#prompt: head injury

[serickswrites]

Things We Lost

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced head injury, fire, nightmares, chronic pain, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort

Caretaker woke with a start. Whumpee thrashed in the bed next to them, moaning softly as they moved. Caretaker put a gentle hand on Whumpee's shoulder and leaned back. Whumpee had hit them a few times accidentally when they tried to wake Whumpee from a nightmare. Whumpee's limbs flailed.

"Shhhh, love," Caretaker murmured quietly, "it's just a dream. Shhhh, wake up, love. I've got you."

Whumpee's sleep shirt slipped down over their shoulder as they moved, revealing their deep, ragged scars from the fire Whumper had set trying to keep them. Caretaker would never forget finding Whumpee. Would never forget trying to find a way through the flames to Whumpee. Whumpee had watched them with eyes unfocused, their face a mask of blood. Whumper had hurt them, terribly, banging their head on concrete before setting fire to the warehouse. Caretaker was in the midst of trying to find another way to Whumpee, when Whumpee leapt through the flames, their ragged clothing catching fire.

And Whumpee's screams of pain were a sound that Caretaker would never forget. The sound of pure agony ripping itself from Whumpee's lips. The sound lived forever in Caretaker's brain.

Whumpee had lost a lot in their time with Whumpee. But they were healing. Slowly. The doctors had assured Caretaker Whumpee would make a full recovery, albeit they would likely suffer from some chronic pain. But they would live. And function.

"Love, I'm here, wake up," Caretaker shook Whumpee's shoulder.

Whumpee's eyes snapped open, a shriek escaping their lips. Their eyes were unfocused as they wildly glanced around the room. "NOOO. PLEASE!"

"Whumpee, love, you're here. You're here with me." Caretaker rubbed a soft circle on Whumpee's shoulder. "I'm here. You're safe."

Whumpee blinked slowly. Their eyes began to focus. "Caretaker?" They whispered.

"Here, love. I've got you." They opened their arms for Whumpee.

Whumpee leaned into Caretaker's embrace. "Thank God. That was....a really bad one."

Caretaker squeezed Whumpee tight. "I know. But I've got you. You're safe."

Whumpee snuggled tighter into Caretaker's arms. "I know you do. You're the one thing I didn't lose."

"And I didn't lose you," Caretaker replied softly, kissing the top of Whumpee's head. They didn't. But they very nearly had.

"Will you hold me until I fall asleep again?" Whumpee's voice was soft and uncertain.

"Of course. I'll hold you as long as you'll let me."

Whumpee let out a sigh of relief, burrowing deep into Caretaker's embrace. "Safe....here," they murmured as they closed their eyes.

"You'll always be safe here, Whumpee. I have you, love. And I'll never let you go."

[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´▽`)

[whump-galaxy]

Love a character with a black eye. Love when their chin is lifted to the light and their eyes wince and rest, full of exhaustion. Love when they’re covered in dirt, and their hair is in tangles. Love when they relax their head into a stranger’s hand, hoping the gentleness lasts.

[morganbritton132]

I’ve played soccer most of my life and I do know there are concussion headbands some people wear to keep them safe when they head the ball since concussions are very common in soccer from headers (the only safe place to head the ball is about right on your hairline and you don’t always get it right lol). Nancy and Eddie def researched and got him one after seeing him head the ball for the first time and freaked out. Steve hates wearing it

First, thank you! I am very much Eddie and Nancy in the soccer part of the saga. I don’t play sports so big thanks to all the people that are giving information and ideas.

Second, I love the idea of Nancy and Eddie being very strict parent/understanding parent about it, but Eddie is the reasonable one and Nancy might just be fully insane.

“This is bullying.”

Steve sulks deeper into the couch, crossing his arms over his jersey in a full pout. He glares at the headband and then gives Eddie a pleading look, “I don’t want it.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie says sympathetically, “But-“

“Too bad,” Nancy cuts in. “Do you know how common concussions are in soccer? You decided to play Concussion: The Sport. Dress like it.”

“No one else is wearing one. I’ll look dumb!”

“Okay, then. Maybe we don’t stop a speeding ball with our head then,” Eddie tries. “How about that?”

“No,” Nancy answers even though the question wasn’t directed at her. “Not good enough! Wear the headband or we’ll get you a helmet.”

“Eddie!”

Eddie stalls for a second and then points to Robin, “You won’t look dumb. Robin has one too.”

“She looks dumb.”

Robin’s just like, “Hey!”

Nancy moves and sits on the coffee table in front of Steve with a look that has faced down interdimensional monsters and sexist bosses all the same. Steve’s going to wear this headband or he’s not playing and they both know it when she says, “Would you rather look stupid now and be able to remember it in five year or be drooling all over yourself when your cognitive functions starts declining after another head injury.”

“Hey, too far,” Eddie chastises, hitting her shoulder. “…But take that into consideration, Stevie. I want you to have fun but-“ 

“It’s going to mess up my hair!”

Nancy throws up her hands, “Then we’ll shave your head!”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie swears under his breath. “Wheeler, reel it in and take a walk. Let me talk to him. Jesus.”

[whump-or-whatever]

You know that feeling you get when you’ve spun around in circles for too long? The one where the whole world is unsteady and you are physically incapable to remaining upright or walking in a straight line?

Yeah. Make your whumpee so sick/malnourished/dehydrated/concussed that that’s all they feel. Make them stumble from side to side, slam into walls, find themself on the floor without knowing how they got there, and try to crawl but only manage to flop pathetically before collapsing outright and closing their eyes against the nauseating experience.

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

screaming crying and sobbing over characters having hushed conversations over their injured/sick teammate.

Why are they whispering? Is there danger nearby? Do they want to avoid disturbing their teammate? Are they about to do something unpleasant but necessary for their teammate's survival - like setting a bone or flushing out an infected wound?

Or are they talking normally and the injured party just can't understand everything that's being said? Are they delirious with pain or fever? A head injury is affecting their hearing? Are they having difficulty staying conscious, and that one teammate keeps patting their face or shaking them, doing anything they can to keep them awake? Why are there so many hands on them? Why do they keep pushing on their stomach? Why does everyone sound so serious/nervous/angry/sad?

+ bonus points for manhandling their friend bc it's for their own good

[whumpster-dumpster]

Blood from a head wound matting into Whumpee's long hair 💕

[weirdstrangeandawful]

I don't know why but I love when a character collapses and they reflexively answer no when someone asks them if they think they've hit their head but later pauses and goes "I... I think I may have hit my head."

[autocrats-in-love]

Hero has amnesia from an injury Villain caused. villain is guilty and gaslights the hero into loving them

Don't You Remember?

Be warned: gaslighting (no fake love in this part), head injury

The villain heard something. They dropped their book and ran over to their room. In their bed was the hero, who had been passed out for two days. But now the hero was stirring, mumbling something as their eyes fluttered open and closed. The villain rushed to their side, holding their hand as the hero pulled themself into consciousness.

“Hey,” the villain said as the hero’s eyes fluttered open.

The hero stared up at the villain, who was holding them up with their arm. The hero blinked a few times.

“Um, hi.” the hero said.

Their face was covered in sweat. Their voice was scratchy. The villain couldn’t help themselves. They pulled the hero into a hug. The hero hesitantly returned it.

“Oh, wow. I’m so sorry. I just. . .I was so worried.” the villain said when they parted, tearing up.

“Um, thanks.” the hero said.

The hero put their hand to their forehead, where bandages wrapped around it to the back, where their injury lay.

“What happened?” the hero said.

The villain raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?” 

“I don’t.” the hero said. “I don’t remember a lot. Like who you are. And who I am.” 

“Oh. Oh, no.” the villain said. “This is bad.”

The hero frowned slightly like they disagreed.

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” the hero said. “You can help me. I’m guessing you’re my partner, right?”

The villain froze. The villain thought about the hero’s stuff that they had lugged to their own place for the duration of the hero’s recovery. They thought about the hero’s favourite foods in their fridge. Finally, they thought about the aching in their heart when the hero had asked their question.

“Yeah, yeah I am. Can you remember anything about your- our life?”

The hero blinked slowly. “Um, not really. I think I can kind of remember . .a bedroom. But it doesn’t look like this one,” the hero looked around the small, windowless room. “not at all.”

The villain shrugged. Their heart leapt in their throat. “You’re probably remembering a friend's room or something.”

“Yeah, maybe.” the hero said.

The villain’s heartbeat calmed down. “Do you want some water? Or toast? You like toast.”

The hero wearily leaned back against the headboard. “Could I get water?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be right back.”

But before the villain could stand up, the hero grabbed their wrist. It made the villain blush. 

“Wait. What. . .what happened to me?” the villain asked.

The truth? A few days ago, the villain was trying to open an interdimensional portal. The hero arrived at the scene and tried to stop them. The villain decided the best way to stop their enemy would be to throw them through the portal. But, when they managed to toss the hero, the portal closed. So the hero hit a wall. Hard. Too hard. The villain panicked and took the hero back to their underground lair, getting their medic to patch the hero up. 

No way in hell could the villain say that.

“A metal beam fell on your head when you were walking.” The villain said. “Under a construction site.”

They got out before any follow-up questions were asked.

The villain got the hero their water and then left them to sleep. The villain needed a minute to figure out what their plan was. They sat down on a couch and flicked on the nearest television.

“-is still missing. Any information on their whereabouts can be reported anonymously to this number.”

There was a news reporter, talking as a phone number flashed on the screen. Above the numbers was a picture of the missing person. The hero. 

The villain gritted their teeth. This was not going to be easy.

[penelopetheconartist]

Ooh if you're looking for inspiration, how about headcanons for Mark, pablo, Rafael, and Luke on how they would react if their farmer was caught in a collapse in the caverns or maybe had a little bit too close of a call with a monster? No worries if this doesn't appeal to you!

Sorry lol I drink hurt/comfort up like it's water. I love the game, but the romances lack just a little bit of drama or true relationship building.

My homie. I too live for the hurt/ comfort. You speak my language!!! 🩷 (Also, thanks for sending me an ask!!) I wrote 2 things. I hope these are okay :D Aight. Some boyos reaction to getting hurt in the mines! All but Luke would be in the mines with farmer. Mark: he would absolutely have a brief moment where he makes fun of his "Garden Rake" for getting hurt but will soon realize they are really hurt and will go into full blown protector mode. His face will stay stone cold. "Ah shit. You're actually hurt, aren't you?" He kneels and checks the damage, "Hmm. Decent injury. You sure are tough." His face softens as he almost grins at the farmer. "Let's get you patched up.” His big rough hands are so gentle tending to the wound. The gentleness speaks to his experience with caring for others. Pablo: he's not good with blood even though he watches horror movies with his bro. TV blood is just better than real life. But he is good at being heroic. He'd definitely rip his shirt for bandages. Which he might regret later because he would've picked the shirt out specifically to show off how good he looks. Although blood would make him feel woozy, he can tough it out. Pablo would keep the mood light. Rafael: he'd be calm. He'd have a first aid kit. Injuries don't bother him because of the horror movies. He takes his first aid training seriously. All those times you've envied the blades he would gently caress and handle with care, now you know. He is completely in the take care of you zone, he's not even flustered for getting to touch you so much. Luke: there'd be a lot of internal panic. But running an electronic and appliance store (and having Walter as his father) prepared him for tough situations. Also, he probably reads medical journals for fun. The internal panic would work in his favour however and he’d tend to wounds and call the doctors to his mansion. He'd be reticent though with laser focus.

[esbee-daisy]

Prompt: B slips on black ice while out getting firewood. They land with a whack, head smacking on a rock, knocking them out cold. In the cold.

Minutes later, a snowstorm starts blowing in. It’s not until a good 30 minutes later that A finally finds them in their frantic search - B is covered in layer of snow. It’s the large and striking red spot against the pure white snow that alerts A to their location. But once they drop next to them, they can see B in painful detail; blue lipped, shuddering and shivering uncontrollably, so hard it looks painful. Their bright red face is lax with unconsciousness, but they don’t look peaceful. Any longer in the storm and B might have been completely buried by the snow. Blood is still oozing slowly from their head and they are clearly hypothermic. And they’re in the middle of no where with no signal.

[serickswrites]

A Christmas Carol

Warnings: head injury, concussion

“Whumpee!” Caretaker shouted as they ran up. Whumper and Whumpee were engaged in a wrestling match, with Whumpee barely keeping Whumper from hurting them seriously. Caretaker watched in horror as their words distracted Whumpee enough that Whumper was able to get the upper hand. 

Whumper flipped Whumpee over and underneath them. They slammed Whumpee’s head onto the concrete. Once. Twice. The sickening crack of Whumpee’s skull against the concrete had Caretaker ready to vomit. 

Whumper quickly ran off as Caretaker ran up to the now very still Whumpee. “Whumpee?”

Whumpee groaned in response. Their eyes fluttered as they tried to open them. “’are’er?” Their words were slowed and slurred. 

Caretaker knelt next to Whumpee and squeezed their shoulder. “Don’t move. Whumper got you really good in the head.”

“‘urts,” Whumpee muttered. 

“I know. I’m sorry. This is my fault.” Caretaker tried to hold back their tears. 

Whumpee patted their hand clumsily. “‘s kaaaay.”

“It’s not ok. Not at all. I need to get you help. You have a concussion.” Caretaker looked around for their back up. They should have arrived already. 

“Nnnnot m’firsssttt.” Whumpee’s eyes fluttered again.

“Doesn’t matter. No head injury is a good thing. Open your eyes, Whumpee. Just stay awake. Just a little longer.”

“’s kay, Caret’er.” 

Caretaker tapped Whumpee’s cheeks. “Keep your eyes, open. Stay awake, Whumpee. Stay.”

[whump-galaxy]

The smartest of the team is captured before the rest. They’re mercilessly brutalized for information they refuse to give up. When the team is captured, the smartest is only a shell of their former self. Any time spent conscious isn’t coherent.

The team is dragged out in front of their captors, berated and taunted for being unable to save their teammate. The smartest’s head is lifted, eyes glazed over and blood trickling from cracked lips. They seem broken beyond repair.

But as the team is separated and dragged away, the smartest looks up with a glint in their eyes and a smile on their face.

[avvail-whumps]

OWNER

cw: manhandling, graphic violence, gore, minor character death, multiple whumpers, reluctant whumper

Riley almost spilled his tea as the sniper came sauntering past, taking a swift step back to avoid stepping on the whumpee he was dragging unceremoniously behind him. Those gloved hands were knotted in their hair, all while they writhed and screamed in anger, shoes scraping against the floor. 

“Let go of me!” They cried, their face contorted in pain when the sniper hurled them further along, a horrid cry of pain tearing from their lips. 

The bathroom door was swung open with shocking force, smacking against the wall as the sniper dragged them inside. The whumpee’s eyes were stinging with tears, and Riley could only assume they had done something to piss the sniper off - even with the mask covering half of his face, he looked like he was in a bad mood. Riley had been around the man long enough to read his body language. And his eyes.

Still, he knew he should leave. He knew this would get bloody. 

Yet for some reason, with the scolding tea settled in the palm of his hands, he couldn’t look away. 

The sniper hurled the whumpee up violently, hand braced against the bathroom sink tightly, a stark contrast against the vibrant white to his dark black clothes. Riley only caught a glimpse of the whumpee’s horrified expression, before Sniper smacked their head against the edge of the sink. 

Their legs spasmed and a guttural scream tore from their throat, but the sniper didn’t stop there. Riley, through wide eyes, only caught a glimpse of dripping blood before their skull was pounded into the tiles once more. 

Over and over again. 

The whumpee’s terrified screams came to an abrupt stop after only a few ruthless hits, the force making the ceramic crack and groan under the violent weight. Their body was only held up by the sniper’s hand twisted in their hair, their legs already buckled from underneath them and twitching sporadically. When the sniper unceremoniously dumped their body on the floor, Riley was met with the sight of fresh blood, mangled hair clumped in knots and a caved in skull. 

The sniper stepped over the body, and sharply signed: “Clean up.” 

Riley numbly stared at the body. He could see a finger still twitching, and suddenly the tea didn’t feel so hot in his hands. 

drabble winners tag list – @morning-star-whump

[whump-or-whatever]

Head and Face Injury/Illness List

Black eye

TWO black eyes

Bloody head wound

Slash across face

Bloody lip

Bloody nose

Broken nose

Split bridge of the nose

Split lip

Bleeding from eyes

Bleeding from ears

Ear cut/ripped off

Hair ripped out

Busted eyebrow

Bruised cheekbone

Bruised jaw

Broken jaw

Concussion

Lightheadedness

Ringing in ears

Burst eardrum

Ear infection

Runny nose

Red puffy eyes

Knocked/pulled out tooth

Bit tongue

Something in eyes (dirt, mace, etc.)

Skull fracture

Blinded by bright light

Add any others y'all can think of!

[leventart-den]

I love seeing Sanji and Zoro trying to recover from a bad fight together

Just…. Both of them in pain, maybe some blood??? That’s good shit right there

Just them being quiet trying to patch the other up, because Chopper already has enough on his.. hooves? And they don’t want to be a burden

You don’t even have to draw this, I just want your opinion on this???? It is VERY important I swear

Dearest Anony!

I swear I'll draw this, I really like the idea! But since this is VERY important, I cannot remain silent and leave you for days without an answer.

Plus, damn, I love this kind of stuff, I could talk about it for hours (if I didn't have to use an online translator because my written English is non-existent).

AN (Me from the future while I was writing what is below): I tried to be short but I was carried away. Thanks for the inspiration, by the way. I'm sorry for all the blood. But I hope that you like it overall and that my answer will brighten up your time at least a little!

AN2 (even further in the future when I finished writing): When I have time I'll rewrite this into a fanfic, if you don't mind, dear Anony.

P.S. to everyone who wrote prompts for art - I will draw each of them, I promise! Thank you very much, they are wonderful! One Piece Art prompts are open for an unlimited time.

***

What I picture in my head when I read your prompt:

It’s time after a heavy battle, they are on the ship, everyone is tired, it’s the afternoon, calm and very quiet. Sanji and Zoro seem to be fine at first glance, and Chopper is so tired that he doesn't have the strength to insist on checking their condition, so he lets them go, immediately falling asleep at the table. It's so hot on the deck, almost suffocating without the wind, but Sanji and Zoro go downstairs to where provisions are stored, barrels of alcohol and where it's cool.

Sanji limps to his usual place, to a box against the wall on which he sits down heavily, leaning against the wooden surface and exhaling a cloud of smoke from the smoldering cigarette now clutched in his fingers. It's stained with blood.

Zoro glances at him briefly and silently heads to the far corner, pulling out a box of first aid from behind the drawers. It's a familiar routine by this point. They are both strong and both don't want to be a burden to Chopper when it can be avoided. They're both stupid like this. So of course at some point in their journey they came to this silent agreement mending each other's wounds and here they are. Again.

Zoro places the box on a nearby drawer and sits down opposite Sanji. The cook takes another drag and finally puts out the cigarette on the wall, throwing the cigarette butt into the iron tin can nearby, which he placed for such purposes. He grunts, finally opening the box and taking out everything he needs while Zoro takes off his shirt.

There is no tightness or awkwardness between them about such things. Not anymore. 

Sanji begins by treating the nasty gash on his forehead. It turned out to be difficult to wipe off all the blood; head wounds usually bleed a lot. Although, with his experience up to this point, he gets the job done quite quickly. Next come the wounds on the arms and torso. There are several cuts and spreading bruises. Zoro has a couple of broken ribs. He drinks a few drinks from the bottle while Sanji stitches up a particularly deep cut near his collarbone and tightens bandages around his chest and torso.

They don't talk during the process, they are too tired even for their usual banter and jokes towards each other. They would probably rather go to bed now, but the risk of upsetting and angering Chopper later is too great. So they will finish what they started, despite the fact that Zoro is half asleep and Sanji's movements are getting slower.

The air becomes heavy with blood and now the smell of tobacco is added to it. Sanji lights another cigarette and Zoro opens his eyes watching him. The cook's hands are shaking, he notes. He runs his eyes over his entire form, noting his injuries. He doesn't see much but Curly looks pale. His gaze falls down. There is a pool of blood on the floor under his feet. Zoro swears soundlessly. Looks like the shitty cook has got his legs messed up.

Zoro gives him a very meaningful look and Sanji sighs. He bites the cigarette between his teeth and fumbles with the waistband of his trousers, but his fingers are too weak right now. 

Zoro watches him for a few seconds and clenches his teeth because of the pain in his ribs, but still gets up and leans towards the cook, pushing his hands away and helping with the clothes. Sanji lifts himself off the box as far as he can, allowing him to pull his trousers down, and then leans heavily against the wall again. His cigarette is smoldering, he is too sleepy to even smoke.

Zoro, meanwhile, examines his legs. There are several deep cuts and his left ankle is swollen and his knees are bruised. Zoro thinks that he shouldn't be surprised, after all, the shitty cook's legs are his weapons, the main blows fall on them, but still. If some of the cuts had been any higher they could have cut the artery and then the cook would have been dead. Zoro finds himself observing all the old scars that cover his skin. He shakes his head, pushing away the thoughts; now is not the time for them.

At this moment, the pale bloodstained hand falls down and the half-smoked cigarette slips out of limped fingers onto the floor. Zoro's gaze shoots up, he feels pressure in his chest for a second and it's not his broken ribs.

But Sanji's breathing is calm and measured. The cook just fell asleep, it seems.

The swordsman releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Okay.

This is okay.

Everything is fine.

He picks up the cigarette from the floor, puts it out and throws it into the jar with the others. Zoro winces at the movement. His damn ribs hurt with the adrenaline gone, but he'll take care of this stupid cook anyway.

He gets rid of the blood around the wounds and stitches them up, trying to keep his hands as stable as possible. It turns out to be more difficult than it seemed, but he tries. He bandages Sanji's legs after and takes off his shoes with socks, checking his ankles and feet.

It looks like nothing was broken, probably just a sprain, so for now Zoro will do what he can and tomorrow Sanji will turn to Chopper himself if necessary.

After a few minutes and tending to a few other cuts and bruises here and there, Zoro looked over his work and decided he was done. The cook didn’t even flinch during all this time and it looked worrying if it weren’t for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest from breathing. He really lost a lot of blood. Zoro decided not to even try to wake him.

Grunting, he bent down, pulling his pants up to his knees and then moved the cook's motionless body closer to himself, leaning back a little so that he would lean against him and Zoro could pull his pants all the way up. He carefully returned Sanji to his seat and sighed wearily as he buttoned up his pants. Zoro felt exhausted by this point. He wasn't sure he could make it upstairs to the cabins with Sanji as dead weight.

So after a few seconds of hesitation, Zoro went to the corner where they kept all sorts of extra things and fished out a heavy animal skin with thick fur and a couple of blankets. He placed it on the floor next to Sanji and carefully moved him onto the makeshift bed, throwing a blanket over him. He watched as Sanji reflexively curled up on himself, burying his face in the soft fur. The cook always sleeps like this, as if he is trying to hide. It never sits right with Zoro. It looks wrong. 

One day he will find out why. But now Zoro settles down next to Sanji, wrapping his arm around him on top of the blanket and holding him close to himself. He feels the other man's shoulders relax and his breath a little too hot on his collarbone. His nose is cold against Zoro's skin. Zoro suddenly feels like he won't be able to sleep, but he buries his face in the cook's hair, which smells of cherry tobacco, sea and spices, and listens to his heartbeat against his skin.

He falls asleep within seconds.