#kinda medical whump

[whumpy-bi]

Whumpee watches through blurred, rapidly darkening vision as a new person pushes Whumper out of the way.

Even from their position on the floor, Whumpee can identify the newcomer is wearing the same uniform colors as their torturer. Different clothes, but…the same colors, Whumpee was sure of it. They moaned quietly—were they changing shifts?

The voices were distant. They bounced around Whumpee’s head like an echo along cave walls.

“Whumper. What have you done?”

“I…was questioning the detainee, Commander.”

“Questioning?” The newcomer’s voice rose a little. Whumpee half registered them looking down at them. “They’re half dead!”

“Well, they wouldn’t answer my question—“

“They can’t answer any questions, not like that.” They dropped to one knee, ignoring Whumpee’s mumbles of protest as they shined a flashlight across both of their eyes.

“You’re lucky you didn’t kill them, Whumper.”

“What does it matter? They’ll probably be executed, anyway—“

“This prisoner is under my authority, do you understand? It will cost all of us if they die, but especially me. Which means you will be the one paying for it. You won’t be questioning them again.”

A long, uncomfortable silence enveloped the cell as the commander pulled Whumpee up to sit against the wall. Whumpee was silent and pliant, their entire body still aching from earlier.

“What did you do to them?”

“Standard procedures…blunt force, electric shocks—“

“Back to back, clearly. And why is there blood on the wall?”

“I…may have thrown them against it.”

“Whumper, you’re dismissed.”

Whumper left without another word, feeling a burning sensation from their commander’s harsh tone.

Whumpee closed their eyes, finally losing themselves to exhaustion as Commander sighed and spoke into their radio.

“Prisoner was injured during questioning. May be a concussion—“ They tapped Whumpee’s jaw. “Hey, stay awake. Stay awake.”

“May be a concussion, prep a medical bed. I’m taking them in myself, Whumper is no longer authorized to deal with this one.”

The words were starting to blur and mush together, Whumpee couldn’t make sense of them anymore. They weakly attempted to squirm, shifting away from the high ranking official looming over them.

“Stop moving.” Their voice wasn’t exactly gentle, but it wasn’t quite harsh either. Whumpee found themselves obeying, despite their fear and the increasing haze in their mind.

“I’m not hurting you. Do you understand me?”

Whumpee managed a weak nod.

“Good. You will be questioned again, but not now. Now, you’re receiving medical attention. I’m telling you not to fight us, it will not help you whatsoever. Do you understand?”

Another smaller nod.

“Good. Let’s go, before you actually pass out on me.”

#idk what this is #whump #whumpee #whump writing #writing #whump thoughts #whumper #torture #captured #interrogation #military whump #medical whump #kinda

[cpt-winters]

me and my friend are going absolutely feral for the team leader battle aftermath story. it’s so, so, sooooo beautifully written. the emotions and imagery are outstanding. I am completely immersed! we’re both dying for more. and tysm for writing and posting <3

Aw, thanks sm <3 This is the last one lol hope you and your friend enjoy!

Collapse Aftermath - Leader Whump

He tried to stay upright. He really did, but the second Leader's knees buckled any effort to grip onto composure was lost.

"Whoa, hey-"

A quiet groan was the most objection Leader managed at the arms locking around him, flaring the wound in his side.

Colourful exclamations of panic from his teammate morphed into something distant as he slumped against the other, short breaths the only thing to be heard above the heavy heartbeat- not his own, thudding against his ear.

Heavy limbs of no use to him, Leader could only shudder as Teammate lowered him to the floor, the painstaking care doing nothing for the torn skin that screamed in protest until the ceiling above finally flooded his vision.

"...ear me?"

His eyelids drooped beneath the harsh fluorescent tubes glaring down, a distinct chill settling around him as his head lulled to the side.

"Shit, shit! Hey- Can you hear me?"

Leader mustered some vague groan, frantic tapping against his cheek tugging back on his thread of consciousness. He failed to bite back his half-strangled cry, no warning coming before the firm pressure pushed into his side.

"Fuck! Why didn't you say something?" Teammate's wide eyes flickered from their captain's wound to his paling face.

".. 'thought I had it h.. handled," he gritted out, biting back another wince.

"This- this is not handled boss!"

Dark spots blotted the face looming above him in and out of focus, nothing but Leader's choked breaths occupying the space between the pair. "Yeah.." he whispered, eyes threatening to fall closed.

"No, no. Come on Leader, eyes on me," Teammate encouraged, shaky voice accompanied by incessant tapping resuming on the side of Leader's face.

Sluggishly swiping at it only yielded his own hand caught in Teammate's, guided down toward his side.

"Just keep that there, okay?" They carefully laid his palm across the soaked material, drawing a shaky breath. "I'll get help just- just stay there."

Leader's glazed eyes followed Teammate as they scrambled to their feet.

"I'll be right back. Right back," they promised, giving their captain's limp form a final glance before sprinting out the door, rushed footsteps fading down the hallway.

3/3 (Part One, Part Two)

#whump #what's medical accuracy? #team leader whump #leader whump #collapse whump #team dynamics #team whump #stoic whumpee #military whump #hidden injury #fainting whump #kinda #injury whump

[whumpasaurus101]

Sidekick Whumpee x Hero Whumper pt 10

okay lets ignore the fact that i havent updated this story for...LIKE A YEAR??? oh my days- ANYWHO GYUHJHKDJHD I'm back with my mojo LETS DO THIS WOOO

Cw: Blaming self / Guilt / past character death reference / its more ouchy hurt than pain HUIJDGHKDHJ

Previous / Masterlist

---

Once Medic had convinced Villain to lie down for a few minutes, they made their way back into the room before freezing. Sidekick was curled into a ball, hugging their knees close to their chest as they rocked back and forward. Medic cursed under their breath, rushing to kneel by Sidekick’s side, “Heyhey Sidekick, look at me.” 

Sidekick sobbed out, shaking their head quickly, “‘s a-all my fault! Why the hell did you come after me!?!?!!?” They roared, “I was fine, I was able to put up with the pain-” They couldn't help the sobs that ripped from their throat, “And now someone died because of me!!!”

Medic looked at them, their eyebrows furrowed as they let out a sigh, “Oh Sidekick…” They gently pulled Sidekick close to them, “It's alright kid, I’ve got you, alright? Nothing is going to happen to you or us.” 

Sidekick sobbed, their fingers tangled in Medic’s shirt- their knuckles white. 

Medic softly shushed them, their hand running through the other’s hair, “Let’s get you to bed, just so your stitches don't get ruined or anything from being down here, okay? I’ll make us some food soon.” They gently brushed back a curl that was covering Sidekick’s eye, “You look exhausted.”

Sidekick gulped and nodded, sniffling as they wiped their face with their arm. 

Medic brought Sidekick to the guest room, they gave them a soft oversized hoodie -which Sidekick was very grateful for- before Sidekick relaxed into the bed. Just as Medic went to leave, they felt a gentle tug at their wrist. When they turned around, they saw Sidekick, looking up through their long eyelashes;

“Can.. can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Medic’s face softened and they nodded, “Of course, hun. They gently sat over the duvet, right beside Sidekick who’s eyes fluttered closed. Medic’s fingers carded through Sidekick’s hair, gently scratching their scalp. They felt the other relax under their touch, a smile on their face before they took out their phone. They texted Teammate, telling them the situation and asking for them to sort out the body. 

Once the message was sent, they let out a shaky breath before searching up to see if there were any nice hotels nearby.

Villain lay on their bed, heart aching. Their eyes were more or less glazed over, staring at the ceiling. They closed their eyes shut tight before opening them again. This is not what Henchman would like, Henchman told them to take care of Sidekick and that's what they had to do.

Just as they sat up, Meic entered the room; they both chuckled. “Hey,” Medic smiled. 

Villain shakily smiled back, “Hey.”

“So uhm, I figured it might be a nice change of scenery if we stayed a night or two at a hotel. Just the three of us.”

Villain’s eyes widened, “I-you- I mean, s-sure! But only if you let me pay.”

“Oh you're hilarious, cmonnnnn, let me treat you!!!” 

Villain chuckled, “Damn you, you know I can’t resist your puppy dog eyes.”

Medic giggled, smiling proudly, “Cmon, pack your stuff!!! I’ll get mine and Sidekick’s things in a bag.”

Villain nodded and Medic turned to leave.

“H-hey, Medic?”

Medic hummed, turning around to meet eyes with Villain who smiled, chewing on the inside of their own cheek before speaking, “Thank you, for…for everything.”

Medic smiled, walking over and hugging the villain, “Of course, it's the least I could do.” 

Villain shook their head, “It- it's not…it’s… well, it's more than anyone except for Henchman has done for me.”

Medic smiled a teary smile, cupping Villain’s cheek and pressing a gentle kiss to their forehead, “You deserve to be looked after, Villain. You get no credit for looking after this city, someone needs to look after you…”

---

taglist: @digitalart-dwa @screechingqueenmentality @happy-whumper @mercurymom @wingedwhump @wolfeyedwitch @therealcough @epiclamer @guachipongo @ghostfacepepper @break-so-beautifully @whumblrwork @echo-tries-writing @vuvulia @pizzasthengym @patheticlittleguy @random-sneke @myhusbandsasemni @yells-in-lowercase @extrabitterbrain @thearoaceghost @tolazyfornameme @itsmyworld23 @addendumbeekeeper @whatwhumpcomments

(if you wanna be added or removed just let me know!!! <3)

#MKAY SORRY ITS KINDA SHORT #NEXT ONE WILLL BE FUN #AND ANGSTY #EHHEHEHHE #whump #whump drabble #whumpee #whump writing #whumper #whump community #whumpblr #sidekick whumpee #medic caretaker #villain caretaker #hero whumper #whump series #hero x villain #hxv #lee wrote something :o

[whumpacabra]

New Tricks

Angst, crying, exhaustion, fever, touch starvation, scars, local anesthetic, stitches, painful wound treatment, pain medication, needle mention, fear of electrocution, anticipated violence, referenced character death, past torture, implied past noncon

[Directly follows Bad Dog]

The Wolf waited. He drank every second of gentle touch he could get and he waited for the price to be exacted on his already rent flesh.

It never came.

He cried himself to exhaustion, nauseous with the knowledge he was too tired, that it would kill him to take any more punishment. (He didn’t want to die.) But the hands that pulled his tear stained face from the agent’s tear soaked shirt were gentle, holding his jaw like it was a fragile thing. And the eyes looking down at him - alien with their pity - had no sharp edges trying to cut into his own pain glazed eyes.

“I - I have a medkit. Would you - do you need help, stitching up your back?”

The Wolf stared up at him, too tired to process the words beyond ‘help.’ He didn’t get help - he got treatment. He recovered enough to be broken again. But there was a finality to the way this man said that word, like it meant something more than a temporary state of being.

“Okay. I’m - I’m just going to get my medkit, alright? Alright.” Jackson was talking more to himself, and the Wolf was fine with that. The words were starting to blur together, the sound of a particular voice that didn’t come with hurt or insults or harsh hands. Jackson’s gentle hands propped the Wolf against the edge of the tub, an arm draped over the side and his head resting against the cool false porcelain plastic. He was so fucking cold. He just wanted to curl up somewhere warm and sleep.

(He wanted to crack open Jackson’s rib cage and slot himself between his lungs.)

He was shivering intermittently when Jackson returned (had he been gone long?) but the Wolf was just happy to have that warm presence hovering near him again. The agent sat beside him, the space between the sink and tub a cramped and uncomfortable place to fit two grown men, but the Wolf didn’t mind.

(How odd, that just hours before he would dread having another warm blooded body close to his, and now - now, with this one, he wanted to cling to that warmth like a leech.)

The click and snap of a syringe being prepped had the Wolf open his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at Jackson, who offered a nervous smile.

“It’s a local anesthetic - is that alright?” The Wolf blinked at him, and then looked away. He didn’t know how to answer questions about his comfort, his wants. (He just wanted to sleep.) The kiss of the needle was expected, but the bloom of cool numbness it bestowed where it pricked his back was a welcome surprise.

“I’m - I need to clean these. Even with the anesthetic it might hurt.” The Wolf could feel those alien eyes watching the back of his head, so he nodded. “Sorry.” Jackson had nothing to apologize for.

The sting of antiseptic was absent, but the pressure and prickle of exposed flesh being prodded and debris teased away was a familiar sensation. His handler had cut into him on the first night, reckless with rage. The Wolf tried not to dwell on the memory, but a tremor shivered up his spine as Jackson worked, gentle hands pausing.

“Are you alright?” Another nod. Another soft ‘sorry’ that felt unwarranted. It was the Wolf’s fault for being weak. He tried to focus on the steady rhythm of Jackson’s stitches, oddly difficult to anticipate with his pain numbed flesh.

Three days of those deep cuts left exposed, open to the air and sweat and worse. They would scar, badly, like the cuts that ran from his right hip to his spine, skin ridged and thick with scar tissue. His handler wanted them to scar badly. He wanted the Wolf to remember - to remember that he -

A sob caught in his throat, the shock collar still heavy around his neck. It wasn’t set to voice activation - he didn’t think it was - but it had shocked him earlier. Had his handler done that? Had his handler survived and was watching and would kill Jackson or have him kill Jackson and - ?

“Easy love, I’m almost done. You’re doing so well.” A voice so soft and so different from the barking orders and snarled insults he was acclimated to. The Wolf blinked away fresh tears, struggling to find his voice, a hoarse whisper rising from his ragged throat.

“Is he dead?” Three little words; a question he couldn’t stand to know the answer to. A question he needed to know the answer to if he ever wanted to sleep again. Jackson’s hands, cold - so cold against the Wolf’s burning, numbed skin - stilled, a steady palm pressed to a small expanse of uncut flesh. But not too hard, mindful of his bruises.

“Yes. Agent Smith is gone. He’s dead.” The Wolf could hear a question in those words, but he was too relieved to consider it. Jackson - anyone - could kill him, let him die badly, alone, and bloody, and he would die happy. He outlived his handler. A victory he didn’t know he needed.

Jackson resumed his steady handed stitches, and the Wolf let his head drop, thoughts running watery and disconnected. The hum of the light above. The creak of the window pane holding back the wind. The footsteps in the room above - light, belonging to a child, a bed creaking and muffled voices soft with sleepy affection.

“You’re warm.” He sure as hell didn’t feel warm. The Wolf looked over his shoulder at Jackson, instinctively flinching as a hand came toward his face, but he relaxed into the icy touch pressed to his forehead. He almost missed it when it left. “Here, are you allergic to Advil?”

The Wolf looked down at the red pill and the almost comically small paper cup with a swallow’s worth of water. His stomach ached, hunger and nausea fighting for recognition even as he downed the medication and splash of liquid. He had taken harsher drugs with less in his stomach. (Not that what was roiling in his gut was pleasant or nutritious.)

With a shudder he rested against the tub once again, Jackson’s hands and sterilizing wipes traveling away from the oldest, deepest cuts. The antiseptic stung, a familiar pain that burned like acid over his wounds. But Jackson didn’t linger, didn’t press the antiseptic deeper into his flesh. He stitched the deepest wounds, bandaged the rest, and worried over surface level burns as though the Wolf could still feel them after the years of his handler’s habit leaving its mark.

By the time Jackson was putting away his medkit, the first grey glow of dawn was seeping through the rain dappled window. The Wolf hadn’t moved in hours, sitting still and as comfortable as he could be while Jackson worked. He was so tired. And when he limped out of the bathroom after Jackson, there was a wonderful nest of blankets and pillows waiting on the soft carpeted floor.

“You take the bed, I don’t mind sleeping on the floor - besides, your back could…” Jackson trailed off as the Wolf wandered to the crude bed on the floor, dropping harshly to his knees and collapsing into the softness.

In his daze of exhaustion, he barely registered the anxious horror of knowing Jackson wanted him on the bed. That was a problem for a well rested Wolf. That was something he could handle tomorrow, that he could survive tomorrow, that he could stomach tomorrow.

Right now, there was a soft surface below him, a heater humming to his right, and a painlessness to his injuries that should have frightened him.

But he was too tired, so he slept.

[Directly before In for a Penny]

(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)

Taglist: @stargeode

#whump #angst #crying #exhaustion #fever #touch starvation #local anesthetic #stitches #painful wound treatment #pain medication #needle mention #shock collar #past torture #implied past noncon #anticipated violence #referenced character death #freelancers #shhhh he eepy <- my sleep schedule is so fucked. why do town council meetings run until 1 AM. #(it is kinda my/our fault for pestering them abt [redacted] buttttt whateves.)

[i-eat-worlds]

Wow Birthday Whump Day 11: Alt. Forced to Hurt a Loved One

this one is kind of a stretch but I couldn’t get my brain to work for the most of the alts or the originals so I hope you enjoy more medwhump.

Content: temporary character death, resuscitation, angst, medical whump, caffeine od ment.

Sil paused on stairs, taking a moment to catch his breath. His head was still throbbing from where he’d hit the ground after Electraz had hit him with an electrical blast.

It’d been stupid, really, leaving cover like he had to get to the car a couple seconds sooner. It was an unnecessary risk, and he’d paid for it.

At least the drive back had been short, just a couple miles to the hotel. Of course, when they’d arrived, the elevator had been out of service, and so he’d had to take the stairs. Not that he minded the stairs, but the blast must’ve taken a lot out of him. It was only another flight. He could make it.

Pressing a hand against his chest, he continued up the stairs. It felt like that one time he’d downed twelve espressos consecutively on a dare, all weird and fluttery. Afterwards, his hands had been shaking so much that he hadn’t been able to hold a pencil still. Between the dressing down he’d gotten from the medical officer and the time he’d spent camped out on the toilet, he’d learned his lesson.

Below him, he heard the sound of the door closing as Joseph entered the stairwell. He groaned internally at that, trying to pick up the pace. The lecture was coming, he was well aware of that, but it’d be great if he’d gotten to lay down first and rest a little bit before then.

He fumbled with the door key, clumsily sliding the card into the door several times until it finally beeped. His room was pretty cramped, but he found himself not minding, since it made the bed that much closer. The pain in his chest was building, and Sil found himself easily falling into the mattress.

His clothes were definitely still dirty, and between the mission and the walk of stairs, he was soaked in sweat, but it didn't matter. There was a feeling of doom building his chest, disturbing enough that he considered yelling out for Joseph. As much as he hated his protective, mother bear attitude and cross looks, he would come, and he would help. He needed help, he should…

Darkness came before he could get any further than that.

***

Joseph huffed as he entered the stairwell, letting the door slam shut behind him. The mission had gone on far longer than it should’ve, and now he had to drag his tired ass up the stairs because the elevator was down. To make things worse, the newbie had left his gear in a disgusting pile, meaning Joseph had to go up to his room and tell him to tidy his shit up. It was as if the universe was playing some cruel joke to delay his return to bed for as long as possible.

He was halfway up the stairs when he realized that the odd weight on his left thigh were his shears. For a brief second, he contemplated just keeping them on him, but he wasn’t that stupid. If he didn’t put them away, he’d never see them again. Grumbling, he continued up the stairs, electing to go get Sil and then go back down to the garage. That way, he’d be able to make sure that Sil put his stuff away properly.

Quietly, he padded down the hall, careful not to wake any of the other guests. The carpet was a bland, vaguely green beige color that Joseph thought looked like vomit. Excellent design choice. He knocked on the door, waited a second to let Sil scramble around and get decent, and then entered.

The first thing that he noticed was that the lights were off. Had Sil already gone to bed?

“Wakey, wakey,” he called, flipping the lights on as he walked towards the bed.

Sil was splayed out on the covers, head tilted to the side, feet hanging off the bed. “Sil?” He tried again, tone more urgent. There was no response.

“Sil, you with me?” He said again, one hand digging for his phone while the other squeezed his shoulder tightly. “Sil!”

Nothing.

Automatically, his thumb tapped out INSUPA’s emergency number. His eyes flickered to Sil’s chest while he slid two fingers under his jaw.

No pulse. Not breathing.

Fuck.

The phone rang on speaker while he scooped Sil up and laid him down on the oor. At least Sil had the decency to be small.

“INSUPA Emergency Line. Please state your identication code,” a robotic voice chirped.

“One-four-eight. Bravo-Zulu. Codename: Exhale,” he yelled at the phone while he cut off Sil’s shirt, shears quickly tearing through the fabric. There was a thin, red, angry mark across his upper chest, a telltale power entry burn. Great.

Not wasting any more time, he interlocked his fingers and started pressing hard and fast in the center of his chest, counting to thirty. “Record your message after the beep,” the voice prompted.

“Exhale speaking, room 318, Holiday Inn. Racer is down, suspected powered impact,” he rattled off, doing his best to keep count. The moment he was done speaking, he moved up to Sil’s head.

“Message sent,” the voice said while Joseph pinched Sil’s nose shut, tilted his head back and forced air into his lungs. Two breaths later, he switched back to compressions, willing a teammate to walk through the door already. “State additional queries.”

“EMS to current location,” he said, trying to keep his voice at a semi-reasonable volume.

“Request sent: EMS to 247 Merchant’s Lane, room 318,” the voice echoed. He switched back to breaths, ignoring the dread that flared in his chest at the blue tinge of Sil’s lips and the far-gone look in his eyes.

Like before, he went back over to compressions. He could feel Sil’s ribs breaking under the pressure, but he kept going. Two more cycles passed before, finally, the sound of the door flew open, footsteps storming into the room. It was Eric, followed by Avia. He stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the scene for a moment before jumping into action.

“Help’s on the way?” Eric asked, and Josephed nodded. “Avia, AED.”

“Where-”

Joseph cut her off mid sentence. “Elevator lobby, by the ice machine.” “On it!” They bolted out the door.

Eric dropped to his knees across from Joseph, Sil’s lifeless body between them.

“Switch.” Joseph called, queuing Eric. There were several seconds of quiet while he leaned over and exhaled into Sil’s mouth, watching his chest rise. Eric took over, leaning over his chest and taking over from Joseph. “I was four cycles in. Been about two minutes. Didn’t see him go down. EMS is en route.”

Eric’s brow creased, but before he could respond, Avia returned, Teri and Aarav hot on her heels. They both stepped to the side to let her through, Aarav’s jaw dropping open in shock.

She quickly powered it on, handed the included mask to Joseph, and started sticking the pads to Sil’s chest. Eric kept working compressing while they nimbly worked around to get the pads on, then connected them to the machine.

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch the victim,” it said, in a voice that somehow sounded far kinder than INSUPA’s answering machine. The word “clear” echoed around the room as the three of them lifted their hands up. A beat passed while the machine worked. “Shock advised. Charging.”

Eric fit several more compressions in while it charged. “Press flashing button to deliver shock. Do not touch the victim.”

“Clear,” everyone said again, pulling their hands back and away. As soon as Avia was sure everyone was out of the way, they pushed the button. Sil’s body jerked as the current passed through him.

“Resume compressions,” it instructed.

Joseph watched Eric’s hands carefully, making sure they were deep enough, ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut. He should’ve caught this. He should’ve noticed that Sil had been hit, noticed that he wasn’t feeling well, and asked him about it. It was inexcusable.

They switched out again, Eric scooting down by Sil’s head after Joseph had taken over. He could feel Sil’s ribs under his hands, broken from his actions. Even though he knew it was necessary, it didn’t feel good. Five more sets, another shock, and another switch later, a knock came at the door. “EMS! Did somebody call for a person who collapsed?”

Teri opened it as fast as she could, letting the medics inside. There was a fourry of motion, Joseph explaining what had happened and what he’d done in response while they attached him to their debrillator and took over compressions. The energy in the room was tense, Eric and Avia backing away to give them room to work.

Joseph’s brow furrowed, unhappy with the sudden resistance he felt while bagging Sil. He tugged on his jaw, trying to position it better, when he saw Sil’s eyelids briey open and then fall closed. “I saw an eye utter, rhythm check.”

The medic paused compressions, and they all looked towards the monitor. His Ps, Qs, Rs, Ss, and Ts were all in order, a beautiful sinus rhythm. The other medic reached for his neck. “I’ve got a pulse,” they announced. That made Joseph briefly hopeful, and he quickly beat it away with a stick. He was too well acquainted with Murphy’s Law for that. His eyes flicked to Sil’s chest to check.

Please be breathing. Please be breathing.

It rose and fell under its power. Far too slowly, but it moved. Sil was alive.

Barely.

But Sil was alive.

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps@rainydaywhump@painful-pooch@rainbowsandwhumperflies@snaillamp @whumperofworlds

#worlds babbles #wow birthday whump #collapse #medical whump #whump #temporary character death #medic caretaker #I kinda feel bad for not writing used as bait cause I know it’s wows fav so I might do it later #anyway guess who got cpr certified lol

[breezy-cheezy]

WHUMPTOBER Day 5:

Pinned down

Mr. Lee got infected with seaborn disease....due to the nature of it they can't sedate him to remove the infection so...mans is not having a good time.

Another idea I got from watching my friends brainstorm in the discord server :) More intense than my usual but still cool to work on!

#my art #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #no.5 #pinned down #arknights #Lee Arknights #drawing #surgery tw #hospital tw #medical tw #parasites tw #kinda...seaborn infection is kinda like a parasite #assimilating victims to the hivemind #poor Lee needs like a nice vacation off with the kids after this #idk what else to tag uh #blood tw #whump #thanks silver and canvas letting me borrow ideas again #and for the help and encouragement!!! I made it!! #I think that's all the Arknights on the menu hahaha #Lee is fun to draw tho sorry dude for the bad time #veins tw

[lili-loves-whump]

Do your worst <3

hell. yeah.

lili-lives-whump presents:

Dumb and Dumber

Villain ran a hand over their face, pressing their palms into their eyes. It felt cool against their inflamed face.

They swept their hair out of their eyes with a huff. Next to them, Scientist pushed their glasses further up their nose.

“You Need a break,” they squawked, eyes narrowing. “When was the last time you slept?”

Villain shrugged.

“You could carry groceries with those eyebags.”

“I get it, Scientist,” Villain snapped, turning around again. They went to point at the whiteboard when a wave of nausea suddenly rushed over them.

“Villain?” Medic said softly, standing up slowly.

“I’m fine,” they muttered, breathing deeply. Their stomach coiled into a tight knot and they blinked slowly. The light hurt their eyes.

“What were you saying?”

“The resistance,” Medic said, “Lab Tech needs more electrical power, and I was thinking we could take some from the recreational budget, so we need you to sign this-“

“And, Hero hasn’t responded to their emails so you should probably send someone down there.”

“Don’t forget the ragtag rebels need to be fed and checked for that plague going around-“

“Supervillain isn’t on vacation, so you have to check on their empire and parrot.”

Right hand looked up from the notes they were studying. They opened their mouth to say something, then closed it as they saw the look of horror overcome Villain.

“Hey,” they said softly, “what’s wrong?”

The lights above them began to flicker suddenly, and Medic groaned. “Lab Tech! Villain, they’re taking power from the meeting rooms. Sign this already, and you can work on diverting the power.”

Right Hands brow creased with worry. “Villain?”

As the lights flickered back on, Villain felt stiff, and their eyelids were droopy as they reached for the pen Medic was holding out. Their cheeks were hot with embarrassment and fever.

Their hands shook, and without warning, Villain collapsed at the table.

As their senses faded, Villain heard Medic say: “damn Villain, you’re really getting dumb and dumber.”

@whumpprentice

#is this my worst? #no #do I love it? #hell yes #lili loves whump #drabble #villain #hero x villain #creative writing #trope #whump #hero #villain whumpee kinda #Illness #right hand #medic #lab tech

[pigeonwhumps]

Telepathy and doctors

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @fuckcapitalismasshole @ghost-whump @whump-tr0pes @rainbowsandwhumperflies @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Santhiya, aged five, gets taken to the doctor's to find out why she keeps fainting all the time.

Based on this.

1.9k

CWs: minor whump (kinda), medical setting (mostly), mentions of bullying, fear of abandonment, mention of abandonment of a child, superpowers whump, fingerprick test (brief), mention of other medical tests, chronic condition/disability

"She keeps fainting," explains Santhiya's mum to the doctor, via an interpreter. Really, Santhiya thinks as she swings her legs back and forth on the chair, she's a bit insulted. She could do it.

"How often does this happen? And how long do these fainting episodes last?"

"Two or three times a week. It's only about a minute or so, but they worry us."

"I understand that," says the doctor calmly, writing something down. "Is there any unifying factors where she's more likely to have them? Times, places?"

Santhiya's mum goes quiet for a few minutes, and then she says, "Crowded places. She has a lot at school and her dance performances. And when we play games or her dad is working from home."

The doctor nods, and then turns to Santhiya. "These fainting episodes, can you describe them for me?"

Santhiya nods. "They're horrible. I feel like– this big emotion, and then I hear some voices that feel like that, and then I'm waking up on the floor or slumped in my seat and people are there and it's embarrassing."

"What sort of emotion?"

"Lots of different ones. And the voices seem to be feeling that too. I don't understand it."

"That's okay. We'll try our best to work it out. Thank you for telling me all that." He turns back to her mum. "I can't diagnose anything right at the moment, but I'd like to order a few tests, if that's okay. And refer Santhiya to a neurologist."

"That's brains? You think there's something wrong with her brain?" Her mum sounds worried, which makes Santhiya worried.

"I don't know, Mrs Choudhary. It's probably nothing to worry about. I'd like to order an MRI and a CT scan. It'd be up to her neurologist whether or not they want them, but the waiting lists for those tests can be quite long and that'll give us a head start. I'd also like to do a blood test, the clinic is still open next door. And there are a few things I'd like the two of you to do. Is that okay?"

Santhiya's mum swallows and nods. "I'll do what you think is best. I just want my daughter to get better. What do I need to do?"

The doctor smiles. "I'd like you to keep a food diary until you see a neurologist. That should be about two weeks, give or take. Feed her as you normally would, this is just to see whether anything such as sodium or blood sugar levels could be what's causing her fainting. And I'd like you to do a fingerprick test the next time she faints and is with you, if possible."

Her mum glances at her. "How do I do it?"

"I can demonstrate, if your daughter doesn't mind. Santhiya? It would just be a small prick."

Santhiya nods and shifts in her seat. She doesn't particularly want to do it but her mum seems to think it's fine so it probably is.

"Okay. Mrs Choudhary, if you'd like to come over here." He pulls out a kit and opens it, then opens a little pack displaying a needle. "It'll just be a little prick with this needle, okay Santhiya?"

Santhiya nods, eyeing the needle nervously. Her mum squeezes her hand. The doctor demonstrates how to prick her finger with the needle, then let it drip into a little pot. She doesn't like it. But it only has to happen once.

And besides, he's given her a butterfly plaster.

"Do it as soon as she wakes up, if you can. I'll print you off a blood test form, food diary and some guides to the tests. We'll find out what's going on as soon as we can, okay Santhiya?"

Santhiya nods. At some point, she's stopped swinging her legs, but she bounces off the chair and takes her mum's hand again when it's time to leave.

The blood test is scary, but as her mum helps her back on with her coat (the nice yellow one with the furry hood) she promises her some dosi from the nice shop on the way home, so Santhiya thinks it's probably worth it.

_

The neurologist's office is nicer than the other doctor's. The waiting room is in bright colours and the office is a nice blue with fish on the walls. It should probably be butterflies, to match the ones in her stomach.

Over the next year, she has to have lots of scary tests done. She even has to stay in hospital for some of them. She gets concussion twice and breaks her arm. Her parents are worried. They try to hide it but she can tell.

She's delighted by the glove balloon one of the doctors gives her though. She loves it. And she has a fluffy toy lemur now.

Finally she's referred to yet another part of the hospital. This one has green walls with safari animals painted on them, and the actual room has a weird bed that looks like a flat elephant.

The doctor smiles at her as she and her mum enter.

"Good afternoon Santhiya, Mrs Choudhary. Please take a seat." She waits for them to make themselves comfortable. "As you might've guessed, we have a diagnosis for Santhiya. We believe she has telepathy. Specifically–"

Santhiya doesn't hear the rest because she bursts into tears. No. No she can't have that, she can't!

"Santhiya?" asks her mum, alarmed, as if from far away. "What's wrong?"

"They'll take me away! I don't wanna go away! I don't wanna leave you and dad and everything!"

"Take you away? Who told you that?"

"A boy at school! He said– he said that there was something wrong with me and it was probably powers and that they'd take me away and lock me up or you'd abandon me and then they'd hurt me and I don't want that! Please don't make me!"

"Hey. Hey, look at me." Her mum cups her face in her hands and she tries to blink away the blurry vision. "Have I ever given you reason to believe I'd do anything like that?"

"No but he said you'd change your mind once you knew what I was! And his parents did, so–"

"I would defend you with my life. I don't care if anyone tries to take you, I am never letting that happen. Listen, Santhiya. You're my daughter. You always will be, whatever happens. I'd never let anyone do anything to you. Yeah?"

Santhiya nods and grabs her mum, pulling herself close. She eyes the doctor warily.

"Sorry."

Her mum kisses her on the head. "No apologies. Are you okay to continue?"

Santhiya nods and her mum sits down, gently pulling her onto her lap. "What do we do now?"

"I'll explain the details of her condition in a minute, including what it looks like on the scans. I think you'll like looking at them, Santhiya, even if you don't understand them. You can see your eyes on them." Santhiya's eyes widen. Wow. "But basically, Santhiya, you're picking up on people's thoughts and emotions, even when you're not trying to, and it's too much. You're strong enough to go deep into people's minds, but their views of the world and their thoughts and emotions are too much for you."

"Oh." That... that actually makes sense. She thinks on it for a moment. "Does that mean that it's their emotions and voices I get before I faint?"

"I believe so."

"I don't want to read their minds." It's not fair without asking and she doesn't want to faint either.

"I know. That's why we're going to help you. Santhiya, Mrs Choudhary, do you both want to know what the possible next steps are?"

Santhiya nods, and her mum says, "Please."

The doctor nods. "Santhiya, do you remember the last time you were in hospital and you had your head measured? And they showed you different colours of fabric and had you choose which one you liked best?"

Santhiya nods enthusiastically. She'd chosen the sparkly rainbow one.

"Well, it was for this." She pulls out something that looks like a... helmet? Fabricy helmet? Santhiya's not sure. But it's sparkly rainbow, just like she chose.

"It's for you to wear while you're out, to protect your head. I don't think any of us want to wrap you in bubble wrap but it will hopefully protect against you getting concussion again. Unless your mum really doesn't want you wearing one, I'd like you to try it on."

"Go ahead."

Santhiya takes the helmet and pulls it over her head. Her mum does up the straps and holds her hand as they walk to the mirror.

Santhiya tilts her head to one side, then the other. She likes the fabric, the way it shimmers in the light. But...

She bites her lip, seeing it wobble. It still looks silly. She'll be teased for it, she knows it, she already is for her fainting and going into hospital so much, and she's lost her friends because they don't want to associate with her or their parents don't want her around. This is going to make it worse.

"Do I have to?" she whispers, the words just for her mum. Not for the interpreter or the doctor, just between them.

"I'd like you to. It would keep you safe. And maybe we can go out more if we don't have to worry about concussion."

Santhiya perks up a little. "Can I go back to dance?"

"If the doctor says it's safe I don't see why not. Provided you wear the helmet."

Santhiya swallows. She doesn't want to but if it gets her back into dance...

"I'll do it."

Her mum smiles, and nods at the doctor. "She'll wear it."

"Excellent." Santhiya hops back into her seat. The helmet feels weird. "I'll refer you to a nurse specialist in addition to your appointments with me to help with issues such as dealing with schools. At this point we recommend counselling for Santhiya. With telepathy, there might be things she picks up on that she doesn't understand, or that hurt, and she needs to talk to someone outside her family about them. And for you and your husband, too, as her parents, to help with what you might be feeling about all this."

"The online booklets mentioned training?" asks her mum cautiously.

"Oh, you've done your research. Yes, we offer that too. It usually starts a little older, but since Santhiya's powers are already fast developing we can start early. With telepathy, it involves simple exercises to help her brain develop ways of making other's thoughts and emotions quieter."

"So– so does that mean I can't cheat at cards anymore?"

The doctor laughs. "I'm afraid so."

_

"And that's why I don't like your parents," finishes Santhiya. She's never told anyone the whole story before.

Phoenix frowns. "I've, um, never heard of these, um, services."

"Which is why I don't like your parents. How could anyone expect you to control your powers without training?"

Phoenix hums, cocking their head as they look at the photo album. "You know, it, um, it actually kind of suits you. It's your style."

Santhiya shoves them, laughing. "Oh shut up. I never should've let my mum show you these."

"She's proud of you. And, um, you might've lost your friends then but you, um, you have me now. And everyone else but, um, especially me."

Santhiya grins and kisses her, long and hard. "Oh, definitely you."

#whump #whump writing #santhiya oc #phoenix oc #(tiny bit) #look i wrote them being soft and in love together! #santhiyas mum is their biggest shipper btw #superpower whump #minor whump #i mean kinda its not all that whumpy #disabled whumpee #santhiyas powers definitely count as that at this point #medical setting #except for the fluffy ending #saying she doesnt like phoenixs parents is like saying the mariana trench is a little bit deep #its a goddamn fucking understatement #bb santhiya

[bleedingfromeveryorifice]

“You’re–” Klaus stammered, clearly in shock. “You’re full of shit aren’t you--?”

Gayle inhaled and paused. “Krueger, I know it’s hard to process, but–”

“You think that you can break me. You think that by jumping in here and telling me my dad is dead will somehow get me to comply with your shit. But it won’t work.”

Gayle walked towards Klaus, trying to comfort him in some way, but Klaus jumped back, swiping away at the doctor.

“Besides, I never cared for that fucker! The only thing he ever did for me was get me trapped here.” He was sobbing now. “He spent his every waking moment chasing down the Demon, forgetting that I even existed. To him, I was just another reason to get even with it. So even if he was dead, even if you killed him, you won’t get me to budge.” He was practically screaming now. Gayle slowly stepped back, keeping his eye on the kid in front of him, before bumping into the door. He only took his eyes off of him for a second to lock it. Immediately after the lock clicked, he heard a screaming sob from behind the door. He didn’t even flinch, accustomed to the sound by now. 

Gayle’s footsteps faded away from the room, squeaking on the tile.

#doai #doai au #doai oc #dreams of an insomniac #pastra #pastraspec #tw horror #klaus #doai klaus #gayle #i write sometimes #ask blog #oc #writing #whump #whumpblr #asylum whump #horror whump #lab whump #medical whump #whump writing #writers on tumblr #writblr #writeblr #non canon #kinda

[this-violence-of-mine]

i had a dream i was a nurse and the hospital i was working at was targeted by a gunman and i was shot protecting the patient i was with. now i'm not saying imagine caretaker and whumpee, but i am saying imagine caretaker and whumpee.

#whump #whump prompts #gun mention #caretaker whump #hospital whump #medical whump #kinda? #enjoy

[whumpy-bi]

The last thing Whumpee remembers is being sedated again, their interrogator—no, their torturer—nodding coldly to the doctors as they rushed closer to Whumpee’s table.

“They’re too worked up, I won’t get anything now. Calm them down.”

The doctors said something to each other, something was adjusted. And Whumpee felt sleep yank them down like a shark finding its prey on the surface.

They would’ve screamed in frustration if they had the ability to. It’d been weeks in the hands of the enemy, strapped down and constantly hooked up to the IV and dealing with daily questioning. They were so tired, sleep never felt like rest.

Whumpee felt themselves come back to consciousness, the familiar rough fabric of the medical cot rubbing against their face. There was more…noise than usual, they expected their room to be silent again. Now, they heard voices, the sounds of busy interactions close by. Strange.

There was someone standing over them, they felt it. They were fighting immediately, screwing their eyes shut and moving to tug at their arms—

Only…Whumpee’s arms flew up near their face. They weren’t tied down.

Someone was shoving—no, gently easing them back down, adjusting a blanket over them. Since when did they have a blanket?

“Whumpee, hey, no…stay down, okay? We got you, you’re okay. Go back to sleep.”

#whump #whumpee #writing #whump writing #caretaker #whump thoughts #whumper #dialogue #whump prompt #kidnapping #medical whump #kinda #rescue #implied torture

[hurtthemgently]

Whumpees waking up to see their wounds have been cleaned and patched up. They’re confused and wondering where they are. It hurts, every time they move. But they get up anyway, trying to find a way out. They get to the hallway, and start rushing to get away from.. from something. Only moments later they’re caught in someone’s arms, and they collapse. They look up to see:

Whumper

Or

Caretaker

#whump or whump #whump prompts #I’m sure I’ve seen both versions of these scenes before somewhere #could take place at a hospital #but I kinda like it more if it’s someone’s house #or like a castle or secret base #whump prompt #medical whump

[that-one-thespian]

The Physician's Son

The Cruel Prince The Assassin

He shouldn’t be here. His father would kill him if he found him here.

Seated at his workbench, Jethro turned a page, mumbling to himself. “Goldenseal maybe...?” His notebook was illuminated only by the flickering light of his candle and the light of the moon through a sliver in the drapes. Pages fluttered beneath his thumb, and he sighed when he went back several more pages than he intended, back to the beginning of his notes. A scribbled drawing of an aloe plant sat next to somewhat smudged handwriting. Aloe vera. Best for sunburns, aids skin irritation and improves oral health. Can be distilled. Can be mixed with ??? 

None of his experiments with aloe proved to result in anything useful.

Squinting at the mixture in the mortar, he lifted his monocle to his eye, then inspected the particles of the ground herbs clinging to the end of the pestle. Not quite right. He looked around for his father- nowhere in sight. With a glance over his shoulder, he lifted the candledish from the desk and tiptoed over to the much larger cabinet- the one he was forbidden to go into. Perhaps the herb he needed was in here- 

The sound of the door creaking open jolted him out of his musings. If his father caught him in here, he would never hear the end of the lecture about his “useless experiments.” A split second later, he slipped into the closet, peering through a tiny crack between the doors that lets in a sliver of moonlight. He blew out the candle, waving the resulting smoke away from his face.

Could that be?

Prince Michaiah walked into the infirmary, looking furtively around much in the way that Jethro himself had just done. He hadn’t seen Micah in these chambers in years. Not since before the burnings started. Not since before he changed.

The prince took a few moments to close the door, holding it up stiffly to avoid the creaky lower hinge that had been there since they were both children.

Jethro didn't dare to breathe.

Micah went straight towards the cabinet that Jethro had just been rifling through. It was too dark to make out what he was doing, but he could hear the whispers of drawers being opened, the soft rustle of dried herbs.

The prince looked over his shoulder again, then closed the cabinet and hurried from the chambers, leaving Jethro watching, wide-eyed.

No one was ever awake at this hour, not this late. Not the physician, not the king or the advisors, only some of the guards patrolled or stood at their stations. Jethro knew how to avoid them. Either they knew that Micah was raiding the herbs, or he knew how to avoid them, too.

He waited in the closet for what felt like hours after Micah left, not daring to emerge in case the prince was lurking.

Eventually, though, his legs were cramped, and the smells of herbs were overpowering, and he tumbled from the closet in an ungraceful heap. 

Scrambling to his feet, he checked the cabinet that Micah had been searching through. Several of the cloth pouches seemed to have been hurriedly replaced, and he started checking the labels.

“Witch hazel?” Jethro furrowed his brow, pulling his notebook from his satchel. It took him a few moments to flip to the page emblazoned with a sketch of the stringy yellow flower. Running a finger down the page, he started mumbling his scribbled notes aloud. “Good for insect bites, stopping nosebleeds, and-” He dropped his monocle, staring at the page. “Burns.” He slowly looked up towards where the prince had made his hasty, furtive exit, then back down at his notes. 

He looked up towards where the prince had made his exit, then checked the next bag of herbs Prince Micah had hastily shoved back into its compartment. He’d taken something else, too- willow bark. He didn’t need to flip through his notes to know willow bark was used for pain relief. Something began to tickle at the back of his skull, like when he knew he had all the components to put together a formula, but he just needed to figure out how. There was more going on here.

Even when he was back in bed, notebook slipped under his pillow, workbench cleared, and father unaware, Jethro stared up at the ceiling, unable to even entertain the possibility of sleeping.

Something was going on with Micah.

#whoops guess whos back after a ridiculously long writing hiatus #its me #jethro #micahverse #micah #burns #medical whump #kinda? #my writing #my characters #whump

[whumpacabra]

25. And now?

Medical treatment, referenced gunshot wound, stitches, and blood loss, internalized dehumanization, amnesia, memory loss, angst, implied past torture and captivity, briefly implied past noncon

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

The man - Dan - had gentle hands. Nothing like the medics in the bunker. The Wolf wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Is this alright?” Dan was always asking him about his comfort, about where he could touch him. It was almost enough to make him burst into tears and beg for the Box, for something familiar.

But the Wolf just nodded, jaw set and expression grim as Dan lifted the oversized t-shirt sleeve to change the bandages around his bicep. He was resolved to play the part of a real person as long as he could. He wouldn’t shatter like the others. He wasn’t made with the same fault lines.

(He would break differently - spectacular and vibrant and so very useless in the end. Neither sharp teeth nor silver tongue to save him.)

“How’s your pain? Think you’ll be able to sleep some more?”

The Wolf could still feel the dragging exhaustion of blood loss and hunger, but it was a dull pang compared to the vibrant sting of stitches in flesh. He shrugged, nodding along to Dan’s question. He could sleep with the pain. He had slept with worse.

“It’s going to need a sling for a bit.” Dan was talking to him without looking at him, focused on unwrapping pink stained gauze from around his aching arm. The sound of water running behind the bathroom door was a good reminder that Harrison was still here.

Whatever that meant for the Wolf.

“On which side of the wall did you grow up?” Dan’s eyes didn’t look up from his work to see the dread creeping across the Wolf’s face. “Merrill said you spoke German earlier.”

The Wolf tried. He tried to think about where he was from, when he was small and doorknobs were at his chest. His world only went as far back as four concrete walls and a flickering yellow light, caged and undying like a trapped angel.

“I don’t remember.” He whispered, a confession and a prayer. “I don’t remember…anything really, from before.”

“Harrison said your favorite gelato was vanilla.” Dan’s eyes smiled up at the Wolf, and he found a smile twitching at his lips as well. Dizzy with blood loss and giddy with the fresh air from the outside, he had kept talking as long as Harrison did, hardly hearing the words he spoke.

“Apparently. Guess I’m more myself when I’m drugged or bleeding out.” The facade felt threadbare as he tried to work humor into his voice. How had it been easier in the bunker? How had he effortlessly fit the mold his handler wanted him to fit?

“You’d be surprised how many people are the same.” Dan sighed, adjusting the pressure of the freshly wrapped bandages. “Harrison on the other hand seemed to clam up the more his painkillers kicked in. That or Tommy wasn’t asking the right questions.”

(The Wolf was not thinking of those military boots and that crisp uniform and Harrison alone being interrogated being questioned and refusing to break to betray to - to - He was stronger than the Wolf ever could be. Braver. Better.

The Wolf wasn’t thinking about it.)

“How much did he tell you?” His English rumbled, voice low as though Harrison had the same hearing implants as him. Did he? The Wolf didn’t know what his handler had done to the three volunteers before he became their demon.

(He didn’t want to know, but he did - had the handler been worse than the Wolf? Did that make his own actions forgivable?)

“Enough to properly treat your wounds.” Dan leaned back, responding in his odd American English accent and letting the Wolf’s sleeve fall back to cover his freshly bandaged arm. There was pity in his eyes. “Merrill got some numbing gel, if you’d like it.”

The Wolf felt his stomach clench, something between betrayal and disgust. He should have realized his more intimate injuries had been treated, but he had long since honed his ability to ignore those wounds. He blinked dumbly at Dan before looking at the ground, a harsh breath heaved from heavy lungs.

If Harrison told them about that…what else had he told them?

(“Same bitch, new collar.”)

“I’m not going to touch you. Not without your permission.” Dan’s voice was soft, eyes soft - the Wolf didn’t know what to do with softness he didn’t deserve, with mercy he didn’t deserve. “I’ll leave it in the bathroom medicine cabinet after Harrison gets out, alright?”

“Alright.” The Wolf echoed him, trying to pull together the tattered scraps of his mind. Did Harrison tell them about the Wolf: a monster, a devil, a hell-sent sadist who tortured, who nearly drowned him? Or did Harrison tell them about the Wolf: a handler’s broken in, second-hand bitch of an asset that couldn’t remember his own name?

Neither was particularly flattering. But at least the facade he had put on for the volunteers was never looked at with pity.

“It seems Harrison grabbed this before you left.” Dan pulled a manila folder from his bag. The Wolf’s eyes glazed over stamps he had seen on dozens of documents, focused solely on the tab label:

‘The Wolf.’

He swallowed hard, throat bobbing. He told Harrison he didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to remember what had been done to him. He didn’t want to remember what he had done. He didn’t want to remember what he had been before, what he could never be again.

“From what I’ve seen it’s heavily redacted, aside from a few photographs.” He ran a hand over the face of the folder, keeping it closed. “Just had a look at the first page, confirmed it was official and all. Won’t read anymore if you’d prefer, but…it may have some answers that could help you get home. Wherever that is.”

Home. Was the dark, cramped, almost-safe cold room he once called his own a home?

“I…don’t know. I didn’t know if I want - if I can…” The Wolf sighed, frustrated how his voice faltered. His handler had trained him too well, any intense emotion coupled with stifling silence. But Dan nodded, as if he could understand the Wolf’s fragmented sentences.

“If you change your mind, let me know. Merrill’s got a knack for these kinda things.” Dan left the heavy folder on the bed beside the Wolf, and he was almost tempted to open it.

Almost.

When Dan left the room, the Wolf slid it under the mattress, hidden and safe and out of sight, out of mind.

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

Taglist: @i-eat-worlds

#whump #angst #gunshot wound #stitches #blood loss #medical treatment #internalized dehumanization #amnesia #memory loss #past torture #past captivity #past noncon #freelancers au #it’s. a weird holiday in my house. bereavement feast kinda vibe bc of [redacted] #sorry for not posting earlier but. eh I’ve been busy <- playing video games w my bros to take the edge off

[i-eat-worlds]

Alex & Friends Part 12-Bandage Change

exactly what it says on the tin. Alex needs some love after last chapter.

cw: medical whump, aftermath of betrayal, panic attack, minor sh (biting cheek), gambling mention

The remainder of the evening was relatively relaxed. Eric had ordered everybody to rest and relax before tomorrow. Sil, Aarav, Avia, and Teri squared o in a high stakes game of blackjack, gambling with a bag of peppermints that Teri had on her for some reason. Sil had a habit of making enormous bets. He was twenty peppermints in debt already.

Joseph had pulled Eric aside, insisting on looking at the acid burn on his arm. It was mostly healed by now, Alex noted. He must’ve had some sort of super-healing ability. Still, Joseph took the time to take care of the wound, covering it with some sort of healing ointment and wrapping a bandage around it.

Alex was doing her best to catch some sleep, trying to ward off the heebie-jeebies the whole situation gave her. The one person she was supposed to trust had betrayed her. He’d betrayed her for Zorland. Zorland! He’d been there, he’d known what Zorland had done to her. Every horrible detail, every miserable thing. Was Zorland’s blood money more important than the thing he’d spent thirty years doing? She exhaled a shaky breath as she repositioned herself on the couch. Fuck. Tears were threatening to spill, and she couldn’t do that right now, not with all these strangers around. Half-strangers, really. She was going to set herself up as bait tomorrow, with their help. They probably didn’t count strangers anymore.

The wound on her leg had started aching again, now that the ibuprofen and adrenaline had worn off. She needed to change the bandages on it, but her limbs were heavy with exhaustion, and any movement would’ve sent tears rolling down her face. So instead, she stayed curled on the couch, breaths slow and quivering, as the tears slowly started to roll. “Hey, Alex?” A voice said. She jolted, whipping around to find Joseph standing next to the couch, medical bag in hand. Immediately, her hand went up to her face, trying to wipe away any evidence of crying. “Yeah?” She said, taking her feet down off the couch. “Whatcha need?”

“Oh, nothing. It's just bandage change time.” Joseph said nonchalantly. Alex twitched a little bit at the mention of him doing the bandage change again. Normally, she would’ve argued more. Tonight, she didn’t really have the energy, and it was kind of black and white. It’d been a couple hours. It was time for a bandage change. Joseph was team medic, who else was going to do it?

“Do you want to do it here or in the bathroom?” He asked. Alex weighed her options. If she did it here, she wouldn’t have to drag her exhausted self over to the restroom. It was tempting, but the thought of possibly breaking down in front of everyone was too much. “Bathroom.”

Joseph nodded and offered his hand for Alex to pull herself up. She swayed a little when she stood, leaning into her good leg. He seemed to notice her wobble. “Can I help?” “I’m fine, thank you,” Alex said. She wasn’t going to be touched more than she needed to. Besides, she could walk just fine, it was sitting up and standing down that made her unsteady. Once they were in the restroom, Joseph shut the door and set his bag down on the counter. “Tub’s probably the best place to do this,” He said as he unzipped his bag.

“Yeah.” Alex nodded, bracing herself against the wall so she was steady enough to step in. She slowly lowered herself down into the tub, facing her injured hip upwards so Joseph could access it. Joseph pulled the supplies he would need from his bag, setting them down on the counter. “How’s the pain?” He asked while he washed his hands.

“It’s not bad. Sucks but-” she shrugged “-I’ve had worse.” Alex pulled the top of her pants down, exposing the bandage.

“Okay. Do you want ibuprofen before or after this?” Joseph asked. Alex tried not to squirm as he pulled a pair of blue gloves on.

“After,” She said. Better to just get it over with.

She forced herself to relax. Joseph wasn’t Zorland. Or her handler, apparently. She didn’t really trust him, or Eric, or his team, but they were here, and her bastard of a handler wasn’t. It was probably thanks to them that her wound hadn’t killed her, honestly. There were worse people to be in hiding with.

“You know the drill,” Joseph said, squatting by the side of the tub. “I’m gonna touch you now.” Alex did her best to not tense up when his hands made contact with her skin. A shiver ran up her spine as he peeled the tape off. She felt so exposed right now, and not just because she was cornered in a bathtub, showing her injured hip to a person she’d known for less than forty-eight hours. Her handler’s betrayal had left her shaken. One person. She had trusted one person. And look where that had gotten her. Joseph kept his touch light as he cut away the ABD pad and revealed the wound. “It looks good.” He noted as he started removing the kerlix. “You did a good job of cleaning it out.” The remark sent a wave of nervousness through her, and she made herself to ignore it. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Joseph had figured it out. He’d seen her directly afterwards, and it wasn’t that hard to put the pieces together. Still, panic rose in her chest. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, trying to distract herself. Now was not the time for this. “Does it hurt?” He stopped repacking her wound. “We can take a pause if you need to.”

Alex shook her head. “You can keep going.” The wound hurt, but that was not her main problem.

“Okay.” His tone was neutral, but he hesitated before he began packing the wound. Alex did her best to read it as distrust, not concern. She failed.

Joseph pressed some new gauze into the wound, and she inhaled sharply. It stung more than she’d expected it too. Tears beaded in her eyes, and for some reason that Alex couldn’t explain, she let them fall. Quietly, they rolled down her cheeks. It didn’t take longer than two seconds for Joseph to notice. He’d turned away briefly to grab something, but the moment he was facing her again, he’d seen the tears. “I’m sorry.”

Alex opened her mouth to say it was okay, that she was fine, but no words came out.

“Can I finish dressing it?” He asked.

This time, she was able to pull a weak “yes” from her mouth. His hands were quick as he covered the wound with an ABD pad and taped it down. They were also uncomprehendingly gentle, and it made the tears fall faster. “I’m gonna pull your pants back up now,” Joseph said as he stripped off his gloves. He carefully maneuvered the waistband of her pants around the bandages. “Let’s get you that ibuprofen.” Alex wrapped her arms around her stomach, fingers digging into her sides. She shifted in the tub, trying to get comfortable on the cold, hard porcelain. “Thank you.” Her voice was coarse and quiet. “You’re welcome.” Joseph extended the cup of water out to her, then dropped three pills in her hand. “Here you go.” She quickly swallowed the pills, washing them down with the off tasting tap water. Joseph started to pack his supplies up, but he kept an eye on her while he did so. “It’s been a rough couple of days, hasn’t it?” Alex added a laugh at the end, but it did little to distract from her still shaky voice. “It has,” Joseph acknowledged. “‘specially for you.” He let a beat of silence pass. Alex swallowed nervously. “You know, if you don’t want to do this thing tomorrow, you don’t have to. We won’t hold it against you.” He turned to face her properly. “That’s a nasty wound there, and I know it hurts like hell.”

“I’ve had worse.” She shrugged. It seemed like he wanted to say something about that, but he didn’t. “We’re assigned to protect you. While going after that bastard of a traitor is important, I’m not, and nobody here is, going to force you to use yourself as bait. Your safety comes first.” “I want to do this.” Alex was finally able to summon some courage into her tone. “He fucked me over.” I want to make him pay went left unsaid.

And, from the look that Joseph gave in return, he wanted the same thing.

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps

#worlds babbles #whump #medical whump #medic caretaker #tw sh #tw gambling #< to be safe #alexoc #joseph oc #whump writing #stoic whumpee #this was kinda long lol #didn’t think it’d be 1400 words

[cyberneticasset]

This is Progress

He was awake

“You Americans,” The man’s laughter was harsh, “Always so dramatic. This,” He gestured to Bucky’s mangled limb, to the surgical tools, and around the room. “This is progress.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

<Always taking requests>

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Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Captain America (Movies); Captain America - All Media Types

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Hydra Agents

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•Bucky Barnes gets his arm removed •POV Bucky Barnes •POV Third Person •Dead Dove: Do Not Eat •Blood and Gore •Hurt Bucky Barnes •Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm •Bucky Barnes Remembers •Surgery •Medical Inaccuracies •Medical Procedures •Medical Trauma •Medical Torture •Medical Experimentation •Amputation •Amputee Bucky Barnes •Hurt •Hurt No Comfort •Whump

#anarchy writes #body horror #medical horror #it’s not hydra this time #winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky fic #dead dove #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier fanfiction #fic #hydra #hydra trash #htp #hydra trash party #kinda #metal arm #whump #whump words #whump writing #quwu #dark fic #hurt no comfort #hurt #medical torture #medical trauma #Bucky barnes pov #third person pov