#prompt: concussion

[serickswrites]

Wham!

Warnings: head injury, concussion, unconsciousness, confusion, disorientation, field medicine

The sounds Team Leader didn't make any sense. Nothing made a lot of sense. Their eyelids were too heavy to lift. Their head hurt like nothing before and they felt like they couldn't move.

A cacophony of sounds filtered into their awareness. People were yelling. There was the sound of fighting around them. And there was a voice gently speaking to them. They knew that voice.

"Smallest Teammate," Team Leader croaked as they finally opened their eyes.

"There you are, Team Leader," Smallest Teammate said with a smile that didn't quite reach their eyes.

"Wha?" Team Leader asked, trying to sit up. The world spun around them and tilted on its side. Team Leader screwed their eyes shut tight as a wave of nausea filled them.

"I think you should just lie here a while, Team Leader. It's good you're awake. I...I was worried you weren't going to wake up."

Smallest Teammate's words didn't make sense. Why wouldn't they wake up? How long were they out for? None of the words Team Leader tried to form came out. Everything was fuzzy and didn't make sense.

"Team Leader," Smallest Teammate said more urgently, "I need you to stay awake. It's a good sign you're awake. Keep awake, Team Leader. Help is on the way. I've wrapped your head wound where Whumper bashed it, but I don't know how bad your concussion is. You need to stay awake, Team Leader. Can you do that for me?"

Whumper bashed their head? When did that happen. As hard as Team Leader tried to remember, they couldn't. They nodded. They could stay awake for Smallest Teammate. Anything to make Smallest Teammate worry less.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat @artisticdemon

[perpetualdrafts]

concussion symptoms for your fic from someone currently concussed

(disclaimer: i am concussed but mildly so llike idk research more before giving your character a brain bleed, i am not a medical professional)

the headache - omg the headache. my head has hurt constantly since hitting it (3? days ago?) weirdly not sticking around where i hit it, it moves a fair bit. it's wacky.

nausea. comes and goes. throwing up is symptom of a badd concussion, but nausea is bad. whenever i stand up too long. yay.

uhh

light headedness, again, comes and goes. room spins when i stand up.

confusion. i didnt really notice this but my friends say it's like im on power-saving mode. struggling to focus for more than five minutes on anything - especially screens and reading.

light sensitivity. especially screens. typing this on the lowest brightness possible. it's not constant, but it kicks in randomly and boy does it hurt.

some other small things: no sense of time passing, forgetfulness, struggling to focus, just generally seeming and feeling off

[whumpbug]

this is probably an overdone trope but a personal fave of mine: whumpees with concussions

whether it’s from an explosion/accident or just a plain ol bonk on the kitchen counter. they’re my JAM

when the whumpee wakes up they’re confused and nauseous and disoriented and out of it. they’re not quite sure where they are or what happened but they do know there are gentle hands guiding them to sitting and muffled voices speaking to them

when the whumpee can’t vocalize anything except for ‘’my head hurts” because it does and they feel the unexplainable urge to tell the people around them that, maybe in hopes that someone will do something to ease the pain

whumpee being so exhausted but they aren’t allowed to sleep because it’s dangerous until they can get proper medical attention so caretaker (very reluctantly) has to keep resorting to increasingly uncomfortable ways to keep them awake (ex: slapping, pinching, shouting, shaking), which leaves whumpee whimpering and crying softly

when whumpee finally does get to sleep, it isn’t even that restful because caretaker has to wake them up every four hours and when they do they are greeted with the pitiful whines and groans of whumpees who just wants to rest

feel free to add to this (please do actually) but this has been in my brain and i needed desperately to share it with u all ദ്ദി´▽`)

[chaotic-orphan]

Concussed villain gets kidnapped?

Villain showed up on Hero’s doorstep, heaving in breaths as they slammed their fist on the door. Their arm was ridiculously heavy, and it took everything in them to throw it mercilessly against the wooden door. The effects were meagre knocks that Villain prayed Hero would hear.

If Hero was even home.

What if they were working tonight? Fuck, why didn’t Villain think of that? Their head was pounding so they rested their forehead against the cool wood, letting out a shaky, shallow breath, trying not to anger the fire in their ribs. Blood continued to trickle from their hairline down over their eyes and dripping onto their cheeks.

That wasn’t good.

They heard footsteps behind the door and Villain almost broke down there and then, relief flooding them like a tsunami of feeling, washing away everything that was keeping Villain upright. Tears poured down their cheeks at the thought of safety, hero looking after them… their hero. They could tell them about Superhero’s plans.

They could tell them… Villain put a hand against the door and pushed themselves backwards. They would’ve fallen if not for the arm that snaked around their waist. Villain blinked dumbly and glanced down. Arm around—?

Before they cry out or scream in warning a hand clamped over their mouth and Villain was ripped away from the door and into the shadows. Villain thrashed, struggling in their attacker’s grip, all their screams and cries muffled to nothing but silent pleas.

The door opened and Villain’s struggles renewed but Hero wouldn’t be able to see them from here. Hero wouldn’t know they were even there!

“Hello?” Hero asked into the darkness and Villain whimpered against the hands holding them in an iron cage. Villain threw their body forward, back, trying to dislodge their attackers arms but they didn’t budge even a little.

“If you want Hero to continue to draw breath, Villain, you’ll come quietly.”

Villain froze at the voice. That was… Superhero… the reason why Villain was in this state in the first place. Villain’s struggles renewed as Hero stepped out of their house. If they could even sense something was amiss so close to them then they would investigate. Hero would have to investigate, right? And Hero was in danger too!

Villain had to warn them, they had to!

“Hello?” Hero asked, a note of agitation creeping into their voice.

I’m here! Villain wanted to scream. Hero please! I’m right here.

A pinch in their neck and Villain’s fruitless struggles seized, their blood running cold. They flinched as cold liquid was pushed into their neck. No… no, no, no, no. “That’s it, Villain,” Superhero whispered. “Don’t fight it.”

The hazy world blurred even more and Villain fell back against Superhero’s chest, the fight leaving them almost instantly. What did Superhero drug them with?

Their eyelids shut and Villain forced them back open, with a gargantuan effort. The last thing they saw was Hero frown and close the door before their entire world faded to black in the arms of their enemy.

[luxaofhesperides]

Accidental Bride Sacrifice ; requested by @starlightcat04!

Danny has long since gotten used to the feel of summonings. They don’t happen often, but sometimes the right components are put together to force him into answering, and he’d have to go as the new Ghost King.

Which no one told him was a thing! He hadn’t protested too much about the whole Ghost King deal when they finally told him about it after he graduated high school. It gave him a good excuse to ditch life in the living realm and not worry about college or a career, and let him really embrace his ghost side. 

The summonings are a problem, though. They always feel staticky and bad, like a dumpster that just got struck by lightning. The taste of iron on his tongue, a clear sign of blood being spilled, lets him know that it would be one of end the world for us summonings, because some people can’t put in the effort to do it themselves, apparently. 

But this time, the summoning feels different.

Danny pauses, eyes going unfocused in the middle of his conversation with Jazz. He had been looking forward to spending the week with her, now that she’s on winter break, but his luck is as bad as always.

“I’m being summoned,” he tells her, cutting off her rant about a transphobic professor she had. 

“Oh, no. Do you need me to do anything? Should I go with you to beat up whoever it is that’s summoning you?”

Danny tilts his head to the side, considering. The taste of blood is noticeably absent. In fact, this summoning pull doesn’t make him feel sick at all. It makes him feel warm, as if he’s just been wrapped in a hug.

“No,” he says. “I think I’m good. This one feels different.”

“A good different?” Jazz asks, worry clear in her voice.

“Yeah. A good different. I’ll come back soon, okay?”

“Alright. Be careful, Danny.” Jazz pulls him into a quick hug, then steps back to watch as Danny stops fighting the pull of the summoning and disappears into a swirling white rings that flashes into existence behind him, blinding her for a moment, and is gone when she manages to blink the spots out of her vision. 

For a minute, Danny drifts in a void of stillness, traveling through the realms as the summoning draws him closer to the correct realm. And then he’s rising out of the ground in a dark building made of concrete, candles of green flame scattered all over the place.

“Great One!” someone in a hooded cloak cries, raising his arms in jubilation. “Our calls have been answered!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” a mechanical voice yells from farther back. When Danny looks past the cultists’ heads, he spots a man in a red hood and leather jacket chained to a pole, along with a bunch of other people in strange costumes tied up, desperately trying to free themselves. 

“Silence!” The leader of the cult, or who Danny assumes is the leader, snaps at the hooded man and gestures to the people off to his left. They force another costumed person forward, this one in yellow armor. He can see the blood running down their face from beneath their helmet and from their nose, dark lines of blood cutting through their brown skin. 

The cultists throw the armored person forward, forcing them to kneel. Then they bow to Danny and step back.

“Great One,” the leader says, voice unpleasantly reverent and grating, “Welcome to the mortal realms. We offer you this sacrifice to feed your strength. He will make a fine general for your undead army in your crusade to rid this world of its filth.”

The people in the back begin shouting all together, panicked voices overlapping, and Danny is left staring down at the cultists in shock.

The summoning had felt so nice. What the hell was this? He did not sign up for another ‘end of days’ insane cult. He just wanted to be hugged. 

His silence makes the cultists nervous. They begin to shift uneasily, whispering to each other, and the leader clears his throat, then pulls a large crystal dagger out of his cloak. “We shall prove our devotion to you through an offering of a hero’s blood!”

And then he moves towards the sacrifice and Danny snaps out of his shock to yell, “Wait!”

The entire room freezes. Even the costumed people in the back go still. 

Danny winces, then tries to smother his power, make himself more palatable to the humans of this dimension. “Wait,” he says again, and he sounds closer to human now. If he could, he would drop his ghost form entirely, but he knows better than to endanger himself like that. “What, exactly, did you summon me here for?”

The cult leader stares at him for a moment. “To… To rid the world of filth and allow your loyal followers to spread word of your power. You will be worshiped again, Great One, and serve as a reminder to man that Death shall always prevail.”

“Okay, I get that, but I was talking more along the lines of the summoning. What ritual did you use? What specifically were the summoning requirements?”

Normally, he’d be able to figure it out himself, but these cultists didn’t use a summoning circle. So they did something else, something less visible and therefore harder to figure out, in order to bring him here.

A woman standing off to the side speaks up, stepping forward hesitantly. “I had pieced together a few summoning spells from this book to bring you here. You had to accept our chosen sacrifice to your side in order for the summoning to work.”

“Hold up that book for me, please?”

She does, and Danny flies down to grab it from her hands. “Point out which lines you used,” he says, already reading a few of the words written down. It’s definitely ghostspeak written down, which should be near impossible for living humans to translate without being skilled in magic.

“Ah, these ones.” She points to each line, reading them out for him, and Danny starts understand what, exactly, went wrong.

“Is there a problem, Great One?”

Danny returns the book then floats over to the sacrifice and picks him up. The costumed people make alarmed noises, but quietly quiet down again when all Danny does is move him away from the cultists.

“Okay,” he says, “So. The lines you used to summon me were not translated properly. What you interpreted as ‘accepted to stay by the king’s side in loyalty and strength’ is not meant to be, like, him being part of my undead army or whatever. It’s a royal marriage vow.”

“They married us?” the sacrifice shouts, disbelieving. The cult leader buries his face in his hands and sighs.

“My deepest apologies, Great One. We meant no offense. We simply wanted to aid in your destruction of this depraved world.”

Danny scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me. I do not do the biding of random people, especially those who are ready to murder innocent people for no reason. Frighty, if you would.” He snaps his fingers, calling up Fright Knight who always enjoys getting to torment the people who summon Danny for murderous reasons.

Fright Knight appears in a swirl of darkness and screams. Shadows swallow the room, and when they recede, no cultists remain.

“Thanks, Frighty. Have fun with them. I need to figure out all… this.”

Fright Knight bows to him, then disappears. Danny lets out a breath, then floats down lower to be eye level with the sacrifice. “Hey,” he says gently, with a smile, “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m Danny. What’s your name?”

“Du— Uh, Signal,” the sacrifice says, sounding rather dazed. 

“Signal,” Danny repeats. “Like… a traffic signal?”

“No. I mean, maybe? But it is Signal. That’s my hero name, not my real name.”

“Oh, you’re a hero!” His getup makes more sense now. Danny checks him over for any signs of injuries. So far, only his head and nose seem to be injured, but his wrists are tightly bound behind his back. Carefully, Danny calls upon his ice and shapes it into a sharp knife, then cuts through the zipties.

He helps Signal up to his feet, floating by his shoulder. “All good?”

“Yeah, man, all good. Let me just get the others free.”

“Oh, I can do it!” Danny flies over to the other costumed people, who must also be heroes. All it takes is one link in the chain being frozen and broken for the entire thing to go lax, allowing them to free themselves. Hooded guy spares Danny a single glance, then hurries over to Signal to check on him. The other three, a man with a blue bird across his chest, a blond girl with a yellow bat outline on her chest, and a guy with bandoliers and a golden bird emblem, all watch him warily as he floats back towards the center of the room.

“So,” the blue bird man says, “If they summoned you with a marriage vow, and you accepted, does that mean you’re planning to steal Signal away from us?” He’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile.

“No! I had no idea they did this! I am so sorry you all got caught up in this. You most of all, Signal.”

Signal shrugs, nudging hood guy away from him. “Nah, man, it’s all good. This is definitely the better outcome.”

“I don’t know, being married off isn’t really a good thing.”

“Hey, at least they married me off to a decent guy.”

“You don’t know that,” Danny says, “What if I’m secretly evil?”

“If you were secretly evil, you’d be destroying the world right now. I think you’re fine.”

The blond girl waves at him, demanding his attention. “Quick question! They were calling you ‘Great One’. Are you a god or something?”

“Not really? I’m the Ghost King. So I’m a ghost who rules over other ghosts and also a majority of the Infinite Realms.”

She nods as if this is all totally normal for her, then shoots Signal a grin. “Congrats on bagging a king! Not the worst way to spend a night, right?”

“Can you break the marriage?” blue bird man asks, the lines of his shoulders tense.

Danny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, not looking any of them in the eye. “I honestly don’t know. I can look for a way! But I genuinely have no clue. This was unexpected.”

“But you accepted.”

“I didn’t know what I expected! It just felt like a hug, and I wanted a hug! I thought I was being summoned for something nice for once!” Danny curls up, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hides his pout behind his hands. He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help but be upset that he couldn’t have this one good experience from being Ghost King. 

It’s always responsibilities and death cult summonings and fighting ghosts who don’t think he should be king. Sure there have been some good things, but they’re comparatively few when looking at all the other stress and pain that comes with the crown. Sue him for wanting to have a nice night for once. Hell, at this point, he’d take being summoned to help with some kid’s homework, because at least then he could have a quiet night helping someone.

“Hey, man, can you come down here?” Signal asks. 

He wants to stay out of reach, hiding himself away for a bit longer, but Signal is his new, surprise, accidental husband, so Danny lowers himself to the ground and peeks through his fingers to look at him.

He tenses when Signal hugs him, soft and warm and comforting. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on, and then he’s melting into Signal’s embrace, dropping his hands to wrap them around Signal’s back.

Distantly, he can hear the other heroes talking quietly amongst themselves. He blocks out the sound as much as he can, determined to enjoy this hug while it lasts.

Which is… fairly long. Signal makes no moves to end the hug, so Danny closes his eyes to really savor the moment. 

“So,” Signal murmurs into his ear, “As newlyweds, how about we get to know each other a bit better before we start working on fixing all this?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s ditch these guys and take some time to ourselves.”

“I promise I’ll get this fixed,” he says, just to make sure Signal knows. “Genuinely, I am so sorry to have married you through an old Realms vow when you had no say in it.”

“Hey, if it lands me a very nice, very attractive king, then I don’t mind at all. I could have done without the murderous cultists, though.”

Danny huffs out a small laugh. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for being so cool about this. Want me to fly us out of here?”

“Yes please,” Signal says. Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Signal, then lifts them both up. “I’ll see y’all later! Have fun with the rest of your patrols!” he calls out to the other heroes, who start shouting at him.

Danny flies them right out the roof before the other heroes figure out a way to kick his ass. The city they’re in is smoggy and dark, tall buildings rising up into the cloudy sky, and police sirens ring through the air. There’s no where that looks like a particularly nice spot to land for a conversation, so he asks Signal where he’d like to go and follows his directions from there.

They end up phasing through a building, then into the floor, which leaves them in what Signal calls The Hatch. 

Danny takes a quick moment to freak out over being in a hero’s secret hide out, the composes himself and finally pulls away from Signal.

“So,” he starts, looking around The Hatch and taking in the giant computer, the workstation, the motorcycle farther down the way, “What did you—Woah!” Danny spins around, slamming a hand over his eyes the instant he realizes that Signal is taking off his helmet, leaving his face bare.

It’s not like he’d know who Signal is anyways, being from a different dimension, but it’s the principle of the matter.

Signal laughs when he sees Danny’s attempt to keep from looking at him. A warm hand wraps around his wrist and gently pulls it away. “It’s okay, Danny, you can look,” he says. “It would be pretty weird if my own husband didn’t know my face.”

Slowly, giving Signal to change his mind, Danny opens his eyes. He moves his gaze up, going from Signal’s armor to his face, his very cute face and his warm brown eyes, and Danny stares for a moment. 

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Signal says, fondness coloring his voice. “My name’s Duke. Are all Ghost Kings as cute as you?”

“Duke,” Danny repeats. “Hi. Um, no. The last one really sucked, actually, which is why I fought him. He was so bad the Infinite Realms didn’t want him anymore, so though I technically didn’t beat him in single combat, it was enough for the Infinite Realms to kick him out and get me on the throne.”

“Man, I can not wait to hear more of your stories. Think we got time for that while we search for a way to undo that marriage vow?”

Taking his chance, Danny says, “Sure! It’s a date.”

He’s awarded by Duke’s bright smile and idly wonders how long he can keep them married. Hopefully long enough for them to get into a real relationship where he can propose properly. And then he can get Jazz’s blessing too—

“Oh shit,” Danny realizes. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell my sister or she’s going to actually kill me.”

Duke winces. “And I should probably tell the others before Spoiler makes a mess of things… B is not going to be happy with me.”

They share a despairing look, already dreading the amount of scoldings they’re both going to get. He’s not looking forward to it.

“...Put it off until tomorrow?”

Duke nods. “Yeah. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, how about a late dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 118

Everyone is freaking out. The titan tower was broken into, no signs of who it was, and Tim- Robin- is missing. There’s blood on the walls, taunting them, implying that Tim is going through agony, and they can’t deal with another dead Robin, they can’t- 

Meanwhile Tim is bemused, maybe a little concussed because that would explain things maybe, as he’s found himself in a living room full of books and there’s a pair of kids too? One is straight up adoption bait- wait no there’s three, with two of them being adoption bait and the third being a redhead. There’s a trio of small children there already playing by the couch he’s been bundled into. 

Where the heck is his mask- or his bo staff or any of his supplies- is that the fucking Red Hood?! No, couldn’t be, must be the concussion, because why would the Red Hood be feeding him a bowl of soup?

[evilminji]

You know what? I just had A Thought(tm)~☆

Danny. Our bby boy. MINDING HIS BUSINESS. Maybe visiting one of his buddies in the Realms after he graduates. When he just?? Get full on tackled from the sky.

And like?

Huh.

THIS hasn't happened in a bit. Not since he's become king. Legit, no one dares. He's honestly kinda missed it. Alright, square up... Mr. Uuuuuh.... Who are you?

And it's this barely formed New Ghost. Still in that glitch-y goopy blob phase and everything. Is Baby. Why... why does this infant Want To Fight God? I mean. He Respects It(tm), no lie, but? Not exactly usual for him?

And it turns out? This dude is some rando hero. He basicly JUST died. By all rights SHOULD be resting and gathering his strength to Form Right. But he's so worried for his team mates and everyone else he CAN'T. Recognized a fellow Hero's Costume even at a distance.

Please. PLEASE! You have to help him! We have to WARN everybody!

And Danny is just? Oh no. This Actual Infant Baby is gonna Anxiety himself to Actual Second Death at this rate. Yes! Sure! Just CALM DOWN! Anything you need buddy! BREATHE.

And this dude? Who died? Is legit a minor player who got WAY too deep but refused to abandoned People In Need(tm). It happens. It HURTS. But he saved a LOT of lives before he went down. Him and his team were just some Minor Heros from Belarus. How they ended up in deep space? Even THEY couldn't tell you.

They couldn't even bring him home.

He forgives them.

He could NEVER blame his friends. Not for this. The planet is in danger. Some... some THING. An invasion. The League has to be made aware. He DIED helping a planet try to evacuate all that they could. He... at least he...

He can't remember if the Eggs got out. They... they're like babies. A whole room full of toddlers who couldn't run. They had to de-connect from the main building to lift it out. He can't... can't...

He saved them... right? Held on.. long enough? Why can't he.. he...

Danny has to make him focus be for the kid spirals. Don't think of your last moments. Purpose. You NEED to do something right now, right?

Right! The League! We gotta warn them! And... okay. Danny can totally do that. (What LEAGUE??!) He DEFINITELY knows who you are talking about and will tell them Right Away. YOU however are gonna rest up.

So he leaves the kiddo with Lunch Lady. Mother and Frightening Matriarch Extraordinaire. Lunch Box promises to SIT on him if he tries to sneak off. Good kid. Now eat your soup before you BECOME soup.

Time to bully the eyeballs. Whoms't the F*ck is this "league"? And where does he find it? Talk. He has sand and he's not afraid to use it. Don't MAKE him get out the pepper grinder! Yeah. That's what he THOUGHT.

After much, prolonged and unnecessary, whining and dramatic threatening... he gets a printed out map. Cheapskates even used flimsy paper. He gets there. Jaunt is even kinda nice. He says hi to a few folks he hasn't seen in a while.

Opens a portal.

Steps out.

Gets punched in the face. RUDE! He punches the flying blue man back. Dents their wall. Not even a LITTLE sorry about that now! See if HE does you a favor aga-... is that his Ex? John?

John! Constantine you B@STARD. YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS. *Ten different hands slap a twenty on the table at his feet, including Constantine. Who is refusing to look at anybody.* Well, okay then. Debt payed. Gonna buy himself a shake or something, after this.

ANYWAY~ Good News Or Bad News?

He is met with silence. It's like they've never seen an ethereal, giant, glowing man with a suit that looks like a cut out of the night sky, step out of an eye searing rip in reality before. Man they're lives must be boring. But frankly? Danny can wait. It's not HIS reality that's gonna get messed up. He can take care of it if the wanna be Wah Babies. Good News or Bad News??? Pick one.

He sits back in the air and waits.

@stealingyourbones @cyrwrites

[lumpywhump]

y'all today I was walking out in public and my legs almost just collapsed under me. And I like wasn't sudden but like my legs just slowly just kinda stopped responding. It's freaky. Anyways! Let that happen to your whumpee! Have your whumpee doing something quick and last minute and their legs kinda just stop working! Have your whumpee running away from whumper and let their legs fall out from under them and they can't get back up! Have your whumpee try to ignore the feeling and end up getting a concussion when their legs stop! Big old bonk!

[hy-whump-hei]

BLOW TO THE HEAD: Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

CW: Interrogation, head wounds, slurred words, concussions

Whumper loves to use their most reliable interrogation method on a particularly stubborn Whumpee. Everytime Whumpee gives them a "wrong" answer to their question, they slam their head down into the cold interrogation table. How many questions can Whumpee get through before they start seeing stars?

"Whumpee, for the love of god, do not try and bullshit me with that "I'm fine" business again!" "But... 've gotta..." "You literally can't even form a proper sentence!"

A concussed Whumpee that is forced to stay awake for their own good by Caretaker. Their ears are ringing and their hair feels sticky with blood and Caretaker keeps asking them confusing questions that they just can't focus on and all they want to do is go to sleep.

How did Whumpee get a concussion in the first place? Were they pistol-whipped? Were they hit with the hilt of a sword? Were they given a drug that caused symptoms of a concussion? Were they given a knockout punch to the jaw?

see y'all tomorrow for day 11!! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

[serickswrites]

Slurred

Warnings: concussion, head injury, migraine, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

"Whumpee, how are you feeling? I think you should eat something. Or at least drink something," Caretaker said gently as they came into Whumpee's room to check on them. They had diligently come in to check on Whumpee very two hours as the doctor had ordered. Though their concussion was mild, it was still cause for concern.

"Mmmmmm," Whumpee groaned from beneath the blanket. "DDDDDDDon't-t-t-t-t wwwwwantttttt t-t-t-o."

Caretaker tried to breathe through the worry and concern as they listened to Whumpee's slurred words. The doctor had reassured Caretaker that was a part of the concussion and should heal in a few days. Still, hearing Whumpee, the person who was so articulate and precise with their words, struggle to speak was scary.

"You need to. I can give you another pain pill if you eat something."

With a groan, Whumpee slowly threw back the covers. "OWWWWWW," they shouted, retreating once more beneath the blanket. "BBBBBrighttttt."

"Whumpee' the lights are off in here. The only light is from the window."

"Br'ttttt," Whumpee's muffled voice came from beneath the blankets.

Caretaker carefully closed the curtains. Maybe they needed to treat the concussion more like a migraine. "Do you have a migraine?"

"Mhmmmmm," Whumpee hummed.

Caretaker sighed. "Let me get you your meds. But you need to drink all the water over on the nightstand. I'll bring you your sunglasses, too."

"Th'ks," Whumpee mumbled.

"You're welcome, Whumpee. Let me get those. Drink your water and I'll be right back."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon

[marlynnofmany]

When someone says "what if life was a video game, and you had to save each day to remember yesterday," a writer has the choice of whether to make that into a dark story about memory troubles, or a cheerful isekai with manual time loops.

I'm sure no one is surprised which direction I went.

[stardreamerl0ve]

a rudimentary lye

rating: t chapters: 1/1 words: 3081 warnings: no archive warnings apply relationship: sandra fischer/hugo mertens/bartender | player character/peter wagner characters: sandra fischer, hugo mertens, bartender | player character, peter wagner additional tags: they don’t know what they are to each other but they sure are something, hurt/comfort, angst, more comfort this time, bruises, whump, or. started as whump devolved into talking about feelings, this is because sandra fischer is a woman with perfectly normal and not at all complicated relationships, bad things happen bingo

summary: On the other side of the threshold, the bartender stumbles under the weight of Peter, half-conscious and eyes fluttering, with a crease between his eyebrows that looks like it might be pain.

Sandra gets a pair of visitors in the middle of the night, and proceeds to try and deal with it as well as she can. It's not the first time she's been in this position—but it turns out that doesn't make it any easier.

[3-2-whump]

Beta Reader Holiday Gift Fic

My beta readers and I did a cute little informal gift exchange to mark the season, where we gave each other fic prompts and let the writers go wild. Here is the one I did for @generic-whumperz

Just One Foot in Front of the Other

Prompt: Environmental Whump

Characters: Khaled and Thomas

TW/CW: environmental whump, concussion/head injury whump, hiding an injury, treating your own injury, blood, slave whump, intimate whumper, referenced past noncon (under the cut, easily skippable)

No beta we die like Thomas Costa

It was 2:00 AM, and it was snowing. Khaled hunched over himself and drew his jacket closer as he walked head-on into the next gust of frigid winter wind. Julio had expressed concern about him going home so late in a blizzard. He said it would be better to stay the night at the garage and face the consequences tomorrow, and he even offered to pretend it was a kidnapping that delayed him that evening and not his own stupid workaholic drive. But Khaled refused, left Julio at the entrance of the garage with a kiss on the cheek, and regretted that decision for the next several blocks he walked by himself.

He could’ve cried tears of joy as he saw the mirror-like glassy planes of his master’s apartment building. In his excitement and desperation to get away from the cold, he began to walk faster, then to jog, then to run to the door, far too eager to get back home than he was to watch his footing until it was too late.

There was an alarming lack of friction in his next step as Khaled’s shoe slid against the solid patch of ice beneath the snow, tipping him forwards and sending him hurtling face-first toward the concrete steps leading up to the entrance. He braced his arms in front of himself, and just barely broke his fall as he tumbled down onto the steps, but not without catching the side of his head on the metal hand rail halfway down. He let out a loud gasp of pain as he crumpled onto the steps, their concrete edges bruising his ribcage. Instinctually, he settled onto his side (the side he didn’t land on) and brought his hands around his body. He curled in on himself, whisper-shouting every curse and expletive his father taught him while he breathed through the pain.

The snow continued to fall indifferently around him. Khaled’s breaths sent puffs of steam into the air, wispy and labored, and then gone within seconds as they dissipated into the cold winter air. I gotta get up, he told himself, no matter how much he doubted he could. I’m almost home, I can be in pain when I’m home. Come on. With a labored grunt, he pushed himself off his side into a sitting position on the steps, then a standing position. The world swayed as he stood wobbly on the steps, and he tried his best to ignore the pounding, throbbing sensation in his brain, or the familiar warm, wet liquid trailing down the top of his head. Like a newborn deer learning how to walk, he staggered to the door, fumbled for Thomas’ (borrowed) keycard in his pockets, pressed it clumsily against the reader, and let himself into the unlocked door.

He dragged himself through the darkened lobby, not concerned about anyone seeing him because the doorman had left hours ago. He punched the buttons to the elevator, climbed into the first one that dinged, and, once he punched in where he wanted to go, slumped against the walls of the artificially lit space.

Khaled used the elevator ride to assess his injuries. Head hurts, scalp bleeding, right ribs will probably bruise, head hurts… wait, I just said that. Is this another concussion? Khaled thought about it, as much as he could without triggering his throbbing headache, eventually concluding that yes, it was more than likely he concussed himself out there when he cracked his head against the railing.

The elevator gently rolled to a stop, dinging as the door swooshed open to Khaled’s final destination. He gulped. It’s just one foot in front of the other, he repeated in his head as he swayed out of the elevator and down the hall to the door to the penthouse. He leaned against the door and fumbled with the keys, slowly unlocking the door and entering as quietly as he could once he’d found the right one. He looked all around the dark and quiet space. There was no light underneath his master’s bedroom door. He sighed with relief as he kicked his shoes off, threw the keys and the keycard onto the granite kitchen countertop, and hung up his jacket. It looked like he got away with sneaking out this time.

The bathroom light was too bright, and the bathroom fan was too loud, but both were necessary for him to take a shower and treat his injuries. Khaled stripped his clothes off and chucked them in the hamper. He winced a little as the hem of his shirt bristled against the newly forming scabs on his head. Next, he grabbed a cotton ball, wetted it with some warm tap water, and dabbed it gently over his face, working from his chin up to the source of the blood, just above his hairline. “Ah!” The cut was small, but tender to touch, and the warm water stung against the open wound. He brought up his free hand up and clasped it over his mouth as he continued to clean the wound. A few bloody cotton balls later, he deemed it clean enough and walked over to turn on the shower. I won’t bother to wash my hair, because it’ll hurt too much to shampoo around that cut, he reasoned. As the warm water soothed his body and washed away the smell of the auto shop, Khaled relaxed inch by inch, from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. He reached for a black bar of soap, an expensive chunk of a thing that his master bought for him and insisted he use for his (inexistent) acne. A rising feeling of frustration built in him as he struggled to get a hold of the damn thing. If I can’t even pick up a bar of soap, how am I going to hide this injury from Master?  he asked himself.

He finally got it, gripping its silky-smooth surface between his fingernails. Tiny curls of soap began gathering under his nails as he picked it up from its stand. I guess that’s a problem for tomorrow me, he thought, sighing to himself.

The boy had been acting strange, Thomas noticed the next day. He violently recoiled against the full brightness of the bedroom lights as the man turned them on to wake him up that morning. He moved slowly and slightly swayed as he walked out to the kitchen to eat breakfast, and he gingerly brought his hands up to his head and groaned like the undead. This concerning combination of symptoms puzzled Thomas even more as he couldn’t smell so much as a whiff of alcohol off Khaled, nor on his pajamas or his clothes he wore yesterday.

“I swear I’m not drunk, Master,” Khaled groaned as he caught Thomas red-handed, stooped over the hamper in Khaled’s bathroom with his shirt up to his nose.

“Well if you’re not drunk, what the hell is wrong with you?” he asked. “My god, you’re so out of it, do you even know what day it is?”

Khaled furrowed his brows as he sucked in his bottom lip, face screwed up in thought, although Thomas doubted there was much going on inside that head. “Which question should I answer first?”

What otherwise would’ve been a smartass question was asked genuinely, like Khaled was truly lost, so Thomas gave him the benefit of the doubt and answered. “Tell me what day it is.”

“…Tuesday, Master?”

My god, he’s off by three days! Thomas pinched the space between his brows and sighed in frustration. The last time the boy was this bad with dates was when he was brought back home from a previous escape attempt, shivering from hypothermia and slightly concussed from the bosses’ underlings’ rough treatment. All the symptoms were lining up, it had to be that again.

He thought back to the last time they’d fucked, how he’d pushed Khaled against the granite countertop in the kitchen, lifted his naked ass on top of it, and pushed his head into the stone surface as pounded him brutally. Did he hurt the boy’s head while he was manhandling him? He wasn’t really paying attention to anything from the waist-up at the time, so what if this concussion was somehow his fault?

“Remind me not to hit you so hard around the head next time we play rough,” he told him. “I know I didn’t buy you for your brains, but I don’t want a completely vapid cock sleeve either!”

Khaled swayed a little, but disguised it as leaning on the door frame of the bathroom. “Are you trying to say you care about me, Master?” he asked with a smile.

“I care a perfectly reasonable amount for a $150,000 slave!” Thomas answered, turning his head back to the emptied hamper of clothes to hide his own smile. “There’s a bottle of Tylenol in my bathroom behind the mirror, just above the sink. Go get that, take two capsules, and drink some water. Now, shoo,” he said, waving the boy off with his hand. “I’ll put your clothes back.”

“Thank you, Master,” Khaled murmured as he peeled himself off the door frame.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz

@bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@defire @phoenixpromptsandstuff @scumashling

[slippedtheknot]

Whumpee Was Terrified

Part one

Whumpee kept his head up as he looked for his cat, Roxy. There was no way that he would simply abandon his cat when she'd been there for him.

Caretaker could do whatever he wanted.

The walking path Whumpee was on led him into the forest, and he figured that if Roxy was scared enough, she'd go anywhere.

The forest was dense, and all the leaves around him shook in the storm. The only source of light came from Whumpee's phone flashlight as he scanned the forest floor. Water glistened on the grass beneath his feet as Whumpee walked along.

In all honesty, Whumpee was terrified. He'd always had a fear of the dark, and being in a forest during a storm wasn't helping.

With shaky hands, Whumpee pulled out a bag of Roxy's favorite treats and shook them. Having no response, Whumpee kept on walking while shaking the bag and calling for his cat, only stopping when he had to steady himself on a tree.

Whumpee's coordination grew worse with each step, and every now and then he'd look back forgetting why he was there.

Whumpee came to a halt when he got to the river, and analyzed the best way to get over. He hesitantly put his foot on a mossy rock, and just as he was lifting his other foot to join, he lost balance and his whole world went black.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

hi! idk if you do prompts but do you have any whump ideas relating to concussions? xx <3

❝ symptoms of concussion may include headache, confusion, lack of coordination, memory loss, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, ringing in the ears, sleepiness, excessive fatigue. ❞

👆🏻 all of these symptoms are very delicious whump prompts imo.

below is what I could come up with:

whumpee is suffering from a severe disorientation after the injuries inflicted by whumper; the concussion has left them confused, sometimes whumpee confused about who they are and where they are, and sometimes whumpee has a hard time recognizing who caretaker is.

sometimes whumpee even thinks they’re still trapped with whumper and starts panicking (maybe whumpee confused caretaker with whumper), thus caretaker has to comfort and remind them that they’re safe with caretaker now.

caretaker is extremely gentle and patient with whumpee, even though it takes whumpee longer than it does normal people to respond to simple questions like whether or not whumpee is hungry or if they’re feeling any pain anywhere.

if nausea hits, caretaker is always there to rub soothing circles on whumpee’s back and clean them up afterward.

the most important thing is that whumpee is safe with caretaker now.

[anemicjellyfish]

WIP Wednesday!

It's finally time for me to share another piece of my Stolitz EggPreg that I actually didn't abandon, I swear, I just had writer's block and couldn't finish, but I'm STILL working on it!! I refuse to give up!! (It's only been since... September 😨)

Thank you @fuzzandfeathers for tagging me this week!!

It's a bit NSFW, so it's going below the cut.

Still panting, Stolas sits up. His expression a leisurely smile in the afterglow of his orgasm as his pupils recede into the depth of his eyes. A soft coo layers itself under his voice as he speaks.

“That was wonderful, Blitzø.”

Blitzø huffs out from his nose as he picks a small down feather off the corner of his mouth. “There’s more where that came from.” He promises.

Blitzø stands on the bed, level enough with Stolas’ face to cup his cheek. He allows himself a few seconds to bask in the red glow emitting from those beautiful red eyes before he can no longer resist a glance at Stolas’ beak: long and slender, just like Stolas himself. Blitzø had been pecked by the sharp point of it more than a few times during their monthly sessions. The sensation grew on him quickly– almost too quickly, as he had unintentionally shocked Stolas by requesting to be bitten the night their deal was made. 

Tearing his eyes away from Stolas’ beak, Blitzø leans in to nuzzle the feathers of his neck. A hoot of dissatisfaction rumbles in his ear. 

“You gotta be patient, Stols.” Blitzø teases.

Stolas closes his eyes and leans his head back, taking in a deep breath. A devilish grin spreads from his beak. When he opens his eyes again, his pupils resurface and focus on Blitzø.

“Fuck being patient.”

Blitzø can't help but let out a yelp as he's flipped around onto his back. His laughter fills the room while Stolas quickly positions a pillow under his head for comfort. After a few small kisses to Blitzø's neck and chest, Stolas settles himself just over his waist.