#doctor whumper

[whumpbees]

Doctor Whumper who gives their patients a lollipop after The Horrors

[loonybun]

Check Up

hi. guess who wrote. aren’t you proud. anyways these are like. my favorite ocs. if you’ve known me for very long you know i will never shut up about them ever and have character blogs because god they’re in my brain constantly

contains: med whump/lab whump (not sure which this would classify as. sort of in the middle there.), creepy/intimate carewhumper, doctor whumper, does vian deserve his own mention here yeah he’s a warning all by himself, condescension, restraints, recapture, former living weapon whumpee, magical/sci-fi setting, references to addition and drugs, mentions of brainwashing and memory erasure, betrayal, needles, implied self harm, self harm being weaponized.

i think that’s all but let me know if i’m missing something. this one’s a bit of a doozey. fun for the whole family.

——————————————————

“You look like you slept well.”

He was barely even awake. The room felt like it was spinning, the all too familiar fluorescent lights inducing a dizzying nausea.

The shock of the cold metal on his back forced him into reality. Shit. This was happening. There wasn’t any way out of it. Not an obvious one, anyways.

Koi’s eyes drifted back over to the doctor, who greeted him with a soft smile. Right. Why was he here? Why didn’t he have—

“I took off that little cuff of yours, hopefully you don’t mind. I’ll probably have to answer for that later, but oh well. I figured you’d want to enjoy your last few moments of lucidity.” He murmured, pity crossing his face. “I know you’re not really capable of what they think you are. Poor thing. They think you’re a killing machine! A terrorist! It’s a little funny, actually. I mean, you’re…”

His eyes trailed over Koi for a brief moment. “…Harmless. Completely harmless like this.”

“—I mean, I’m not a big fan of killing people. Kind of why I was trying to avoid this place.”

“Yes, yes, and that’s exactly my point. I guess capable isn’t the right word, is it? I mean, you’ve done it before. I suppose what I’m trying to insinuate is that you’re just unfit to be the monster they’re going to try to break you into.” The doctor hummed, gently ruffling his hair.

“…It’s nice to see you again, by the way. I really did miss you. I know we were never close, but— You were always one of my favorites.”

Koi scoffed. “Enough of a favorite to let out of these restraints? C’mon, it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“…You know I can’t, Koi.”

“…Right.” He went quiet for a moment, letting the air grow heavy. Well, might as well rip the bandaid off. “So uh… What are they gonna do?”

And just like that, he was back to his giddy state. “Oh— Yes, I forgot, you like it when I explain these things.”

“You’re uh, not annoyed by it, right? I know a lot of the scientists were and uh—“

“No, no! Not at all. I appreciate your enthusiasm. I always have. People here are just so incredibly impatient.”

“…Oh, uh, thanks. Alright, then yeah, give me the rundown.” Koi already had a good idea about what was going to happen next. They’d throw him in a nice, big cell, give him the whole “You have a purpose here” spiel, and then keep him in there until he either gave in or escaped— not like the former would ever happen.

Vian’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he began to explain. “Well, you see, we figured that since you’re going to be here for a while, we might as well work out that little… Issue… With your magic.”

“And then they’ll expect me to join ‘em again?”

“…Well— Actually, you won’t have much of a say in the matter. They’re planning on wiping your memories. It’ll be like your little runaway incident never happened. You won’t remember the experiments either, of course. None of those silly traumatic things.”

Shit.

“Until then, I’m supposed to keep you hooked up to an IV containing a drug I’ve developed. Just something to keep your mind in more of an agreeable state. You won’t lose your ability to think, of course, you’ll just… Struggle with comprehending those thoughts. I like to say it’s like water slipping through cracks— Nicer imagery leads to a much less stressful experience.” Vian smiled cheerfully, giving Koi a little pat on the head.

He felt sick. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. “—Wait, wait, wait. Can’t we talk this out? I mean— You don’t really want me to lose my memory, right?— What about— What about my friends? My life?”

At that, the doctor chuckled. “Koi, we should really move on with the examination. I have a job to do… Maybe if you’re good, we can talk a little more about your options afterwards.”

Despite the bile in his throat, Koi nodded. Maybe there was a chance that the doctor would take pity on him. He just had to get through this.

Vian lifted up the thin sleeve of his hospital gown, staring down his arm while he fixed a cuff on his shoulder.

“…Now, I know we didn’t give those to you.”

“What?”

“Those scars.” Vian traced a cold finger along one of the countless cuts lined over the withered skin. “Those are new. Lined up so poorly as well. Goodness, you really haven’t been doing well for yourself, have you?”

Koi shot him a small glare that quickly faded into something a little more pitiful. He had to remember what was at risk if he fucked this up.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? Apparently having a guilty conscience has consequences.”

The doctor’s eyes flickered with mild amusement. It was an unsettling look on him.

“We both know that’s not what this is.”

“Didn’t you say you had a job to do?”

The pressure on his arm began to increase, then released all at once. The cuff went off just as quickly as it had been strapped on. Vian stared at the readings for a brief moment, then looked back at his patient.

“And who are you to say that a wellness check wouldn’t be part of it? I won’t tell, I promise. Now, you were always good with needles. Are you alright if I draw some blood?”

Koi nodded hesitantly. It would be better not to argue with the only person who might be willing to lend a hand to him. He wasn’t that stupid. It’s not like he had many other options.

The needle sank into his skin, and he reflexively let go of the tension in his body. He could have sworn he saw Vian smile at that.

“Good. You’ve always so good with these things. I believe that’s most of what I needed— We’ll do a drug test too, just to be sure. You’d be surprised hearing all of the rumors some of the scouts have come up with about you. Meaningless gossip, really. They claim you’re some worthless street junkie now.” Vian hummed, brushing Koi’s bangs out of his face. “Then again, I wouldn’t be totally surprised. You’ve been hung out to dry. We can lose ourselves, sometimes.”

He couldn’t help but lean into the soft touch. If it weren’t for the backhanded conversation, he probably would have felt genuinely relaxed.

“Yeah, right. I’ve totally got the spare change to shell out for that.”

“Mhm... Like I said, meaningless gossip.”

He needed to break the silence in the air. He could practically feel Vian’s gaze on him. Cold and scrutinizing. “Well, uh, is that all you needed me for?”

“Oh— Yes, we should be done for now. You said you wanted to talk about your options, didn’t you? This would also be a decent time to ask me any extra questions.” The doctor snapped his eyes back to focus, a smile quickly reappearing on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. That sounds good. Uh, so is there any way I can convince you to help me? I mean, I know we were never friends, but—“

“You’d like to be. I know.” He didn’t even let him finish. “You mentioned that once. It stuck with me for a while… I think I’d like that too. You’re one of the few people I can actually tolerate here.”

“So uh… You’re willing to get me outta here?”

Vian’s eyes narrowed, and his grin faltered. “…Well—“

“Well what?” He snapped.

“You don't really have options here, Koi. Let’s just think about this for a moment. I could let you go right now, send you on your way back home… And for what? For you to be miserable the rest of your life? To keep this up?” He gestured towards the lines across his arm. “You lived in a rotting shed. If anything, keeping you here is a favor.”

His blood ran cold.

“You can’t be fucking serious— Vian, please— I… I can’t stay here. They’re gonna make me hurt people. I can’t do that again.”

Vian’s sympathetic expression was looking faker by the minute. He ruffled his hair, earning him a desperate expression. “…Oh, yes you can. The war’s been over for quite some time. It’s not like you’d be used very often anyways. Don’t you want to feel like a hero again? Didn’t you like that?”

Koi began struggling against the metal bands holding him down to the table, desperately thrashing back and forth. “I— I won’t forgive you if you do this. You know that, right?! Didn’t you say you wanted to be friends?”

“I did. And I still mean it. You’ll soon find that you won’t remember any of this, and you’ll be more than happy to spend time with me.” He hummed. “Let’s be honest, sending you back would be plainly unethical! It’d go against my oath. You’d have a fresh start here… There’s really not a downside.”

“Stop— Please—“

“…I think it’s about time to hook you up to that IV. Thank you for your time, though. I can’t wait to get to know each other all over again.”

[montammil]

Lab whumper dialogue

My favorite trope is the sadistic scientist/doctor whumper, so I may have indulged...

1. “The greatest scientific discoveries often require us to step outside of our comfort zones. Are you willing to take that leap with me?”

2. “It will only hurt for a moment.”

3. “My dear, the ends always justify the means. Think of how so many people will find our research beneficial. You aren’t being selfish, are you?”

4. “Morality is just a construct created by society.”

5. “Everything we do is in the name of science... and science requires sacrifice.”

6. “You should feel privileged. Few people have the chance to contribute so directly to the advancement of science.”

7. “I understand your apprehension, but remember, you agreed to this.”

8. “I must admit, darling, I find your resilience quite admirable. You're much stronger than my previous test subjects. But don’t worry, I have a few tricks up my sleeve to break even the strongest of wills.”

9. “I assure you, I have done this many times before. You will be fine.”

10. “I know the methods I use may seem cruel to the unenlightened mind, but you’ll understand... one day.”

11. “I’ll have to remember to make note of this in my journal. Fascinating.”

12. “The line between genius and madness is a thin one, so go ahead and call me mad. To me, it’s a compliment.”

13. “You signed a consent form, correct? Then you fully knew the risks.”

14. “You’re doing so well, darling. Just a little longer and we’'ll have all the data we need.”

15. “I’m sorry, but the procedure was not a complete success. We'll have to try again. As many times as it takes. You understand, right?”

[redd956]

Whump Prompt List: NMA Edition

Based off of my NMA worldbuilding line

AKA Whump that @demondamage would like. AKA: nonhuman whumpees, experiment whump, medical whump, lab whump

CW: Violence, Hospital Whump, Experiment Whump, Nonhuman whumpees, Death Mention, Needles

Draining whumpee's blood in order to centrifuge a special resource from it

Hooking whumpee up to an IV that contains some form of sedative, paralytic, or similar formula inside of it

A physically powerful whumpee needing to be held down by a group, as a sedative is forcefully entered into their system

Whumpee watching their blood exit their veins through a tube, knowing theirs nothing they can do, slowly realizing that they're taking too much

Whumpee getting their blood drained, not knowing if their captors are going to stop before it's too late, or if they plan to get rid of whumpee this way after all

Filing down whumpee's sharp teeth, their pointed claws, sawing off their horns, tying down their tail. Whatever needs to be done to keep the nonhuman whumpee from having an advantage.

Whumpee being kept sedated or out of it, until they are needed for their magic

Muzzled and/or restrained whumpee lashing out at the doctors analyzing

Whumpee's every nonhuman aspect being analyzed, their privacy completely invaded, as doctors poke and prod, crooning over their find

A group of whumpees are captures, and they all fear the worse. However after one is found to be more rare than the others, they quickly discover that for one of them, it's going to be much much worse.

Multiple whumpees getting separated based off of the research that needs to be conducted on them

A limp whumpee, kept down for research, needing to be moved or treated as a comatose patient since the doctors dealing with them are too scared of their abilities

Testing to see what whumpee reacts painfully too, how they heal from the different things tested on them, watching them slowly grow terrified of the scientist opening their door

Taking a marker to whumpee's skin and going to town, preparing for the next set of plans

Forcing whumpee to use their magic or nonhuman abilities far past their limit

Whumpee growing more and more tired as they loose their magic/blood, watching the world darken and the noise of life muffle

Doctors taunting and teasing a heavily restrained whumpee. Whumpee, who is normally such a dangerous creature, can do nothing as they pull on their tail or forcibly spread out their wings

Hands latching onto whumpee's face, moving their head into the position they need to

Whumpee waking to the feeling of fingers prodding for the perfect injection spot

Strapping whumpee down to a table, the doctor admiring their work, thinking they'd never see a nonhuman of this type to work on

Whumpee being returned to a cell full of other nonhuman whumpees after a finish experiment, being plopped down unceremoniously in front of the others, before the doctor looks up to pick the next one

Tattooing whumpee to know what experiment group they belong to

Holding an oxygen mask to whumpee's face, watching as the mist of a sedative kicks in

[whumpsoda]

Trapped

I have been so busy and burnt out lately from work and writing and art and just everything :(

I have had like no good ideas working out for me and this definitely isn’t the greatest as well, but I’m glad to at least have SOMETHING

And idk if anyone has any ideas or requests I am SO open to that :)) Enjoy!

cw: restraints

———————————————————————

Doctor stepped to the bulky, leather chair, calmly plopping herself into it. The air in the bright, sterile room was thick and tense, but she paid it no mind. 

Armed, burly guards were stationed on almost every side of her, hammering into her head how really dangerous her job was. She would much rather ignore that fact completely. No matter how risky, she was well aware of how essential her work really was. Her constantly above and beyond results was also a telltale sign of her vitality.

Moments prior, she had been urgently called down to the newest resident’s room, 0075, for what had been described as an emergency. Her higher ups always seemed to blow things out of proportion, doubting her capabilities, so the doctor was not worried. The doctor was never, worried. Not like she would show it anyways.

When she had first entered the room, she had first taken notice of her newest subject, displayed behind a thick window of glass. They had been strapped into a firm, uncushioned chair, retrained with thick, rigid, leather straps. The sight sent a momentary strike of guilt through Doctor’s being. That would occasionally occur, before she had to remind herself who she was dealing with, and why.

As expected, there were no reported injuries or power use. The guards gave no rational explanation as to why the patient had been restrained, or why Doctor had been so urgently called for. Only that the patient was in hysteric distress, which was a very usual experience for Doctor to witness.

Sitting in her own comfortable leather chair, she prepared herself for the introduction she had presented so many times prior.

“Hello patient, I’m Doctor. I’ve been so eagerly looking forward to meeting our newest resident, although not exactly in your state of discomfort.” The person’s eyes across the glass stabbed into the doctor’s, their look a mix of fury, desperation, and embarrassment.

“Let me go.” They snapped. As they began to struggle against the straps, the numerous security personnel guarding them took quick notice.

“Do not touch them.” The command froze the guards in their tracks. “They’re fine.” Doctor flashed a genuine smile toward their patient in attempt to comfort them, eliciting only a glare in response.

Doctor remembered the patient’s file stating they were young, but not as young as they appeared. The subject couldn’t be any older than twenty three, at the very most. Doctor was much older, and rarely ever saw any patients under thirty. They saddened at the thought of someone being corrupted so young.

Doctor lofted her hands into a defensive position, almost as if taming a wild beast. “I know you must be very scared right now, understandably so, but I am only here to help.”

“Help? So that’s why I’ve been kidnapped, and taken to some, some crazy government place? Let! Me! Go!” The yells elicited no reaction from Doctor, having heard the same spiel so many times before.

“If you would prefer, I could elaborate on our facility, our practices, and why you’re here?” She smiled again, her dimpled cheeks lifting to her eyes. 

“No! I want you to let me go!” The patient continued struggling, to no avail, especially thanks to the metal cuffs that engulfed the patient’s entire hands. They became increasingly more distressed, their voice receding from unbridled anger, and rather leading to desperation. “You gotta let me go, lady, please! I’ve already seen enough of whatever crazy shit you’ve got going on in here, and I want no part of it.”

“If you’d just let me explain,”

“I don’t need you’re fake crap! I’ve already seen the other victims in this disgusting place, which was more than enough to fully convince me this whole thing is batshit insane!” They chuckled, a nervous and heavy one. Their cheeks were tear stained, their eyes already red and puffy from whatever events had perspired earlier.

Doctor was fully prepared for their first interaction to not go as well as she had always hoped it would. Not one patient ever gave her a trusting chance at first, but eventually they did.

This one would not be any different, she was sure of it.

“Honey, I understand you’re afraid, but no one is going to hurt you. Our only objective is to help.” She kept her back straight, both hands wrapped in her lap, and the same soothing smile plastered across her face.

“You kidnapped me! Kept me in a lab rat room for a week!”

“Oh honey, trust me, this is all for the good of everyone, and you know it.”

The patient let out another boisterous laugh, coated in worry. “You have got to be kidding! The good of everyone? Like I said, I’ve seen you’re other victims, you can’t lie to me!”

“Honey, they’re not victims, not anymore. They’re patients, just like you, getting the rehabilitation they need.”

“You call mind wiping rehab? Stealing and, and erasing a person’s entire being, molding them into some stupid,  carbon copy of a model citizen? Jumbling up someone’s brains? You people are insane! You’re not helping anyone but yourselves!” 

“We are not erasing anyone. We simply erase the villainy, their nature to commit acts of evil. Like I said, the disappearance of these seeds of evil in a person's mind simply ensures the safety of all innocent people, as well as the ill themselves.” A slender finger pushed up the shining frame of her cold glasses.

The patient’s mouth ran dry, a concoction of disbelief and horror spread across their scarred face.

“You- you can’t do this… I- I didn’t-”

“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t lie to me child, you’ve certainly done a lot of things. That's what evidently landed you here, unfortunately.”

The reality of the situation was ramping up the patient’s panic, displayed through their ramped up frantic thrashing and staggered breaths.

For a moment the doctor’s smile lost its shimmer, although it almost instantly returned in full. She turned to face the guard positioned attentively next to her. “Sedate them please, I don’t have any more time to waste dealing with this nonsense.”

As she began swiftly picking herself out of her chair, and strode determinedly to the giant metal exit, the doctor turned to meet her new resident’s gaze one last time. Although their wails enveloped the room, their eyes clouded by fat tears, they managed to meet one another’s piercing eyes.

“I look forward to your long awaited recovery, Villain. You’ll soon see just how delightful it will truly be.”

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumptober No. 11

Seeing Double

Convenience Store // Loneliness // “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

*~*~*~*~*

Whumpee stared blankly at the wall ahead of them. More specifically at the door of the basement, waiting for Whumper to return.

It was such a strange sensation; longing for the person who was torturing them to return so they wouldn’t have to feel this heavy, aching loneliness. This air-filled vacuum of nothing in their chest, in their bones, flooding them with absence. It chilled them to their core and left them wanting any semblance of human contact.

Even if that human contact was violent and terrifying.

Whumpee lifted their hands in front of their face. Their eyes acclimated to the darkness long ago, which meant they could see the thick, heavy cuffs locked around each wrist that was chained to the wall. It meant they could see the blood from their fingertips where Whumper pulled out their nails with a pliers for fun one day. The nail had only started to grow back recently.

It also meant they could see the spot of blood pooling around their bandage in their hand. Whumper would have to come down and change the bandage, right? Right?

Whumpee shuddered to remember how they got that wound. Whumper had come down in a particularly bright mood yesterday, or was it the day before? Time seemed to all meld into one continuous loop of moments in pain, without pain, recovering from pain. There were no seconds, minutes or hours for Whumpee anymore. Whumper had evolved that way of thinking long ago.

Whumper had clipped their cuffs together and unchained them, dragging them to their feet and over to an old school table. The ones that Whumpee had only seen in American television shows, where the table and chair are one unit. Whumper strapped Whumpee to the chair at the waist and then strapped their wrists down individually to the table.

“What— what are you doing today, sir?” Whumpee asked, voice hoarse, but not quiet enough to be able to hide their fear.

Whumper winked at Whumpee. “You’ll see.”

Whumpee watched as Whumper turned his back and walked to the cabinet that had all of Whumper’s favourite torture tools on hand to hurt Whumpee with. Whumpee tried in vain to pull their hands free from the leather straps locking them to the table. If they could get free… they’d still be too weak to escape Whumper. Whumper only fed them every once in a while. Enough to survive, but not enough to have energy to stay awake all day, nevermind escape.

Whumper came back with a hammer and a five inch nail. Whumpee realised that, looked down at the table, at their hands and back up to Whumper shaking their head.

“No, no. Sir, please! Please wait! Don’t, please.”

Whumper smiled his horrible smile. “Whumpee, come on. I learned today that apparently there’s a sliver of space between your nerves and bone in your hand and I want to try and make it through. It shouldn’t cause any harm, you shouldn’t need any physio after.”

“No, Whumper. Please. Not my hands.”

Whumper held up a finger. “Hand. Singular. I’ll do it on your non-dominant hand because I am so reasonable, how’s that?”

Whumpee wanted to protest. They wanted to cry and scream and call Whumper crazy, but a nail going through only one hand was actually a mercy for Whumper, one they weren’t about to spit back in his face.

“Whumpee.”

Whumpee winced at the tone, nodding like a bobblehead on a rickety road. “Yes sir. Thank y-you sir, that is so generous of you.”

Whumper smiled. “I know. Now, you’re a lefty right?”

Whumpee swallowed. “Y-yes sir.”

“Okay. Perfect. Now, just sit still and let me do all the work okay? And don’t tense cause then you could close up the hole and this won’t work.”

Whumpee nodded. They couldn’t suppress the violent shivers that tore through their body though, no matter how hard they tried. Whumper splayed Whumpee’s fingers and lined the nail up in the back of their hand, just down wind of the knuckles of Whumpee’s two middle fingers.

Whumpee bit their lip and screwed their eyes shut. “Whumpee,” Whumper chided and Whumpee’s eyes flew open. Whumper caught their terrified gaze in his, grinning at them. “I want you to watch.”

“But, but sir, I—” Whumpee screamed as Whumper slammed the hammer down on the nail, jerking their entire body forwards as they cried out in agony. White hot pain flashed behind their eyes as they jerked in the chair, their waist catching the strap keeping them tied to the seat with a gasp.

Whumper slammed the nail with the hammer again and Whumpee screamed until they descended into harsh sobs of pain mixed with begging, pleading for Whumper to stop.

“You can go more, Whumpee. Wiggle your fingers.”

Whumpee looked up at Whumper with a tear stained eyes, shaking their head. “Please, ple— please, no.”

“Whumpee,” Whumper said, his voice commanding. Whumpee flinched at the change in tone, their entire body trembling. “Wiggle your fingers so I can make sure you have full range of motion, or else I’ll have to recheck on your other hand.”

Whumpee bit their lip to stop themselves from crying out as they obeyed Whumper. They moved their index finger first and bone rub against bone that was beside the nail and they almost got sick, gagging instead as they forced the digit up and down.

Whumper grinned and nodded. “Good. Now the middle finger.”

“Whumper—” Whumpee began, but cut themselves off when Whumper shot them a hard look. They swallowed the plea and looked down at their hand, sucking in a deep breath. They got the middle finger a fraction up before a shriek of white hot pain flashed across their vision and their body bucked in their restraints.

Whumpee ripped their hands back on instinct, which would have torn their hand in two if Whumper didn’t grab their wrist and pin their hand down to the table. Whumper used the claw of the hammer to tilt Whumpee’s chin up so Whumper could look into their eyes.

“If you want to lose your hand Whumpee, that’s fine by me. Just keep disobeying me and you’ll get your wish.”

“I don’t— I can’t— it hurts,” Whumpee stammered, a cold sweat consuming their body and making their teeth chatter.

“It will hurt a whole lot more if I have to amputate it, won’t it?”

Whumpee’s eyes widened in panic. “Please, please no. Pl— please!”

“Then do as I say and calm — The fuck — down.”

Whumpee nodded because they couldn’t do much of anything else. Whumper waited patiently as Whumpee got their breathing under control. Their body still trembled slightly, but other than that they were as calm as could be expected.

“Good,” Whumper praised and patted Whumpee’s sweat soaked hair. “Very good. Now your ring finger.”

Whumpee’s eyes snapped open, but they knew there was no point in arguing the moment they met Whumper’s gaze. They just needed to get this over with so Whumper would take the nail out and bandage them up.

That was always their favourite part. When Whumper took the time to look after them after hurting them. When Whumper spoke like a human being and not an inhumane doctor. When Whumper would tell Whumpee about current events, or people he hated in work and Whumpee would listen and ask questions and Whumper wouldn’t chastise them for asking.

Whumpee moved their finger up and down and bit their tongue as they felt the bone scrap against metal and they tasted iron in their mouth as they struggled to keep their screams down in their chest.

“Good, Whumpee. Very good. How interesting.” Whumper murmured and pulled away. Whumpee let out a sigh of relief at that, because that meant Whumper’s curiosity was sated and that they would look after them now. They would het nice Whumper instead of the monstrous Whumper.

Surely he would come down and hurt Whumpee today, right? How long had it been? Hours? Whumpee tightened their hands into fists, lowering them to their side again to the jingle of chains. For now, all they could do was wait, and try to not let the toothy loneliness consume them.

*~*~*~*~*

Whumptober masterlist here

[aswallowimprisoned]

Restless far from a Wine Dark sea -Alt prompt Needles

Just a routine medical procedure with a very large needle and an unconscious merman.

@medwhumpmay

Tw needles, medical experimentation, Dispassionate whumper doctor, unconsciousness

A bit of the biology of my vampiric mer is explained in this one too

≪ °❈° ≫

“Procedure 269 on subject #3, the mer also known as Fogal." Dr Rana regarded the form lying prone on the gurney before him. "It is May 23rd 2025, procedure is a venom draw from the right venom sack, with entry through the roof of the mouth using a 14 gauge needle. Procedure start... ' Dr Rana checked his watch, "13:32 hours."

 With careful fingers, he took the seamonsters jaw in his hands and pulled downwards. The skin distorted with the gentle pressure, but his face remained locked in its sleeping position.

"As with much of the mer's body, the jaw has locked in sleep and does not move easily. This was not unexpected. 78ccs of orphenadrine to the masseter muscle should relax the mandibles and allow access." He held out his hand, and the nurse placed the prepared syringe to his palm. 

This had been prepared for, the dosages measured. 

He popped the lid from the needle, and took only a moment to swab the cheek of the sleeping merman with antiseptic. Clean and precise. 

The needle slid through skin and muscle, not hitting the bone, but close enough to the joint to have the desired effect. 

He circled the bed, swabbed, injected, rubbed into the skin on the other side. They waited a moment. This time, the jaw swung open under his firm hand, exposing the seamonsters teeth. Two elongated razor sharp canines protruded from a row of mostly-human teeth. But they were not of his direct interest today. 

"The jaw has been opened giving access to the pallet. Inserting chocks against the molars to keep the mouth open..." The nurse passed a block of blue plastic, and he carefully slid it between the sea monster’s molars, wedging the enamel apart. Even if the merman was to wake - which was highly unlikely given what they knew about his deep sleep patterns - he couldn't bite. They had also given him a medium dose of sedative since they were working on the mouth, though not enough to require breathing support. It paid to be prepared for these things. 

“Hold his head."

The nurse moved to the other side of the bed, placing one hand on the forehead and slipping the other around the back of the sea monster’s neck. His Adam's apple stuck out of his bared neck like a fragment of something broken. 

“Head is tilted back by 45 degrees to give access to the pallet." Rana narrated. He bent to examine the roof of the mouth. Unlike in humans, the pallet was made of a layer of cartridge, and that layer was particularly thin in certain areas. The venom sacs were adapted salivary glands, much like a snake's, and lay just below the nasal cavity. It would be an odd angle to work at, but he could manage.

He picked up a syringe from the gleaming tray of utensils, and looped his finger into the handle at the end for the ease of draw. 

"Extraction point is 10mm behind the right canine using a 14 gauge needle. It is anticipated 25ccs of venom can be drawn."

It took some pressure to push the needle through top of Fogal's mouth, but with careful application of force the cartilage gave way, letting the metal enter the nasal cavity and into the venom gland. His fingers moved, dextrous and practised, gently pulling back the plunger on the syringe. 

The venom was urged up the barrel of the syringe to fill the vacuum of the pull. Milky opaque with a hint of purple, the venom was almost pretty. This batch seemed paler in colour than the last - perhaps testing would show a different composition? He wondered for a moment why the change may be, then filed the thought away for later. 

For now he had a task. 

The prescribed 25cc was drawn, a streak of red marring the final millilitres. A potential contaminant. He would have to recalculate the draw volume. 

“The draw went smoothly, 25cc has been taken. Ejecting the needle now…” He pulled the needle from the sea monster’s mouth before his hand could cramp from the strange angle. “The wound is minimal and likely to be healed by the mer's saliva very quickly, so no attempts are made to blot the site, despite the large bore of the needle used. Molar chocks are removed…” He extracted the lumps of plastic deftly, mindful once again of the razor sharp fangs that could easily catch out the less careful.

The merman’s mouth closed. By itself.

That was… a deviation from the norm.

Rana glanced up to the vitals monitor, swiftly evaluating the readings. Heart rate had risen…

“He is regaining some consciousness…”

“I’m coming.” The interrogator, Mr Logan, spoke through the comms.

“He probably won’t have much awareness, and this level of sedation should prevent memories from being formed.” Rana cleared up the chocks and sheathed the venom collecting needle, “And I have weakened his jaw muscles so he may not be able to speak.” 

The merman opened his eyes, blurry eyes blinking fearfully into the light, trying to focus on Rana’s face.

“Tell him you're a doctor and you were just giving him a check up, and tell him no one will harm him.”

The blades of the sea monster’s tail unfurled and he flapped it like a dying fish.

“Fogal. I am giving you a checkup, no one will harm you.” Rana recited in a flat tone. The merman rolled his head towards him, jaw flapping uselessly and drooling on his shoulder.

“Aahhhrmmrmm” He said, predictably completely nonsensical and lacking in awareness of his surroundings. After his eloquent speech, the sea monster planted his face into his shoulder and passed out again. 

“Consciousness lost again at 13:39. Unclear why he woke up, but we will have to keep an eye on his vitals when performing procedures on his face. Procedure 269 on subject #3 ends.”

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 14 - Medical Monday -- Seizures, concussion, “See if you can follow my finger with your eyes.”)

TW/CW: Lab rat whump, day tags^^, apathetic-ish whumper, systematic dehumanization, mention of restrains Word count: 223

Subject 4778 had collapsed to the floor and was now unusually passive and dazed.

"Patient seems unresponsive, signs of a concussion.", the doctor said in a monotone tone. The doctor-in-learning in the corner quickly noted this development down on their notepad.

The head doctor crouched down in the giant labratory hall and examined Subject 4778.

They seemed to slowly come back to consciousness but their gaze lolled.

"4778, can you hear me?", they asked. It would indeed be highly annoying if they would have to get a new test subject after so much scientific progress. The subject's eyes tried to focus on them, they could tell. Careful and precise the doctor held up one finger. "See if you can follow my finger with your eyes, 4478." They started moving their finger.

The medicine student in the corner eagerly noting every development down.

Whumpee Subject 4778 squinted their eyes, trying to get them to focus. Eventually they managed to follow the finger perfectly again and also see and recognize the familar face in front of them.

The doctor seemed pleased. They straightened up and patted down their neatly ironed coat. "Very well. Subject remains in tact but needs to have a few days of rest. Restrain them to the bed in their cell again.", they ordered before leaving the laboratory throught the de-contamination chamber.

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober, @ yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt @shattermind-8

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 26: I Will Make You Better

~1220 words

CW: Medical whump, therapist/doctor whumper, mention of past noncon, clinical discussion of suicide and self harm, panic, flashbacks, overmedication, pressured eating 

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

~~~

DR MANDAL: You know I have to ask. Where are you right now with your relationship with Simon?

M BECK: I know. I know I keep flip flopping. But it really depends on where he’s at once he gets out of Summerwhite.

DR MANDAL: I’ve noticed something. Let me know if you think I’m wrong. In all of our discussions about whether you will maintain a relationship with Simon, and what kind of relationship it will be, you always hang your decision on his feelings. His mental health. His experience. Do you think that’s accurate?

M BECK: Yeah. I just want him to be happy.

DR MANDAL: I’d like you to try thinking more about your feelings, your health, your experience. What’s going to be the best for you?

M BECK: I want to be with him.

DR MANDAL: I understand that, and if it works out that’s wonderful. But Matthew, you are still having severe flashbacks. Additionally, you described that interacting with Simon brought on upsetting flashbacks while you were together in the clinic. Now, I see your face, I’m not saying that this would make a relationship impossible. All I want is for you to consider your own health and safety when you think about how a relationship with Simon would work.

[0:55]

M BECK: [Unintelligible]

DR MANDAL: Matthew, take deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re here with me. Breathe with me.

M BECK: [Unintelligible]

DR MANDAL: I know, Matthew. I know.

~~~

“And how would you rate your desire to harm yourself, zero being none and ten being you have a plan to kill yourself?”

“Zero.”

The gray-haired doctor, Deckard, glared at Simon over the top of his glasses.

“Lying won’t get you out of here sooner.”

“I’m not lying.” Simon did his best to keep his voice gentle, soft, non-argumentative, the way everyone liked it. It was hard with how much his stomach hurt.

“You were voluntarily a vampire’s chew toy until last week, that’s self-harm. If he showed up right now to take you away with him, would you go?”

“No.” That was a lie. The thought of Matthew - human or vampire - taking Simon away from this horrible place was almost more hopeful than he could bear.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, and if you don’t tell me the truth I’m writing you up.”

Simon winced.

“One,” he compromised, “Just one.”

“Hm.” Dr Deckard’s pen scraped across his clipboard, writing far more than a tally in a feelings chart. Simon’s knee bounced with nerves.

He was sitting across from Deckard in the doctor’s office, a massive cluttered desk between them. It could have been a bright room, but the tall arched windows were covered with cheap blinds. Fluorescent panel lights hung from the water-stained ceiling, flickering just enough to be noticeable but not enough to be fixed. Bookshelves along one wall were too neat to be used much, contrasting with the paperwork-flooded desk.

“My job,” Dr Deckard announced suddenly, “Is to make sure that you are not a threat to yourself or others. We’ve started working on the ‘yourself’ part already.” He leaned forward to look at Simon, adding the clipboard to the stacks on his desk. “Let’s start on the other. Tell me about Lara.”

Simon’s heart rate picked up instantly, his own eyes bouncing between Dr Deckard’s watery blue ones. Surely he’d misheard the doctor.

“What?”

“You became violent while under great duress before, I need to make sure it won’t happen again while you’re here.”

Christian told him.

Of course he did.

“It won’t.”

“Regardless. Walk me through the events leading up to your outburst.”

Outburst?

“I don’t…” Simon felt a lump growing in his throat. He felt stupid for crying so easily, But he was so tired, and his stomach hurt, and he’d only found one friendly face in this whole facility.

“What made you so angry with Lara?”

It wasn’t anger. It was never anger. Simon could never be angry with Lara. But he was so scared of antagonizing the doctor that he didn’t correct it.

Bowers.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dr Deckard tried a comforting smile, but it came off more like a chimp baring its teeth.

“I need to know, it’s for the best. For everyone’s safety.”

I need to know.

Simon was back there in an instant, trapped under Matthew.

This is for your own good.

“I really don’t-” he hiccupped with a suppressed sob, “I can’t-”

I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to tell me.

Simon pressed his hands to his face, shrinking down in the chair.

“Where are you right now, Simon? Are you with Lara?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” His voice strained with the effort of speaking quietly. He didn’t want to yell. He couldn’t yell. Not after the first time.

“Is Lara hurting you?”

Even now, Simon couldn’t help but defend her.

“Lara never hurt me,” he said, the words coming out in a low whine.

“Captain Isles…” Dr Deckard shuffled through the papers in front of him, and his voice grew stronger when he found what he was looking for. “Isles relayed that Lara would hit you and sexually assault you. Is that not true?”

It was. It wasn’t. Lara was different. But Simon knew Dr Deckard would believe Christian over him, so he nodded, dropping his hands to his lap and rubbing them anxiously against his thighs.

“It’s not true?”

Fuck.

Simon felt his stomach roll, and he clutched at it. He was given so many pills, and he knew they were wreaking havoc on his body. The doctors and nurses asked so many confusing questions, and made all sorts of assumptions, until it was too far beyond Simon’s ability to explain everything in the right way, in a way that would make sense to them, in a way that would make them leave him alone.

Fucking idiot.

“She did, but that’s not what - that’s not what I’m, I’m upset about, I just - please, I don’t want to talk about this, I don’t feel well!” he sobbed.

“Simon, look at me,” said Dr Deckard, quiet but firm, “You need to try. You have to want to get better.”

He wanted to get better, he really did. Matthew had told him to.

But this felt wrong.

The next tear-filled and flashback-riddled twenty minutes went nowhere. Simon was deposited back in the common room with a protein drink, red-eyed and exhausted.

“Hey sweet thing.” Chett approached him immediately. “Rough sesh?”

Simon nodded gratefully. He had wildly misjudged Chett at their first encounter - apparently Simon was unfamiliar with southern hospitality. He let Chett lead them to his usual table. It was just the two of them that day; Chett’s previous companions were long gone after their 72-hour holds. About two-thirds of Fort Summerwhite’s occupancy came and went like that. It was dizzying for Simon to almost always be surrounded by strangers, especially as he slept in a room with two others. But Chett had become a kindly constant, and he helpfully reminded Simon to keep swigging the protein drink as they played gin rummy with shaking hands.

He was underweight - if he took too long to drink it, he’d get in trouble.

No one wanted to get in trouble at Summerwhite.

~~~

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper

[whump-softie]

Whumper that is a Doctor. A perceived safety in a sterile room, the confidentiality, the careful touches of nurses.

Except maybe those pills aren’t the right color as they should be.

Maybe those nurses were pressing just a tad too hard in all the delicate, sore spots.

Maybe that gown was supposed to expose you, not to examine you. But at this point, it’s hard to tell.

You wouldn’t question a Doctor, would you? A professional? Everything you say is confidential… right?

[fanatichistory]

Scene Prompt 19 pt 5

Part 1 Part2 Part 3 Part 4

This one is full of medical/lab whump! Next part is going to have more of Whumper in it ;D Enjoy!

(Should I give the team names at all? Like Dr. Nova has a name...kinda tempted to name the team members...)

CW: Medical whump, multiple whumpees, needles

Teammate One continued to scream and thrash against the restraints holding them to the gurney. It felt as if their blood was on fire and their skin was peeling off.

The soldiers wheeling them through the hallway were glancing uncomfortably at each other every now and again with Whumper taking up the rear.

"In here." Whumper directed, pointing to the room just ahead.

As they all entered single file through the door, the gurney wheeled between the two soldiers, Dr. Nova looked up from his microscope at the counter and turned to greet them.

"Ah, I see Teammate One is experiencing the enemy's serum…good, good. Place them there." He indicated the open space in front of the monitor and machines.

As the soldiers deposited the gurney with the still screaming and thrashing Teammate One, Whumper stepped up to Dr. Nova and handed over the dart gun.

"For the posterity of your work, you should know that they have two shots in their system. The first one didn't seem to be working effectively. That, or they just tolerated the pain a little to well."

"I saw." Dr. Nova indicated the security feed of the holding cells on his computer. "You simply did not give enough time for it to kick in is all." He drolled, though his tone held the faintest reprimand in it.

Whumper shrugged with an apologetic smile. "I'll leave you to your work, then, Doctor."

Truth be told Teammate One's screams, which hadn't let up yet, were beginning to grate on his ears. Not that Whumper didn't mind screaming in general, but it had already been several minutes now and he was bored.

Dr. Nova merely nodded as they injected something into Whumpee's Iv bag and walked across the large room, picking up the clipboard with Teammate One's notes from his desk, and began looking them over.

Teammate panted heavily, their eyes casting wildly about, their blood still on fire and their skin still feeling like it was peeling off their body layer by layer. Their throat was hoarse as they continued to scream out in agony.

"Yes…they truly manipulated my serum to be absolutely incapacitating…Tell me, what does it feel like?" Dr. Nova gently placed two fingers on Teammate One's pulse to assure themselves that it matched the monitor reading.

"F-f-fire!"

"Interesting. I don't know whether to be impressed by their science division or insulted that my version of the serum was inadequate in some way." They mused mostly to themselves as they scribbled on the clipboard before going to the wall that housed a metal storage rack full of various vials and bottles and chemicals.

Plucking a small bottle from the middle shelf, taking next a few empty vials, Dr. Nova turned to the counter, opening a drawer and pulling out two clean syringes and removed one from the packaging. Their pace was unhurried despite Teammate One's obvious pain and they seemed rather unbothered by the continual screaming.

"This should counter it's effects, but first I need to draw some blood before I can administer it." Placing the instruments on a metal tray, he walked over to where the rolling cart was sitting and placed it on top.

Wheeling it over to their bedside, he picked up the needle and tapped with a finger to find a decent enough vein in their arm.

Teammate One's continued thrashing made it rather difficult, even with the restraints in place, but after a few minutes Dr. Nova was sure he was able to stick the vein as he quietly went about filling up the empty vials with his blood samples.

"Alright, hush now, I probably should have worn ear plugs for this." He mused as he prepared the antidote to the enemy's serum. Hopefully, it worked.

Jabbing it into their bicep he began cleaning up the tray and placing everything back in it's proper place, disposing of the packaging, and placing the blood samples on the counter next to the microscope for further inspection.

Teammate One began to slowly quiet down as the antidote started to take effect. The fire in their veins was beginning to cool finally.

Dr. Nova stood next to their bedside now that the screaming had stopped and they had begun to openly cry. "Walk me through the experience, Teammate One, what did it feel like? Use your words now."

They looked up tiredly, thoroughly exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sleep. But it still felt as if their skin was peeling off, itchy and uncomfortable to a degree they couldn't even begin to describe and it left them in tears.

"Teammate One…speak."

"The f-fire in my veins is-is gone now…" Dr. Nova began to write on the clipboard, shoving their glasses up the nose when it slid down.

"But?"

"My s-skin…it feels wrong. L-Like being peeled…layer by layer." They answered between sobs, their eyes pleading for relief.

"Intriguing to say the least." He responded as he finished his notes, leaving Teammate One as they were. Preparing a slide with a blood sample, he sat at the microscope and raised his glasses to the top of his head to sit out of the way and he leaned over to peer through the lens.

A heartbeat or two go by, Teammate One residing themselves to the fact that their skin with never be comfortable or feel this agonizing from now on as a side effect of the experiment under way.

"My serum was indeed vastly inadequate…this combination of components is markedly inspiring…" Dr. Nova mused, wonder and jealousy lacing his tone as he flicked to different magnifications. "I wonder who concocted this."

Across the room, Whumpee's monitor gave a single beep, alerting Dr. Nova that there was a slight change in rhythm.

It also drew Teammate One's attention as well as he got up to check the machines and make note of the change on the clipboard at the foot of Whumpee's bed.

Whumpee was still injured severely from the other day when Whumper had 'interrogated' them, leaving them multiple broken bones including their ribs, both their legs and one of their arms. It wasn't until after the base was taken over that the team found out that Dr. Nova had requested the broken bones in particular, to test something Teammate One was sure, but apparently Whumper had gotten to enthusiastic that Dr. Nova had to wait until Whumpee was stable enough to even begin.

"H-how is Whumpee?" They dared to ask while simultaneously hoping for information as to what Dr. Nova planned to do with them.

It seemed like the doctor was ignoring them at first as they put the clipboard back and sat at their microscope once more.

"They are recovering just fine. They are stable and resting, though I'm sure that aberration was due to a nightmare of some kind. It is common in subjects who have been through a psychological trauma." He half-answered, turning his back to Teammate One as they resumed their notes on their blood work.

"Interesting…" He murmured aloud, here and there as he continued to work the blood samples.

Teammate One had given up counting the styrofoam tiles on the ceiling and cataloguing every item on the doctors desk. Their skin still hurt and they needed a distraction.

"What is?"

Dr. Nova glanced back over their shoulder with a raised brow. "What I am clearly working on, Teammate One. I know you are still experiencing some adverse effects, the antidote needs some improvement to be sure, but if you would quit interrupting I would be able to manufacture one much sooner for you."

"S-sorry."

"Quite alright…" he turned back to his work, collecting various bottles and vials to bring to his work station as he got to work.

"If you need a distraction try counting sheep."

[i-eat-worlds]

This is a lab whump brain rot post. Have some ideas.

Whumpee only ever sees whumper when they are wearing a surgical gown, cap, gloves, and masks. When they escape, they have no idea what whumper looks like.

Blood soaked onto sterile drapes, sprayed onto the ceiling, splattered across whumper’s mask, pooled on the floor of the operating room.

Surgeon Whumper and Anesthesiologist Caretaker trying their best with limited access to painkillers and anesthetics.

Gloved hands palpating and pressing on whumpee’s bare skin, examining every inch.

Whumper complimenting whumpee innards during a surgery.

Whumpee gets sick/injured and whumper becomes obsessed with getting them better.

Whumper giving whumpee a daily questionnaire as the experiment progresses, watching as they slowly start to climb up the pain scale.

Half conscious during surgery, whumpee hears squishing and squelching until a finally, sickening, crunch.

Whumper showing whumpee each of their operating tools, and explaining what they do and how they’ll be used. Needles, scalpels, clamps, rib cutters, organized neatly on sterile trays.

Whumper paralyzes and intubates whumpee. They do not get anesthetics, and are awake the whole time.

Caretaker has to operate on whumpee again to fix the damage whumper caused. Whumpee is very surprised by the pain medication, and the anesthesia, and asking for permission before touching them.

I might add more if I think of it

[redd956]

More (More) Medical Whump

CW: More graphic or upsetting discription then usual, munschasen, medical nitty-gritty stuff, violence, non-con touching, dehumanization, creepy whumper

A whumper who knows what they’re doing, or is familiar with the medical equipment/process. Either they’re a doctor themselves, or gained the know-how one way or another in the past. (I use this whumper so often in my stories)

Whumpee being strapped down on a table, bed, or chair so whumper could do their work easier

Measuring whumpee. Whumper pulling as tightly as they want, even around whumpee’s neck. Why are they measuring? Whumpee could only fear or anticipate what is in store

Tracing sharp medical equipment along whumpee’s skin, or threatening whumpee with it

Forcing whumpee to pick an injection, refusing to tell them the side effects. Is it a sedative, paralyzer, pain inducing?

Whumper looming over whumpee before they lose consciousness, mumbling to them whatever they’re planning

Whumper’s identity hidden from whumpee via masks and more

Whumpee being munschasened

Whumper disguising themselves as Whumpee’s caretaker

Researching whumpee, checking their vitals constantly, watching their every move, and monitoring their behavior

Drawing whumpee’s blood to analyze it

Dehumanizing whumpee as a marvel, an experiment, something to research

Telling whumpee about all their medical imperfections, ingraining dysphoria into their minds

Obessing over whumpee’s behaviors. Whumper is writing everything down. Whumpee can’t help it, they want to know what whumper’s pen is constantly etching about. It’s driving them insane. Every action prompts another line. Whumpee is growing anxious about doing anything.

Whumper cautiously lifting a lethargic whumpee (Bridal Carry?!), moving their arms for them carefully, meeting their necessities medical or not. Whumpee can’t tell if they can trust them or not.

[zoethehead]

So I just realized this, for all the death metal fans that also like Whump, "Operating Theatre" by Impaled, is a great whump-y song from the Whumper's point of view, bit of a warning though; the music video's fake but quite gruesome. (tropes include tied down, stomach whump, mouth whump, and eye whump, followed by being roughly bandaged up)

also, it is definitely a doctor/scientist whumper considering the lyrics do mention Medical stuff, a good example of lyrics would be; "From this mutilation, there will be no recovery." which just fits a whumper in general, but another line that fits more in line with a doctor/scientist whumper would be; "Tranquilized and secured on a gurney. Associates throng for the spectacle on which they thrive, Unconsciousness no escape as you lay wide awake, our peers observe as your placed under knife"

-

and I uploaded a non mv version using the censored cover art of the album from which it came from ("Mondo Medicale") onto my youtube channel, of course citing section 107 and all that stuff.

[chaotic-orphan]

Helo helo, just asking...r u planning to update heroic betrayal? 👁👁 NO RUSH THOUGH IT'S JUST REALLY GOOD AND I CAN'T WAIT SJSJHSHSH

GOOD DAY!!

Heroic Betrayal (X)

Read part one // Continued from here

This part is dedicated to everyone who commented under the last part, that made me cackle like a maniac, and everyone who asked for a continuation of this series that warmed my heart— I’m so sorry it took so long, and I hope you enjoy <3

*~*~*~*~*

The concrete cut into her cheeks like a sharp edge, her shoulders hitting the walls and her feet tumbling over her head until she crashed and bashed every point in her body on the way down. She ended up on her stomach, blood dripping from the side of her head. She tried to push herself up, but a hand grabbed the back of her neck and dragged her stumbling to her feet.

She felt like she was going to be sick, stuck in a twister of Supervillain’s strong sharp movements that she couldn’t anticipate with her pounding headache raging.

“Now, here we are,” Supervillain said and he shoved Hero forward again. Hero tripped over her feet, her ankle rolling as they tried to stop her momentum in vain. An edge of something metal caught her around the hips and she fell forward, her torso folding with an oomph. A click and the room flooded with light. Hero squeezed her eyes shut, the light burning compared to the pitch black it was not a moment ago.

Hero squinted taking a quick survey of the room, searching for an escape, but no, no, no, no. There would be escape from this room that was just a concrete square of torture devices. Hero’s heart jumped into her throat as she glanced down at the metal bench below her hands. It was a table. A surgical table. Her stomach bottomed out as she gasped involuntary, stepping back and right into a solid chest.

Her blood ran cold and she couldn’t stop the tremors of fear tearing through her. Two strong hands settled on her shoulders and she flinched despite herself, her entire body trembling, her eyes and brain disoriented from the fall and the lack of oxygen and her fucking pounding headache. And she was really starting to wish she didn’t open her mouth.

Hero let out a sharp breath, a claw of panic grabbing at her chest as her eyes scanned the room searching for a window or anything that would tell her she wasn’t underground right now. She couldn’t… couldn’t breathe, oh fuck, there were no windows, there was a window in the cells, she gasped, pushing back against the chest shaking her head.

“Oh that’s right,” Supervillain cooed behind her, his voice painted with sick delight as his fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Villain told me you were claustrophobic. Does being underground trigger it, Hero?”

Hero drove her elbow back wildly hitting her mark, but Supervillain didn’t flinch or even grunt. Instead he grabbed her wrist, twisted her arm up and around her back, the other going to the back of her neck and slammed her down against the table.

“You really have no manners, Hero, do you know that?”

“F—fff— fuck you,” she said between fretful breaths. Every action, every movement was lessening and lessening, she only had a little bit of oxygen left in her lungs that was stuttering out. The walls pulsing closer, shrinking and she squeezed her eyes shut. At least the metal of the table was cool under her cheek.

Supervillain pushed her wrist further up her back until Hero was crying out, trying to kick back at Supervillain to get him to stop but the lack of oxygen in her lungs was dizzying as she scrambled. Her brain was fried, and she couldn’t remember any of her combat training as panic seized her throat.

She splayed her fingers, mind reaching, the invisible pull of her blades familiar as they rushed back to her hands. If she could just— two clangs against the door upstairs and Supervillain straightened, letting up some pressure. Hero pulled and pulled, trying to rip the daggers through the obstacle but Supervillain grabbed her splayed fingers and pushed them back down into a fist, smothering her connection to her daggers.

“No!” Hero wailed, struggling furiously under him, kicking back, trying to do anything, get anywhere away away away away from the danger, be able to breathe again properly. Her tears hit the metal table with wet, metallic drops, like a leaky tap dripping into the sink.

“What did I tell you about using your powers, Hero, hmm?”

“Let go of me, you fucking psychopath!” Hero cried, anger flooding her veins. With Supervillain’s hand off her neck, Hero threw herself back with a roar of adrenaline mixed with fury. Supervillain’s grip tightened on her wrist, about to push it up but Hero wedged a knee up between the table and shoved until the pair went stumbling.

Hero slipped free of Supervillain’s hold in his stunned state, but he recovered quickly, grabbing at her hoodie but Hero was too quick, and she was ascending the stairs, her breaths getting heavier but her breathing becoming even the closer she got to the surface.

She got to the door and grabbed the handle and shoved it open.

Only.

It didn’t open.

Hero stared. No. No. No, no, no, nonononono!

NO!

Hero slammed an open palm on the metal, screaming. “FLYNN! FLYNN I’M SORRY PLEASE! Please!”

Footsteps on the staircase. Hero slid down the door, banging weakly against it and crying out for Flynn to save her as Supervillain advanced again.

“Did you really think I’d leave a handle on the way out of this room, Hero?”

Hero swallowed the lump in her throat, focusing all her energy into the glare she shot at him, hoping he would melt right on the spot. Which he didn’t.

“You can come down and your punishment will be less severe than if I have to drag you down.”

“Fuck you,” she said, her voice cracking halfway through. She splayed her fingers again and wished, hoped, prayed that somehow they would get through the thick metal door she was trapped behind.

Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! What was she going to do? There was only one option for her right now and that was down, down into a tight, underground nightmare that was threatening to kill her. She needed— she needed to be able to breathe to think clearly, but even thinking was difficult at the thought of being dragged back down to Supervillain’s torture chamber.

Supervillain sighed, a few steps away from her. “Okay, Hero. Have it your way.”

He reached down and grabbed her ankle and turned to walk down the stairs. Hero kicked at him, landing a few solid ones on his arm and back before he was dragging her down and Hero’s head smacked off the concrete steps. She didn’t even have time to scream or groan or whine, small gasps at every bounce fogged her vision until she was back on solid ground.

Supervillain appeared above her, grabbing her, one arm under her shoulders, the other her knees as he bent over and scooped her up. She protested weakly, her brain rattled and her reaction time non-existent. Supervillain placed her on something cool under her skin, but she could feel something wet on the back of her head.

She reached a hand up to find the source of the wetness, but Supervillain grabbed her wrist before she could investigate and strapped it down to table in leather. He pulled the cuff tight around Hero’s wrist, so tight she couldn’t move it left or right, just up and down. She whined when he took her other wrist and restrained it the same way by her side. Then he moved onto her ankles and soon Hero couldn’t move an inch, her eyes glazed over and staring blankly above her.

Supervillain grabbed Hero’s cheek, appearing in her scope of vision, but there was two of him now, a shadow or a clone. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Hmph, you spoiled some of my fun, Hero. I was hoping to teach you this lesson to remember, but, oh well. I guess I’ll just have to leave a reminder for you when you’re more conscious, won’t I? Something you can’t ignore.”

Hero blinked at him, the entire world moved like cotton and she was completely out of it, Supervillain’s words echoing around her head. On loop over and over again, but still seemingly so far away.

“Lemme go,” she pleaded weakly, pulling at her restraints.

Supervillain smiled a wicked smile down at her. “I’m thinking something like a three strike system, Hero. Like tally marks or something to that effect. Something easy to understand, strike one was your insolence at dinner which will not be tolerated. What to do,” Supervillain mused stepped away from the metal table and out of sight.

Hero pulled against her restraints, trying to loosen them as hot tears ran down her cheeks. Flynn… she thought hopelessly. Please, please, rescue me. Please.

Supervillain returned to the table, a hunting knife in hand. “Wait, no, please.” Hero didn’t even know what she was protesting, but the words fell from her mouth anyways as Supervillain grabbed her right hand.

“Three strikes, Hero. While I know I could cuff you in power dampeners and leave you down here to hyperventilate all night I think this will be far more effective.”

“Tell me Hero,” Supervillain began as he started undoing the cuff of her right wrist. “Is it all knives you can summon with your ability?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Any will do.”

“Fascinating. And do they all sharpen your senses when you feel them in your hand?” Hero glared at him as he free her wrist and turned it so the back of her hand was positioned above the metal table. Hero didn’t bother asking him how he knew that, because she knew the answer he would be all too happy to supply. The reason Supervillain knew everything about her; Flynn told me.

“It depends on the knife,” Hero answered, the pained fog of her mind ebbing and flowing allowing some coherent thoughts to pass through her brain. “None are as good as my blades, but that’s because I made them myself.”

“I will never cease to be awed by adepts and their crafts,” Supervillain said fondly, tracing the tip of the hunting knife up Hero’s elbow and forearm before pinching it down slightly on Hero’s wrist. Hero didn’t dare struggle or move, afraid if she did the knife would slip and she would be dead. “But now that you’re more conscious, I’ll repeat your punishment.”

“We will do a three strike system, this is strike one. With every strike I will leave a wound on you, a scar that will remind you not to make another mistake again, okay?”

Hero shivered at how easy he explained his punishment system for her, as if he was telling her that her car needed an service or one day it would just stop. “Three strikes, and I will drag you along to watch Sidekick being murdered and you’ll know it was all your fault. Okay?”

“You’re a fucking—”

“Wonderful.”

In one quick movement, Supervillain slid Hero’s right hand over the rim of the table and plunged the hunting knife in all the way through her palm. A howling, banshee’s scream tore through Hero’s throat as she bucked against her restraints, howling and screaming: please, please, stop! Stop!

Tears and snot clogged her senses as she shook her head, her arm violently trembling against the trauma and Supervillain’s tight hold. Hero splayed her fingers on her left hand, trying to summon the knife out of her hand, but Supervillain’s grip was too strong, or Hero’s pull was too weak, and he twisted the knife in her hand instead, pulling more shrieking screams of pain from Hero.

“There, now. The first two strikes will be in your palms, Hero. To remind you that even if you try to fight back, with your knives or your words or otherwise, you,” he said, stressing the final words, “will fail.”

Hero sobbed as her fingers tried to curl around the blade but could barely move more than a flinch in any direction. Hero wouldn’t be able to summon her blade for this hand for a while, until the wound healed and even then? Would she get physio for the muscles and tendons Supervillain just cut through with a terrifying amount of strength?

Supervillain put a hand on Hero’s hair, brushing the strands from her face like a parent would a child who’s eating an ice cream and threatening to get their hair stuck in it, chiding but fond.

“This doesn’t have to happen again, Hero. We can be civil with each other. You and Flynn, I know you have a special connection. A bond. You can have a nice life here, free from the burdens of being a hero in this city, of always fighting uphill battles hmm? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Hero was shivering, staring up at Supervillain and she knew she probably looked sickly pale and ashen as she felt the blood harden around the blade in her palm, dripping down to the floor on the other side. She knew it would leave a scar, the reminder that Supervillain wanted her to know in her gut and it made her sick.

“So Hero,” Supervillain beamed, smiling down at her. “Will you behave?”

Hero’s bottom lip trembled as she nodded, warm tears flooding her cheeks as she sniffled. Supervillain’s smile turned softer, comforting, like a concerned parent. “Use your words, Hero.”

Hero sniffed. “Y-yes,” she croaked.

“Yes, what?”

Hero sucked in a breath. “I’ll… I’ll behave.”

Supervillain smiled. “Good. Good. Excellent. Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

Supervillain removed her restraints and sat her up on the metal table, and said he’d be a minute getting the things he needed around the room.

Hero sat upright shaking violently and trying to hold her hand steady by supporting it with her free hand at the wrist. She stared blankly ahead, both staring at nothing and staring resolutely at one white painted brick, where the groove was a faded, paler white, less glaring at her while Supervillain gathered supplies.

Before too long Supervillain was in front of her, setting bandages and gauze and rubbing alcohol down on the tray beside the bed. Along with other stuff Hero wouldn’t think was necessary like a ruler and Q-tips and other supplies. He was wearing surgical gloves as well, and despite herself Hero was thinking about what he did for a living.

“Are you a doctor?” She asked, her voice hollow.

Supervillain smiled a secretive smile at the question, as if he just found her out. “Ah. You’ve noticed, have you?”

Every once in a while Hero forgot that Supervillain was her nemesis of the last year, the Moriarty to her Sherlock Holmes, the Joker to her batman, although really more like the Riddler with how elusive he was. When she considered Supervillain’s job back before she knew him, she suspected it would be something as cerebral, like a lawyer, or a judge, or a doctor. She didn’t feel good that she was right.

“Yes, I’ve been a doctor since medschool. Long hours, overworked conditions, but I won’t bore you with hospital tales, snd luckily for you I happen to be an acute trauma surgeon,” he told her, smiling up at her through his lashes. “So your hand won’t have too much lasting damage. I didn’t hit any of the important muscles or tendons.”

Hero gasped, which sounded more like a bewildered laugh, “thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She hissed as Supervillain pressed down on the wound. He smiled. “Sorry, I just have to make sure I didn’t hit anything important. Okay, yes.”

He took a Q-tip from the table and said, “okay, Hero. I need you to remain as still as possible while I do this. Try not to move too suddenly.”

Hero let out a sharp gasp of pain aa Sueprvillain inserted the Q-tip through Hero’s wound until it almost poked out the other side. “You’re doing great Hero.”

But she wasn’t. She was going to be sick as he pulled it out and she saw the blood. The smell had never annoyed her before, but now the metallic kiss hung on the air like a factory that had to suddenly cease operations, a promise of something to come.

He set the Q-tip on the table and measured the blood stain against the ruler. Hero stared down at it, her vision blurring slightly as her mind went woozy and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Supervillain was standing over her hands on her shoulders sitting her back up again. Hero blinked, bile climbing up her throat.

“Here,” Supervillain said and shoved a bar of chocolate into Hero’s hand, the wrapper already opened. Hero blinked at it dumbly, and Supervillain gently guided it to her mouth. Hero took a small bite of the sweet, velvet chocolate. “You fainted. You’re okay. It’s normal with this kind of injury, but I would like you conscious while I tend to it.”

Hero blinked at him and when he was certain she wasn’t going to faint again he released her shoulders and Hero remained upright.

“If you’re a doctor…” Hero said, her head spinning, but she was determined to get this out of her head. “Didn’t you take an oath to do no harm?”

“Ah,” Supervillain smiled. “Yes. The hippocratic oath. I did.”

“Then how can you justify this?” Hero asked, nodding to her hand. Supervillain was silent for a moment, dabbing at the bleeding of the wound, staunching the blood and cleaning around it. His movements were so methodical, so clean and purposeful, Hero found their eyes drawn to it as she took another bite of chocolate.

“Where I stabbed you, Hero, is a very delicate place to be stabbed. There is a flurry of activity in the centre of your palm.” Supervillain squeezed just below the wound and Hero squirmed with a groan. “Here is your carpal ligament that controls the movement of your thumb, index and middle finger.”

He squeezed Hero’s thumb and said: “and here are all the muscles for full use of your thumb. If I went too far to the right I could risk damaging the ligaments that connect to your other two fingers, or hitting a clump of nerves.”

Supervillain dropped Hero’s hand and held up his own, pinching the spot the dagger went through Hero’s palm. “Here, there is a hole in your hand. No bone, no muscle, no nerves or ligaments. Minimal damage and less time for recovery. No need for more than standard hand physio and six weeks recovery at most.”

Supervillain smiled at Hero. “The Hippocratic Oath is an oath all doctors must take to do no harm. However, all doctors must accept that in order to make something better, there must first be pain. To treat the sick they must make the sick endure the pain, and fight infection, the body must fight.”

“Your defiance, in the long run, will make you worse than if I curb it now. So I am doing no harm, by ensuring that you quit fighting me unnecessarily. The same way I am trying to stop this city from running straight to ruin.”

“I must do no harm,” his smile was warm, “as a doctor. But as a civilian I can’t stand by and watch this city burn. Does that answer your question?”

Hero stared. Then shrugged with their good shoulder. “Not really, but I’m kinda woozy from blood loss right now.”

Supervillain laughed. “Mmm, let’s do something about it.”

Supervillain worked fast, careful to only press too hard when Hero gave him a snarky reply, and later on she would wonder how she got so comfortable with the man bandaging her up being the same man that stabbed her in the first place. She would attribute it to blood loss and Supervillain would bandage her head and help her up the stairs he threw her down before, and when they got into the kitchen he gave her painkillers and water.

Flynn rushed through the doors, his heart racing when he saw Hero. Her head bandaged and her hand bound so tight and thick that Hero couldn’t close her fingers even if she wanted to.

“H-Hero?” He asked, breathless. Hero smiled at him when he came in and waved. Flynn was by her side in a second, while Supervillain stopped chatting to her about the reason they chose to replace the black and white tiles for the floor in the kitchen. “Are you okay? Hero, oh—”

“She’s fine,” Supervillain said lightly. “We’ve cleared the air, haven’t we Hero?”

Hero nodded, smiling at Flynn. Something she’d attribute to her concussion later because everything was just a little too smiley, a little too comfortable, a little too easy, and she wasn’t entirely convinced that Supervillain didn’t give her the floating, high end painkillers.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard the screaming,” Flynn said, his hands going to Hero’s cheeks, checking her over and looking for any sign that she was lying to him. Other than her too large pupils she seemed okay. “I— your daggers— you—”

Hero grabbed Flynn’s hand with her unbandaged one and interlaced their fingers. “I’m okay. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Tears brimmed on top of Flynn’s bottom eyelids as he looked at Hero, his Hero, acting so unlike herself. So compliant and soft. It made him ill, the fact that he was the reason Hero was injured in the first place. That she was being subjected to the whims of his family.

God, he didn’t think Dad would do this…

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Hero asked with wide eyes.

Flynn ran a thumb over her bruised cheek, his touch featherlight. “Of course. Will you give out to me tomorrow about it?”

She shrugged happily. “Probably.”

Flynn laughed, and leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’d love to.”

Flynn helped her stand, and wrapped his fingers around hers keeping her close. “Be sure she doesn’t sleep for the next hour or two.”

“We can watch a movie!” Hero said, her voice light and chirpy, so like it was when she’d get excited before that it made Flynn’s heart ache.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat as he guided her out of the kitchen, away from his father and up the stairs to her room, terrified that if he dropped her hand for even a second he would lose her forever. “We can watch a movie.”

*~*~*~*~*

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[honeycollectswhump]

whumpee being yanked abruptly by their collar from behind. they don’t know what’s going on and can’t even see their assailant. maybe they are so shocked they just go along with wherever they are pulled.