#near-death

[dduane]

Some interesting stuff here

[whumperofworlds]

Healer Whumpee rushed towards Teammate, who was heavily bleeding and close to death. They use their most powerful healing spells to fully heal Teammate.

Once Teammate was back on their feet, Whumpee suddenly collapsed, the healing spell taking its toll on them to the point they were in near-death mode themself.

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #4

xxx dead on your feet

part 1; part 2

Mellisa McCall has seen a lot of things in her time as a nurse. She’s seen a lot of Things in her time as Scott’s mother. She’s grown somewhat used to it--as used to it as one can be. She’s barely phased by monsters anymore. At some point, she’d come (foolishly) to think that with everything she’s seen and been through, there wasn’t anything that could come through the hospital doors that could rattle her.

She was wrong. 

Not even the sound of Scott’s desperate pleas over the phone could have prepared her for what came in: Stiles, soaked through with rain, pale and cold and still. 

She’d thought the sight of those blue lips would haunt her.

She quickly learned that what will haunt her is the sound of herself breaking his bones, his ribs cracking beneath her hands as she did compression after compression until they made her stop and switch, though she stayed as close to Stiles as she could without being completely in the way, only stepping back when someone yelled, Clear! 

The sight of Stiles’s skinny frame jerking slightly from the defibrillator had almost made her sick.

The sound of Stiles’s heartbeat on the monitor and the sound of him taking a breath had, the relief hitting with such intensity after so much tension and worry that it made her stomach do somersaults and, with Stiles alive and at least somewhat stable in the hands of her co-workers, she’d had to excuse herself.

And that’s how she came to be here, crying on the floor of the break room with the lights off with a trash can that smells like puke sitting on the linoleum beside her, in case she needs it again. She’s falling to pieces, and for now she’s letting herself because she knows that soon there will be a lot more pieces that need picking up. She’ll put herself back together before then, so as not to add to the pile. But for now, she cries.

xxx 

Stiles wakes up gasping, chest tight with panic as one hand flies up to his neck. He doesn’t know where he is, but that man, that--that thing--could still be nearby and if he is then Stiles has to get out of here and he has to warn Scott, and--

Someone is holding him, two hands gripping his arms so tightly it hurts and Stiles is not going down without a fight. He jerks and lets out a yell, only to hear his own name yelled back at him.

“Stiles! Stiles, it’s me! It’s your dad! You need to calm down, son!”

Stiles blinks, ignoring the stinging pain at the inside of his elbow. “Dad?” 

“It’s me, Stiles, I’m here!”

“Scott--where’s Scott? I--I need to see him! I hafta…I hafta…” 

“We can get him here. Oh, damn it, your IV came out. I’ll call someone…Stiles?”

Stiles feels strange, light-headed but through his whole body, and the edges of his vision are starting to get fuzzy. “Gotta…” His tongue doesn’t want to work, but he makes it. He needs to get the words out before everything goes black. “Gotta warn him…”

xxx 

Stiles dreams of blood, an ocean of it under a maroon red sky. The waves crash over him again and again, and he doesn’t have time to come up for air. It fills his nostrils and his mouth, coppery and sharp. 

His teeth are sharp, too, growing until they cut into his lower lip and his own blood is added to the mix. 

The taste makes him smile.

xxx 

The next time he wakes up, there’s a hand on his wrist, gentle, and he recognizes the warm tingling sensation of pain being drawn from his body. He frowns, turning his head slightly with a small groan. 

“Stiles?”Scott says softly. “Hey, you awake?”

Stiles forces his eyes open, blinking, and it takes a moment for his eyes to focus in the low light. 

“Heyyy…” he says sleepily, the last remnants of unconsciousness still clinging to the edges of his mind. 

Scott sighs, hanging his head with a breathy chuckle. “Oh, thank god. You really scared me, you know.”

Stiles just hums in response. Scott continues.

“Hey, your dad said you wanted to talk to me. That maybe you wanted to…warn me about something?”

The fog clears as suddenly as if a switch has been flipped and everything comes rushing back: his jeep, the man, the fangs--

“It was a vampire,” Stiles says, and Scott’s brows furrow, his mouth turning up at the corners. Stiles doesn’t wait for him to speak. “I’ve got two holes in my neck, Scott. I felt his fangs. I felt the blood leaving my body. And he said--he said to tell you that the…Children of Lamia are coming. Whoever he is, he’s not alone, Scott, there are more like him coming.”

Scott blinks. “Oh my god. Oh my god. This must be what our parents have been keeping from us--oh my god this is all my fault. I should’ve had my phone on, I should’ve--”

“Scott,” Stiles interrupts. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“Stiles, when I found you, you--you were barely alive.” Scott blinks back tears. “And when you got to the ER, you died, Stiles. Mom cracked your ribs giving you CPR.” His hand is still on Stiles’s wrist, which explains why Stiles hadn’t noticed the broken bones. 

“I…I didn’t know that,” Stiles says. The momentary clarity is already, infuriatingly, starting to get clouded by fatigue. “‘m okay now, though, Scott. You got me here. You saved me.”

“And you're exhausted. Why don’t you get some more rest.”

“What about the vampires?” Stiles asks, but he can already feel his eyes slipping shut.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Stiles forces his eyes open, looking at Scott. “And what if…what if I’m--”

“We’ll figure it out,” Scott says firmly.

Stiles nods, and it’s only moments before he slips back into sleep and dreams, once more, of blood.

xxx end

[lifblogs]

Pie's On Me

Whumptober 2022 @whumptober-archive NO. 8 EVERYTHING HURTS AND I'M DYING Stomach Pain | Head Trauma | Back from the Dead

Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Destiel Word Count: 1845 Summary: Dean gets hit in the head with a crowbar during a hunt, and Sam and Castiel rush to save him. WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence READ ON AO3

Dean was on the ground. For a second he was confused as to how he had gotten there. Then he remembered seeing the crowbar in the corner of his vision. His head wasn’t just pounding, it felt like it was splintering apart. The crowbar had gotten him right against the left side of his head, and he still felt like he was being hit by it. The pressure was burying into his skull, maybe into his brain, and it wouldn’t let up. The pain got worse and worse, till he was screaming.

He wasn’t too sure what else was happening. There were sounds outside of the agony he was in, and he thought maybe Sam was fighting off their adversary with the crowbar. God, he hoped Sam would be okay.

Blood ran hot through his hair, covering his ear, and dripping down onto his forehead. Soon it was getting into his eyebrow, and down into his eye.

Dean tried to blink it away, tried to brush it off with his hand. He couldn’t move much for some reason.

Minutes passed with Dean trying to count his breaths, trying to feel the ground against his body, to orient himself with something outside of his pain. But it was no use. He was panting, agonized voice breaking the cold air.

Hands were on him, and for a second Dean tried to fight off whoever was touching him, and nausea swelled through him.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s me,” Sam intoned.

Dean relaxed, but still groaned as the nausea grew worse.

Sam rolled him over, and got his head into his lap. Dean didn’t have it in him to tell his brother he might be seconds away from puking all over his jeans.

“God, Dean. Okay, uh… Cas, we gotta get you to Cas.”

“Mm hmm…” was all Dean could manage as an answer.

There was a sound of fabric ripping and then it was being held against Dean’s head, Sam trying to stop the bleeding. But the pressure he applied, even if it was slight, was too much, and Dean screamed.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Sam released the pressure, and Dean was sure his head was bleeding out all over his brother now.

“Can you stand? I have to get you to the car.”

Dean just groaned, which to him definitely meant NO, NO, NO, and NO. I can’t stand.

Sam started helping him to his feet. The pain grew, like a spike was being driven into his skull. His world swayed.

Next thing Dean knew he was pitching forward and puking his guts up all over the floor. Sam held him up. When Dean seemed to be done, Sam rubbed his back as he helped him walk. His vision was watery, everything just wrong, and oh god, how he wanted to sleep.

Somehow after agonizing minutes, and Dean pausing to puke a few more times, now shaky and quickly losing all his energy, he was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala. Sam had taken off his own jacket and bundled it up so it could be used as a pillow since Dean couldn’t seem to sit up. By now, blood coated his clothes along his left side, and a bit down the front. He was sweating too, but it was a cold sweat. A lot of Dean felt cold, starting from his head, even with the hot blood in his hair, against his scalp, and running down him.

Dean closed his eyes, moaning, holding his stomach as the engine purred and the car lurched into motion. Luckily it wasn’t the injured side of his head that rested against Sam’s jacket and the window. He tried opening his eyes, but again, the world spun, and nothing seemed to be in focus. It was like he was looking at everything through a watery sheen.

Sam was talking to someone on the phone, and Dean felt a bit relieved.

Cas was rushing to his car, phone held to his ear, with Sam on the other line.

“Where are you? I can meet you halfway,” Cas said.

Sam gave a destination, and suggested where they could meet. Cas almost groaned. That destination would take hours to get to for both parties. And Dean was hurt. According to Sam’s description, he was hurt badly. A hospital might not be able to save him, but Castiel could.

It wasn’t the first time that Dean’s life had depended upon him, but as always, he was terrified, barely able to think straight.

But he had to, for Dean, for the man he loved, and who somehow loved him back.

Cas got in the car, put the key in the ignition, turned it, and accidentally flooded the engine because of how eager he was to get out of here. His hands were shaking like he was nothing more than human, and it was hard to breathe. He didn’t need to breathe, yet it seemed his vision was somehow doubling from panic.

No, I’m stronger than this.

He’d just lost Dean so many times, both to death, to the manipulation of others, to devastating partings where Cas felt useless, useless, useless!

He wouldn’t be useless. Not this time. But oh, if only his wings weren’t ruined masses upon his back. Unfortunately, he was grounded, and had to play by the rules of travel that humans did.

With conviction, managing to get control over this body that had become his, he set out to save Dean Winchester.

“Hey, you still with me?” Sam cried out. There was a hand gripping his shoulder.

“Mm… Cas?”

“We’ll get you to him soon, just hang in there.”

Dean drifted off back to sleep.

Sam drove as fast as he could to where he said he’d meet Cas, eyes always half on his brother to make sure he didn’t pitch forward, or that he wasn’t going to puke again. God, he was still bleeding. Not in the terrible waves and pulses like earlier, but bright red blood still spurted from where he’d been hit. Sam couldn’t even see the wound, but he could see the swelling. His breaths were shallow, but quick, like he couldn’t breathe properly, like oxygen wasn’t getting to his blood. There was so much of it on him, he wasn’t even sure how much blood he had left. But he was alive still. Yes, he was alive.

Sam blinked stinging tears out of his eyes, and willed the Impala to go faster, even as he knew that physics was against him there.

“Hold on, Dean. Please hold on.”

His brother didn’t respond, in some sort of deep sleep.

Thank god the whole you have to keep the person awake thing when it came to head injuries was a myth because Sam wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to do it.

Cas was on the phone again, being the one to have called this time, checking to see if Dean was still alive, if he was going to make it.

He was for now, but how long did he have left?

Cas drove almost right up to the Impala, both of them getting to their destinations at the same time. As Cas rushed over, Sam was already on the passenger’s side of the Impala, getting Dean out.

“Dean!” Cas cried, but there was no response. Still, he thought maybe he saw his chest rise and fall, but just barely. God, there was so much blood.

The best Sam could do was lie him on the cold, dark dirt on the side of the road. Cas knelt by Dean, putting his hands on his chest. As his grace reached out to fix the wound, he could feel it, could feel the swelling inside Dean’s head, the swelling in his brain, feel the blood loss, get a sense of every bit of pain he was feeling, could feel the sickness this brought to his stomach, could feel his body preparing to bring up mucus to choke on it where he lay.

Gold light encompassed them, his power working away at Dean’s head, healing, starting from the deepest part. Dean became conscious during it, eyes flying wide open, and then he gasped. Cas let out a breath of relief, releasing his grace.

He was fully healed.

Dean looked at Sam hovering over him, at Cas. For a moment his eyes seemed to tear up, but then his face hardened.

Oh, the everlasting veneer of manliness that haunted Dean Winchester.

Dean sat up, and hugged Sam, Cas smiling as he watched them. Then, to his surprise, Dean grabbed his face and was kissing him. He wasn’t usually big on displays like this in front of Sam, but his mouth was open, as if trying to suck in all Cas was, as if trying to thank him for being alive, for being there for him. Cas held him close, one hand against the back of his head, not at all caring for the blood that got in his fingers now that it was blood that spoke of a past injury, an injury he’d healed.

Cas let Dean have what he wanted, what he needed, and oh, Cas needed it too. In the terrifying hours of driving all alone, not knowing if Dean was going to make it, he had wished to have him right there, to hold him, and tell him it was going to be all right.

Dean was breathless when he pulled his lips back, resting his forehead against Castiel’s.

“You bastard,” Dean breathed.

“What?” Cas asked, barely able to hold in the smile pulling at his lips.

“You didn’t even get out of breath.”

“Well, I am an angel.”

“Thank fuck.”

Dean’s lips were against his again, Castiel nipping at them, before licking at the seam of them, begging entry. As he began to explore Dean’s mouth, began to think of what they could do once they were home and Dean was all cleaned up, heat traveling down into his pelvis, Sam cleared his throat.

“Yes, we’re all glad Dean is alive.”

Castiel pulled back, still holding Dean, but he felt a blush rising to his cheeks. Oh, such a human reaction to this.

“Sorry,” Cas said, lowering his eyes.

Dean just sniffed, and gave a nod. But that didn’t stop him from looping an arm around Cas’ waist once they were standing, didn’t stop him from leaning into him.

“Thank you. Both of you.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” Sam said with a shrug, clearly lying his ass off, as Dean would say.

Dean beamed at him.

“It wasn’t nothing. I’m lucky to have you as a brother.” He turned to him now. “And Cas, I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”

Sam laughed. “You kiss all your friends like that?”

“Shut up.”

“Fine, as—as, whatever it is we are to each other, whatever there is between us. I’m one hell of a lucky man.”

“The word boyfriend does exist,” Cas told him.

“We’ll talk about it later. Let’s go home. Pie’s on me.”

[kursed-curtain]

Whumptober 2022 | Day 6

Ransom Video | “I’ve got a pulse” | Screams from Across the Hall

Kyle took Larry's stiff hand, intertwining coarse fingers. The commotion from a few days ago had settled - the infiltration that stunned them all, and left many to rot in the shadow of their aching hearts. Kyle was one of the many to have taken a hit, but Larry was the one genuinely hit. The long, winding blast of a scar still shimmered in green, and Kyle cursed the fates for it.

Kyle sat down on a stool next to the infirmary bed and pressed his forehead against Larry's. It all felt so cold. Horrible thoughts hit him, fists against glass, sending tears down his cheeks. He didn't want to live on without someone by his side.

"Larry..." Kyle croaked.

Mrs. Hobblepot put a finger to her lips. Kyle hushed.

"I think..." She mused, "...I've got a pulse."

Kyle froze, wiping tears away. "...Does that mean...?"

Mrs. Hobblepot sighed, smiling up at Kyle. "There's still hope."

[yourplaceorminedigital]

Surviving a Car Crash on Grundy Mountain in 1972: A Band's Near-Death Experience

Did I ever tell you the story about the time the band almost died in a car crashing off the side of Grundy Mountain in Virginia? Fun days for sure! It was February 1972, Super Bowl Week. I was drumming and singing with a Top 40 shiny dance band (we had rhinestone stage clothes) called Whiskey Creek; a name my bandmates stole from a country band I’d played with a few years before reasoning we…

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[trashmakerarticle]

Everyone thinks that dick was the golden child when in reality it was Jason.

Clark: Bruce who was your favourite robin?

Dick: obviously it’s me?

Tim: it’s dick

Damian: I am superior robin, it will be me.

Bruce: it’s Jason

Everyone: WHAT?!?!???

Bruce: why are you so surprised? He didn’t jump on too my chandeliers which I had to replace each week

*everyone looks at dick*

Bruce: he didn’t drop out of school

*everyone looks at tim*

Bruce: I didn’t have to stop him from killing everyone who annoyed him

*everyone looks at Damian*

Bruce: in fact, he enjoyed school and handed all his homework in on time, we would spend hours in the library reading his favourite classics. He even helped Alfred with most of the cooking, He was my little boy

Jason: stop spreading lies, I hate you go away

Bruce: my precious little boy

[niightniines]

it came to me in a dream

[cogneartive]

theyre like siblings to me. theyre liek oomfs….

[qandnotu]

moshi moshi

[alexsiple]

some of my favorite cards from the death note tarot set i made. which you can get here, by the way

[cracklewink]

lullay moon princess

[numbuh424]

"What's the matter, Near?" 🖊️🧩

Inspired by the scene in Relight 2: L's Successors where Light has a majority of the SPK killed. Near calls him and sits in tense silence (and a pool of blood).

[gumdefense]

We have moved past Maya and Franziska wingmanning narumitsu as a society. They would not fucking do that. We need to realise the truth which is that Larry and Gumshoe would try to wingman them and only succeed through failure

[patchworkprince]

happy pride