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jasmines-library · 7 months

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Hidden On The Inside

WHUMPTOBER DAY 21. Prompt: “Near death experience” Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: During a hunt, you take a nasty hit which at first seems fine, but it's what's hidden deep under the surface that creates a problem. (I get it, i suck and writing summaries.)

Warnings: Internal bleeding, hospitals, surgery.

Word count: 1.5k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You were a force to be reckoned with when it came to a fight. You were a strong and fierce opponent with an even stronger will. You had always been a fighter. Like Dean’s, your temper would flare up quickly in the face of any kind of challenge or injustice, and you typically responded with physical aggression.

You had been a hunter for many years, having grown up in the life much to your dads disapproval. When you were finally old enough, and after a lot of convincing, you were finally allowed to join your Dad on small hunts in the area. A ghost here, a vampire there. It was always the same routine—they'd enter a town, slip up, you and your dad would hunt them down before returning to the motel for some take out. But, one day when you were in your mid-twenties, your dad never made it home. It was that night that you met the Winchesters. They had given you a shoulder to cry on that night. It was a strange, yet kind gesture; to give a grieving stranger somewhere to feel safe. The three of you were thick and thieves after that night. You lived and hunted together and soon you began to feel as though a missing part of you had been filled.

The three of you were hunting a pack of wolves. Child's play. But these wolves were abnormally strong, and it took almost all of your strength to push them back and kill them, but they were wearing thin too, and soon there was only a small handful of them left. One charged, baring its teeth at you. They two of you scuffled; quickly locked in a fight. As the fight dragged on with neither of you making much progress, the two of you tired quickly. But then in a flurry of moves, your opponent landed a series of punches and finally managed to fling you into the wall in a fit of rage. You hit the wall hard but didn’t make a sound. You just gritted your teeth and shrugged it off; you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you. As the fight went on, the blows came harder and faster, with neither of you giving an inch. Until finally, he slipped up and you managed to jab him with your silver blade.

“Are you okay?” Sam questioned as he sauntered back over to you after tossing the match onto the bodies. “I saw you hit the wall pretty hard.”

You rubbed the back of your neck dubietly. “Yeah. I’m fine. It was just a little unexpected.”

“Are you sure?” He drew in his eyebrows, creating little wrinkles on his forehead.

“Positive.”

When you told Sam that you felt fine, it wasn't completely a lie. At the time, you did feel ok, a little sore, but ok. Though as time went on and the world sped around the Impala, you began to feel off. You ignored it, of course. You hadn't been injured that bad, you assured yourself. Nothing could be wrong. You had endured much worse and been fine, yet the uneasiness continued and a dull ache began to grow throughout your body as your skin paled.

“You okay back there sweetheart?” Dean asked, glancing back at you in the rear-view mirror when he noticed your absence in the conversation. Your silence was loud.

“Peachy.” You hummed, avoiding his gaze. You knew you looked into his eyes he would know exactly what was up. It was like a 6th sense of his.

“I’m only asking ‘cause you look a little pale.” He added.

“I skipped breakfast this morning. It’s probably just that.” You shrugged “Quit worrying, Dean.”

He was right to worry though, because the moment you stepped out of the car, a wave of nausea hit you and you lost your footing slightly. Sam picked up on your stumble.

“Woah. Careful Y/N. Are you sure you're okay?”

“I’m fine, Sam.”

He eyed you slyly. You weren’t one to be clumsy. Sam followed you closely as you hauled yourself down the steps of the bunker, much slower than usual as you fought the unease that contaminated your body. By the time you reached the bottom, a sheen of sweat had broken across your forehead, and you were short of breath, panting against the pain in your abdomen.

You had barely made it halfway across the room when the lightheadedness kicked in and you had to grab the table to keep you from doubling over with your vision. Taking a step forwards and letting go of the table, your body swayed, causing bile to rise in your throat. You had just about stumbled to your room by clinging onto the walls when another wave rolled over you causing your legs to buckle and your body careen to the side and hit the ground with a groan of pain. You clutched at your stomach.

Your vision swam as you lay there in a dazed state, fading in and out of your pain laced world. You weren’t sure how long it was before your heard footsteps escaping down the hall.

Sam knocked on the door. He hadn’t heard from you since the three of you arrived home over an hour ago and he had begun to grow worried. You didn’t look well at all when you forced yourself out of the impala. Your skin was paler than usual and clammy and alongside that your footsteps were all out of beat. When there was no reply, sam asked for you but his words went through one ear and out of the other, not even stopping in your mind.

He pushed the door open and froze at the sight of your body sprawled out across the cold floor. Your chest barely rose and fell.

“Shit.” Sam dived forwards, dropping his bags on floor. “Y/N?” He patted your face lightly, but all you did was groan.

Gingerly, Sam eased your arms away from your stomach and rolled up the hem of your shirt. What he saw made him gasp. From your chest all the way down your abdomen, were deep purple bruises.

“Dean!”

His older brother raced into the room at his brother's cry of distress, staggering to a stop when he saw the state of your body.

“Get the keys.” Sam ordered, before scooping you up into his arms.

The two of them made it to the car in record time. Sam manoeuvred himself into the back with you, as Dean made his way to the drivers side and started the engine. In typical Dean fashion, the car was going too fast, but neither of them cared. Sam held you close to remind you that everything was going to be alright even if you weren’t completely coherent. Dean focused on the road, cursing every red light they hit. At some point, he gave up stopping.

When the Impala peeled into the parking lot Sam rushed inside carrying you still, Dean followed close behind. The two were frantic as they called for help which didn’t seem to come quick enough. It was a blur as the hospital staff took your fading body and rushed you into surgery.

Dean’s leg bounced as he waited for the nurse to return from your hospital room. The pair of them hadn’t moved in hours, waiting anxiously for.. well anything.

When the moment finally came and called out your name, they didn’t waste any time in going to meet her. And then came the news.

“Miss Y/n has suffered severe internal bleeding. The doctors have managed to stabilise her with surgery, but she will need to stay in observation for a while.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief.

“You’ll be happy to know that she is awake and asking for the two of you.”

The nurse didn’t have time to say anything else because the two brothers had already left and flung the door open.

“Oh Y/n/n…” Sam breathed when he saw you, hooked up to a multitude of machines. Despite your tired eyes, there was still a soft grin on your face.

“Hiya Sammy.”

He took your hand. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sore. Whatever drugs they have me on are working miracles.” You let out a small chuckle. “I keep telling them I’m fine, but they won’t let me leave.”

“You’re not fine. Y/N.” Dean said sternly. “You’ve just come out of emergency surgery. You need to rest.”

You were silent.

“I hate hospitals.” You murmured. They reminded you too much of your failures.

“I know. It’s just a few more days and then I’ll take you home.”

“Okay.” you sniffled.

Sam ran his hands through his hair. “God, Y/N you had us so worried.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it was nothing, I really did.”

“It’s okay.” Dean reassured. “You’ll be alright. That’s what matters the most.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 20 ⛤ DAY 22 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

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whumpshots · 7 months

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Whumptober #21

Trope of the day: “Don’t move.”

Whumpee doesn't understand why the team looks at them in horror. The pain hasn't even reached their brain yet, their body too full of adrenaline to realise what is going on. Only when their head feels dizzy, whumpee realises something is going on.

Something bad.

Almost as fast as they collapse to the floor, caretaker's by their side, the rest of the team following. Whumpee sees blood on caretaker's hands as they check their body and finally realises that it must be really bad. They hear the others talk, but their words don't make it to their brain.

A second ago, everything was fine, now whumpee has problems keeping their eyes open. "Eyes on me, kid," caretaker says with a stern voice, that kind of voice they only use when things are looking pretty rough. Whumpee wants to ask what is going on, their body in pain as they move their arms and try to gather strength.

“Don't move.” Caretaker's voice is low, but something doesn't seem right. Whumpee wants to protest, but a hand lands on their shoulder and squeezes it softly. “Don't move, kid. This will hurt.”

#whumptober 2023 #whumptober2023 #whumptober #trope of the day #“Don't move.”#whump writing #whumpee #caretaker #collapse #injured whumpee #no.21 #whumpshots

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theaphroditefashionfile · 8 months

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No 21 Spring 2024 Ready-to-Wear MFW

#no. 21 #no.21 #no 21 #n°21 #high fashion #mfw #mfwfw23 #fw23 #backstage

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bumblingdragon · 7 months

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Whumptober - day 21 - Restraints

special cargo

#whumptober2023 #no.21 #(that prompt word gets nuked by tumblr)#OC #art #digital art #my art

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insertsomthinawesome · 1 year

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WHUMPTOBER 2022 - DAY 21 - You’re Safe Now

Kaeya actually probably knows a lot about helping people through panic attacks, he is a knight after all. It comes in handy now and again. :’]

-NO ROMANCE INCLUDED-

#Whumptober2022 #No.21 #You're Safe Now #Genshin Impact #Digital Art #crying #Whumptober #zhongli #kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya genshin impact #zhongli genshin impact #isa's fanart #insertsomthinawesome #January2023 #Zhongli and Kaeya besties agenda comes flying onto the scene again

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thesaintlaurent · 1 year

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#no.21 #fashion #style #pre-fall 2023 #ready to wear #rtw

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theaphroditefashionfile · 2 months

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No. 21 Fall 2024 Ready-to-Wear MFW

#no. 21 #no.21 #no 21 #n°21 #high fashion #runway #mfw #fw24 #mfwfw24

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omgiamwish · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 Day 21 - "Don't move."

"Hey man, don't move. You're super fucked up right now."

#whumptober2023 #no.21 #don't move #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #art #blood #injury #hanazawa teruki #teruki hanazawa #suzuki shou #shou suzuki #fan art #artists on tumblr

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adrift-in-thyme · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 21: "Don't Move"

- Four, Warriors, & Twilight

- Summary: Four awakens to find himself in a rather tough spot

CW for impalement, blood and injury, and brief references to death

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Four’s world is a blur of light and sound. His ears ring. His eyes are wet with tears. Everything is too loud, too harsh, too bright. Everything hurts.

He can’t remember why. His thoughts are mere shreds of things, insubstantial and quick to skitter away when he grasps for them.

He needs to get up though, he knows that much. His instincts are screaming at him to move.

Gritting his teeth he tries…only to bite back a scream as excruciating pain shoots up his leg. Something warm oozes out in its wake. The unpleasant sensation drags Four toward consciousness.

Gasping a thin breath, he forces open his eyes. His surroundings swim nauseatingly. The ringing lessens, replaced instead by a hissing sort of sound like the wind brushing at blades of crisp grass. He is drowning in an ocean of pain. He is drowning and desperately trying to fight it.

Four shuts his eyes, holds them closed until the muscles behind them ache, then drags them open again. This time things are a bit clearer. Not that he is particularly glad of it, however. Because once he gets a good look at his surroundings, he sees why everything feels quite so unpleasant.

He is lying on his side, propped up awkwardly on one arm. Surrounding him are the remains of what he guesses was once a monster camp. Shreds of tarp and large pieces of wood are scattered everywhere that he can see — which admittedly is not too far thanks to the abundant smoke that has yet to settle. It hovers over everything, its thick grayish-black plumes reaching toward the sky. Four coughs into his hand as it tickles his throat. Something escapes his mouth and splatters onto the back of it. Slowly, he lifts it up so he can peer at it.

Flecks of deep crimson dot his skin like gory confetti. Four swallows hard.

It could’ve been there before he coughed…right?

But no, the bitter taste of iron negates that hope.

Four inhales again, clenching and unclenching his hands.

Keep it level. Don’t…don’t hyperventilate. Makes things worse.

If he stays calm, he can figure this out. It’s not the first time he has awoken wounded and disoriented. He dealt with it before, he’ll do it again.

…only that seems like quite a difficult feat at the moment with the world still struggling to remain still and his stomach churning in time with the suffocating ache of his body. And then, his gaze happens to drift to his abdomen and everything becomes much, much worse.

The pain is more severe there, he realizes now, and has been since he awoke. He supposes in his hazy state he just hadn’t fully registered it. But now that he has realized it — now that he has seen the reason — he cannot possibly ignore it.

One of the spikes that border many monster camps juts out of him, bloodied and cracked.

Four chokes again, spewing more blood. This time it dribbles down his chin. He can’t bring himself to wipe it away. All he can see is the spike sticking out of him, lifting grotesquely with each strangled breath. All he can hear is his heartbeat thudding so loud he is certain the entire world shakes with it.

Damage of organs, internal bleeding, infection…the consequences swirl in his mind, tripping over one another in an effort to be heard. He has read about injuries like this.

Pulling it out alone is enough to do him in. If the pain doesn’t, the blood loss certainly will.

A fairy might be able to make a large enough difference for him to manage but he doesn’t have any on him. At least…he thinks he doesn’t. Truthfully, he can’t really remember. Maybe he should just check…

He tries to reach for his pouch. But the movement sends white-hot agony streaking through him. His hand falls back to his side as a strangled scream breaks loose. His vision goes spotty. The world seems to fall away and he’s floating, weightless, wrapped in the bitter embrace of pain.

….

“Smithy?”

Four opens his eyes with a groan. He doesn’t recall closing them.

Must’ve blacked out, he thinks dazedly. Wish I’d stayed unconscious.

Oblivion was blessedly painless. This reality of sharpness and light is anything but.

“Smithy!”

Warriors races into view, scarf billowing behind him like an expanse of night sky. He stops short a short distance from Four, eyes widening slightly. Twilight appears right behind him and his expression quickly comes to mirror Warriors’.

“Sweet Ordona,” he breathes.

Four blinks, long and slow. Everything feels as though it’s moving at the speed of a slug. Thought alone seems impossible, much less speech. His tongue feels like a leaden weight, his lips sealed by dryness and blood.

As his brothers rush forward all he can do is watch.

“Don’t move, smithy” Warriors orders, eyes already roaming over the smithy’s body, analyzing the situation and finding a way out. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you free.”

“C-can’t,” Four manages. The word grates on his abused throat, drawing forth a weak cough. More crimson liquid bubbles out, spilling over his lips. It runs down his chin to soak into his tunic. “Can’t pull it…”

“He’s right.” Twilight steps forward now. He links his fingers with Four’s, touch warm and welcome. “We try and pull that out and it won’t end well.”

Warriors kneels, heedless of the blood and dust muddying his immaculate uniform. His brow furrows as he gazes at Four’s wound.

“We don’t have any other choice,” he says after a few seconds. “If we keep it in him he’ll bleed out, just at a slower rate. Or…well any manner of things besides that can happen.”

None good, Four thinks wryly. At least, they all seem to be on the same page here. But…he blinks again, struggling to remain alert…but there has to be a way for this to work out. He isn’t going to die here, is he? Skewered on some monster’s makeshift boundary, unable to even recall how he ended up there?

He can’t. Not when he promised Wind he would tell him more about the Minish. Not when he promised Zelda he would come back to her. Not when he still has to drive his sword through that cursed Shadow’s heart.

Not when…not now.

“Four.”

Four drags his gaze up to the captain’s, squinting to try and see his face through the blur.

“I know how to get you free…” Four’s eyes widen slightly, some small hope squirming through the haze he lacks the strength to resist. “...but it’s going to hurt.”

“We’ll do it as fast as possible,” Twilight says. “Should only last a moment or so. But none of it’s gonna be pleasant.”

Warriors cocks his head. “Think you can hold on for us?”

Four nods. If this is the only way then he’ll take it no matter the cost.

“Alright, then. Rancher, you know what to do.”

He is vaguely aware of people shifting around him, footsteps thudding on soft earth. Calloused fingers slide between his own, into the place that Twilight’s were mere seconds ago (he hadn’t even registered them slipping away). Then, Warriors’ voice comes again, closer this time.

“Ready, smithy?”

Four gives the hand a light squeeze. “R-ready.”

Warriors – for that’s who he guesses the hand belongs to – squeezes back. He says something directed away from Four, words he can’t make out past the renewed rush in his ears. And then his very existence dissolves into molten pain.

Agony slices up from his abdomen, licking at his veins like ravenous flames. He screams, harsh and strangled.

“It’s okay,” someone assures him. “It’s almost over.”

Desperately, he prays that they are telling the truth.

The pain increases abruptly, gaining momentum until he is certain his skull will split, bones break, body disintegrate beneath its assault.

“It’s out! Do it, captain!”

His nostrils fill with a familiarly sweet scent wafting from above. Something blankets him like a plush comforter. Slowly, the pain begins to lessen. The weight that had been pressing down on his lungs lifts and he can breathe again. Relief washes over him in a dizzying wave.

Four cracks open his eyes just in time to see a fairy zip over his head, dancing in dizzying circles over his prone body. He is lying on his back now, he realizes dimly, held securely in someone’s arms. A few good blinks and he can make out Warriors’ face drifting somewhere above him.

“Cap-captain?”

Warriors gives him a small smile. “Hey, smithy. How’re you feeling?”

Twilight appears over Warriors’ shoulder, a concerned look on his face. Four manages a small grin for both of them.

“Been…been better.”

The captain nods. “That’s understandable. The spike is out and the fairy healed the major injury. But you’re not out of the woods just yet.”

“Don’t you worry about it, though,” Twilight says. “We’ll get you to safety. You just rest.”

Rest. That sounds wonderful right about now. Four can already feel his eyes slipping closed, his mind and body begging for true slumber instead of the endless darkness of unconsciousness.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, softly. “B-both of you.”

“You would’ve done the same for us,” Twilight replies and Warriors nods.

True, Four thinks as they start back toward camp and he lets himself begin to drift, but he really, really hopes he’ll never have to.

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oxideblack · 5 months

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#Blake's 7 #whumptober2023 #no.21 #See the chains around my feet #Kerr Avon #Roj Blake #Don't You Dare Turn Away into the Darkness #art #illustration #whumptober

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lost-shoe · 2 years

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Supernatural - Maleus Maleficarum (3.09)

Whumptober 2022

No. 21 COUGHING UP BLOOD

#whumptober2022 #no.21 #coughing up blood #supernatural #gifs #blood #spnedit #deanedit #spndaily #spncreatorsdaily #spndeanwinchester #hurt!Dean #jensen ackles #jensenacklesedit #jacklesedit #jensenedit #dean winchester

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atimeofyourlife · 7 months

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Whumptober day 21

rated: t | wc: 460 | prompt: Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.” Steve needs medical attention after the events of season 4, but his trauma from the Russians comes back to haunt him

Steve couldn't help it. The second he saw the needle in the nurse's hand, he was just running on pure instinct as he threw his arm out to knock it away. Deep down, he knew it was just something to take the edge off the pain as they examined the area of the bites, but that did nothing to calm his mind. It did nothing to override the fear of needles that was set deep into him after getting drugged by the Russians under Starcourt. The fear that this would be another drug that would make him lose control of himself the way he had before.

More staff came over, trying to hold him down, to restrain him. But he fought back harder, the fear burrowing deeper into his mind that it was the Russians restraining him again. He fought back as hard as he could, but the pain started to become too much. As his attempts to fight back became weaker, he could feel multiple hands on one of his arms, holding it down until he felt the pinch of an IV being inserted. A few seconds later, he drifted into nothingness.

When he was next fully aware of himself and his surroundings, it only took a couple of seconds for him to realize that he was strapped to the hospital bed at all four limbs. His mind immediately went into panic mode, again thinking that it was the Russians.

"Steve, don't move." He heard Robin say from beside him. He turned his head slowly to look at her.

"What happened?" Steve asked carefully, feeling a little more at ease seeing Robin not being restrained.

"You kept fighting the doctors and nurses whenever they tried to treat you. I tried to stop them, but they said they had no choice other than to restrain you." Robin explained. "They said it was for their safety. I did try to tell them that you wouldn't fight if you could see that I was okay, but they wouldn't listen to me."

"Shit." Steve tried to lift his hand to run it through his hair, only for it to be pulled back by the restraint. "How long?"

"Two days. They've mostly kept you sedated because you kept fighting against the restraints as well, and they didn't want you to hurt yourself more. Maybe now that you're awake and coherent, they might let you out if they can see that you're not a threat to anyone." Robin replied, reaching out to take Steve's hand.

"Maybe." Steve agreed, slumping against his pillows, reluctantly accepting that he would be restrained until a doctor decided to let him free. He just hoped that he would get to keep Robin in his room to help keep him calm.

#whumptober2023 #no.21 #“don't move”#stranger things #fic #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stobin #steve harrington whump #atimeofyourwrites

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