#clinical whump

[oliversrarebooks]

chemical imbalance

You know that trope where horrifying things are treated as mundane? You know that trope where the whumper is talking around the whumpee like they aren't even a person? This is that story.

TW: alien abduction, alien parasites, body horror, brainwashing, mind control, restraints, tentacles, forced drugging, forced medical examination, complete dehumanization, condescension, defiant whumpee

The receptionist was young and lovely, their skin a fetching shade of blue-purple, and their human host was healthy and smiling, with the dazed, glassy expression that indicated it was well taken care of.

5X2 couldn't help the wave of intense jealousy. Their own human host's gut churned in panic. It was lucid enough to know it was being brought to the doctor, and didn't like the idea at all, stress hormones flooding its fragile body. 5X2 pumped out chemicals to soothe it, beamed calming imagery into its mind, even tried to reassure it through its psychic connection that it was just the doctor, the doctor was going to help it, and hopefully they'd both be feeling better. 

All of their efforts only put the smallest dent in the distress their host was feeling. Well, no wonder -- 5X2 couldn't even remember the last time their poor host had properly slept. They took a deep breath, reassuring their human host that they weren't angry at it, not at all. They loved their host and knew it wasn't its fault it was struggling so hard. The host thrashed mentally, adrenaline rising, coming dangerously close to waking fully as 5X2 wrangled its consciousness back under control.

"I'm 5X2-YLL, and I'm here for my 3100 appointment," they said to the receptionist, hoping they couldn't tell how much trouble they were having with their human.

Sympathetic waves rolled from the receptionist as they looked 5X2 up and down. Oh, they could tell. 5X2 knew their human looked an absolute mess, with a wild expression, deep bags under its eyes, and poor hygiene. The past few days, 5X2 had even taken sick leave from work, embarrassed to go out in public in this state -- that's how they knew they had no choice but to make a doctor's appointment.

"Right this way, 5X2. The doctor is running a bit behind, but if you'll just go into this examination room, they'll be with you shortly. Please have your host change into this medical gown... if you're able."

"Yes, thank you." The door clicked shut behind the receptionist as 5X2 looked around the small examination room. It looked like any other doctor's office, but they couldn't help but notice that the examination chair had formidable looking restraints on it. They supposed it was to be expected for a doctor who specialized in disorders of host control.

The far too lucid human noticed too, and all of its muscles tensed as it signaled to every corner of its body to escape, escape, escape. 5X2 had no choice but to inject yet another low dose of paralytics into its bloodstream, just to make sure it couldn't actually act on that misguided impulse. 

The paralytics kept the human from moving, but also meant that 5X2 had to do much more manual work puppeting its body, and they were so, so tired. With their host's clumsy fingers, they pulled off their shoes, shirt, and pants, and slipped on the flimsy medical gown. The human was expressing distress at having their physical form exposed, of all the ridiculous things. Sometimes 5X2 wished that its constant fears at least made sense. Instead, it was scared of the doctor, of being nude, even of the everyday, ordinary sight of other human hosts with their passengers atop their heads, tentacles nestled neatly in their ears and euphoric expressions on their faces.

I'm trying to help you, 5X2 conveyed through their psychic connection for what seemed like the billionth time this cycle.

All they got back in return was terror, anger, and the intense desire to go home.

We can go home after the appointment, 5X2 reminded it, beaming soothing images of their quarters, the cheery artificial sun lamp, their collection of exotic plants, their vibrant fiber arts, the beautiful view of stars from out of their window. Their host had always been calmed by these things in better days, but it wasn't working now. It didn't make any sense to 5X2 -- if it wanted to go home so badly, why didn't it respond to sensory landscapes of home? 

Surely it wasn't lucid enough to desire its human habitat...? The human habitat was a death world compared to the safety and comfort of the space station.

There was a knock on the door, and the doctor walked into the room. They carried an air of authority about them, perched on top of a petite human who moved with unusual grace. "Hello, 5X2," said the doctor in a kindly voice. "I understand you're here because you're having difficulty in controlling your human host. Is that correct?"

5X2 looked anywhere but at the doctor, pretending to be very interested in a cabinet full of jars of multi-colored fluids. "Ah, yes, that's correct."

"There's no need to be ashamed. There's a lot of unfair stigma attached to host difficulties, but I assure you that it's a far more common problem than you think. There's no judgement here. Please, tell me about what you've been experiencing."

"My human host is almost completely lucid for most of the cycle," 5X2 confessed, trying to suppress their waves of shame and sadness. "I can't keep it fully entranced, I can't soothe it, I can't even put it to sleep. It's constantly scared and stressed and won't stop filling its body with adrenaline."

"I see."

"I have to spend so much of my energy just keeping it from fully waking, and it's affecting my work and my social life. I can't even relax on my days off, because every time I let my guard down, it decides it's a good time to fight me," they said. "I love my host, but I'm at my limit. I can't go on like this. It's sick all of the time from stress hormones, and I'm constantly fatigued. If there's anything you can do, anything at all that would help..."

The doctor's host nodded sagely. "There's a number of common conditions that could cause symptoms like you're describing. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a blood sample from your host so we can run some lab tests while conducting the examination."

"Of course," said 5X2, holding out their host's arm while the doctor prepared a needle for the blood draw. As the needle grazed the host's skin, the human managed to wrest enough control to jerk backwards, irrationally panicked at the sight of the needle. "I'm so sorry. It's been especially determined to fight me on everything today."

"It's nothing to worry about. I see it all the time. Hosts can be smarter than we give them credit for -- it's probably realized that the doctor's appointment is for putting it back under."

"But why does it fight that? That doesn't make any sense -- doesn't it want to be calm and happy? Why would it want to be stressed and miserable?"

"Oh, it's not that it wants to be stressed and miserable. It's just the natural state of hosts that aren't fully entranced. It's not its fault that it's acting this way -- it just doesn't know any better," said the doctor. "To make the examination easier, it might be best if we strapped your host into the chair, if you don't mind the restricted mobility."

"Not at all. It'd be a relief to not have to suppress their impulses," said 5X2. Their human predictably howled with displeasure, scraping and clawing for any bit of control over its limbs as 5X2 fought its body into the chair and tried to hold it still as the doctor restrained it. It was even managing to resist the paralytics, utterly desperate to escape.

If this doctor couldn't help them, 5X2 was going to lose their mind.

With the host's body securely restrained, the doctor was finally able to take a blood sample. The human's consciousness was thrashing like a wounded dust-moth, but with their body secured, 5X2 could devote their whole efforts to dampening their mental distress.

"If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll bring this to the lab. We should get results in around ten deciclicks."

5X2 tried to relax in the chair as the doctor left the room, but of course their exhausting host was having none of it.

Why are you fighting so hard? they asked.

The answer was always the same.

I want to go home. I don't want to be a host. I don't want to be hypnotized again. Please let me go.

Incoherent nonsense. The poor, confused thing.

"All right, that's taken care of," said the doctor, entering the room and perching on a nearby stool. "Now, may I ask you some questions? How long have you been noticing these symptoms?"

"About a quarter star turn."

"I see. And have you previously sought help for them?"

"...No. I really should have, before it got to this point, but I was ashamed. I thought it was temporary, and that I could fix my host myself."

"At least you're here now. You're doing the right thing," said the doctor encouragingly. "How often does the human sleep?"

"Only once every few cycles, and for only a few clicks at a time. I can't keep it to anything resembling a schedule, either, and it doesn't seem to respond to sedation at all. The only mercy is that it often sleeps while I'm at work."

"And how do you normally soothe it?"

"I think I've tried just about everything. Before this all started, it was so easy -- a quick wash of sedative and neurotoxin, some soothing hallucinations, a little gentle urging of slumber, and it was out in a milliclick. It would normally sleep for half the cycle. But now, nothing works. Not toxins, not hallucinations, not psychic compulsions. It doesn't matter what I do, I simply cannot put it to sleep.  The only reason it sleeps at all is because its own consciousness turns itself off when it becomes too exhausted."

"You say it was easily controlled before?"

"Very much so. It took very well to deep trance, especially if I was listening to music. It enjoyed art and scenery and was calm as can be. I never imagined it was capable of so much anxiety."

"How close is its consciousness to the surface?"

"...Very. It's listening to everything we're saying. It might even be able to understand us. Well, as much as any host is capable of understanding."

"Has it ever become fully awake?"

5X2 hesitated.

"Please, don't be ashamed. I'm here to help you, but I need you to answer my questions honestly. Has it ever become fully awake?"

"...A handful of times," 5X2 admitted. "It didn't get very far before I was able to paralyze it and return it to my control, but... it was so terrifying, to feel my host wake, to take full control from me and do what it wished with its body."

"That's a very traumatic experience," said the doctor sympathetically. "Once we have the main issue sorted out, I recommend a visit to memory alteration to remove the unnecessary fear generation."

"Won't they judge me for losing control of my human?"

The doctor seemed lightly amused. "5X2, it's the memory alteration department. Don't you think they've seen far worse than that?"

"You're right, just a silly insecurity on my part," said 5X2, mirroring the doctor's amusement.

"Let me perform some quick examinations on your host's body while we have you here," said the doctor. "Your host is partially lucid and fearful right now, correct?"

"Extremely so," said 5X2, feeling the horrible squirm in their host's gut at the mention of the doctor examining it.

The doctor waved a small light in front of the human's eyes. "Pupils are very dilated. It's focusing clearly on my light, indicating a high degree of responsiveness. Dark circles indicate a dangerous lack of sleep, and the skin seems unusually flaky and dry. This all matches the symptoms you've described."

They moved around to 5X2's side, using the light to peer into its host's ear. "Everything looks healthy and normal here," they said, giving a slight tug to 5X2's left connector tentacle. "Connection seems firm. I assume it's enmeshed with the correct portions of the brain? You have at least six tendrils on each side of the frontal lobe, three in the parietal, and two in the occipital?"

"Of course, doctor."

"I know it sounds obvious, but I have to ask. Believe it or not, I've had more than one patient that neglected to enmesh the frontal lobe entirely. You can imagine what kind of a state their poor host was in."

"I'm amazed that anyone in this age is so ignorant. That sounds like torture for them."

"You're not wrong," said the doctor, clicking off their light. "From the outside, there doesn't seem to be any issues, but if we can't resolve the problem, we may need to do some scans to check that all of your tendrils are properly connected. It's uncommon, but there are certain disorders that prevent proper cohesion of tendril to host brain."

"I'll subject myself to any tests if it will help."

"I know how intensely uncomfortable it must be to have your host so wakeful, for both you and it," said the doctor. "I'm certain we can help you. It's extremely rare for this sort of problem to be beyond the reach of modern medicine."

A knock at the door, and the receptionist entered the room. "I have the results from the lab for you," they said, slipping out again quickly.

The doctor's host took the readout and looked it over, as 5X2 waited in anticipation and 5X2's host trembled in terror. Finally, there was a wave of satisfaction from the doctor. "I have good news for you, 5X2. The lab results may have given us an important clue to your problem."

"Truly? What is it?"

"You see here..." The doctor placed the readout in front of 5X2. It was full of miniature graphs and jargon that they didn't have a hope of understanding. "Most of the toxin levels in the human's blood were highly elevated -- no doubt due to your efforts to keep it under control -- but one in particular was abnormally low, almost undetectable."

"And that is?"

"In basic terms, it's a powerful hypnotic, the primary toxin used to keep the human mind asleep and docile. Without this important chemical, your host's mind is far more alert than it should ever be. That makes it less receptive to all of your efforts to soothe it, allows stress and fear hormones to build up in its delicate brain, and causes it to resist being put to sleep."

"And that's what's missing?" said 5X2, feeling waves of relief at having an answer.

"It would seem so. The absence of this hypnotic would make it next to impossible to keep a healthy human under trance. It's no wonder your efforts to sedate and entrance your host were fruitless. I'm honestly impressed you were able to walk into my office."

"Is there a cure?"

"There are a few different conditions that can cause this. To start with, I'm going to give you a prescription for a course of medication that should help promote the natural release of this chemical from your toxin glands. It has a few minor potential side effects, which the informational packet will describe."

"No side effects can possibly be worse than what I'm going through now. How long will that take to have an effect?"

"It should be at full strength in eight to ten cycles. We can see how you're responding, then, and I can advise you on a further course of treatment."

5X2 steadied themself. Eight to ten cycles. They could endure eight to ten more cycles.

"But in the meantime, we can simply inject your host with a big, healthy dose of the chemical cocktail it's been missing."

5X2's elation was almost drowned out by its host's panic and despair. "You can do that? You can do that right now?"

"Certainly," said the doctor, pulling a jar of translucent blue liquid from a shelf. "Let me prepare the injection. It's all natural and safe for both of you. I'm sure you're both eager to get some reprieve from fighting each other."

"And I'll be able to put my host to sleep? To keep it under trance?"

"With this extra strength, time release formula, it should be well out of it for the next few cycles, exceedingly simple to control. You can both finally get the rest you need."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, you don't know how much of a relief that is."

No! No, no, no! the human was screaming through their connection. Don't let them inject me with that! Let me go! I want to go home! I need to wake up -- I need to --

"I need to wake up!" 

5X2 felt their consciousness suddenly cut off from their host's body as the human woke. It pulled at the restraints, trying to get its hand free.

"Please let me go! Don't do this!" the human yelled, as the doctor looked on with curiosity.

"Oh, you're awake? Now, now, we're only trying to help you," said the doctor. "Aren't you tired of fighting? Aren't you scared and hurting?"

"I'm scared and hurting because of what you're doing to me! This isn't right! Humans aren't meant to live like this -- you've taken my entire life from me!" Tears streamed down its face. "You're a doctor -- if you have any compassion at all, please listen to me! We don't want to be hypnotized and turned into puppets. We don't want to spend our whole lives sleeping and hallucinating and floating along in a mindless trance. We want to be free!"

The doctor patted its head. "I know this must all seem so scary to you, but it's only because of a chemical imbalance. That's why your passenger brought you here to the doctor, to help you. Your passenger loves you very much and only wants the best for you. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't want this. This is wrong -- please listen!"

"You're going to feel so much better in just a few minutes. I promise. Just trust me," said the doctor, their host easily pinning down 5X2's host's restrained arm and administering the injection. 

"No, please!" 5X2's host struggled uselessly against the tight restraints, its panic reaching a fever pitch, as 5X2 sat in their own mind and watched. "Please! Please listen! Let me go! Let me... go..."

The human host's body relaxed, sagging against the restraints as its control over itself suddenly diminished. 5X2 could feel a lovely sense of peace wash over their host, a sensation they hadn't felt in a quarter star turn. 

5X2, eager to take back its host, sent deep, hypnotic compulsions to fog its host's mind, to sink it into a pleasant daze, to pull it back under their control, and they were delighted when the host responded swiftly and easily. All of that fight, that fear, that anger began to evaporate like mist as 5X2 gently soothed its host into a trance.

You want to be a good host, 5X2 coaxed. You want to stop resisting. You want to weaken your feeble mental defenses and let me in.

I want to... Their host's thoughts were faltering and slow, easy to manipulate, just as they should be. I want to be a good host... want to let you in... want to drop my defenses... stop resisting...

Yes, that's right. Lower those defenses. You're safe, completely safe. You can relax now.

There was only a slight hesitation before the response. Safe... relax...

 5X2 felt the human's resistance melt away, leaving its mind like soft clay in their grasp.

Finally.

5X2 rewarded their host's compliance with a pleasant vision of the ship's recreation district, filled with laughter and games and live music, one that their host used to be fond of before it became impossibly defiant. Their host latched onto the familiar, mollifying hallucination right away, like a young one with its comfort-toy.

Fun... pretty...

Yes, it is fun and pretty, said 5X2. You deserve it, because you're being very good right now. Aren't you glad I took you to the doctor?

Feels... hazy...

And isn't that good?

Mmhmm... good... so good... thank you...

"How is it feeling now?" asked the doctor. "Any better?"

"Oh, yes, that was absolutely brilliant," said 5X2. "It's completely docile and enjoying its favorite hallucination right now. I can't thank you enough."

"Excellent. I'm just glad that worked. I'll make an appointment for you ten cycles from now, and give you the prescriptions for the medication I recommend, along with a course of injectables to keep your host nice and compliant. It shouldn't give you any more trouble."

"That sounds perfect."

"I recommend putting your host to sleep for the next cycle. It must be so fatigued after all of that pointless struggle, and a prolonged period of rest will help it to reacclimate to your control."

"I don't think I need to worry about the last part," said 5X2 gleefully. "It seems so relieved to be back under. But I agree that it needs sleep. Maybe I can get some sleep too."

5X2's host was already flooded with the injected sedative, so they sent a simple but strong compulsion to lull it asleep. Its exhausted mind responded right away, filling it with a deep, irresistible drowsiness, its remaining thoughts dulling and fading as it drifted away peacefully. The cheerful hallucination of the recreational zone would give it pleasant dreams. 5X2 couldn't remember the last time their host had been so quiet, not a hint of stress or nightmares.

It was so charming to feel their delightful host curling up comfortably in its own mind and going to sleep. It reminded 5X2 of how much they loved their host, before everything had gone wrong.

"It worked," said 5X2 in awe.

"Asleep already? I thought so. It was so worn out."

"Thank you again, doctor, for all of your help. My host wanted to thank you, too, before it fell asleep. I can tell that it already feels so much happier."

"It's my pleasure." The doctor released 5X2's host from the chair. 

5X2 stood up, shedding the medical gown and putting the host's clothes back on its body. Control was simple and seamless now, the host's body moving exactly in accordance with 5X2's wishes. They could hardly believe what a difference a little chemical persuasion made. With their newfound freedom, a part of them wanted to go out and indulge in all of the fine pleasures they had missed out on for so long -- but really, they knew it would be far more prudent to go home and sleep.

They'd do that after they picked up those prescriptions, of course. They weren't going to let a simple chemical imbalance ruin their life any more.

Masterlist

It's always the weirdest things you need to get out of your system, right? I don't know where this came from, but I'm tempted to write more about this alien parasite society. Like how they acquire humans, and how other pairs are doing...

What would you do if you had a passenger of your own?

#whump #whump writing #alien #alien abduction #alien parasite #alien whump #defiant whumpee #brainwashing #hypnosis #drugging #medical whump #clinical whump #pet whump #kind of #dehumanization

[distinctlywhumpthing]

The Doctor Will See You Now...

In collaboration with @hold-him-down!

Send an emoji and a character name for a drabble! 

🩺 Take a deep breath 🩻 Foreign object where it shouldn’t be 🧠 Seizures 🥼 Administering first aid on themselves 👩‍⚕️ Sadistic doctor seeks to hurt ⛺ Field medicine  🧑‍⚕️ The good doctor in the bad place  👨‍⚕️ Untrained person providing medical intervention 💉 Put in a central line 🩹 Bleeding out 💊 Forced to swallow pills  🧤 Invasive/Uncomfortable exam 🤮 Medically-induced vomiting 🧃 Laced drink 🥄 Force-feeding 🤧 It’s just a cold (it’s not) 😵 Unexplained fainting 🤒 Fever-induced hallucination 😷 A necessary quarantine  🤢 Crying so hard they throw up 🤕 Trephination (release those evil spirits)  🛌 Assault while medically restrained  🏥 Abandoned hospital  🧊 Medically induced hypothermia 🩼 Chronic pain 🦽 Too weak to walk 🚑 Rushed to the hospital 🔪 Awake surgery 🩸 Losing a lot of blood 🤝 Someone holding their hand through the worst of it 🪢 Medical restraints 🫀 Heart palpitations 🫙 We’ll need to take a sample  ⏰ Nothing left to do but wait and see  ❤️‍🩹 Code blue 🪡 That’s gonna need stitches 🧽 Receiving a sponge bath 💐 Awkward/Painful visit 👕 Hospital gown 🧬 Genetically modified  🦠 Unidentified virus 🦴 I think it’s broken… 🧪 Experimental drug with side effects 🪣 Bucket next to the bed 🔫 Digging out a bullet 🫁 Intubation/Extubation 🦷 Bite down on this

#prompt list #med whump #medical whump #clinical whump #hospital whump #surgical whump #sick fic #fever fic #accidental whump #injury whump #whump #whump writing

[peachy-panic]

Already a Number

NO PLOT, ALL WHUMP. Brought to you by this conversation I had with @hold-him-down once. Early Jaime. 

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-Adjacent, restraints, gags, clinical setting, detached whumper, noncon body mod (I guess?), forced tattoo removal

“How high would you rate your pain tolerance on a scale of one to ten?”

The question makes Jaime look up from where he’s unlacing his cleats. He slides his foot off the edge of the bench, letting it hit the locker room floor with a thud.

“I’m afraid to ask why,” he says warily.

Derek smiles at him with a look Jaime knows means trouble.

They just finished their first game of the season and walked off the field winners. Jaime’s heart is still pounding from the doozy of a fourth quarter, his curls matted to his forehead and his jersey discarded on the locker room floor.

He tries very hard—and mostly succeeds—not to let his eyes drift down to Derek’s bare chest.

“Dylan knows a guy,” Derek says, shimmying out of his shorts. “He’s willing to give us a group discount if we go get our numbers inked tonight. Celebrate our win.”

Jaime blinks at him. “Matching tattoos?” he asks, incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Well. ‘Matching’ implies we’re all getting the same number. So, no.”

“Smartass.”

“You’re in, right?” When Jaime hesitates, Derek swats him with his rolled up shirt. “Come on, J. Don’t be a party pooper.”

He laughs, batting away his halfhearted strikes.  “How would me not putting permanent ink on my body, in any way, poop on your party?”

“Because,” Derek answers confidently, “it won’t be fun if you’re not there.”

Oh.

Well that… okay.

Jaime quickly turns to his locker, pretending to be very preoccupied with the task of shoving his cleats into his bag.

Judging by the smile on Derek’s face when Jaime turns around, they both know he’s won.

__

He lets Derek talk him into the inner arm, right on the curve of his bicep. Jaime has never thought much about that area–particularly how sensitive it might be under a series of needle strikes–until he lifts his arm above his head and grips the leather headrest on the tattoo chair.

Dylan and Xavier are already across the room, admiring their new tattoos in the mirror along the wall, but Jaime can’t look away from the artist’s eyes as he scans over his blank canvas.

It’s fine, he tells himself. It’s the number seven; two strokes of a tattoo gun and it’s over. He can handle that.

“Nervous?” Derek asks from beside him. He’s sitting in an identical chair parallel to his, arm arched up over his head in a mirror image of Jaime’s. He tries not to let his eyes linger too long on the pale stretch of his muscle obstructing half his face.

Jaime levels him a look. “No,” he lies.

Derek smiles.

“Ready?” The tattoo artist raises her gun and catches his eye.

Jaime manages a stiff nod, and an even less convincing smile, then tightens his fingers around the edge of the headrest.

“Hey.” His eyes flick over to Derek’s once more, then fall to the outstretched hand he is offering.

Jaime stares at it for a moment, then forces his body to cooperate. Tentatively, he reaches out and joins their hands in the space between their chairs.

He squeezes tight when the tip of the gun makes first contact, but that’s not the sensation that has his skin buzzing from the inside out.

***

~SIX MONTHS LATER

Jaime is still riding out the tail-end of withdrawal when a handler drags him out of his cell and into a room he hasn’t seen before. 

It’s long and narrow, lined with three identical stainless steel tables. The one furthest from the door is occupied, but Jaime doesn’t get a close look at the figure before he is hauled roughly onto his own table.

A palm on his chest crushes him flat, and there’s another set of hands on him right away; one person on each side of him, pulling his arms above his head with practiced, detached efficiency. His legs are next. He doesn’t have the strength to even think about resisting by the time his limbs are locked down.

His head is still pounding, and the nausea he’s been fighting for a week has been stirred again by the exertion of traveling from his cell.

He turns his head at the sound of a muffled cry. The man on the other table jerks wildly in his restraints as a woman in a lab coat hovers over his forearm. Jaime can’t make out what’s happening from his vantage point, but it’s painful, whatever it is. His heart hammers a little harder in his chest.

“Just the one.” The handler’s voice draws his attention back. “On his arm.” Jaime blinks as he realizes he is not talking to him, but to the lab worker hovering on the other side of the table.

Cold realization settles over him as the man focuses his gaze on the tattoo on Jaime’s inner arm. A cursory glance at the screaming man confirms it.

When the woman at his side sits back long enough to readjust her stance, Jaime sees the half-faded sleeve of ink along the length of his arm.

Sweat prickles on his back, uncomfortably slick against the table.

He doesn’t mean to, but he must make some sort of noise that is interpreted as resistance, because the handler releases a sigh and reaches under the table. A second later, Jaime is resisting; hands pulling uselessly at his restraints at the sight of that… that fucking—

A hand in his hair yanks his head back, and the bit is forced between his teeth before he can so much as plead. He breathes through the panic as the straps are secured behind his head.

“Seven, huh?” The man in the lab coat asks, dragging an alcohol wipe over his tattoo. Jaime can’t suppress the flinch, and he wonders if he will ever get used to people touching him so casually. So freely.

The man doesn’t seem particularly cruel, which is more than he can say for most of the other employees he’s met so far. It almost feels like he’s genuinely curious and trying to make conversation, despite the gag pressing Jaime’s tongue down.

The handler at his side is not so charitable. He leans down until he’s staring directly into Jaime’s eyes, less than a foot away.

“Already used to being marked as a number.” His eyes dance with naked amusement over Jaime’s face. “Should make for an easy transition.”

Jaime breathes heavily through his nose, refusing to look away.

“I’ve got him from here,” the lab worker interjects tersely.

Jaime exhales as the handler pulls away, but his relief is short-lived. Latex snaps around the other man’s hand, followed by the mechanical whir of a machine coming to life. He drags his eyes over to meet his once again.

“You’re lucky,” the man says, pulling on his other glove. “It’s a small tattoo, not particularly dark. It should only take a few rounds.”

He has learned by now to answer direct statements with a nod of acknowledgment, so he does. A twitch of something apologetic betrays the man’s features for half a second.

“Still, it won’t be pleasant,” he explains, as if there is not a man actively screaming through the process twenty feet to his left. “Normally patients are numbed for this procedure, and it would be done in sessions.”

No need to elaborate on the unspoken ‘but.’

“You might want to bite down on that.”

That’s the only precursor he gets. The sound of the snap reaches him before the pain does, but it’s not far behind.

He tries to remember the sensation of Derek’s fingers twisted in his.

Thirty minutes pass.

That’s how long it takes to force the first, but certainly not the last, good memory from Jaime. Not all of the ones that follow are removed in such a physically poetic way as ink being pulled from flesh.

By the time he is released from his restraints, the man across the room is on his third bout of unconsciousness.

Good, Jaime thinks as he is pulled from the room. He hopes, for his sake, this one sticks.

__

Do No Harm Tag List: @whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump @nicolepascaline @anotherbluntpencil @hold-him-down @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @batfacedliar-yetagain @thecyrulik @pumpkin-spice-whump @melancholy-in-the-morning @also-finder-of-rings @insaneinthepaingame @skyhawkwolf @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @mylifeisonthebookshelf @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-world @inpainandsuffering @cicatrix-energy @quietly-by-myself @whumpsday @extemporary-whump

#Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian #no rereading before we post we die like men #whump #whump writing #whumplr #tw: tattoo removal #noncon body modification #BBU #like bbu adjacent? #lab whump #sort of #clinical whump

[montammil]

Whump - clinical trials

TW: Medical whump, doctor whumper, drug trials, surgical trials, psychological trials, gaslighting, manipulation, carewhumper doctor (for surgical trial part), creepy Whumper

Whumpee is in a desperate financial situation, so they decide to volunteer for some clinical/medical trials. The riskier and longer, the more money, so they think it’s worth it, only to realize they’re wrong too late.

BUT what kind of clinical trials would they do?

Imagine drug trials. Whumper intentionally giving them too many, hurting them, threatening them, teasing them, because no one will believe Whumpee, it’s just the drugs. And Whumper will often make it clear Whumpee is too delirious to go home, but they so kindly offer to keep watch of them for the night, much to Whumpee’s horror.

Imagine behavioral/psychological trials. But it’s much darker than it is in reality. Whumpee thinks everything will be fine, just some psychotherapy and behavioral interventions, but it’s anything but that. They didn’t read over the contract, and basically just volunteered to be put through various methods of psychological torture.

Imagine surgical trials. Maybe Whumpee has some kind of condition that has no known cure and it’s a last resort, or maybe Whumpee isn’t even human and is volunteering to be a guinea pig for the large amounts of money. Whumper ends up taking a liking to Whumpee, and Whumpee also fails to read through the entire contract. So Whumper purposefully makes the surgeries more painful and invasive, loving the dependence Whumpee has on them.

And Whumpee is none the wiser, thinking Whumper is just a good person trying to help them out. When Whumper makes up more reasons why surgeries need to be preformed, Whumpee doesn’t question it. When Whumper makes Whumpee’s state worse than when they came in, Whumpee believes it’s all part of the process.

...and when Whumpee starts questioning everything, Whumper decides it’s time to move onto more permanent surgeries, not wanting to risk losing their dependence on them.

#this is pretty bad but just take it lol #i know practically nothing about clinical trials so lets just pretend this is in a more whumpy universe #whump #medical whump #drug whump #surgery whump #surgical whump #psychological whump #tw drugging #tw drugs #tw psychological torture #tw medical #tw surgery #whump scenario #whump idea #whump ideas #doctor whump #patient whumpee #whump prompt #whumpblr #lab whump #creepy whumper

[whumpshaped]

from this @skittles-the-whumpee

Lab whump with a whumpee was grown in a lab so there's technically nothing illegal but over time the human clone lab rat starts gaining sentience.

tw lab whump, hospital-esque setting, mention of a bunch of medical equipment and procedures but nothing really descriptive, nonhuman (clone?) whumpee, death wish at the very end

whumper is clinical and cold, never really caring about their test subject

whumper is actually fond of the little lab rat... so long as they're obedient and perfect for their purpose

whumper is a little reluctant from the get go. is this really okay? when whumpee starts showing signs of sentience, these feelings of doubt start getting out of control

whumpee loves their owner. loves the lab. the experiments can be harsh, but the first feelings they experience are love and joy

whumpee hates the lab. hates hates hates it more than anything. the first feelings they experience are rage and hatred

whumpee knows nothing but pain and isolation. the first feelings they experience are loneliness and terror

the lab itself is a dubious place where many things are hush hush, and everyone only ever knows as much as they absolutely must

it's not a tight knit community by any means. everyone keeps to themselves. whumper is just as isolated as whumpee - they kind of only have each other for company

whumpee starts asking questions like who am i? where am i? why am i?

whumper explains the experiment and whumpee is horrified

whumper tells whumpee they don't need to know about any of that

cages and syringes and white coats and white walls and sterile environments and surgical tables and surgical tools and sutures and incisions and blinding lights and leather straps and metal restraints and paper gowns and the constant buzzing of the equipment and beeping of the monitors

whumpee is a clone. an actual clone made of a real person's stolen dna. whumpee manages to escape and runs into someone who looks just like them

whumpee is actually made of whumper's dna. whumper is doing all these experiments on someone who looks exactly like themself. whumpee doesn't even realise this because there are no mirrors- they have no idea what they look like

whumper

"getting a little too emotional there, are we? i suppose it's time to make a new one again, start fresh."

"don't pretend to understand things like that. emotions, thoughts and feelings... they're not for you."

"i know exactly what you can and can't feel because i made you."

"i'd say it's for the greater good, but honestly? it's not. they're in it for the money, i'm in it for the money, and you're in it because you don't have a choice."

"you... can feel that?"

"where did you hear that? / where did you learn that?"

"you weren't supposed to be able to cry."

whumpee

"i don't understand! i don't understand anything! please! please help me understand!"

"i can feel this horrible pain in my chest regardless of the amount of painkillers and i don't get it. why won't it go away?"

"i've never had water come out of my eyes like that before... not- not in this quantity- is, is this something new you've done to me?"

"i just can't stop. i can't stop shaking."

"please stop hurting me. i don't think i can take it anymore. i don't want to take it."

"whenever you leave... i get so restless. like i want to run after you, be somewhere near you. it must be intentional, right? is that to prevent me from escaping? but i've never felt it before..."

"this thing... this state called death. i think that's what i really want."

~

@ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump

#i put this in my drafts and forgot to do it #lab whump #medical whump #nonhuman whumpee #hospital setting #clinical setting #death wish #whump #whump prompts #whump prompt list

[whump-captain]

he won't die but that's honestly where the problem begins

[ID in alt (and click for quality tumblr Why do you do this)]

#whump #whump art #gore #gore art #oc whump #slit throat #blood #injury #captain's ocs #captain's stuff #kintsugi #see when a person has an alien entity inside them trying to fix their body #losing blood is less of an issue than what that blood might then get replaced with #(this isn't canon but only bc the scar would mess w/ ethan's design lol) #i spent longer than it would seem on this #couldn't decide on how i wanted to render it #also i am having a clinically ungroovy time recently so i'm just glad i drew something lol

[weirdstrangeandawful]

TW: gun mention, poison, medical whump, coerced consent

‘Welcome Whumpee!’ Whumper’s maniacal grin spreads slowly across their face, ‘if you would just sign the consent form, that would be great. If not, don’t worry, you’ll sign eventually.’

‘What am I consenting to?’ Whumpee shudders.

‘Oh just the usual clinical trial stuff. Plus, you know, my own system. Had to add a little flair of my own after all. I’ve replaced the placebo group with something a little more… special if you will.’

‘What… what did you replace it with?’

A lab assistant frantically mouths ‘poison’ over Whumper’s shoulder.

Without a moment’s thought, Whumper unholsters a gun and shoots them dead without looking back. ‘Now… where we’re we? Ah yes,’ they casually point the weapon at Whumpee, ‘Are you planning to sign or not?’

#whump #whump prompt #clinical trial whump #medical whump #poison #gun mention

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Homesick

CW; Some dehumanizing language (not much, and not purposeful), nonhuman whumpee, lab whump aftermath, blood, medical whump, mer whump, needle references, clinical depression

Signs of the Sea Masterlist

-

BAHRAM’S NOTES

Written on paper with pen, kept folded in a copy of Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

January 15th, 20XX

1:42 am

Mer in Residence: 93 Days

He’s homesick. I mean, of course he is. I’d be homesick too if they’d taken me away from my parents when I was a kid and dumped me in an enclosure that looks like the uncanny valley version of my life, surrounded me with things who don’t speak like I do and had to learn to communicate by force just to beg for mercy I don’t get

I’m dwelling again. Maman keeps telling me not to dwell, that that’s how everything fell apart before. Why I ended up dropping out, how I fell headfirst into the universe’s oddest babysitting job in the first place. I mean, she doesn’t say that, exactly - she doesn’t know just what I’m doing. Maman and Baba think I’m watching an orca calf. 

I think that’s what I told them, anyway.

Honestly, things are kind of running together, and that’s scary - that’s what happened before. The days run together, I spend more time lying down than upright, and eventually the haze just gets heavier. I stop reading, I stop gaming, eventually I just... stop. I can't do it again. I can't.

I told Maman I might go back on my medication. She said, you know, that’s up to me. She wanted me back on it ages ago, but she never says I told you so and that’s why I tell her these things first, and not Baba. He always asks me why I can't just decide to be happier.

I would if I could, Baba.

Earlier today, after Dr. L was done with the mer, she just... cleaned herself up and then stepped right out. Left. Said she had to make a phone call.

The mer was still on his back, weeping blood all down one side from Dr. Lachlan’s work today. It was pooled all over the floor. At least she seems to have finally decided she’s taken enough of his scales, and his tail doesn’t look like such a mottled, reddened mess any longer.

She says we’re going to give him an MRI soon, and I am not looking forward to trying to get him through any of that safely. Not that safety is something Dr. L is remotely worried about. 

Safety or, you know, basic employment protocols to keep me from losing my mind. I’m on a 24-hour shift, and I should be sleeping right now, but even though I can barely handle standing up, I’m wide, wide awake.

I think it’s making the thoughts worse. I never sleep anymore, except when Miah comes in to give me a day off now and then. She can tell, I know it, but she’s nice enough not to say anything.

I should ask her out on another date, the first one was amazing, but... I don’t know. We kissed at the end and she asked me if I wanted to go inside with her and I said no. Because...

I don't know why.

Because I'm afraid I'll, what, infect her with depression? Who knows. I don't even know. Sometimes it's just too hard to do the thing I want to do. She's made a few attempts to talk since but I just can't seem to find the right signs to connect my brain with my hands.

I should tell her about why I dropped out of grad school, shouldn’t I? I should tell someone that it's happening again. I should tell someone I'm thinking about k

I’ll think about that later. 

Anyway... Dr. L left, and the mer was just... lying there, still strapped down to the examination table, looking at me with those huge green eyes. I thought they were eerie at first, almost emotionless, but I can see all the little shifts now, as he follows my movements. I know some of his clicks, what he’s trying to ask.

I know that he asks for help over and over again, and I know that I don't provide it. I can't.

I could

I can't.

I was pushing over the tub of water we use to move him around when he clicked at me three times, head tilted back. There was dark red blood, nearly purple, staining his white hair. She did some exploratory cuts along his neck, I think prepping for a full surgical look at his vocal chords soon.

She told me why. She did. It's just... I’m just having a hard time listening now. 

I keep looking at him and thinking of how I would feel if my life had gone from family and ocean life to being strapped down and made to bleed for the education - and probably entertainment - of creatures I couldn’t even begin to know.

We talk about alien abductions, but humans are the ones who sometimes just take things and cut them apart to look inside. To Kima, I’m the alien, the evil villain, the monster under the

Bahram you are losing your grip. Stop it.

The blood he lost pooled underneath him and it stained the water as I moved him from the exam table back to his tank. It stained his hair and my hands. He smelled like copper and seawater in those moments. He smelled like bloody tears.

I almost threw up but I couldn't find the energy even for that.

Dr. L told Miah’s dad that forced-captive mer don’t usually last more than a year, especially young ones. I was thinking about that, and how does she know? There aren’t even enough official captivities to begin to have expert knowledge on that, let alone of calves.

Right?

Is there something she’s not telling me about how she knows that kind of information?

Kima clicked at me three times and I just smiled at him. He’s getting used to smiles, I think he gets that they’re not a sign of danger or being angry at this point. He tries to smile back sometimes, although that mouthful of fangs is a little unsettling, even if he means well. 

I said, “I know it hurts, but I promise I’ll put something on there for the pain in just a second.”

He made a sound very much like a chirp and settled back as best he could, but I could see how it hurt him. 

I hate this job.

I hate myself.

I rolled him back down into the tank room, past the computer and the couch and everything, but when it came time to give him an injection to sedate him I just... couldn't do it.

I had to sit down on the couch and just stare. I don't even know what I thought, or how long I did it. But eventually I heard a soft sound like rhythmic scrapes, and I looked up-

And there's Kima.

He was throwing himself against the side of his rolling travel tank to make it roll inch by inch across the floor, closing the distance between us.

When he got close, our eyes met.

I was in the water and out of it, breathing through gills and breathing air. I had rubbery thick skin and heavier weight and thin layers of delicate cells interlocking over muscle and bone. All of it at once.

In my head, I thought was told, Bahram sad.

"Yes." What else could I possibly say?

Kima watched me, solemn and still, with those enormous allover green eyes. Then he pushed upwards, hooking his arms over the side of his travel tank. Dark blood ran mixed with our imported seawater down from the cuts over his neck, staining grayish skin

Kima sad.

None of this was in words. All of it is simply... thoughts. Full thoughts, slipping back and forth like fins in water, slippery as eels. Thoughts that aren't words, but images, feelings, visions behind my eyelids.

I should tell Dr. L he talks to me this way.

I should absolutely not tell her that.

"I'm sorry," I said. My voice cracked, like being a teenager all over again. I could share with him how awful and guilty I felt. I could show that to him. "I didn't know. I didn't know you were... You could think."

"Bbhhh-rrrmmm," Kima said out loud. He tries so hard to make the sounds work. I can't possibly type them out in a way that actually reflects how he says it. "Bhhhh-rmmm. Heh-... ehp. Ulp."

Bahram help.

His brow furrows a little, head tipping to one side. White hair sticks to his cheeks and forehead, drips water down him. His nose slits flare as he breathes through lungs for the moment.

"I don't know how to help you," I said, and put my head in my hands. "I don't know what to do."

He was quiet, then. He looked confused more than disappointed.

After a while, I found the energy to put him back in his big tank and even dropped some fish in. After that, it took all I had in me to dump the bloodied travel tank water and make it back to lie down on the couch.

I've been here basically ever since.

I should read or study but I can't. I just physically can't make myself move. Kima watches me sometimes, and I watch him nurse the bruises and blisters and bloodied wounds Dr. L opened on him. The new ones starting to layer over the old.

He tries to think Bahram help but I don't answer. I don't even have the words to begin.

How do I tell him I need help, too?

If I do, I could lose this job.

Would anyone else talk to him? Miah, yeah, but she has school, she can't be here very often. Who else would take this job?

Would they be worse at it than I am?

Is that even possible?

The alarm just went off

Never mind. It was just Dr. L, she bumped one of the alarms with her hip. She's come back carrying a box. She said tomorrow we take some skin.

I didn't ask how much.

Just said okay, watched her head for the lab, and laid back down on the couch. Kima asked what skin is. I decided not to tell him.

I can't keep being the bad guy, I have to quit.

I can't quit, who would take care of him?

So instead of doing anything, I do nothing. Just like before.

I should tell someone it's happening again.

I should tell someone, anyone, that it's happening again.

Literally anyone.

I'm so tired.

Bahram help.

Okay, but could someone help Bahram, maybe, too?

-

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @thefancydoughnut @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @yet-another-heathen @fanmanga1357-blog @justabitofwhump @crystalrainwing @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @orchidscript @whump-tr0pes @hackles-up

#signs of the sea #clinical depression #depression tw #whump #captivity #reluctant whumper #caretaker whumper #guilty caretaker #found this in drafts and decided to finish it #bahram anvari #kima #mer whump #mer whumpee #nonhuman whumpee

[appalachianapologies]

Riley: You need attention

Mac: What, just because my dad didn’t love me as a child?

Riley:

Riley: I meant medical attention

#yes i think i'm funny #macgyver #macgyver 2016 #let me set the stage for you: #mission gone wrong and jack is hurt enough that they need to hightail it to the nearest clinic or hospital #do not pass go do not collect $200 do not stop to debrief #after jack is taken back and seen mac does the good ol lean against the wall and tip your head back in relief #(that's the good shit) #and riley notices some glass embedded in mac's skin #specifically mirror shards (because i said so that's why) #either in his arm or thigh but probably thigh because you know how i feel about leg whump #anyway yeah that's the scenario :) #except this is the funny line and the rest of this un-written fic is whump and also dad jack

[faofinn]

18. Nausea/Upset Stomach

Part 1 / Part 2

@sicktember

Steve was always trying to find new meds and combinations for the wolves. It was hard, their metabolisms were weird, and traditional meds weren’t always effective. They had to get creative, and that meant some… somewhat unethical and unrefined tests. 

Most of the pack were happy to volunteer, knowing it would repay them when they (inevitably) needed pain relief in the future. Fao too, was all too happy to help. He knew he was awkward when it came to painkillers, his sensitivities making him difficult at the best of times. When their supplies of his ‘safe’ meds ran low, they were somewhat screwed. 

So that was why he’d just arrived at the clinic on his day off, in a comfy t-shirt and sweats. Steve had come up with some new combination that had worked well enough for Finn, but Finn did well on morphine. Fao most certainly didn’t. The text from Steve had literally read ‘I need to find out if this is Fao proof’, and really Fao couldn’t refuse. 

He let himself in through the back door, and decided to chill on the staff room sofa whilst he waited for Steve. He’d texted to say he’d arrived, but assumed he was just finishing up with his last patient. 

Steve finished late, as the last patient often did. The cat hated him with a passion, and spent the full assessment trying to commit murder and hissing at its owner. Several scratches and completely unimpressed, he headed through to the staff room to find Fao.

“You look like you’ve been having fun.” Fao commented lightly, breathing in deeply. “Cat?” He could smell the feline on him, along with the metallic tang of blood. Steve’s blood. 

Steve shot him a dirty look. "You know fine well it was. They hate me. They absolutely hate me."

“I don’t get why. You must have pissed a cat off in a former life. Right, where do you want me?”

"I must have pissed every cat off in a previous life." He rolled his eyes. "We'll head through to the treatment room."

Fao stood, grinning. “Need a moment to stop the bleeding or are you good? If you need a trauma surgeon I know a half decent one.”

"Bugger off. Come on, might as well get started."

He laughed. “Excellent bedside manner as always.” He teased, heading through into the treatment room and hopping up on the bed. “As you asked, nothing but clear fluids since lunch.”

"Perfect. I can always count on you to do things properly."

“Well, I’m counting on you to not kill me.” Fao said, crossing his legs and getting comfy. 

"Ideally not how we want the day to go, is it?" He shook his head as he set up, turning to Fao. "Can I get a cannula in?"

He nodded. “Yeah, go for it.” He said, relaxing back against the upright bed and offering Steve his arm. 

"I'll be as quick as I can." He said gently. "The plan is to try this combination, hope it works, but at least you'll be human to tell me."

“Yeah, sounds like a plan. Just pain relief, or are you aiming for sedation too? So I know what to expect.”

"Just pain relief, but it might make you feel woozy. It didn't knock Finn out, and you know what he's like with literally anything."

Fao nodded. “Okay. Can cope with that, I hope.”

"I hope so. I've got antiemetics and other things set up, just in case."

“I trust you, and I’ll be glad if it works, my hip has been murder today and I’ve not been able to take anything.”

"You should have said. We could have rescheduled."

“No, it’s okay. Can test if it really works.”

"I suppose so."

“Might as well kill two birds with one stone.” He murmured, watching Steve. “How are you getting on with that cannula?”

"I think we're in."

“Mm, good.”

"Feel okay?"

Fao nodded. “Yeah. Feels okay, looks good. No pain when you flushed.”

"Excellent."

He hummed. “How was your day, other than being clawed alive by a cat?”

"Felt longer than it was." He admitted. "Harrison was off this morning so it was a lot slower than it usually goes."

“Hars on leave? Or just not rota-ed?”

“Called in sick this morning.”

Fao frowned. “Sick? He actually called in?”

"Actually called in.'" Steve nodded. "I'm as surprised as you are."

“Jesus. Is he alright?”

"I think so."

“Maybe I’ll swing by later, see if he’s okay. I had the day off, though, I could’ve come in if you’d needed. Too late now, obviously.”

"He should be okay, hoping it's just a bug he's picked up and nothing else. Are you ready to get started?"

So Steve had seen right through his procrastination, then. It was always a bit nervewracking, putting his trust completely in the other man. There was no question that Fao trusted him with his life, but letting him just fill him with an unknown amount of unknown drugs was somewhat terrifying. 

“Yeah, ready when you are.”

"Alright. Deep breaths." He said softly, slowly injecting the drugs. He was more than a little worried about Fao's reaction, but did his best to pretend he wasn't; the younger wolf didn't need his worry too.

Fao sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes. He forced himself to keep breathing like that for a few moments, trying to dissipate the nerves. No going back now.

"That's it, you're doing really well. That's all given now, okay? Just stay nice and relaxed for me."

He nodded. It was alright at first, though it did make him feel a little woozy. It worked quickly, of course, and Fao had to admit the hip that had been troubling him all day felt better. There was a bit of nausea, nothing he couldn’t handle, and he forced another deep breath. 

Steve rubbed his arm gently. "You feeling okay?"

“Yeah, I think. Bit woozy, little nauseous? It’s fixed my hip, though.”

"Oh? That's good. Any other symptoms?"

He thought about it for a bit. “No. Still nauseous, though. Maybe worse?”

"Do you need antiemetics?"

“See if it gets worse.”

"Are you sure?"

“Mm. Give it a minute.” He mumbled, shifting a little. 

"Alright. I'm just going to fill in some notes, okay? I'll just be at the side."

Fao nodded. He could cope with Steve writing his notes. He knew the drill, he just had to sit through it for a while, cope fine, and everything would be all fine. 

He was fine for a minute or so. But the nausea was getting really bad now, he could barely breathe without worrying if he was going to be sick, just completely overwhelming. He was dizzy too, all of a sudden. He’d not noticed it before, maybe, but he really didn’t feel well at all. He squeezed his eyes shut, making a noise. 

“Steve?” He whimpered. 

He was over in a flash, the notes abandoned. "What's wrong?"

“I feel shitty.” He mumbled. “Dizzy an’ sick.”

"Alright, okay. Just keep breathing for me. In through your nose, out through your mouth." Steve said, reaching to grab the antiemetics, the anaphylaxis protocol slipped behind Fao's head. "You're going to be okay."

Fao focused on his breathing, deep slow breaths. He swallowed thickly, still worried he was going to be sick, and focused on Steve’s voice, too. The dizziness wasn’t going away, though, and he whined again. “Steve.”

"I know, I know, I've got you. You've had the antiemetics, they'll make you feel crap for a few moments too, remember? We've done this a thousand times, you're going to be just fine."

“Yeah.” He breathed. He’d barely eaten anything to be sick, and yet he was terrified he was going to be. He was still trying to keep his breathing slow, but it was hard. 

"You're doing so, so well." Steve reassured, grabbing more medication. "Do you want a bowl?"

“Please.”

He passed it over quickly. "Here, just keep breathing."

Fao retched, but nothing came up. He shifted his weight a little, sitting forwards to retch again, trying to keep breathing. 

Steve rubbed his back soothingly, his heart falling. It had been looking so positive, but it wouldn't do at all to have Fao like this.

“Really dizzy.” Fao muttered. “Sorry.” 

"That's okay. You don't need to apologise. It's my fault for putting you through this."

“No. Is important.”

"I still hate it." Steve admitted, giving a slight dose of sedation, hoping to calm Fao down a bit more. "Just keep breathing."

He whined, retching again. He didn’t bring up much, but enough to spit into the bowl with a groan. “Can I have anymore antisickness?” He asked thickly. 

"A little more, but we're pushing it after this one."

“Ugh.” It certainly wasn’t helping the dizziness, but he was just hoping it would stop him feeling so horrendous and maybe he could sleep it off. 

Steve gave the antiemetics, waiting a moment before topping up the sedation too. It wasn't fair on Fao, but if he could get him under twilight, they'd avoid the nausea and hopefully the vomiting.

The fatigue crept up on Fao, panicking him a little. Was he going to pass out? He was getting drowsy, it was getting harder and harder to focus. He didn’t like it, didn’t like the feeling of his control slipping. He slumped back against the bed, too tired to keep himself upright. “Steve…”

"You're okay, just breathe. Just relax. Let yourself have a nap, eh?" Steve said gently, rubbing his arm. "You're doing amazing, Fao."

Fao let his eyes close, exhausted. He couldn’t fight it for much longer, whatever Steve had given him stronger than his resistance. Steve would look after him. 

Steve's heart broke as Fao gave in, but it was his best option. He made sure Fao wasn't going to fall off the bed, then turned away to grab blankets and fluids. The more he could flush out, the quicker Fao would feel better.

#sicktember 2022 #18 nausea/upset stomach #sicktember day 18 #whump prompt #whump writing #whump #faolan blackwood #what immortal au #werewolves #werewolf whump #werewolf whumpee #unethical drugs trials #look theyre werewolves they've got to come up with something #and fao's a nightmare so he has to be the guinea pig #steve looks after him #steve cunningham #vet clinic #whump in a vet clinic #sedation #nausea #vomiting #retching #sneaky sedation #steve hates cats #cats hate steve #these are universally acknowledged canon facts #werewolf #unethical science #but in a nice way

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Unintentional 28

Previous — Masterlist — Next

CW: BBU-adjacent, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization. Ongoing raid, fear of recapture, clinical/hospital setting, side-effects/consequences of medwhump (cerebrovascular). Beta-read by @alittlewhump <3 Second ask is from this list

Leo told him to stay still and pretend to sleep, no matter what. One of so few direct orders, Aiden could count them on his hand. The very same Leo had just been holding, fingers warming his, giving him one last reassuring squeeze before he’d let go. 

He couldn’t fail Leo.

Aiden pressed his hands into the bedspread to hide their shaking, to make them still. Starched-not-soft fabric in an orderly, woven grid under his fingertips. Hundreds of washes keeping it uniform for every new patient. Knuckles wrapped in the soft fabric of Leo’s sweatshirt. Left hand throbbing, forearms aching. Betadine and antiseptic sharp in his nose. The sounds in the hallway—the agents in the hallway. He knew those boots, those footfalls. He’d been here before. 

He was there. 

Beside the pool, clothes still damp from diving in, from sweating through what had to be hours of CPR. Dragged to his knees, slapped around, put in a van. The End.

He wouldn’t be able to give them his number this time, even if he wanted to. Except instead of taking a stand, he was simply too damaged. The idea of being beaten in front of Leo made his stomach twist and his throat tighten.

He couldn’t shake his head, squeeze his fist, find something, anything, to anchor him to where he was, who he was. The simplest task impossible. He used to be more than a passenger, an observer, recognizing less and less with each visit. Especially when it was like this, when he fell beneath the surface, into things that were muddy and murky and meant to stay that way.

He wanted to look, to confirm what he kept telling himself was true, but he had to keep his eyes closed. 

Leo wouldn’t leave him. Leo had promised. 

But the very foundation of the conditioning was doubt. 

With Archer it pushed him toward an impossible perfection. Empty responsiveness that only left him aching to do more, to be better. 

It nagged him constantly with Harrison but there was little to be done. Harrison took what he wanted, didn’t care what kind of vessel it came from. All of his memories returned were not enough to erase the conditioning, relieve the doubt. The ache to be deserving. 

He was certain it was worse to have both: what once was housed in the ruins of what he was now. 

Leo had no idea what he was taking on. Had no idea Aiden was falling to pieces in his own head when all he had to do was stay still and be quiet. 

He wasn’t meant to open his eyes but Harrison was peeling them open for him. Shining his penlight into one and then the other. 

“I know you’re awake.” His tone was terse. Frustrated? There was a complication? A delay? It was hard to follow, his mind slow to process. He tried to turn his head but he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t, he was strapped down like always. 

Leo had told him not to move.

Harrison snapped his fingers in front of his face. “I asked you a fucking question.” 

He blinked a fraction of a second after he thought of it. He couldn’t remember hearing a question. There weren’t any quips surfacing and he wasn’t sure he had the energy to speak anyway. 

He hadn’t felt this drugged before. 

He wasn’t. 

Leo—was Leo still there? 

“For fuck’s sake.” Harrison demanded all of his attention by undoing the straps. “You’re lucky we need to do this or you’d be kissing a taste of freedom goodbye thanks to your attitude.” 

Too slow to snipe back again. 

He cried out when his arms fell to his sides, so heavy now that he had to hold them, fingers tingling as the blood rushed down to his fingers. 

He had to stay still. 

“I don't have patience for your bullshit today. Do not test me.” 

He swallowed the next whimper, the reprimand curdling in his empty stomach. Unaware that Harrison had released all of the other restraints until he folded forward. Harrison caught him unceremoniously, wrapping his arms around him in a parody of an embrace that still made his heart race and his cheeks flush as if it were earned attention, a reward. Sometimes, he’d wriggle closer, moan in Harrison’s ear or whisper a few lurid suggestions. (Anything was better than being a lab rat.) Once even licked his neck but after that, Harrison had kept him unconscious for so long. 

As much as he had nothing to lose, would push every button he could find in a fruitless attempt to force Harrison’s hand, his nerve was riddled with holes. Whenever Harrison was gone too long, he’d wonder if he’d ever come back. Doubt warping fearful anticipation into longing. He’d miss Harrison. Miss the attention, even of his scalpel, when there was a question of it never returning. He was nothing if not what they’d conditioned him to be. 

“Alright, up you go.” Harrison’s voice still had an edge. They were in the other room across the hall but he didn’t remember getting there. Harrison pulled him to his feet, placed both of his hands on the rail bordering the room. “Let’s go, I don’t have all day.” 

He gasped when Harrison let go, overwhelmed by all of his muscles working together for a purpose. But there was something else too, something beneath whatever drugs Harrison always gave him before these bouts of “exercise” to make sure he wasn’t too much trouble. 

“I don’t feel right…” It came out slurred.

Harrison was busy on his phone and waved him on with his free hand. “You remember. One foot in front of the other.” He used the hard toe of his sneaker to prod against his bare heel until he moved. 

Left foot forward. One step at a time. 

His head hurt, ears ringing, vision wavering. Harrison would be furious if he passed out. 

Right foot forward. His leg almost buckled and he gripped the bar tighter. The room spun. 

“Something’s wrong.” The syllables were marbles in his mouth. 

Left foot forward. 

The fingers of his right hand slipped from the bar. 

He couldn’t raise them again, like his whole arm had been numbed. His heart sprinted and stuttered, drilling fear deep into his chest. “Harrison, what did you give me?” The panic in his voice was clearer than the words.  

“Whatever game you’re playing, I am really not—”

Right foot forward. The room tipped. 

Harrison caught him and let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m fucking serious. Stand up and finish the lap.” He tried to shove him onto his feet again but he couldn’t balance. 

He was crying now, tears sliding down his cheek. The ones on the other side lost in the fabric of Harrison’s lab coat. “I—I—can’t—I can’t—” No words came out at all this time, only sounds. “Harrison!” His vision spotted. Harrison lowered him to the floor, let him slump against the wall, listing sideways. 

His expression was out of focus but his voice was stern. “This is your last chance. Stop—what—what are you doing?” 

Harrison caught him again but he couldn’t feel where, only the other hand opening his left eye for the light. He didn’t feel his fingers on the right before his vision flared. 

“Fuck.” Harrison held two fingers to his neck, checking his watch. “Look at me, talk to me.”

“I—I—I’m scared,” he cried. It was nothing, it was moans and slurs. “Harrison, help me, please!”

“No, no, no.” Harrison laid him down. “Squeeze my hand.” 

His hand was empty, he couldn’t—

Harrison raised their hands into his line of sight. His right hand limp in Harrison’s grip. “Please, come on, Nothing. It’s nothing, you’re fine. You’re fine.” 

He couldn’t feel his hand. “What did you do to me?” Again nothing came out. He whimpered when Harrison rolled him onto his side. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

He must have been high out of his mind to hear those words. 

“Talk to me, stay with me.” 

How many times he’d wanted to say that himself but now he was the one leaving. 

“Beau, come on. Hold my hand.” Harrison wrapped both hands around his left one. He didn’t think he’d ever done that without gloves on. It felt so warm. “Here, see? Stay with me, Beau.” 

But Beau didn’t belong here. 

He had died when she had, when he’d failed her. 

“No, no, no.” Harrison was holding his face now. “Hey, ‘359. Come on, keep your eyes open. Trainee ‘359. That is a direct—” His voice broke. “Fuck. Please—”

‘359 was out of place too. 

Fragments and pieces, hollow on the inside, incomplete before he’d been given Beau’s purpose. 

A clean slate would always be empty, ‘359 couldn’t exist here.

“Please.” Harrison held him more carefully than he’d ever imagined him capable of. Like he was far from nothing, precious even. “Brandon. Forgive me.”

But he wasn’t Brandon. 

Or ‘359. 

Or Beau.

He only wanted to be Aiden. 

And even though he could still feel Harrison’s fingers entwined with his, he was Aiden. Aiden being careful not to make a sound as memories drowned him. Aiden not moving a muscle or opening his eyes, pulse sprinting in his chest as they waited. He couldn’t feel anything under his fingertips anymore, was growing more and more desperate to check that he was in fact lying in a bed and not waking up on the ground beside Harrison or worse already back on his table. He—

The door opening brought everything in his head screeching to a halt.

It wasn’t Harrison’s warmth still lingering on his hand. 

It was Leo’s. 

Leo who had found him, sheltered him, been so patient and kind with him. Had risked everything by bringing him here. 

He could keep still and quiet, bury his fear of what it would mean to go back, in hopes of selling this lie. To say nothing of what consequences Leo and his sister might face. He could never be the reason someone else was unmade. He owed Leo this, at the very least, as disappointing as he may have been in the rest of their short time together. 

Or did he have a different kind of obligation now? Not just to please and obey but one of higher grounds. To earn everything Leo had given him so freely. To repay selflessness with a sacrifice of his own.

One of the agents cleared their throat and Aiden knew this was it. If he went easily, quietly, they might leave Leo alone. As long as he surrendered before Leo had a chance to try and improvise. 

And he wouldn’t look at Leo at all. To make sure to implicate him as little as possible. 

There were voices in the hallway but he couldn’t catch the words over the way his heart beat so loudly in fear, thudding through his whole body. 

He promised himself he would tear the stitches in the van later. 

Being manhandled into cuffs might start the job anyway.  

He would—Aiden would do this to save Leo. 

He sat up and opened his eyes—

In time to see the backs of the agents as the nurse ushered them out, hissing something about “immunocompromised” and “goddamn idiots, don’t they teach you to read?” 

And Leo, staring at him in disbelief.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @mazeish @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess @meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump @painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings @peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump @aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @espresso-depresso-system @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @lavbug

#bbu #bbu-adjacent #box boy whump #box boy rescue #bbu whump #sympathetic whumper #carewhumper #pet whump #is it? idk #institutionalized slavery tw #hospital setting tw #CVA tw #stitches mention tw #medical whump #clinical whump #hospital whump #whump #whump writing

[hold-him-down]

MORE!! MORE!! MORE!!!

#ivan bridal carrying leo up next #clinic chapter when #idk #but the hospital weekend is also cooking #and as the resident med whump enthusiast #im excited

[lildevyl]

Tommy Innit's Secret Clinic, Chapter 11: Attempted Kidnapping

Summary: Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo go out Trick-or-Treating and enjoy getting all the candy they can get! Not realizing this night will change their lives forever.

TW: Attempted Kidnapping, Small Explosions, Mention of Attempted Vehicle Manslaughter (Scarlet tries to run over the kidnappers but the kidnappers jump outta the way).

If the Kidnapping is a big Trigger but you want to read this Chapter. The Attempted Kidnapping Starts with "Uh, you know, maybe Boo had a point? Tubbo nervously said. and Ends with Scarlet got back into the car, slammed the door closed, yanked the car into drive and stomped on the gas pedal.

Feel free to read the first half of the chapter but then skip the the section of the Attempted Kidnapping and enjoy the rest of the chapter! If I missed anything please let me know!

A/N: I'm back but I will be going on a temporary hiatus for this story. Midterm literally starts next week and I'm working on some future chapters! Inspiration came to me so, I'm writing when I can. I probably won't be updating again until possibly Summer. But I wanted to give you guys something.

Scarlet Pinkett’s House)

It was Halloween!  And everyone was getting ready for the spooks and the most important part of all Halloween.  Trick-or-Treating!  Tommy, Tubbo Ranboo were all getting ready, with their costumes, accessories and make-up.  Then grabbing their Trick-or-Treat bags and started heading to the Kitchen.  Where Michael was busy trying to eat as much candy that he got during Trunk-or-Treat earlier that day.  It was a nice event for the younger kids to Trick-or-Treat during the day at the Community Center.  Where everyone comes and decorates their cars, then gives out the candy to everyone!

Scarlet of course was busy trying to make sure Michael didn’t eat too much before dinner and was trying to get herself ready too for the Trick-or-Treaters.

“Michael, that's enough!  You’ll spoil your dinner.”  Scarlet lightly scolded taking the rest of the candy and putting the candy in the Jack O’Lantern bucket.  Then putting it on the counter.  Scarlet then turned around and beamed at the trio.

“Oh don’t you three look nice!  Tommy, you’ve really got a knack for this!  Ever think of being a designer?”

Tommy blushed at the comment.  Truth be told he had thought about it.  Maybe if being a Hero or a Vigilante didn’t work out he could be a professional designer.  Give him a sewing machine, the materials and Tommy could make almost anything!  Huh, maybe Tommy was born with two gifts then?

“The Captain!  The Warden!  The Demon!”  Michael squealed happily upon seeing them.

Tommy had dressed up as the Captain.  One of his favorite heroes.  The Captain and the Archangel were Tommy’s favorite.  However, there was no way that Tommy could have the Archangel’s Costume done on time so he went with the Captain.  Still a cool Hero.  Tommy had, small Sheep Horn on top of head attached to a headband.  White puffy Pirate Shirt, black pants, black boots with a heel, a Red Coat with white accents (he couldn’t afford the silver material for the accents), a wooden sword, and a black Masquerade Eye Mask.  Tommy didn’t look like he was plucked right off of a sixteenth century Pirate Ship, like the Captain herself.  But Tommy really did a good job in replicating it.

Tubbo was dressed as the Warden.  A brand new Superhero that debuted a few months ago.  The Warden was a Creeper Hybrid with Technology Enhancement Powers.  He could control any technology and with his natural ability to invent on the fly.  The Warden became a very well known Hero in a matter of weeks!  He helped the Heroes improve their suits and weapons and even improved the Hero Towers Security.  TO say that Tubbo became a huge fan was understatement!  Tubbo wore a black shirt, “Netherite Armor” (it was foam painted purple), black pants, combat boots, fingerless gloves and a green trench coat.

Ranboo decided to be different and go with L’Manburg’s infamous Vigilante.  The Demon.  The Demon was a Nether Being that made waves in L’Manburg.  The Demon was a Shadow Demon, able to control the Darkness and Shadows of others and also able to slip through and disappear through them.  Light and Fire are their main weakness but despite that, the Hero Committee had been trying to recruit them and their partner Diamond Warrior for a long time now.  The Demon had been stopping a lot of petty crime all around L’Manburg and had even helped the Archangel and the Captain out a few times.

Ranboo wore a black shirt with sequence, black sequin pants, black sequin jacket, black boots, and fake bat-like wings.  And Ranboo felt brave enough to let his Hybrid Features out!  Ranboo stopped hiding his horns and instead redid his hair so that his horns were showing.  His tail was out instead of being tucked in, his claws were fully on display instead of looking like sharp fingernails, Ranboo even let his fangs show.  He wore a black Masquerade Eye Mask with white mesh over the eyeholes.  

Tommy couldn’t have been more proud of Ranboo even if he tried!  This was a huge step for Ranboo.  Hopefully, with the Demon being around it might encourage Ranboo to show who he is more instead of trying to hide it.

After several pictures and too much gushing, and making sure they all had their flashlights and glow-in-the-dark bracelets so that the cars would see them.  The trio headed out to start their Trick-or-Treating.  They were going to get so much candy this year and set a brand new Neighborhood Record for Most Candy Trick-or-Treated.   First stop was Mrs. Smith house for the tootsie rolls!  Then the haunted house on the corner for waxed lips.  And then the next house and the next house, and the next house  .   .   .

A couple of hours and several houses later, Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo, stood at the corner of Center Street and Oak Street.  Revisiting their calculations to see how many more houses they have to hit to beat the record.  They only have a few more blocks then they have made a new record for the Most Candy Trick-or-Treated!   Ranboo looked over the map of the neighborhood and frowned at the one place they would have to hit.

“Um, guys do we really want to go there?”  Ranboo asked, pointing to the block.  “You know that there have been some disappearances in the past few months?”

“Don’t worry Boo!”  Tubbo said.  “They caught the person who was doing that.  The Ringleader is in prison now!  The Warden made sure of that!”

“Yeah, Boo!”  Tommy agreed.  “Now, come on guys!  We got a record to beat!”

(Spooky Neighborhood)

“Uh, you know, maybe Boo had a point?”  Tubbo nervously said.

They were walking the street of the last block they needed to hit for the record but something really didn’t sit right.  Some of these town houses looked abandoned.  Tubbo double checked the map and it matched up with everything.  It didn’t make any sense!

Three guys came from the side of the building they were passing.  Grabbing Tommy, Ranboo and Tubbo and trying to drag them to an awaiting white van.  Tommy was kicking and screaming until his attacker let go.  Then Tommy, body slammed into the guy that had Tubbo.  Tommy punched the guy for good measure then the two of them went to get Ranboo.  All three of them were dashing to the alleyway next to the apartment building at full speed.

But the men were faster and managed to catch up.

“Let us go!”  Tommy shouted, banging his fist on the guy’s arm.

“Chill kid!  You know you’re quite a spitfire.  No wonder Midas wants you as his son.”  One of the kidnappers said.

Tubbo’s heart sank.  Midas?!  The “Golden King” Midas?  The number five Supervillain?  The one with the power to turn anything gold with his touch?  The one who was so dangerous because he turned that one Hero into an actual golden statue?  That Midas?!

“Yep, that’s him!  Don’t worry, he doesn’t hurt kids.  He kinda has a soft spot for them.”

Tubbo didn’t realize that he said that out loud but that just made everything worse!  If Midas somehow found out about Tommy?  Wait, oh Primes!  Did that one guy that Tommy saved worked for Midas?  Was that how he found out about Tommy?

Pure rage boiled in Tubbo at that thought.  The burning was in his core reagan then it went to his chest then it was burning his arms and then his hands.  Tubbo looked down at his hands when heard a gasp from his capturer.  Tubbo’s hands were glowing a bright yellow-orange and it was really hot and felt like it was burning.  Tubbo quickly tossed the glowing yellow-orange light orb at the dumpster and watched as it blew up and was set on fire!  It was enough of a distraction for Tubbo, Ranboo and Tommy to get the hell out of dodge!

Unfortunately, the men caught up to them and were dragging them to the van.  

“You know I’m pretty sure after that little stunt that Midas wouldn’t mind your friends being his as well.  Then again he does have a few friends who are looking to adopt.”

They were crossing the street when the sound of screeching tires, blaring car horns and blinding lights came barreling down the street.  Tommy never thought he would be so happy to see Scarlet's ‘97 Buick aka the “Tank” until now.  Scarlet came barreling down the street at top speed aiming to hit the kidnappers with her car.  The kidnappers quickly jumped outta the way so as to not get hit.  Scarlet went to the end of the street, with tires squealing and nearly toppling the car over as she turned the car around.  Scarlet came back up the street and made sure that doors where the trio were.

“Get in!”  Scarlet yelled.  Getting out of the car with a tire iron in hand.  A couple of the guys tried to grab Tommy and Tubbo but Scarlet made sure that they were flat on their backs and seeing stars.

Scarlet got back into the car, slammed the door closed, yanked the car into drive and stomped on the gas pedal.  Burning rubber, Scarlet got the hell outta there.  Tubbo rolled down the window, leaned out and with one final explosive  He lit the kidnappers' engine on fire!

Scarlet made sure to take several back roads, and double backed a few times just to make sure that she wasn’t being followed.  Then she headed straight to her brother's house.  If anyone could help it was Alex.

(Alex’s House)

Scarlet was bound furious!  The Police did absolutely nothing!  They filed it as a prank!  A Prank?!   They thought that someone had set off a firecracker in the dumpster and that’s what caused the dumpster to explode.  There were no traces of the white van and of course the neighbors saw nothing and heard nothing.

The boys were all piled together in one bed in the guest bedroom.  Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and Michael.  When Ranboo called her, Scarlet immediately knew something was wrong.  She just didn’t think that kidnapping was possible.  Not for someone so young.  The Underground Fighting Ring has been around for years but they usually didn’t take anyone that wasn’t over eighteen!  Scarlet grabbed Michael and put him in the car with her and then she broke about every single traffic law imaginable.

It was a good thing that she got there when she did.  When she saw them trying to take her Runts!  Scarlet saw red.  She didn’t care if she committed Vehicle Manslaughter or not.  No one was kidnapping her Runts and getting away with it!

But now the question was, where to go from here?

“Scarlet, I hate to say it but if Midas did find out about Tommy.  Then he’s going to have to prepare for the worst,” Alex said.  His monotone voice caring throughout the Kitchen.

“I know Alex, I know.”  Scarlet said, sinking into the chair.  Both of them sat in the Kitchen around the Kitchen table with mugs of coffee in hand.  There was no way that Scarlet was going to be able to sleep tonight.  “What do you suggest?”

(The Next Morning)

The next morning all four boys pile into the Kitchen very groggy and grumpy.  Neither one of them got that much sleep.  Well, except for Michael.  He enjoyed the sleepover cuddle pile.  When they walked into the Kitchen they were greeted with a round of pancakes and waffles.  Breakfast was eaten in silence and when everyone finished, Scarlet asked Alex to take Michael into a different room.

“Alright, I think it’s time that we address the elephant in the room,” Scarlet started.  “I’m not mad and I’m very proud of how you boys handled that situation.  But Tommy after a lot of back and forth with my brother on what to do and where to go from here.  I think that he’s right about this.”

Tommy waited with bated breath.  Was this it?  Was this the part where Scarlet says that she can’t have Tommy around?  Was this when Scarlet tells Tommy that he would be moved to a different Foster Home?

“Tommy, you have healing powers and unfortunately you had to find out the hard way that your powers are not only rare, but very valuable.  You need to learn not only the dangers of your powers but also you need to learn how to harness your powers,”  Scarlet explained.

“I have a friend in Hermitcraft City, who like you, Tommy.  Has Healing Powers and is a Healer.  What I’m trying to say is, Tommy, how would you like to become a Healer?”

****

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1: Head Wound Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 2: Nuke and Ender Tumblr Here A03 Here

Chapter 3: Some New Faces Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 4: Some New Places Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 5: Unexpected Visitors Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 6: Getting Help Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 7: Group Home Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 8: Michael's Birthday Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 9: Tommy's Healing Power Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 10: On Patrol Tumblr Here AO3 Here

*****

Tagging: @weirdmixofweirdness, @nightfuryobsessed, @isa-ghost, @septic-dr-schneep, @tracobuttons, @a-humble-narcissus, @ghostsknewmynights, @luna-moonblood, @ashedflower

#tommy innit's secret clinic #mcyt #dsmp #dsmp superhero au #healer tommy #vigilante tubbo #vigilant ranboo #villain schlatt #tw attempted kidnapping #dsmp fanfic #tommyinnit #ranboo #tubbo #the bench trio #angst #whump #dsmp au

[set-phasers-to-whump]

just watched the entirety of karppi s3 in one day…

#yeab. #and now it’s over completely which is crushing #but. so many thoughts. #chief among them wtf happened to nurmi’s parents?? he told the guy at the clinic one thing and sofia another #and like. at the clinic place he was drugged and gave super specific details so points towards that #but why would he lie to karppi?? idk. many thoughts. #and also!! did not like that they gave him this swanky new porsche #with all the subtle product placement of white collar but none of the charm #also not sure that the facial hair was the right look for him. just sayin. some ppl look better w scruff and some don’t #nurmi (and myself) I believe belong to the group that does not look better scruffy #but fr though this season was so good and I loved how much stuff it managed to tie up #wish there would’ve been more whump though. lots of potential but not a lot of actual Pain. #anyway I loved that jp got a more central role im kind of obsessed with him (and his new tattoo lol) #and that reveal at the end dear lord…I was like ‘no the fuck way’ and then. it was. #batshit I tell you!! #also also. hottest character of the season award goes to henna she looked so good!! #was crazy to see how much older she’d gotten. emil as well I was like oh my god he’s twelve. what the hell. #something I did especially like was the amount of hugs karppi and nurmi got to have. wish they would have hugged more but quite pleased #with what there was. #but. i would have loved to see nurmi in extreme emotional distress or something. like come on we all know he’s going thru it but like. #show me please!!! #and omg I think I will be writing a fic vis a vis him getting shot by karppi bc. the pain of those close range chest shots. #and of being shot by your partner. yeah. #ok ok I’m gonna shut up. #yeah. have had such a productive day today #i say things #not whump #karppi spoilers #deadwind spoilers

[whump-captain]

- Day 21 -

Prompt: “Please”

---

@crash-bump-bring-the-whump​ i believe u said u wanted to see Ethan begging? here he is begging (◡‿◡)

this is probably longer than it needs to be but i had lots of fun writing the dialogue for once lol

---

CN: restraints, broken bone (pre-established), interrogation, strangling, torture, cutting, scalpels, hair grabbing, tape gag, bag over head

---

Ethan gasped when the bag was ripped off of his head. The light, though dim, was enough to make him wince after what felt like hours in the dark. He blinked quickly, trying to force the world back into focus.

The first thing he felt clearly was a grip of rope around his arms. His stomach sank. He lurched forward and the chair scraped on the bare floor. Pain shot through his arm, dispelling the haze completely. On instinct, he raised his right hand to shield himself and froze in surprise when he succeeded.

He was only tied to the back of the chair, not the armrests. The rope went around one of his biceps, then behind his back, and then around the other. It wrenched his shoulders back uncomfortably but still, a wave of nauseating relief washed over him. They didn’t tie down his broken arm.

A shadow fell on him and drew his gaze up. Ethan shuddered when Linde gave him a tight-lipped, professional smile.

“Good morning, Ethan,” Linde said. His voice was smooth and amiable but in his eyes was a glint of something cold and dangerous, like frostbite creeping through dying tissue. Circling the chair, he nodded his head towards Ethan’s arm. “I’ve done you a favour, as you can see. I’m hoping we can have a constructive conversation.”

Anger lit up in Ethan’s chest and made his face flush. How dare this man say that to him? After barely letting him speak the last time, after causing him so much pain?

“Me, too,” he hissed.

“Constructive and honest,” Linde added. “Lying only wastes both of our time.”

“Yeah.” Ethan’s voice shook like the rest of him. But behind the cracked lenses of his glasses, his gaze was hard. “But you’re the one who’s lying.”

Linde stopped his pacing. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t really believe I’m a spy. If you did, you’d turn me over to someone, or you’d- you’d kill me.” Ethan barely managed to get those words out. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Linde regarded him, his face unreadable. Ethan fought to keep his breathing even, hating how clear it was that he was afraid. He set his jaw tight and met the other man’s eye defiantly.

Finally, Linde turned. He tapped his fingers together behind his back, falling back into his slow prowl. 

“You’re perceptive,” he said. His small smile almost looked satisfied. “No, I don’t believe you’re a threat. If I did, you’re right, I would eliminate you.” He took a step forward and Ethan flinched. “But I see through you. You think that you’re above the consequences of what you do. You’re arrogant.”

“What?”

“You really thought you could infiltrate one of the most secure places in North America. You thought you could just… Walk in. And lie your way out of it.” Linde sounded almost offended. He lifted his chin slightly. “It’s about the principle of things. If I allowed something this brazen to go unaddressed, what kind of officer would that make me? Hm? If I didn’t find out the truth before turning you in?”

He leaned in close and all air seemed to leave the room. His shadow on Ethan’s face blacked out reality and pulled Ethan back through time, into the memory of agony.

“You’re wrong,” he managed through gritted teeth. “I didn’t infiltrate anything, you brought me here!” His voice rose and then cracked as his throat constricted. “You’re the one who’s arrogant because you refuse to listen to anything I say! I told you the truth, you’re just too stubborn to realise it.”

“Brazen,” Linde repeated. He seemed to savour the word. “I told you, I can see right through you. No matter how well you lie.”

He drifted to the other side of the room, where shadows outlined the shape of a table. Even though the distance between them grew, Ethan’s heart beat even faster now.

“Why do you need me to say anything, then?” he asked. He dug his fingers into the armrest to hide their trembling. “You made up your mind, you’re happy with your story, just turn me in, then. Let me talk to someone above you.”

“Like I said.” Linde ran his hand along the table’s surface and something clinked. “Principle. I don’t just want the truth. I want it from you.” 

The sudden force of his stare made Ethan recoil. Something cold crystallised in the air between them. He recognized the cold in Linde’s eyes and it made a hollow pit open in his stomach.

“Let’s start simple,” the captain said, taking a leisurely step forward. His hands were behind his back again. “How did you get to this island, Ethan?”

“On a boat.” Even the short sentence made Ethan’s breath come heavy. “It’s on the eastern shore, you can check.”

“Good. Now, how did you know where to find this island?”

“I- I followed a radar.” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his breathing even. “There was an anomaly registered by a weather station on the mainland and- I followed that. It didn’t lead to the island but the- the area around it. I- I didn’t know it was here. I almost crashed.”

Linde lowered his head and gave a quiet sigh. ”Weather station,” he repeated, almost amused.

“Yes! You can call them, they’ll tell you what time I left, which boat I took out, it’s all on the record.”

“You’re very thorough.”

“And you’re not!” The chair scraped forward with the force of Ethan’s shout. “Because you refuse to do the bare minimum to verify your claims and find-”

Linde seized his throat. The impact strangled Ethan’s words and pushed his head backwards.

“I was honest with you,” Linde said quietly. “Civil. And in return, you don’t just lie to me, you start insulting me.” His grip tightened. “I thought you were a smart man, Ethan, don’t make me change my mind.” 

Ethan couldn’t struggle. The rope held him fast, Linde’s fingers dug into his skin. With every torturous second, his lungs compressed, fighting, until it felt like they were on fire. His mouth moved soundlessly around smothered cries. Burning white danced in his vision, blurring everything into a cacophony of melting colours. A horrible buzz filled his ears - his own rushing blood. He barely heard Linde’s words:

“Let’s move on.”

Ethan strained pointlessly, he couldn’t reach the hand choking him. His fingers clawed at the air. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t run, he couldn’t breathe. 

Linde spoke loud and his voice ripped through the static in Ethan’s head: “You think I’m wasting time, let’s cut straight to the chase. Who sent you here? And choose your answer very carefully because, believe me.” He leaned in closer and squeezed Ethan’s throat, fingers like iron bars. “My patience is running thin.”

Then he released him. Ethan choked on a gasp and immediately convulsed in a coughing fit. Air forced itself back into his body and every breath made his chest feel like it would burst. He couldn’t stop his voice escaping, he wheezed and groaned with every involuntary, fitful exhale. Linde stood motionless, watching him. Waiting. 

“I wasn’t- sent here,” Ethan choked out finally. His throat burned, the pain of the forming bruises enclosed his windpipe and made every word hurt. “I’m not here for- whatever this place is. It’s the truth.” It wasn’t a shout anymore, but a plea. He fought for breath, fought to stay afloat in his own battered body. 

Footsteps made him look up. Linde’s silhouette doubled and swayed before him, turning back towards the table. When he came into focus, he was holding a scalpel.

 “Wait.” Ethan’s voice cracked. “You- you don’t have to-” he stammered. “Please, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Linde grabbed a fistful of his hair and wrenched his head sideways. “I thought it was simple.” He brought the scalpel close to Ethan’s neck. “I want you to tell me who sent you.”

“I was- I’m- I-” The metal reflected in Ethan’s wide eyes. He was shaking so much his glasses slipped down his nose. “The- Th- The CIA! Fine? The CIA sent me, you don’t have to- Please, don’t do this, I’m-”

“Now you’re just making things up,” Linde said.

He sliced down, across Ethan’s clavicle. The blade parted fabric, skin, and muscle like paper. Ethan screamed, his body twisting with tension. Linde pulled his head back by the hair and cut open his shirt, exposing the deep wound. 

“That’s the first,” he said. He sank the scalpel into Ethan’s shoulder and dragged it slowly down. Metal scraped against bone. Pain burned through Ethan’s mind, forced a ragged, stuttering howl out of him. His breathless groans almost drowned out Linde’s ice cold voice when he finished:

“And that’s the second lie you’ve told me.” He tilted the scalpel and more blood poured out of the widened cut. “Are you still with me?” He brought his face close to Ethan’s. “Is this a waste of time?”

“Stop,” Ethan gasped. “Please. This is all- a mistake.” His breath hitched, words fragmented into high-pitched, desperate noises of pain. Linde’s eyes shone like a snowstorm.

“I’m losing my patience.”

The next cut was diagonal, crossing over the already damaged skin. Ethan’s scream rose and then faltered, he convulsed in the restraints. The blade tilted again and ran slowly just under the skin, slicing it away from muscle - one side, then the next. Lines of living fire spilled through Ethan’s body, one after the other, emerging with each new stream of thick blood pouring out. He could only sob now, his throat raw and lungs empty. He had no time to breathe between the cuts.

“Tell me.” Linde’s voice was no more than a hiss. “Anything.”

Ethan could barely see. The pain blurred everything into a red haze.

“Please,” he whispered.

The grip on his hair tightened. The added tension made him groan as the scored skin shifted. Then it disappeared and his head lolled forward. The room spun. Footsteps mixed with the pounding of Ethan’s heart in his ears.

Something made a loud scraping noise and then Linde said: “I’ll let you think about it.”

He pressed a strip of tape over Ethan’s mouth. Ethan wheezed desperately, his breath hitching against the barrier. Another cry died in his throat and only made it out as a muffled whimper. 

Then Linde put the bag over his head again. He said: “This can come off when you’re ready for a constructive conversation.”

When the next incision came, Ethan couldn’t even brace for it.

#wij23day21 #whumpmasinjuly2023 #whump #whump writing #whump ocs #oc whump #torture whump #interrogation whump #captain's stuff #captain's ocs #kintsugi #im a strange kind of pleased with this one lol #the prose is kinda w/e i think bc i rushed it a bit and was kind of just letting myself get into a flow #but i like the concept and the scene and for once the dialogue lol #ethan my love how the hell else did you expect this to go you are insulting the guy who tortured you to his face #clinically unable to shut his mouth for 5 seconds so sad #it's weird writing this version of kintsugi bc i developed it mostly in a completely different direction for the feature length story #and like i have a much better grasp of Ethan as a character now #but also Linde has been like Completely reworked and his motivation is entirely different #but i did that bc his role in the feature story is different #whereas here he's still mostly The Whumper™ #and he's not meant to set up nearly as many future plot points and such #anyway #have some Ethan torture i should write it more often lol

[ziptiesnfries]

debating whether i should risk googling how long it takes for a wound to get infected, lest it gives me way more nausea-inducing detail than i wanted, or just wing it bc come to think of it, i’m not even sure whether the injury i’m writing is “realistic,” and i don’t really care because it’s fun whump

(if anyone was curious, i’m writing a character who gets an electrical burn from a malfunctioning shock collar. idk if shock collars can malfunction that way in the first place, but like i said, good whump.)

#my love of whump vs my medical anxiety: fight! #i can write about it but as soon as i see it talked about in like a Clinical Way i get light headed lol #ziptalks