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"You told me it was going to knock him out for a few hours not send him into a fucking seizure.”
The Many Pains of Fredrick Beauchamp | Witches of East End S02
Teena Marie's Untimely Death
Teena Marie's Untimely Death
So somebody seized and they had both decordicate and decrerbrate posturing, it was weird.
It was my first status epilepticus.
And three of these words are not in spell check so don’t judge me 🚑
16 Bucky has another seizure (Whoa Bessie) (emeto) please amd thank uou!
Just to be sure we’re all on the same page, this is set in my AU ‘verse where Steve is trans and Bucky is a war veteran/amputee.
_____
Steve rolls over and stretches his arms over his head. His elbow brushes James’s warm back, and he can’t help but smile. “Good morning,” he says sleepily, sliding an embrace around James’s shoulders. “Happy Saturday.”
“Hmph,” James grunts into the pillow. “’M tired.”
Steve chuckles. He lifts his head to peek at the alarm clock. It’s nearly nine, but there’s nothing on the schedule today. “No rush to get up,” he whispers, burying his nose in James’s hair.
“…good.”
They lounge until eleven. Eventually Steve’s stomach starts rumbling, and he pushes the covers down to his waist before easing into a seated position. “You feel like brunch?” he asks.
“Brunch?” James repeats.
“Isn’t that what you call it when you sleep straight through to lunchtime?”
James shrugs. He pushes his hair off his forehead and sighs.
“You feeling ok?” Steve asks. James’s sleep patterns are unpredictable, and he’s as used to easing him through a night of insomnia and nightmares as he is to waking him in the morning when he sleeps like the dead.
James shrugs again. “I…don’t know.”
Steve palms his forehead, then leans in for a kiss. “You don’t feel warm.”
“I feel…weird.”
“Hungry?” Steve tries. His own stomach answers in the affirmative.
“Not…really,” James says slowly. “Sorry.”
“Sometimes you’re so empty, you just feel sick.” Steve swings his legs out of bed. “How about I start you some toast?”
“I, um. I guess?” James sits up. Wrinkles appear between his eyes as he squints at Steve.
“I’ll get it going for you. Maybe some eggs, too, so there’s protein if you feel up to it.”
James doesn’t respond. He stares blankly into his lap.
Steve smiles at him, then snags a t-shirt off the chair in the corner. He pulls it over his head as he pads to the kitchen to give James some space.
He starts a pot of coffee, then Steve pours himself a glass of orange juice to sip while he prepares the food. Soon the warm, yeasty smell of toast fills the apartment. He smears butter on a slice and devours it before cracking eggs into a bowl and beginning to beat them with a fork.
Steve’s dividing the scramble onto two plates when James finally emerges from the bedroom. He has a hoodie on over his t-shirt and boxers, the empty left sleeve hanging by his hip.
“Hey, just in time,” Steve says. “If you don’t want eggs, we can save them for later.” He pulls two more slices of toast from the toaster. “You want butter?”
“Hm.” James opens a cabinet and fumbles for a mug. “Coffee first.”
“How could I forget, you’re a coffee first kind of guy.” He gives James a playful pinch to the waistband. “I’ll get it, Buck. Why don’t you go sit down?”
James doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move, either. He tenses under Steve’s touch, and his knuckles go white around the handle of the mug clenched in his grasp.
“Buck? You ok?” Steve leans around him to peer into James’s eyes. There’s a split second of connection, then James’s eyelids flutter and he starts to fall.
The mug hits the floor first and smashes, then James crumples. He goes down on one knee and his stump shoulder, then remains on his side as the seizure takes hold.
Steve hurriedly sweeps the shards of broken ceramic to the side with his bare foot, then sinks into a crouch at James’s side. He’s been trained on the basics for situations like this, but it’s the first time he’s seen it happen. Steve hovers his hands an inch over James’s quivering arm. He knows he shouldn’t touch him. It’s hard to fight the instinct to provide physical comfort.
“It’s ok, Bucky,” he whispers. “You’re gonna be ok, just hold on.”
A guttural groan escapes between James’s clenched teeth. Steve isn’t sure if it’s a response to his words, but he keeps murmuring encouragements. “Yep. It’s ok. I’m right here, Buck, alright?”
It seems like the seizure lasts forever, though it can’t be more than a minute. It occurs to Steve that he should probably count the seconds, but by the time he starts, James’s taught muscles begin to relax. He lets out a soft whimper, and Steve promptly loses his place.
“Hey, Buck,” Steve breathes.
“Hmm.” James’s shoulders twitch. At first Steve thinks it’s an aftershock of the tremors moving through his body, but a wet noise comes from his throat and he vomits onto the floor.
Steve slides around to the other side of James’s head so he’s not kneeling in the mess and gently holds his arm with one hand while he smooths James’s hair back with the other. He only has bile to purge, and the heaves quickly turn dry. “It’s ok,” Steve intones. “You’re ok.”
“Hmm.” James’s lashes flutter, and he turns his head a fraction of an inch to look up at Steve.
“Hey.” Steve feels his cheeks turn up in a grin. “There you are.”
“Steve…” James works to push the word out.
“Shhh, it’s ok.” Steve pats his shoulder. “You had a seizure. Do you, uh, think you’re back with me?”
“Um. Y-yeah.” His voice is rough, but there’s recognition in James’s eyes.
“Good.” Steve pushes sweaty hair from James’s forehead.
James plants his hand on the floor in front of him and starts to push up. His elbow trembles with the effort. Steve wraps his arms around James’s chest to support him. “There you go.”
As soon as he’s upright, James’s shoulders lurch forward as he gags again. “Ffffuck,” he breathes, turning his head to dab his lips on his shoulder.
“It’s ok,” Steve says sympathetically.
“I…don’t feel good.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Buck.” Steve holds him up as James coughs weakly. “When you think you can stand up, I’ll help you go lie on the couch. Then I’ll give your doctor a call…” Steve’s thinking out loud, but he quiets when James slides his shaking hand over Steve’s.
“Steve,” he rasps.
“Yeah?”
“I just…you’re here.”
“Yeah,” Steve says.
“…good.”
Listen yall, I know they're barely a virals fandom out here but i love these books and i always will, so you need to talk to someone about them? IM YOUR BITCH?
wanna talk about ships, bad plot points? love a character so much it hurts? got a theory? or just need to vent bc you feel like your eyes are gonna pop out of your skull if you don't discuss it with someone. I'm here, no matter how long its been since I've posted this.
long live the virals pack.
Whumptober18
Day 29: Seizure
@la-vie-en-whump’s Whumptober Challenge
“Sam!” Daisy was frantic as she watched Sam’s muscles begin to tighten and release, and still he did not stir.
Suddenly, Sam’s body spasmed, his muscles cording tightly under his skin and arching his back off the mattress. His muscle relaxed, then immediately contracted, stiffening his entire frame. His arms and legs jerked rhythmically.
“Dean!” she yelled, watching as the convulsions wracked Sam’s body for a double handful of seconds. Then he went still, completely motionless.
Dean rolled out bed with a grunt and limped over to them. “Daisy, what’s wrong?”
“Sam had a seizure. He won’t wake up.” Daisy slapped Sam’s face lightly, then a little harder. There was no response.
“That black stuff?”
Daisy nodded wordlessly, moving aside the towel. Instantly, black tendrils swarmed the open area, slipping behind his neck and gliding over his shoulder. She replaced it immediately. “They’re moving faster.”
“What do we do?”
Daisy shook her head and whispered, “I don’t know.”
They stared at Sam helplessly for a moment, then Dean snapped his fingers. “Do you have a rosary in your bag?”
“I do, but—”
Dean didn’t let her finish. “Keep trying to wake him up.” Moving carefully, he retrieved the rosary, then made his way across the cabin towards the small bathroom.
“Come on, Sam,” Daisy muttered, patting his head, chafing his hands, and shaking him gently. “Wake up. Wake up.” She was rewarded with a brief fluttering of his eyelids, but nothing more.
“Can you move him?” Dean called, and she heard the sound of running water.
“I’ll try,” she replied. She gripped Sam’s wrists and tugged him into a sitting position, moving the wet towel around his shoulders. He slumped forward as Daisy shifted his legs off the bed and rotated him so he was facing her. Bracing his feet with her own, she pulled him up, then twisted so that he draped over her like a backpack. She shifted his arms until they fell over her shoulders, then held on tightly. Bending forward slightly, she took a step, then another, and then another until she had crossed the open space between the bunks and the bathroom.
Dean helped as much as he could when she lowered Sam to the floor, but he was severely limited by his injured leg and his broken rib. Dean had the shower going, warm water spraying the far wall. There was no tub, just a shallow dip in the floor so the water could run off into a drain. Daisy propped Sam against the wall beneath the spray and looked at Dean questioningly.
“I put the rosary in the shower head,” he said, pointing.
Daisy looked down at Sam. The black tendrils, which had swiftly covered his chest, sides, and back when the towel had been removed, were fading to nothing beneath the shower of holy water. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw his eyes flutter open.
“But we can’t leave him in the shower forever,” she said, worried. “Hang on.”
Daisy stepped back into the kitchen and rummaged around for a mug, then filled it from the basin of holy water. She returned with it, kneeling next to Sam and holding it to his lips.
“Drink this,” she urged.
With water running down his face in rivulets and soaking his jeans, Sam blinked at her without comprehension until she tipped the mug up and let the liquid pool at Sam’s lips. He opened his mouth and took a long drink while Daisy held her breath.
Sam pulled away, pain contorting his face as he was seized by a coughing fit, spewing black water across the floor. Dean recoiled, and Daisy watched it swirl, fizz, and spiral towards the drain.