#lacerations & contusions

[onconstellationstreetmp3]

devotion as violence lets give it up for devotion as violence

#me.txt #on devotion #lacerations & contusions

[handfulofmuses]

Listen he loves his nephew but he is just so stressed and paranoid over predators

#;Scurry sniff flinch (Uncle Max) #i love him because he is a complex character who has a bit of a complex relationship with his nephew #the reason he acts that way towards timon is because while well intentioned #timon action's can get a little...well #he mentions fractures / lacerations / concussions / contusions #he doesn't do it on purpose those were all accidents #which is kinda funny to me like what else did Timon do omg #but yeah most of his behavior towards timon seem to come from stress #otherwise? he actually really loves his nephew #i love how he and his sister have this hugging too tight in going

[fencesandfrogs]

Blood enjoyers rejoice! I come bearing good tidings: information about lacerations, since I finally found that information I needed.

#mine #spock biology quest #sadly no information on contusions yet #que triste #but based on the response to lacerations I feel I did a good job figuring things out #and I was able to use the laceration info to come up with a really interesting wound healing method to address #I will be typing it up on the bus Altho I may adjust it in parts later on #as I feel I may have leaned too firmly on the aquatics

[4giorno]

(slight gore tw in the tags) BRO i was wondering where ppl were getting these dottore crumbs but i randomly stumbled across one of them while exploring between geo cube runs. "the dissection records" hdjfjdjdjfj

#it tells the fatal wound on the victim is the fractured hyoid bone and they had asphyxia #but there are lacerations contusions on organs and hemorrhage HHDKGKDHDJJF #i was wondering why everyone acted as if this was common knowledge but yeah #indeed someone developed feelings for dottore on one of his trips and he choked and dissected them #HFKDHSHFJFBD I LOVE THIS i love that a villain is truly allowed to be pure evil #at least for now....... we will see what they do when he becomes playable 💖 #(ppl said the victim was a woman but i cant be sure these specific records i found dont mention a gender) #(edit actually the writing is kinda hard to decipher like what is referring to what so #the fatal wound is 'the wound on the throat' and they also have a fractured hyoid so def strangled #but idk if bone fractures are called wounds......... they also say 'unable to ascertain the cause of death' #which is strange if they know the fatal wound. well in any case dottore was doing some freak shit which #led to them dying thats for sure hdjgkshhdkff. ALSO idk if the victim really developed feelings for him #thats just what everyone who talked abt this incident also said. ill have to see if i can find the other #records that give contex one day while exploring again)

[fictionally-driven]

Bruises and Blossoms

Pairing: Jiyan x f! Midnight Rangers reader Word count: 3165 words Trigger warnings: Injuries, mentions of blood, violence, mentions of death. Plot: Jiyan is gravely injured and saved by the resilient and resourceful field medic, (Y/N), whose unwavering dedication and quick thinking catch his eye amidst the chaos of war.

Author Note: I have been writing fics about WuWa characters developing feelings for someone. I could not help but indulge in this after playing WuWa from the past few days. If you liked it, then reblogs are appreciated, Thank you!

The battlefield was a symphony of chaos, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of smoke. Tacet Discords, their dark forms swirling like a malevolent storm, descended upon them. Jiyan led his troops into the fray against the looming threat to Jinzhou and Huanglong. His blade cut through the fog on the enemy with lethal precision.

But the Tacet Discords were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless as they swarmed over the battlefield. It felt like an other outbreak was on the verge of breaking through and Jiyan was resolved to quell it before it got to that point. Jiyan fought with all his strength, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he pushed himself beyond his limits to protect his troops from the brunt of the attacks.

Suddenly, amidst the chaos, a joint attack from the Crownless and the Tempest Memphis caught Jiyan off guard. Despite his best efforts, he found himself overwhelmed, his vision blurring as pain seared through his body. Blood filled Jiyan's mouth as he struggled to maintain his footing, his ears ringing with the clamor of battle. But even in the midst of his pain, he refused to yield, his determination unwavering as he faced his enemies head-on. Slaying the crownless, Jiyan collapsed to his knees, trying to catch his breath and recover. Black spots emerged in his vision and he shook his head, trying to remain focused. Amidst the chaos, a familiar voice cut through the din, pulling him back from the brink of darkness.

An on-field medic approached at Jiyan's side "General! focus on me," she urged, her voice firm yet comforting as she assessed his injuries. Her hands moving with practiced precision as she tended to his injuries with the supplies she was carrying. "Let me patch you up."

But Jiyan, his resolve as strong as ever, swatted her hand away. He insisted that he was fine, his voice strained with pain. "There are others who need your help more than I do," he protested, his gaze flickering with concern for his troops. “I’ll be alright.”

Yet the medic, undeterred by Jiyan's protests, remained steadfast in her resolve. "You need medical attention, General," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Let me do my job."

"I'm not leaving you like this," She retorted, her tone firm as she continued to patch up Jiyan's injuries. "No man left behind, remember?"

As she outlined Jiyan's injuries in her terminal, recording and transmitting the message to the infirmary, she detailed the extent of his wounds. "He's broken his arm, sustained a deep femoral artery laceration, and has multiple contusions and abrasions," she reported, her voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "We'll need a transfusion and surgical intervention."

With practiced efficiency, she stabilized Jiyan's broken arm, carefully wrapping it in a makeshift splint to prevent further injury after removing his signature midnight green gardebras. Administering pain medication, she sought to alleviate his discomfort, her hands moving with gentle precision as she worked.

As she wrapped a tourniquet around his open wound to stem the bleeding, she barked commands to the surrounding troops, directing them to cover their path back to the infirmary. "We need a clear path, now!" She pointed to two soldiers. “You two. Cover for me and the general till we make it to the infirmary. Take defense positions at the back.” She then points to another soldier beside them. “You take the front. What? Do I look like I have sprouted two horns? Move. Now!”  With Jiyan's uninjured arm draped around her, she lifted the general up, staggering a bit due to his weight before stabilizing herself.

Despite his delirium from the pain and blood loss, Jiyan couldn't help but notice the warmth of her presence, her lively nature. "You're like a whirlwind, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice laced with admiration as she dragged him towards the relative safety of the infirmary.

Despite the chaos and confusion of the battlefield, Jiyan finds himself drawn to the medic at his side. Was she glowing? He couldn't help but wonder as he struggled to keep up with her brisk pace. How could someone be so beautiful, almost amidst the carnage of war? Though the scent of blood and smoke filled his senses, he could still smell was the antiseptic and medicines that she had used on him, comforting him. As she dragged him towards the infirmary, Jiyan weakly protested against her, insisting that he would be fine. She seemingly ignored his words, only to focus on the task at hand. And in that moment, as he clung to her for support, Jiyan knew that he was in good hands.

Inside the infirmary, the harsh lights made everything seem too bright and painful. Jiyan was gently lowered onto the bed, his muscles screaming in protest with each movement. Through bleary eyes, he watched as the medic busied herself. Jiyan’s eyes fixed on her, noting the blood, his blood, smeared on her skin and on her clavicle. He noticed the small injuries that marred her too. Her hair, disheveled from the chaos, fell out of place from its tie, framing her face. With his uninjured hand, he reached out and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, his touch lingering for a moment. “You are injured too. Make sure to get it patched.”

She glanced at him, a mix of frustration and tenderness in her eyes. "You need to rest, General," she admonished, her voice soft yet firm. "Let us handle the battlefield for now. Your troops need you to recover."

Jiyan managed a weak smile, his vision blurring again. "You... you're quite something," he murmured, his voice trailing off. “What is your name, soldier?”

She stood up, her expression softening as she looked down at him. "And you're quite stubborn," she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Take care and recover soon. Your troops have got this, and you need to focus on resting." She wiped his blood off her using a few wet wipes as more medics gathered to tend to the general. “My name is (Y/N).” She said, as the medics began working on treating him.

Jiyan managed a weak smile, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. "Thank you, (Y/N)." he murmured, his voice barely audible.

"You're welcome," she replied, still smiling. “Let the medics tend to you. I’ll be off now.”

As she turned to leave, her figure was haloed by the harsh light, making her seem almost ethereal. Jiyan watched her go, the scent of antiseptic and the warmth of her presence lingering even as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Days had passed since the chaotic battle, and Jiyan, who transferred to the hospital in Jinzhou city was gradually recovering. His body, still wrapped in bandages and dressings, bore the marks of the intense skirmish. His broken arm was securely cast, the deep laceration on his hip stitched and bandaged, and the myriad of contusions and abrasions were cleaned and dressed. The medics had done their job well, but amidst their care, Jiyan's mind lingered on one thought: the medic who had saved him.

(Y/N), she had said her name was. She hadn't served directly under him before, always stationed at a distant outpost. The recent upheavals had brought many changes to their forces, including her reassignment to the Northern border of Huanglong. He'd learned through her records that she was exemplary, her combat skills and medical background making her a perfect fit for an on-field medic. Jiyan knew he needed to thank her, not just for her skillful treatment, but for her unwavering determination to save his life.

Her image was etched into his mind: her firm yet gentle hands tending to his wounds, her unwavering resolve, and that fleeting moment when he had tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. Despite the pain and blood loss, he remembered the warmth of her presence

The Tacet Discord outbreak from that fateful day had been contained, though at a grave cost. Several lives had been lost, each one a heavy burden on Jiyan's heart. As he regained his strength, he prepared himself for a somber duty he never neglected: honoring the fallen. With a pouch of Emortia seeds in his hand, Jiyan made his way to Knell Square, the hallowed ground where he planted these seeds to commemorate the soldiers who had perished in battle.

Stepping out into the streets of Jinzhou, Jiyan felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. The city was alive with activity, but he sought solace in the quieter parts. His path took him away from the bustling marketplace, past the familiar landmarks of the city, and towards Knell Square.

As Jiyan approached the square, the familiar sight of Emortia flowers greeted him, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze. He paused for a moment, taking in the serenity of the scene, his heart heavy with the names and faces of the comrades he had lost. But then, his gaze caught sight of a solitary figure standing by the flower bed, lost in thought.

(Y/N) stood there, her posture relaxed yet somehow somber. She seemed absorbed in the sight of the flowers; her eyes distant as if she were communing with the spirits of those who had passed. The soft light of the late afternoon cast a gentle glow on her, highlighting the subtle strength and grace that had left such an impression on him.

Jiyan's heart skipped a beat as he watched her. He hadn't expected to run into her here, and the sight of her brought back a flood of memories from the battlefield. He wondered what she was thinking about, what memories or emotions had drawn her to this quiet place. He took a moment to observe her, the way her eyes seemed to soften as she looked at the flowers, the way her hands gently brushed against the petals. He cleared his throat, stepping beside her. "I didn’t expect to run into you in Jinzhou."

(Y/N) turned to him, a gentle smile forming on her lips. "General Jiyan," she greeted, her voice soft. “I see that you are recovering quickly.” She turned back to the flowers. “I was here to collect some personal supplies and stopped by to admire these flowers. They are quite beautiful, aren’t they?”

Jiyan nodded, stepping closer to stand beside her. "They do. Each one represents a life, a sacrifice. It's a way for me to remember and honor them. I plant these seeds for the rangers who lost their lives." he said quietly.

She looked back at the flowers; her expression thoughtful. "These flowers... they carry so many memories…”

There was a moment of silence between them, the weight of their shared losses hanging in the air. Jiyan took a deep breath, summoning the words he had been wanting to say. "Thank you," he began, his voice earnest. "For saving me that day. I owe you, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) waved a hand dismissively, but there was a twinkle in her eye. "I was just doing my duty, General. But next time, let me do my job without fighting back.” There was a hint of frustration in her eyes. “You of all people should know that without a general, the army would have fallen into disarray."

Jiyan felt a pang of sheepishness at her words, but he nodded in acknowledgment. "You're right," he admitted. "I was stubborn. But so were you. Your quick thinking and actions saved me. Your efforts will be formally acknowledged."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she shook her head. "No need for formalities, General. Knowing that you're alive and well is enough for me. I don't want praise," (Y/N) said, her voice firm yet soft. "I didn't do it for the recognition. I did it because it's my duty, and I want to be more efficient in that duty. I could have saved more lives that day if I was better."

Jiyan nodded slowly. "I do. It's a heavy burden, knowing lives depend on your actions. But that's also what makes it so important."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened slightly, a spark of recognition flashing in them. "That's right. You were a medic before you became a general. I'd almost forgotten about that."

Jiyan smiled faintly. "It's not something I talk about often, but it's a part of who I am."

She gave him an incredulous look, almost looking offended. “You, of all people, should know better than to resist treatment on the battlefield! Next time, I'll tie you up if I have to."

A chuckle escaped Jiyan before he could stop it, and (Y/N)'s eyes widened in surprise. "Something the matter?" he asked, bemused.

She shook her head, a look of astonishment on her face. "I don't think I've ever heard you chuckle before," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "It suits you more than your usual frown and scowl."

Jiyan was momentarily stunned by her words. He wasn't used to such candid observations about his demeanor. "I suppose I should thank you for that," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

(Y/N) returned his smile, her gaze focused on the sky for a moment, "I'll leave you to your moment with the flowers, General," she said, stepping back to give him space.

As she began to walk away, Jiyan found himself not wanting her to leave just yet. "Wait," he called after her, his voice catching slightly. "Would you... would you help me plant these seeds?"

(Y/N) turned back, her smile widening as she walked back to him. "Of course, General. I'd be honored."

They knelt together by the flower bed, the pouch of Emortia seeds in Jiyan's hand. He handed a few seeds to (Y/N), their fingers brushing lightly. Together, they dug small holes in the soil, carefully placing the seeds within.

"Each seed represents a life," Jiyan said quietly, his voice filled with reverence. "A sacrifice that must never be forgotten."

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes reflecting the same solemn respect. "And each flower that blooms is a reminder of their bravery and our duty to honor them."

They worked in silence for a while, the act of planting the seeds almost meditative. The gentle rustling of the flowers and the distant sounds of the city created a peaceful backdrop to their task.

As they finished planting the last of the seeds, Jiyan looked at (Y/N), admiration evident in his eyes. "Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "For everything."

(Y/N) smiled, her lively spirit shining through once more. "You're welcome, General. And thank you for your service. We all rely on your strength and leadership."

With the seeds planted, they stood together, taking a moment to appreciate the serene beauty of Knell Square. The Emortia flowers swayed gently in the breeze, their delicate petals a symbol of hope and remembrance.

"I should be going," (Y/N) said softly. "But if you ever need someone to tie you down for treatment again, you know where to find me, General."

Jiyan chuckled, a genuine smile breaking across his face. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied. “And please, call me Jiyan.”

“Jiyan…” She repeated, nodding at him. “Alright then, I’ll do just that.”

As (Y/N) repeated his name, a warm feeling spread through his chest. He didn't want her to leave just yet. There was something about her presence that he found comforting, something that made him want to know more about her.

He recalled Mortefi's words, a dear friend who often chided him for being too stoic and reserved. "You need to put yourself out there, Jiyan. Go on dates, meet new people, relax a little. Stop being a tragic brooding hero all the damn time and go live your life."

Jiyan had never thought he desired companionship. After all, the Jué had entrusted him with a duty, a responsibility that he had always taken seriously. But this woman, (Y/N), had come out of nowhere, stirring feelings within him that he had never felt before. It made him yearn for more and all he wanted was to be the subject of her attention at the moment.

Summoning his courage, Jiyan hesitated for a moment before calling out to her, his voice slightly awkward. "Um, (Y/N), wait!"

She turned back, a curious expression on her face as she regarded him. Jiyan stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. At this very moment, he felt as if he would rather fight a horde of the Crownless than speak his mind.  "I, uh, I was wondering if... if it would be alright for us to, um, go out for a nice dinner? And maybe catch a lion dance performance after?"

(Y/N) turned back, a slight smile playing on her lips as she observed Jiyan's flustered state. "Are you asking me out on a date, General?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Jiyan hesitated, first blurting out. “N-no…that’s...” He immediately corrected himself. "I... uh... yes, I suppose I am," he admitted, his voice slightly uncertain. "If... if that's not out of line, I mean. I'm sorry, I should probably let you be..."

(Y/N) giggled, the sound light and musical, easing some of Jiyan's anxiety. "It's endearing to see the General so flustered," she said, her tone gentle and kind. “I’d like to see more of this side of yours, Jiyan.” She met his gaze, still amused. “So yes, I'd like to go on this date if you're still up for it."

Relief flooded through Jiyan, mingled with a newfound sense of excitement. He hadn't expected her to say yes, but now that she had, he couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. “Yes. It... Its settled then.”

(Y/N) nodded, her smile warm and inviting. "Alright then, Jiyan. When and where?"

Jiyan thought for a moment, his mind racing. "There's a lovely restaurant near the theatre. How about we meet there at seven tonight or is that too soon...?"

"Seven sounds perfect," she agreed. "I'll see you then."

As they exchanged contact information on their terminals, Jiyan's heart thudded in his chest, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through him. He watched as (Y/N) took off, her graceful form moving with purpose, and he couldn't help but admire her even more. With a final wave and a cheerful reminder to take care, she disappeared into the bustling city streets, leaving Jiyan standing there with a smile playing on his lips.

His gaze lingered on the spot where she had vanished, the memory of her infectious laughter and warm smile etched into his mind. For a moment, he placed his uninjured hand on top of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his palm. Yes, even he, General Jiyan, renowned for his stoicism and unwavering dedication to duty, found himself looking forward to tonight and the possibility of many more nights spent in (Y/N)'s company.

WuWa Masterlist

#lina writes #wuthering waves fic #wuthering waves fanfic #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #jiyan #wuwa jiyan #jiyan wuthering waves #jiyan x reader #jiyan wuwa #wuwa #jiyan oneshot #wuwa fanfic #jiyan fanfic

[freyito]

can write a head cannons on how the Lin Kuei trio would react to their s/o getting injured from a mission they just got back from and their s/o was trying to hide it from them? (not a serious life threatening injury, more of either they had a deep cut or bruised ribs, something like that)

im in the mood for some angst since i havent gotten any requests for it yet (this is ur time, anons ;) ), i know this prompt is pretty fluff-y, but i'm gonna make it a little bit more angsty. im also gonna write this a little bit different, since i'm real real into this request and writing angst is my specialty. sorry this took so long btw!!!! i had a hard time focusing for like a week, but im back in the mindset and i hope you all enjoy this!!!

cw: gn reader, little bitty angst, mentions of injuries & scarring, bruised rib, laceration, contusions, proofread.

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴ ᴋᴜᴇɪ ᴛʀɪᴏ + ᴀɴ ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ ꜱ/ᴏ

-Tomas Vrbada

Tomas was just glad both of you had returned safely. The threat was neutralized, and neither you, nor him had sustained any fatal injuries. Maybe you had gained a couple new cuts that would make nice scars, with stories to match, but he had sworn that was the lot of it. He was able to get you patched up before returning, but he had still insisted on meeting a doctor, an alchemist, anything that could help further. Especially since he was worried about infection. But you had reassured him that you were fine, the mission was over and all you needed was rest to heal up properly.

That night, you writhe in bed, finding some sort of comfortable position to ignore the seething pain in your chest. It wasn't lethal, no, but you did require medical attention. However, it was something that Tomas would worry about. And with the mental hardship of that mission, you knew that was the last thing he needed. The very last thing.

Biting your lip, you let out a sharp breath, before finding the optimal laying position. Uncomfortable, yet the pain was minimum. This was the path to healing, regardless. You rest your hand on your chest, as if to control your heartbeat. Something about that pain just made your adrenaline spike, as if you had been running for your life. Your head throbs, your breath feels short, and your vision ever-so-slightly blurs. It's psychosomatic, you know it is. But you had lied to Tomas, to yourself, and your guilt is eating away at your sense.

Lightheaded, you turn your gaze to the door, meeting eyes with your beloved. Horror resonates within his eyes, like the flame of ambition had died down and left only the ashes of regret in its wake. Tomas had watched you, roll and writhe and squirm and groan. His voice trembled, something lurking behind those sweet words of his.

"You lied?"

It is not that. It is not that you lied about being unharmed. It was the fact that now, even so desperately in pain, he knew he couldn't protect you. He didn't. And perhaps it had been the fact that you didn't trust Tomas enough to tell him about your chest, as he perceived it.

You propped yourself up on your arm, exhaling a painful amount of regret. And at that, Tomas flinched, almost instinctively. Not as if you were going to hit him, no, as if you were going to fall. Before you could even get a word in, to argue that you hadn't lied, you were worried, anything. Any single word. Tomas had rushed to the bedside, looking down at you now. His emotions showed clearly, hurt, mainly. But behind that, all sorts of emotions welled up in his chest. Anger, betrayal, pain, empathy. He wants to pick you up, he knows he can't. But there's a part of him that suddenly yearns to touch you, now, right now. Begging, pleading within him. But instead, he swallows that feeling and saves it for when you make a full recovery.

Tomas calls a medic, promptly. He finds it hard to speak. He doesn't go mute, he's just overwhelmed with all sorts of negative emotions that all the words he'd say get choked up in his throat. As the medics show up and end up escorting you away with a wheelchair, Tomas can't help but stay behind. He looks at the bedside as if you aren't in better hands now, mourning almost. He knows you can take care of yourself, you're strong and skilled. But this is why he worries, he's afraid of you getting hurt, still. A nightmare, that's what it is. Knowing it's not something you're willing to speak of outright, either. Before he continued on to follow the medics, he took a couple seconds to control his breathing, and steady his emotions.

Until your rib had healed, Tomas stayed by your bedside. Day in, day out. None of the nurses could even get him to move, especially after visiting hours were over. For such a minor injury, it broke something inside you to see the man, hunched over at your bedside.

-Bi-Han

With the end of a successful mission, Bi-Han was happier to be home. Losses had been kept at a minimum, but as always, there had been more than his fair share of blood spilled. Injuries were common, both you and him knew that. And he had always made sure that you, out of anyone- especially anyone close to him- had been unscathed. Granted, he knew, with even low-scale fights, injuries were bound to happen. He takes pride in how strong you are, knowing that you are more than fine on your own. But he also takes pride on being able to be there. To protect you when you somehow fall short.

Somehow, you had weaseled your way out of a medical exam. As crucial as it was, you knew Bi-Han had a bad habit of worrying over the smallest things. Especially when it pertained to you. The only thing you were left with was a laceration on your shoulder, which was hastily covered with loose gauze. It wasn't anything that drew attention, but moving your arm in a particular way or pressure had definitely would've caused it to bleed again.

That evening, you were out with Bi-Han, enjoying the fresh air and relishing in your victory. It was a regular occurrence, something you both did either in the dead of night or in broad daylight. It was something you two did for yourselves. Bi-Han enjoyed it, getting to spend time with you, surrounded by tranquility and near bliss. It was a nice distraction from his duties as Grandmaster. To spend time with you, hold you tenderly, whisper what he had thought of you, or maybe just enjoy your presence. It was hard for him, but he loved being vulnerable with you, it was one of the few instances of trust he had shown anybody.

So, when Bi-Han had gently caressed your shoulder, the hitch in your breath scared him. The first thought in his mind had been regret, as if he had hurt you. Until you reached for your shoulder, and covered your wound. He had not applied any pressure, but the wound had been irritating you. When you met Bi-Han's warm eyes, the heartbreak almost shot a hole through your heart. When you reached for him, to reassure him it was okay, just an odd reaction, he turned his head away. As if he had betrayed himself. Now, you could see the thoughts processing in his head, each one worse than the last. He wasn't afraid of hurting you now, he was afraid that his actions would lead to this reaction. He was afraid that you had feared him.

You reached for him once again, only now catching his attention and fishing him out of his thoughts. He looked sorrowful, the previous answer lingering on his mind. You could almost see his lips quiver, until he laid his eyes on the gauze peeking out from just under your shoulder. His regret turned into curiosity, and before he could reach in to take a closer look, your guilt took hold. To redirect his attention, you cupped his face ever-so-gently, hoping it would not only distract him, but that it would keep his thoughts at bay.

Mistake number one, really. Bi-Han's fears had been disproved, but now he knew you had been hiding something from him. He couldn't take his eyes off the bandages, yet he leaned into your touch. Simple assurance, for a simple cover-up. He reached for your shoulder again, lifting up the hem of your sleeve. He didn't need a second look, but he took one anyone. You recoiled slightly, caught in your lie. When his eyes met yours, they weren't full of anger, or hurt. Worry, mostly.

"Were you hiding this from me?"

In a way, those words stung. You didn't want to stress him out, and more-so, you didn't want to deal with the medics either. Bi-Han furrowed his brows, rolling his tongue over the bottom of his teeth. The very real threat of infection was present, with a cut that deep. Your injury wasn't fatal, he knew that. But his fear of infection reigned over that. Without a second thought, his hand strayed to your wrist, and pulled your hand away from his face gently. His gaze wasn't cold, it was rather warm. But you could tell he was annoyed that you had hid your injury from him.

With a soft and quick gaze, Bi-Han interlocked his fingers with yours, and led you out of the woods, to the medics. He's tense, he's almost horrified of infection. He's afraid that it'd be too late to catch it.

Bi-Han watches the medics the entire time, arms crossed. He only relaxes when your wound is cleaned and bacitracin is applied. And, out of precaution, he redresses your wounds every day. He'll talk to you about hiding things from him, especially wounds.

-Kuai Liang

With another mission complete and another win under his belt, Kuai Liang had become quite relaxed. With very little injuries to you and himself, he was actually quite proud. At least, that's what he had thought. Normally, Kuai Liang is observant. He can catch any discrepancy in your behavior, and that's what made him so hard to get around. Unfortunately, the wound you had been trying to hide was especially annoying, and in an even worse area. A contusion on your thigh, something that made it increasingly hard to walk.

But, you knew Kuai Liang had no need to worry over you. As much as he loved you, and you love him, you would rather not put another weight on his shoulders. As skilled as he was, fighting had always stressed him out, especially the aftermath. And he could never forgive himself for letting you get hurt, even if you had more than the means to defend yourself. He always admired your lethality, but he was possessive, and the thought of his love getting hurt without him watching over them was a painful thought.

You stifled your pain as you got up off the shared bed, the nap you had taken doing no help to your injury. Kuai Liang stirred next to you, absently reaching for you in his semi-conscious state. His hand landed on your thigh, firmly. His thumb pushed down into the tender bruise, making you cringe. Feeling you twitch under his absent-minded touch, Kuai Liang began to regain full consciousness. As if a nervous reaction, the burning pain in your thigh spread further down your leg.

You turned to look at Kuai Liang over your shoulder, meeting his groggy gaze. Soft, and warm. In his half-awake state, he didn't take notice to the slight crease in your brows, or the way you bit your lip to ignore the pain. Not yet, anyways. He uttered a couple of things under his breath in Chinese, mainly complimenting you. He got up, taking his hand away from your thigh, and yawning. After a couple seconds of comfortable silence, Kuai Liang met your eyes once again, smiling softly.

Your body relaxed, the pain in your thigh subsiding a little. Turning to kiss him, however, broke that brief comfort. The way you angled your body as your lips caught his sent another rush of pain down your full leg, the contusion tender and near begging for some sort of pain relief. Your breath caught in your throat, causing you to pull away and hiss. Kuai Liang flinched, raising his hand and pausing. His first thought was that you had just stretched wrong, but when you had reached for your thigh subconsciously, it clicked instantly.

"You're still hurt? You didn't tell me?"

Anger flared in Kuai Liang's eyes, just for a second, before concern set in. He could've protected you, but also you had hid this from him. He didn't know exactly what to feel in the moment, conflicted and confused. But he knew you were hurt, so his very first instinct was to take care of you. Once you had shown him it was a contusion, nothing deep or at risk of infection. But it was a rather big bruise, so he worried more.

During your recovery, he keeps a close eye on you. He checks on the bruise regularly, until its no more than just the size of a dime. Only then did he allow you to walk without his help. He'll definitely have a talk with you, and in future missions he'll always be close by. He wouldn't dare let his treasure get hurt again.

© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

#⁺◟freyito #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #sub zero x reader #smoke x reader #bi-han x reader #scorpion x reader #kuai liang x reader #tomas vrbada x reader

[hardlyinteresting]

“you need help.” “no, i need you.” From the prompts list please. And if you're comfortable with it would you write it about the reader being injured and kind of out of it and asking for Hotch

Just you

Warnings: injury, concussion, mentions of blood (non-graphic), stitches

Aaron has seen his fair share of injuries. He's spent time in hospital himself, and sitting vigil at the bedsides of others. His job is dangerous, and more often than not, it's gorey. He's seen blood, and burns, bruises, and contusions. But this is the first time he's ever seen someone so out of it with a concussion.

You're sitting on the back step of the ambulance when he arrives, trying to get away from the paramedics, and worming your way out of the holds Prentiss and Morgan are trying to keep on you. "I'm fine!" He hears you insist as you try to stand again. Your eyes widen when you set your sights on him walking toward you, and he can't help but wince as your head jerks away from the medic who has been trying to stitch the wound on your forehead with a butterfly bandage. "Aaron tell them I'm fine!"

He looks towards one of the medics who explains that you're definitely concussed and the cut on your forehead will need help to close. They're kind and professional as they go over your injuries though he can hear the undertone of mild frustration as you fight to get closer to him.

"You need help," Aaron tells you, letting you take his hand hoping that being next to you might help calm you enough to get you patched up.

You pout, your brows furrowing as you frown and it makes your laceration bleed again. You're holding his hand in both of yours now as if you're afraid of him disappearing. "No, I need you".

"I'm right here," he nearly smiles. Morgan slowly slips away leaving room for Hotch to sit next to you. "The sooner you get patched up, the sooner we can get home".

"We should all get Thai food," you say matter of factly. Emily laughs, now moving away as Morgan had a moment ago, "if I had known I just had to offer you food, we would've been out of here twenty minutes ago".

You know she's only teasing, but Hotch still asks her to go meet up with the rest of the team getting ready to leave. He squeezes your hand as your eyes slip shut watching as you blink yourself awake. Silently he does the math, making a mental note of what times he'll need to set alarms for tonight, very serious about following concussion protocol and making sure he's up to monitor your symptoms.

With your butterfly stitches applied, he guides you to the waiting SUV making sure you're settled before he shuts the door. He trusts JJ to keep an eye on you while he drives, incredibly glad this case was local.

You're more yourself again by the time you've collected your things from the office and made it home. Everyone accepted your rain-check for Thai food with good humour and you're more than ready to just flop the moment you get through the door.

Aaron encourages you to do just that. He helps you change into your pyjamas when moving around too much leaves your head pounding. Once he's changed himself he disappears only to return with a painkiller and a glass of water for you. He seems relieved when you reach out with fairly steady hands to take them.

"Do you need anything else?" He asks making sure you're comfortable.

"Just you".

Request Guidlines | Request here! | Masterlist

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds fic #hotch x reader #response #ask #fluffy prompts #prompts

[wakewithgiggli]

This reveals things to have been even more horrifying than we might suspect. I thought Nex Benedict likely had some kind of concussion that caused his death a day later. But the actual report reveals two things:

He might have committed suicide (think of how bad things must have been to cause that), and the full report notes “numerous areas of physical trauma over Nex’s body that evidence the severity of the assault.” The family included a portion of the full report listing two contusions to the 16-year-old’s head as well as multiple hemorrhages, abrasions, and lacerations under the heading “No lethal trauma.”

Let's say the suicide argument is correct: The beating was so severe that he was left with "multiple hemorrhages, abrasions, and lacerations". He was in such pain, and had been bullied so badly, amd had no hope things would get better, that committing suicide seemed like the only way out.

And there are transphobic fuckers trying to use the idea he might have committed suicide as a gotcha, to get out of blame.

#nex benedict #cw: bullying #crying #transphobia

[salvy-deldroid]

>You sucked in a deep breath, allowing the cool morning air clear your mind of any disruptive thoughts. Feeling the cool, fresh oxygen rush into different body parts of yours, your injured limbs, your aching torso, and your tired mind. It was rejuvenating; feeling all the pain slowly dissipate as the tiredness and disturbance in your mind slowly disappeared, leaving a tantalizing trail of goosebumps. Each and every worry leaves your mind, letting you float down in the blissful void of nothingness…. >>Kyojuro was sitting on the engawa, thoroughly exhausted after a sparring session with Obanai. However, his attention wasn’t on the various aches on his body, oh no. It was all being hogged by the [h/c] haired beauty meditating a few feet from him. The concentrated yet relaxed expression on your face encapsulated him. His gaze further lowered to your nude torso, save for the saraashi on your chest. His eyes traced over each abrasion, each contusion, and each laceration along with the scars left on your body after a pretty rough sparring with Shinazugawa. He was encapsulated by the way your wounds slowly faded and healed, as scars and scabs took the place of the lacerations while the angry red bruises lightened in color. He was way too encapsulated, in fact, as the calls of the insect Hashira completely escaped him until a rather harsh tug on his shoulder broke him out of his reverie.  >“Moshi Moooshi, Rengoku saaaan?” Shinobu drawled, smiling at the startled Flame Hashira. His eyes shifted from you to her, his trademark smile crawling on his face. “Is there something I can help you with, Kocho?” He replied in his usual vigor, as the Insect Hashira’s smile pressed into a knowing one. “Well, I was concerned about all those injuries on you. However, seeing you so encapsulated by [L/N] san meditating, I cannot help but be curious. Is everything alright, Rengoku Sama?” She asked, tilting her head in a feign of innocence. However, the truth was as clear as day to her:  >>>Kyojuro Rengoku, the successor of Flame Hashira Shinjuro Rengoku and possibly the most beloved amongst the Hashira, was in love.  

Hi there people! This is just a sample from a future fic I am planning for Hashira!Y/N X [Yandere!(?)] Rengoku. This is still a prototype; I may or may not proceed with it. What're your opinions? Should I?

#demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny kyojuro #demon slayer #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kyojuro x y/n #kny rengoku #rengoku x reader #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku kyōjurō #yandere rengoku #yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #hashira #hashira reader #yandere male #yandere boyfriend

[six-legged-sea-leopard]

what happens to wounds (lacerations, contusions, ligament tears, bone breaks, etc) if you try to shapeshift while youre hurt? cant go the animorphs route since henley is definitely missing his right leg permanently and oko is not getting that left eye back. so no complete regeneration any time you change. so far ive thought about it as corresponding body parts being attached to a sort of motion capture mesh, where the equivalent parts of each form are intrinsically linked and retain damage. ie, if left front paw gets broken in dog form, left hand is broken when shifting back to human form. this would only work with tetrapod bodies, though, since non-tetrapods don’t have the same basic body plan. i wonder if it would super fuck up your healing if you tried to change with broken bones that are not properly reset. if you change while youve got stitches, would you rip your stitches out as your body proportions stretch and change? what about bruising? i like to think it’s pretty dangerous to try and alter your body while it’s heavily damaged, but i’m not sure.

#worldbuilding

[onconstellationstreetmp3]

Healing Wound—Edward Kinsman

#me.txt #lacerations & contusions #photography

[super-who-locked-me-in-here]

Hannibal has always found beauty in Will's cruelty. It's what made him forgive Will for his betrayal. It's what made him let Will take them both over the cliff. For every laceration and contusion, for every sleepless night and lonely day, for every harsh word that left Will's mouth and headed in Hannibal's direction and every kind word Will wouldn't let escape, Hannibal revels in the violence of Will's moods, his hands, and his love.

Except maybe once. Once, when Hannibal was proud and he was scared, despite his calm exterior. Once, when Will's intentions were there, even as Will was not. Once, when the proxy attacking Hannibal unintentionally reached past his mask, his insecurities, and into his childhood and the parts of it that cling to his soul like winter on a branch.

Hannibal never feared the water, whether from the pool or the tub. Warmth could be found in those bodies unlike the numbing puddles of melting snow. He never particularly enjoyed getting out of the water though. That's where things flip-flopped and the air that he was accustomed to seemed frigid. The chill was always met with a huff of air and quickened steps towards his towel so he could keep the cold from seeping into his bones.

But Matthew Brown, whether he knew it or not, chose the most opportune moment to strike and string him up. When Hannibal came to at his crucifixion, sure he was in pain. Sure the noose around his neck was uncomfortable and the slits in his wrists ached terribly, but those were simply annoyances compared to the water droplets that caught in his chest hair, dripped across his temples and ran down his legs from his damp swimsuit, keeping him shivering and unsteady, moreso than the uneven bucket beneath his feet already made him.

Hannibal had half a mind to wet himself, just for the warmth it would provide, but he knew that too would eventually leave him damp and cold, and even trapped in the darkest parts of his mind palace as he was, he'd never allow some wannabe killer to see that indignity.

And as the terrors of his childhood continued to creep into his psyche like cracks in thin ice, Hannibal was barely aware enough to respond to Matthew's ramblings. "Only if you eat me" he said, but was he replying to Matthew's musings, or was he responding to someone else, far away and long ago, who ate something, someone, far more precious than himself?

It takes everything in Hannibal for him to rasp out his warning to Jack, and suddenly the bucket is gone, and for a split second, Hannibal thinks he will die this time as he did the first time: Cold.

#thinking about Hannibal's cold trauma 🥶👍 #hannibal #hannibal lecter #matthew brown #hannibal fic

[bellygunnr]

Cyber Samaritans

Bulkhead finds it first. A human machine, overturned. Black streaks mark its trajectory from the road to the rocks beyond. The packed earth provided no traction and let the car sail freely, swiftly, until its front-end crumpled happily against the first obstacle and sent everything over. Now Bulkhead stops, headlights angled to elucidate the scene.

Ratchet heaves to a halt beside him. Seeing the car stays his reaction. They’re in alt-mode, so there are no fervent shared glances, but their EM fields widen and meld to each other, uncertain. Finally, Ratchet rolls forward, approaching the crash.

“Human life signs,” Ratchet reports. “Well. Good thing I’m an ambulance.”

“Uh, shouldn’t we tell Prime first?”

“If they’re conscious, sure. Help me with this, Bulkhead.”

They’re not dead, but they’re not conscious, either. Yet they’re more alive than dead, so they have to act. Bulkhead and Ratchet work together to extricate the humans from the twisted machine. There’s two of them, a driver and a passenger. Lacerations and shrapnel and contusions riddle them both.

“I just realized we could’ve called the authorities,” Bulkhead says.

“We’re too far from town for that. It’d take them what, a few cycles? Besides-- I’m an ambulance, Bulkhead.”

“Yeah, for us. What do you know about human medicine?”

Bulkhead balks at giving Ratchet lip, wide jaw opening and clamping shut, but Ratchet only scoffs-- he’s been put to rights!-- and transforms around their new charges.

Then he switches his sirens on and floors it. Bulkhead becomes his shadow and wonders what they’re going to tell Prime when they’re late to shift change.

---

June is already shrugging out of her scrubs when the living room light turns on and her son appears from upstairs. She squints at him for a minute, trying to remember what’s wrong with this picture.

Ah, right. It’s two in the morning.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” June says. “You okay?”

Jack bounces once on his heels, hard. He has the shiny-eyed look of a night terror or a scheme.

“I’m fine. Are you okay? How was work? There’s dinner in the fridge. I didn’t know you were working a night shift.”

There’s the rub. June groans, tosses her bag onto the couch. “I forgot-- I just-- lost track of time. We got some pretty bad cases in and the whole thing was just weird. Unmanned ambulance, ghost gurneys...”

Jack flops down on the couch beside her. The couch cushions swallow him whole.

“Ghost gurneys?” He prompts, eyebrows raised. “You sure you’ve been--”

“It was weird, okay. And I don’t think anyone noticed-- but the people that pushed them in were see-through. Off. Weird.”

She shakes her head and places a steadying hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“But the patients were okay, so. What’s for dinner, huh?”

His wild-eyed look makes more sense now.

“Not fast food! I made… meatloaf.”

---

Ratchet and Bulkhead never do tell Prime what happened.

#transformers prime #ratchet tfp #bulkhead tfp #jack darby #june darby #pre canon technically #writing challenge 2

[lboogie1906]

Rodney Glen King (April 2, 1965 – June 17, 2012) was a victim of police brutality. He was a taxicab driver. He was born in Sacramento. He moved with his parents to Altadena when he was 2. On March 3, 1991, he was the victim of a brutal police beating that occurred in the San Fernando Valley. Caught on tape by a local witness, the video showed four LAPD officers restraining and repeatedly striking him with their batons while six other officers stood by, gaining international notoriety as the beating was broadcast around the world.

The incident began at 12:30 am on March 3, when a California Highway Patrol team attempted to pull him over for speeding, he led the police on a 7.8-mile high-speed chase. He pulled over at a dark park entrance. He was shot twice with Taser stun darts, kicked, and beaten with batons for eighty-one seconds before he was handcuffed. He suffered a broken cheekbone and multiple facial fractures, lacerations on the forehead, a fracture of the distal fibula in the right leg, and various bruises, contusions, and abrasions.

They were white LAPD officers, and the LAPD had a long record of brutality against African Americans. Four LAPD officers were arrested and charged with assault and use of excessive force. The trial was moved from downtown Los Angeles to suburban Simi Valley, where a jury without any African Americans was chosen. Three of the officers were exonerated and another was acquitted of all but one charge.

The announcement of the verdict spurred four days of rioting in Los Angeles beginning on April 29, 1992. A twenty-five-square block section of the city was torched. Fifty-four people died in the riots, two thousand were injured, and nearly ten thousand were arrested. More than eight hundred buildings were burned, and damage estimates neared a billion dollars. The riots touched off similar outbursts in Las Vegas, Atlanta, and other cities across the US.

The officers charged with beating him were prosecuted federally for civil rights violations. Two of the officers were convicted and sentenced to thirty months in prison. He was awarded $3.8 million in his lawsuit against the city of Los Angeles. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[whump-help-desk]

What if your whumpee is hit by a chain on their lower back? What are the consequences?

[Post inspired by discussions in the Musketeers Garrison server about the possible consequences of Aramis being hit by the metallic chain during the skirmish in Commodities]

Depending on where the chain hits your whumpee, they may get:

Broken/bruised ribs

Due to the length of the chain, if multiple ribs break in multiple places, whumpee can get a flail chest (sharp, severe chest pain, difficulty in breathing, requires immediate medical attention)

Broken vertebrae/spine (can lead to permanent disability)

Internal bleeding (requires immediate medical attention)

Scars where the chain broke skin

Pissing of blood! This happens due to kidney injury. Depending on the extent of kidney damage, this symptom maybe harmless or very serious. In Grade 1 injury, basically there is a little contusion or a small amount of blood accumulates under the capsule. It resolves over time. In Grade 2 and 3, a small amount of blood collects around kidney. Again, they heal with time. In Grade 4, there is urine leakage and extensive laceration of the kidney blood vessels. It might require surgery. Grade 5 is a shattered or devascularized kidney with active bleeding. It's an emergency

Stiffness of movements (if there is a fight, this lack of agility on part of whumpee can prove costly)

Ignoring the injury for a long duration may cause:

Fever

Chills

Blurred vision

Nausea

Vomiting

Sometimes even convulsions

#whump #whumblr #writing tips #whump community #original post #not incorrect quotes #bbc musketeers #the musketeers #aramis #santiago cabrera #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #season 1 episode 3 #commodities #musketeers #the three musketeers #alexandre dumas #resource #writing resource #fic resource

[oldshrewsburyian]

I know no one asked, but I have more thoughts about Chapelwaite's Bookish Governess trope which I must write out before heading to campus. (You can block either 'chapelwaite' or the individualized 'my insomniac chapelwaite diaries,' which these chiefly are.)

Thanks to Charlotte Brontë (and Henry James), there is an anticipated frisson about the relationship of a Bookish Governess and her Solitary Employer. And I am both interested and extremely gratified by the refusal of this show to provide one. It provides opportunities for one, and shows it not developing! I like it! Admittedly, the situation at Chapelwaite is particularly fraught because our Captain Boone has tried and failed to acquire any other staff at all. And he is clearly conscious of this, carefully circumspect, but (also clearly) acutely lonely. When he overcomes his own reticence to offer the duplicitous Miss Morgan a drink after the children have gone to bed, he's renegotiating something, somewhat awkwardly. But also, he's starved of non-hostile adult conversation! When she finds the house's 19th-century equivalent of a first aid kit and brings it to him the morning after he gets nearly beaten to death (!), she is looking for her essay's next telling detail, and he... well, he's trying to figure out if his ribs are cracked. And he can't reach the lacerated contusion on his shoulder-blade. It's not a sensual scene. It's awkward! Nevertheless, one does become acutely aware that she is trying to provide necessary assistance while touching him as little as possible, and that he is holding himself very still in the cold dawn.

#my insomniac chapelwaite diaries #chapelwaite #gothic #the tropes are hungry #the kids! are the kids going to be okay? #i know full well that charles boone is NOT #this man is already not okay #he is becoming... not-okayer