#amputee whump

[mj-iza-writer]

Warning: amputation, burn victim, suicide attempt, hatred to someone's race. Contains: prisoner of war, grumpy unwilling Caretaker, snarky Whumpee. Recovery Whump.

"Hey Caretaker, we got a rough one", the team walked into the medic's office, "peeled them off the battle ground. They were left for dead by their people during a retreat. They're still alive because of Leader."

Caretaker watched as someone was hoisted roughly onto the operating table.

The person was wrapped in tattered rags and whatever else the soldiers could find.

Tiny whimpers escaped the gnarled form.

"They stumbled out of a burning building", Leader came in, "I think you can see they were in there for a little too long. They're a little crispy around the legs. The rest of them looks alright though. They've been crying in pain our entire way here though."

Caretaker pulled some of the cloth off of the gnarled skin, "so what do you want me to do? Need them alive for questioning?"

"I was hoping to return them to their family. We may be enemies, but we're not monsters. I'm trying to reach out to the leaders of that side", Leader looked over Whumpee, "just see if you can get them stable enough to be transferred."

Caretaker laughed roughly, "you're kidding. You want me to waste time and resources on trash. Why not take 'em out back and kill 'em."

"They are someone's family", Leader sighed, "just stabilize them."

"What if I refuse?", Caretaker argued.

"I will lose a lot of respect for you. And you'll be dishonorably dismissed from your duties. You'd let a poor soul sit in pain just because they were born somewhere else", the Leader glared, "I don't know anyone else who can fix this. You won't even willingly look at them. You have what's needed, we have plenty of supplies to help them."

"Fine", Caretaker raised their voice, "but I'm not doing this willingly", they turned to the person on the bed, "and I won't be gentle. If I hear any complaints from them... I will only be rougher. Now get out of my office."

Caretaker grumbled as they turned.

Leader stepped over to Whumpee as the team left.

"I will be back to check on you. Hopefully with some good news about returning you", Leader sighed, "don't let Caretaker scare you, they know what they're doing, just a little angry about it."

Caretaker cursed in between every breath.

"What were you even doing in a building?", Caretaker sighed as they worked, "probably trying to desert your post."

Whumpee winced louder than before.

"Sorry... sor... uh **cough**", Caretaker frowned, "I guess I did that a little harsher than I planned."

Whumpee took a few short breaths.

"De... de", Whumpee tried to talk.

"De-what?", Caretaker looked at them roughly, "deserter? As I suspected..."

"Decoy", Leader had snuck in behind Caretaker.

"Decoy?", Caretaker turned.

"They are a homeless person, pulled off the streets and forced to fight", Leader sighed, "they were considered expendable. The soldiers had to escape. They left this one in the building for us while they left. The building was purposely set on fire to get this one to run out at us. That way, our soldiers only focused on them, not the retreaters. They will be killed if we hand them back to their people."

"That's horrid", Caretaker looked down at their hands.

Caretaker followed Leader out after a guard came to monitor Whumpee.

"So what are your thoughts?", Leader looked behind them to see Caretaker.

"I have to amputate. Both of the legs are gone", Caretaker frowned, "their lower half is still burnt, but not as bad. I can work with it. The legs are a no. It might be better to kill them. A mercy kill. What are we going to do after? Hand them back, and let them get killed? Then, it would still be a waste of time and resources."

"I thought about...", Leader paused in thought, "keeping them here with us. They could live with me."

"Here... you're kidding", Caretaker frowned.

"No, I'm not kidding", Leader sighed, "you should have seen them stumbling out of the fire, it was heart breaking."

Caretaker glared.

"Don't look at me like that", Leader frowned, "do the amputation, give them a chance."

Caretaker came in later carrying a tray.

"You need to eat something", Caretaker set the tray down.

Whumpee watched them nervously.

"I'm not going to hit you, you've been hurt a lot already", Caretaker sat down, "just need to feed you."

"I'm not hungry", Whumpee mumbled, "why do you care?"

"I don't care... you got that right", Caretaker raised their voice, "Leader is the one who cares. Actually I now have to amputate your legs because of Leader's little sympathy project."

"Am-amputate?", Whumpee's eyes widened, "I-I don't want that."

"You don't get a say", Caretaker shoveled a spoon full of the food into Whumpee's gasping mouth, "I will make you comfortable tonight. The surgery gets done tomorrow. You're a prisoner, you don't get to decide what happens."

Whumpee choked slightly.

"Please just kill me. I-I was meant to die anyway", Whumpee pleaded.

"I would happily kill you. You are nothing but trash in my eyes", Caretaker roughly shoveled more food into Whumpee's mouth, "Leader wants you alive, so again, you have no choice."

Whumpee frowned as Caretaker walked away. They had placed an IV into their arm.

They reached for the IV, but Caretaker threw something at them before they could yank it out.

"I swear, I will perform this amputation without anesthesia if you pull that out. You will go through this battlefield style", Caretaker warned, "I'll even rub dirt in to make it more realistic."

Whumpee huffed.

"You know what, I think it's time to start", Caretaker came over with some injections, "give me some peace finally."

Whumpee watched as an injection was administered.

"What is.. that?", Whumpee whispered, "I-I feel numb suddenly."

"It is an anesthetic. In a few moments, you will not feel or be able to move. After you confirm that you can not feel anything, I will put you under."

"Wow, this is the first time in a while that I don't feel any pain", Whumpee looked up in amazement.

"Don't be dramatic, you've only had these burns for twenty-four hours or so", Caretaker prepped the breathing mask.

"My pain started much before this", Whumpee sighed, "do you think this is my first pain? Do you think I was treated well over there? I was homeless. Trash, like you said. I wasn't given food, just scraps from the other soldiers. This is the first bed I've slept in in years. Even in war, I was too broke to afford blankets. I slept on the ground. Normally, where my body collapsed. The expendable soldiers normally slept together in piles to keep warm. We weren't seen as much there either. Though you don't like me, you've shown more mercy to me than anyone else has. That's why I was hoping you would kill me, to show me a final mercy."

"I can't kill you", Caretaker talked lowly. Semi-comfortingly even, "I'm sorry for your luck, but it's time."

Whumpee grunted as Caretaker forced the mask on them.

"Do I get a final word or something?", Whumpee mumbled muffly, "in case I die?"

"You won't die. I won't allow it", Caretaker felt around, "do you feel any of this?"

"Feel what?", Whumpee sighed.

"Perfect", Caretaker smiled as they flipped a switch to the breathing mask.

Moments later Whumpee was out and prepped.

"Finally some quiet", Caretaker sighed.

Whumpee's eyes opened slowly.

"Mmm, is it done already?", Whumpee groaned.

"Already?", Leader leaned over and grinned, "you were out for a few hours."

"I was?", Whumpee slowly blinked.

"Yes, Caretaker stepped out for a breather", Leader frowned, "you know, we realized we don't know what your name is."

"Whumpee", they dared to look down, "how bad is it."

"Caretaker did a good job. They removed some of your underarm skin to replace some of the burnt skin. They will be able to focus on healing the rest of your skin as they heal this."

"Mmm", Whumpee moaned.

"You have some time to rest. It seems the war is going to be done soon. I will be taking you home with me after", Leader looked over Whumpee.

"As your prize? A pet? Look at my prisoner of war. Yes, I had them amputate", Whumpee mocked hatefully, "I would rather die."

"It won't be like that", Leader frowned, "you'll see what I mean."

Leader stepped away when Caretaker came back in.

Whumpee glanced around and found a scalpel.

Caretaker turned just in time to see Whumpee cut their wrist.

"I don't think so", Caretaker hurried, "I've had plenty of suicide attempts to deal with. Nice try."

Whumpee slowly blinked away tears as they watched Caretaker tie a tourniquet.

Leader hurried to help.

"They missed", Caretaker chuckled as they held gauze over the cut, "we won't have any of that. I didn't just spend the last few hours amputating you for you to do that. Am I clear?"

Caretaker set a tray on Whumpee's table and slid it closer to them.

Whumpee sighed and looked at it. They then glanced at the handcuffs that bound them to the bed.

"You have two options: you can let me feed you and get the blessings of eating utensils or you can feed yourself with one of my wooden tongue depressors", Caretaker held up the stick mockingly.

"I'm not going to try it again... I give up", Whumpee grumbled, "you won't let me die anyways. You seem to know how to stop anything I do."

"Well, I'm just that good", Caretaker grinned, "what will it be?"

"I-I can feed myself. Let me have some self respect", Whumpee sighed.

Caretaker adjusted the bed slightly.

Whumpee was finally able to see how much had been amputated.

"Th-that much had to go?", Whumpee whimpered.

"Uh, yes, it wasn't great. I had to take more than I even planned. I tried not to over do it. That's why this leg is slightly longer", Caretaker pointed then unlocked the shackles.

Whumpee wiped at their eyes.

"I... am... actually sorry that I had to remove that much... if that counts for anything", Caretaker handed them the wooden tool.

Whumpee sniffled as they nodded.

"Look on the brightside, the war is over now. You won't have to deal with me for very much longer. Leader is already setting up visits for you to see doctors near their home. You probably won't have to see me very often once this is all over", Caretaker grinned, "I might actually miss you."

"I doubt you will", Whumpee looked down, "I guess I do appreciate you taking care of me though."

"There, we can leave it at that. Not too much of enemies now", Caretaker watched Whumpee take a bite, "at least we will leave the battlefield a little but friendlier than we started."

Whumpee sniffled slightly before smiling weakly at Caretaker.

A year passed by.

Whumpee received expert medical care from Leader's most trusted doctors. They were able to finish what Caretaker started.

Whumpee was in full recovery now, just a little more therapy, the burns had healed. Only leaving nasty scarring.

Often, Whumpee covered their lap with a blanket that Caretaker had given them as a gift when the war was over. It was good for covering the scars and helping keep their legs warm or out of sunlight.

"Hey Whumpee", Leader stepped into Whumpee's room, "we are having a guest over for dinner, and to stay for a few nights. Please be on your best behavior."

"Why wouldn't I?", Whumpee frowned.

"You'll see", Leader winked.

Leader had adopted Whumpee as a member of the family, and was working on Whumpee's citizenship to finalize everything.

Whumpee climbed into their wheelchair and hurried to the lift elevator so they could get to the main floor.

In their haste they accidentally caught their wheel on some of the stair railing. Their wheelchair turned sharply and tumbled down a few steps with Whumpee along with it.

They took some large gasp of air before sitting up.

"I'm starting to think injuring yourself is just a habit", a familiar voice approached.

"Ca-Caretaker?", Whumpee looked up worriedly.

"That was quite a tumble", Leader came in, "I didn't see it, but it I heard you across the house."

Leader picked the chair up, and held it while Caretaker lifted Whumpee.

"Next time, the elevator... please", Leader mocked, "I'm aware the stairs are faster, but I installed the lift for a reason."

"I'll try my best", Whumpee giggled before turning to Caretaker, "I take it you're our special guest?"

"Yes", Caretaker nodded, "I had to come this way for work, I thought I'd stop in to see how well you healed and adjusted. Leader invited me to stay while I'm in town."

Whumpee looked up at Leader, then at Caretaker.

"Is that a problem?", Caretaker grinned.

"No, not at all. It's just been a while. I wasn't sure I would ever see you again", Whumpee grinned sheepishly, "I honestly have kind of missed you."

"I missed you too", Caretaker admitted, "how about after dinner, we spend some time together and talk."

"I'd like that", Whumpee nodded.

Leader grinned, "that works, I have to actually leave soon after dinner to meet someone. You both will have to excuse me tonight unfortunately."

Caretaker nodded, "as always, Leader always disappears and leaves me with the troublesome ones", they grinned and poked at Whumpee shoulder, "just like old times."

"I don't always", Leader pouted playfully.

Whumpee giggled lightly, "just like old times."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the taglist. It's not a problem at all.

@weirdthingweee @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

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@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

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@whatwhump @galatic-worm

@starmoon-constellation @bacillusinfection

[ouchie-central]

Whump Wheel Drabble #2: Missing

Thank you to @ofinkandstardust for the wheel and the inspiration!

CW: Amputee Character, (Magical Prosthetic) Non-Human Whumpee (Harpy) Cane use, Healing stitches, Cursing, Ignoring the severity of wounds, Loss of family.

Characters: Bixita “Bix” Meliaki, (he/him) Prince Tahir (he/him)

“They’re gone.”

Bix’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as soon as he set foot in his home. His siblings weren’t there, and as he frantically began looking around for any signs of them, it became more and more clear that they hadn’t been here for a long time.

The old silo had been abandoned when Bix found it standing alone at the edge of the city. All the grain long since picked clean by rats, and hardly anything but the roof, the floorboards and the door warranted calling it a home. But his siblings had been born in the nest he’d built into the silo’s catwalk. He’d told them stories of monsters and adventurers around the fire pit he’d dug into the ground. And the shelves lining the wall, built from nothing more than an abandoned cart Bix had run across on the road, still boasted the various knickknacks he’d acquired, found and stolen over the years.

But his siblings were nowhere to be seen. Everything was coated in layers of dust and cobwebs, and it was impossible to tell the last time the fire had been lit. Bix dropped his makeshift cane at the door and hobbled over to the nest on his leg that had barely healed, collapsing into it and sifting through the blankets, as if he’d find the three little harpies wrapped up in them.

But there was nothing.

Tahir, still frozen in the doorway, finally spoke. “Bix, I’m so sorry…”

“Shut up.” Bix snapped. He was clutching a blanket so hard it seemed like he was trying to strangle it. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This is my fault.” Bix swiped at the tears that were beginning to prick at the edges of his eyes and threw the blanket down, pushing himself up with great difficulty and dragging himself over to the stairs. Tahir picked up the other’s cane and shut the door behind him, following closely down the stairs.

“Bix, your stitches…”

“I don’t care!” He shouted, whipping around to give Tahir a piece of his mind. But his eyes were filled with tears. “My siblings are gone! I was supposed to protect them, I’m their big brother, and I was stupid enough to get arrested and leave them alone for three years! So my stitches, and my fucked-up leg, and my useless fucking wings don’t fucking matter because they’re probably-“ Bix froze, his eyes widening as the worst-case scenario fully dawned on him. And the grief that had been building up in his chest finally came out in wet, anguished sobs. His bad leg gave out, and with a split second to react, Tahir caught him and lowered him to the ground.

“Get the fuck off me!” Bix cried, pushing against the prince, who let go immediately. Tahir could only watch in sympathetic silence as Bix crumpled in on himself and cried, his sore wings only having enough mobility to partially wrap around himself in an attempt to hide. Eventually, he slowly uncrumpled and began to drag himself down the stairs, one step at a time. When he reached the bottom, he toppled over onto his side, his weak body still wracked with sobs.

The world seemed to stand still for a few moments. Bix’s world had crashed down around him, and Tahir didn’t know how to help. Eventually, the prince stood up and slowly walked down to the bottom floor of the house, setting the cane at the bottom of the steps but staying away from Bix as he’d requested. Instead, he wandered over to the shelves, observing the meager belongings of Bix’s family. An assortment of pots and pans, some folded-up fabric scraps and a basket full of sewing supplies, lots of pretty rocks, and a couple of toys: Some cobbled together, some that had once been nice but were now a bit past their prime. And between them all, there were some empty spaces, spots in the dust.

Some things were missing.

“Bix…?” Tahir asked cautiously from across the room. “What else used to be on this shelf?”

“What the hell are you talking about…?” Bix sniffled, his usual vulgarity having lost it’s edge. The harpy pushed himself off the ground, grabbing his cane and hauling himself to his one working foot to cross the room.

And as soon as his eyes finished scanning the shelves, he gasped.

“Their favorite toys are gone… And their bags, and my good cooking pot-!” Hope began to seep into Bix’s tone as a realization hit him. “They left…”

Tahir looked down at Bix, who was staring at the shelves in disbelief. “Do you know where they might have gone?”

Bix shook his head, trying to dry the tears that just kept coming. “No… But if they left then they’re out there. And I’m gonna find them.”

[weirdstrangeandawful]

Amputee whumpee forced to use a prosthetic.

[whumpsical]

(ty @figuwhump for the pose! 💕)

Jian is an insomnia baker <3 welcome to 3am floor cookies, sponsored by The Horrors

[lights-out-knives-out]

Realised that my Whumpee got boring again so to spice him up I’ve amputated his leg again and given him some white hair as a treat.

And here’s a lil wip of the reunion with his partner. Look at the absolute hack job on his leg, realised that this is a work of fiction and I am allowed to write my Whumper sawing off Whumpee’s leg in the kitchen without him dying, yayyyyy. And yes he’s also missing a finger, don’t know if I posted about that one yet

[zoethehead]

So, I had this dream; I'm not gonna get into too much specifics as it was full of gross stuff. But at one point, this guy loses an arm to an explosion and pretty much ends up being rendered unconscious (note; believe it or not, the person in my dream was actually Gordon, from the "half-life" franchise)

So, here's a guy with a cybernetic limb.

Made in fábrica de heróis

[faofinn]

No. 2 "I'll call out your name, but you won't call back."

@whumptober-archive

Thermometer | Delirium | "They don't care about you."

A 'recovery' fic set some time after this

Harrison had gone from strength to strength in his recovery. Even despite the sepsis and pneumonia, on top of the initial gsw and opened chest in the field.

It had been a long, hard slog to get there, though, that couldn't be forgotten. After the chest drain, he'd ended up with a little delirium from everything, and everyone dreaded that it was going backwards. Somehow, he kept progressing, kept improving, kept defying expectations. 

It was several months later when he was finally allowed from the bed, graduating to being allowed to potter between there and the sofas. He was on strict instructions to not treat anyone, to not do anything stupid and outside of his current abilities. He still had a babysitter, though they denied that that was why they were there. It was obvious, but he didn't really mind; he enjoyed the company and conversation. 

Harrison had lost so much weight with it all, far too much, and that brought its own problems. His prosthesis no longer fit properly, the bone rubbing against the hard plastic. It put him off walking with it, choosing instead to use his crutches where he could.

Fao didn’t mind ‘babysitting’ Hars. He was still getting over his own chest infection, easily tired, and so sitting around in the basement doing paperwork and making sure Hars had what he needed suited him just fine. Besides, he liked Harrison’s company, and it was still just so nice to have him ‘back’ after all they’d been through. 

The past few nights, Harrison had been struggling to sleep. He just couldn't settle with pain and just wrongness in his bones. He'd tried to shake it off, busying himself in the basement to try and keep his mind active. The room spun each time he stood, but after a few moments of gripping whatever counter he was closest to, everything returned to normal. It was just tiredness, that's all.

Fao noticed as Harrison emerged from his room, somewhat unsteady on his crutches. Not unusual, and Fao wished he’d use his chair instead, but he wasn’t about to start that fight again. 

“Hey. Need anything?” Fao asked. 

He took a moment to reply, looking blankly at Fao before he shook his head. "No, I'm good."

“You okay?” He asked, frowning. 

"Been better."

“Need something? Meds?”

"I want out of the basement."

“Want some fresh air?”

"Yeah. But I want to stay out."

“I can’t let you stay out.”

"You can't keep me here."

“You’re still not well, Hars.”

"I'm late, Fao. I don't have time to worry about not being well."

Fao frowned, standing up and putting his book down. “Late?”

"Yes, late. I'm trying to get ready."

“Late for what?”

Harrison turned to look at him, exasperated. "Work. Honestly, Fao. I don't get you."

“You don’t have to go to work, you’re off sick right now. You got hurt, remember?”

"I'm not stupid, I know I got hurt. I can fucking feel it."

“So you don’t need to go anywhere.”

"Yeah, I do." He turned back, swaying on his crutches. "I need to go."

“You don’t need to go to work, you can stay here. Why don’t we sit down, I’ll put the kettle on?”

"I don't want a drink. I want to go outside."

“Come on, it’s okay.”

"None of this is okay."

“I know, I know. But you don’t need to go out, you can stay here.”

He frowned. "I don't want to stay here."

“I know, but it’s for your own good.”

"It's obviously not."

“It is, Hars. I know it doesn’t feel like it.

"Where's Tai? He'll tell you."

“He’s at work today, he’ll be home soon.”

Harrison frowned at him. "Well where's Levi?"

“Your dad is with him.”

"He's my son."

“Nobody is saying otherwise.”

He huffed. "Right. Okay."

“I mean it, Hars.”

"Mean what?"

“Nobody’s saying otherwise about Levi.”

"Right. So I need to go."

“No, you don’t.”

"Whatever." He turned away, bored of the conversation and ready to do his own thing. 

The turn made him dizzy, but he figured it would go, it had to. He stumbled forward, managing a few steps before his crutch slipped slightly. He struggled to right himself, but the dizziness was only getting worse, the room darkening at the corners. 

Nausea rose too, only adding to the feeling that he was dying, but he didn't have the energy to do anything about it. His leg shook and he knew his knee wouldn't hold him, but the thought was quickly lost to the blackness.

“Hars? Harrison?” He called.

Fao spotted the way Harrison went blank, the stumble just another warning sign. He crossed the room quickly, aiming to help Harrison stay upright on his crutches, but his eyes rolled and he went down. He reached for him just as he went, stretching further than he should, and he staggered under the weight of him as they went to the floor. It was softer than it had been if he’d not caught him, but it wrenched Fao’s bad shoulder and he groaned, the pain already bad. 

Harrison was still in Fao's arms, his chest rise and fall all too shallow. It took a few moments for him to start to come to, screwing his face up. 

“Hey, you’re okay.” Fao said, running his fingers through Harrison’s hair. “Take a moment.”

He groaned, trying to get his bearings. He reached to rub his eyes, his head pounding. 

“You’re alright. You fainted.”

"Head hurts."

“Headache? You didn’t hit the floor.”

"I'm on the floor."

“I caught you, you fainted.”

"Oh. Okay."

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

[caffeinatedcursedcutie]

Roger scowled deeply down at the edge of the sink below him, a pair of silver nail trimmers seemed to mock him, reflecting glimpses of his skin color back up. He had chucked them into the sink in a fit of anger. Anger seemed to be the only emotion he was capable of nowadays, he was quite ashamed to say that nasty, cutting words were constantly aimed at nurses, since he had gotten home, flinging objects across the room was a constant interruption. He was given some pardon by…everyone around him. Afterall, who wouldn’t feel rage at losing an arm? 

He glanced up to the mirror, stark white bandages over his nub of a left arm, naked torso a stark contrast to it. It wasn’t even that arm that was the cause of his anger, it was his right hand. Every time he tried to pluck at his clothes, or slide under the covers at night, his jagged nails were catching the fabric threads. They were too long, and he couldn’t use his own goddamn nail trimmers in his own goddamn bathroom because he only had one fucking arm.

He jerked when he heard the door clicking open next time him, Riley’s concerned face peeking in through the crack. 

“Hey.” She said, and thank god it wasn’t in that overly concerned, mothering hen voice everyone seemed to put on when he walked into the room. “I’m thinking about going to the liquor store, you want a six pack or something to get you real fucked up?” He’s not even sure why that made him laugh, a weirdly watery wheeze of air. It felt normal, talking to her, and even her having to move in to take care of him didn’t feel so bad. He suddenly became aware of tears rolling down his face, but she didn’t even acknowledge it. 

“So, beer or Fireball?” 

“Actually…” 

She didn’t press, didn’t ask what he wanted as he took a breath. He reached into the sink and picked up the nail clippers, shoving them into her hands. Her fingers tightened around the tool as his hand dropped away.

Not a word was said as she snipped away white crescents of nail tips, the pieces flying out from under the metal and being forgotten on the floor. 

“Uh-uh.”She muttered when he tried to pull his hand away, thinking they were done. He was slightly confused as she reached back to the sink, yanking open a drawer. A nail file he didn’t even know he had was drawn out, and she maneuvered his hand so she could see how much she filed away. 

He felt cleaner when she was done, as odd as it was to say. Smooth edges, nothing snagging as he rubbed his thumb nail to his index finger to check it. 

“So.” Riley said, tossing the tools back into a drawer. “Beer or fireball?”

[yet-another-heathen]

This is a FANTASTIC resource! Thank you so much, OP, you've just answered so many of the questions that late-night delves into Reddit and medical forums couldn't.

Writing amputees: Phantom limb sensation/Phantom Limb pain

This was something I got asked about a lot whenever I made videos about amputee representation, so let's talk about Phantom Limb Sensation (PLS) and Phantom Limb Pain (PLP).

TW: Description of surgical amputation process. section with this content can be skipped and the start/end will be clearly marked.

What is it and what causes it?

Phantom Limb Sensation is when you can feel a limb, even after it's been amputated. This phantom limb is a VERY common side effect of amputation, one that almost every amputee experiences at some point. Depending on how the limb was amputated, how old the person was at the time and the condition of the limb before amputation, it can last for as little as a year to being a life-long condition.

it's caused by the part of your brain responsible for proprioception - the sense of where your body is in space. Your brain has an internal map of your body and specifically your nervous system, and it uses this to determine where certain body parts are in space, even without input from your 5 main senses, meaning you don't need to look to know where, say, your leg or hand is (usually, though other disabilities like autism and ADHD can affect this and make it less accurate). Usually, the brain senses where your body parts are using a combination of this map and input from nerves. But if something happens to your body part, that internal map can have a lot of trouble updating, and when the internal map and the nerve inputs don't match, it can cause your brain to panic and fill in the gaps from the missing input signals, creating the sensation that a lost body part, usually a limb, is still there. For some, the limb light be locked in place, other might have the sensation of the limb "growing back" (though as I understand it, this typically only happens to very young children) and others feel as though the limb is perfectly fine and moving along with the rest of the body normally.

This sensation isn't unique to people who have lost limbs mind you: some trans people who have had top or bottom surgery, people who've had mastectomies, and even people who have had growths or tumours removed often report a similar sensation of their removed parts still being present, though it's not usually as intense and fades after a few months to a few years on its own with minimal intervention, leading to it being categorized as a separate phenomenon to Phantom Limbs in these cases.

Phantom Limb Pain is an extension of phantom limb sensation, caused by the body's more extreme reaction to the same phenomenon. The exact reason why it occurs isn't known, but in many people, instead of feeling a persistent pressance of a limb that's no longer there, they will feel discomfort or pain radiating from the lost limb. For some people, it might be an itch on the phantom limb they can't scratch, for others, the pain can feel like intense "pins and needles" all over the lost limb, others feel an electric "zap" running through the non-existent nerves, live they've grabbed a low-voltage electic fence, some people feel a dull, pounding pain, like the lost limb is being crushed or pushed into positions it shouldn't be able to go into (e.g. someone who had their knee amputated might feel the joint bending in the wrong direction). Some people experience all of these, some only experience one. Everyone will be different.

How is it treated?

Like with many things in life, prevention is better than a cure. certain measures can be taken to lessen the intensity of PLP and PLS before it can even start.

Gore TW: description of the process of surgical amputations, skip to the "----" divider to avoid.

People who have had amputations in the last 10 years will go through a slightly different procedure than those who had amputations before then. Historically, the limb would be amputated by cutting directly through the limb and either sewn shut or by having a skin graft where tissue is used to create a "cap" at the end of the stump. These methods worked, but left nothing for the nerves to connect to once everything was healed, leading the brain to think the reason for the lack of signal from the limb is that the limb was simply broken. Not only can this cause added intensity to the nerve pain, and increase the risk of something called a neuroma, where the nerves attempt to mend the "break" and continue to grow until they hit the surface of the skin, causing them to bundle up and get tangled, creating a feed back loop and amplifying any signal from the area to unbearable levels (including phantom sensations).

Today though, when conditions allow, amputations are done by cutting through the limb as before, then once the skin layers are reached on the other side, surgeons cut downward, creating a long tab of skin which is pulled over the bottom of the stump and reattached to the front. This allows the major nerve pathways in the limb to connect with each other during the healing process, creating a loop in the nerves and tricking the brain into thinking it's still receiving signals from the amputated limb.

Those who had their amputations prior to this change in the procedure can have a similar operation done to achieve a similar effect, though in both cases, it doesn't always work and can lead to the brain producing very very strange phantom limb sensations. In my personal case, it creates a sensation that I can feel my own skin in the region as though it was something separate from the rest of the body, almost like I'm wearing a sock. Very odd, and honestly kind of cursed lol.

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If prevention isn't an option though, different treatments exist.

One popular method is through compression. what's left of the amputated limb (called the stump) will be either wrapped in very strong compression bandages or the person can wear a fitted compression sock on the stump. This is usually done for the first 6-12 weeks after the amputation, though it can be done for longer under the supervision of a rehab specialist in some circumstances. After 6 weeks, 6-12 weeks, the stump will have healed enough for a prosthetic to be fitted. After this point, the person is encouraged to wear the prosthetic or at least the liner, usually made from silicone in modern prosthetics instead of a compression sock/bandage. The liners of the prosthetic offer milder compression, as does the socket of the prosthetic itself, and the "snug" feeling can, for some, make the phantom pain more bearable and the phantom sensation less frequent (though some people experience the opposite and will have increased PLP/PLS while adjusting to the prosthetic, though it usually subsides eventually).

For leg amputees specifically, they are encouraged to walk on their new prosthetics as much as possible, as the action of walking with the prosthetic will often trigger the phantom limb to start moving in time with the rest of the leg, and the sensation of walking can essentially trick the brain into using the phantom limb sensation to help the person walk more naturally and feel less unstable.

Another treatment is called Mirror Therapy, though this only works for single-limb amputees or arm and leg amputees who's amputations were on the same side (e.g. both left leg and left arm). The person puts their full remaining limb in front of a mirror and their amputated limb behind the mirror, then angles themselves so it appears that their full limb being reflected in the mirror is replacing the lost limb. If the person is experiencing an itch on their lost limb, they can scratch the full one, and look into the mirror. Eventually, your brain will feel the scratching sensation on the phantom limb instead.

If none of these options work, nerve pain medications such as gabapentin can be prescribed, though this is usually a last resort as these medications can have serious side effects and can prevent people from being able to do certain jobs or even drive depending on the dosage. As an absolute last resort, an injection can be given to the person to numb the stump. This does not stop the pain completely, but it does subdue it, though many doctors warn against this as it often means the person will not be able to feel if their stump is injured and can result in infected, untreated wounds.

Unfortunately, there is no "cure" yet, and many amputees just learn to live with PLP and PLS.

What things make you more or less likely to experience PLP/PLS?

There are some things that can make you more or less likely to experience PLP and PLS, and that can effect how intensely you experience them.

Your age when you lost the limb

People who are born without the limb almost never experience PLP and PLS, as their brain's internal map already knows the limb isn't there. Likewise, children who lost their limb very early in life don't usually experience PLS very intensely, or for very long, and are less likely to experience PLP at all. This is because when you are young, your brain is already updating that internal map because you're growing, so it has an easier time understanding the fact the limb isn't there anymore. Young brains are also constantly changing and growing, making them more adaptable in general to acquiring major disabilities. On the flip-side someone who lost their limb late in life is more likely to experience PLP and PLS for the rest of their lives. It can be managed, but it will likely always be pressant. Thier brains have not really needed to make any major updates to that map, often for decades, and are not really built to be able to do that, meaning PLP and PLS will likely take longer to go away, if they ever go away at all.

How you lost it and the condition of the limb before it was amputated.

If you lost your limb due to trauma, meaning events like accidents or major injury, the phantom sensation you experience will likely be much more painful, and could even feel like the injury or accident is happening over and over again. For example, someone who lost their arm to a shark attack might feel the sensation of the shark's teeth biting into it as well as the sensations described in the first section.

Alternatively, someone who had their limb amputated due to a pre-existing condition might continue to feel that condition even after the limb is gone. As a personal example, I've had multiple amputations throughout my life, but my most recent was due to a bone infection that formed at the bottom of my stump from a previous amputation. Now, when I experience phantom limb sensation, I can still feel where the infection reached the surface (where the nerves began to feel something was wrong). I had that leg amputated through the ankle as a young child, and when it was re-amputated higher up due to the infection, I didn't feel the whole leg, just the pre-existing stump.

Post Amputation Care

If a person does not receive proper medical care immediately after an amputation, their phantom sensation and pain will be significantly worse. My great Grandfather for example, lost part of his hand during WW2, but due to the situation, was not able to receive adequate medical care once he was established due to the medics being preoccupied with the actively dying. As a result of this and the traumatic nature of how he lost it in the first place, he experienced very intense phantom pain for the majority of his life. This is also important to keep in mind if your story takes place before the modern age, as it wasn't really understood how important post-amputation care was until recently, and many folks were left to just figure it out themselves.

Time

As with all things, phantom pain and phantom sensation fade with time. They may not ever go away entirely, but they do fade in intensity at least a little. This is especially important to keep in mind for characters with beyond-human lifespans. Your elderly grandmother character might not live long enough for their phantom pain to fade entirely, but your immortal vampire who's been alive for a millennia and lost their arm when they were human probably will.

Closing things to keep in mind

Wow, that was longer than I was expecting but I hope you found this all helpful. One last thing to keep in mind is that oftentimes, amputees who do experience PLS/PLP get pretty good at managing it, so you don't have to worry about it too much unless the amputation happens during the story itself or you want to make it a focus, this is just an explanation of what you can include if you like. Personally, though, I feel like it's an aspect of being an amputee that a lot of media rep overlooks, so it would be nice to see some more representation at least mention it. It doesn't have to be constant, but some brief comments or something of the like will go a long way.

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumptober Day 30

Recovery - Hospital Bed - Holding Back Tears - "What have I done?"

Warning amputation... quadruple amputation.

Quiet moans left Whumpee's lips as Caretaker adjusted them to a sitting position and tucked pillows around them to keep them sitting up.

"How are you feeling this morning?", Caretaker sat down in a chair next to the bed, "did you sleep well?"

"S-still sore from the procedures", Whumpee whispered, "I still feel them", Whumpee's eyes began to water.

Caretaker reached for a tissue, and dotted at Whumpee's eyes.

"I know" Caretaker sighed, they looked down at what was left of Whumpee's arms and legs. They had been removed by a madman with a power saw. After their rescue, doctors had to go in and correct the amputated limbs, making the stubs even shorter.

"Is it okay if I apply the medicine ointment now for you?", Caretaker smiled weakly, "I know those phantom pains are horrible. Would a little massage help you?"

Whumpee shook as they tried not to cry, they nodded to let Caretaker start.

"Here take a drink first my dear", Caretaker reached for a cup and placed the straw to Whumpee's lips.

Whumpee took small sips, they felt their was a knot in their throat.

Caretaker set the cup down and cupped Whumpee's cheek.

"You don't have to hold back tears in front of me.... you know that right? You have every right to cry, scream, and be angry. What that person did to you... what they took from you... I understand. You are uncomfortable and trying to be brave, but you don't have to do that, not any more."

Whumpee huffed a few times, trying to contain themself. They looked down over themself. Their missing arms and legs. Just stumps.

"Wh... why did this happen... who does this to someone?", Whumpee whispered, "please Caretaker. Help me understand?"

Caretaker looked over them, "I know you are use to me being the fix all the problems person. I unfortunately don't think I can fix this with just talking, and I don't think I have the words that can even start explaining how sorry I am that this happened to you. The guilt I feel that I wasn't their to protect you. I'm so sorry."

Whumpee sniffled a little.

"Can I, can I have a hug", Whumpee whispered.

"Yes you can absolutely have a hug", Caretaker stood from their chair and leaned over the bed, "you know you can always have hugs."

Caretaker lifted Whumpee up and pulled them close.

"I'm here for you. I will help you to the best of my abilities", Caretaker cuddled Whumpee, "I promise you."

Whumpee nodded. They buried their face into Caretaker's shoulder and started to cry.

Caretaker gently ran their hand up and down Whumpee's back.

After a few minutes Whumpee looked up.

"H-how am I supposed to live like this. The doctors already said prosthetics wouldn't work for me. I can't even correctly ride in the car."

Caretaker nodded, "well, in a few days, we will receive a harness seatbelt. This will be able to be installed into any cars you ride in. It will keep you safe", Caretaker started to lay Whumpee back down, "for everything you can't do... you have me to help you. Oh, and you will get a few nurses to help you as well. You'll have one every other day."

Caretaker started to massage the ointment on, "after this and breakfast, what would you like to do? We have some free time today."

"I don't know", Whumpee watched them, "I don't have a lot of energy right now."

"Well I get that. We can have a low energy day if you like. How about we find a series to watch. I'll order some snacks and drinks; we can cuddle if you like", Caretaker smiled.

"I don't know if I can stay awake long enough to watch movies", Whumpee started to get upset again.

Caretaker looked at them with concern, "hey", they whispered.

"I'm sorry", Whumpee sobbed, "I don't... I don't mean to be mean, but..."

"Whumpee you don't have to feel bad or anything. If you are not feeling up to it, that's fine. I'm just talking out loud for if you wanted to do something", Caretaker smiled, "we don't have to do anything at all if you don't want to. I will quite literally sit beside you all day and keep you company or climb in that hospital bed to cuddle with you if you want me to. Anything you want."

Whumpee sniffled a little, causing Caretaker to grab another tissue.

"Cuddles would be nice", Whumpee hiccuped from crying.

"Yeah, we can cuddle. I'll get breakfast in you, then you can pick where we will cuddle", Caretaker smiled, "do you want me to read to you?"

"No", Whumpee looked down, "can we just talk? Like we use to."

"Yes absolutely", Caretaker nodded.

Caretaker laid Whumpee into their bed. Then climbed in with them.

"Alright scoochie, scooch", Caretaker joked as they squeezed in. Whumpee's bed had guard rails on the side so they wouldn't roll out. This made their bed a little snug.

They laid on their side and hugged Whumpee close to them.

One hand wrapped around Whumpee in a hug. Caretaker played with Whumpee's hair with their other hand.

"What do you want to talk about?", Caretaker smiled, they leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to Whumpee's forehead, "I'm all ears."

"Anything except for the amputation", Whumpee sighed, "but I might warn you. I may fall asleep."

"That's fine", Caretaker chuckled, "you need your rest. I may fall asleep as well. We can have a sleep day today."

Caretaker thought for a few moments.

"Ah, I know. That writer you like.. they are coming out with a new book, and I've already pre-ordered it for us", Caretaker smiled, "while you were resting in the hospital I went ahead and read the series as quickly as I could to get an idea of what was going on. I am completely caught up, and I understand why you enjoy the series."

Whumpee's eyes twinkled, "you did?"

"Yes we still have a month or so until it ships to us, but we can read it together if you like" Caretaker smiled, "or if you want, I'll help flip the pages for you while you read. I'll read it after you're done. Whichever you want."

"That would be fun to read it together", Whumpee smiled.

Caretaker grinned, that was the first smile since the accident.

Caretaker watched as Whumpee's eyes closed and opened again.

"I think you are getting tired", Caretaker sat up for a blanket.

"I think so to", Whumpee smiled weakly as Caretaker pulled the blanket up and covered them both.

"I think I am too", Caretaker yawned back, "do you want your bed back, or do you want me to stay here?"

"Please, will you stay with me", Whumpee pleaded.

"Yes of course I will" Caretaker went back to playing with Whumpee's hair, "I'll stay right here for as long as you need me to... I promise."

Whumpee nodded.

Caretaker left another gentle kiss on Whumpee's forehead when they finally fell asleep.

'I'm so sorry', Caretaker thought to themself as they cupped Whumpee's cheek, 'you have been through something I would never wish on anyone. You are being so brave, but I know you Whumpee. You are so scared. Even a little ashamed. You are always so self-conscious.'

Caretaker lovingly watched them sleep.

"I love you so much", Caretaker whispered, causing Whumpee sleepily smile.

Caretaker leaned up one last time to kiss Whumpee's forehead.

"I promise... everything is alright."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @ragin-cajun-fangirl

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @mylifeisonthebookshelf

@thenormalestever @whatwhump

@galatic-worm

[hilsonficrecs]

Hilson Fic Trope Masterlist

The mobile-friendly version of the Tag Library

A non-exhaustive list featuring various tropes/themes in Hilson fanfics

Tags now have their own Masterlist Post (since we reached the limit for number of links in a Tumblr post and had to split the masterlist up)

Relationship Tropes

Bets & Wagers

Cheating/Infidelity

Domestic Fluff

Ducklings Find Out

Fake Dating/Fake Marriage

Father-Duckling Relationship

Hallucinations

Hijinks & Shenanigans

Jealous Partner

Kid Fic

Oblivious Ducklings

Outsider POV

Pranks/Prank Wars

Roommates

Secret Relationship

Sharing a Bed

Sickfic

Soulmates

Team Building Activities

Therapy

Unresolved Sexual Tension (UST)

Whump

Withdrawal

Relationship Status

Anniversary

Breaking Up

Developing Relationship

Divorce

Engaged/Fiances

Established Relationship

Getting Together

Marriage

Marriage Proposal

Pre-Relationship

Unrequited Love

Wedding

Timeline

Infarction-Related

OG Ducklings Era

Ducklings 2.0 Era

Wilson Lives

Episode-Specific

Broad/Vague

Genres

5+1

Angst

Angst with a Happy Ending

Fluff

Hurt/Comfort

Hurt/No Comfort

Mutual Pining

Slow Burn

Hilson Characteristics (One or Both)

Amputee!House

Aspec!Hilson

Autistic!Hilson

Bi!Hilson

Gay!Hilson

Genderbend!Hilson

Internalized Homophobia

Jealous!Hilson

Possessive!Hilson

Protective!Hilson

Touch Starved!Hilson

Trans!Hilson

Settings/AUs

Different Hospital AU

Sex Tropes/Kinks

(I'm outsourcing this category, so if you have a common one or one you wanna see, let me know and I'll add it!)

Daddy Wilson

Dom/Sub

Drunk Sex

First Time

Masochistic House

Omegaverse

Pet Play

Sadistic Wilson

T4T

Watersports

Side Pairings

Amber/House/Wilson

Amber/Thirteen

Amber/Wilson

Cameron/Chase

Cameron/Chase/Foreman

Cameron/Cuddy

Chase/Foreman

Cuddy/House

Cuddy/House/Wilson

Cuddy/Stacy

Cuddy/Thirteen

Cuddy/Wilson

Foreman/Thirteen

This post is a work in progress: Links to compilation posts with fic recs coming soon!

Are we missing any big Hilson tropes? Let us know!

[mewos-laptop]

Friendly reminder that disabilities and mental illnesses aren't just for angst factor. There are those of us in real life who genuinely suffer from frequent panic attacks, and it's not just a whump trope for your fanfic to make someone have hypersomnia or be an amputee or whatever

We're not just tropes, and our experiences shouldn't just be for your angsty story, it should actively affect your character in ways other than just the scene they're suffering in

[whumptober]

I'm not trying to start trouble, but I'd argue that amputation isn't great for body horror, because that's an actually really common real life thing. Like that's just someone's body, a LOT of someones' bodies, and someone with that body will probably see that. I'm not an amputee, but I do have other things that media and writers like to sensationalize and make into horror, and it just isn't fun to see your actual real life normal body be called body horror. I just wanted to say something bc the whump community can be really not great about real life injuries and conditions like that and it's not responsible to encourage blatant ableism.

I'm sorry, that was my mistake. I write HTP, which is often tagged body horror. I was also thinking of it as portrayed in horror films like the Saw franchise.

But of course you're absolutely right and there's nothing inherently horrifying about amputation, limb differences or disfigurations. I apologize for causing offense; I really should have thought that through more before I answered.

[steviewashere]

In it For the Long Haul (And Then Some)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Minor Internalized Ableism Tags: Post Canon, Post Season Four, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Medical Conditions, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma (Brief Mention), Amputee Steve Harrington, Amputee Eddie Munson, Disabled Steve Harrington, Disabled Eddie Munson, Whump, Implied/Referenced Depression, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve's Injuries Actually Have an Effect On Him, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names, Medical Accuracies (Surprising, I Know), Tattoos, Implied/Referenced Sex, Getting Together

Guys, oh my god, my Apple keyboard has prosthetic emojis?! That's so cool.

🦾🦿—————🦾🦿 He thought it’d be another concussion that would put him out this time. It’s practically the stamp of approval left on his body by the Upside Down. Should be bright green and sticky on his forehead and in big bold letters for everybody to read. But it isn’t a concussion. And he’s not sure what to do with himself.

Maybe they should’ve taken him to the hospital to get medical treatment after the bat bites. It wasn’t just on his back and arms and stomach. The marks were on his legs, too. Even though he had tried to kick the demobats off, they still sunk their teeth in when they had the chance, albeit briefly. Considering, too, he also walked through that hellhole without shoes on. He should’ve seen a doctor. First thing, he should’ve seen a doctor. But he didn’t. And he had the infection to show for it. Except, his body hadn’t healed the way it was supposed to. His immune system didn’t cooperate. It didn’t keep up.

The infection spread through the muscle of his left foot. And when it didn’t go away fast enough, it worked its way through his toes, shot up his ankle, and into his calf. Right below the knee.

His pinkie and ring toes went first. They—and he wishes he could spare the gruesome details—turned purple and swollen and numb. That’s when he knew things would be different. As soon as those parts were gone, he had begun to turn his face away from the window of hope. Instead, he looked out at the deep ocean waves of regret and grief, and imagined himself as a sinking ship. Filling with water. Plummeting to the bottom. Rotting.

Robin and the kids would all come around. Flood into his room. Talk to him while he was delirious from anesthesia first, then morphine next. Spoke to him when he hissed through phantom pains. Looked away when he had to be wheeled into the all too spacious hospital bathroom. “Tug the red chord if you get stuck,” he recalls a nurse saying. “Don’t put pressure on this foot, it’s still draining,” another had said. And by the time he could stay out of the wheelchair, he forgot what it was like to pee without the reminders, what it was like to go to the bathroom and be able to stand on his own.

Because of his luck, though, he lost the whole foot next. The infection had worked its way into his tibia. Didn’t fall asleep willingly after he was taken off of medication. Just sat in his cramped hospital bed, staring down at the stump of where part of him once was, and wept. Hands curled over his thighs, nails digging into his flesh, lips tight against his teeth, unblinking and weeping softly into the silence of his room. The first night without morphine and without the foot, he sat in the dark. In the black ink of his room. Choking on himself. Uncaring towards his limp and greasy hair dangling in front of his eyes. And he didn’t sleep. Didn’t want to. Couldn’t take the glare off his absent foot.

He stopped flexing the other foot, stopped running it against his left leg when he did try to sleep, stopped wanting to use it all together.

It wasn’t until the calf was removed completely, leaving him with half a leg and just his knee, did he stop talking. He just sat in the bustling white noise silence of his room. Wide eyes that were dry and red and bloodshot staring down at the thin cloth blanket draped over himself. An even thinner hospital gown stuck to his sallow skin. Stomach rumbling with hunger, but he couldn’t eat in the presence of himself. He just sat and thought of blankness, of absence, and of loss.

He’s been in the hospital nearly a month—endless surgeries and endless bouts of infections—when Eddie finally visits. Steve barely glances at him. Notices his silhouette and odd gait and the hiding of his right arm, but nothing more. Goes back to his lap with a raw emptiness, gaping and pulsing the more and more he sits in this room. Still recovering. Not even at the point of physical therapy yet. Still trying to heal his, how he views it, now useless body.

Eddie sits down in the chair to his left. Grunting with the exertion. He releases a measured, deep breath. “I heard from Robin that you were up here,” he states conversationally. “Thought I’d come up and see you now that I’m not stuck in my own room.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. Just traces his thumbs over the hem of his blanket. He thought he’d be angrier at the mention of Eddie being discharged. Filled to the brim with bitter jealousy. But all that tinges in his chest is a beastly want. An ache. The sizzle of something dwindling out.

“Haven’t had the chance to thank you, Steve,” Eddie murmurs. “I thought I’d die down there. Figured it was the best option, y’know, considering my circumstances? But then you and Dustin did the whole tourniquet thing and risked your lives and welcomed me in like a friend. So, my mind’s been changed. Hate this town and how it hates me, but I’m glad to still be here with some of the best people I’ve met,” he says sincerely. “But—I, uh—I wanted to come keep you company, as a friend. Show you something, too.”

At that, Steve raises his eyes slightly. Enough to catch on where Eddie’s knees are pressed firmly against the side of his bed. Angled oddly to stretch out and wiggle his right arm in sight of Steve’s vision. That’s when his eyes catch on the limp sleeve of the flannel he’s wearing. How it just flattens to the bed, red and black, lifeless.

The sleeve rolls up to reveal the stump of Eddie’s arm. His hand, wrist, and half of his forearm completely gone.

“We match,” Eddie says. And it should be grim. It should be a devastating statement to make. But something in Steve starts to warm. A desperation sort of growth, one that comes from the want and need to be seen. Eddie continues, “And—Look, I know it’s not ideal. It really isn’t. If anything, this is like majorly fucked up for the both of us. But…We’ll figure it out, you know? Get prosthetics. Cut up our clothes to accommodate our limbs, or well, lack of. But you aren’t alone; that’s my point.”

Hesitantly, Steve raises his head. Finally looking at Eddie in his entirety. The palm sized scar on his cheek, pink and shiny and stark against his face. The ring around his neck and the other red raw scars that creep into the collar of his t-shirt. And his hair. It’s gone. Shaved down. Replaced by a bit of fuzz and one long scar that goes from the widow’s peak of his hairline, to where it tapers at his neck. Steve doesn't remember Eddie getting injured there, but it must've been from when he fell through the portal—limp and loose.

He realizes, looking down at himself, that there are swirls of scars from the back of his own arms, deep white lines on his knuckles, the ring around his neck surely present, and that doesn’t even include the ones that ache on his back. He looks back to Eddie.

Eddie reaches out a slow hand, cupping his cheek, wiping at something. That’s when Steve realizes that he’s crying. “Hey, oh, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry, Stevie. I didn’t think that—“

“You get it?” Steve squeak-rasps. His throat throbs. It's dry and brittle and painful all the way through him; down to his stomach, into his sweaty palms, at the base of his stump. Phantom stings that make him twitch. But his voice...It's nothing like him. It's haunting to hear himself. And for a moment, he wishes he didn't speak. Eddie, however, startles and softens all at once. Eyes glistening at Steve, worried and concerned and cautious, but also enamored and welcoming and empathetic.

Nodding, Eddie says, “Yeah, sweetheart, I do. I’m still getting used to it, too.” He pushes up into Steve’s messy hair, swiping it away from his forehead. Doesn’t even grimace at how gross it surely feels on his fingers. “You don’t have to sit alone about this. ‘Cause I’m right here with you. And…” His eyes grow immeasurably softer. “…I may not have both hands, but I’ve got both arms to hold you," he breathes.

It’s easy to lean into Eddie’s hand. To close his eyes and let himself feel this. Sobbing quietly, muffled behind his lips. Shoulders shaking with it. He blubbers, “I hate this, Eddie. I hate this, I hate this, I—“ And cuts himself off with a loud, unashamed, explosive sob.

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie is saying as he wraps himself around Steve. Tucks himself in close, to where Steve is able to set his head on his shoulder. He sits on the edge of the bed so that he doesn’t overcrowd. And just holds on tight. “You feel how you need to feel, Steve. Get it out, it’s okay.”

Steve groans harshly in the back of his throat. Gasping in short breaths, chest rattling with the effort. He slams his forehead into Eddie’s chest, over and over. Muffling into the fabric of his shirt, “Nobody else gets it. They don’t understand. They don’t…All of them.” Eddie doesn’t speak. Afraid that Steve will stop if he does. “They think I’ll just bounce back, but everything is different now, Eds,” he cries, “Everything.”

And he finds that he does mean that. He knows he's too quiet. Knows he's behaving too serious for his bones. Too mature for his lungs. He's hollow to his core, and bleeding between his teeth. There's something deeply fractured in him now, even if he were to ever show a sliver of who he was before.

He allows himself to cry for a few minutes more before slumping with exhaustion, but he doesn’t close his eyes. Doesn’t let sleep pull him under. Just shakes and shivers and twitches in Eddie’s warm hold. Until, Eddie pulls back. Arms set firmly on Steve’s shoulders. Eyes wandering his face, his hair. “You look so tired, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “When’s the last time you’ve slept?” Steve shrugs in lieu of a response. Eddie's eyebrows twitch down, a frown wanting to form, but he worms it away. Offering with a well-crafted small smile, “How about you sleep and I keep watch for you?”

He shakes his head. “They’ll take more of me if I close my eyes. They keep doing it,” Steve mutters. His voice is weak and slightly petulant.

“What do you mean, Stevie?” And Eddie's face drops again. Frowning through the floor.

“They come in here and tell me the infection spread. Tell me about how it goes bone deep. Or how my limbs are turning purple. Or how something doesn’t look good,” Steve rambles on, “Then, they have to take me back for surgery. And I have to let them because I get it, I do, because my body isn’t healing right. And it's not something I'll just make up for at home, so I let them. I let them and then...I wake back up and more of my leg is gone. I can’t let them take more from me. I can’t lose more of myself. I can’t, Eddie, I can’t—I can’t—I can’t—“

Softly, Eddie shushes him. Rubbing his remaining hand up and down Steve’s arm in long stripes, carefully avoiding his still agitated scars. “Shhh, baby, you’re okay. It’s scary, I know. But they said that you’re doing better. Treatment is working, Steve. You won’t lose anything else, okay?” His eyes are wide and imploring. Deep brown, enriching, swallowing Steve whole. “You won’t. This is it. They just need you to rest. I’ll be right here while you do so; I won’t let them do anything to you that you wouldn’t want. But you need sleep. You’re wasting away on me.” His hands push firmer on Steve's shoulders. Imploring again, searching and hoping for Steve to understand. He reiterates, “You’re wasting away.”

“I’m not,” Steve weakly argues.

“You are,” Eddie whispers, “You look like you haven’t slept in days, Stevie. And the doctors already told me how you’ve been refusing to eat. That’s not good. You gotta rest and get healthy, to a place they need you to be, so that you can go home.” Steve doesn't like that idea. Back to his big, almost always empty house. Eddie must read that, somewhere, on his face. He gently splays his hand over Steve’s chest, shoving at it with light force. Promising low, "Home can be with Robin or Nancy or me, Stevie. But you have to get better first. You have to. Just lay down and talk to me, sweetheart."

Hesitantly, Steve lays down with Eddie’s push. Head lolled on the pillow so that his face is pointed towards where Eddie sits. He stretches out his hand and weakly grips to Eddie’s fingers. “I’m scared,” he finally confesses. The words falling heavy from the tip of his tongue.

And though Eddie knows, Steve can see it in his eyes, he asks anyway, “What’s got you spooked?”

Steve blinks groggily. Wrung out from the tears. From the sobbing. The speaking. From existing the way he has been. “Of not being myself,” he answers, muttering. “I can’t drive now. I can’t work out the way I used to. Can’t even stand to use the bathroom. I’m not losing more of my limbs, but it’s like I’m gone.”

Eddie’s thumb pushes firmly into the back of Steve’s hand. And he looks straight on at Steve’s tired, tired, tired eyes. “I ain’t letting you go,” he swears. “We’ll find what works. We’ll find you again, I promise. Especially now that we have all the time in the world.”

“It’s going to take so long, though. You don’t want to be stuck with me during that.”

Simply, Eddie shrugs. “So, what? I’ll be figuring out myself again, too. And from what I’ve heard, you’re the kind of guy to take no shit. If anything, you’re going to be the one stuck with me.” His voice grows lower and lower as Steve’s eyes dip to a near close. “Go ahead and sleep, Steve. It’s okay.”

With a long, grieving sigh, Steve closes his eyes completely. Mumbles, “You’re a good guy, Eddie.” Voice slow and sticky. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

As Steve’s grumbling snores fill the room, Eddie stands to lightly open the curtains. Soft sunlight pooling through the room. It makes Steve glow in yellows, his hair shiny and his skin glistening. He’s worse for wear, that much is evident to Eddie. But he can work with that. He’ll accommodate all that Steve is willing to give. And he’ll keep an eye and an ear out, too. Even if that’s all he’s allowed to offer.

He sits back in his original chair. Stretching himself so that he can lean over Steve's bed. And swipes the stray hair away from his eyes. “I’m glad you’re my friend, too, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs into the white noise of the room. He stays until visiting hours are over.

And comes back every day until Steve gets to go home.

——— Their prosthetics don’t match perfectly to their skin (the prosthetic’s skin being a shade darker than what they’d usually have), but they make do with them. And they find a way to joke about it. To mingle with the still raw ache of what they’ve lost.

Steve ends up painting the nails of Eddie’s prosthetic hand to match his real fingernails, black and shiny. Eddie aids with changing out Steve’s sneakers so that they match his polos and sweaters. And they find it especially funny, when they get together and hook up for the first time, to be laying in a pile of limbs quite literally on Eddie’s bed—but to look off at his side table, their arm and leg are cradling each other. Just as they do. Holding one another on the worst days, through the phantom pains and the afternoons where they sob. It comes easily, being with one another.

It takes time, like all things do. Like watching paint dry on some days. Or waiting for water to boil on others. Prone to lash out, sure. Prone to stay stock still in bed with far away eyes. But they’re in it. They live it. And as time pushes, days grow to be normal. To be expected.

“We should draw tattoos on our limbs,” Eddie suggests one day.

“I can’t draw, Eds. But what do you have in mind?”

In it for the long haul, with a drawing of a hand, is put on Steve’s prosthetic calf.

And then some, with a leg wearing a Nike sneaker, goes on Eddie’s wrist.

“Can’t believe my first tattoo literally cost an arm and a leg,” Steve mutters later, admiring the work Eddie’s done. And all they can do afterwards is laugh until their stomachs hurt, air is impossible to catch, and their cheeks are wet with tears.

🦾🦿—————🦾🦿 When my mom was alive and, obviously, still used her prosthetic leg, she'd threaten to beat up my bullies by taking her leg off and whacking them with it. Also, her leg had a piece of see-through plastic on it where she could have something customized in it, it said "Kicking ass and taking names."

[sickfictropes]

Ways to whump a character walking down/or up the stairs I know this is weird but I absolutely adore ur imagination and idea's they are brilliant! Ur posts make my day

( =＾ω＾)

you're so sweet omg thank you!! <3 this is actually funny because "recent amputee (well it's complicated) stuck in her haunted childhood two-level home with her estranged siblings" is a huge portion of my novel, so i'm quite familiar with this trope. let's see what we've got!!

a character who is already on crutches slipping. they miss the stair ever so slightly and their crutch slips, sending them crashing all the way down without the ability to use their arms to cushion themselves

an injured character standing at the bottom of a staircase wondering how they're going to get up and caretaker coming up behind them and wordlessly slipping their arm underneath whumpee's own to support them

caretakers fretting about a stubborn whumpee who refuses to ask for help going up and down the stairs even though they're injured so their friends have become hyperaware of the sound of that first stair creaking just so they can yell "I KNOW YOU'RE NOT ABOUT TO GO UP THOSE STAIRS BY YOURSELF AGAIN"

hopefully you liked some of these! there's a lot of potential here!

[fairfowl]

As promised! Izzy-centric fic recs!

These are all gonna be pre S2 (and all Steddyhands because I was obsessed for like a year)

@crabgrave

Starting off strong with

1) Battle of the Boyfriends

This fic makes you laugh before it makes you cry. A steddyhands centric dramady mostly from Izzy's point of view, and I love this Izzy very much.

Isn't he precious? They absolutely hurt his feelings

2) Doldrums

This one is a two part series that starts with Izzy leaving the Revenge as Stede and Ed reunite post S1. He recruits Calico Jack and becomes captain of his own ship while he and Jack have a lot of sex (I actually enjoy Jack in this one lol) Ed and Izzy eventually partially work things out

The second part involves Izzy back on the ship in the beginning stages of steddyhands

I think the real strength of this series is Izzy's interactions with everyone, but especially Stede and Oluwande

3) The Nook is for Talking Shit

This is a Calico Jack hate!fic and I'm here for it. Also steddyhands because I've got a problem

In this fic Stede and Izzy bond offer a mutual enemy, and Izzy teaches Stede how to craft the perfect insult

I like that they laugh together, and I really like it when Stede stands up for Izzy ♡ (I also like that Izzy has a very good reason to hate Jack that involves him having been injured very badly)

4) Navigating By the Light of Your Stars

A delicious sandwich of a trilogy where the bread is BlackHands and Stizzy relationship studies, and the meat is steddyhands smut.

Featuring: GrayAce!Izzy, whump, Stede’s introduction to BDSM, and discussions of mortality ♡

5) A Pirate Triptych

Another steddyhands trilogy!

This is one I've seen on many recommendation lists and it is worth it. These men and their guilt I swear ♡

Post S1 Izzy schemes to get Stede back into Ed's good graces at his own expense.

If you like Izzy whump this is the fic for you

6) More Vivid than Sunsets, Brighter than Stars

On a shorter and sweeter note this little steddyhands bdsm fic explores Izzy running his mouth and Stede and Ed going a little too far in order to punish him. Everyone gets their feelings hurt ♡

Everyone is characterized well here but Ed is kind of the star of the show, he has to mediate this incident and he's hilarious

7) House of Mirrors

This one is pure Izzy whump with steddyhands caretaking. Izzy is sick, Ed spirals, Stede is Exhausted (tm)

I reread this one often

anyway I think this is what I have for now, I might post another list at some point because there are a couple of longfics that are very near and dear to my heart, plus S2 is not gonna stop me from reading new fic. I look forward to seeing more amputee!Izzy