#tw: seizure
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I like the idea that Ford has seizures after a Weirdmageddon.
The idea is cruel, but quite real, I doubt that everyone came out healthy and unharmed after Bill's abuse.
(Yes, I love pain and suffering.)
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The Sacred Disease
Emir's second core derangement, next to hearing the voice of God. His seizures are triggered by broken glass (both the sound and the sight).
Not ideal when a Gargoyle just broke through your Church window after mauling your chest open.
#urbanknightart#vtm#wod#vtm: darkening spires#vampire the masquerade#world of darkness#Malkavian#tw: blood#tw: seizure#oc: emir#oc: tertius#oc: æthelfrid#vtm: dark ages
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what did jack do to yn that he still feels guilty about
warning: seizure, alcohol consumption and smoking weed
jack was having a party with all his friends.
your parent were out of town, luke was at a sleepover and quinn was at university only leaving jack, you and an empty house.
“i’m gonna need you to stay in your room,” jack ordered. you furrowed your eyebrows at his request, you thought the two of you were going to bond before he left.
“what? i thought we were having movie night jacky,” you asked, trying to hide your disappointment.
jack shook his head.
“i’m having a party and i can’t have my little sister around ruining it,”
“i’m fourteen jack. and i’ve been to parties before, you’ve literally seen me!” you argued.
jack rolled his eyes. “fine you can come downstairs but one of the guys that you and i both know have to be the one giving you your drink okay,”
you nodded and hugged your brother tight. “i’m gonna miss you,” you whispered.
by the time you got ready and psyched yourself to go down, the party was in full swing.
jack had lost sight of you almost two hours ago. he’d seen you chatting to some guys that you seemed to know when he’d got sucked into a conversation with a pretty girl.
alex was the one who found you.
he’d seen you go out with some people to smoke a joint and he kept an eye out just incase something went wrong.
when he saw one of the guys in the group carry you upstairs, alex followed. along the way he found trevor and called him to follow as he ran to your room.
as soon as the two of them entered your room, they saw the way your body was flaying around and foam filled your mouth.
trevor ran to turn you to your side as alex removed your top, placing a towel over your chest. cole walked into the room and froze before running out to find jack.
“jack! we need you it’s y/n/n,”
at first the middle hughes rolled his eyes but when he noticed more of his friends standing around his sisters room he panicked.
“someone get everyone out of the house,” jack muttered.
your seizure had stopped but your eyes were still closed. jack ran to your side, he climbed onto your bed and stroked your hair as trevor tried to give you some water.
once everyone had left and trevor, alex and cole were the only ones who stayed, trevor turned to his friend in anger.
“what the fuck jack, you had a party and she was here. i thought you said everyone was out of the house, you weren’t even watching out for her!” trevor exploded.
jack stuttered, he didn’t know what to say.
“some guy gave her a joint, i know she’s done one before with us around but i think they put something in her drink but i didn’t see that. i followed her as soon as i saw her walk out,” alex muttered.
“we were supposed to have movie night before i leave but i just couldn’t. it’s easier for me to leave without knowing how much it will hurt,” jack whispered.
trevor rolled his eyes.
“you better pray that she’s alright jack of we’ll have to take her to the hospital and ellen will find out,” trevor added.
jack never spoke to you again after that.
the guilt that something terrible could’ve happened to you ate at him.
#hughes!sister#hughes sister imagine#jack hughes blurb#tw: drinking#tw: drugs#tw: seizure#tw: marijuana
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I’m the Anon that had the seizure, yeah I’m doing better, skipping a class tomorrow though. You just KNOW Rooster is immediately on guard, he’s basically a guard dog at this point.
I’m glad to hear you’re doing better! Take all the time you need to rest and recover ♥️
Rooster would move heaven and earth to make sure that you felt safe and comfortable, and he’d do everything he could think of to help you feel better!
Here’s a little something for you, and I really do hope you’re feeling better!
“Babe, you really don’t need to take the day off from work. I promise I’ll be fine,” you insisted, gazing up at your boyfriend as he stood over your side of the bed, a look of determination on his face as he fluffed the pillows supporting your back.
You’d called Bradley in tears the night before, asking if he could come over to spend the night. You’d had a seizure alone in your apartment and you didn’t want to be by yourself.
Always your hero, he had dropped everything he was doing with the guys to rush to your side, stopping just long enough to pick up your favorite ice cream and snacks before he was there, cuddling with you in bed and keeping a careful eye on you through the night.
You had made the decision to cancel all your plans for the day before you’d fallen asleep last night, but you hadn’t meant for him to cancel his as well. He worked for the Navy, for crying out loud. It wasn’t like he could just call out whenever he felt like it.
Bradley just touched your cheek lightly in response, the smallest of smiles curving his lips, though worry was still brewing in his dark eyes. “I know I don’t need to, but I want to. I want to be here for you,” he said, brushing a kiss against your forehead and smoothing your hair back tenderly.
“I probably won’t have another one,” you told him in a small voice, a hint of the fear you’d felt last night creeping into your tone. “Not for a while anyway.”
You noticed the way his jaw clenched as he sat down on the side of your bed, taking your hands in his. It was a telltale sign that he was concerned or afraid about something.
“I know,” he murmured, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “I just—I hate that you were all alone when it happened. I never want you to feel alone like that,” he said gently, lowering his head so that he could press a kiss to your hands.
“I’m not alone,” you assured him, pulling one hand out of his grasp so that you could cup his cheek. “I have my watchdog boyfriend,” you told him with a cheeky wink, smiling despite the recent circumstances.
“Yes, you do, baby,” he nodded, turning his head and planting a kiss on your palm. “You always do.”
“I love you, Bradley Bradshaw,” you whispered, leaning forward to brush your lips against his.
He smiled at that, softly cradling your face in his hands. “I love you, too, baby.”
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Day 8 - Seizure
Julian was aware that he may have gone too far this time. Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Shumei - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23743470.shumei-tw. This one’s EXTRA dark, you have been warned.
TW/CWs: Medical abuse!!
Julian was aware that he may have gone too far this time. Shu was out of his mind with fever. It was so bad that his boyfriend couldn’t even get a sentence out. Julian was actually giving him full doses of medication and yet the fever still wasn’t breaking. He held Shu up in bed, his hands planted firmly on Shu’s forearms to keep him from falling to the side bonelessly. “Shu, darling, Shumei, look at me, please.”
Shu’s eyes sluggishly moved in Julian’s direction, but Julian could tell he wasn’t actually seeing anything. This was bad. Really bad. Julian was actually truly worried for Shu’s health and he didn’t like that feeling.
Julian stroked Shu’s hot face gently, eliciting only weak whimpers from the delicate man in his arms. “Darling? Can you hear me?”
There was a long pause, the only sound Shu’s labored breathing until he grunted in some weak acknowledgement. Okay, at least Shu could hear him, Julian thought to himself. “Shu, I’m going to draw you a bath. Hang on for me, okay?” No response this time.
Julian didn’t want to leave Shu even for a second, but the master bath was connected to their bedroom so he was at least able to leave the door open and watch Shu while he filled up the tub. The sound of rushing water was now familiar - he’d given Shu many baths over the past year, but he’d never felt so anxious for it to fill up. It seemed like the water level wasn’t rising fast enough. He made sure it was lukewarm before he stopped the drain and returned to Shumei’s side. “Just a few minutes, Shu.”
Shu twitched in bed. At first Julian thought that was a good sign that he heard Julian - but then he didn’t stop shaking. His hands were balled into tight fists that pulsed tightly, and soon his boyfriend was straining his neck upwards. “Shu?” Julian asked. The tremors only grew stronger, more pronounced, and Julian realized Shu was having a seizure. “Shit,” he swore. He took the pillows away and pulled back the covers so Shu couldn’t get tangled in anything. He pushed Shu onto his side and started counting.
One... ten... twenty...
His boyfriend’s shaking grew more violent. Grand mal seizure, Julian’s brain supplied. If they were at the hospital, he could order an IV push antiepileptic right away, but they were just at home. There was no one else around. Usually Julian loved that it was just the two of them in the apartment, but for once he wished someone else were here to help him wait through this.
Thirty... fourty... fifty...
A minute had never felt so long to Julian in his life. Foamy, red tinged sputum began to form in the corners of Shu’s lips and Julian winced. Shu must have bitten his tongue.
Sixty... seventy... eighty...
The smell of urine, blood and bile mixed in the air. All scents that Julian was used to in the hospital, but in their home it felt markedly wrong. He couldn’t go this far again, he told himself. He had to take better care of Shu, otherwise he wouldn’t have a boyfriend to take care of at all.
Ninety... ninety-five...
The shaking was easing up now, Shu’s body relaxing ever so slightly. Julian grabbed his stethoscope from the bedside table and listened intently, relieved when he could hear Shu’s airway had not been obstructed. His boyfriend’s lips were tinged blue, but his heart was beating strong and fast. He’d be fine. Oxygen would have been helpful, but Julian didn’t have any at home. He’d have to order some right away.
Shu groaned weakly, no discernable words to be made out. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s over,” Julian said, wiping a trail of blood that ran down Shu’s chin with his thumb. “It’s all over.”
Julian stood and glanced back at the bathroom, which immediately prompted him to run to turn the faucet off. The tub had overflown, leaving a thin layer of water on the porcelain floor that soaked the bath mats. He swore and threw several dry towels down to at least make the bathroom walkable before he went back to the bed and undressed Shu. His clothes were damp with sweat and urine and clung to Shu’s skin; Julian peeled them off of his boyfriend and then carried his naked form to the bathtub. Not bothering to get undressed himself, he stepped into the tub and lowered Shu into it. More water splashed loudly over the edges of the vessel. He’d deal with it later; right now, he had to lower Shu’s fever before his boyfriend had another seizure.
The water was slightly cooler than room temperature, so while it wasn’t exactly pleasant, it wasn’t the ice bath that Shu’s body reacted to like it was. He cried out loudly, unseeing eyes flying open in panic as Julian held him in the water. He writhed in Julian’s grasp, but thankfully he was too weak to get anywhere.
“I know it hurts. I’m sorry, you’ll feel better soon,” Julian whispered to him. “Just hold on a bit longer.”
No answer. Julian hadn’t expected one. He cupped handfuls of water and ran them over Shu’s face. “I’ve got you, I’m right here.” The noises Shu was making broke Julian’s heart. He usually liked when Shu cried, but this was different. Shu wasn’t conscious enough to show the emotions that Julian loved - he couldn’t feel sad or needy or weak. He couldn’t feel anything except pain, and that wasn’t what Julian wanted. He wanted Shu to rely on him and him only - not be completely at the mercy of just anybody because he was too unconscious to tell otherwise.
“You won’t get this sick again, I promise,” Julian said softly, because he knew Shu couldn’t understand him. He rubbed the blood off of Shu’s face and began to drain the tub; the water was a sickly brown color that disgusted him. “I won’t let you. I’ll be more prepared next time.” He leaned forward and kissed Shu’s burning forehead.
Once the bath was empty, Julian filled it once more while they were still inside so that he could rinse Shu off with clean water. Shu was shivering violently, but Julian felt that his temperature had lowered at least slightly, so it had worked. He picked Shu up and carried him back to the bedroom, the soaked towels on the floor squelching unpleasantly beneath his bare feet. He placed Shu down in the chair next to the bed, pulling a fresh pair of underwear on his boyfriend and pulling a t-shirt over his head. He covered Shu with a blanket then changed the sheets quickly, throwing the soiled ones straight into the wash along with the soaked towels and pajamas. There, things were back in order. He changed his own dry pajamas and then put Shu back into bed.
He held Shu’s limp form close to him as he called into the hospital pharmacy, requesting all manner of IV medications that normally would only be available to home health agencies. His assistant would bring it to his house - it would only take a couple of hours to arrive. Home oxygen would arrive tomorrow, just in case.
“Ju... li...”
Julian looked down at his boyfriend in surprise. He hadn’t expected Shu to wake up yet, but Shu was tough, he reasoned. It was why he’d pushed him so hard - because Julian had watched him take so much already.
He held Shu closer to him. “Yes, darling, I’m here.”
“My mouth... hurts...”
Julian nodded. “You bit your tongue. I’ll let you have some ice chips later. Not yet.” He didn’t think it was a good idea for Shu to try and swallow yet.
“So tired,” Shu mumbled, his eyes closing again. “I can’t...”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Julian told him gently. “I’m here to take care of you.”
Shu’s eyes fluttered open once more for just a second. “Thank you,” he whispered. Julian felt his heart swell and he smiled.
“You don’t have to thank me, Shu. I love you. I’ll always love you no matter what.” Shu fell asleep once again and Julian kissed him a few more times. He loved Shu more than anything else. Shu was perhaps the only thing he loved. Today had been scary; it’d gone too far. But the thanks he got at the end of the day had made it worth it. The look in Shu’s eyes - fully dependent and trusting in Julian - was enough to remind Julian of every reason why he was doing this. He meant it when he said he intended to take care of Shu forever and ever - for as long as he could make sure Shu needed him.
#ShionWrites#ailesswhumptober2023#ailesswhumptoberday8#ailesswhumptober#day 8#whump#oc: Shu#sickfic#sick whump#medical whump#illness whump#male whump#angst#hurt/comfort#fever whump#fever kink#illness kink#medical abuse#medical torture#tw: seizure#tw: medical abuse
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If You Will Let Me
An X-Files Post-Milagro Fic
WC: 4,200
This is chapter is part of a larger fic on AO3. If you like, the full work is available here.
TW: Demonic possession, Demons, Physical Harm, Trauma, Medical Trauma, Mild Alcohol Use
____________________
Chapter 19: Protecting Us
Sleep had come in short, interrupted segments during the red-eye flight from Chicago. Though both were leery of letting down their guard, sleep deprivation had taken its toll, and Scully had found herself succumbing to the constant white noise and gentle vibration of the airplane as it carried them home. Instead of nightmares or demons, she was roused by turbulence and sporadic cries from a baby a few seats in front of them.
Through slitted eyes, she saw Mulder’s head cocked back, lolled to one side. His slow, quiet snores were strangely reassuring. Here, there was rest. A cautiously optimistic thought drifted through her tired mind. Maybe they really did leave the demons behind them. Sighing contentedly, she carefully lay her head on his shoulder and drifted back to sleep.
The plane landed in DC well after midnight, leaving both agents partially rested, but groggy and sluggish as they collected bags and headed out to the parking garage. Their footsteps echoed through the empty concrete cavern, closing in on the car. Each step was further from the calm security of the airplane cabin, further from the reassurance of other people around them.
“Just us again.” Mulder offered a thin grin. “Ready for more quality time?”
Scully pressed her lips together, looking up at him. “I can’t be that bad, can I?”
“Never.” He meant it, but somehow the sentiment caught in his throat and the word fell to the ground, hollow.
Weary, they headed home through empty downtown streets, uneasy silence between them. Bleak buildings towered above them, their shadowed facades sliced by dull blades of flickering street lights. The darkness was suffocating.
Neither dared to mention it.
____________________
The lights in Scully’s bedroom were on, but it did little to calm the anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach. The unease had only grown since leaving the airport. Since being alone with Mulder again. She sat up for what felt like the hundredth time, studying him carefully.
There had been no question, once they had finally landed in DC, of where Mulder would stay. His apartment was still drenched in the memories of her blood, and she couldn’t bring herself to sleep alone. But her bed felt smaller, shrunken down by their bodies prudently spaced apart. It was uncomfortable. Awkward. Mulder was doing his best, she knew. He was respecting her insistence on putting their relationship on hold… But it all felt stilted. Cold. The void between them was mere inches, but somehow insurmountable. It was a chasm she had created for protection, but it only served as a glaring reminder of her vulnerability, her loneliness. Her emptiness.
It ached to be filled.
She felt the pang just as much, if not more. Their breathing seemed magnified, echoing within the emptiness, reminding her of what should be. With each breath, she cursed the house. Cursed the demons. Cursed the chasm of her own making.
Cursed the breaths she took and let out, silent, too afraid to begin again.
Sleep wouldn’t offer her a reprieve. It kept its distance, just as Mulder did. Just out of reach. She fidgeted with the oversized comforter, examining the machine-made stitching that divided the blanket into thick patterned poufs. Stitching fabric, stitching skin. That was easy. But all of this… this was not.
The question of Padgett was layered thickly over the uneasy confusion between them. That man… or body… or spirit… She couldn’t reconcile the pieces. She had been held fast and attacked by a man she knew to be dead. But it had happened. Hadn’t it? Residual visions of the cold corpse strangling her, cutting into her, challenged the validity of her memories of the body. The autopsy. Everything.
It had been him. But logically, it couldn’t be.
Except…
Samantha hadn’t been real. Mulder had said as much. She coveted the certainty he seemed to possess. In the midst of insomnia and awkward tension, it seemed as good a topic to bring up as any. Anything to break this barrier of emptiness.
She cleared her throat.
“Mulder, how did you know it wasn’t her?”
He stared at her for a long moment. The silence was sharpened by the disbelief and hurt etched on his face. When he finally spoke, it was with the voice of someone betrayed. “How could you ask that, Scully?”
“I-”
“Don’t you think I would know the difference between my own sister and an evil spirit?”
She hurried to clarify, struck by the anger in his eyes. “Mulder, I do, that’s why I’m asking- what was your litmus test? How did you know? Because I really think that was Padgett… but that’s impossible. He’s in the morgue.” She licked her lips nervously. “Isn’t he?”
Her eyes screamed the fear she refused to admit.
Mulder’s glare softened.
“Oh.” He lowered his head, rubbing his forehead with his hands. “I’m sorry, Scully. I shouldn’t have thought-”
“It’s okay.” Her fingers touched his. “We’re just… both on edge.”
His hand closed, enveloping her small fingers in his palm. He squeezed softly, briefly, before his hand retreated back to his side of the canyon between them. He gazed toward the corner of the room, at nothing in particular, recalling the demons that had manifested the shell of his sister.
“It was almost her. Almost.” His voice was grim. “It looked like her, walked like her. Acted a lot like her. But the voice.” He nodded, as if to himself. “That’s how I knew for sure. Every time she- they- appeared, the voice would be close to what I remember, but not quite. It’s like… they could get every other part of my memory of her right, but something stopped them from having her voice.”
“Like they didn’t know how?”
“Or they couldn’t. I’m not sure yet, but I think it has something to do with possession. Owning. But the demons don’t have my sister, they don’t have her soul, or her voice. So they… try, with what they can get from our minds, but it’s a facsimile.”
Scully’s brow furrowed. “Like a bad photocopy.”
“Right.”
Crossing her arms, she straightened herself up. The implications of Mulder’s theory shook her. “If you’re right… they have him.” Her blue eyes were uneasy. “That voice… the body… it was Padgett.”
“You’re sure?”
She looked away. “I’m sure. I don’t know how they would have gotten him… unless he isn’t in the morgue anymore.”
Mulder thought for a moment. “What if it isn’t about the body at all? Maybe what they need is the spirit. The soul.”
The bedroom fell silent again, save for their breathing. She felt him watching her, carefully, like a parent watches a child who has just fallen hard. Checking for signs of injury, of fear. Ready to console and reassure. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she resented it.
“I’m fine, Mulder. Really. And anyway, maybe they won’t come here. We’re so far from that place.”
Mulder studied her, the skeptical eyebrow she usually wore planted firmly out of place on his forehead. “How do you think demons travel, Scully?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Well, I don’t know.”
“I don't know either, but I doubt a few miles are too much for them.” He considered. “I should be thrilled you’re so open to demonic possession as a possibility, really. Never thought I’d see the day. Wish it was better circumstances though.”
She cast an irritated sideways glare.
“I’m not just open to anything. I know what I saw. This particular incident- it’s hard for me to refute.”
“But you could.” His tone was flat. He sat up alongside her.
She shrugged. “Anyone could. It could be hallucinations induced by psychosis, perhaps exacerbated by sleep deprivation, or-”
“That’s what you believe?”
His voice held a tinge of ridicule, but she chose to ignore it.
“Of course not, Mulder.”
He nodded, then looked at her pointedly. “You don’t believe it, but that’s what you’ll say to Kersh?”
Scully sighed.
“Not just that, no, but I do feel it’s my obligation to provide all the facts as well as offer plausible explanations. I’m aware of what Kersh will think if I only present one account with little or no verifiable proof.”
Mulder scoffed. “That’s my point. You’re good at that. Explaining things away. We were almost destroyed, and possessed, and you come up with some alternative, something that’s logical, and safe.”
“There has to be an explanation for what we experienced, Mulder. Supernatural or otherwise. I’m not denying what we saw, what happened. I was there too, remember?” She felt anger rising and tried to tamp it down. “And what’s so bad about being safe?”
“Safe isn’t always what’s right. Or best.”
She eyed him carefully, her lips sealed in a grim line, and stood slowly. Arms crossed. Shielding her heart. “This isn’t about the case, is it?”
He held her tired gaze with his own exhausted eyes.
“Maybe I should sleep on the couch.” He sighed as he pushed aside the plush comforter. His feet padded down on her floor.
She watched, pensive, caught between turning away in defeat and anger, or lunging at his hand in desperation. Her body failed her, and she stood dumbly, staring. As he turned and grabbed his pillow, she cleared her throat and found a quiet sliver of her voice.
“I’m trying to protect you. To protect us. All the I love yous in the world mean nothing if we’re dead.”
Mulder stopped short, pillow dangling from his unconsciously tight fist. He took a deep breath before he spoke. “I respectfully disagree, Scully. Every time I said ‘I love you’ to my sister, it mattered, every time you said it to your father. And to your sister. You can’t say death negates that- you’re the one with a good family. A nice, loving Catholic upbringing- how am I the one explaining this to you?”
His eyes bore into her, demanding an answer that she couldn’t give.
It was no easier for her to banish the demons herself than it was to admit to him: fully loving someone, anyone at all, was confusing. His idea of love in her family was so very opposite her actual experience. Much as the Scully household had lauded it, love was a word. A duty. What she found with him was different from any of the compulsory, sanitized definitions she had learned in childhood. She found herself possessed by it, but paralyzed by her own confusion and fear.
When she finally spoke, it was cautious. Timid. As if her voice carried words that would shatter, should she dare throw them carelessly.
In truth, the words couldn’t shatter. But she could.
“I think… you know more about love, believe more about it, than you say you do.” She drew in a deep breath. “More than I do… but I - I want to learn...” Suddenly she felt astoundingly ignorant. Love should be the first thing learned in life. But what she had learned, had experienced, seemed horrifically wrong. A shadow of what should have been.
If her assertion meant anything to him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he surveyed her thoroughly, almost clinically, studying the creases in her forehead, the thin, drawn line of lips pursed tight. The squeezed skin and fabric on her chest from protective crossed arms, wrapped too tightly. The blinking of pale eyes that fought emotion. He was a profiler at work.
Finally, his eyes rested back on hers.
“Do you feel protected?”
Scully pressed her lips together even tighter, the soft rose color draining from them in favor of nervous white. She lowered her gaze, well aware that he already knew the answer.
“Me either, Scully.” He ran his fingers through his hair and over his jaw, raking over scratchy beard stubble. “Listen. I’m tired, I'm frustrated and I don’t see a point in pretending there’s nothing between us when there is. And we know it. And I’m pretty sure the demons know it too, or I wouldn’t have ended up a possessed puppet on the floor.” His voice was rising, exasperated. “And then, after shoving me away the entire day, you try to tell me that love is meaningless? I don’t understand, Scully. I’m trying. But I don’t.”
“I didn’t mean that it’s meaningless. It isn’t meaningless.” She felt hot tears she had fought so hard to contain, and turned abruptly. “I’m getting us something to drink. That might help.”
She moved to the doorway, checking each corner carefully as she went as a matter of course. And paranoia.
Mulder looked at the clock on her bedside table. 2:37 a.m. He blew a heavy sigh. “I dunno if that’s the best idea, Scully. We have to be back at work in 6 hours.”
She shrugged and left the bedroom without looking back.
____________________
He should go after her.
He stood staring, his lips twisted in an uncomfortable frown. Maybe he had been too harsh… almost certainly, he realized. They were both haggard from the past few days, and he felt his patience stretched too thin, balanced precariously on the blade of a knife. He should go in, apologize, and be there for her. He tried to work himself up to it.
“Dammit, Scully… I’m no good at this either. I’m sorry.”
His muttering was nothing if she didn’t hear it, though. He tossed the pillow back onto her bed, moving toward the doorway.
The shuffling in the kitchen, opening of cabinets and drawers, made Mulder hesitate. He could hear her talking quietly to herself. Processing, or cursing him, he couldn’t be sure.
He huffed in irritation, wishing he could see inside her mind the way the demons had seen into his own. But he was not omniscient, and stood painfully aware of his inadequacies. Without speaking to her, he would remain woefully incapable of seeing or understanding what she truly needed from him.
____________________
Scully startled a bit, surprised by Mulder’s silhouette in the doorway.
“Oh, hey. I didn’t hear you coming.” She shut the cabinet door with the back of her hand. The wine glasses made a pleasant clink as she set them on the counter. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I won’t pour much. I don’t want a hangover any more than you do… I just… It’s been a rough week, we both could use this.”
She grabbed the corkscrew from the counter and twisted it into the top of a new bottle.
“We um… we didn’t have some amazing family, Mulder. Not like you think. Not- I mean we had everyone.” She kicked herself for being so callous. “I know it was hard for you, with your dad. And Samantha.”
The cork pulled from the bottle with a low, satisfied pop.
She looked him over, his tired, worn features darkened in the doorway, his eyes studying her. Part of her still wanted to hold back, to keep her emotions and experiences locked away, where they couldn’t be used against her.
So many people had used her weaknesses as weapons to break her down. Including Padgett.
But this was Mulder. If she wouldn’t take that chance on him, would she ever, with anyone?
She gathered herself. “We cared for each other. We still do, what’s left of us. But… Dad was military, you know. We had respect. Duty. Loyalty. I know he loved us, but he didn’t say it much. Didn’t show it.” She looked down, feeling small. Vulnerable. “Not like you do, I mean. Didn’t hug much…. He tried, did the best he could. But. It did hurt Mom… and us.”
Sighing, she turned from him to pour the wine.
“When I said you know more about love, I meant it. It’s… it’s hard for me. You’re different, and caring, and… I do want to protect you from them, if they come here, but I’m also just scared. Scared that I won’t be what you really want. That I can’t be, because… I don’t know how.” She took a small sip from her glass, letting the red wine warm her throat. “But I want to learn. I do.”
She turned back, regarding him cautiously. So much of herself had been laid bare, and she searched his face for signs of understanding. Anything that would help to unbind the thick knot in her stomach.
He nodded, his lips pressed in a thoughtful line. It was a small gesture, but encouraging. He took a step forward.
“Thank you for listening, Mulder. For being so patient with me.” She smiled softly, holding out a glass. “To learning what love is. With you.”
He offered a strange, tilted grin, stepping closer.
She felt a sudden chill on her skin.
“Love is complicated.” The voice rasped unnaturally through Mulder’s mouth, and the grin grew into a sadistic smile.
Scully’s eyes widened in realization. She shuffled backwards, running into the counter. The wine glass dropped from her fingers and shattered on the floor.
His sneer stretched, shifting. Changing. Molding itself into the sallow face she had come to fear more than anything else. In her periphery, she could make out black, wavering mist filling the kitchen, dimming the lights. Pulling itself into pillars of smoke. Before she could think, the dark shadow of his hand clamped down on mouth, hard and cold, slamming her head against the cabinet.
Her stifled cry slipped through the blacked fingers.
“Dana wants to know how to love.” Padgett’s voice trickled through pale, cracked lips tinged a washed-out blue. “I could have taught you. But. The heart wants what it wants. Doesn’t it.” An icy finger traveled across her collarbone, fingernail raking across the path the scalpel had pulled through her skin.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, its rhythm mixing with whispers of ravenous souls that beckoned from the inky swells. She shook her head against the force of his hand, straining against his leaden weight.
Mulder… he was still in the bedroom.
Maybe he could hear.
She tried to scream, but only managed a muffled, gasping yell against the rotten skin of his palm.
____________________
The clattered ringing of broken glass made Mulder’s stomach drop.
He ran.
“Scully?” He barreled through the hallway and into the kitchen, driven by a panic that had become second nature. As he entered, the familiar, writhing darkness surrounded him.
Whispers called to him from inside the mass of smoke. Whispers that sounded almost like Samantha. And another voice, one he wished to never hear again.
____________________
“We can’t leave a story unfinished.” The words wavered, sung in a sickening chorus of voices, Padgett, and thousands more. His cold eyes stared, unblinking. “It’s time.”
She felt the licking of dark mist over her arms, beginning to grasp and tighten. Cold. The souls pricked into her pores. Opening her. Pressing in as Padgett’s body held her fast, his icy fingers digging at the flesh above her heart.
Her blood, a sacrifice to them.
Her heart, his possession.
Her soul, theirs.
A feral scream retched out of her lungs.
“Scully!” Mulder’s voice cut through the whispers around her.
Like a rag doll wrung by a child, Padgett’s head twisted backwards. He stared Mulder down, thin hiss began to rise from his throat. His eyes shone white, glowering at the interruption.
The inky swells of spirits drew themselves up into wavering pillars, pressing on the ceiling, pulling themselves toward Mulder.
It was a small distraction. But enough. Gathering all her strength, Scully pushed herself away from the counter, turning to shove her shoulder into Padgett, forcing him off. She met nothing but the chill of stale air and tumbled down, landing on the hard kitchen floor. The dull thud of her body was muffled by violent hisses of the demons around them.
The kitchen lights were obliterated by the masses filling the apartment. Scully tried to focus through the darkness. She felt dizzy from the gash on the back of her head, sickened by the oppressive smell of rotted flesh that hovered in the room.
“Mulder?” His name tumbled from her lips like a prayer.
“Scully, I’m here.” His eyes searched, frantic in the darkness that had filled the kitchen. “Keep talking… I can’t see you.” He was breathless. “Please? Scully!”
She answered with a weak, muffled moan.
Padgett’s form had dissolved itself into a thick, inky mass, covering the floor, enveloping her. Mulder plunged his hands down into the icy swells, searching desperately. His fingers met clammy, cold skin. Slick with blood.
“Come on.” Mulder’s hand traversed the wet skin on her arm, finding her fingers.
“I can’t.” The voice was small.
He squeezed her hand tightly as the towering forms that filled the room unwound themselves and poured over them.
“We can, Scully. We have to.”
But she didn’t want to.
Neither did he.
The darkness washed over, whispering. Calming. He felt ribbons of inky fingers wrapping around him, digging in. Beginning to enter.
A cracking, thunderous pounding shattered through black kitchen. Again. And again.
“Open the door!”
The apartment door shook with another fist.
“Ms. Scully? Open up!”
Ringing inside his head, Mulder heard the demons scream.
He screamed with them.
Metal jingled, then scraped and turned inside the deadbolt lock. The door flew open, slamming into the wall, doorknob crumpling the drywall behind it.
The demons released their grip. He could feel them in his skin, like a needle pulling from a vein, as they ripped themselves away.
The kitchen lights glared into his eyes, and he squinted.
He could just make out the blurred forms of four men before he lost consciousness.
____________________
The landlord stood near the doorway with the police officer, giving space for the paramedics to work.
Glass shards were strewn across the kitchen floor, sparkling in the incandescent light. In the middle of the room two figures lay still, hand in hand. Spilled wine and spattered blood marred the floorboards.
The blonde paramedic surveyed the kitchen, shaking his head. “Looks like it started as a fun time, anyway.” He stepped over the empty wine bottle on the floor, making his way to the bodies. “These usually do.”
“What do you mean?” The landlord looked irritated, while the remaining men exchanged looks.
“Off record,” the officer said blandly, “looks like domestic violence. Started as a good night, then things went wrong. And now there’s a mess, probably some charges to press when they sober up.”
“Pulse and respiration on both?”
The dark haired paramedic nodded to his partner. “Yeah. Barely.”
The landlord stared at the two forms on the floor. Behind the woman trailed a smeared path of wine mixed with blood, as if she had been pulling herself toward the man.
“Doesn’t seem like domestic violence to me.” He shook his head and looked away.
The officer squinted and surveyed the glass shards on the floor, the blood spattered on the cabinet door. “We’ll decide that. Tell me about this renter.”
“Well, she’s really quiet, but a good tenant. Pays rent early. Works for the government, I think. Takes great care of the place, it’s one of the best kept apartments in the building.” He shrugged. “She’s almost never home, but when she is home, there’s never complaints.”
The police officer nodded, writing in his notepad.
“Do you know the man here?”
“Not by name. I’ve seen him a few times, I think. Nothing unusual or bad that I recall.” The landlord sighed. “Sorry ‘bout all this. Just, Barbara never complains. She’s been here forever, so when she called so concerned at this hour, I figured there’s a problem.”
“Yeah…” Raising his eyebrows, the officer pursed his lips. “It looks like there was a problem, alright.”
“This one’s pulse is really weak. Let’s get her out first so we can start an IV, get her stabilized. Then we’ll move him.” The blonde paramedic rose to retrieve the gurney from behind him.
As if in response, the man on the floor gasped for air, arms flailing wildly. His eyes were wide and he growled, as if fighting something unseen.
“Whoa!” The dark haired paramedic grabbed an arm, pinning him back down. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay.” He turned to other men, frantic. “Can I get a hand?”
The officer was already crossing the room. He planted himself firmly on the other arm while the paramedic tried to calm the man down.
“Sir, you’re safe-”
The man’s eyes rolled backward, and he stiffened, turning his head to the side.
The policeman looked to the paramedic, concerned. Just as they began to roll his body over to a safe position for a seizure, the man’s eyes refocused. He blinked, twisting his head back slowly to look up to the officer.
“Where… is she?”
The officer hesitated, but saw the panic in the man’s eyes. “We have her, sir. She’s safe. Who are you?”
The man’s body relaxed and he closed his eyes, satisfied that the woman he was with was alive. He licked his dry lips and drew a labored breath before he spoke.
“Fox Mulder… FBI. She’s Dana Scully. FBI… You have to… keep her safe. Don’t leave … don’t leave her alone…”
The men glanced at each other.
“What happens if we leave her alone?” The police officer’s eyes shot back to the bloody cabinet door.
Fox Mulder rolled his head toward the voice and cracked open his eyes. “If you leave her… if you leave us… he comes back… they… they come back.”
____________________
A huge thank you to all of you who take the time to read these updates, to encourage, and to wait while I take too long to write! You are so very appreciated.
#today-in-fic#txf fic#msr#msr fic#horror fic#mulder and scully#TW: demons#TW: trauma#TW: medical trauma#TW: seizure#TW: blood#TW: mild alcohol use#dana scully#fox mulder#the x files#x files
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Anyway here’s some fluff in my brain. Tw medical stuff and seizures.
Mountian hanging out with Zephyr on one of his good days, yeah his head hurts, but when does it not? They’re watching some goofy little cartoon they found in the stash of vhs tapes from all the ghouls that came before and those since, it’s old, it’s cheesy, but got some charm to it. It easily passes the time and fills the silence in the Den where everyone’s venture off to do other things.
They’re halfway through when Zephyr’s right hand starts to twitch, a sign of seizure activity in his left hemisphere probably. Mountain quickly takes note and moves his hand over Zephyr’s. It’s not tight, but in the off chance of muscle contractions, he’d rather his hand and claws smack into him than his own face. But it comes, it always does once one thing starts. The air ghoul’s eyes stare off for a bit, he’s quiet and stone still. Mountain stays put, he talks to him in a quiet voice on the off chance he’s still fully aware. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Nothings gonna happen.” He’ll whisper to the elder, right before his eyes roll upwards like he’s looking at the ceiling and his jaw clenches.
They stay like that for what feels like forever, Zephyr’s hands contracting into weird positions and Mountain gently rubbing over the skin until it finally lets up. He’s tired, sweating, and lying against the earth ghoul. Once he’s out of the main part of the seizure, Mountain shoots Omega a quick text for some help. Zephyr’s gonna need some meds to ease him through the after, and there’s no way in seven hells that Mountain’s leaving him alone when he could have another. He’s still postictal, looking around to get his bearings whilst sweating absolute bullets. “I got you Zephy. It was just a seizure. Omega’s grabbing what you need. It’s all taken care of, just lay here with me.”
In the moments that come, he’s still much too out of it to swallow pill or even do a sublingual, so Omega opts to use his central line and an injectable version of his medication. With time he slowly comes out of the fog, and the medicine helps eases the aches in his hands in jaw. He never doubts that he’s in safe hands with his pack, but he’s always grateful they’re with him.
#technically a sickfic#sickfic#tw: medical#tw: medication#tw: seizure#ghost bc#ghoul headcanons#mountain ghoul#zephyr ghoul
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Jesus no wonder George flew back to England between testing and the race, Carmen just shared that she’s been having seizures. I hope she recovers quickly, I feel awful for her and G
#tw: seizure#no asks about this folks#it’s not appropriate to speculate on#I just hope her and George are alright
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Tw: seizures
So uh, I had 3 Grand Mal seizures last Friday- I think I’m okay? I’m still pretty foggy tho. I’m either not gonna be super active for a while or I’m gonna be absentmindedly reblogging shit like I think I already have been doing-
Just thought I’d let everyone know I’m okay (and honestly I guess I feel like if more people know I’ll be safer somehow? Idk, I guess I’m doing this for some personal peace of mind-)
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As Elanor's pregnancy progressed from the first trimester to the second and the baby finally started to move and kick, she started to feel ill. Her husband was worried about her constant headaches and shaking hands, but he didn't want to alarm her.
As they were talking one night, Elanor started to convulse and slumped over, nearly falling off of the bed entirely. But luckily, her husband was there and caught her in his arms.
"Elanor? Elanor?!"
He scooped her up, shouting for the servants to run and get the physician. He would get her in bed and settled, hopefully get her through this.
By the time the physician came, the convulsions had stopped and she was exhausted and disoriented. Luckily, she had survived. Hugh grilled the man on what happened to his wife and to help her and his unborn child.
Eventually, it was decided that her humors were out of balance and her diet would have to be changed. She was also given some tonics to take that would cause her to purge the vile humors out of her body. It was that plus she was not to leave the bed until the child was born.
The household would just have to run without the feminine touch.
#tw: pregnancy complications#tw: seizure#tw: illness#tw: pregnancy#she has preeclampsia if anyone was curious!#THIS wasn't even a death roll#just bad luck via the healthcare redux mod lol#ts4#sims 4#the sims 4#sims 4 ultimate decades challenge#ultimate decades challenge#udc#morbid's ultimate decades challenge#windenberg#1313#1313 windenberg#despenser family
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Photo
David Strathairn Appreciation:
Tony Pine in At Close Range (1986)
#david strathairn#at close range#cw: seizure#david strathairn appreciation#tw: seizure#my gifs#my david gifs
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Video
youtube
Mega Man X7 Part 3
And we’re back!
Snipe Anteator’s stage is borderline nauseating, what with the camera constantly spinning around everytime you enter a warp point (meaning every 5 seconds) and with said camera being stuck on your ass preventing you from seeing jack shit while you’re trying to navigate the upside down portion of the stage.
Anteator himself is the worst of the 8 Mavericks, he’s like Infinity Mijinion in that he’s such a clusterfuck of shit being flung at you with no rhyme or reason, making the best strategy just shooting at him hoping he dies before you do.
And don’t ask me about using the weakness: X7′s weapons are so atrocious that they don’t even wprk properly against the bosses they’re supposed to be used against, either because it’s incredibly awkward to hit the boss with one or they don’t do all that much damage but rather simply stun the boss for a few seconds.
Wind Crowrang is probably the most infamous level of the game and it’s all because of the first part, with the planes to be used as platforms over a bottomless pit. A combination of X7′s worthless camera preventing you from not only seeing more than 3 feet ahead of you but also from having decent depth perception, and of this game’s clunky controls (and hitboxes) makes this segment a goddamn chore: the best part is if you die you have to rewatch that intro cutscene every single time.
Vanishing Gungaroo’s stage wants to be Ride Armor centric, too bad the Ride Armors are slower than a turtle that’s had its legs broken and a 10 ton weight strapped onto its shell, and they control very stiff of course, so I mostly just ignore them and try to get through the level as quickly as I can except at the end it wants you to destroy a number of Ride Armors before fighting the boss, like it’s Sonic Heroes or something.
So we got the Glide Armor! Look at X’s gliding animation: super stiff, not even really animated at all and lacking any graphical effect indicating any sort of gliding technology, I’m surprised he’s not horizontally T-posing while gliding.
Dr.Light’s lines convince me that the devs were not really familiar with the series, because it’s pretty clear that he’s just a recorded message here, despite X4-5-6 pretty explicitly having him speak and interact directly with the characters. Not even X1-2-3 had him say things like “I wish I could give these parts myself”, which made the possible retcon of him actually being an AI surprisingly easy to swallow. X7 just didn’t get the memo.
Speaking of shitty plot wanna talk about Red?
So Red is supposed to be this rough, “charismatic” leader of a band of dangerous vigilantes, someone who’s supposedly pretty perceptive...
and yet Sigma can just casually approach him from the shadows, clad in a blatantly evil black cloack, offer him a way to make him and his men more powerful that involved hurting innocent people, not demand ANYTHING in return....and he FALLS for it!?
What’s funnier is that he seemingly didn’t even realise that’s Sigma! As we’ll see later on Red Alert simply called him “The Professor”.
How?
No really.
At least Wily had to put on a fake beard and some sunglasses, Sigma’s face is clearly visible!!
You mean to tell me that Red didn’t recognise the face of the world feared terrorist!? The guy who’s tried to rule the world several times in the past!?
How can Red, the guy in charge of a vigilante group aimed at hunting down Mavericks, NOT RECOGNISE THE FUCKING LEADER OF ALL MAVERICKS!?
Ladies and gentlemen. We have found a new king of stupid
Moreso than Knuckles in SA1 or Silver in Sonic 06
To you, Red, I award this:
youtube
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just watched a tiktok zac oyama posted of the intrepid heroes gang in a casino and i had a seizure - which is not abnormal, i have epilepsy - but there was a moment there were my brain was going haywire and this was all i could see
[id: a photo of ally beardsley and zac oyama posing together. ally is wearing a navy blue adidas tracksuit, and zac is wearing a matching green tracksuit with sunglasses. end id]
#imaging if you will. intense audio distortion that sounds like a garbage disposal#literally glitchcore visual effects#the distinct sensation of the left side of my body melting#and this masterpiece of a photo. all at once#their power was simply too much for my brain to handle#tw: seizure#d20#zac oyama#ally beardsley#intrepid heroes#orating!
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I messed around with this for a long time. I forgot I had it set to record too.
#blue exorcist#ao no exorcist#rin okumura#my art#my color edits#my edits#video#I used Procreate#procreate#tw: seizure#tw seizure#seizure warning#maybe
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Me: *Wakes up in the ambulance in a bag type thing*
Me: "What happened?"
Cute EMT dude: "You fainted and hit your head and had a seizure, we're on our way to the ER now"
Me: "oh"
Ambulance: *silence*
Me: *unable to move much due to being in a bag type thing that is strapped laying flat down to a gurnee* *looks around and sees a bunch of compartments with wipes and various other medical supplies and tools*
Me: *Thinks about how it's like I'm in Body of Proof* *feels lips tugging into a grin*
Me to me: don't laugh if you do they'll think you're insane and you'll have to explain why you're cackling!
My brain: *don't laugh don't laugh don't laugh don't-
Me(internally): 🎶you're in a bag for your body. Like a body bag. A bag for your body, a body in a bag, a body bag🎶
Me: *starting to really struggle to keep a straight face and not make a sound upon remembering scenes from the latest episode watched*
My brain: This is an inappropriate time to think of jokes about being in a body bag! Stop thinking about Body of Proof!
Me to me: fine! Instead we're just gonna recite and fixate the lyrics to that song by Alec Benjamin!
#screamingsouls goes to the hospital#it took a half hour to arrive and 10 minutes of it was spent trying to not burst out laughing#but it did work trying to think of song lyrics#screamingsouls#tw seizure#tw fainting#tw ambulances#living with ptsd#non epileptic seizures#i was in a bag#body of proof comes to mind in the most inappropriate of times#binging body of proof#dark humor#memes#mental health memes#tw: seizure#tw head trauma#emt#ER#ambulance#the song was#the devil doesn’t bargain#alec benjamin
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