#everything hurts and i'm dying

[wistfulwatcher]

I killed my best friend. (insp)

[thebibliosphere]

I really hate playing the suffering Olympics because, truly, there are no winners. But sometimes, I'm just in awe of how functional some other people's bodies are. Like... advil works for you? Like... on any level? Advil provides pain relief... Like it actually does something?

Huh.

God, I wish that were me.

[lost-shoe]

Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier

Whumptober 2022

No. 8 EVERYTHING HURTS AND I’M DYING

[babybluebex]

my pharmacy has been out of my meds for so long and they finally just refilled them this weekend, and i feel like GARBAGE actually taking my meds again

[whumpythingy]

Whumptober 2022 | no 8: EVERYTHING HURTS AND I'M DYING

Stomach Pain | Head Trauma | Back from the Dead

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whumptober #8: Everything Hurts And I'm Dying

Option: Head Trauma

There is so much blood.

It soaks the collar of their shirt, runs down the back of their neck and dribbles across their eyelids. The tackiness as it dries stings to peel anything away and they can feel their consciousness waning as their vision blurs and blackens around the edges. They know they must stay awake, but they're just so tired. Maybe they could just close their eyes for a moment - the light stings anyway, so it would help ease their pounding headache.

The second their eyelids begin to drop, someone is slapping them awake. Uncoordinated, the whumpee tries to stop them, but does nothing more than swat at the air.

"Hey," Someone says in a weary voice. "None of that, just keep your eyes open, alright? You can sleep later, I promise. Just keep those eyes open for a little while longer."

"But it hurts." the whumpee wants to beg, but it comes out as a gargled moan. They taste acid on their own breath.

"Shh, just keep those eyes open, alright? As soon as we know what we're dealing with then we'll let you have a nice long nap, alright? I promise. Just stay awake for a little while longer."

[breakfastteatime]

Greez: I miss Cere.

Me:

[beecastle]

Whumptober Day 8: Everything Hurts and I'm Dying

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x GN!Reader

Word count: 750

Rating: T

Warnings: Dieter being a drama queen, mentions of how dangerous stunt work is, anxiety

A/N: Thanks to @littlemisspascal for suggesting Dieter for this one and for beta reading! 💕

MASTERLIST / WHUMPTOBER MASTERLIST

.

The call startles you awake from the evening nap you’ve been having. You look for your phone between the sheets until you remember it’s charging on the nightstand. Unplugging it and with your eyes half closed you realize the caller is Dieter. It’s weird he’s calling at this time of the day when he’s usually on set shooting his new movie. 

“Hello?” You answer, the drowsiness of sleep still coating your voice. For a moment there’s nothing but ragged breathing on the other side of the line before he says your name with a pained voice. An uneasy feeling forms a pit in your stomach and expands with each passing second. “Dieter? Is everything alright?”

“I had an accident on set,” he replies, not giving any more information. 

“What kind of accident?” You hope it’s nothing major, but you’re unsure of what to expect, especially because the movie he’s shooting is an action one.

“Everything hurts and I’m dying.” Each word feels like someone is throwing a bucket of cold water at you.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Just come here please.”

“I’m on my way.”

You put on a jacket not caring that you’re wearing pajamas, not having changed since it was your day off. With the keys in hand, you get into the car and drive to the movie set. His scared voice keeps playing in your head over and over again. It’s common knowledge that stunt work is dangerous, with a lot of incidents happening lately, some of them fatal ones due to the studios not taking enough precautions. 

And Dieter has taken it upon himself to shoot his own stunts. A man who almost died when filming a tiktok not even a year ago should not be doing stunt work, yet he had insisted it was necessary for the movie’s authenticity.

When you try to call him again it goes straight to voicemail. Goddamnit Dieter what’s going on?  

You try calling his agent, and she does pick up only to inform you she hasn’t talked to Dieter since this morning. You press the gas pedal harder.

Once you arrive at the set the security guard recognizes you immediately, having been on set multiple times over the last couple of months and lets you pass. Dieter is not in his trailer, nor is there any indication of where he might be. You go outside and start wandering, anxiety taking hold of your heart. One of the workers from the props department takes pity on you and points you in the direction of one of the sets where they last saw your boyfriend.

He’s standing next to a camera reviewing footage, one of the nearby lights reflecting over the greens and purples of his bruised face. You run to him and cup his face in your hands as softly as you can in order to not hurt him further. 

“What happened baby?”

“You came!” He sounds…happy? You inspect his face closer, the bruises seem to be real yet when you brush your thumb over them he doesn’t flinch or back away from your touch. He follows your line of thought and smiles at you. “Don’t worry about them, they are makeup.”

“Then what happened? You sounded in pain on the phone.”

“I was but then someone found this.” He lifts up his finger to show you a band-aid wrapped around his index finger. 

“This is the injury that had me driving over an hour to get here?”

“Yes, I thought I was going to lose my arm.” He has tears in his eyes. “I read somewhere that when your arm starts hurting it’s a sign of a heart attack. Although it was only my finger that was hurting at the time.”

“You can’t be serious Dieter.” You take a step back, tiredness and anger replacing your anxiety. “What ever happened to you?”

“I ripped off a hangnail and it started bleeding.”

“You can’t be serious,” you repeat, not believing this was the big emergency. “I’m going home. This is absurd.”

“Please stay.” He looks at you with those puppy eyes you can’t resist. “Please. You’re my muse, now that you’re here my acting will improve. Please just stay for a scene or two and then we’ll go get dinner.” You consider it for a moment before speaking again. 

“My favorite restaurant and you’re paying?” He nods eagerly. “Okay.” 

Someone calls his name and he gives you a kiss on the cheek before disappearing to one of the sets.

[geminihurt]

Whumptober 2022 | Day 08

Everything hurts and I'm dying | Stomach pain

"You're so good to have around, how could I be willing to let you go"

Guardian 08 | Zhao Yun Lan - Bai Yu

[little-bumblebeeee]

I fucking hate this whole 'having a uterus' thing. Rude af in my opinion. Have they figured out how to give this parasite of an organ to someone else.

[ask-runaan-anything]

This might be a "wierd" and confusing question but does time move forward inside of your hellcoin? Like do you personally feel time pass within and not in the actual reality? This might be confusing like I said earlier and I apologize.

I'm afraid it's a secret third option, little shadow. Time doesn't move forward here, but it isn't frozen, either.

It loops.

Don't think too hard about what sort of memories it loops for me. Just know that the appellation "hellcoin" is an apt one.

[squigglywindy]

Whumptober Day Eight

Title: Everything Hurts and I'm Dying

Prompts Used: Head trauma

Warnings: Basic violence. It's a head injury, so head injury stuff. Blood. Vomiting. Uh...I think that's it

Whumpee(s): Sky

General Notes: I had fun with this one, don't really have any other notes. And it's the last one I have written in order, so...it'll be a minute before day nine happens. Thanks for reading, and being patient as I battle real life <3

Sky didn’t realize it at first, when he crashed into the tree, whacked his head, and crumpled to the ground. It was just like any other time he’d been flung in battle. He’d been hit a little too hard by a moblin more times than he could count, and at first when his body connected with the tree, he was only vaguely annoyed.

He heard the crack of his skull against the bark before he felt it, but by the time he actually hit the ground, the pain was intense enough that his vision went white for long enough to give the moblin an opening. He felt it grab his foot and tried to force his eyes open, but even once he was successful, the world was blurry and the movement of the world sliding by as he was dragged slapped him with a wave of nausea so intense that he instantly screwed his eyes closed again. He should grab his sword and fight back. He didn’t know where his sword was. Did he have a sword? He wasn’t sure. Nothing made sense.

He heard a vague shout, something that sounded like ‘Sky’, and he wanted to ask if that was supposed to mean him, because it felt like maybe it was, but he couldn’t really explain why. There was another shout, and his leg dropped back to the ground as the moblin dropped him. Something heavy dropped down over his legs, he thought it might have been the mobin falling, but he would have believed anything someone told him. Was there anyone else here? He thought there used to be. Groose? Maybe Groose was on his legs; that seemed like the sort of irritating thing he’d do at a time like this. He wanted to ask, and he lifted his head to do so, but the movement was enough to make his brain feel like absolute sludge, and the world faded to black before he ever had a chance to ask.

***

The world faded back slowly at first; sounds tickling at the edge of his consciousness, concerned voices chattering above him; and then slammed into him like a boulder. The world was abruptly too loud, and too bright, and he wasn’t at all sure where he was or who he was with, and breakfast that he didn’t remember eating churned wretchedly in his stomach.

Someone’s hand was on his shoulder, and he grabbed the arm attached to it to pull himself up, the spinning that created in his head sealing the deal with whether or not he was going to win the battle against his rebelling stomach. He twisted to the side and gagged, some vague shape of a person jumping away and alerting him to the fact that he had deeply misjudged how many people he was surrounded by. He couldn’t be bothered to worry about it at the moment though; he was far too busy choking on what felt like not only the contents of his stomach, but also his stomach itself. His head throbbed in response, the pressure at the back of his eyes making it feel like they might just detach from his head and pop out to roll away across the forest floor, never to be seen again. They hurt enough at the moment that he wasn’t entirely convinced that that would be a bad thing.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he had exhausted his resources and tried to flop back onto the ground only to be intercepted by someone behind him keeping him upright. “Whassit?” He grumbled, frowning a little at his own garbled voice. That wasn’t at all what he’d been going for.

“Sky. Can you hear me, Sky?” The tone said it wasn’t the first time the voice had asked, and Sky was exactly coherent enough to know that that wasn’t a good thing. It took him a second to mull over the words, and a second more to figure out the voice. It belonged to Link. No, yes, that was right, but there was more. Time? Time felt right.

Sky nodded at last, and grimaced against the spike of pain the simple motion sent through his brain. “Whappen?” He asked, and that wasn’t right either, but they must have understood, since a sea of voices jumped to answer. He whimpered and moved his hands over his ears, curling up slightly and only not flopping all the way over thanks to the strong arm across his chest.

“You got thrown into a tree!” A face found its way way too close to his own, another Link, a smaller Link, a sailor Link? That didn’t feel wrong, but the vague blob of a person was dragged away before he could decide for sure. It was replaced with another Link, and things were making a little more sense now. There were nine of them, they were traveling together, they’d gotten in a fight. He basically remembered that. This Link -Twilight? He wasn’t going to argue with his first instinct, it was usually right; spoke softly and slowly, like he understood that Sky’s brain was trying its hardest to keep up, but it was hard.

“We were in a fight, and you got tossed,” Twilight broke it down, and that sounded awful, but Sky genuinely didn’t remember it happening. “You hit your head pretty hard on a tree, and you’ve been out of it since. Do you know where you are?”

That felt like such an easy question. Sky forced himself to look around, taking in the fuzzy world and trying to ignore the way it spun. Trees, grass, dead leaves, Link, Link, another Link...he was truly surrounded; but it felt safe. “Woods,” he answered, slightly encouraged by the fact that the word sounded almost right, even past the ringing in his ears.

“Good, great, that was an easy one,” Twilight kept his voice pitched so low that it was almost not painful to listen to. “Can you tell me who you are?”

What an absolutely ridiculous question. “Link,” he mumbled, pulling his hands away from his ears and blinking owlishly at the person in front of him, the figure coming ever-so-slightly into focus. “Sky,” he added. That one came a little harder, but they’d been shouting it at him, so he knew it was true.

Twilight nodded. “And what day is it?” Sky stared. This didn’t seem fair.

Sky frowned. Another Link appeared beside Twilight, long hair, blue shirt...Wild? He was going with it. “I couldn’t answer that and my brain’s fine,” he defended.

A beat of silence. “I don’t know what I can say to that that wouldn’t sound mean,” a voice from behind them somewhere deadpanned. Four? That gave Sky a confidence boost; he didn’t even have to see the owner of the voice to recognize it.

“Feels like a Thursday,” Sky mumbled, not because he was sure about the answer, but because he had never lived through a day that felt more like a Thursday. It was the longest sentence he’d tackled yet, and the words came out smooshed together and strange, but they were clear enough that he didn’t bother repeating them.

“Close enough,” Twilight shrugged and proceeded not to tell him what day it actually was, which was annoying enough to irritate him, but not enough to actually ask for clarification. He wasn’t convinced he had known the answer before he’d hit the tree.

“He’s definitely concussed,” Twilight decided.

“I could have told you that without grilling the poor guy,” Legend huffed. “Did you hear the sound his skull made against the tree? I’m surprised he’s not bleeding more.”

More? Sky brought a hand to the back of his head and sucked in a breath when it contacted with a wad of sticky hair. He pulled it away and frowned at the red coating on his fingers, taking a moment to process that yes, that had come out of his head. “Oh,” he mumbled.

“Don’t touch it,” Time warned him too late, and he felt something soft but horribly painful press against the back of his head. He hissed and tried to jerk away, but Time held him in place and continued to apply the worst sort of pressure to the injury.

Sky gave in and allowed it, far too tired and addled to bother resisting. His eyes slipped closed, and a moment later, he was rudely shaken, and pried his eyes back open to find himself face-to-face with Warriors.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he warned ominously.

“That’s a myth,” Legend argued. “He’s fine, sleep’s probably good for him.”

“What if it’s not a myth?” Warriors argued. “You really want to test that on Sky?”

“I can confirm, I’ve been concussed loads of times, and I’m fine,” Wild insisted.

“We don’t have a hundred years to hang around waiting for him to wake up,” Warriors argued.

“That wasn’t a concussion.”

“Guys,” Time interrupted, and Sky had never been more grateful toward someone for putting an end to the chain’s bickering. They existed in a state of loud, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could handle at the moment. “Sky,” he waited until Sky hummed in acknowledgement before he continued. “You need to stay awake for a little while longer, just until we’re sure you’re not getting worse. Then you can rest.”

That sounded like the absolute worst deal, and he kind of wanted to argue, but that would take more effort than he was capable of investing at the moment. “M’kay,” he agreed instead. The world was too blurry to really see much, and it was spinning far too much to stand, and every movement he dared make sent nearly unbearable spikes of burning pain through his skull, but he was literally surrounded by his brothers, and they would have his back. They would keep him awake until it was safe to sleep, and they would guard him while he recovered. He was sure of that much, even if nothing else made much sense at the moment.

[mentalmeles]

Watched the new RWBY ep and OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW

[privatehousesanatomy]

normal girlies my age (21) are getting turnt up in the club on saturday nights. i, however, am taking my arthritis medications.

[not-your-housekeeper98]

Whumptober Day 8

Everything Hurts and I'm Dying

Grimm Season 2 Episode 2

Sean Renard takes a potion with terrible side effects.

[neverafuckgiven]

BUT SIDE NOTE

how guilty must Ashton feel right now? They keep saying we don't leave anyone behind, keep insisting on it, when he was the first one to get fucked up by Thull and, very reasonably, decided to run because that was the plan, but no one else could get away

They keep saying "we don't trade lives, we don't leave anyone behind"

I wonder if Ashton thinks it's his fault, that maybe if he had stayed to take a few more hits, maybe Laudna wouldn't be dead