Evie dances around Jacob, the stolen blades on her wrists glittering under the street lights. Its rare that no one else is home, just her and Jacob. So, they're taking advantage of the empty house - the empty office - to finally spar with hidden blades on. They've trained for so long with wooden approximations of their blades, when she knows that George has kept them a pair for years now.
So she took them, and Jacob was quick behind her, ready to fight. He's not keen on live steel, but if they ever have to fight a turncoat, they'll need the experience. He's treating it like a game, though, all bluff and buster.
So she lunges. He turns, and-
"Shit!" Evie shouts, watching as her brother stumbles back, his hand - and blade - reaching towards his head. "No, no no, Jacob! Stop, I'll staunch the bleeding, I'll-"
His hands still reach up, a new cut opening under the hidden blade as he reaches for the eyebrow she had cut open. George is going to kill her - not just for stealing the blades so they could spar with them, but for getting so caught up in the fight that Jacob's head is gushing from two wounds now. He could get an infection, he could need stitches, he could-
He could tear up.
"Shhh, shhh." Evie tries to comfort, falling short as she tugs him behind a tree in the garden. It wont cover them completely - it hasn't since they were six years old - but it will give her time to think.
She hasn't planned for this - she just wanted to train with live steel, like George and Father do. She's good, one of the best apprentices that George and Father are training. One of the most talented in their little brotherhood. Jacob is also good - he's not as naturally talented, even Father has said so, but he's put in the work in training. Honestly, she thought that she would end up injured, due to his lack of finesse. Not that she would slash him through the head.
"Please don't cry." Evie begs, putting a handkerchief to his head.
"Father is going to kill us." Jacob rasps, his shoulders shuddering with barely suppressed sobs.
"If George doesn't first." Evie mutters darkly, and Jacob hunches over, tears slipping out. "No, no Jacob that was funny, please don't cry that was supposed to make you laugh."
"Father's going to be disapointed in me." Jacob mutters darkly. "I should have dodged."
"I shouldn't have gone for your face." Evie won't deny that Father will be wroth with them. There's no point in lying to Jacob. If she can share some of the blame, shoulder the responsibility, then maybe Jacob won't look so betrayed. "It's my fault. Shouldn't have stolen these blades."
"It's yours now." Jacob mutters. "George said that they become yours with first blood. You've got mine on them."
Evie doesn't quite know what to think of that fact. So she doesn't, pushing it to the back of her mine while Jacob wipes blood and tears across his cheeks. She'll have to find a way to make it up to him. Maybe she can ask Father and George for help.
Are there any kind of injuries that can bleed a lot to scare the team but then the person is mostly okay after a week or two and able to go back to regular life? Nothing crazy past the initial emergency. Bonus points if the injury can be hidden for a bit before the whumpee crashes.
Generally, if you're bleeding significantly from anywhere on the torso or limbs, this is pretty serious and will likely need medical intervention, so that rules out most of the body below the neck.
However, above the neck is a different story. Have you ever picked at your face or bitten your cheek and suddenly it's practically gushing blood? That's because the head and face are extremely vascular. Head wounds tend to bleed like crazy even if they're minor and don't require serious intervention. These would probably be hard to hide though, unless your character's hair is really thick or dark. Maybe your character can wear a hat?
The Naptime: when whumpee’s taken a nasty hit and just wants to rest, droopy eyed and heavy limbed. maybe they don’t really know where they are or maybe they’re managing to keep up with caretaker/their team pretty well, but their steps are faltering fast and they’re just so, so tired. Why won’t anyone just let them sit down?
The I’m Ok!: Whumpee bounces right back after taking a hit with grace, but caretaker can see how their eyes are starting to glaze over. it’s only a matter of time before Whumpee is not ok, and caretaker’s gotta get to them before it’s too late
the 100 to 0: when Whumpee appears relatively unscathed, talking a mile a minute and checking in on everyone else- so everyone notices when whumpee suddenly stumbles over their words, frowning; swaying dangerously before hitting the ground
(bonus points for a caretaker that comes flying out of nowhere to catch them)
the Silent Treatment: Caretaker is patching whumpee up, careful to smooth gauze over wounds and apologizing when they have to do anything that might hurt. They think whumpee is purposely not responding to them, maybe frustrated or lost in thought, but when they finally look up whumpee is staring off into the distance, eyes round and glassy; completely unresponsive
the John/Jane Doe: Whumpee has mostly recovered from their traumatic ordeal and has been given the ok to return home- which quickly becomes questionable as whumpee doesn’t recognize caretaker.
(Caretaker watches the smile fall from their face.
I, uh, who are you? they ask, slow and confused, and caretaker feels their heart shatter)
alternatively; whumpee wakes up after the incident, seeming no worse for wear, but in a quiet moment turns to caretaker and asks do you know what my name is?
Fandom: Prodigal Son (2019) | Malcolm Bright & others (here: Gil Arroyo)
General tags: (Emotional) Hurt/Comfort, Angst, (Angst with Humor)
Prompts/Warnings for this drabble: curse (no. 17 from this post) / open + ambiguous ending, panic
“Gil, I swear to you! I know it sounds crazy, but…but she did something to me!”
Malcom’s eyes were wide, shiny and bloodshot, pupils blown.
Gil swallowed and pushed the younger man back, wiped away a sweaty strand of hair.
“Please don’t talk that way, you don’t sound ‘crazy’ at all, Bright.” He made sure to put the quotation marks into his voice. “She didn’t put a curse on you.”
He pulled the bedcover back up to Malcolm’s chin, his eyes flicking to his ears for a second. No blood.
“You took a hit. She didn’t-“
“No, Gil. Gil, you have to listen to me.”, Malcolm babbled, trying to kick the covers back again, already fighting to sit back up.
“Sh-she made me vomit blood Gil, there were hives, all over me, y-you weren’t there, but she did. She did, Gil!” Malcolm sounded terrified, voice getting louder with every word. Gil’s attempts to gently press the younger man back down proved pointless.
Malcolm grabbed Gil by his shoulders, suddenly pausing – he looked straight ahead, glancing just behind Gil, whose neck hair stood up immediately.
He suppressed the urge to turn his head. It was the concussion, and Malcolm being scared out of his mind, being awake while trapped in a feverish nightmare.
“She’s…Gil…she’s here.”, Malcolm whispered.
Gil slid his hands up Malcolm’s shoulders and put them on Malcolm’s cheeks.
“Please, kid. It’s alright.”, he said in a soft voice. “Hey, please. Look at me.”
Malcolm’s eyes wandered over to him, meeting his gaze for a moment before jumping back to something behind Gil. Good enough.
“Curses aren’t real.” Gil said gently, trying to catch Malcolm’s eyes again, blocking his view.
Malcolm’s eyes widened.
“I beg to differ.”, a voice behind Gil cackled.
“Told you.”, Malcolm whispered and closed his eyes.
Oddly specific whump question: what would the effects be on a person who got hit over the head by a spiked object, specifically a morningstar?
Instant death, I imagine, unless it just grazes them and then you’ll have a pretty nasty head wound that’s going to bleed profusely. I don’t think someone who gets hit in the head by one of these is going to make it:
In the March, 1943 edition of the US Army’s Intelligence Bulletin, a short article discusses a British study of combat head injuries and the protection afforded by various styles of steel helmet.
The article refers to a report written by a British medical officer serving in North Africa. The officer examined 150 cases of localised skull fractures, 90% of which occurred during fighting in the Western Desert (Egypt and Libya). The majority of the head wounds were believed to have been caused by shell and grenade fragments.
British troops wearing the old pattern and the new MkIII helmets during fighting in Caen in 1944 (source)
The report showed that a considerable portion of the skull was not protected by the Brodie helmet worn by British troops (and until 1941, by the US). With a large number of fractures being reported on the forehead and above the ears. The diagram above shows how the older Brodie helmet, developed during World War One failed to protect a significant proportion of the skull.
The diagram shows the outline of the old British helmet and the new proposed helmet, the MkIII, which had been developed in the early 1940s, as a result of the earlier helmet’s inadequacies, but was only introduced in 1944. It also shows the outline of the new US M1 helmet, which appears to provide the best protection of the three.
Source:
Military Reports on United Nations, No.2, 15 January 1943, Military Intelligence Division, War Department, pp.34-5
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Head wound is sooper swollen today, and achy, but in a "getting lightly punched" way instead of last night's "getting stabbed in the skull."
On the plus side, this was an excuse to get a tetanus (and whooping cough, and diphtheria) shot! Safe from anti-vaxxers for at least another ten years.
(also an excuse to share this headache-puppy pic I found)
