#whumperless whump event day 1: emergency first aid

[accidentalcookies]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 1

self-done stitches / alcohol as sanitizer / "It's just a scratch, I've had worse."

tw: blood, but i think that kind of goes without saying, haha

caretaker: celestinus

whumpee: shaoyuan

no oc intro post yet because i am a chronic procrastinator, but someday i'll link it 😅 for some context, both celestinus and shaoyuan are part of a mafia/criminal underworld-type thing run by aristides, with celestinus as aristides' personal bodyguard and just general medic, and sy as aristides' assassin. this is relatively early on in their relationship, after celestinus has warmed to sy, but before it has been made clear to sy that the others actually care about him as a person. there's also a brief mention of some sort of technological enhancement that sy has, which i hope to elaborate on in future fics, but for now, you can essentially think of it as just your bog standard sci-fi enhanced human-type thing (strength, speed, healing factor, etc.)

enjoy!

---

The elevator doors slid open—and, catching sight of what was inside, Celestinus groaned.

“No,” he said. “No, you have got to be kidding me.”

Shaoyuan raised an eyebrow at him. “‘Hi, Shaoyuan,’” he deadpanned. “‘It’s nice to see you, Shaoyuan.’ I’ve been led to believe that that’s typical for greetings.”

Celestinus leveled him with an unamused stare. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

And just in case Shaoyuan didn’t get the gist, he pointedly swept his gaze down to his side, to where he had one hand pressed to a suspiciously dark patch on his clothing.

“No idea, actually,” he replied blandly. “Can I get through?”

The absolute gall of this man.

He reached in to take Shaoyuan’s arm—not the one that could have been holding in his internal organs, for all Celestinus knew.

But instead, his hand closed around air as Shaoyuan neatly sidestepped around him.

“Thanks,” he said, and turned to leave. “See you later.”

“Nope. We’re not playing this game.”

He dropped his bag and followed. In just a few words, Shaoyuan had already eaten up half the hallway with his lanky stride, and didn’t slow his pace as Celestinus caught up either, forcing him to do a sort of awkward half-jog just to stay at his side.

Shaoyuan didn’t turn. “What game?”

“The one where you swear up and down that you’re fine, and then I have to peel your sorry ass off the floor when you eat it.”

That had been a harrowing experience, loathe as Celestinus was to remember it. Aristides had only noticed because Shaoyuan, ever the most diligent member of this organization, had missed reporting in to him after his mission. When he’d gone searching, he found him flat on his face, bleeding out from a set of gunshot wounds—ones that normally would not have been a major problem, had his internal hardware not been compromised.

But it had been, and there was literally no one else left alive on the planet who knew how to un-compromise it, and so Celestinus had spent a long, stressful night playing “pin the tail on the donkey”—if you substituted the donkey with Shaoyuan and the tail with life.

“That was extenuating circumstances,” said the donkey, surprising absolutely no one with his wildly understated description. “There was an EMP involved.”

“That wasn’t extenuating circumstances, practically everyone tries to hit you with one nowadays,” Celestinus countered. “And the consequences were very much real and very much inconvenient and I’ll be damned if I have to deal with it again. What happened?”

“...It’s just a scratch,” he replied. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but that’s not what I asked.”

“Weren’t you about to do something for Aristides?” he asked. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Celestinus had been about to run an errand, true, but that was before something else took priority. Namely, corralling their resident idiot into letting him throw a first aid kit at him.

Preferably at his head. Patients were much more convenient to work with when they were unconscious.

“Really, beanpole?” he sighed.

Looked like he had no other choice. It was time for the big guns: appealing to Shaoyuan’s unwillingness to inconvenience others.

He looked back over his shoulder. “You dripped blood on the floor.”

“I know I didn’t,” Shaoyuan said.

Despite that, he still slowed to turn back, and in that moment of distraction, Celestinus’ hand shot out to yank Shaoyuan’s away from his side.

Things proceeded to devolve. Shaoyuan ducked to one side, then again as Celestinus lunged for him, then a third time as he lunged for him again, at which point Celestinus gave up, decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and jabbed him in the solar plexus.

As Shaoyuan wheezed and folded over, Celestinus pulled his hand away—and then  had to fight through the various layers of fancy clothing both he and Aristides preferred to find the bloodied skin below, yanking them into disarray.

Ever the joker, Shaoyuan croaked out, “Dinner first.”

“Ha hah, you’re so funny,” Celestinus deadpanned, staring down at a large gash that would most definitely need stitches. “This is not ‘just a scratch.'”

“It hasn’t breached the abdominal cavity,” he pointed out. “That’s a scratch.”

Celestinus sighed and let it go, knowing that trying to argue injury definitions with a man who thought breaching the abdominal cavity was a good indicator for when things were starting to become bad was a lost cause. “You’re coming with me.”

“Your errand–”

“Can wait. Keeping you from bleeding on the carpets is the priority.”

Shaoyuan looked pointedly at the ground. “I’m noticing a severe lack of carpets.”

“Oh, because bleeding on marble isn’t just as bad?” he asked sarcastically. “I’m helping whether or not you agree. All arguing’s gonna do is waste my time.”

He made direct eye contact with Shaoyuan and held it stubbornly, until finally the man relented and looked away.

“Fine,” he said.

Internally, Celestinus breathed a long sigh of relief. “Then come on,” he said.

---

tagging: @whumperless-whump-event

[whumpbug]

ITS FINALLY HERE!! THE EVENT!! YIPEE!! so this fic was written when i first made simon and archie so i decided this is them in their early days, when they weren't as close and just getting to know eachother. the boys!!!!

whumperless whump event day 1: emergency first aid! @whumperless-whump-event

alcohol as sanitizer / "it's just a scratch, i've had worse."

caretaker: Simon

whumpee: Archie

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Simon sighed contentedly as he finally sank into his well-worn sofa. Work was hectic. His commute was hectic.  Even the weather was hectic, considering the bus delays from the rain. After a long day, he was more than happy to let everything else fall away as he fused with the sofa for the foreseeable future.

He let his eyes slip closed.

..And then he heard the thud at his window.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me..” He murmured as he peeled his body out of its comfy spot.

He made his way to the back window of his apartment— the one right at the fire escape. He already had a idea of who was at his window at this ungodly hour, but he was still silently praying it was just a stray cat or something easy to deal with.

He had no such luck. He pushed up the window and scanned the area, but a weak cough drew his eyes to the floor of the platform.

Archie, the vigilante that had been chronically stopping by, flashed him a sheepish grin before it morphed into a wince.

“Surpriiise..” He squeaked.

Simon stared at him with an unamused expression, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.

So much for his relaxing night in.

“What brings you to my window sill this time?” Simon deadpanned, crouching through the window and kneeling beside Archie.

“Oh you know, the usual,” He started, grunting as he shifted slightly. “I’ll be out of your hair in no time, I promise..”

“I’ll bet.” Simon reached out a hand towards Archie. “Alright. Let’s get you up.”

A panicked expression flashed over Archie's face as he gulped quietly.

“How about we uh.. we take care of things here tonight..? Y’know.. just.. to speed things up..”

Simon tilted his head, cocking up an eyebrow.

"On the fire escape?"

"Mhm.."

“You do know I don’t have night vision, right? How am I supposed to treat your injuries if I can’t see them.”

“Oh I’m sure you can figure it out! We can always use a flashlight or.. or..” Archie said, face suddenly blanching.

In the dim streetlight, Simon finally noticed it. The dark stains on the metal platform and railings of the fire escape. The way Archie had yet to move a muscle since Simon came to the window. Even the thud that he had heard initially, which was uncharacteristic for Archie, who usually took to knocking politely when he could.

“Archie. Lift your shirt.” Simon's grave gaze poured down to Archie, who swallowed reflexively.

“I.. It’s really just a scratch, I’ve had worse—“

“Lift your shirt.”

Archie finally obliged with grumbles of “At least take me out to dinner first..” escaping his lips.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he peeled away the sticky fabric from his wound.

“Shit..” Simon whispered. The wound was.. atypical. Even in the low light, Simon could see the skin around it was angry and red and inflamed. It was on its way to infection for sure.

“It looks worse than it is..” Archie placated, but he was fooling no one. Especially not Simon, who’d been down this road with him a few times before.

“Sure, and that’s why you look like out about to keel over and die,” Simon said sarcastically. “Don’t move. I’m gonna go get the first-aid kit.”

“Wasn’t planning on.. going anywhere..” Archie panted. Despite trying to seem fine, Archie couldn’t deny that the wound hurt. It was taking more of a toll on him than he’d like to admit. So much so that he hadn’t even realized he dozed off until he heard Simon's soft footsteps on the metal platform.

“Don’t fall asleep just yet, okay?” Simon hummed, lightly shaking Archie's shoulder.

Archie only groaned, blinking at Simon.

“Here, I have a job for you. Can you hold the flashlight? Just point it at the wound,” Simon explained, pressing a small flashlight into his hand.

Simon could see now that Archie was a lot worse off than he was letting on. His face was sheet-white, and beads of sweat dripped down his brow. He had to act fast, and to do that, he needed to keep him awake, just enough to get him inside and patched up.

With the slightly shaky light held by Archie, Simon got a better view of what he was working with. He grimaced.

“Alright, I'll need to disinfect it before I start sutures,” Simon explained. “It’s going to hurt. All we have right now is alcohol.”

Archie whined just a bit. He'd used alcohol to clean smaller wounds, and even that was unbearable. He couldn’t imagine what this would feel like.

The next thing he knew, Simon was shoving rolled up gauze between Archie's teeth for him to bite down on. Archie was silently grateful.

Simon unscrewed the top of the bottle and sucked in a breath.

“I’m sorry..”

As soon as Simon splashed the liquid on the wound, Archie threw his head back with a silent scream as his teeth dug into the gauze. Tears pricked in his eyes and he writhed against the red-hot stinging. A pitiful whimper escaped him, before he could stop it, and he didn’t miss the way Simon's expression softened.

The sutures were done relatively quickly, which left Archie, utterly spent, lying limp against the railing of the fire escape. He wasn't sure he could move if he tried. 

“Cmon. Let’s get you inside..” Simon coaxed, standing up and bending at the waist to pick up Archie in a bridal carry. Usually, Archie would be vehemently against such an act, but the blood loss must have been getting to him because he found himself burying his face in the crook of Simon's neck, letting the warm arms lull him into a soft sleep.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[whump-for-comfort]

I will be attempting the @whumperless-whump-event! I'm going to try and do all prompts (some will be combined)

Day 1: Emergency First Aid / "It's just a scratch, I've had worse."

Characters: Generic (whumpee + caretaker)

Warnings: Implied/referenced self harm (nothing graphic), so this entry will be under the read more.

“It’s just a scratch, I’ve had worse.”

Caretaker bit back a sigh. Getting annoyed would help no one.

“I know you have,” they said patiently as they dabbed at Whumpee’s arm with the cotton wool pinched between tweezers. The anti-sceptic must have stung, but Whumpee barely flinched. Another sign they were slipping away, back into their head; a place where Caretaker could not reach them.

Blood still coated Whumpee’s fingertips. Caretaker still needed to wash it off.

Caretaker did sigh as they turned Whumpee’s arm over to examine the wound from all angles. It wouldn’t need stitches, but it still oozed sluggishly.

Caretaker unwrapped a large dressing and smoothed it over the wound, then they wrapped the arm in gauze to stop it from getting caught on anything. And hopefully deter Whumpee from trying to inflict a similar injury.

It wouldn’t really help - they had the other arm, but it served to help Caretaker feel a little better at the very least.

Caretaker gently wiped Whumpee’s fingertips with a washcloth, taking care to scrub under their fingernails where the blood clung on stubbornly.

“There,” they said, forcing a smile. “All better.”

It wasn’t all better, and Caretaker knew it. But there was little more they could do.

Whumpee said nothing and slumped down on the bed on their side, their knees to their chest. They hugged them tightly.

Caretaker could not help but place a firm kiss to Whumpee's forehead before packing away the first aid kit. They could do nothing else but stay by Whumpee's side. They hoped it would be enough.

[itsjustdg]

So I'm giving this my best shot because this @whumperless-whump-event is right up my alley. Day 1 is posted, and I actually really like how it came out!

Alcohol might not be the optimal choice to clean out a wound, but it's all they've got— and if Nolan doesn't act soon, Bradford isn't going to make it long enough to be rescued.

Day 1: "Emergency First Aid" Prompts: Alcohol as a sanitizer / "It's just a scratch; I've had worse." Fandom: The Rookie Characters: Tim Bradford, John Nolan

[little-piece-of-tamlin]

another @whumperless-whump-event late entry

prompt: day 1 - emergency first aid

contents: dicussion of injury, gore characters: Trinket (dnd OC), Zarak (dnd npc)

~~~

Trinket sees the way Zarak is limping ahead of him, breaking through the underbush of the thick, murky forest. His shoulders are tense and lopsided, his usual desaturated skin is practically grey and beading with sweat, his every step a barely contained wheeze. Trinket remembers the way the owlbear bit down on Zarak’s leg, tried its best to free the drow of one of his limbs. The wound must be a horrible mess of torn flesh and blood, tendons and bone tangling in with the muscle. He prays that his last, measely healing spell will hold out long enough.

[seth-whumps]

I MADE A WHUMP EVENT: get ready for July folks

welcome to the Whumperless Whump Event of July! for your sickfic, situational, and completely apersonal whump needs--comfort included, of course. follow @whumperless-whump-event for more information and details!

Image transcripts, tagging rules, and guidelines under the cut!

RULES

Any and all art types allowed (GIFs, drawings, music, writing, etc.)

No AI generated content allowed

OCs and Fandom works alike are welcome :)

Trigger and content tags required, even if the prompt explicitly requires the content (eg. Vomiting still needs the emetophobia tag)

NSFT and NSFW are allowed, if tagged appropriately. This blog will not reblog them, as minors do follow it. However, you're still free to write as you please :)

If enough interest is shown, I will make an Ao3 collection (edit: ao3 collection is made and can be found here)

Side note: please let me know if there's anything I can do to make this post or event more accessible. Should I put the image transcripts on the ID too? Is the formatting causing issues? What can I do?

This is not a contest, just an event. The only awards will be announcements for people who completed the whole darn thing. My entries will not receive any announcements or awards, because I'm hosting

TAGGING

Tag with, per example: #whumperless whump event day 1; #whumperless whump event; and (optional) #whumperless whump event day 1: alcohol as a sanitizer

Tag @whumperless-whump-event please! If not, I may not see it or be able to reblog it!

If desired, tag the medium you used

Trigger tag and content warn (including nsfw/nsft)

If posting early, tag with #wwe early entry. If posting late, tag with #wwe late entry. If posting just for fun, no need to tag these!

IMPORTANT:

There are NO OTHER RULES. Do one prompt! Do seven! Do 'em all! Repeat the same prompt six days in a row! Switch them around and do them all out of order! Post them eight months after the event is over! Finish the prompt list early! Write one long-ass story that deals with every prompt or do a one-sentence drabble for each one! Recommend your favorite scenes regarding the prompt! Write, draw, sing, play music, make playlists, do fic recs or show recs or episode recs or book recs, fucking crochet or something! FOLLOW THE VIBE. DO WHAT'S FUN.

Prompts (text):

Emergency First Aid: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

Like a record, baby: Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?”

It's every day bro: Chronic pain / Massage / “I'm used to it.”

Stealing my breath (give it back): Wheezing / Light-headed / “I'll count, you just breathe.”

Summer is a curse: Heat Stroke / Panting / “Why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

Accidental Cryotherapy: Falling through a frozen lake / Hypothermia / “Hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake.”

Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine / Light & Sound Sensitivity / “I can close the curtains…”

White and red handkerchief: Coughing up blood / Can't speak / “You just can't shake that cough, can you?”

Your work is never finished: Forced to work while ill / Workplace emergency / “...sit down, I'm calling HR.”

A minor annoyance: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / “I'm fine, I can work.”

It's going down (I'm yelling timber): Building collapse / Trapped under rubble / “I can't move my legs.”

It's just a pebble: Avalanche / Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.”

Lay down your sword: Fighting back a cold / Cuddling / “Just let yourself be sick so you can get better.”

I'm going down (you're yelling timber): Passing out / Exhaustion / “I've got you, let's sit down, I've got you.”

Say goodbye to filters: Half-conscious / Delirious / “You would never say that in your right mind…”

In hot water: Dangerously high fever / Cool baths / “We have to get that number down somehow.”

I don't see it: Hallucinations / Fever dreams / “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.”

The whump morning after: Tending to injuries / Domestic hurt comfort / “Let's check the bandages, okay?”

It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.”

Where's the exit: Lost / Stuck in the wilderness / “Surely someone will notice we're gone.”

Better out than in: Nervous Stomach / Vomiting / “I got your hair, it's fine.”

Well, that doesn't taste right: Accidentally poisoned / Allergic reaction / “My tongue feels like bees, is that normal?”

Be one with the fish: Drowning / Rescue Breaths / “Why did you think that was a good idea?!”

We didn't start the fire: Severe burns / Running into flames / “I know it hurts. Breathe.”

That's no barn spider: Venomous bite / Arachnophobia / “You'll be okay, we can help.”

What's your name again?: Concussion / Temporary Amnesia / “I don't remember what happened to me.”

Nothing behind the eyes: Fully unconscious / Force feeding / “It's just me, go back to sleep.”

Wrong place, wrong time: Robbery / One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.”

I don't mean to get emotional: Fear / Breaking point / “I can't stop crying, I'm sorry--”

Only way out is through: Tunnel collapse / Accidental Journey / “We can't just sit here and wait.”

ALTERNATES:

Seizure

Choking

Withdrawal

Mugged

Wild animal attack

Hangover

Strain/sprain

Broken bone

Bloody nose

Panic attack

[whump-side]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 1 - Emergency First Aid: Alcohol as sanitizer

@whumperless-whump-event

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumperless Whump Event - Day 1

Hehehehe this event looks so FUN, I had to join! Have something short and sweet, early on in Mariano and Bastian's relationship

TWs: Blood, needle mention, stitches

Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

"What do you mean you stitched yourself up and walked here?" Bastian's appalled expression all but pinned Mariano to the paper-covered chair he'd been eased down onto when he showed up, bloody and stumbling. He sheepishly looked at his own hands, slick with blackened blood as Bastian went to lock the tattoo shop doors and flip the sign to closed.

"Well, I'm not in a state to drive, and I always have my emergency suture kit on me--"

"You have an emergency suture kit on you, like casually?" Bastian didn't sound like this was terribly comforting for him to hear.

"...Yes." Mariano admitted. "It's nothing fancy, but the needle and surgical thread is sterile."

Bastian squinted at him, jaw soundlessly working like he was caught between a few possible responses. "...Why?" He settled on, grabbing the first aid kit he kept at the front desk and some wet wipes.

"In case I slip on the sidewalk at eleven at night and gouge my side open on some broken glass, like tonight."

Bastian scoffed, shaking his head as he sat next to Mariano. "I'm taking you to the hospital, you know." Scaled fingers supported Mariano's wrist as he started delicately wiping blood from Mariano's hands, frowning as he worked.

Mariano's chest warmed. He nodded. "That's a good idea." He'd never felt Bastian be so careful with how he touched him, and he almost liked it. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah." Bastian grumbled. "I'm just glad you came here instead of trying to drive yourself."

Mariano sighed as Bastian finished cleaning up his hands and started gathering up his things. He started to get to his feet, wincing as his side shouted what a bad idea that was. Before he could rise even a few inches off the crinkly paper, Bastian's hands were on him and he was being lifted up into the air.

"Bastian, what--"

"Shut up, you don't need to pop your shitty stitches. Just relax, we'll be at the hospital in twenty."

[imsorryithurts]

Whumperless Whump Day 1

@whumperless-whump-event

Hello, friends! This is my first entry for the Whumperless Whump Event. I don't have much experience with formatting text on tumblr, so I hope it'll be legible. I am also not an experienced writer, I just wrote down what comes to my mind! If anything is too out of place feel free to tell me (nicely!).

This is set up in my "generic space adventure" setting, if you want a primer on the characters, you can read it here: [link]

Thanks to Seth for setting this up, and without further ado, here's my story.

-x-

Emergency First Aid:

Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.

Content warnings: Falling from heights, bruises, lacerations, and stitches.

-x-

“I’m fine, I promise.” Matt took a deep breath, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “It's just a scratch. I’ve been worse.”

It wasn't exactly a lie. He was fine. He has had worse.

He had to admit, though, calling it a scratch was quite the understatement.

“I swear to fucking god, Matt,” Rex’s voice rang distantly through the comm. “If we get there and your leg is missing, I'm ripping out the other one myself!”

“We’ve got your coordinates already,” Roye’s voice came through the speaker much clearer, without much background noise. Matt had to laugh at the possibility that Rex wrestled the comm out of Roye's hand just to threaten him. “We're trying to figure out how to get to you, just don't move, right?”

Matt could tell by his tone that he was serious. Roye was using his “captain voice”. He would be here in seconds, if he could.

“Matt, do you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he picked up his comm with his uninjured arm. “Yeah, I hear you.” He hoped to god this sluggishness wasn't from blood loss.

“Call back if anything happens. We're coming.” There was the noise of a finished call.

Matt sighed and slumped back against the sandy rock formation he was sitting against. The same kind of rock that crumbled under his feet at the mount above, sending him rolling god knows how many meters away. He only didn't curse it because it was providing some much needed support at the moment, and he didn't want to risk losing it because he offended it.

He gathered up some motivation to take stock of his situation again. He took his cracked mask off. The team always made fun of him for wearing the O2 mask even in breathable planets, but it very likely saved him from a broken nose and a couple of mouthfuls of dirt. He set it aside along with his comm, breathing in the fresh, even if slightly too humid air.

He was sore all over, but that's to be expected. His left knee hurt particularly badly, along with his foot that was caught in a root on the way down. Nothing was at a weird angle and he could move his toes inside his boot, so probably nothing was broken. He couldn't tell what was going on with the foot, it hurt way too much to bend his knee in order to remove the boot, and even if he could reach it, the swelling had already settled in, making it hard to remove it on his own. So he settled for leaving the leg outstretched for now, to be given attention once he was back in the ship.

The “scratch”, on the other hand, needed attention now immediately.

Somewhere along the way his right forearm had snagged on something, that something ripping a gash almost from his wrist to his elbow. He had spent the last couple of minutes pushing against it with his jacket to stop the bleeding while trying to relate his situation to the rest of the team. Now that nobody was listening, he allowed himself to groan loudly as he peeled the fabric away from the wound.

Like he said, he’s had worse. Still, it was not pretty. He was lucky enough that the edges weren't too ragged, but it was still long and deep. It had stopped pouring out blood and now it oozed lazily, red filling the entirety of it like a lake.

Matt pressed his jacket against it again, pushing against the sides, trying to mop up some of the blood.

Not pretty might not be a good enough description. Squeezing some of the blood out of it exposed the angry edges around a pit of bright red muscle, lumps of nauseatingly yellow fat tissue clumped around it. 

He poured half of the water from his canteen over it. Blood loss or infection was going to kill him before dehydration anyways. He fished the first aid kit from his backpack, working as fast as he could, if he hesitated, the pain would take over his brain and he’d be scared to do anything so as to not aggravate it.

He held his breath and poured as much antiseptic as he could over his arm. Even if he had been trying to be quiet, he wouldn't have been able to hold back the scream he let out as the liquid touched his exposed flesh, white hot searing pain burning all the way to his bones.

He sat back with his arm outstretched to wait the worst of the pain away and catch his breath. Once he could take a full steady breath in, he retrieved the little suture kit.

It was a good thing he was the one to take that fall. Matt wasn't sure any of his colleagues would manage to properly clean and stitch a wound. Even with guidance over the comm, some of them could have the dexterity to do the stitches, but not the ability to keep calm until more help arrived.

It wasn't until Matt had the needle, thread and hemostat ready he realized that, actually, he had no idea how he would do this either.

His dominant hand was useless to work on this two handed job. He could probably use it to hold something, but there was no way to use it on its own arm.

He better not have a fucking concussion on top of all this.

He steadied his arm between his knees, trying to squeeze it in a way to push the edges of the wound as close together as possible. He was determined to make it up as he went along.

He couldn't get the hemostat to work on his left hand, so he threw it aside and held the needle with his fingers.

He expected the sting of the needle to feel like nothing compared to the agony of the gash, but it aggravated it in a way he had to consider just leaving it alone and take his chances against dying right there. He shakily pushed the needle through the other side of flesh after a couple of deep breaths.

He stared at the thread crossing his open skin. The obvious part was over, now he had to focus to remember all the steps. It was like doing his first stitches on a sponge all that time ago.

Right. Cross the thread. This was the twisty part, right? He missed having the hemostat.

Come on, learning to do something one handed was good, rewiring the brain, keeping it in shape.

He made two loops, moving the thread with his thumb and index, holding it with his pinkie. He pushed the needle through the loops, pulling it with his teeth and holding the loose side of thread, the edges of skin meeting where the stitch tractioned it. Matt let himself whimper at the feeling, both the surface of the skin and muscles protesting at the movement.

He repeated the loops to the other side, cursing when they slipped away from his fingers, but completing the knots of the stitch. 

He snipped the ends of thread, completing the suture. He sighed in relief and admired his work. But then he had to laugh. 

That was one stitch down. There remained… What, about 20?

His comm beeped to life beside him. Isabella's voice came from it. “Hey, Matt, how are you holding up?”

“Fine.” He sighed, forcing his voice not to shake. “My foot is still messed up, so I’m-I’m just sitting here.”

“We're going to leave you bored for a while. We found a path around the bushes, should take a little less than two hours to reach you,” She said, apologetic, but hopeful. “Roye says he’d keep you company if we weren't worried about about battery.”

“Ha, thanks.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking at how much he still had to suture, the wound slowly seeping blood into his pants. “I’ll just enjoy a nap, maybe.”

“Sleep well, Matt. We’ll wake you when we get there,” she signed off sweetly.

Matt laid back against the rock, looking at his injured arm. He sighed and forced himself upright. He wiped the blood around it as best as he could. The gash wasn't going to close itself.

He struggled with the next two stitches, but then he blanked out, and when he realized, half of it was already closed up.

It was not a good sign, but he was relieved it was almost done before he noticed.

His hands shook as he completed the next ones, and the needle slipped out of his fingers more than once, but he got there.

He pierced the skin one last time, looped the thread twice, pulled the needle through. Looped twice to the other side, pulled it through. Helping with his teeth. His vision was blurry and his mouth tasted like copper. But he did it.

He snipped the last of the thread, finally. 

He slumped back against the rock, realizing he had been holding his breath. He had to pour some more antiseptic over it, but he couldn't get his non injured arm to move. Needed to drink some water, maybe, but his limbs fell heavily at his sides.

Well, fuck. At least people were already coming. 

His vision started to grey out, and he allowed the fog to take over.

-

He woke up being half carried already.

“I FUCKING TOLD YOU HE WAS HIDING SOMETHING,” Rex shouted beside him. “WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY, I’LL RIP YOUR OTHER ARM APART, YOU IDIOT!”

Matt chuckled. He would have thought the same if the roles were reversed.

He felt his consciousness drifting again. He took advantage of the light hearted moment and the safety of the arms heaving him up, and let it go. He was fine now.

[omgubler]

I am coming back from a 4-6 year hiatus in writing, and decided that for some silly reason I'd do this challenge? I've never completed any whump events so I want to really try this time around. @whumperless-whump-event

“I’m not peeing on your leg Shawn! That’s disgusting!” Gus shrieked. Shawn hissed as nasty, red welts started to appear on his leg. “Guuuuus, I’ve been stung by a jellyfish! You have to! This is a matter of life and death.”

Day 1: "Emergency First Aid" Prompts: Emergency First Aid Fandom: Psych Characters: Shawn Spencer, Burton Guster

[kuralkara]

Whumperless Whump Event- Day 1

Emergency First Aid

Self Done Stitches/Alcohol as Sterilizer/"Tis but a scratch, I've had worse"

TW: Depictions of Injury, At-home First Aid, Descriptions of Blood

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t hurt. Which might’ve been worse, in all honesty. You knew you were bleeding: you could feel the slow drip of blood over the already coagulated, hardening mess down your shoulder. Yet it was simply cold in the heat of the cabin.

You weren’t alone. You were never alone whenever you were hunting something like, well, that but your partner had vanished somewhere into the depths of the old wooden structure. The beast was dead and the two of you had done your job well.

The key difference between the new carcass smoldering in the pit outside and the one before it was that the new one had been faster. You’d dare say smarter, but that kind of talk tended to get a knife pointed at your nose. So you kept that observation to yourself. 

Stomping footsteps indicate your partners return. Never pleased about any mess in their cabin. Less pleased about the length of the hunt. You were still lucid enough to smell something sharp before something- “Watch it!” you yowled, back arching on reflex at the sudden sting.

Alcohol. Pure alcohol. If you had to guess, it was some kind of cheap vodka, or maybe everclear. Something super high in proof with nothing else within it. 

“Hold still,” was the curt, sharp response. A hand wrapped around your uninjured shoulder, not unkindly, to force you to sit back in a way that was easy for them. You bit your tongue, trying to breathe. Your body was not best pleased with its reminder of, why yes, there was flesh down that shoulder and shoulder blade, and yes, matter of fact, it was split open by claws larger than your windshield wipers. What fun for you and your flesh! “It’s not deep enough to warrant stitches, but it’s at a weird angle. I dunno if your body will be able to properly heal from this.”

“Ah, tis but a scratch,” you tried, waving it off. You felt blood drip more steadily down your back, and swallowed. “I’ve had worse.”

Alcohol was not the best way to sterilize it. It was an irritant. It reopened wounds and aggravated blood vessels in a way that could prevent proper scarring and healing. Words from an orientation so recent yet so distant echoed in your mind. 

You closed your eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. After a moment of holding it, you pushed all of the air out of your chest all at once. “None of the bones seem touched,” they managed. It took biting the entirety of your tongue to keep yourself from grimacing at that image. Was it really that deep? “It looks more like you were skinned back here.”

“I need you to shut the fuck up before I hurl.”

“Yeah that- that’s fair.”

Quiet. You did your best to breathe through the frigid yet smoldering sting, but to no avail. Your breathing hitched at every contact of the rag. Heart stammering uncomfortably in your ears whenever they needed to scrape the seeping wound.

You wondered- twice- if perhaps they were being rougher than normal in an attempt to keep you from talking, or maybe as some kind of punishment for a failure you couldn’t have prevented, or maybe they just couldn’t do it any other way. You didn’t know. It didn’t matter. The dusk would come again.

You needed to get back out there. No matter the cost.

[beautyconsumer]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 1

Two Stubborn Idiots sitting in a Bathtub-

Emergency First Aid: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

@whumperless-whump-event A little late but first one is done! Also cross posted on AO3

Relationship: Jason Todd/Grant Wilson

Fandom: Batman, Batfam, Deathstroke (comics)

Content and TW: self-suturing a wound, needles, non-graphic violence, alcohol used as sanitizer, description of pain, implied sexual content, injury, medical inaccuracies, hurt/comfort, comic book logic, Lazarus pit side effects (only healing ones)

“It's just a scratch, I've had worse,” Grant says, “You're the one who's bleeding out,” he points out, eyeing the oozing wound from Jason’s side.

Jason huffs, presses harder on his side with his hand, the scent of metallic blood pungent on Grant's nose, it doesn't bring him the thrill of victory over someone else as it usually does. The absence of the feeling doesn't sit right with him, not enough to do something about it. Not then.

“Just bring me something to clean the wound,” Jason says, voice strangled among heavy pants. It sounds dangerously close to other occasions Grant has heard him making the same vulnerable, pitiful sounds. He ignores the automatic heat creeping up his spine to retrieve what's asked. Wrong time.

The safe house is pretty neglected, there's little equipment let alone medical supplies. Jason and he had been using the space and shitty bed in it for everything but sleeping.

Grant kicks himself a little for not worrying more about keeping the place stacked with vital things someone without a regenerative metagene would need. His tendency to look only after himself nagged him rarely.

Yet Jason had him experiencing emotions too intense and too fast for him to process.

When he looks at the medicine cabinet he realizes they don't have any disinfectant.

But they did have a half bottle of vodka they had drunk the day before.

Grant purses his lips but goes to the kitchen for the bottle.

Jason’s gaze looks hazy when Grant comes back to the bathroom. Jason prefers to bleed out in the bathtub despite the fact the place has been stained with blood beyond repair.

Grant hurries to him and palms his cheek lightly, Jason’s eyes are closed, his eyelashes are fluttering weakly. Grant curses before opening the bottle and pouring the content rapidly into his wound.

Jason startles into awareness, he yelps and trashes in the porcelain pool, Grant places his palm firmly on his chest to keep him from moving too much, else he worsens his injury and wastes the liquid he had halfway poured on him. Grant hushes him, in an attempt to calm him or ground him.

Jason’s pupils are shrinked into pinpricks. Bright teal rings staring back at him. Jason stills when he registers Grant, relaxes into the hold and limits himself into a hiss.

Grant hikes up his shirt to look closely at the wound, Jason is too weak to protest.

“You’re gonna need stitches,” Grant says.

Jason snorts, “Look who’s talking.”

Grant feels dark tendrils of annoyance reach at him mercilessly. Jason is the one who's the most vulnerable of the two. If Grant is vulnerable at all as Jason keeps implying.

There’s always a bigger fish, Grant knows that, a lesson sank deep into his very core; he just doesn't see what that has to do with who needs more medical attention than the other, Jason does, most of the time, despite Lazarus Pit liquid roaming in his blood; Bat arrogance and skill can do so much, but it’s like that never drills into his thick skull. Grant might have a deep slash from a sword on his chest, but his body had worked on swiftly joining his flesh closed the moment the blade had been separated from his skin.

Jason stubbornly meets his scowl, he is one stubborn bastard but so is Grant.

“You’re getting stitches first,” Grant says.

His first mistake was the way he said it. He is gonna face Jason’s defiance at his tone, but he can't help it, he hates when Jason gets like that, such a martyr when it was very much not needed.

‘Let me just fucking help you.’ Grant thinks.

“You first,” Jason says.

It's stupid, almost childish if it weren't for the fact that Grant knew he was dead serious. An option is holding Jason down while stitching his wound closed against his wishes, and while Grant had the deep need to have Jason just fucking listen to him for once and do as Grant asked, because he was doing this for his own damn good —he also knew his obstinacy didn't come from a bad place— the action would only worsen Jason’s wound.

Because despite the situation Jason would still fucking struggle.

“Fine,” Grant snaps, taking to leave toward the medical kit.

Grant hated stitches, it hurt, they ended up looking ugly, he hated to touch the result or even look at it.

“Let me do it,” Jason says, voice slurred, which only aggravated Grant more. He’s losing blood too quickly.

“Shut the fuck up, could you even hold the needle?”

Jason frowns but doesn't say or do much else, Grant doesn't think he exactly can.

Grant gets to work quickly, in his eyes this was useless and stupid and yet—

He takes the needle and inserts the thread quickly.

Then for the first time of the night Grant looks at his own wound; he was partially right, it had closed significantly, far from the deep slash he had felt white hot piercing in his flesh. From it still emerged thin rivulets of scarlet blood, dampening his suit from his torso to the front of his legs.

The annoyance flared to righteous anger, he could just look away and let the thing close itself while he took care of Jason but nooo, Jason had to be an asshole.

The first bite into his skin didn’t do much to calm his choler, but he did hiss at the incision, if he had ignored the wound he wouldn't feel it this intensely, Grant couldn't help but bitterly think. He kept going, quickly stitching the wound together firmly with rough pulls at the needle, irritation fueling his vicious rhythm.

His metagene didn't mitigate the pain any less.

Grant bites his lip to push through the pain, tastes the tiniest drop of blood and stops immediately, he didn’t like having uneven puffy lips.

Grant is panting slightly when he’s done and cuts the strand off.

He quickly looks at Jason then, the scowl on Grant’s expression vanishes when he looks at him. His skin too pale, his head lolled to the side, the rest of his body slack.

Grant feels shocked into motion, he gathers Jason in his arms to hold him close, he feels as lax as a doll, a terrible and bright contrast to the normal Jason who’s firm and strong and restless.

Grant hears his heart beat, focuses his hearing into it, his favorite sound in the world is diminished into a soft, weak thump. Grant massages Jason's chest without giving it much thought. His mind punishing with repeated thoughts on what he should have done to make this anything but this awful outcome. But that doesn't fucking matter, he needs that wound closed, he needs to stop overthinking this.

He deatatches himself from Jason to gather the supplies again, his hands are shaking unlike the time he did the stitches on himself; he finds out with trepidation.

He pulls the skin closed with far more precision and care than he did himself, each time he sinks the curved needle into Jason's swollen flesh he tries to keep himself together, telling himself that it is for his own good.

When the wound is finally closed, thin flashes of bright green thrum underneath the skin, Grant feels he can breathe normally.

He shudders out the deep intake of air full of tension he was holding.

Grant sets his forehead against Jason’s, he is thankfully not burning with fever as he feared.

Grant lets himself go lax against him then.

When Jason wakes up next Grant is gonna give him an earful for scaring him like this.

[oncemorewithwhump]

Summary: Reid gets hurt on a case and tries to stitch himself up. Good thing Morgan won't let him.

Rating: T

For the @whumperless-whump-event

Day 1: Emergency First Aid

self-done stitches / "it's just a scratch, i've had worse"

[soulless-angel25]

Whumperless Whump Event: Day 1 Prompt- Emergency First Aid: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.” @seth-whumps

Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: River Song, Rory Williams

AO3 Link!

Rory is by River's side in an instant, eyes focused on the hole in her arm. His hands twitch, reaching for equipment and supplies he doesn't have on hand right now. And so carefully he takes her uninjured arm, "We're going back to the TARDIS right now to fix that up."

And River rolls her eyes, scoffing. "Oh don't be ridiculous Dad. It's a scratch, not the worst I've ever had. Doesn't even hurt!"

She's lying, he can see it in her eyes. She's regulating her breathing so that whatever slight movements she makes don't hurt as much. The way her body is moving to protect the injured spot. The slight haze in her eyes.

When did his daughter become so good of a liar, Rory wonders. Why did she have to be so used to pain? He isn't sure what words he should say so he allows his brain to auto-pilot for the moment, at least until they're in the TARDIS Medbay.

"You shouldn't have to be used to the pain. I was supposed to protect you from it. I was your dad and I couldn't protect you or Amy. So please, River- Melody. My Melody please let me take care of you."

He can hear her breath stutter for a moment, maybe it was cruel of him to say that but he can't care. Not when his daughter is hurt and says that this hole in her arm isn't the worse pain she's ever suffered. Not when she says that it doesn't hurt. He can't let her- he needs her to know she is loved.

[soapy-soartp]

Trying my hand at Whumperless Whump Event of July by @whumperless-whump-event

(Pls be nice this is my first writing event)

Day: 1- EMERGENCY FIRST AID

Prompt: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / "It's just a scratch, I've had worse." -> different meeting Hualian AU, by a twist of fate HC stumbles upon his recently injured and very disheveled god, he invites his god to his house, naturally Xie Lian accepts

Fandom: Heaven Official's Blessing, TGCF

Characters: Hua Cheng / Xie Lian

His highness collapsed. 

Hua Cheng has finally found him again and he collapses. The ghost rushes forward to stop him from further injuring himself. He hooks his beloved's arms above his own and slowly lowers them both to the ground, his highness’ back to his chest.

Never has Hua Cheng felt as worthless and unworthy as he does at this very moment. 

His highness is here! In his arms! How dare he lay a hand on him without asking. How dare he put his unworthy hands on his highness. He has no right to, he’s worthless. After all, why did it take him so long to find him? He should apologize-

His spiraling thoughts were cut off by a barely heard wince and the person in his arms shifting ever so slightly.

“Your hi- erm Daozhang? Are… are you alright?” He asks, concern clearly coloring his tone and face as he peers down at his god.

Stupid question of course not- if he was alright why would he collapse!

“Ahaha… I’m alright! It's just a scratch, I've had worse!” Was the response and his beloved turned a concerning shade of red.

“A scratch?- You’re hurt?! Your- Daozhang!! Please allow this humble one to help!” He pleads, beginning to panic in his own right looking over the man in his arms.

That's when he notices the other’s very disheveled and filthy appearance.

“Daozhang-“ The ghost starts, obviously distressed, but he was cut off by the man in his lap trying to get up on his own.

His god must have suffered and lived in squalor for who knows how long! The thought has the ghost’s heart heavy with grief and guilt.

“I'm fine! I'm fine! I patched myself up!” The man in tattered robes says as he shakily tries to stand, but he falls again with a low hiss.

The ghost swoops in to steady the other and he says earnestly, “If this Daozhang wouldn’t mind, it would still make this one feel better if you allowed him to check your injuries… I fear you may have reopened a wound or something got infected, so if you could?”

“Ah… No no! I couldn’t possibly trouble you, um?” The other insists, but it’s obvious he could definitely use the help.

“This Daozhang can call this humble one San Lang and it is no trouble at all!”

“San Lang…” After a moment of deliberation the fallen god nods and whispers an embarrassed, “Thank you”

He helps his highness settle on a relatively clean and flat rock and he motions for him to show his injury. The fallen god nods and pulls up his dirty and distressed robes to reveal a nasty looking cut on the inside of his calf. True to his word he did try to patch it up but…

The ghost king can’t help the grimace that appears on his face, he hates seeing his beloved, his god be hurt. He would’ve liked to be more subtle in his approach but there's no time for that when his god is suffering so.

“… That looks bad, this honorable Daozhang did a fair attempt at patching it up but I’m still concerned about infection and whether it’ll reopen again…” The ghost king explains then his hands twitches, “May this one touch…?”

His god nods, face still a light pink, and expression sheepish, “Ah, yes well I did use some wine to sanitize it before I started stitching? And please no need to be so formal, San Lang.”

“…Wine-“ A flicker of despair flits over the ghost's face before he smooths out his expression and looks up at his god, “Gege…? Would you allow this one to take you to his residence? It’d be much better for you to recover there.”

He can’t help but invite his god to come with him, after all with him in ghost city it would be much easier to ensure his well-being and happiness. And his beloved looks very much worse for wear, his white robes tattered and dirty, his cheeks and eyes a bit sunken, skin pale and obviously he’s had quite the experience while Hua Cheng wasn’t with him.

“I couldn’t possibly-“ His god begins but in a moment of bravery he earnestly interjects, nearly pleading with the other to let him whisk him away to a better life.

“Gege please… This one swears it would be more troublesome for me if I were to just let you go without providing proper aid!”

The god stares at this strange youth (who is suspiciously finely dressed for being so deep in this forest). He stares down at those earnest eyes that seem oh so familiar, and makes his decision.

“Alright San Lang, take me away?”

[wyvchard]

Whumperless Whump Event 2024 Master List

Content Warnings for Each One Appear at the start of each entry. Those marked (IEYTD) are short fanfics for the game "I Expect You to Die".

Day 1: Emergency First Aid: Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.” Link Day 2: Does your insurance cover this?: Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.” Link Day 3: Like a record, baby: Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?” Link

Day 4: It's every day bro: Chronic pain / “I'm used to it.” Link

Day 5: Stealing my breath (give it back): Wheezing / “I'll count, you just breathe.” Link

Day 6: Summer is a curse: “Why don't we… find some shade, quick?” Link

Day 7: Accidental Cryotherapy: Hypothermia / “Hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake.” Link

Day 8: Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine / “I can close the curtains…” Link

Day 9: White and red handkerchief: Coughing up blood / Can't speak / “You just can't shake that cough, can you?” Link

Day 10: Your work is never finished: Forced to work while ill / “…sit down, I'm calling HR.” Link

Day 11: A minor annoyance: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / “I'm fine, I can work.” Link

Day 12: It's going down (I'm yelling timber): Building collapse / Trapped under rubble / “I can't move my legs.” Link (IEYTD)

Day 13: It's just a pebble: Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.” Link

Day 14: Lay down your sword: Fighting back a cold / Cuddling / “Just let yourself be sick so you can get better.” Link

Day 15: I'm going down (you're yelling timber): Passing out / Exhaustion / “I've got you, let's sit down, I've got you.” Link (IEYTD)

Day 16: Say goodbye to filters: Half-conscious / “You would never say that in your right mind…” Link (IEYTD)

Day 17: In hot water: Dangerously high fever / “We have to get that number down somehow.” Link

Day 18: I don't see it: Fever dreams / “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.” Link

Day 19: The whump morning after: Tending to injuries / Domestic hurt comfort / “Let's check the bandages, okay?” Link (IEYTD)

Day 20: It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.” Link (IEYTD)

Day 21: Where's the exit: Lost / Stuck in the wilderness / “Surely someone will notice we're gone.” Link

Day 22: Better out than in: Nervous Stomach / “I got your hair, it's fine.” Link

Day 23: Well, that doesn't taste right: Accidentally poisoned / “My tongue feels like bees, is that normal?” Link

Day 24: Be one with the fish: Drowning / “Why did you think that was a good idea?!” Link

Day 25: We didn't start the fire: Severe burns / “I know it hurts. Breathe.” Link

Day 26: That's no barn spider: Arachnophobia / “You'll be okay, we can help.” Link

Day 27: What's your name again?: Concussion / Temporary Amnesia / “I don't remember what happened to me.” Link (IEYTD)

Day 28: Nothing behind the eyes: Fully unconscious / “It's just me, go back to sleep.” Link

Day 29: Wrong place, wrong time: One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.” Link

Day 30: I don't mean to get emotional: Fear / Breaking point / “I can't stop crying, I'm sorry--” Link (IEYTD)

Day 31: Only way out is through: Accidental Journey / “We can't just sit here and wait.” Link