#iv port

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 4

Content Warnings: Mild gore (descriptions of blood), Needles (into a port, not hypodermic), IV port, Lab whump. All under the cut out of caution!

Sensory Deprivation

The sedative wore off at the same time it always did and they groaned, wishing just for once to curl up and go back to sleep. They had five minutes, or ten if they were lucky… but being found still asleep was never worth it. Old and new wounds complained against the arduous process of standing up and feeling for the door.

Sure enough, the fluorescent lights buzzed to life overhead just as they exited the attached bathroom. 

“Good morning, dear.” Their captor greeted, gesturing to the chair. Of course, always straight to business with him. But they wavered.

The chair wouldn’t have stood out to an outsider as anything other than a black leather armchair. Sure, it was the only dark item in the starkly clinical room, but that only made it all the more inviting if you didn’t know its use.

“You should take a day off. You’re practically married to your work,” they tried.

“You’re my work, and I don’t think either of us want that,” he shot back, removing four vials from his shoulder bag and setting each neatly on the tray. 

The chair. The tray. They were all laughably foreboding. Laughter never eased the fear.

“That’s new.” They knew the first three. Nutrition supplement, immune support, and hydration supplement. Administered every day like clockwork. Days with any more were days to be feared, but they’d started to recognize which drug was which. This was definitely new.

“Yes. Take your seat.” 

Always the same goddamn phrase to warn them they were going too far. 

“Ring a bell and I’ll probably start slobbering,” they muttered, perching on the edge of the chair. He hummed, unwrapping a needle and drawing out the nutrition supplement.

“Thank Pavlov for lessening that network of scars on your body.” His smile was pleasant as always. In another life where he wasn’t so sick and twisted he was probably a medical provider. 

He moved the neck of their shirt aside to access their IV port and inject the liquid, doing the same practiced motions two more times before their hand shot up to cover the port. Disappointed eyes fell upon them.

“Never without some kind of struggle, are you?” 

“I just want to know what it is before you do it.”

“You’ll like it. Now move.”

He pried their fingers apart wide enough to push the needle in and depress the plunger. Then he stood back and grabbed his clipboard, probably noting some bullshit about volumes and concentrations, and clicked a stopwatch.

“Tell me when your back stops hurting,” he instructed, and their eyes widened.

“You gave me painkillers? Seriously?” Somehow, they were more nervous than before.

“Something like that.”

When he wanted serious data he didn’t speak much. So silence filled the room until their pain actually reacted as he said. Not only did the sharp pain on their back fade, but so did the aches of months past.

“Holy shit. What did you give me?” They felt like a brand new person. It was… terrifying.

“Your new favorite thing,” he said, and they couldn’t exactly deny it. He finished writing and made his way back over. “Alright. Now for the real test.”

They couldn’t help the way their body clenched up when he stood over them. Or the way they trembled when he opened the zipper pocket and pulled out his knife. 

“I thought this was a scientific procedure. Where’s your scalpel?” A risky quip. They didn’t want to see that goddamn scalpel ever again.

“Scientific, not surgical. Calm down or I’ll need to start you on high blood pressure medication too.”

He tapped the arm of the chair and they obediently set their arm there, wary of his every movement as he flipped the underside up.

“If you struggle, I’ll strap you to the table instead.”

That was checkmate and he knew it. A timid nod accepted defeat.

The knife started just below their elbow, pressed in, and pulled ever so slowly down to their wrist. Eyes squeezed shut and teeth grit, preparing for the familiar sting, but…

They looked down. The cut was already bleeding, dripping down their arm, wetting slick leather. But all they’d felt was a mild pressure.

Their captor was looking on just as intensely, studying their reaction.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” they breathed. No pain. “Nothing whatsoever.”

He drew another line, parallel, and even as more blood wept, their eyes were strangely dry.

“Good. Let’s kick this up a notch.”

They opened their mouth to protest but a hand already fisted in their collar, pulling them up and pushing them against the wall. Their vision blurred when their head knocked off the wall, but the explosion of hurt didn’t precede it. 

“H-how do you know you didn’t just concuss me?” The longer this went on, the worse it felt. 

“I suppose I don’t. Not until I check you.”

“You can’t do that! You need to know how hurt I am, you need to know when to stop-!” A backhand flew across their face, snapping it to the side, and they whimpered. The hit had hardly felt like a brief touch, but its humiliation stung nonetheless.

“I know your limits. Do you think you’d feel a stab wound?” His question made them freeze, tears preemptively flooding their eyes.

“No- please don’t. Please. I’ll lose too much blood, you could hit something vital, please!” 

"Do you think my anatomical studies were for nothing?"

Pressure. Pressing harder and harder against their shirt, their abdomen, and then a horrific, slick coolness. It fell back and exposed a rushing warmth, blood staining white fabric, broken skin peeking through the new hole. God. They felt faint.

They fell to their knees and heard footsteps, probably wanting to test whether or not they were faking it.

“It doesn’t hurt,” they cried. “I just- the blood- I need to stem the bleeding.” That was true. Their hands clamped over the stab wound, trying to stop it. The shoes paused next to them in thought, then continued back toward the chair. Just moments later they heard his bag rustling and each vial clinking as it was set inside.

At least he was done for the day. Probably sad he didn’t get to make them scream.

He picked up the bag and his steps resumed, kicking something that skittered to a stop at their feet.

“Page me once it starts to wear off.”

Fuck.

[lovealwayssay]

Grief is so weird because I’ll be completely fine for months and then I read one sentence about IV ports and instantly I’m crying in the library thinking about my mom telling six year old me why she needs to get an IV port.

[audley-and-cherry]

Plugged in.

[birbwell]

hahagh wow detective show drawings

[heuldoch7b]

dorn time :) i had a very productive conversation with some dear friends about his theoretical prosthetic fist and tattoos, i think the results of such were fruitful. beloved polar bear ❄️🤍

[mustasekittens]

harry sketches i never posted. i need that guy to explode into a billion pieces

[v-arbellanaris]

sorry i WILL shut up about this (and start posting abt my new hawkes) but seeing "can you guys take a breath" and "decisions from 10+ years ago in southern thedas will not affect the current timeline set in north thedas" from specific blogs is genuinely wild. as if we don't literally live in a world where we are STILL just starting to face consequences to actions taken 10+ years ago, and as if US politics 10+ years ago did not have anyyyyy global ramifications for anyone outside of the US even 10+ years later. like. rivain, antiva, nevarra are all IN southern thedas wdym??? im half tempted to start actually listing out all of the things our decisions could have feasibly impacted 10 years later but seeing this take from blogs that genuinely still discuss the impact of the exalted marches on thedas hundreds of years later is WILDDDDDD

[hipstersoulgushers-art]

Tucker momence!

[stinkypire]

my frustration with the bsd fandom is that their bias hatred towards mori causes them to be stubborn in not analyzing mori's character at all. yes, he has done bad shit, but 80% of the characters has as well. bsd is a morally gray world. they simplify him to "pedo sadist that fiddles children" like just wtf. the sa dazai headcanon and theories spread around and shown in the fics are just so disgusting and triggering. you're taking such an intersting, mysterious, and well written character and painting him as the source of every problem in the BSD universe (basically making him a scapegoat). it's illogical and stupid. you're allowed to dislike characters, just appreciate how well written they are and don't simplify them down/mischaracterize them due to your contempt towards them.

[pizzamafiaart]

Welcome back, Chrono

[akkivee]

WAIT STOP THE PRESSES NEW ARB ON SWITCH ART

[areslikethegod]

like deer in headlights

[lynx-doodles-indie-games]

"you have found yourself a hunter…"

[audley-and-cherry]

Disconnected from my pump!

[jane-lynndrake-t]

You are gonna escape today?

Yes. If everything goes well, I'm getting out.

The building is a rental not a hospital, and the floor plan is public.

Ideally, I won’t have to confront anyone on my way out, but I planned alternate escape routes if I’m turned around.

I’m not above jumping out a window if I have to.

I don’t think I can afford to waste any more time. The staff is visiting me less, but I don’t think it’s because there’s less people here. There were some new faces among the “nurses”.

And they’re not very pretty and somehow even less friendly.

[crescentfool]

his love for cats is very endearing to me 🥺💛