#prompt stab wound

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC When a Bird Hits Your Window

Written for: Whumptober, prompt 6. NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong |  "It's not my blood."

He wakes up to a loud sound of breaking glass.

Yet, his first instinct - turn intangible and sink down through both the bed and the floor - is cut off shortly by a quiet, painful groan that follows it.

Danny blinks a few times, adjusting to the darkness in the room, and slowly sits up on the bed, listening in carefully. Someone broke into his kitchen through the window, that much he figured, but who, and, more importantly, why?

The groan turns into a moan, then something softer - a sob? a whimper? - and then there's some kind of shuffling. Danny hears the broken glass screeching over the tile floors.

Like someone is crawling over it.

Okay, definitely not a robber, then. Or, maybe it is, but a really unlucky one.

Danny stands up from his bed, phasing through the blanket in order to make as little noise as possible, and quietly makes his way through the hallway and to the kitchen door. Thankfully, he left it open in the evening, so peeking in is fairly easy-

He barely holds himself from gasping.

The thought of calling someone - police, 911, ambulance - is still only forming in his head, when his body is already moving forward. Danny kneels in front of the body on the floor, not sure what to do or where to start.

That is... a vigilante. An injured vigilante on his kitchen floor, lying face down, a hundred glass shards scattered around him. It looks almost pretty - the shards reflect the moonlight from the window, making the shadows look even darker than they are.

Danny pays no attention to the twisted beauty of it, instead biting his cheek from the inside and carefully touching the vigilante's shoulder. The guy flinches from the touch, shifts in his place, and raises his head up to look at Danny.

"Who-" he starts, his breaths quick and shallow, but the question is cut off by a pained wince. Now that Danny can see his face - sans the eyes because of the mask, yes - he notices that the guy is barely older than him.

And, now that he thinks about it, he's rather pretty.

Wrong thought, very wrong, entirely not fitting the situation. He needs to get his shit together.

"Come on, up you go," Danny mutters and leans forward, grabbing the vigilante by his armpits and raising him up. A dark, almost black puddle is left on the tiles where the guy landed.

"I'm not-" he starts protesting, and Danny suddenly remembers his name as he throws the guy's arm over his shoulder and all but drags him from the kitchen to the couch in the living room. Red Robin.

"Yes, you are," Danny cuts him off, not bothering with waiting for the end of that sentence. Red Robin whimpers. It's a sad, hurt sound, and Danny, unfortunately, knows it intimately - he's made it himself a lot of times before he metaphorically hung up his cape.

"I need to go," the vigilante insists as Danny unloads him on the couch and steps to the side to turn on the lamp on the table. And, when he looks back to Red Robin's chest, he barely holds back a curse.

"Unless you plan on going to a hospital, you don't," he argues, and, in two wide steps, reaches the shelf where he keeps the first aid. The zipper doesn't budge, and Danny bites his lower lip, throwing a quick glance to Red Robin. To hell with it, the guy is clearly too out of it to notice. Besides, it's not like being a meta - even if technically he is not - is a crime.

It's just a little intangibility to get the gauze.

"I don't need a hospital," Red argues back very confidently and tries to stand from the couch. Only he sways on his feet and almost falls, and Danny rushes back to him, catching his shoulder and sitting the vigilante back down.

"Really?" He asks, trying not to sound too sarcastic. That's how he deals with panic, sue him. "What about the blood?"

Red Robin blinks, staring at him owlishly. Is he concussed? He probably is, shit, he crashed through Danny's window at full speed. But before he can ask or say anything else, the vigilante looks down to his own chest.

Right to where it is currently covered in blood, with glass chards sticking out of his hero uniform, and a bloody fucking stab wound on his stomach. Danny distantly thinks about his ruined couch.

"It's not my blood," the guy tells him, not batting an eye. Danny holds back the urge to slap him, instead just taking a deep breath and leaning down to look Red Robin straight in the eyes. Lenses of his mask. Whatever.

"Okay, listen here. I didn't plan on saving anyone today, I actually didn't plan on saving anyone in any foreseeable future. So if you want me to throw you back out the window, I can arrange that in, like, less than ten seconds. Do you want to go back out the window?"

...and, maybe, he should have thought about the consequences better before he started his attempt at intimidation. Because, instead of saying anything, Red Robin leans in forward and boops him on the nose. With his own nose.

"Boop," he tells Danny quietly, with a lopsided, dorky grin on his lips.

And then, uncaring for the sheer bafflement he caused, he drops his head on the back of the couch, his whole body slumping down. Danny hastily checks his pulse and breathing, but, no, the guy is still alive. Just unconscious.

"I'll take that as a no, then," he sighs and finally gets to work on the vigilante's wounds.

He decidedly does not acknowledge how his cheeks feel like they are on fire.

[the-broken-pen]

Hello! Heard you were open for writing request? Had this idea in mind about a villain who's Russian and a hero who's falling for villain's accent? Maybe a bit of flirty banter as they fight 👀 your choice tho! Have a fun spring break ☀

The hero was pretty sure the villain was actually trying to kill them this time.

“Hey, don’t aim for the face, okay? It’s the money maker.”

The villain raised one eyebrow–and aimed for the hero’s face.

“Oh come on,” the hero groaned. “That’s just uncalled for.”

“Really? Is it now?”

If the hero had better judgment, they would have said something snarky back, or attempted to get the upper hand. Instead, in a move uncoordinated and wrought with embarrassment, they tripped over their own feet and blushed.

The hero was used to pretty. They were used to gorgeous.

But they had never expected to be attracted to someone’s accent of all things, and it was driving them mad.

“Yep, pretty sure it is,” they managed. They had to dodge halfway up the wall to avoid the villain’s next blow.

“You’re awfully chatty today,” the villain said, and the hero was going to lose their mind–

“Is this affection?” The hero blurted, and contemplated throwing themself off the building to spare both of them. “Because it feels like affection.”

“I don’t know,” the villain shrugged. Their mouth tipped up slightly, gone in a flash between one second and the next. “Do you want it to be?”

The hero froze. “You–I–” and found themself blinking up at the sky, the villain’s hand around their wrist. “Did you just judo flip me?” They wheezed, and the villain grinned.

“You’re blushing.”

“Yeah, because you just knocked the wind out of me. Excuse me for going red with oxygen loss–” the hero cut themself off with a cough, lungs protesting every word, and tugged the villain down to crash into the pavement beside them.

“Let me rephrase; You’ve been blushing this entire time.”

“It’s cold.”

“It’s July.”

“A very cold July.”

“If you’re going to lie,” the villain said, and truly, the hero was lucky they hadn’t had a knife pulled on them yet, “Do it well.”

The hero buckled the villain’s knees. Petty? Yes.

Satisfying? A good reprieve to try and get the blush that flared every time the villain spoke to subside? Also yes.

“Real smooth,” the villain rolled their eyes, pushing themself to their feet. “So, what is it.”

“Was that a question, or–”

“My winning personality?”

The villain was studying them with far too much care.

“Aren’t you supposed to be robbing a bank or something?” They said half-desperately.

“Smile? Laugh?” The villain paused for a moment, catching the hero’s punch as if it was nothing more than a mosquito–which was insulting, to say the least–before their face cleared of any confusion.

“Ah,” the villain said, and oh the hero was so screwed, because they knew that look. That look appeared regularly in their dreams. It was the villain’s signature ‘I figured something out and I’m going to use it to do nefarious things’ look. Their ‘I’m smarter than you and I’m about to prove it in an effortlessly ruthless maneuver’ look.

The hero saw it far too often.

“‘Ah’ what.”

The villain, damn them, grinned, releasing the hero’s hand.

“Accent.”

Any air that the hero had managed to regain after the judo flip escaped from them like they were a sinking ship.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“No,” the hero said, cursing every single moment of their life that had led up to this one. Maybe they really should have become a lawyer– “I’m just flabbergasted by how dumb that sentence was.”

Flabbergasted. Flabbergasted. Who the hell says flabbergasted?!

“This is cute,” the villain remarked as they drew a knife. They gestured with it towards the hero’s undoubtedly fire engine red face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this flustered.”

“I’m not flustered, I’m–”

“Flabbergasted?” The villain suggested wryly, and truly, the fact that this situation was funny in a hopeless and pathetic way was not helping. The accent absolutely was not helping either.

The hero truly had nothing to say to that, staring at the villain, the two of them impromptu statues.

“You like me,” the villain teased. “And my accent.”

The hero was not proud of what they did next.

Considering their life, it wasn’t the worst thing they had ever done out of embarrassment.

A close second, though.

The villain smirked, and in a move far more elegant than they had ever thought themself possible, the hero slid under the villain’s arm, snagging the knife from the villain’s hand as they went—and planted it into the villain’s side.

The villain blinked, hand going to their side. The hero blushed—

Finally, in the single coherent thought they had managed in seemingly their entire life, they did something not embarrassingly pathetic.

The hero bolted away, into side streets and alleys, to the sound of the villain’s pained and endlessly amused laughter.

“Real smooth,” the villain called after them, voice echoing between the buildings. “You’re handling this quite well.”

The villain was never going to let them live this down.

[whumpdaydreamerx]

Whumper stabbing Whumpee and proceeding to wipe the blood from the knife on Whumpee’s jacket, staring into their eyes as they do so. All while they lay there gasping and moaning in pain.

[serickswrites]

I'm Here

Warnings: captivity, torture, stab wound, bleeding out, rescue, unclear character status

Whumpee lay on their back, their hands weakly pressing on the gaping stab wound in their belly. They could feel their hot blood pooling on them and around them, but only just. The world was growing darker and colder, the sounds of Whumper growing fainter and fainter.

They stared up at the ceiling. It was the only thing they could manage to stare at. Their eyes and ears could no longer keep up with the world around them. But they knew things were happening. But Whumpee couldn't be bothered to respond.

"No, no, no," Caretaker's voice came distantly. "No you don't get to do this, Whumpee. I'm here. I'm right here. Stay here. With me. Please, Whumpee."

Caretaker's voice was close and yet so far away. Whumpee could feel Caretaker's warm hands on their own, pressing hard into the wound. Whumpee didn't have the air or energy to cry out.

Caretaker was here. Whumper wasn't. At least they got to see Caretaker once more.

"None of that, Whumpee. Keep your eyes open. Keep awake. I'm here. I'm here. Please, stay here with me," Caretaker's words were urgent and desperate.

Whumpee wanted to listen. Wanted to do as Caretaker begged. But they were so tired and so cold. Their body ached from the torture they had endured at Whumper's hands. They wanted to stay. But they weren't sure they could.

"Here! I'm here! Stay here with me, Whumpee, please!" Caretaker's voice was so far away as Whumpee felt themself sink into the awaiting dark.

[truths33k3r4]

DAY 13- Realizing They’re Poisoned after the Battle is Long Over” - SIW

(Sketch form for now!)

(TW for stab wound, blood, poison, collapsing)

Nice to finally put the spotlight on my favorite tough guy, Raph. :) This comic took a WHILE to complete, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out! (So far~) I may add or subtract panels once I finish these sketches digitally, but we’ll see. :)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

[skyward-floored]

Me: okay I’m going to actually work on figuring out ideas for other whumptober days, I will succeed I will prevail—

Day 2: >:)

[lostclouds-world]

A: (crawls in with a knife in their chest whilst bleeding profusely) h-help me

B: why do you almost always have something in you whenever we meet. last time it was a cock and I even doubted anything else could be worse than that, (pulls knife from their chest) but I guess I stand corrected

[thegirlwholived1213]

Villains don't play fair

CW: blood, stab wound, sadistic antagonist

"You know, I expected a bit more of a fight, kid. Gotta say, I'm a little disappointed. however, I think I know what your problem is." Villain stalked forward and gazed down at Hero's pale and blood-soaked form, who had managed to prop themselves up against the alley wall.

Villain crouched, wrist resting on their knee while the other cupped Hero's bruised cheek. Hero glared through the tears pooling in their eyes and Villain clicked their tongue, eyes trailing over Hero's face covered with a sheen of cold sweat.

"Your problem is, Hero, that you play fair."

Villain stood, towering over Hero for a moment before landing a strong kick to the hilt of the shining dagger still shoved in Hero's stomach. Hero brought shaking hands to the wound, slumping to the ground with an agonizing cry.

"But villains don't play fair, now do they?"

(p.s. do you like my writing? I would love it if you would just pop in and say hi, or even better, maybe make a request? I'm still new to Tumblr but I would love to hear from you! ^^)

[withdrawingramen]

thinking of this oddly specific whump trope about an orator / political figure whumpee angering a crowd through their words or speech & cue the chaos. team tries desperately to get whumpee out of the mess, pushing and pulling against the masses, shoving and slapping away hands reaching out for whumpee but amongst all this whumpee feels a sudden sharp pain in their abdomen and there lies that knife and the blood dripping down slowly and the rabid eyes of the assaulter meet whumpee's pained ones as they stare at the blood gushing out of them or on the contrary they feel a muzzle of a gun press against their abdomen as it goes off with the silencer intact, all while collapsing in the arms of the assassin in agony

[constantvariations]

thinking about the adam's red sclera you were talking about. if his aura is constantly trying to prevent it from getting worse, would someone with aura amp semblance like jaune be able to cure it? it wouldn't give him back his vision, but stop the chronic pain maybe?

it also gets me thinking about the fact that blake has chronic pain on her scar where he stabbed her (i cant recall where the chronic pain fact was mentioned nor implied, so i cant really tell if it's canon or fanon), which got talked about a lot back when the volume was out

In theory, I don't see why an Aura boost couldn't help cure an infection. It completely closed Weiss's injury and that was complete impalement open to the air! A true feast for bacteria. I imagine even modern doctors would struggle with a wound like that

Once again, though, we bump against the reality that a) Adam shouldn't have this infection after literal years. (6 years minimum if my math from the comics is right.) It should've either been healed or taken out to prevent more damage, and b) Auras aren't consistent throughout RWBY because the writers care more about Events than Story. In some cases, Aura will stand up to incredible amounts of force and others be shattered in a single hit, even with the same character! (Ex. Ghira in the v5 fight vs the ambush in the Adam short/Yang in pretty much any fight yet going down in a single hit from Neo in v8.) Scars are just another Event for the writers, story and logic be damned. (Seriously, how the fuck did Cinder lose both her arm and eye? I don't think the writers know. Or care.)

As for Blake's wound, that is 110% fanon. I have no idea how a stab just above the hip would lead to chronic pain. Perhaps in flashbacks or nightmares she would relive the pain, but unless there were complications with the healing (considering she was leaping on rooftops shortly after, this is not the case), that should be the only pain she gets. I can only hope someone made an ignorant mistake rather than deliberately foisting more suffering onto Blake just so Adam would look worse

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee thought rescue would go smoothly, with them seeing their friends again and being happy- but it quickly became far more compl than that. The caretaker can only hold on to the whumpee as they try to stop the bleeding, both of them waiting for help to arrive, and the caretaker keeps trying to quietly comfort the whumpee as best they can.

[courtneygacha]

Who

Tw: Stabbing, blood loss, unconsciousness, unclear character status

Whumpee fell onto the couch, holding a jacket to their side. Underneath was a stab wound that wasn’t fatal (yet), but was bleeding freely. Whumpee could feel the warmth of their blood behind the cloth and it was making them nauseous. They were took weak to put enough pressure on it… surely they would faint sometime soon.

They took shaky breaths through their teeth, trying to focus on anything but their injury. The room was dark and humid. They couldn’t see but they were sure some of their blood was dripping onto the floor.

Just then, the light flicked on and Caretaker stood down the hallway.

“Whumpee? I didn’t know you were home.” They said, walking closer.

Whumpee didn’t say anything; they couldn’t speak through their pain. Caretaker’s smile faded once they saw the jacket. They froze, trying to register what they were looking at.

“Whumpee…?” They said uncertainly. Caretaker rushed to their side when Whumpee let out a groan in response and their head flopped backwards.

“Whumpee?! What happened?? What…”

Caretaker’s horror was immeasurable once they moved the jacket and saw the blood-stained clothes underneath. They looked back at Whumpee’s face, who was very much in pain and wincing with every movement. Caretaker put the jacket back and forced pressure onto Whumpee’s side. They let out a yelp of pain.

“I know that hurts but it’s keeping you alive right now… Whumpee, what happened?!” Caretaker asked frantically and they fumbled with their free hand, trying to call for help.

“I-I got s-stabbed…” Whumpee said, letting their head fall back again before Caretaker lifted it back up to keep them from falling unconscious.

“No kidding, I mean by who? Did you see who?” Caretaker asked again, finally getting hold of the emergency number.

As Caretaker told the operators their location and situation, Whumpee’s vision grew darker and darker slowly. Their breathing became irregular. They were going to die of blood loss, they were sure of it.

“C-C-Caretaker… I don’t f-feel so g-good…” They stuttered.

Caretaker’s focus snapped back to them as they made Whumpee hold their head up again. “No, don’t start with that.” They said, putting more pressure onto Whumpee’s side. The jacket was soaking up some blood and leaving marks on Caretaker’s hand like they were being dry brushed. “You’re not dying, you’re fine.” They tried to assure them.

But no matter what Caretaker said, it wasn’t helping clear Whumpee’s vision and give them the strength to stay awake. The more pressure Caretaker put on their wound, the more Whumpee winced in agony.

“The authorities are almost here Whumpee, can you stay awake a few moments longer?” Caretaker pleaded, seeing the color drain from their friend’s face.

“S-S-Sure…”

“Do you remember who stabbed you?”

“…”

“Did you get chance to look at them?”

“…”

“Whumpee, answer me!”

But Whumpee was dazed as their breathing slowed dangerously and their eyelids began to fall.

“Whumpee! Stay awake!” Caretaker fought with them, “Who did this to you?!”

There was a banging on the door, alerting them that the paramedics have arrived. They looked back at Whumpee: Eyes closed and pale.

Caretaker had to leave their side to open the door for the doctors, who swarmed Whumpee once they saw their state.

Caretaker watched blankly at the scene played out, with the doctors announcing Whumpee wasn’t alive and trying to resurrect them.

Caretaker looked at their stained clothes and hands, moist with the blood of their friend. Their mind became fuzzy as they only thought of one thing: “Who did this to you…?”

Taglist: @whumpy-whump-fanfics @bookbutterfly9 @whumpdreamz @diamond-flavored-whump @whatwhumpcomments

[whumpdaydreamerx]

That moment when Whumpee has an injury on their abdomen – possibly severe. Caretaker carrying them into their bedroom and Whumpee gets set down on the bed too hard.

Their back and head connecting with the mattress jostling their wound, eliciting a thud and a loud groan from Whumpee. “Aahh”, they hiss as their legs involuntarily stretch out, hands searching for something to hold onto.

[serickswrites]

What Happened?

Warnings: betrayal, knife, stabbing, blood, wound, collapse, unconsciousness

"There you are," Team Leader said with a smile as they saw Teammate Two approaching. "You're late, that's not like you, what happened?"

Teammate Two's face was guarded as they approached. "I got distracted and then traffic....you know how it is."

Team Leader smiled softly. "I do. I'm glad you're here. The others will be joining soon, too. It must be a helluva traffic jam." Team Leader started to unpack the large picnic basket they had on the table. "We won't get started without them, but at least we can get it all set up."

Teammate Two didn't respond. They merely stood by Team Leader. Team Leader noticed how quiet they were, how they barely engaged. How unlike themself they were. "Are you ok, Teammate Two?"

Teammate Two frowned. "I've had a rough morning. I could really use a hug."

Team Leader looked at Teammate Two, really looked at them. Teammate Two looked on the verge of tears. Team Leader opened their arms wide. "I would love to give you a hug."

Teammate Two walked towards Team Leader's open embrace. Team Leader wrapped their arms tightly around Teammate. Two--just the way Teammate Two liked it. Teammate Two's lips brushed Team Leader's ear as they spoke. "I really am sorry about this, Team Leader."

Before Team Leader could respond, they felt the knife go in just below their ribs. Their breath caught in their chest as the pain threatened to overwhelm them. The pain of being stabbed. Mostly, the pain of Teammate Two's betrayal.

Team Leader's arms fell away as they felt Teammate Two pull out the blade. Their body felt so weak as their head swam. They started to stumble back, but Teammate Two wrapped their arms around Team Leader. "It's nothing personal. It had to be one of you. I'm sorry it was you. I didn't want it to. But you were the first one here."

"Wh-Wh-Why?" Team Leader managed to choke out around the blood filling their mouth.

Teammate Two pulled back, their eyes now cold and distant. "It had to be one of you. You just happened to get here first."

Team Leaders knees gave out and Teammate Two released them. Team Leader couldn't breathe around the pain or the blood filling their mouth. Couldn't breathe around the hurt of betrayal filling them. And as Team Leader's world began to go dark and Teammate Two disappeared from their field of vision, Team Leader couldn't breathe around the fear of what Teammate Two had planned for the rest of their team.

[blackrosesandwhump]

#18 Knife

From @whumpster-dumpster's 100 Drabble Challenge.

CW: stabbing, blood, hero whumpee

With a flash of his twin blades, the young hero slit a thin line on either side of villain’s neck and leapt back, panting a little. “I guess I’m better than everyone thought. Or you’re weaker.” He grinned at villain. “Looks like I won.”

Villain lightly touched the bleeding cuts just under his jawline. “Then we’re done here.” Like lightning, he closed the gap between them and buried a knife in hero’s stomach. Hero exhaled hard and looked down, shock draining the color from his face.

Villain stepped back, his fingers brushing the bloodied handle.

“You should have sliced deeper.”

[irondadmadlads]

Irondad Prompt #131:

Tony: Peter, you’re not going to school today! You’re injured!

Peter: I was only lightly stabbed!