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bellysoupset · 10 months ago

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"Hold this," Max said, fishing out one of his many plastic bags from the glovebox and passing it to Vince. The man was leaning against Max's white pickup, more than a little pasty, with a green tinge to his complexion, his lips almost camouflaging against his skin so devoid the color they were.

"What is it for...?"

"Because you look fluorescent green," Max rolled his eyes, "puke bag."

"I'm not gonna be sick," Vince groaned, but got inside the car. He leaned back, closing his eyes and Max quickly circled the vehicle, getting inside as well.

"I beg to differ, you're one of those weird people who genuinely turn green," Max's was a little amused by how transparent Vince was, metaphorically speaking. The brunette kept his eyes closed, but frowned.

"So I've heard..." he gulped down when the car started moving and Max stole a glance at him, focusing on the drive. He hated the uncomfortable silence, Vince wasn't a quiet person and this was unnerving.

"Sooo... What's wrong, is it a bug?" Max poked his bicep and Vince sighed, opening his eyes, seeming a little annoyed Max didn't let him just sleep. The blonde shrugged to himself, Vince could be annoyed all he wanted, as long as he didn't pass out again.

When Max had barged in the classroom, the sight of Vince crumbling down to the ground had been more than a little frightening.

"No, I don't think so," Vince, in the present, said, staring out of the windshield. It took Max a second to realize he was keeping his eyes on the horizon, probably due to the nausea he was clearly feeling, even if denying it, "I didn't have time for breakfast this morning and has to skip-" he gulped down, pressing his lips in a line when a weak gag jolted him. Vince opened the bag in his lap, but didn't bring it up to his mouth, breathing slowly "skip lunch. I think it's just my blood sugar."

"You should keep some energy bars on you," Max scoffed, "aren't you an athlete? I thought your people lived on those."

"My people," Vince snorted, then groaned loudly as nausea caused his arms to get covered in goosebumps, "stop talking about food, please."

"Sorry," Max drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, feeling a stab of guilt. He was so bad at this, he had never taken care of anyone before and it showed. Hell, most days he could barely care for himself!

He also hoped Vince hadn't realized that Max didn't ask for his address, he had driven him and that friend of his home that one time at 3 AM and it was terribly embarrassing that he had memorized it.

They stopped at a red light and Max turned to look at Vince, immediately frowning, "You're shivering," he pointed out. All the windows were closed and the car felt rather stuffy, there was no way Vin was cold, "are you feverish?"

"No," Vince rubbed at at his forehead, "don't think so..? I just feel really cold..." He was pitiful to look at, white as milk and shuddering like he had just gotten out of a frozen lake. Without thinking, Max leaned in to feel his forehead, then realized what he was doing and froze with his hand mid air. Vince snorted, looking at him through his dark lashes, "you can check it, it's fine. I don't think it's a fever."

Max's ears burned and he wanted to die from embarrassment. Instead, he slammed his hand harshly against Vince's forehead, then pulled it back quickly, "yeah, you don't have a fever, you're freezing."

"Low blood sugar," Vince breathed out through his mouth as the car started moving once more, swallowing convulsively and fidgeting on his seat, "are we almost there?"

"Almost," Max sped up a little bit more, they weren't far out, "you're still feeling faint?"

Instead of answering him, Vince simply nodded, too busy taking slow breaths. He leaned forward, mouth hanging open over the bag, causing Max to cringe in sympathy.

"Almost there," he repeated, squeezing Vince's nape without thinking and leaving his hand there when the man didn't shrug him off immediately. Actually, Vince seemed weirdly welcoming of the touch, something that shouldn't surprise Max given Monacelli had been all over him when he was sick, but that did anyway.

As soon as he parked in front of Vince's place, the man shoved the door open and leaned out of it...Then fell.

"Shit, Vince!" Max cursed, jumping out of the car and running around it. Vince had fallen to his knees and he had an arm wrapped tightly around his stomach and was dry heaving on the grass, "shit-shitshitshit-" Max sunk to his knees, holding Vince's shoulder, "hey... So much for not gonna puke, uh?"

As if to answer him, Vince retched once more - silently, he was a really quiet puker - and a splash of bright yellow bile fell in the grass.

Max rubbed his hand up and down the man's back, sighing in a defeated manner. Vince coughed once more, than let out a string of little tiny burps that seemed completely out of place for a dude like him, and was left panting, an arm still around his stomach, his free hand coming to wipe his mouth.

"Sorry," Vince's voice was shot by the acid, raspy and barely above a whisper, "that was gross."

"I see puke weekly, you're fine," Max thumped his back in a lighthearted manner, "you're done?"

"Think... Think so," Vince nodded and the blonde grabbed his arm, struggling to pull him up on his feet. The moment he did, Vin stumbled, but stayed standing with great effort.

"You're sure this is just not eating?" Max made sure he wasn't gonna fall, before grabbing Vince's bag and digging through it to find his keys.

"It's unlocked," Vince answered after a minute of searching, "I... Forgot to lock it."

"I know Doveport is pacific, but geez, Vince," Max frowned, pushing the door open. He had never been inside and it was striking the difference between Vince's place and his own.

Vince's tiny house was smaller than Max's place, everything cramped in one open floor. Nevertheless, it felt like a home. His living room area was a light beige and had a big brown couch, with a small TV rack dividing the "living room" from the "bedroom", a flat screen on top of it and a bunch of books under it. The coffee table was a little wobbly and Vin's fresh laundry was sitting in a bowl there, to be folded and stored away. His kitchen had barely any cabinets, instead everything was inside of jars in open shelves. His bedroom had a pink wall, a bunch of books and one of his football jerseys had been framed and put on a wall, covered in signatures.

"Okay, lie down-" Max guided Vince to the couch, but the man shook his head, pointing the bed.

"Couch's... too small," he stumbled in and finally fell on the bed with a relieved sigh, "thanks, Max, you don't-"

"Where's your food?" Max interrupted Vince before he could say the predictable you-don't-have-to-stay. He didn't wait for an answer, turning around and going through Vin's stuff in the kitchen.

He had almost no junk food, which again was the opposite of what Max expected. A bunch of spices and pastas in all sorts of shapes...

"Here," he found a box filled with energy bars next to his microwave and walked back to the bed area, sitting on the corner, "have a bite."

"No," Vince wrinkled his nose, "too queasy."

"You're queasy because there's nothing in your stomach," Max rolled his eyes, tearing the bar open and breaking a piece of it, "open up, c'mon."

Vince glared at him and Max sighed, lowering his hand. He was being too forceful, he knew that. It was just... Weird being around Vince when he was existing in this weird limbo of crushing on the guy, getting to know him and taking care of someone for the first time. He was both worried and overthinking it all.

"Help me out here, man," Max said quietly, "I don't know what to do."

Vince's shoulders moved down and he nodded, rubbing his face in a frustrated manner, "uhm... Energy bar is too rich," he said after a minute, making a disgusted face, "I have saltines in one of the jars."

"Alright!" Max leaped for them, going through all the jars. Part of him was enjoying the snooping around, he couldn't remember the last time he had been in someone's house... Well, except for his tinder dates, but those barely counted, "who needs that much pasta?" he whispered under his breath, then raised his eyebrows at the fancy set of pans inside the only cabinet. They were all baby blue and looked expensive as hell, "these are cute..."

"Max," Vince sounded amused, "saltines?"

Oh yeah. Max found them in the smallest jar, next to a metal tin filled with cookies, and he came back to the bed, holding five of the crackers as well as a Gatorade bottle.

"Here you go..." He fidgeted, watching as Vince started taking tiny bites, in between small sips of the electrolyte, "better?"

"It's been twenty seconds," Vince snorted, closing his eyes, "sit down, you're making me nervous."

"I'm making you nervous? You're the one who collapsed like a victorian lady," he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, "are the crackers staying down?"

Vin shrugged, not moving a muscle and Max simply stared, since the man had his eyes closed. Vince occupied most of the double bed and he looked... Weird. Not just the paleness and slight shivering, there was something off that Max couldn't figure out what it was. His curls had escaped the low ponytail and were around his face, making him look oddly like an ancient statue...

"I like your place," Max paced around, like a caged tiger, "are you gonna nap?"

Vin opened his eyes, looking a little amused, "can anyone nap when you're yapping?"

"Oh fuck you!" Max cried out, his cheeks heating up, "I'm just checking if you're alive, forgive me for giving a shit-"

"You helped so much already," Vince interrupted his outcry, moving slightly on the bed, "but I think I'll just nap now, you should go Max."

"Okay..." He really didn't want to leave. Not only he didn't trust Vince to stay alive when he was still that white, but he simply didn't wanna leave this tiny, cozy house.

"My mom is gonna be here in five minutes," Vince warned him, yawning, "you should leave or she's gonna rope you into coming over for dinner, it'll be a whole thing."

Max didn't hate the idea of going to the Monacelli's place for dinner. Still, he let out a huff, "yeah, I should go," he moved around, fishing Vin's phone out of his bag abandoned on the couch and then back to the bed, shoving the device on the man's hand, "get my number, I want you to text me you're alive later."

Vince let out a sigh, before unlocking his phone and handing it back to Max, a clear message for him to do it himself. Once that was done, that was really no other reason for Daniels to stay around a minute longer, so he patted Vince's arm in an awkward way, "text me. I'm serious, or I'll text your mom. I got her number, this is a threat."

Vince scoffed, looking more than a little sleepy, "yeah yeah..." he yawned, "Max? Thank you. Really."

He sounded so earnest. Max nodded stiffly, he needed to get the hell out of there. Liking Vince was a landslide, not even a slippery slope.

"Yeah, no problem," he walked to the door, "but start eating breakfast, Monacelli."

#mywriting #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #vince monacelli #fainting #lightheaded #max having a crisis for 3k over how he's falling for vince

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year ago

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Whumpuary Day 7-8

Prompt: Lightheaded

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

This was brutal. On the road, boots dragging over the pavement in the hot Georgia sun. No supplies. No game to hunt. A meager amount of water. In the tournament of survival, your group seemed to be on the losing side. You were all exhausted, sweltering, and easily agitated.

Daryl was no exception, probably the most volatile with the exception of Sasha. He continued to refuse your attempts at making him drink, reasoning that his share go to Judith or Carl. You were quickly losing patience with his repudiation of his own wellbeing. It infuriated you that he continuously put himself last, acting as if that was the price of admission into your little apocalyptic family.

“Daryl, you need to drink.” You stepped into his path, pressing the canteen into his chest. “Don’t argue with me. I swear, I will sit on you and pour it down your throat.”

The archer seemed to mull over your words, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. Any hope you had managed to gather during his moment of consideration was quickly shattered when he sidestepped around you with a mumbled m’fine.

You were quick to block him again. Well, as quick as you could be with exhaustion and hunger gnawing away at you.

“This is bullshit, Daryl!” You thrust the canteen at him once again. “You’re important too!” He smiled at your concern, not a genuine one. It was a weak attempt at reassurance.

“M’fine.” He was gentle when he pushed away your offering. Right on cue, baby Judith began to fuss from her little carrier on Carl’s back. You spared a glance, a mere heartbeat, and he was gone when you looked back. Silent as a ghost, only the lingering sway of branches as evidence of his departure. With an inward sigh, you walked over to Rick and handed him the canteen with a nod toward his children.

The slow but steady march had once again begun when Daryl appeared next to Rick. You were just behind the deputy, watching your archer with narrowed eyes. Something was off. His steps were sluggish, in stark contrast to the way he kept his chin raised and shoulders back. You longed for him to allow himself to be vulnerable, just once. Admit he was human like any of the rest of you. Admit he was tired or thirsty, that he needed to stop and rest.

When Daryl staggered sideways, your hand immediately went to Rick’s shoulder; a careful movement that alerted him. He glanced back at you and followed your gaze, turning his head toward the hunter. Daryl had already found his footing, but was looking down at the pavement while shaking his head lightly.

You hoped that someone else asking would be the catalyst to his admittance of being the opposite of fine as he automatically claimed each time you expressed your concern. Rick didn’t break stride as he walked closer to Daryl, who didn’t seem to notice at all.

“You alright, brother?”

Rick’s voice suddenly in such close proximity appeared to startle him, his head snapping up to reveal a dazed expression. Wide blue eyes narrowed, not in anger but confusion. He blinked quickly a few times and dropped his gaze back to the pavement.

“Mhm.”

“We can stop. Take a break.” When Daryl didn’t answer, the other man stopped walking with a hand grasping the archer’s forearm. “Hey, let’s take a break.”

“Ain’t needin’ no break.” Daryl seethed, snatching his arm away. He stumbled but only slightly before continuing ahead.

Rick was watching him when you came to stand at his side. “He’s not okay.”

“Yeah.” You replied inside a sigh. “He’s gonna drop, Rick. I can’t get him to drink anything.” Daryl’s gait was off. He carried himself by sheer force of will, veering left and then right without seeming to notice. “He’s punishing himself.” You said after a moment. When Rick looked at you, you were already looking back at him. “For Beth.”

A nod was shared and then the trek began again.

Later, the sun was at its highest, the unforgiving heat taking its fury out on the lot of you. You had stripped off your t-shirt, the camisole underneath providing enough coverage that you weren’t embarrassed. Everyone who could remove something with the hope of some relief had done so as well. Except, of course, the ever stubborn, self destructive archer.

This time, you sent Carol after him when he disappeared to hunt game and water. When she stepped back onto the road without him, you couldn’t contain the hope in your eyes. It was quickly shot down by a shake of her head.

Goddamnit, Daryl. He didn’t appear for a while, longer than usual, worrying you sick. You were ready to have his head on a platter when he emerged from the foliage and took the lead. Fingers combed your damp hair away from your face more out of frustration than an attempt at some sort of relief. You knew you looked like a parent preparing to scold their child when you began to stomp toward the man who was currently the single source of your worry and agitation. You were almost just behind him when he staggered, a palm slapping against his forehead. This time, he wasn’t able to catch his balance and descended hard to one knee.

“Daryl?” Annoyance forgotten, you dropped down beside him, concern intensifying into something more akin to panic as you watched him blink fast, close his eyes; rinse and repeat. “Hey, talk to me.”

“Just a lil’ lightheaded. Need a minute s’all.” He needed more than a minute, damn him. His lips were cracked, tongue dry as a bone when he attempted to wet them.

“Let’s take a break.” Rick, crouching on Daryl’s other side, suggested in a hushed tone.

The archer growled and gave a valiant effort toward standing, only to fall back to both knees. “Lot’a light left. Should keep movin’.”

“No.” The deputy raised his brows, clearly not considering that option. “You’re dead on your feet. Rest. Drink.” He offered his own bottle, pushing it toward Daryl with an expression that indicated he wasn’t asking.

You reached for the container, jutting your chin toward the rest of your comrades. Rick nodded and gently clapped a hand over Daryl’s shoulder with a squeeze. He left the two of you there, trusting your ability to get through to the archer.

“Let’s go sit in the shade.” You left no room for argument, extending a hand toward him once you were upright. He looked at it but didn’t take it, pressing a palm to the hot pavement to force himself to his feet. When he tilted backwards, you were quick to grab his arm and prevent him from smacking his head on the unforgiving ground. “Come on.”

Daryl allowed you to lead him to a large tree, a little ways away from everyone else. Having several concerned gazes on him would be nothing but a hindrance, and he desperately needed to rest and hydrate. You plopped down first and patted the ground next to you. Your irritation was already ebbing away, extinguishing entirely when you saw him struggling to lower to the grass without tipping over.

“Drink.” You handed over Rick’s water and nearly sobbed when he took a sip. The archer tried to hand it back, stopped short by a shake of your head. “You haven’t had any. Catch up. Take your share.” After a moment, he lifted the bottle to his lips. The relief was almost overwhelming. “I’m not gonna bitch at you but you really need to take better care of yourself.”

He scoffed, toying with the bottle cap between his fingers. “M’fine.”

“If you say that one more time, I’m going to drown you in the first body of water we come across.” You managed to sound completely serious while brushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead. “At least try. For me?”

Daryl stared at you, lifting the bottle halfway and pausing there. “Okay.” He took another sip, already feeling a little less like a walker. “For you.”

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno4 #lightheaded #the walking dead #fic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #murda writes

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ink-ghoul · 5 months ago

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what if we get one iron nugget in return for butter?

I don't want to accidentally make an infinite iron exploit if I miscalculate something

#ask #lightheaded #pastry datapack becomes free iron supplier heart eyes #it'd be funny

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bandcampsnoop · 1 month ago

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5/19/25.

Another of Slumberland's excellent new releases - "Thinking, Dreaming, Scheming!" is the 2nd LP from Long Branch, New Jersey band lightheaded.

This time around lightheaded seem to be leaning into their love of The Aislers Set (Alicia Vanden Heuvel recorded tracks 3 and 4). Gary Olson (The Ladybug Transistor) recorded tracks 1 and 2, and Mikey Young mastered this.

I'll let the Bandcamp page take care of the comparisons since whoever wrote it probably listened to the whole album while you and I are currently only privy to track one:

lightheaded "have the sunshine sparkle of The Left Banke and Margo Guryan, the C86 charm of Dolly Mixture and Would-Be-Goods, and the cinematic swell of Belle & Sebastian and Camera Obscura." And since I've been listening to a lot of Barbara Manning, she deserves a mention as well.

#lightheaded #New Jersey #Long Branch #The Aislers Set #Alicia Vanden Heuvel #Gary Olson #The Ladybug Transistor #Mikey Young #The Left Banke #Margo Guryan #C86 #Dolly Mixture #Would Be-Goods #Belle & Sebastian #Camera Obscura #Barbara Manning #Bandcamp

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lesbianneopolitan · 5 months ago

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I need sugar and caffeine directly injected into my system or I'm not gonna survive today

#neo.txt #I was almost falling asleep in the shower wtf #why am I so extremely fatigued today #I slept kind of like shit again but yk idk #maybe I'll lie down a bit before taking some pepsi #but I'm so #lightheaded

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chelledoggo · 1 year ago

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happy pride month to lesbian Ollie 🌈

#ollie's #pride #lesbian #lgbtq #lightheaded #shitpost

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free-mari · 1 year ago

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ｉ＇ｍ　ｓｏｂｅｒ，　가슴만　더　뜨겁게

┏━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┓

ꕥ 최산 ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞ ☄️🕷️🔥

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worldofhurt · 2 years ago

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Airwolf, HX-1 (1984) [2/2].

#Airwolf #Jan Michael Vincent #1980s #80s tv #my gifs #whumpedit #classic whump #whump #unconscious #collapsed #lightheaded #tvedit

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daggerzine · 1 month ago

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Lightheaded- "The View From Your Room" single (Slumberland)

When I reviewed the previous (first) single from this NJ band's forthcoming album, I already let you know how psyched I am to hear the whole record. Single number two, which clocks in at 1:59, is no letdown either.

If I have my facts straight, this cut was recorded with Aisler Set's Alician Vanden Heuvel down at her studio in San Francisco and it truly sounds like a lost 60s psych-pop classic. From heavenly vocals to underwater sounds to bits of playfulness throughout, the band sounds like they're truly enjoying the ride all the while writing some fab songs songs.

Thinking, Dreaming, Scheming! is out on 6/27/25!

www.areyoufeelinglightheaded.bandcamp.com

#bandcamp #Lightheaded #Slumberland Records #indie pop #indie rock #Sarah Records #C86 #New Jersey

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gregrulzok · 9 months ago

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Mixing hyperfixations this, making a [X Hyperfixation] AU for [Y Hyperfixation] that, and it's all live action TV shows with similar thematic overtones and vibes. Weak.

Come back to me when you learn real power (the Haikyuu x Warrior Cats AU I made when I was 14 and the Hypnosis Mic x Beastars AU which I uploaded to this very blog)

#lightheaded #obviously #autism #special interest #hyperfixation #haikyuu #warrior cats #beastars #hypmic #actually autistic

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esbee-daisy · 7 months ago

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Sickie has made it through an agonizing work day but realizes when it’s finally time to leave, they’re too unwell to drive. They’re not about to put other people at risk getting behind the wheel of a car in this state. So they’re trying to make it home by foot, but keep having to stop when overcome with lightheadedness. At one point they literally have to plop down right in the middle of the sidewalk because their buckling legs refuse to even grant them the mercy of one more step to lean against a building. But once the spinning slows, they slowly and painstakingly pull themselves back to their shaky feet and continue on. Trembling with violent chills and swaying with each step. No one stops to help them, they just get disgruntled or disgusted looks by those who pass.

It just so happens Caretaker is driving home and happens to take note of the wobbly figure that’s stumbling around the sidewalk. They feel a pang of dire sympathy for that poor person, but before a thought even has time to form, they’ve done a double take when they realize that’s THEIR Sickie. Eyes wide, they throw on their blinkers and slam their car to the side, causing cars behind to beep at their abrupt turn.

But they can’t even pretend to care, not when they’re practically tripping over themselves getting out of the car to get to Sickie. Stumbling, pale, sweat-drenched Sickie. Sickie who is now veering listlessly to the side until their shoulder catches the brick wall of a building. The force of the hit, despite their slow gait, is enough to cause their drooping head to bounce against the wall with a crack. Caretaker is there just a second too late to cushion the blow. And the blinding, sparkling stars of blackness that explode before Sickies eyes prevent them from seeing that it’s Caretaker who grabs them in hopes to steady them.

Terrified by sudden hands on their body, Sickie stumbles blindly forward, trying to escape this strangers hold. But the world is slipping in and out of focus before them. The twinkling stars have cleared only to make way for a fog they hadn’t noticed before. And whatever they can make out before their eyes is stretching and bending and their ears are ringing and - someone is grabbing them again.

…..can someone finish this prompt for me? It’s been sitting in my drafts forever lol help

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dresden-syndrome · 1 year ago

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25/VII-1963. Class IV detention unit, State Security department No. 138, Středočeský region, People's Union Republic of Czechoslovakia, EESU.

It was all Radím could expect. A cold, empty basement room that smelled of death. A room with no way out. The end point. The torture has ended and the confession has been written; sooner or later, that day had to come.

Even as Radím had so much time to brace himself for the inevitable, he couldn't even think he'd be absolutely ready. It was all over from the start - even back then, when his resistance group started its work, he already knew there could be no other end for him. Yet a small, deep sense of fear was always there. The tiny little voice that screams "I want to live! Let me go!!", not caring if it will be heard.

Now, as he was down on his knees in the dark, lifeless basement, all coherent thoughts have gone. Radím felt like his mind wasn't there, his body got so light and unreal as if it was made of cotton. The detention officers didn't even have to restrain him. He was too dizzy to think or move, the cold sense of impending doom struck him as a gun barrel pressed to his head.

Silence.

Then, a hollow sound piercing his ears.

"Wait, did you expect us to just shoot you like that?" - a loud voice brought Radím to sense.

"Stand up, traitor."

Two officers lifted him by shoulders, laughing as his hazy eyes observed them in confusion.

"What do you mean..." - Radím wondered, only to be met with silence.

It was nothing. They didn't execute him. They didn't take him to be interrogated again. The dizziness was gone, replaced by a terrifying sense of realization. The guards exited the basement, bringing him into a hallway he'd never seen before.

"Where are we going?..."

"Where... where are you taking me?"

"Help?..."

@whumpuary #4: Lightheaded / Kneeling

Art taglist: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump @whumpedydump @whumpthefifth

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno4 #lightheaded #kneeling #art #oc #tw death mention #tw gun #tw guns #whump #whump community #whumpblr #historical whump #military whump #totalitarian whump #whump oc #whumpee #whump ideas #whump art

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