"Pretty good!" Nova responded, pausing to look up at him, "Wouldn't mind some water though."

I hummed my agreement, basically jumping on the step of my shovel. I weighed just enough to properly get this thing into the ground.

"Well, let me see what I can get for you." Aspen turned back inside and started to work once more.

Nova turned to me, "Have you seen Orim? He went to grab the seeds from the boxes but he's been gone for a while."

I thought for a moment, a bit of panic reaching me "I don't think I have, let me go check."

Orim had a condidion where he would faint randomly, a problem we couldn't prevent but required close monitoring. There had been a concerning amount of times he was plagued with headaches as a result of hitting his head. Even once he had gotten a concussion and spent hours laying in his and Nova's room to recover. It was one of the first times I noticed how gentle Nova was with him.

As I approached the side of the building, I ran the protocols through my head. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the possibility.

Turning the corner, I found him crumpled over the box. I approached him quickly, not too worried, he hadn't fallen by the look of it.

Kneeling, I pushed the hair from his face, noticing his eyes were just coming back into focus, "Hey man, you still with me?"

Orim groaned, "Sorry... bad timing..." he tried pushed himself up from the box then lowered himself, clutching his shoulder, "Ow..."

I cursed under my breath, standing up and shouting, "Nova get over here!"

A tool clattered to the ground, quickly followed by the appearance of the boy around the corner of the building. His emergency response was always like this, making him freeze and stare for a short while before reacting.

"Is he okay?" Nova asked, falling to their knees beside him, gently putting a hand between his shoulder blades.

Orim supported his arm, grimacing against the pain as he tried to sit up once more. This time he got all the way back, barely supressing the sounds of pain which escaped him. He leaned into Nova, a few tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Ori?" They supported him, visibly panicking about his wellbeing.

I leaned in, making eye contact with him, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"...no- I'll be fine. Give me a moment-" he fainted again, going limp in Nova's arms.

I stood, "I'm getting help."

----

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mellowwhumps @whumperofworlds @crimsons-whump-pile @mysticalshadow351 @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

[brokenfoetus]

[oft-goes-awry]

It's all fun and games until the paramedics get called.

[brokenfoetus]