#old injuries

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 6

6. (Jan 11-12) Exhaustion / Blindfolded / Old Injuries  

cw reluctant whumper, exhaustion, blood loss, vampire whumper, human whumpee, scars, intimate whumper 

Whumpee stood in front of the mirror, head tilted to the side as their fingers traced the bite marks going down their neck. They were in various stages of healing—some had faded to white scars, others were bruised and scabbing, and the most recent one was still an aggravated red. If Whumpee scratched at it, it would start bleeding again easily. 

“You okay?” 

They glanced up quickly. “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

Whumper shrugged, eyes locking with theirs in the mirror. “Perks of being a creature of the night, I suppose. Very sneaky.” 

“Right,” Whumpee said with a chuckle. 

A moment of silence passed, with both of their gazes drifting to Whumpee’s neck. Most of the marks were concentrated there, but others were hidden by Whumpee’s clothes. Their wrists, the inside of their elbow, their thighs. 

“You look tired,” Whumper pointed out. 

“I’m fine.” The constant blood loss left them exhausted and perpetually dizzy, but it really was fine. Whumper worried too much. 

They frowned, closing the distance between them and Whumpee. Whumper kissed their neck gently, lips fitting over one of the older bites. “I wish they didn’t scar so much.” 

“I don’t mind,” Whumpee muttered. “I like the reminders of you. Knowing that I can give you what you need, instead of letting you worry about where your next meal is coming from. Or hurting someone who doesn’t want this.” 

Whumper nodded slightly, eyes meeting theirs in the mirror. “We can’t keep doing this forever, though. Someday I'm gonna take too much, and then I don’t know what I'd do with myself.” 

Whumpee took in their own reflection—the pallid skin, distant eyes and dark circles, thin frame—and wondered if that day was very far in the future.  

[tabbytabbytabby]

A Steddie aesthetic for @whumpuary No.6: Exhaustion / old injuries

[whumpshots]

Whump ABC #24

Based on the results of this poll.

_

Whumpee rubs their eyes when they lie down again, caretaker telling them again and again that they need to rest. Compared to other things, whumpee just feels tired, but if caretaker is so insistent, they'll just listen to them.

When the other returns from the talk with the doctor, they are weirdly quiet. Whumpee cracks one eye open and sees caretaker look at them with ... something weird in their eyes. Something they can't quite identify yet.

"Hm?", whumpee grunts and manages to open the other eye, dizziness making it a little hard to see.

"I just saw your x-rays," they begin and swallow. Whumpee furrows their brows questioningly and waits for caretaker to continue. "Nothing broken, but you need to rest more," they finally say and chew on their bottom-lip.

"What else?" Whumpee feels annoyed by how weird caretaker acts and sighs.

"Your x-ray also showed something else. Something ... older." Their eyes meet for a second and whumpee softly snorts before looking up at the ceiling.

"Oh ... That was years ago, don't worry about it too much," they dismiss and start chewing on their own bottom-lip before they feel caretaker's hand on theirs. Years ago means that whumpee was a child, teenager at most when all this happened. But they have buried those memories.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1113

Anon asked:

Do you have any hurt/comfort prompts about chronic pain? My character has chronic pain from old spine and knee injuries and I want him to be taken care of for once instead of having to endure it alone (like me lol).

Sorry to hear you’re suffering Anon! Here are some comfort-based prompts for you. I hope these help: 

When the pain gets so bad, and the caretaker hasn’t seen A in a while, they’ll take a drink and some food to them, as well as a fresh hot water bottle or two to their room. A has been in bed all day, so is thankful for the snack and heat source - their electric blanket just isn’t cutting it. 

Maybe they hate using their mobility aids, but the caretakers find a way to make it more bearable. They glare at anyone who stares at A, they ‘pimp out’ the aid to make it more appealing, if they use a cane they could wrap the handle in something soft to stop it causing blisters (your caretakers always have plasters on hand for this occasion, though).

After too many occasions of A causing themselves more injury/agony by forcing themselves out of bed/a chair/off the ground, the caretakers insist on A texting them if they need help. A is at first reluctant to do this... but one day its so bad all they can text is ‘help’, and the caretakers come running without question. When they’re up, all A can do is apologise in their embarrassment. The caretakers literally don’t care; they’d rather take five minutes helping A up instead of forcing them to endure it themselves. They’re just worried that one day A wont have anyone nearby. 

Maybe they help monitor how much pain medication A is taking (they’re prone to taking too much when it’s bad), because all those tablets can’t be doing A’s liver any good. 

They help with alternative pain management: baths, hot water bottles, an electric blanket, recreational smoking, small exercises etc. 

For A, the summer is unbearable, all the caretakers can do is help massage the painful areas, yet it also inflicts pain on the whumpee. 

A is also miserable when they’re sick - they cannot get comfortable and every cough sends spikes of agony through their spine. 

The caretakers make sure A doesn’t spend too long on their feet (missions/outings etc are planned accordingly.)

If missions/outings do go on for longer than expected, then it’s unlikely anyone will see A for at least a couple of days as they recover. 

Speaking of which... what happens if A is faced with a scenario like the one that caused them their injuries?

Your caretakers comfort A whenever they feel like a burden. They love to remind them that they are more than their body: while it may betray them, the fact that A has survived their injuries is a huge feat of strength. 

And one for the giggles: A is dragged begrudgingly to an acupuncture session to see if it helps. (They were even more begrudging to admit that it did.)

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Whumpuary 2024 No. 6

Exhaustion | Blindfolded | Old Injuries

Whumpuary Prompts List

TW: pain, painkiller mention, stitches mention, exhaustion

Whumpee crawled through their bedroom window in the dead of night. The window sash scraped as they pulled it closed, and Whumpee winced, hyperaware of their parents sleeping one thin wall away. They waited, tense, for the sound of movement, footsteps, fearing that tonight would be the night they were caught in the suit. Tonight would be the night their parents found out about their vigilante work.

A dozen reactions played through Whumpee’s mind as they stood, frozen, near the window. But only silence greeted them. Their parents had not been woken up. Exhaling in relief, Whumpee removed their mask and began to pull off the suit. Their muscles, stiff from chasing a trio of bank robbers, stopping a couple muggers, and battling a supervillain, protested as Whumpee bent over. Not to mention the claw marks across Whumpee’s back from the last supervillain they’d fought.

Gritting their teeth against the pain, Whumpee changed into their pajamas as quickly and quietly as possible. It had been a couple of weeks ago, in broad daylight on a Saturday. Whumpee hadn’t intended on vigilante work that day, but some idiot had gotten their DNA spliced with a wolverine, and the results… were incredibly aggressive. 

Whumpee grimaced. After the fight, they were forced to flee the cops and the media to Caretaker’s house to get patched up. Caretaker hadn’t been too pleased with having to stitch up both Whumpee and their suit. But they were the only other person who knew Whumpee’s secret identity, whether or not they liked it.

Folding up the super-suit, Whumpee buried it in their backpack and slowly stretched. The deep scratches twinged, and with annoyance, they realized they were due for more painkillers. Whumpee had been taking over-the-counter medication for the injury for the last two weeks. While it helped a little, it was still difficult to hide the scratches. That, coupled with the bruising from other battles, meant their fashion style had been reduced to long-sleeved shirts and hoodies.

Sighing heavily, Whumpee plopped onto their bed and stared at the floor. They should go take the painkillers before their back started throbbing again. But they were just… so… tired. They didn’t want to sneak around the house right after almost giving themselves a panic attack over waking their parents. Sure, they weren’t in the suit anymore, but this would be the third time their parents thought they were someone breaking in if they were caught.

Once is happenstance. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern.

It was hard enough lying to their parents when they didn’t suspect anything was amiss. But if Whumpee set them off by sneaking around the house late at night, their parents might start paying more attention. And that would make vigilante work harder than it already was.

Whumpee rubbed their eyes. It was late. They should get to sleep. Lately, they haven’t been getting as much sleep as they should, and the effects were starting to catch up to them. Whumpee slipped under their blankets, but thoughts continued to whirl in their mind. Despite their body’s exhaustion, it took Whumpee a long time to fall asleep.

[snaillamp]

Old Scars - Part 1

This is my first original story I’ve decided to post. Lets see how this goes!

********************

Leader walks with a slight limp in their left leg, made more noticeable after intense training sessions, harder missions or when they get a little hurt. Newbie asks other team members about it but they always talk around it, one only telling Newbie that Leader had got it many years ago on a particularly dangerous mission.

Newbie and their team go on a mission and the team is attacked. The Newbie is trapped, and the Leader goes in to get them despite already being hurt themselves, when all of a sudden the Whumper appears. Leader defends Newbie until the Whumper hits them hard in the exact right place. Leader’s leg gives out and they scream in agony, louder and in more pain than Newbie has ever heard them scream before.

Newbie begins to drift off.

When they come to, they notice Leader slumped against the wall of their small cell, covered in sweat and breathing hard. Newbie scrambles over to Leader. “Oh good, you’re awake.” Leader gasps through their gulps of air. “How long was I out?” Newbie asks. “A few hours at least… since I came too… I’ve been… making sure they… don-dont touch you…” the Leader gasps in pain. Newbie puts their hand on Leader‘s forehead. “You’re so cold.. what-” that’s when they notice that the Leader is covered in bruises and cuts. “I fought them off for now… but I don’t know how long I…. I don’t know how long I can keep going.” The words tumble out of Leader‘s mouth at rapid speed, as they try and talk through their gasps.

“Can you walk?” Newbie asks. “I think… I can stand.” Leader gasps through gritted teeth, as Newbie pulls themself to their feet. They try pulling up Leader, who yells and collapses back down. “I can’t.. I-“

Leader moans and curls up into themselves, clutching their thigh. “Your leg. Let me see.” Newbie gently touches Leaders leg. Leader pulls away and gives Newbie an icy stare. “Please, if we’re gonna make it out of here I have to see it.” Newbie gently pulls the fabric of the pants up the thigh of the Leader’s left leg. It’s swelling and bruised, but Newbies eyes are drawn to the long mangled scar, trailing the length of Leader’s thigh. It clearly hadn’t been stitched up before it healed and looked quite old. “What the- what happened.”

Leader looks away, distant, a dark expression on their face. “Whumper happened.... I was young...” They grunt in pain, shifting slightly.  “Only a few years into my leadership…. Whumper ambushed us and… I was the one who had to... make sure my team got out at any cost. I… fought… and I won, but my prize….” They look down to their scar,  “Well you can see what Whumper have me as my prize.”

Leader shivers as Newbie starts to check the other injuries on their body. “You’re bleeding, externally and internally. I- I’ll try to get help.” Leader laughs drily and shakes their head. “No one’s coming.” They grunt as the try to push themselves off the wall. “Conserve your strength, you’ll need it.”

Newbie shook their head. “Leader. You’re not in any shape to fi-” “I have to…” the Leader barely managed to say the words, their voice weak. Their body suddenly seized up and they gritted their teeth, trying to suppress the cries of pain.

“Leader!” Newbie leaned them back against the wall again. “No.. it’s f… it’s fin-” the Leader huffed as their eyes started to close. They slumped sideways breathing slowly.

They were sweating hard.

part 2 | part 3

[melanie-ohara]

Alive, Just to Watch the Bruises Heal - Chapter 2

Whumpuary, Day 12 - Prompt: Old Injuries

Shepard wants her old scars back, and there's only one person she trusts to do it

Okay, this one is probably the nastiest my whump stories are going to get. Be warned: blood, injury, trauma, and some very bad coping mechanisms.

AO3 Here

Shepard rolled over and looked at Thane. His eyes were closed and his breathing measured, but she didn't think he was asleep. She hadn't taken the anti-hallucinogens Mordin had provided to counteract the toxins in Thane's saliva and sweat, and though the first rush of chemical stimulation had come and gone while they had sex, Shepard was still pleasantly high. Logically, she knew Thane was immune to his own effects, but she couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to live like this all the time. It was the first time in months she hadn't been in pain.

Shepard's eyes trailed along the shape of Thane's profile: the gentle slope of his brow to the dip of his eyes, his flat reptilian nose and full, smooth lips. By the time her gaze came to rest on his chin, he was looking at her too. 

"What are you looking at, Siha?" he asked.

"The most beautiful man I've ever seen," Shepard replied. She hadn't told him that he was the first man she had bedded since her awkward academy years, or that he was the first person to see her naked since Cerberus had pressed her resisting body into service. She had a feeling he knew anyway. 

Thane smiled, and reached over to cup her face in his hand. She let her eyes closed and pressed against him so she could feel the strange membrane that joined his middle fingers against her ear. It would be so easy to fall asleep, comfortable and pain-free, but she pushed the temptation away. There was something she had been wanting to take care of and now, with the suicide mission looming, she didn't want to put it off anymore. She leaned forwards and pressed a soft kiss to Thane's forehead, and then got out of bed.

"Shepard?" he asked, sitting up to watch her in confusion as she pulled on a sports bra and underwear. Now that Miranda owed her for saving her sister, she had convinced her to disable the monitoring devices in her bedroom.

"I need to ask something of you," she said without looking at him. She pulled open the bottom drawer of the wardrobe and dipped her hand inside. 

"Anything," Thane said. When Shepard stood again, he had slipped out of bed and into his own underwear. She hadn't even heard him move. 

"It's still creepy how quiet you can be," she said, and Thane dipped his head in a bashful apology. "And… maybe don't be too quick to agree. You haven't heard what I want yet."

"What do you have behind your back?" Thane asked, gently resting his hand on her arm. He didn't want her to notice, but she could tell he was growing suspicious. She swallowed and took her hands from behind her back to show him the knife. 

It was a honed turian blade, used for skinning in traditional wild animal hunts, and Shepard had sharpened it until it rivaled Chakwas' surgical tools. Carefully, Thane took it from her and felt the weight, turning it over in his lightly scaled hands and running a finger along the flat of the blade. 

"This is an impressive blade," Thane said. "What is it you want from me, Siha?" 

Shepard had to turn away from him before she could answer. She watched the way the cool blue light from the fish tank swirled on the floor grating instead and swallowed the lump of fear swelling in her throat before she said anything. "Before Cerberus got their hands on me, before I… died - " she stopped suddenly, but Thane laid a hand on her shoulder to prompt her to continue. "Before I died, I had scars. Different scars. Scars that Cerberus erased." She turned back to him and looked him in the eyes. "I want them back." 

Thane looked from her down to the knife in his hand and then back again.

"Siha, I - "

"I know what you're going to say," Shepard said. "But I'm not me without them. These are marks I got on Elysium, Therum, Ilos, the Citadel. I could have had them removed - hell, Udina offered to pay for the surgery when I got famous so my headshots wouldn't look so off-putting." She took a step towards him and clasped her hand around his wrist. "They're a reminder of everything I've lost. Everything I've fought for. Everything I still fight for."

She stopped and looked at him, pleading, but he shook his head. "You're not lucid, Shepard. My toxins are still in your bloodstream, affecting your judgement."

"I'm not asking this on a whim, Thane," Shepard said softly. "I've been planning this since before we first met."

"Then why ask me?" 

Shepard sighed and let go of his wrist. "Mordin could do it. He probably wouldn't even ask questions. Doctor Chakwas, if I could put up with the psych eval she'd put me through. Or Miranda, she gave me all these new scars." She paused to look at him again, hoping he'd see the truth of it in her blown-out pupils. "But I trust you more than any of them. You're the only one I want to trust my body to. My past. And I know you have the precision and skill to do it. I want it to be you."

Thane was silent for a long time, and Shepard had to bite her lip to resist the urge to beg. He turned the knife in his hands while he considered it - considered her - his eyes on the fine edge of the blue-black blade. Was it sharp enough to slice her skin neatly? Could he wield a blade against a woman he loved? Could he stand to make her bleed?

Finally, he held the knife still. "Where?" he said.

"Thank you, Thane," Shepard breathed. 

She called up her omni-tool and flicked through the images she had prepared. A lot of them came from official Alliance media just after The Battle of the Citadel, but she'd had to use pictures she'd taken herself for the marks her uniform covered. A lot of them had Liara in them originally. 

"Here," she said, enlarging a picture of her leg and rotating it in the air so Thane could see. A pale scar cut along her calf, just below her knee. "This one first." 

He knelt and lifted her leg into his lap. The way he touched her now, examining her skin to find the exact angle for the knife, reminded her of how he had treated her in bed: there was that same methodical, conditioned fluidity to his movements that made her feel so safe. He pressed a kiss to her knee and she closed her eyes briefly. While she was distracted, he slashed the knife quickly across her flesh and she gasped in shock. 

A glancing slice from the beam of a geth ghost energy weapon, that would have destroyed her knee if aimed just a little better.

"I am sorry," Thane said, but Shepard shook her head and lifted her leg out of his grip, tilting it to look at the new wound. Other than the fresh blood trailing down her calf, it looked exactly the way it used to. Exactly the way it should.

"It's perfect," she said. Maybe it was the drell toxins clouding her mind, but other than a dull ache she didn't even feel it. Thane didn't return her smile, but he did nod in understanding. His past was dark and painful too, and Shepard knew if anyone would understand the need to bear a constant reminder of suffering, it would be Thane. She pulled up the next image.

A new Cerberus scar ran from Shepard's sternum to her belly button, where something had been put inside her and sewn up again, but before there had been a long scar that crossed from under ribs to the centre of her stomach. Thane turned the knife into a reverse grip, kissed Shepard lightly where the cotton of her underwear met her skin, and then quickly stood and made his cut.

A knife fight behind a bar, where a batarian slaver had tried to grab a teenage boy.

The cut hurt more, but Shepard didn't care. She ignored the blood too, this time. The first time she had got that wound it had been deep, and the blood was all she could think about. If the batarian hadn't assumed he'd killed her and run off, she was sure she wouldn't have survived. It was good to have the reminder back where it belonged. 

"Another," Shepard said. She had thought she was checking Thane could keep going, but it came out like a demand. 

She was about to try again when Thane took her hand and used it to flip to the next image - a high-resolution shot of her face, from her brief time as the Alliance poster girl. 

"These are the last three," she said, and left the question implied. 

"I understand," Thane said, examining the short scar that traced its way from the side of her neck to her collar bone.

"It stops just here," Shepard said, touching a finger to her own skin and leaving a fingerprint of blood to mark the spot. "I couldn't - " before she could explain that all the topless pictures she still had featured distinctive blue hands on her skin, Thane had slashed her with the knife. 

A shot from a rifle that had pierced her hardsuit. If not for the automatic medigel sealing her skin, she would have bled out in minutes. Liara had been there to see it.

Blood seeped into the cotton of her bra and Shepard nodded.

"This one is important," she said. She was starting to feel a tingle in her fingertips, but she knew the Cerberus implants would keep her from losing too much blood. 

Thane ran the tip of the knife over the image first, tracing the long cut that traveled down from above her left eye, across her face, over her lips, and down to her chin on the opposite side. 

"Siha," Thane whispered. 

"I survived it the first time, and it was much worse than it looks," Shepard said. She wasn't prepared for this to end yet, not when she was so close to being complete again. 

"It will hurt."

"I know." 

"Close your eyes."

Shepard did as she was told, and though she knew the next thing she was going to feel would send her back to that frozen street on Elysium all those years ago, Thane made her feel too safe to care. Instead of the knife, though, he gave her his lips first, pressing them to hers with an urgency he hadn't show her before. She kissed him back, feeling the prickle of the toxin in his saliva spark against her lips. Just as she was wondering if it was intentional - if he was dosing her to keep the pain at bay - the knife interrupted her train of thought.

A spear from kishock harpoon gun, fired from the top of the building next to her, had narrowly missed her head. Instead, it had slashed across her face and turned her skin and muscle to hot pulp. Occasionally she still dreamed about screaming.

Shepard nearly fell to her knees as the sharp pain lanced through her. Unlike the original injury, Thane had deliberately missed her eye, and it was her split-open lips that hurt her the most. Her mouth filled with blood and the iron tang made her feel sick.

"Medi-gel," she managed to burble through the mess, and spat it out as Thane quickly passed the minifacturer of his own omni-tool over her lips, stemming the bleeding in a few seconds. 

"We should stop," Thane said.

"I'm fine," Shepard insisted, a little thickly through her numb lips. "You said it would hurt, and it did." 

Thane had to understand that it was what she needed. None of the pain came close to the agony of the first few weeks of implant adjustment, and she had waged war across the Traverse without anybody even suspecting anything was wrong. The scars Thane was recreating for her had almost ended her on the days she got them, but in the days since they reminded her she was alive. The cuts hurt now, but every single one made her feel lighter. Better. She couldn't explain it to him, but the last one was the smallest of the lot and stopping now would leave her feeling as incomplete as if Cerberus had left off one of her limbs.

Thane sighed and switched the knife to his other hand. "Last one," he said.

"Last one."

This time he didn't try and make it a surprise - the cut was completely straight, which was maybe unsurprising given who gave it to her, and it meant that Thane needed to steady the blade with his other hand, pressing his palm over the back of the knife to keep it in place. Again, Shepard felt the comforting presence of his webbed middle fingers against her ear, and she smiled at him. Finally, he smiled back. Instead of letting him make the cut, Shepard took a sudden step forwards, and felt the knife dig in and slice through.

Saren's mutated corpse had slashed for her head and she had taken a step back just in time. His longest talon raked across her right cheek in a perfectly uniform arc.

Thane dropped the knife and wrapped his arms around her, welcoming her lips on his despite the blood that smeared onto his skin. It was over. She was back. 

"Thank you, Thane," she whispered into his skin, "I know that was hard."

"Anything for you, Siha," he whispered back. They kissed again, but Thane pulled away after far too short a time. "Medigel," he said, and his tone told Shepard that he was not to be argued with. She nodded, and let him take care of her.

The slow application of gel let Thane run his fingers over his handiwork, and Shepard couldn't help but see it as symbolic. He had made her whole again, and now he was healing her old injuries. Making her better. By the end, she was tingling from the drell toxins that had got into her blood when they kissed and she felt warm and delicate from the gentle heat of the medigel. Above all, she felt loved. Thane insisted on taking her to the shower so he could wash of the blood, but she stopped at the fishtank to look at her reflection in the glass.

She looked like she had crawled out of hell, and in a way she had. Blood streaked down her face where the new scars were still a vicious red. It got in her hair and stained her underwear. When she opened her mouth, she could see the stains of red on her teeth. She wondered if this was how she'd looked on Elysium, when they found her broken body. 

It felt good to be herself again.

[cassieloveswhump]

Kinda obsessed with old ankle injuries at the moment.

Like maybe Whumpee does sports/likes jumping around/ doing rope courses and twists their ankle? And maybe they’re too embarrassed to admit that they hurt themselves over something that trivial and don’t treat it until it’s all swollen.

Ankle injuries really hurt to walk on and you get really tired trying to accomodate it too.

Maybe Whumpee twists the same spot twice and now it just flares up every so often. It’s not that inconvenient, not really, it’s not serious, or well that’s what they think, until their ankle gives out just as they’re about to throw off Whumper and escape.

(This may or may not be based off myself who twisted my ankle twice, exact same way in a span of 18 months as a child. It’s been years and occasionally my ankle is just like hi I will be giving up on you and you will not be able to walk without pain for 15 minutes)

[kyanako5972]

Whumpuary 6

Old injuries (Weave Sutari, ~32)

After ten years, the scars ought to look different, but... I can only do so much with a quick ink drawing.

[sunnnnyy]

flotsam

He wakes in total darkness. He doesn't remember how he got here.

Read on Ao3

Prompt 6, fic 6! Prompts: Exhaustion | Blindfolded | Old Injuries

You can find all my Whumpuary fics in my series on Ao3

[whumpshots]

Whump Snippet Saturday #37

Whumpee tries to play it off cool when they walk into the room and sit down next to caretaker, who already shoots them a glance. Because whumpee tried their best to walk as normal as possible, but the throbbing pain only let them to some extent.

It's exhausting to hide the pain and the limp that comes with it, but old wounds and scars tend to act up at the most unfitting of times. It's been years since their injury, but their body doesn't care. The scars don't care because despite the dead skin, they feel very much painful.

Whumpee massages their knee as good as they can, trying to release some of the tension in their muscles and it works to some extent. As the meeting is over, whumpee waits until the others are out of the room, knowing fully well that caretaker won't leave until they do. But it doesn't feel as bad as walking in front of everybody else.

"New injury?", caretaker suddenly asks and whumpee shakes their head as they keep massaging their leg with their thumbs.

"The cold weather is getting to me," they mutter and look up with a shrug and half a smile.

"Need a hand when going downstairs?"

Whumpee waits for a few seconds and nods. Old or new injuries, it doesn't matter. Caretaker will always be on their side.

[mbrainspaz]

I only have three scars and they're all stupid. A dime sized mark on my bicep from when my horse bit me the day after I bought him, some lines on my wrist from where a disabled neighbor's chihuahua clawed me while I was trying to catch it and return it to her, and one on my right shin from the time I dropped a cinderblock on my leg in Mexico.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #989

The team realising A has pushed themselves too far when old injuries begin to bite A in the ass (A is very bad at hiding this) - Perhaps they develop a limp on their bad leg/ankle/foot - Maybe they become short of breath - Maybe they loose dexterity in their hands - Maybe they have a horrendous headache that will not budge with any over the counter medication.

[cannedpeachess]

Hey so like real quick does anyone else have that recurring thing where you move in a totally normal way but then your back says “Fuck ALL OF THAT SHIT, and fuck YOU in particular,” and then your spinal column magically transforms into a ramshackle stack of loose shale and used hypodermic needles?????

Asking for a friend

[fletcherwilbury]

@whumpuary Day 11: Old Injuries

Warning for Physical abuse, bruises, broken bones, overworking, exhaustion

[snaillamp]

Old Scars - Part 2

Whumper opened the cell door. “Ahh I see little leader has finally gone night night. Now… it’s your turn new kid.” They ended flatly.

Whumper looked terrible. They had cuts and bruises all over their face, an egg sized lump was forming on their forehead and one eye was black and swollen shut.  “Or should I take advantage of the circumstances?” Whumper looks at Leader, a wicked smile snaking across their face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to fight them on equal ground, this is a bit fairer don’t you think?” Whumper nudges Leader’s shoulder with their foot. Leader’s body remains limp. “Touch Leader again and you’re dead.” Newbie growls. “Funny, that’s the same thing they said. I can see you’ve been learning from them. Let’s see if you can learn any lessons from me?”

Newbie lashes out as Whumper attacks back with frightening force. They both managed to get in a few good blows, but Newbie found themselves dodging attack after attack, growing weaker. Their vision blurs and their limbs feel like lead, as both of them take a step back to give their burning lungs a break. Whumper and Newbie lean on opposite walls, staring each other down as they catch their breath with protesting lungs. Newbie sees a second too late, Whumper lunging at them. Before Newbie can even react, Whumper is on top of them, pounding their face in with their fists. Whumper pulls out a small knife from their belt and holds it up to strike.

Newbie, with their last surge of life saving adrenaline somehow manages to wiggle out of Whumper’s grip and wrestle the knife away from them. They kick it across the cell towards the unconscious Leader and scramble away from Whumper, who is pushing themself up from the floor. With a yell, Whumper lunges at Newbie, but the yell is cut short- with a strangled gurgle. Whumper’s mouth opens and shuts like a fish, as a trail of blood dribbles from their mouth. They fall to their knees and face plant into the floor, knife sticking out of their neck.

Above them is a swaying Leader, hunched over and shaking. They look at Newbie, who stumbles over to catch them with tired eyes. Leaning on each other they make their way out of the cell and hear fighting down the hall.  The team must have managed to find Whumper’s dungeon. The familiar yells of their team make Newbie’s heart fill with ecstasy, as they drag Leader, who is fighting to stay conscious towards the sounds. Occasionally Leader looks back, and mumbles something in slurred speech about getting out faster or that Whumper is coming.

They finally reach their team and yell out to them. As the medic rushes over, Newbie feels as Leader lets out a tiny, strained grunt and pushes against their back to stand. “No.. look at Leader, I’m fine. Just a little beat up that’s all.” Newbie insists. Letting go of Leader, they lean against a wall and slide down it. The cold bricks feel nice on their throbbing head. Their body relaxes as they start to fully accept they are safe.

part 1 | part 3