#injury aftermath

[whumpster-dumpster]

Injuries that actually have any sort of lasting noticeable presence over the course of multiple episodes, my beloved 💕

[ky-landfill]

[happyfoxx-art]

Aftermath: Impact Part 1 Welcome to the second arc! //sprinkles some disaster twins content on you

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[rockymountainqueen2]

The epic conclusion to the infamous "Hunter gets vivisected" fic!

guess who forgot it was wednesday

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

The two ways I draw the most tired man on earth

[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

[cpt-winters]

Battle Aftermath - *Team Leader Edition* ofc

Leader let out a shaky sigh as he cranked the shower knob, shuddering as the lukewarm spray hit him, water stinging the broken skin littered across his torso.

He closed his eyes, letting the pink-tainted water trickle down his grime-coated form. His shaky fingers ran across the dirt clinging to his forearm before his gaze fell to the tiled floor, watching the red spill down the drain. 

He should've tried harder.

Youngest needed him, and he couldn't- couldn't save them.

Leader turned his front to face the water, promising himself that was the reason for the moisture slinking down his cheeks as he stiffened his jaw.

His teammate's once pleading eyes still bore a hole through his brain, the gruesome imagery bled into his head, spilling across his thoughts.

Leader's temple ached as he let it fall against the tile in front of him, leaning his head against the wall while his throat tightened.

"Boss? Leader, you alright in there?"

Leader straightened to the unmistakable voice at the other side of the door, hissing at the jolt in his side from the sudden movement.

"Y-" He cleared his throat, the hoarseness of his voice intolerable to be heard over the running water. "Yeah. Yeah, all good," Leader called back, calm and unreadable as ever.

Or maybe not.

He could practically hear Teammate's frown from the next room with the resounding hesitance.

"..You sure?"

"Yes- Dammit!" Leader sucked in a shallow breath, refusing to let a sound escape him before regathering himself. "Just go."

A coppery taste pricked his tongue as he bit the inside of his cheek, stomach knotting as he waited for the footsteps outside to finally recede.

He was fine. He wasn't the one who- He was fine. And if everyone would stop asking about it, that would be just fucking great.

He was quick to stifle the first sob threatening the break through, quicker still to muffle the next he failed to. His vision blurred, shoulders shaking as he pushed the back of his bruised wrist to his mouth, refusing to let a single sound escape him.

1/3 (Part Two , Part Three)

[callaeidae3]

Whumptober2024 Day 2: Trust Issues

After the Trials of Marmora

[scarnemo]

you pissed her off

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ask Game:

8. "Who did this to you." and 24. Showing up at friend/mentors house.

With hurt Danny and any/all of the Bats.

Okay, but holy shit, you have no idea how perfect this one is. I was imagining a scenario with both of these earlier today. This is an alternate version of Bring Me Home where Danny and Tim were online friends from the time they were preteens. The actual fic will not go this way, so I'm so excited to have an excuse to share this version with y'all.

Nonny, I absolutely love you for sending these two in (no romo).

For those who don't follow Bring Me Home. Tim's username was IKnowYourSecrets and Danny often calls him "Secrets." Danny's username was -xXPolarisXx- and Tim will call him "Polaris."

And for everyone, Sam and Tucker ended up with codenames after all their adventures in Amity. Sam is referred to as Regrowth and Tucker as Pharaoh. This will come up later in Bring Me Home, but hasn't yet (mainly bc what I'm writing now takes place before those events).

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

Danny's vision blurred and he felt himself fall a dozen feet. He clutched his stomach tighter and grit his teeth against the pain.

He was almost there. He could make it.

With the last of his strength, he shot an ectoblast into the sky and fell a few more feet, hitting the roof of a building. He scrapped along the rough surface and the only reason he didn't scream was because he couldn't catch his breath enough to. Everything hurt.

He couldn't even push himself up and so just lay there, trying and failing to catch his breath. Not even when he heard a strange noise and footsteps behind him could he move. He tensed as much as possible.

"Who are you?" asked a man.

Danny just groaned. He hurt. He needed Tim.

The footsteps got closer and Danny opened his eyes. When had he closed them? He saw black boots and skin-tight leggins.

Then the man was kneeling. Blue accents on his chest, a domino over his eyes.

Danny let out a sigh. It tasted of ectoplasm. "Ni-win," he slurred.

"So you know who I am, who are you? What happened? How can I help?"

"R— R'bin. Know me."

"You're looking for Robin?"

His vision was going dark. "R'bin. Yea. Secrets. Friends."

"I'll get Robin here. Can you tell me your name?"

"Polaris. Tell—" Danny coughed weakly and spat out more ectoplasm. "Tell 'im, 'M ready to accept 'is offer."

"I will," promised Nightwing.

The blackness crept in further. Danny could hear Nightwing still talking, but couldn't make out the words. Everything was getting fuzzy. But he was in Gotham. Tim was here. Tim would make it all better. He let go.

---

Despite the quiet night, Tim was tense. He couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. So when Dick's panicked voice came over the comms asking Damian about a secret friend, he was already pulling up Dick's location.

He was on the roof of Tim's civilian apartment building. Which, what?

"I do not have any secret friends," came Damian's reply.

"He's a meta. Caucasian with white hair. He's hurt bad, bleeding everywhere. Lazarus green blood—"

Tim's blood ran cold and he wished he could grapple faster. "Fuck! I'm heading to your location now. He's my friend, not Robin's. Bring him into my apartment. He needs specialized medicines and I've a supply."

"He called himself Polaris. Said he's ready to accept your offer," said Dick.

"Shit. Fuck. Okay. Eta, fifteen minutes."

"I'll get him inside."

"Don't try to treat his injuries," Tim ordered. "Human treatments won't work."

"Understood."

"And..." Tim hesitated, "Did he say how he was injured?"

"No. He passed out before he could."

Tim cursed again, but didn't reply further, despite the way the rest of his family demanded information. If it was the GIW, he'd need to arrange extraction for Sam and Tucker. But if it was Danny's parents... Well, he might just cross a line he swore he'd never cross when he first put on the Robin suit.

Fifteen minutes later, he was sliding the window to his apartment open. Dick had Danny laid out on the floor and was stripping him and pulling away loose bandages, revealing a large Y-shaped incision on his chest.

Dick looked up at him, face grim. Tim didn't let himself pause to look and ran to his bedroom and threw open his closet door. He slid open a hidden compartment revealing a safe and, with shaking fingers, punched in the code. The door swung open and he grabbed the silver-and-green case inside.

He rushed back to Danny's side. "Who did this to you?" he mumbled as he took stock of the injuries.

"Do you have any idea who might've wanted to hurt him?" asked Dick.

"With these wounds, it would be either the GIW or his parents." Tim bit back a hysterical laugh. "Been trying to get him away from them for three years now, but he swore they'd be okay once they realized who he was. Idiot." Tim bit his lip. He couldn't cry right now. He opened the case and pulled out gloves and antiseptic and began cleaning the wounds. "Dick, I need you to contact Superboy, Impulse, and Wonder Girl. Tell them Phantom's hurt bad and Regrowth and Pharaoh may need immediate extraction."

"Okay." Dick was already typing away on his phone. Moments later, it started ringing and Dick answered it on speaker.

Cassie's voice came over, "Red Robin, what's going on?"

"Phantom's been vivisected. He passed out before he could share the culprits. We're at my apartment in Gotham. If it was the GIW..."

"I'm sure Impulse is already there. I need to go home and grab my deflector first, but I'm going to get to Amity as soon as I can. We'll keep you updated."

"Thanks. Phantom's in bad shape. I don't..."

"Rob, you know what to do. We've known this was a risk for three years. You've talked to Frostbite and Regrowth and Phantom about how to best care for traumatic wounds. You're going to make sure he pulls through this."

Tim's eyes burned, but he kept working. Almost done and then he could start with the stitches. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Rob."

The call disconnected and Tim took a shaky breath. Time to start the stitches. They'd come directly from Frostbite and the thread glowed a bright, ectoplasm green.

"Tim," Dick's voice was tight, "Why do you have a case filled with Lazarus water and Lazarus-green supplies?"

"Not Lazarus water." He didn't bother explaining more. He laid the thread along the wounds and willed it to close the wound.

The thread obeyed, breaking into small pieces and sewing the skin together on his own. For the first time since he realized Danny was hurt, he smiled. Ghost medicine definitely made this part easier.

With the major injury taken care of as best as possible, Tim began checking over the rest of Danny. He had a bad burn on his left thigh, new electricity marks on his right shoulder, and his right ankle was either badly sprained or broken.

So he set to cleaning those as best he could. Creams then bandages covered the burns. The splint he laid along the ankle set itself just like the stitches had.

Dick tried to help, but Tim brushed him aside. It'd take too long to explain what had to be done.

Eventually, Dick got up and walked away. He could hear him in the kitchen area messing around in the fridge and reporting the situation over the comms, but he ignored it.

Finally, everything was categorized and bandaged to the best of his abilities. Now, for the final step. He pulled out a syringe shining bright with ectoplasm and stabbed it into a mostly-uninjured area of Danny's thigh.

Danny's back arched off the ground and he gasped, eyes flying open.

Tim leaned over him, "Danny, it's okay. You're safe now. You made it."

"Tim," gasped Danny.

"Yep. You made it. Can you tell me who did this to you?"

Danny closed his eyes and breathed out. "Mom and Dad."

Tim grasped Danny's hand. "Danny..."

Danny squeezed back. He opened his eyes and met Tim's gaze. "Still have that spare room for me?"

"I've had it since the day you died, idiot. Welcome home."

Danny gave a small smile even as tears tracked down his cheeks. "I'm home."

-----

Okay! That ended up being both longer and shorter than I thought it'd be. Hope you all enjoy. Thanks again for sending the prompt, Nonny! And the rest of you, feel free to keep sending some in. I'm off tomorrow and should be able to fill one or two. Any others I can work on over the course of the week.

For now, it's bedtime.

[whumpelstilts]

I'm always a sucker for injury reveals, but one of my favorite kind is when the injury is revealed to the person who’s hurt. They could already feel the pain-

-or maybe they couldn’t. Maybe the drugs have kept the worst at bay. Maybe they were in shock before, their mind protecting them from the worst of it. Or maybe they’re just used to pain. Maybe it’s easier to downplay what you can’t see-

-but then they finally. See it. See the damage. Peel back the bandages. Finally look at themselves in the mirror. In the photos that were taken for evidence. In the video that was taken when it happened. They see the raw manifest of their trauma. The bruises when they were fresh. The bruising bloomed across their skin now that they’re safe and it’s been a few days. The poorly knitted together cuts still red and inflamed while their body attempts to fight off infection. The swelling around their eye, when they’d grown used to their vision being impaired by now. The splints around their fingers. Their skin mottled and scraped and just. Damaged. Whenever someone tries to help them wash up.

They finally see themselves in the mirror for how they are. Hurt. Damaged. Ruined.

And it’s almost impossible to believe that this isn’t how they’ll look for the rest of their lives. That this isn’t what the people they love will see from now on every time they look at them. Even if they heal, this? This is forever now, and maybe it was inevitable that it would always come to this

They’ve always been a hurt thing. Now the outside matches the inside

[whump-or-whatever]

I just love when a whumpee is walking around, trying to pretend that everything is fine and dandy, but the whole time their clothes are rubbing painfully against hastily bandages wounds, messy stitches, bruised skin, raw flesh, etc.

I feel like this is best exemplified with tight-fitting clothes and especially jeans, as the fabric is rough and stiff, creating a constant chafing effect. But it also works with loose-fitting clothes, where the ghosting of fabric over an injured torso could feel like fire.

Best accompanied by whumpee’s hand continuously returning to the same spot on their body as if to soothe an ache before quickly moving away to avoid suspicion OR whumpee holding back a wince every time someone touches them/brushes against them in the wrong spot.

Bonus: blood slowly seeping through clothing

[puppetmaster13u]

More Possessed Doll Au (the au was created by @phoenixcatch7 so go check them out they do great stuff!)

Honestly this would be early-ish I am thinking into Bruce doing his vigilante work with the doll body. Or he just straight up has thick eyeliner/raccoon makeup lol.

[happyfoxx-art]

Aftermath 25 - That makes 100 pages :) I hope you've been enjoying it! this is the end of the first arc, I hope you're excited for the next part!

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[saintmalosunsets]

Two days later, he checked in at a hospital as “Lynn Compton” in full WWII gear to get it re-stitched.

[redrcs]

The aftermath.

Steer wrestling gone wrong. His horse pulled up, he went over and hit the gate, back first. His spur went through the metal and it took 5 mins to work it out. The steer was fine, his horse was fine, the cowboy was very very sore.

Kenilworth Rodeo.