#med whump

[its-my-whump]

Medwhump may - Day 1

Under anasthesia

@medwhumpmay

Tw: kinda emotional whump, angst, medical whump

"Not a fan." She heard herself mumble. This tiny dimly lighted room was like purgatory and that she could actually see the busy routine of the OR in the periphery of her vision was all the more frightening. Just an open door seperated her from one of her biggest fears. Being helpless and vulnerable, all alone depending on someone else.

"It's all right. We're all here to take care of you. But you need to calm down, please."

The nurse was sweet talking, but it didn't help. Her heartbeat was a hectic jumble on the monitor. At least it wasn't like in the movies and there was no sound, displaying her angst even audible. Her breath was already doing that. It came in stiffled puffs. She was trying everything not to slip into a panic attack.

The tiny sheet was doing nothing to make her comfortable in anyway, laying under it in her birthday suit. She was actually thrembling, yet trying to hide it. Unsucessfully.

The nurse and the doctor were exchanging some kind of non verbal arrangement. She had skipped them talking to her. "What?" Her voice trembling as her hands and feet were.

"We gonna give you some I-don't-care-meds to help you calm down a bit, okay." The voice of the nurse was even more sympathic.

Honestly, she wasn't actually okay with any of this, but she wouldn't say no to some I-don't-care-stuff now, either. Her nod got lost in the thrembling of her body.

Gloved fingers gently pressed down her outstreched arm to keep it from moving, while the syringe was emptied into her IV port.

The nurse put her hand on her shoulder. It was warm and made her feel even more ashamed about her fright all of a sudden.

Even though, it felt like an hour had passed, she definitely still cared. In reality, it was probably not more than 7 minutes. Not much of what the nurse was talking about or asking, reached her attention.

Unfortunately, it didn't feel like the meds had anything to do with it, but only her fear.

Fear of being naked inside a dimly lighted windowless room, depending on the attention and helpfulness of others, while a tube was done her throat and someone was cutting her open. Depending, that someone would really open the oxygen tank and far enough. Depending, that someone would take a look, if her heart was still beating. Depending on someone to use clean material to cut into her skin. Depending, that the scalpel wouldn't seperate any vital parts or poke into some organs. Depending, that the surgeon was sober and well rested. Depending, that they didn't forget any instruments inside her body. Depending, that they would sew her up properly afterwards. Depending, that they would let her wake up again. She definitely still cared a lot.

Because, that was a whole lot of depending on other people, for a girl, that never could depend on anyone but herself.

Apparently nurse and doc were satisfied, with the results of the I-don't-care-stuff, she still wasn't. A quick glaze to the monitor said, her heartbeat had slowed, but was still above 100bpm. She was still thrembling, but she wouldn't mind to be put to sleep, just to get it over with as soon as possible, or even more, just to clock out as soon as possible.

The nurse had said something. Whatever. Another syringe was pushed into the IV. More undeceiferable words. She could hear them, understand, that it were actual words, but her brain was muffed, she still put it on her angst. Cause, she didn't feel any kind of not-caring, still.

"Count backwards from 100, please."

The hell? 100? How long, does that stuff need, till she was finally asleep.

"100." Oh, her tongue was heavy already.

"99." Oh brain's not working.

"98." But a row of numbers can practically count itself, right.

"97." If it will be like falling asleep? Do you know, when you get unconscious?

And she was out like a light.

Part 2 (here)

My masterlist

#medwhump may #day 1: under anasthesia #whump #writing #whump writing #whump community #med whump

[whumperwithwings]

Medwhump May Day 2: Running out of time

  Caretaker tried to suppress the urge to hyperventilate as they looked down at where whumpee was laying on the gurney. They had been severely injured so, so far away from help, and the ambulance ride to the hospital had taken what had seemed like hours, as whumpee had laid writhing on the bed, in clear agony.

  “Come on, hurry him in! He needs a blood transfusion and surgery, now! Does anybody here know his blood type?” Somebody yelled while caretaker stood in front of whumpee as they were wheeled into a different room. They tried to enter, but was swiftly blocked by a man wearing scrubs.

  “I’m sorry, that’s the operating room. You can’t enter, we’re running out of time and going to start any minute. Wait in the lobby please.” He quickly told Caretaker before heading inside.

  We’re running out of time. That sentence rooted itself in Caretaker’s head, repeating over and over. The doctors were running out of time.

  Whumpee could die. Whumpee could die here, alone in that cold, sterile operating room. They were running out of time.

@medwhumpmay

#whump #writers on tumblr #whumpblr #whump blog #writing #medical whump #med whump #medwhump may #whump writing

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Make your whumpees go into shock. Do it.

Symptoms of hypovolemic shock (e.g whumpee has lost a lot of blood):

Hyperventilation

Confusion/anxiety

Sweating

Passing out

Clammy skin

Weakness

Low temperature and blood pressure

Rapid pulse

Symptoms of distributive shock (e.g sepsis, severe allergic reactions, asthma attacks)

Rash

Rapid pulse

Hyperventilation

Warm arms and legs

Skin that starts off warm then turns clammy and cold

Fever

Chills

Stomach pain

Confusion

Cough

Shortness of breath

Nausea

Throwing up

Either way, whumpee is most likely headed to the ICU. ASAP.

#whump #whump prompts #prompts #whump prompt #med whump

[medwhumpmay]

TW: MEDWHUMP/MEDICAL LANGUAGE

Hi everyone! @whumpetywhumpwhump here- I noticed there doesn't seem to be an official Medwhump May running this year, so I'm running one myself :)

I appreciate it's pretty late in the game to be releasing prompts, but I was waiting to see whether the official page was going to post anything before deciding to start mine. Hopefully a few of you would like to get involved (even if it is short notice lol)

RULES!

No AI-generated content

Please tag this account if you post your challenge submissions on Tumblr and use the tag 'medwhump may' (as in the tags of this post)

For completionists, all 31 days must be completed (using either the daily prompt or an alt prompt)

When creating content for chronic illnesses and seizures, PLEASE USE THE RELEVANT WHUMP TAGS INSTEAD OF THE GENERAL TAGS. e.g 'seizure whump' rather than just 'seizures'. This avoids important tags being flooded with whump fics

Have fun!

I will update these rules if necessary! Happy whumping!

Please reblog this to get the word out :)

#whumpblr #whump prompts #medwhump may #sicknario #prompts #whump #med whump

[scrimblobimblowhump]

tasty tasty little whump detail: someone gently adjusting an oxygen mask to hospitalised whumpee’s face, while cupping their face, caressing the straps, and stroking their hair. bonus points if whumpee is all sleepy and delirious and caretaker looks at them so so lovingly

#whump #whump prompt #medical whump #med whump #oxygen mask

[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

[dresden-syndrome]

Restraint frames for medical checks in class 4 detention units. Made for easier access to any needed body part while the subject stays properly restrained in one place. Frame designs depend on the facility; newer or remodeled ones usually have the standing frame type.

(Sorry for the art style change! I hope y'all will be understanding and let me draw in sketch format for a while!)

Art tag: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump @whumpedydump @whumpthefifth @monarchthefirst @sunshiline-writes @project-xiii

#whump #whump community #whumpblr #whump art #historical whump #totalitarian whump #medical whump #med whump #whumpee #whump oc #whump ideas #whump drawing #whump stuff

[loonybun]

mentally here

specifically on the slab. it is my home.

#whump #whumpblr #whump ideas #IM TELLING YOU PEOPLE!!! #USE!!! OPERATING/ANATOMICAL!!! THEATERS!!!! #PLEASE IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM #BEGGING YOU #whump community #whump writing #they are everything to me. #lab whump #medical whump #med whump #display whump

[whump-a-la-mode]

Refeeding Your Whumpee

TW: Disordered eating

• Your Whumpee has been starved for goodness knows how long, and you can now easily count their ribs. Now, they’re in your care.

• The easiest solution would be feeding them normally, right? Yet, your Whumpee is reluctant to eat, and what little they do get down comes right back up. Your whumpee is experiencing refeeding syndrome, a disorder in which a starved person becomes sick from eating food again.

• Treatment involves slowly reintroducing your Whumpee to normal food, while supplementing their diet with a feeding tube. Over one or two weeks, the amount of normal food is increased, and the amount of food through the tube is decreased, until the tube is no longer needed. Doesn’t sound easy, does it?

• After their first taste of food, Whumpee begins ravenously wolfing down everything in sight-- At least, when you aren’t around. Every time, this makes them terribly sick, yet, they keep eating, hoarding food, hiding and acting aggressively.

• Now what do you do? You have to keep Whumpee from eating everything, even when they insist that they’re starving. They may beg, they may cry, but it’s for their own good. Particularly sneaky Whumpees might need to have the food in the house locked up.

• What about the other end of the spectrum? A Whumpee that won’t eat, that’s far too frightened of punishment or sickness. Maybe they can try a protein shake? But, it’s been days, and they’re looking so thin... Is it right, to order them to eat, just so they don’t starve? What about forcing them?

• What about the feeding tube? Most Whumpees will shy away at the sight of it, and good luck getting them to sit still long enough for it to be inserted. You might even need to take them to a doctor-- Hopefully your Whumpee isn’t a bitey one.

• If your Whumpee was previously a pet, maybe they won’t want to eat human food. Do you allow them to eat the kibble they’ve become accustomed to? Do you make them eat human food? What about human food out of a bowl?

• Refeeding a Whumpee is certainly a challenge, but in the end, it’s for their own good. Even if it doesn’t feel like it when you practically have to force food down their throat.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump prompts #whumpee #whump prompt list #whumper #caretaking #food tw #forcefeeding tw #pet whump #pet whumpee #sick whump #med whump #sick whumpee #sickfic

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Can you please write something where the whumpee had to take some medicine which made them pass out/fall asleep for many hours and when they wake up all dazed and confused on the verge of tears hyperventilating because they don't remember anything , caretaker arrives and soothes them and just fluff

I really really love your writing too!! Thanks

Hi Anon! Sure! Thank you for the kind words, and for requesting this! Sorry it took so long, but here you go!

Whumpee was floating. They felt like they were drifting in a black ocean, the waves rocking them back and forth. Whenever Whumpee would try to think of anything, the waves would gently pull them under until their mind became blank again. Whumpee was just returning to the surface of the water when their eyes fluttered open.

They looked around the room- their room, they were pretty sure. But they weren’t sure of anything else, like how they ended up in their room or why they weren’t in the ocean anymore. The uncertainty scared them, so much so that their breathing quickened, and tears formed in their eyes. Why were they here? What was going on?

The door to their room- again, only partially sure that the room was theirs- opened, revealing a familiar face.

“Hey,” Caretaker greeted, “finally awake? Oh, oh my gosh, sweetheart-”

Caretaker quickly made their way to Whumpee’s bedside.

“What’s wrong?” Caretaker asked softly.

“Where’s the ocean?” Whumpee asked tearfully, “why am I in my room? This is my room, right?”

“Yes it’s your room, of course it’s your room,” Caretaker said, running a hand up and down Whumpee’s back.

“But how did I get here!? Why is the ocean gone!?”

Whumpee was fully sobbing now, and their breathing was so quick they were hyperventilating.

“Shh, shh,” Caretaker soothed, “Whumpee, honey, it’s okay. The ocean, er… the ocean just had to leave, okay? You were in an accident, you went to the hospital, they treated you, and then they sent you home on bed rest. I’m taking care of you, but you’re on some weird meds that might make you feel funny. Please calm down, Whumpee, take a deep breath. Come on, like this-”

Caretaker took a deep breath in and waited for Whumpee to do the same. Whumpee took a deep, shaky breath. Caretaker exhaled, and Whumpee followed suit.

“Good job, a few more times, alright?”

Caretaker walked Whumpee through the breathing exercise, at which point Whumpee had calmed down a little. They weren’t hyperventilating anymore, and their sobs had reduced to the occasional hiccup.

“Good, very good,” Caretaker praised softly, “I knew you could do it. Can I sit with you?”

Whumpee nodded, sniffling. Caretaker smiled and climbed in bed with them. They held Whumpee close, careful to not jostle their still-healing injuries.

“There now,” they said, “let’s just sit a minute. I’m making lunch you know. Wanna guess what it is?”

Whumpee shrugged.

“It’s bacon sandwiches,” Caretaker said with a smile, “you love those.”

“F-for me?” Whumpee asked, eyes wide.

“Mhm,” Caretaker said, “just for you.”

Whumpee still felt disoriented, but the promise of lunch had taken their mind off of the black ocean. They snuggled into Caretaker’s chest, their worries melting away.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

#whump #med whump #hurt/comfort #recovery whump #whumpee x caretaker #caretaker x whumpee #writeblr #writing #creative writing #snippet #as requested #delirium #panic attack #disorientation #confusion #hyperventilating #hospital mention

[hold-him-down]

Occam’s Razor

TW: medical torture, med whump, needles, drugs, noncon drugging, restraining, clinical setting, bone whump, spine whump, institutionalized slavery, whumper pov somewhere in there, etc.  

Notes: it’s the future if you have questions you’re welcome to ask but I might not have answers (but I probably do for most of them?). This is 2 months into contract, sandwiched between this and this. It has no business being over 3k words but it is and I’m not one to argue with my word count so you get ‘em all. This has been in the works since the very beginning as a little med whump piece, and now ya have it.

✥ ✥ ✥

If Luke’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel is any indication, the calm exterior is not entirely indicative of his headspace. Leo regards him, only slightly comforted by the fact that, for the first time in so many years, someone will be waiting for him on the other side.

On the other side of what, it’s unclear. The director of one of the sites called Luke earlier in the week and said he needed to bring Leo in. 

Luke pressed for information, and only after his lawyer got involved were they given any details. Something about his bone marrow being a likely match to a finance mogul’s teenage son, and they were invoking line seventy-six in the contract. No permanent harm would come to Leo, and the contract could be extended to the extent of his recovery time. 

He was in the room when Luke found out. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but he froze, watching Luke’s face go from red with anger to ghost white, and then Luke excused himself to his office, and Leo forced himself to take a bite of his dinner.

His hands shook, but that wasn’t new to him.

Luke did what he does best, which was make every threat he could, shout about some outdated laws that didn’t apply to workers, call in another high profile attorney to read through the contract, lose sleep, and eventually, have a serious conversation with him about the absence of any legal legs to stand on. 

That day had been the first time Leo had seen Luke cry. Leo didn’t cry, though. He nodded, he said it was okay, and, in a particularly courageous moment, he asked if Luke thought it would hurt. Stupid question, and he knew that the moment the words hit his tongue. Of course it would hurt.

Luke promised then that he’d make sure it didn’t. And Leo smiled, nodded, and changed the subject. Because, at least he suspected, that Luke really didn’t know. But maybe, he convinced himself, maybe Luke could work a miracle.

✥ ✥ ✥

They let Luke come back with him, after a lengthy discussion that consisted mostly of thinly veiled threats. Leo keeps his eyes on the floor. He doesn’t think he’s had this specific procedure done before, but he knows it can’t be worse than some of the other things that have been done to him in the name of making wealthy men’s lives easier. 

He made a mistake last night, though, and looked up the procedure on his phone. While he wasn’t certain exactly what he was looking for, he stumbled across more than a few resources for workers’ rights regarding medical ‘donation’, and a range of possibilities for what those procedures looked like.

None of them looked good.

He carried his phone into the living room and showed Luke; another mistake. Luke, solemnly, read it over.

“It won’t be like that,” Luke said, but his expression was tight. 

“Are you sure?” Leo asked then, his third mistake.

Luke’s eyes rose from the phone to meet his. “I swear to you, Leo. I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re taken care of.”

And then, just as Leo was about to go back to bed, to try to get at least a few hours of sleep, he turned back. “Do you think–” he started, swallowing, his eyes digging into an invisible spot on the floor. He had learned, over the course of the last several years, that he was entitled to no support, no resources, no favors. But, if the last eight weeks had taught him anything, it was that Luke was, at least on some level, willing to help him. He took a breath. It was despiration that made him ask the question: “Do you think they’d let another doctor do the procedure? Maybe your brother, or you–”

Luke took a sharp breath and shook his head and Leo’s shoulders dropped, his arms wrapping around his belly, dread winding itself deeply inside of him. “I tried,” Luke said, and Leo nodded.

“Leo, you have to know I tried. They wouldn’t budge.” Luke stood, crossing the room, and Leo nodded again.

“It’s okay,” Leo said. It was a silly thing to request, and it didn’t matter if Luke tried or not. He had survived worse, and he would survive this.  

He didn’t sleep, though. 

Now, he pulls off his clothes and is changed into a hospital gown. Luke is outside of the room talking with the doctor. They are in a medical wing of one of the private sites, and Leo does all the things he’s supposed to do. He stands on the scale, he answers the questions, he submits to whatever they want him to submit to.

By the time Luke returns, with a woman in her forties with kind eyes that almost– almost– convince him he can get through this, Leo has an IV in his arm, a pillow to his chest, and a warm kind of zinging running through him. It feels weird, and he doesn’t like it, but if it helps him get through the next couple hours, he can accept it. 

“How are you feeling?” the woman, who’s name tag reads Dr. Jennifer Benson, M.D., but who Leo will not address by name unless he’s told to, asks. She is flanked by two handlers, and Luke, looking pale but offering the warmest smile he can. Leo tries to approximate one in return, but knows it doesn’t land.

“I’m okay,” Leo says.

Distantly, he hears Luke talking to one of the handlers and he smiles. He knows he’s at least a little bit loopy, so he’s definitely been given something that will do something, and he hopes it’s good. He feels less anxious, at least.

“Edison Black assured me I could stay for the procedure,” Luke says, all official. He sounds like the Luke on the news, in a suit, yelling about rights and freedoms and America. He squints and scans the room slowly to find his Luke, in his sweater and jeans and yelling about local anesthetics. Leo’s finding it difficult to split his focus on the words they’re saying, on the feeling of the handler moving next to him, on the ringing in his ears.

Sometimes, if he asks, they let him close his eyes until the worst is over. If they allow Luke to stay, he won’t ask. And he won’t cry out when it hurts. And tomorrow can be a normal day.

Through the buzzing in his ears he hears the doctor, full of sympathy that he knows will dissolve once Luke leaves, saying, “Unfortunately, that isn’t possible. We will keep him safe. It’s a simple procedure, very low risk, he’ll be done within an hour.” 

None of these words comfort him, but he finds Luke’s eyes across the room and tries to smile again. It’s going to be fine. He’s been through worse, and he’ll go through this, and then it’ll be over and he will go back to Luke’s house and sleep. 

Luke makes his way over to him and kneels down, and Leo works to maintain focus. “They won’t let me stay,” he whispers. Leo nods.

“It’s okay,” he says. His eyes hold Luke’s, his expression conveying something that he thinks is reasonably close to I’ll be alright. He must have missed the mark, though, because Luke stands abruptly, and starts fighting with them again.

Leo wants to tell him to stop, that it’s pointless, that it’s futile, that it’s a waste of his effort and that he will, one way or another, make it out okay.

He opens his mouth to say it but the security guard comes in, and they shuffle Luke toward the door.

“I’ll be right in the waiting room,” Luke calls to him. 

He swallows back the anxiety, and he tries to say, “It’s okay,” again, but nothing comes out.

“They said they’ll give you an anesthetic, Leo. It won’t hurt, okay?” Luke breaks past the guard and pushes toward him. As the handlers approach him, Luke snaps, “Just give me a second,” his tone sharp. At some signal that Leo can’t see, they back off.

“I’ll be in the waiting room, okay?” His eyes shut as Luke grips into the back of his neck, the pressure a familiar presence that does, if nothing else, offer some semblance of comfort.

“I promise, I will be right outside, and they’ve assured me they’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” A half-hearted smile.

“It won’t hurt.” A nod.

Leo isn’t sure if Luke believes his own words, but as the guard ushers him toward the door, the look that Luke casts on the room, on the doctor, and finally, on Leo, makes him think maybe he doesn’t.

And then he’s gone, and almost immediately, Leo feels his hands start to shake.

✥ ✥ ✥ [here’s the cut scene from what would land right here]

He is on his side, his body curled around a pillow, when the first of the needles goes into his spine. He flinches, but stills under the glare of the handlers. They watch him with a familiar hunger, not for pleasure, but for violence. Tears sting at his eyes, but the thoughts of disappointing them, of what they might do if they think he’s unlearned all the years of training, keep them from falling. Instead, he digs his fingers into the pillow while they take what they want from him. He isn’t even sure what it was.

He’s not naive enough to believe that’s it; they’d have let Luke stay for that. He knows without a doubt that it would be in vain, but still, he itches to ask them what’s going to happen next, if just so he can mentally prepare himself. 

He doesn’t, though. He’s given a paper cup of water and his shaking hands give him away, but no one pays attention to that.

“Alright, Leo,” the doctor says, from somewhere behind him. Suddenly, her hand is on his shoulder, the handler takes the cup and the pillow, and a chill runs through Leo’s body. She guides him onto his stomach and he complies, the loss of the pillow in his grip an immediate empty presence that makes the room even colder.

“Easy,” the doctor says, and he mutters an apology and adjusts his body to the closest thing to comfort he can find.

She gives him a quick run-down of what’s going to happen. It’ll hurt, she tells him, but it’s very important that he stays very still. If he tries to get up, if he tries to fight, the pain will be significantly worse. This needle is quite a bit bigger than the last, and if nothing else, he needs to hold still. A hospital stay is the last thing he wants, she tells him, and if he needed any convincing, that would have done it.

“You’ve been given muscle relaxers and a mild sedative to help take the edge off the pain,” she says, gloved hands manipulating him to adjust his positioning. He does.

She waits for his response, and he isn’t sure what’s expected of him, so he says softly, “Thank you.”

He hears her intake of breath and feels the cool air hit his skin as the blanket is removed. He grips the sides of the table as they get him ready for what he knows now, without a question, is going to be bad. One of the handlers pats the top of his hand and he peeks up at them. They nod, a kind of I’m-right-here-if-this-goes-bad gesture that is too vague for Leo to know if it’s meant to be comforting or threatening.

It turns out he doesn’t need to decide, because a moment later, he feels the familiar sting of a needle and gasps, and almost instantly, he realizes that it’s going to be so much worse–

The needle cuts into his bone and he howls on instinct, his fingers clutching almost painfully into metal, but he doesn’t feel that. He doesn’t feel anything beyond the needle making its way slowly into his bone. He only knows he’s screaming because of the rawness of his throat, from the vague ‘shhing’ coming from somewhere beyond his reach. He wails, grasping harder still onto the sides of the table, pressing his face into the pillow, muffling the sounds as much as he can. Luke can’t hear this, he thinks distantly, he can’t know, and so he tries–

His body jerks, and he tries to still himself but he’s on fire, an unbearable kind of pain that he can’t count through and he can’t think through. From next to him, one of the handlers pries his fingers off of the table, and the feeling of unyielding metal is replaced by warm skin and he knows someone is petting his hair and someone is holding his hand and maybe, somewhere lower, someone is holding him still against the table, but he can’t process anything beyond the pain.

✥ ✥ ✥

For a split second, they make eye contact. Handler Michael Lowell instantly realizes that he might not have the stomach for this job anymore; the boy has him in a bone-crushing death-grip, and all he can do is stare at him as the doctor pushes the needle the rest of the way in, and the screaming chokes off. Leo muffles his own cries against the thin pillow beneath his head. Beads of sweat drip down his neck, skin patched in red, veins and muscles straining against the intensity of his suffering.

“I know,” the doctor says, drawing the plunger up. It’s a slow process, and Michael isn’t positive if they’re intentionally torturing this kid or if it’s incidental. Sixteen years on the job and he’s seen a lot of shit, but as the doctor says, “Almost done,” he struggles to parse out what’s what.

Leo convulses on the table. Guttural sounds claw their way out from somewhere deep inside of him and honestly, you’d think they were fucking killing him, and it was entirely possible that they were.

“I know,” the doctor coos almost; it doesn’t help. His grip doesn’t let up, his shaking doesn’t let up, and his body’s taking on a kind of clammy-cold situation that doesn’t seem like it’s a good sign. Michael assumes the doc is aware of all three of these things, but none of them seem to be alarming to her.

It’s only a matter of minutes, but it feels like fucking hours. His free hand is on Leo’s neck, half-restraining, half-comforting. He’s gone soft in his age. 

He can feel Leo trying to lift himself up, trying to pull his arm back to get it under him, but he keeps him pinned, and tells him, more gently than he’s used to, “Uh-uh. Hold still.”

If he were at one of the training sites, they’d just knock him out. He isn’t sure why they didn’t, but it probably has something to do with something. He’s not asking and no one’s telling him. 

“Almost there,” the doctor says again, and then, without fucking fanfare, she pulls the needle out, and she’s pressing a bandage into the spot where the needle was, which immediately turns red. Michael looks away. 

Almost instantly, though, Leo starts gagging, and this time, Michael lets him pull his hand free. He wedges it under him, leveraging his head and chest off the table. Leo retches in between cries, but with the worst over, his body’s losing steam. His breaths are ragged, the tension in his muscles begins to let up and Michael wonders if he’ll pass out. He hopes he does, and then berates himself for going soft again.

That’s when the shaking starts. Michael takes a washcloth, wiping first his face, then his neck and the parts of his chest that are visible, the spots of the table he has access to. The doc puts something into the IV, all the while Leo trying to catch his breath, tremors rolling through every inch of him. His weight has dropped back to the table, and he presses his forehead into his arm. His sobs are lighter now, his breaths deeper, but still patchy as hell.

“All done,” the doc says, like it was easy peasy. Michael’s certain Leo doesn’t hear her. And then, to Michael, she says, “Make sure he’s cleaned up and completely calm before you let Mr. Bennett see him. Try to get him to drink something when he’s ready.” Michael is pretty fucking sure being a nurse isn’t in his actual job description, and he doesn’t know exactly how to get Leo calm and clean in the next seven fucking minutes before his shift ends, but that’s someone else’s problem. He’s been traumatized enough for one day. 

The doc bandages Leo’s back, then pulls off her gloves, giving Leo’s shoulder a squeeze as she leaves. It’s condescending as hell, but he thinks maybe Leo’s on someone’s bad side to begin with, because he’s no doctor, but that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Michael makes eye contact with the other handler, who’s been equally silent up until now, and gets to work.

✥ ✥ ✥

Luke is ushered back into the exam room two hours after he left. The handler walks him as far as the door, tells him to take his time, and to let them know if anything is needed. He shakes his head and bee-lines to Leo’s bedside.

Leo is curled up under a thin blanket; his skin’s pale, but he looks alright. The IV has been removed, there’s a cup of water on the tray table beside him. 

“Hey, buddy,” Luke says, by way of greeting. Slowly, Leo’s eyes open to meet his, and he smiles, the sad tell-tale smile that exudes exhaustion and sadness and anxiety. He looks him over; nothing overtly ringing any alarm bells, but he doesn’t trust these people.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Luke whispers. Leo’s eyes are red but focused, and he moves to sit up as soon as Luke says the words. “Keep resting for a minute,” Luke says, but Leo pushes up anyway. “I need to go talk to the doctor, and then we’ll be out, okay?”

He waits for Leo to respond, searching his eyes for signs of clarity or understanding or acknowledgement. Just when he thinks he won’t get anything, that maybe the drugs haven’t worn off completely, Leo whispers, “Please don’t l-leave me.” And then, a moment later, he adds, “Please don’t leave me here alone.” 

Luke swallows painfully and kneels next to him. 

“No one’s going to touch you, buddy,” he whispers. “I need to get the discharge papers signed, and then we can go, okay?” 

“Can I come with you?” Leo says then, looking up at him. Luke’s breath catches. Leo’s voice is hoarse, and as he sits, he winces. Luke looks around the exam room, empty now except for the two of them, cleared of all evidence of what happened. He feels rage bubbling up inside him, but he tries to talk himself down. They need to get out of here.  

“Can you walk?” Luke asks, and Leo nods. He stands, slowly, and they make their way to the reception desk, where Leo finds a chair by the door. 

Luke is ushered into a small room off to the side and Leo, once again alone, pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them. He buries his face between his knees. Luke will be back for him. Luke will be quick. Luke knows he’s upset, and won’t make this long.

After a few minutes, Leo hears shouting, his eyes snapping up to the door that Luke disappeared behind. The receptionist exchanges a look with him and smiles, shaking her head. Leo’s gaze once more shifts to the window. He can see Luke’s car, and he wishes Luke trusted him enough to leave him the keys so he could wait outside. He feels the receptionist staring at him, and he turns away. Luke will be done soon, and he can go back to his bedroom and his books and his lion and he can crawl under the blankets and sleep, and when he wakes up, he will feel better. 

He daydreams about it while he waits, and eventually, the door opens, and a stony-faced Luke emerges quickly. 

✥ ✥ ✥

“Are you ready?” Luke asks, injecting the most casual-calm into his voice that he possibly can. Behind him, he hears the doctor close the door. In the window, he can see her reflection, arms crossed over her chest, leaning casually against the reception desk.

As they make their way to the door, in an act designed purely to spite him, the doctor calls to Leo, “Be good, Leo,” and Luke freezes, itching for violence but ever aware of at what cost that would come. Instead, he turns to her. He commits her face, her name, her voice, to his memory, so he can fuck up her life later.

He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but when it comes time to try the guilty for crimes against humanity, her name will be among the top on his list.

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#little light med whump to end your work week #med whump #spinal tap #forced bodily fluid donation #sure #that's a tag now #bone marrow stuff #needles #medical setting #questionably accurate med whump #noncon drugging #bodily restrained #institutionalized slavery #tada

[whumperwithwings]

Medwhump May Day 3: “Squeeze my hand”

The prompt said “Squeeze my hand” but my brain thought “bad caretaker lul”

———

  “It’s going to be okay. Squeeze my hand.” Caretaker said those words as sweet as sugar, trying their hardest to reassure whumpee and stop them from having a panic attack over something so trivial.

  My gosh, can you stop freaking out? It’s literally just a routine blood draw. Everybody does this. Caretaker kept their true thoughts to themselves. They knew that after whumpee was kidnapped, they were going to be different, and have mental issues, but it had been two entire months and Caretaker was just so, so done with whumpee freaking out over the tiniest things imaginable. Whumpee had bloodwork done in the past, and they were fine! They needed to stop being so irrational.

  Whumpee gripped onto Caretaker’s hand way too tightly, to the point where it hurt. My god, I just want to go home and do normal things like taxes, instead of taking care of this adult child. Whumpee was more than old enough to take themselves to their own doctor’s appointments and comfort themselves, so why did Caretaker’s hand need to be squeezed as the doctor inserted the needle? Why did Caretaker have to hurt for Whumpee’s fear?

@medwhumpmay

#whump #writers on tumblr #whumpblr #whump blog #writing #medwhump may #medical whump #med whump #needles #bad caretaker

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Sedate your whumpees. Do it whether they want to be sedated or not.

Perhaps they're trying to fight against the doctors who are attempting to help them because they don't understand what's going on, and all caretaker can do is stand back and tearily watch the needle slip in and whumpee's consciousness slowly slip away. Their limp arm is placed back down on the sheets beside them and the doctors now have no resistance to their treatment plan.

Or maybe whumpee is in so much pain/discomfort that they're begging to be sedated. All they want is to be unconscious so they don't have to be aware of all that they're suffering through. The feeling of going under is terrifying to them, but it's worth it. Caretaker sits beside the bed holding their hand, watching the glaze enter their eyes as they start to blink slowly, then drift off.

In either situation, the result is that the whumpee looks peaceful at last. Whether they're actually peaceful within is a whole other thing

#whump #whumpee #sedation #sedation whump #sedative whump #whump prompts #sickfic whump #whump prompt #med whump

[lostwhump]

The O.C (2003-2007) || The Aftermath (3.01)

#the OC #oc edit #whump #whumpedit #logan marshall green #ben mckenzie #tvedit #tvgifs #televisionedit #cinematv #filmtvcentral #filmtvdaily #filmtvtoday #tvandfilm #televisiongifs #hospital #blood #med whump #flashing gif tw

[scrimblobimblowhump]

medical whump detail: when the oxygen mask is all fogged up, obscuring whumpee’s face <333

#whump #whump prompt #medical whump #med whump #oxygen mask #can you tell i love oxygen masks

[dresden-syndrome]

Lab whump hellooooooooooo???? What's your favorite lab whump scenario to put helpless whumpees in?

Hello there! Thank you for asking!😌✨

Here's my favorite stuff the EESU Advanced State Research lab whumpees are forced to go through:

🔸Doctors gathering around a restrained whumpee on the medical table

🔸Gently patting whumpee on the head while rubbing a disinfectant cotton pad across the exposed skin before the injection

🔸A terrified whumpee, held by the staff or strapped to bed without even a slightest room to resist, bracing themselves for what's to come, eyes filling with tears and futile, empty pleads for mercy coming from their lips

🔸The vulnerable, completely exposed whumpee being closely watched by doctors and nurses during the experiment

🔸"Shh, don't fight it. The more you struggle, the more it will hurt. "

🔸Sedating aggressive, fighting whumpee with a drug that takes a while to kick in and watching them trying desperately to stay awake

🔸Painful procedures without anaesthesia AS A PUNISHMENT FOR ATTEMPTED ESCAPE

🔸Being called an assigned number instead of whumpee's name

🔸Whumpee instinctively searching for a hiding place at the tiniest sounds of doctors' footsteps

🔸Getting praised about what a good subject they are, how useful they'll be for the government and how their contribution will advance the people's healthier and happier lives

🔸Getting reminded they're not a person anymore, nothing more than a living material to use and everything performed on them is ideologically justified

🔸Medical stuff talking about whumpee as if they're not in the room

🔸Radio or vinyls playing in the hall to drown out whumpee's screams and cries

🔸Shivering and clenching with dreadful anticipation before the pain begins

#whump #whump community #whumpblr #lab whump #med whump #medical whump #iron curtain whump #whump ideas #whump prompts #ask answered