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whump-in-the-closet · 8 months ago

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A Healer's Hands

poll results came in: team whump, medic is broken down to be made an example of

cw: gore, medic whump, creepy whumper, team dynamics, captivity, torture

The Medic's crew stumbled through the cell door, one after the other.

Captain, with a black eye and a limp, lifted two fingers to their temple in a mock solute. Their clothes were torn and there was blood on their uniform's collar.

Youngest trembled as one of the henchmen shoved them inside the gated door. They looked around, eyes brighter than a deer's in headlights. "H-hey Medic." They wrapped their arms around themself.

"Hey," Medic swallowed down the twisting feeling that rose up. He forced his voice to soften, to not carry any of the sharp panic he felt. "Where are you hurt?"

"We're fine," Captain cut in, gesturing behind Medic's shoulder. "It's--"

Medic had already whirled around.

Lieutenant.

The Lieutenant held onto the cell wall with a shaking grip. Where he touched it, blood trickled down the stones in a steady faucet run.

Drip.

"Lieutenant?"

He glanced up. His nose was gushing red. It stained his uniform, bright and electric in the dull light.

"Turns out those fuckers can throw a punch after all," said Lieutenant with a hoarse laugh. Still unceremoniously reckless.

But he let Medic hold a makeshift bandage--ripped from Medic's shirt-- to his nose.

As Lieutenant sat down, Medic crouched beside him, correcting how he was holding the bandage. "Don't tilt your head up."

Lieutenant winced when Medic readjusted the bandage.

Medic drew away and reevaluated the situation. "It's broken," he said.

"It’s just a new look I’m trying out – call it avant-garde." Lieutenant tried to laugh but ended up grimacing. He waved Medic away. "I'll survive."

Medic shook his head. "Wiseass." But he smiled. Then. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Lieutenant tilted his head against the wall, pieces of choppy hair falling away to reveal a swollen eye and pulsing bruises. He closed his eyes. Through a clenched jaw, he managed, "I think they broke my ribs."

Medic swallowed down a wave of helplessness. "Just stay still."

Lieutenant kept his eyes closed, breathing shallowly. "My pleasure."

Medic turned to Captain and Youngest. "So, you and you, where are you injured?" He only asked to make conversation. He had already identified that Youngest's arm was dislocated, hanging loosely at their side. And on Captain's right thigh was a raw-edged wound, seeping and damaged.

Medic took off his jacket, ready to tear it into makeshift bandages and a sling.

But neither looked at him.

Youngest was staring at something over Medic's shoulder. They pressed back into the wall, shaking.

"No," they whispered. "No. Not again."

Captain put a comforting hand on their shoulder, mouth set in a thin line.

Electric fear whispered a spider-like path down Medic's spine. They turned just as the cell door opened.

Whumper entered with two henchmen strolling behind them. Whumper grinned, teeth canine-sharp. His blood-red hair was tied back, accentuating fox-like features. He didn't look quite human-- too tall, too much of a bounce in his walk.

And he wouldn't stop smiling.

He swung a crowbar.

Even Lieutenant flinched.

Oh.

Whumper arched an eyebrow when Medic stood his ground. "You're Medic?"

Medic glanced at Lieutenant-- saw panic and web-woven fear-- then back at Whumper. "Yes."

Whumper flicked the crowbar side to side. He kept talking, a paper mache smile at the corner of his mouth. "I don't appreciate you wrecking what I'm trying to build here."

Medic failed to understand. "I'm a medic. I have to provide care," he said automatically.

His head buzzed. He couldn't-- couldn't think clearly.

Whumper appeared to consider this. He tilted his head to the side. "I see. Well, I have to do things too, I get it."

"Yeah. Wait. No, what?"

The henchmen grabbed Medic. One kicked him in the back of the knees, forcing him to kneel.

Medic struggled, lashing out like a trapped animal.

A henchman brought the edge of their gun over Medic's head and Medic slumped forward.

His vision suddenly doubled.

The short-wired tension burst into flame.

Captain lunged forward. "Leave him alone!"

It took two henchmen to restrain Captain, pinning their arms behind them, and another to kick Lieutenant in the ribs, so he doubled over coughing. Incapacitated.

Whumper leaned over Medic, tilting his chin up to look him in the eye. "You should have left well enough alone," he whispered.

Medic snarled something unintelligible. A curse. A plea. He didn't know.

Whumpr straightened. To the others, he said, "You all break as easily as his hands will. And if you don't believe me? Watch."

There was a sharp intake of breath. Realization hit with a dull, sick thud. "No!" Lieutenant cried out, "No! No-- don't!"

But the henchmen had dragged Medic's hand out and splayed it on the tiles, kicking him when he tried to pull it away.

Whumper lifted the crowbar.

Medic's eyes widened in horror.

"No-- no, nonono! Please--" His voice arched into a desperate cry, more animal than human.

Crack.

A splintering sound.

All Medic could see was white. Electric pain filled every nerve, spilled into every bone, coating his teeth and burning-- burning, burning, burning.

A terrible sound ripped itself out of his throat.

And then again--

Crack.

His left hand.

Medic screamed.

Maybe he had screamed before.

Had always screamed.

Maybe he would scream forever.

Darkness filled the corners of his vision, blurring the sharp flashes of red of white--

Electric, pulsing red.

Burning, vicious white.

Blood trickled down his arms, bright and throbbing with a cinching pain.

Whumper wiped the gory crowbar on Medic's shirt.

His henchmen let the unconscious medic slump to the floor, little more than a bundle of clothes. They released Captain, who sank to the cell floor, unable to look away from Medic.

Whumper bent down by Lieutenant, whose breaths were coming in sharp drags. He wiped a tear off of Liutenant's face. "Crying?"

"No." His voice shook.

Whumper smiled generously. "Oh, no." He stood. "Tomorrow, one of you will offer up the information on your base. I do not make idle threats."

The door locked on the blood-soaked cell.

Lieutenant muffled a sob.

"We...we can't," said Captain. Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry.

They didn't know if they were apologizing to the unconscious Medic or to what remained of his hands.

tagging the people who interacted with the poll: @acer-gaysimpstuff, @yet-another-heathen, @another-whump-sideblog

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dandelion-wings · 4 months ago

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For the angst/gore prompts, could we please have “06: Not Realizing They’re Injured” from the first list with Kujou Sara? Especially something to do with those poor wings I sincerely doubt she was ever taught how to properly take care of.

Thank you for the ask! <3 I have to apologize for this one too, anon, because it's another one that ended up not very whumpy--more a mix of hurt/comfort and angst (and a dose of 'how much can I villain Takayuki?'), because your particular prompt sideswiped a fic idea(s)(really more a constellation of fic premises and themes) that I've been turning over for a while and just kind of. stuck to that until it was irretrievably gummed together. I hope it is still sufficiently wing-focused to earn your forgiveness!

---

ETA: now on AO3.

---

Kujou Takayuki has never once told Sara that she isn't permitted to fly.

She remembers his frown when she was a child, the one time she had leapt into the air to gain an advantage in training. Even though it had given her tactical superiority, he had penalized her for it when evaluating those training exercises. At the time, she had thought it about honor, about the unfairness of exceeding her peers not by outdoing them through the same efforts, but by using an advantage they did not.

When she was older, rising through the ranks in the field, she had once in extremis made an attempt to scout from the air. That time she had seen the frowns on other officers' faces before she had even landed, and understood that honor didn't figure into this at all. It was about being different, being *other*, about the fear some of her soldiers couldn't hide when reminded that she was a youkai, about the contempt some of her superiors showed when they thought she could not see or hear. About her adoption by humanity and what was required of her to uphold the Kujou name.

By the time she becomes a general herself, she doesn't need to be told to stay on the ground.

Flight might have been an advantage for her on the battlefield, but it had never been a necessity. No other tengu has served in the Almighty Shogun's military for almost five hundred years. *Certainly* none served in Watatsumi's. Perhaps she might have gained an edge by taking to the air, but she did not lose significantly by refraining.

After the war, after the Sakuko Decree is lifted, after Takayuki is removed as head of the Kujou Clan and the Tenryou Commission alike, that changes. Gliders have existed for hundreds of years, but have never before been a popular import, nor often even a permitted one; they are different and foreign, and the Almighty Shogun was so long resistant to things that were different and foreign that the Tri-Commission feared to march in lockstep. So has it been with many imports that the Kanjou Commission is only now slowly coming to authorize.

Gliders are particularly popular, due to the mountainous nature of many of Inazuma's most populated islands, where they no doubt would have been popular long before if not for the Tri-Commission's care, but the traveler had made their use seem particularly alluring and permissible. Unfortunately, it isn't only law-abiding citizens who can obtain them now that the sea around Inazuma is clear. The Doushin are struggling to keep up with bandits and smugglers who can just glide away from arrest.

Kamaji, after the third report of such in a row, orders a shipment of gliders from the Knights of Mondstadt to be distributed to the Doushin. When he tells Sara, he smiles, and nods to her wings, and adds, "Though you're fortunate enough not to need them."

Which is all but an order. Even if Takayuki *had* told Sara she wasn't permitted to fly, this would be the new head of the Kujou Clan countermanding that instruction. That the thought of spreading long-disused wings leaves her uneasy doesn't affect her duty.

---

The next such encounter occurs before the shipment of gliders has even arrived. This is a particularly troublesome group of bandits, who have escaped the Doushin twice before; when another report of their activities comes in, Sara leads her forces after them herself. They find the bandits' camp on the edge of a cliff, and when they're startled while celebrating their ill-gotten gains, it seems inevitable that the less drunken and more sharp-witted of them attempt to glide to an escape.

"You, securely bind our existing captives. You, take your troops down that way, and you, that way," Sara orders, pointing out the fastest safe routes down the cliff. "They seem to be aiming for that cliffside, so they may have a secret tunnel or hatch. I'll attempt to cut them off before I get there."

She turns away as the Doushin rush to follow her commands, and spreads her wings at the edge of the cliff. This isn't the first time she's done this, of course--flight is powered by muscles, and any muscle must be exercised. As soon as Kamaji had given his instructions, she'd begun practicing each day, finding a private place in the caverns beneath Inazuma City and attempting first short glides, then short flights, then longer ones. None have been in so open a place as this mountainside with the canyon at its foot, wind whistling through, but she trusts in her training. She could have flown this easily as a child.

Her wings catch the air as she leaps off the edge, and then she's swooping down, flapping to gain speed and get past the gliding bandits, diving towards the cliff to which they're trying to flee. From now she can indeed see a too-deep shadow at the base, where bushes grow. Despite the seriousness of the situation, there's a lightness in being aloft in the open air, a *joy* in flight, that only now that she feels it again does Sara recall, dimly, from her boisterous early childhood. She smiles to herself, all the unease she'd felt when anticipating this change falling away.

The bandits are behind her now, and the cliff close ahead. She flares her wings again to catch herself in the air and adjust, so that she can turn the dive into a plunging attack before she hits the cliff-

A gust of wind hits her broadside as she spreads her wings wide. The force of it wrenches her right wing with a pull that flares into lancing pain, and then the wing collapses in on itself at the wrong angle.

Sara finds herself spiraling as she flaps only the left, desperately trying to slow herself down, to change her bearing. Shifting her grip on her bow, she closes that wing before she reaches the cliff, the other not drooping and dragging limp, and manages to plummet the last few meters and land on both feet. Her right ankle twinges at the awkward landing.

She still manages to turn and straighten and aim before the bandits actually reach her. The uncooperative wing is still alight with pain, but she grits her teeth and lets Electro crackle around her. The bandits hesitate and spread wide to flank her, putting themselves right into the arms of her Doushin.

Lowering her bow, Sara takes a step forward and collapses to one knee as the fractured bone in her ankle snaps under her weight.

---

To add to the humiliation of being carried home by her subordinates, one of her officers goes out of their way to report her injury directly and immediately to Kamaji.

He arrives in the infirmary before the medic has even finished wrapping her ankle. Sara can't even rise to acknowledge his presence properly, only straighten her back, stiffening against the urge to wince when that grinds her injured wing against the back of the chair.

"The operation was a success," she tells him, keeping her voice level even as the medic pulls the bandage tight. "We've captured the entire gang. Their leader is undergoing interrogation now."

"I'm glad to hear it," Kamaji says. "Are you all right? The Doushin told me your wing... it doesn't look good."

Sara looks straight ahead, poised to give her report as best she can. "I trained inadequately for the conditions in the field, and overestimated my ability to handle them. I will have to temporarily remove myself from field operations. That will make the Tenryou Commission's situation more difficult if any complicated matters come up, and I apologize. However, I am still fit to coordinate the Doushin's administrative affairs and handle concerns within the city."

"You can delegate the physical work to your subordinates until you recover. This is a good opportunity to season some of our new officers. If anything serious arises, I *am* the Provisional Clan Head, and willing to take personal responsibility."

Which is in theory his duty--but Sara is accustomed to being Takayuki's right hand, the reason he didn't *have* to handle what he assigned her to personally, even if she had once or twice failed him in that role. She doesn't let herself think, sitting here directly in front of him, that Kamaji also lacks the experience to handle very serious Doushin affairs on his own, but certain conversations with Masahito do impinge vaguely upon her dismay. What matters is not his capability, but her responsibility to manage this department of the Commission, and that he currently considers her unable to do so.

"It will be useful for determining which officers are ready for more advanced duties," Sara agrees. It isn't her place to argue, especially with the results of her own failures. The medic has moved to her wing, prodding at it cautiously, and Sara grits her teeth against a stab of pain.

Kamaji smiles at her. Then he looks at the medic at work, and his smile fades. "How bad is it?"

"I'm not sure, Lord Kujou," the man says. "I've never treated a tengu's wing before. I think I can splint it, but I don't know how well it will heal."

"I don't see how it would be any different from my ankle," Sara says. "I have broken bones before. So long as it's properly aligned and held straight, I've always healed well."

---

The ankle heals faster. Sara is on her feet again within three weeks, though the medics are firm about limiting how much she walks about, and free of their restrictions in six. Her wing, though, lags behind.

It hurts at every slight bump against the back of a chair or a too-close wall, hurts jagged and sharp the first time she grasps a would-be escapee from an unwary Doushin by the arm and he turns and strikes her, and burns bitter and aching if she sits or stands for too long without finding something on which to prop the unwieldy limb up. The medics attempt a frame of bamboo that leaves it stuck awkwardly out; Sara has to discard that after a day of turning sideways to pass through doorways and feeling a fool in front of her men. At no point do they feel it's knit enough to abandon the splint and exercise it again.

A few days after that she's summoned to the Almighty Shogun's presence regarding some aspects of the palace's security. She can feel the Shogun's eyes on her splinted wing, impossible to fold completely against her back, for much of the discussion. Fortunately, the Shogun doesn't force her to recount her mistakes and explain her condition.

Instead, the next day Kamaji summons her to his office and opens with, "I received a message from Her Excellency yesterday regarding your wing." The mortification is so immediate that Sara almost doesn't hear him continue, "Once I explained everything, she arranged for help from Guuji Yae."

That explains the shrine maiden standing in the corner--not one of the bright-eyed young women or sweetly maternal figures who serve the public, but a grey-haired old woman with a lined face and keen eyes. She steps forward before Sara is able to suggest any place private for this examination and begins examining Sara's wing.

"They call this a splint," the woman mutters, and begins to undo it, her gnarled hands steady and sure.

As this was the Shogun's will, Sara simply extends her wing as far as she can when instructed and stands impassive as the woman pokes and prods at it, much more confident than the medics but no more gentle. Kamaji watches with unaccountable anxiety. His expression makes Sara have to breathe deep to quell some of her own. She has no idea what results the Shogun may wish from this examination, nor what instructions she may have given Kamaji regarding Sara's disposition if it does not go well.

Grasping the outer edges of Sara's wing, the woman flexes the joint to its fullest extension, pushing it so far past the point of comfort that Sara can't hold back a gasp as strained and swollen muscles complain. Then she folds it in to the same extent, almost as tightly as Sara has ever pinned them to her back. It can't quite make the full pivot in either direction.

"It never healed properly the last time," the woman says, waspishly. "Breaking it again has only made it worse. Did he have someone with a Vision heal it? I told him it should heal on its own."

"Heal what?" Sara asks, and at the same time Kamaji draws a breath in and says, "He did have a military medic with a healing Vision treat her. He said he didn't have time to wait for her to lie in bed."

The question's context falls into place. Sara knows she had needed tending, and healing, after her fall as a child, even with the Almighty Shogun's blessing to keep her alive. The haze of pain she'd been in afterwards had seemed to wrack every part of her, inspecific, but yes, she well could have broken a wing, plummeting from the air like that. Furthermore, she does recall the healer who tended her after she was brought to the Kujou stronghold, a man whose Vision's power had seemed another blessing on top of the one the Shogun had already given her.

"Not if they weren't used to hollow bones. They over-thickened it and impinged on the joint. And the way it's mending--have you been skimping on your grit?"

"My... grit?" Sara dislikes being so on the back foot in this conversation.

"Powder, sand, whatever you call it. Your mineral supplement. Don't tell me he listened to Mirei and you've been drinking *milk* all this time. I don't want to think about what that could do to your digestion."

"I don't have a mineral supplement."

The woman's grimace of disgust falls away a little too quickly to have been anything but performative, especially given the look that follows. Sara has seen medics giving dire news before. "That does explain why this isn't healing. And shattered into so many fragments, at that. Tengu are just like ravens in this respect. If they don't get enough grit in their diet, their bones go brittle. *Especially* the wings."

"Ah." Sara feels the air go out of her, and makes herself draw it back in. "What is the supplement composed of? I'll begin adding it to my diet immediately."

"Ground eggshells, or fish bones, or snail shells. But that's not going to fix this. It's started setting wrong, and it was already so fragmented that breaking it and resetting it would be a fool's errand. You needed to have been eating your grit the whole time to hope that this could be mended now, especially with that earlier break."

"Are you saying that it won't heal?" Kamaji asks, sounding agonized. Sara wonders again what instructions the Shogun may have given him.

"Not properly. Not such that she'll be much of a flier ever after."

Sara holds herself very still against the wave of despair. She is a competent warrior and an able servant of the shogun without her wings; she's served in that way her entire adult life. There should be no import to being told that she must continue to do so. Even if the issues with the joint preclude a tengu's proper flight, perhaps she can glide, or a glider can be adapted to her, so she can continue to assist the Doushin as Kamaji wishes. Even if the Almighty Shogun desires her wings mended... surely Sara's service has been sufficiently loyal that the Shogun will not reject her for this alone. Even if that disastrous flight had begun full of joy, the satisfaction in carrying out her duties should eclipse this strange sense of loss at something she had for years voluntarily put aside.

The woman seems to sense something in her stillness, though Sara knows she's kept her feelings off her face. "Honestly, I'm surprised this hasn't happened well before this, the number of battles you've been in."

"I've never flown in battle," Sara corrects her, voice flat. "This was the first time I've attempted to fly in the field."

"Why," the woman asks, looking at her in disbelief, "would a *tengu warrior* stay grounded?"

Sara holds her tongue, because she knows the answer. She knows it, and yet to say it would be to disparage Takayuki--to suggest that he had forbidden her to fly, when he never had, when he had never said a word on the subject one way or the other. He had only frowned.

He had only impatiently had her healed in a way this woman, familiar with ravens' wings and apparently with tengu's, had advised against. He had only disregarded the same woman's instructions on her diet, knowing that it would be to her detriment should she attempt to take to the air. He had only put her in a position that destined her, when she did try to take wing, to inevitably fall back to the ground.

"We'll find a solution to this," Kamaji says, determined in that way Sara has always admired, as if she, too, would be cause to challenge the Almighty Shogun if he had to. The words barely register as what Sara had always thought her understanding of the situation shifts once again.

Takayuki has never had to tell Sara she isn't permitted to fly. He's built that limitation into her very bones.

#i don't know why i want to drag sara's brothers into everything i write for her but the urge is inexorable so i just let it happen #see previously-posted meme etc.#i did bird medical research on this but not a LOT of medical research so i tried to vague over the specifics but please forgive errors #asked and answered #why not meme i guess #kujou sara deserves nice things #ascended fic

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chiropteracupola · 15 days ago

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There's a rider on the road / There's calamity a-waiting to unfold / There is poison in the well / There's the augur of a distant ringing bell / It says: hold, hold, hold your ground...

my half of that art trade with the wonderful @aranov! I've had an excellent time reading through the various adventures of Andrew O'Rourke — all the various permutations of his dynamic with Cordelia French and Dr. Jhandir delighted me so much that I couldn't finish this piece without drawing all three of them!

#em draws stuff #london-in-the-air #this got OUT OF HAND to a SEVERE DEGREE and I HAD SO MUCH FUN #the collage aesthetic of the older visuals from these stories are v fun so I've done my own take on that for this!#look. I had the excuse to play to Several of my strengths artistically and so I did.#six or seven layers of old print and engravings and a grungy scanner error page from the college newspaper archive #entire image was just piling more stuff into this canvas while laughing maniacally and kicking my feet #and also I think medical malpractice is one of the funnest things that a character can do so How could I leave jhandir out #you see.#caption lyrics from starwatcher decemberists even though this process was entirely soundtracked by the dreadnoughts. so ends.

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sexycornenthusiast · 2 months ago

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I love komaeda but for some reason that love manifests exclusively as death wishes. I see him and start giggling and kicking my feet and then the first thing I say is "omg I hope he gets more illnesses 😍"

#i just think he'd look so pretty getting his head bashed in with a metal pipe <3 #danganronpa #super danganronpa 2 #sdr2 goodbye despair #sdr2 #nagito komaeda #“average hpa student has 3 terminal illnesses” factoid actually just statistical error #average hpa student has zero terminal illnesses. komaeda who lives in a cave and takes 10000 medications a day is an outlier #and should not have been counted

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postcrashcurly · 28 days ago

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I don't know much about 'skin things' but I do have a little bit of information on it for those who are interested! (I hope you don't mind me using your comment). I'll be supplementing my knowledge with some research under the read more.

Skin grafting is a dermatological procedure utilized to facilitate wound closure.

We'll talk about some commonly used techniques:

1. Split-Thickness Skin Grafts (STSG) are composed of the epidermic and a superficial part of the dermis. These grafts are commonly used to cover large wounds, burns, and areas of skin loss. They are thinner than full-thickness grafts, which allows them to cover larger areas.

2. Full-Thickness Skin Grafts (FTSG) contain both the full epidermis and the dermis. These grafts are typically used for smaller wounds in areas where aesthetics and durability are essential, such as the face, hands, or neck. Since FTSGs retain the full dermal layer, they offer better cosmetic outcomes, including improved texture, pigmentation, and reduced scarring compared to split-thickness grafts. They also tend to resist contracture better, making them ideal for regions requiring flexibility. - FTSGs are more complex because they require a well-vascularized wound bed to survive and heal. - FTSGs are the most commonly used graft.

3. Composite Skin Grafts are usually small and include a combination of skin and underlying tissues, such as fat, cartilage, or muscle. These grafts are used to reconstruct areas where multiple tissue types are needed to restore both form and function, such as the nose, ears, or fingertips. - Composite skin grafts which combine allogeneic dermis and an expanded autologous epidermis can effect rapid wound closure.

It is further broken down by the following:

Permanent Skin Grafts

1. Autografts (autologous graft): skin collected from the patient 2. Isograft (syngeneic graft): skin collected from a genetically identical donor (twin)

Temporary Skin Grafts

1. Allocrafts (heterologous graft): skin from a cadaver (living donors are possible) 2. Xenograft (heterograft): skin from another species

Can be Temporary OR Permanent

1. Synthetic skin substitutes: use of manufactured skin - The only technique that is permanent is cultured epithelial autograft (CEA), which is essentially a skin graft grown from a patient's own skin cells.

NO NON-SELF TISSUE IS GUARANTEED TO COMPLETELY AVOID DEATH OR REJECTION.

Transplant Rejection: a patients immune system identifies the graft as a foreign body, which triggers an immune response to get "rid" of the tissue.

Skin implant compatibility is based on three highly polymorphic MHC genes (HLA-A, HLA-B, and HLA-C) that encode proteins and are a part of the Human Leukocyte Antigen (HLA) system. This system identifies foreign bodies.

Knowing this, the use of modified donor animals, such as pigs, to provide transplantable organs, is gaining some renewed research. It involves excising the genes in the pig that are most responsible for the rejection reaction after transplantation. However, finding these genes and effectively removing them is a challenge.

The use of autologous skin grafts is the most common approach in the treatment of chronic wounds. However, in the case of deep and/or large wounds or with extensive severe burns, the use of autografts is limited, and either allogeneic (from cadaver) or xenogeneic skin grafts are used for transplantation.

The use of allogenic/xenogenic tissue carries a high risk of graft rejection, limiting their clinical applications.

Tissue Engineering

Advanced therapies for chronic wounds involve application of bioengineered artificial skin substitutes to overcome graft rejection as well as topical delivery of mesenchymal stem cells to reduce inflammation and accelerate the healing process.

Photo shows potentially ideal artificial skin graft:

Modern treatment includes skin tissue engineering aiming to produce bioengineered biomaterial-based artificial skin grafts. Therefore, the main roles of bioengineered skin grafts is to supply oxygen (by being oxygen permeable), keep the wound from dehydration, promote healing, and prevent infections. - Depending on the type of biomaterial used for the production of artificial skin grafts, they may function as skin equivalents providing temporary wound covers or permanent skin substitutes. - When the biomaterials are pre-seeded or have cells incorporated within their matrix, they are classified as cellular artificial skin grafts, whereas biomaterials without or deprived of cells are defined as acellular artificial skin grafts.

Here are some current commercially available synthetic skin grafts I found applicable to Curly's injuries:

Definitions for Clarity: 1. Epidermal: Pertaining to the outermost layer of the skin. 2. Cellular Content: the complex structures and biomolecules that make up cells, the smallest units of life. 3. Acellular: not consisting of, divided into, or containing cells. 4. Fibroblasts: a cell in connective tissue which produces collagen and other fibers. 5. Keratinocytes: an epidermal cell which produces keratin (a fibrous protein forming the main structural constituent of hair).

Articles to Reference

Organ Transplantation and Rejection by Libretexts biology. LINK

(CW: Images) Skin Grafting by Joseph Prohaska and Christopher Cook. LINK

A Concise Review on Tissue Engineered Artificial Skin Grafts for Chronic Wound Treatment: Can We Reconstruct Functional Skin Tissue In Vitro? by Agata Przekora LINK

Composite skin graft: frozen dermal allografts support the engraftment and expansion of autologous epidermis by E L Heck, P R Bergstresser, C R Baxter LINK

#curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing #mouthwashing theories #leo vomits medical jargon #i didnt proof read this if there are errors you dont see them

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