Caretaker’s trying to carry whumpee to safety after a long battle, but there’s a deep gash between their ribs that’s bleeding out. They fold a bandage against it and tell them to put as much pressure as they can.
The longer they go, the more caretaker realizes whumpee’s too weak to push hard enough. They’re in pain, sweating and bleeding at an alarming rate.
Caretaker lays them down and ties a bandage around their chest. They hope if they pull it tight enough, it’ll make up for the lack of pressure. They keep pulling and pulling until whumpee jolts and cries out in pain, followed by caretaker profusely apologizing before picking them back up.
The unsettling closeness between a stranger caretaker, and a severely wounded whumpee:
The stranger picks them up and carries them when they can’t walk. Whumpee hasn’t felt a shred of kindness in so long they blindly cling to it, tucking their face under their chin to hide.
Unspoken trust as caretaker patches them up; but even though it hurts, whumpee stays silent and still.
Seemingly alien conversations when caretaker asks if they’re okay with being carried or touched. They tell them beforehand everything they do before they do it, not surprising or starting them with any pain.
Taking a damp cloth to whumpee’s face, lathering off sweat, blood, dirt, or all three. Whumpee’s too flustered to say anything, they just lower their head shy of speaking.
The night falls cold and whumpee starts shivering. They hold their breath and curl up against the back of the stranger, hoping they aren’t angry when they wake up…
hello friends! to celebrate the 815 followers that this little blog now has (whaaaa?!! thank you all somuch!), i’ve decided to put together a list of some of my favorite whump tropes and situations. you know. for reference. ;) what are some of yourfavorite whump-y moments? i’d definitely love to know!
now… let the fun begin!
hiding potentially fatal injuries (if untreated) to avoid distracting their friends from the task at hand
pale skin, dark shadows under their eyes, lines of pain around their mouth, shaking hands, hunched shoulders, raspy breathing, blood staining the fabric of their (dark) clothes, sweat beading on their forehead
stumbling and staggering along (especially when it’s the leader of the group, so the entire team of friends can see and exchange worried glances behind their back)
hands on their elbows to steady them when they threaten to topple over
thealmost asked “are you okay” or “do you need help”
worried glances, obviously conflicted about whether to confront them about the obvious signs of injury or to hover nearby, awaiting the inevitable
when they finally collapse – whether it’s planned, slumping casually to the ground to “rest”, legs uncoordinated and trembling, their back against a tree, eyes slipping shut in exhaustion and pain and finding themselves unable to get back up, collapsing with a cry of pain when it’s attempted – or if it’s sudden and unexpected, the staggering getting worse as they walk, hands reaching for the wall, an obliging tree, or a friendly shoulder, the murmur of a name on their lips right before their eyes roll back in their head, legs folding underneath them
worried friends desperately running instantly to their side, gripping their shoulders, smacking their (too pale) face or
the "hovering friend” being just close enough to catch them as they crumple, hands on their arms, hands supporting their head as they’re lowered gently to the ground
“wake up! hey, don’t do this to me. stay with me, you hear me?”
“stay with me!” and “don’t do this to me!” in general (i just realized i kind of wrote a story there… heh. give me a show (i’m familiar with) to write it for, and i’ll do it. ;))
“i’m okay, don’t worry about me. we need to focus on —-” (especially if it’s a person that needs rescued, helped, found, etc)
hands holding them down, hands smoothing back hair, whispered nothings
“hey, hey, it’s okay, stop trying to move, alright? we have to take care of this before you —”
dabbing sweat off a fevered brow, reassuring voices in the midst of delirium
trembling (bloodstained) hands scrabbling for the fingers of a friend, the grip turning their knuckles white when it’s finally in their grasp
only one person (the best friend, preferably, or the one they were injured protecting, or the one who was with them through the ordeal) being able to calm them in the throes of fever (or drug-induced nightmare) in the aftermath
unexplained weakness and exhaustion, especially due to some supernatural force, side effects or sacrifice (Stiles, Teen Wolf 3b was my whump heaven)
waking up in pain with no accessible medical help or morphine, their eyes fluttering open, gaze flickering weakly, barely able to turn their heads to the worried faces of their friends as they hover nearby
“can you hear me? hey, can you hear me?” as their eyes flutter closed
muffled screams, hands over mouths, whispered “i’m sorry”s as a friend tries to clean / bind / analyze a wound while preventing them from alerting the enemy / predator to their location
shaking, sweating, in so much pain they can hardly speak
pain when they breathe, every breath like molten lava in their chest
winces, shuddering, hitching breaths, gasping for air
“i can’t… breat–i can’t breathe”
fast, panting gasps in the aftermath of a painful ordeal
fingers going limp, releasing the hand of a friend or slipping off an object they had seized in the midst of their agony
when their focus blurs, breathing fast and shallow, head slumping to the side as they lose consciousness (from pain, blood loss, etc)
strangled cries from between gritted teeth, hitched breaths when the injury is inspected, blood soaked clothing pulled away from the crusted wound
seizures, bodies arching off hospital beds, frantic fingers trying to hold them down as the bed rails shake with the force of the fit
an oxygen mask being pressed forcefully over their face, the command to “leave it be, you need all the help you can get”
the frantic search for a friend, the desperate, determined “they’re alive, i know it, they have to be”
the moment when the lost is found, the choked whisper of their name as they rush to their side, hands lifting their head off the floor, the harried search for injuries
the “oh my god. oh my god. hey, we need a medic in here!” shout, desperate, tinged with fear, then the barely disguised tremor in their voice as they turn back to their friend, whispering, commanding, “you’re gonna be okay, you hear me? you’re gonna be fine.”
found unconscious (or barely conscious) on the floor and someone sits behind them, physically dragging their head and shoulders into their lap, gentle fingers smoothing the rumpled hair and pale face
arms wrapped around their chest, slow, shuffling movements, the winces of pain as they climb into a vehicle, head pressed against the window, the worried glance of the driver at the hitching breaths as the car hits bumps in the road
I’m positive that there are more, but this is all I can think of right now; more to come, I’m sure! ;)
Well, this was originally going to be a lot longer, but I decided to split it up into two separate chapters. Anyways, here’s chapter 51! Chapter 50.Masterlist.
CW: medical whump, experimenting on a whumpee, restraints, power-restricting/shock collars, some lady whump (nothing graphic, very brief), manhandling, possessive whumper, unconscious whumpee.
- - -
“Is this the right place?” Micah whispered.
They had been traveling for nearly four hours, following the directions of the coordinates on the small device. They were all on the edge of their seats- exhausted, and incredibly worried. Mickie finished rebraiding her hair for the hundredth time and wiped the sweat from her palms onto her pants.
“Well it looks pretty similar to the last time we had to rescue him, so I’d say we’re here.” Justin stated. He finished chugging the water bottle he had in his hand, crumpled it up and tossed it off to the side.
“The last time?” Micah glanced around- staring at the concrete building, towering walls- a few stories high, glowing faintly in the dark light. “What should- what should I expect?”
“Considering he was practically drowning in a pool of his own blood- whatever that man has done, it’s- it’s going to be bad.” Mickie snarked- her voice trailing off as she stared out towards the building.
Micah bit back his tongue, trying to swallow the fear. He had to stay level-headed for as much of this as he could. He glanced at Mickie as she zipped up her jacket. She looked so much like her brother- acted a lot like him too.
He wished the first time meeting his boyfriend’s sister would’ve been in better circumstances than a rescue mission.
His boyfriend…
Could he even call him that?
He obviously knew the boy liked him, that was clear. But if he was ready for a whole other level to their relationship was another question.
As soon as Andrew was better- once he was safe, he’d ask him. He’d make sure of it.
Micah climbed out of the helicopter, following everybody else as he adjusted the pistol tucked in the waistband of his pants.
They didn’t know he had brought a gun- after all, from their explanations they never needed them because of their powers. But he was just normal. Micah didn’t know how to fight like they did. But he did know how to defend himself.
And this man- whoever this ‘Splice’ was, had obviously done unexplainable horrors to his friend.
There was no way he was walking in there empty-handed.
“So, Justin and I will walk in there first- hopefully we can minimize any fighting necessary with my controlling powers- and then Mickie, you can disguise you two and follow close behind? Kind of as backup if necessary, but I want you to stay out of sight if possible.” Ali explained.
Everyone nodded, they knew this had to go as smoothly as possible. For Andrew’s sake.
- - -
It had been a little more than eight hours, and he was getting ready for the ninth transfusion. Double checking and triple checking everything- it seemed like it was going well. The cuts had closed up by now, which was good. He needed to retain the new blood- not continue to lose it. Splice admitted he looked beautiful though- the red lines covering the back of his body- the way his hair fell towards the ground- his eyes perfectly closed as he succumbed to the machine.
He checked the blood in the eighth bag from where it was hung- it was nearly empty- when the door to the room burst open, and two small figures stepped inside.
“You’re early!” Splice cried.
“W-what?” The girl said.
“This is not how I had planned it to go!” He cried, throwing his hands down onto the cart of supplies with a crash. The two kids just stared at him in shock, the boy with a weapon of ice poised to attack, the girl standing just behind his shoulder. Her eyes were so focused on Andrew that she didn’t even glance towards the man as he spoke.
“I needed three more hours. Just three!” Splice groaned in frustration, shoving the cart to the wall with a crash. The girl flinched back as tools and supplies rained to the ground as it toppled.
Splice dug his fingers through his hair. What was he going to do now? The process was going to be interrupted if they tried to rescue him. True he could always restrain the other two while he finished, that was an option, but before he could come up with a plan, the boy jolted towards him.
“Let him go!” He cried as he lunged an attack.
Splice groaned in frustration, knocking Justin back towards the ground with a well-aimed kick. He quickly sprung back to his feet and began throwing punches and attacks as the man tried to defend. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl rushing towards his prisoner where he lay.
“Oh no you don’t-” He stepped away from Justin, causing him to fall off balance. Splice grabbed Ali by the arm as she reached for Andrew and threw her across the room in a swift move. He darted to the control panel- grabbing a lever towards the side.
“Stop!” He shouted. “Don’t move. This lever controls everything he’s hooked up to- I pull it, and all the machines keeping him alive and breathing, will shut off, splat, kapoot- that’s it.”
“No- don’t-” The girl whispered.
“Oh I won’t hesitate.” He threatened. “It’s very noble that you want to help, and rescue him, but I need you to back away from the boy.” Splice demanded. The two kids did as they were told- holding their hands in the air. “Good. Now it’s very vital that I finish what I was doing, or this whole thing I’ve been working on will be useless.”
At the sound of his words, Splice’s own form seemed to melt off of his body. It pooled to the ground before rising up and splitting in two, creating two other replicas of the man.
Ali shuddered as one of them approached her- they always looked so dead inside- nothing behind their eyes, no thoughts- no feelings, just whatever command they were given.
“Grab her.” He commanded.
Ali couldn’t mind control something that didn’t have a mind of it’s own.
Her powers were useless against it as the figure pulled her arms tight behind her back, holding her in a tight grip. Justin darted towards her to help but the second clone grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
He cried out, trying to swing a punch with his other arm but it was blocked just as quickly as he swung it.
“Hey now-” Splice called out- motioning towards the lever- “I suggest you cooperate. For your friend’s sake here.”
Justin glared towards the man and let his arms be pulled behind his back with a grumble- glancing towards Ali to make sure she was alright. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of Andrew the entire time.
“There we are, that’s better.” The man stated. He disconnected the drip bag that was now empty, and set it off to the side.
“What are you doing to him?” Ali asked. Her voice wavered with worry as she watched her friend lie there- unmoving, suspended in the air.
“Oh you don’t need to worry about that. Let’s get you two out of the way for the moment, shall we?”
Splice moved to the cart where he had collected a few extra collars. They were scattered about with the other supplies, but he managed to pick them out of the mess. The goal was to make more as time went on, for all future prisoners, but these other three he had rounded up would have to do, even if they may have been a little imperfect.
He slipped one over his arm, grabbing the second in his hand. He pressed his thumb against a button and moved towards the girl.
“Hold still now- this will only pinch a little.”
“What are you- hey-” She cried out as the collar was locked around her throat, a sharp pinch in the back of her neck from the prongs. Almost instantly waves of pain shot up the back of her neck, exploding into her head. She groaned out- this was far worse than any migraine- and soon her vision began going spotty.
Her limbs felt heavy, and her knees began to buckle.
Justin lashed out towards her as she started to fall. The clone struggled to hold him back, but as the other one laid Ali down by the wall it quickly came to restrain Justin as well.
“What did you do!” He cried. “What did you do to her!” He was seething with anger- thrashing about as a clone struck the back of his knees, tearing his arms behind him as he crashed to the ground.
Justin watched with terror as she groaned and writhed on the floor- her hands clutching the sides of her head. His attention was quickly pulled away Splice approached him next with the second collar.
“No- get that away from me!”
Splice wrenched his head back with a fistful of his hair, exposing his neck and soon the collar was locked around his throat as well. He winced at the pain and nearly instantly began to feel slightly dizzy.
“What is-” his fingers reached towards his throat. “What is this-” his breathing began to quicken.
“They’re power restricting, isn’t wonderful? Much easier than a surgical procedure, like we had to use last time” Splice explained. His clones came back and melded back into his form, as Justin collapsed on the ground- panting for breath.
“It’s different for each person. They’re beautifully made, but of course I’m a little biased, considering they are my creation.” He gestured towards the boy- his white hair drooping to the ground- his pale skin. “Andrew here simply became more easier to work with. For her, she’s probably having the worse migraine of her life, and you,” Splice knelt down in front of Justin- his face beginning to feel clammy as he tilted his chin up “-you will probably start feeling the affects of dehydration pretty soon. Your powers being water-based and all.”
Justin looked towards Ali once more. Herbody was shaking as her arms wrapped around her head. His limbs felt heavy as he dragged himself over to where she lay on the ground. His fingers fumbled uselessly over the edges of her collar- trying to find a clasp, an opening, or something.
“I wouldn’t recommend that if I were you.” Splice taunted.
“Take it off-” he pleaded- “it’s hurting her-”
“That won’t work- they’re encoded with my fingerprint. It’s the only way to remove them.”
Ali grumbled as he fussed with it some more- ignoring all the man’s direction.
“Take it off-” he demanded.
Splice shook his head, reaching for a small remote he kept in his pocket.
“Alright, well if you won’t listen to me-”
And then there was fire coursing through his veins. Justin flew back from Ali, his back crashing against the ground.
“Did I mention they have incapacitating abilities as well?”
The shocks coursed through his veins- spasming every muscle, tightening his lungs- and Justin screamed. Splice knelt near the boy as he thrashed against the ground, and waved the remote towards the girl.
“Next time- it’ll be her collar that goes off, understand?”
Through his groans of pain Justin nodded, sweat pouring down his forehead as he spasmed.
“Good. I suggest you listen from now on, yes?”
Splice rose to his feet as he turned up the dial for the strength of the shocks, and Justin screamed once more.
Here we go! I’m getting excited for where this is going. I did give myself the feels with this chapter though. Chapter 48.Masterlist.
CW: Restraints, drugged whumpee, medical whump, knives, blood, some angst and grief and just general sad emotions.
- - -
Ursa Major- Orion- Scorpius. Cassiopeia, Ursa Minor- Leo- the Hercules constellation- that one was his favorite. It was complex, and sometimes hard to find, but it was beautiful.
He ran through the names of all the stars and constellations he could remember- trying hard to focus while his brain went fuzzy. He felt like he was floating- his vision black behind his eyes- so black he could nearly visualize specks and dots that he could pretend was the night sky.
His body lay suspended- in a terrifying artwork of chains and platforms- wires and tubes- drugs and fluids being pushed in and through his body, as the device running down his throat forced his lungs to continue to beat.
After probably half an hour the drugs had latched onto his system- dripping through in a slow and steady rhythm. It made him feel as if he was floating.
As if his body wasn’t his own- like it was separate from his mind and thoughts. The only good thing that came was that it dulled the pain that had been coursing fiercely through him prior to that moment. His ankles were a dull pulse- like the weight of your own tongue in your mouth. You know it’s there- but is instantly uncomfortable once you’re aware of it.
He barely twitched a finger anymore- barely attempted to wiggle a toe or flutter an eyelash.
He couldn’t sleep- something was stopping him from slipping into unconsciousness- but it was easier to keep his eyes closed.
And so- his mind raced with everything he could’ve imagined.
He couldn’t feel a thing across his body- but his mind was a whole other universe.
- - -
There was a warm hand brushing against his. A pinky finger- dark complexion, smooth, soft skin with black-painted nails. It rested over his, as if dipping a toe into the edge of a pool, testing the waters before diving in.
Fingers interlocked with his, palms touching- the smaller hand resting underneath his own.
There were no scars- no shake or tremble- or cramping up of severed muscles- just warmth on warmth.
A soft pair of lips- brushing against his knuckles and leading to the back of his palm.
A soft head of hair- brushing against the side of his face as it rested against his shoulder. The scent of coconut and lime shampoo- thick waves- the shiny color with darkened roots from faded hair dye.
He turned his head towards the other boy’s- their eyes meeting. His gaze was met with a smirk- that half turned corner of lip that sent his whole chest ablaze.
Andrew’s eyes shot open with a flash of shock- that fire had crept back into his chest- his lungs pounding against the strength of the machine.
He willed himself to calm down, which wasn’t difficult considering it was easier to lull his body into submission, than it was to fight.
He soon fell back into the rhythm and started to let his mind wander once more.
“So how do you like your new friend?”
His eyes shot back open- the beeping of the heart monitor getting faster as he saw the man approaching. He trailed his gaze once more to the ceiling as his body was forced back to a steady rhythm.
Splice glanced over the monitors- taking a few notes and comparisons on a stack of clipboards.
“It seems we’re fairly well-adjusted. We’ll move on to the next faze then.” Andrew’s eyes trailed over to the man. “I’m excited for this part.”
He stared towards the ceiling again- not liking the sound of where this was going- and then he felt himself rising in the air once more.
The tubes and wires followed with him- but there was a slight tug at the device and instruments down his throat as his head rose from the platform. It sent waves of fire down his throat and inside his chest before settling once more.
Andrew listened as the platforms were unscrewed from the floor and tossed aside- he was level with the man’s head- resting just above his shoulder and the ceiling maybe a foot or two above his face.
“Now I should let you know, everything I do is for a reason. It’s all carefully thought out- planned- prepared.” The man traced a hand around the edges of Andrew’s body as he spoke- sending goosebumps along his skin. “I just need to adjust some dosages of certain things here, and then we can get started.”
He could feel his skin starting to tingle- nerves lighting up as feeling came back into parts of his body. It wasn’t full awareness- but he was more keen on the throbbing of his ankles- the ache in his hips from the pressure of the chains- the jabbing in the back of his neck from the collar- all the little things that made him just slightly more miserable- but it wasn’t unbearable.
He had a feeling that was going to change very soon.
There was a small prick at the back of his neck, just right under the base of the collar. His eyes clenched tight- but there was no pain. Just the pressure of the tip of a knife piercing skin.
“Hmm- interesting.” Splice muttered. He stood underneath the boy, wiping the drop of blood away with a finger and brushing it off on his pants. “Well then, let’s continue.”
The knife once again pierced the same spot- and then proceeded to tear it’s way down the length of Andrew’s spine. Splice watched as the skin split- a ribbon of red welling up behind before dripping down in solemn thuds to the floor. He lifted the knife once the tip had reached the top of Andrew’s tailbone- right above the line where the metal band met the top of his shorts.
Andrew felt the warmth of his blood seeping across his skin- clinging to it before giving up and dropping to the floor. He had felt the pressure of it tearing through skin- but there was no pain.
Splice wiped off the edge of the knife on a sanitized rag, setting it down for a moment before checking the screens.
“Are you feeling any pain?” The man asked.
Andrew glanced towards him- unable to answer.
“Blink once for no- twice for yes.”
The boy thought for a moment. He felt the pressure- the coolness of the blade and the warmth of his blood- but he hadn’t really felt the pain. He could lie- maybe that would pause whatever experiment this was- but when had Splice cared about the pain he was in before? It wouldn’t change anything if he did.
He blinked once.
“Good. I’ll continue then.”
Andrew clenched his eyes as the tip of the blade pierced right underneath his shorts on the back of his thigh. There was the edge of a fresh welt right there, blossoming in a mountain against his skin- a thick band running down the middle from the belt that was used.
There was a little resistance- but Splice sighed with contentment as the skin gave and the knife carved through freely. It trailed down his thigh, behind his knee, and all the way to his ankles, right above the metal cuff.
Andrew stared back at the opposite side of the room. He wanted nothing to be a part of this. But unfortunately it was his body- though it wasn’t his choice to make.
Once the knife pierced the same spot on the other leg, he willed his mind to be absolutely anywhere but here.
- - -
His fingers ran absentmindedly through Micah’s hair as the boy’s head rested on his stomach. He stared up at his bedroom ceiling from the bed they were lying in, blankets hanging off the edge, pillows scattered about.
Andrew had woken up in a warm pile of limbs and fabric- an arm draped across his chest, a leg creeping atop of his, a soft face curling into the side of his neck.
He didn’t think asking the boy to spend the night would’ve worked- but it did. He didn’t expect it to feel so natural- or comforting or peaceful or- well, he had actually slept. Andrew stretched out with a yawn, feeling the cuts along his back from a few days prior and he winced- hoping they hadn’t torn open.
Micah’s eyes blinked up at him from where his head rested on the pillow.
“G-morning handsome-” he mumbled.
Andrew smiled.
He hadn’t smiled this much since he had come home. But something about the boy- about the glint in his hair- the softness of his skin- just looking at him made Andrew want to smile.
“How’d you sleep?” He asked. His voice was rough and low- still fighting back the sleep.
Micah nodded, humming to himself before propping up on his elbows, his head resting on his hand.
“Good- you’re very warm.”
Andrew blushed. He stared as the edge of the sweater Micah was wearing fell around his shoulder- exposing the soft skin of his collarbone- that was- that was his sweater.
His navy blue sweater with the too-long sleeves that he liked to roll up, with the knitted pattern that a grandma would make. He had found it at a thrift store for seven dollars. But now- now Micah was wearing it- and the navy blue matched his hair, though it wasn’t as shiny. The sleeves pooled far past his wrists and hung loose around his frame, and it was- gosh, Micah was-
Andrew turned his head away before he could continue staring much more than he already had. The boy had crawled his way over to Andrew’s stomach, resting his head there as they stared up at the ceiling.
At first Andrew’s breath caught in his throat- the pressure more sensitive as he remembered his injuries- all the damage- and the vulnerability that came- but Micah was different. Micah was always different- in a good way.
Andrew’s face tilted down to meet Micah’s as his eyes peeked up from underneath his hair. It was usually slicked back- styled neatly- but his bedhead created an adorable messy mop of unusual angles.
A gentle hand reached up, mindless fingers trailing along the edges of his face, brushing across his nose.
“I like your freckles.” Micah mumbled.
“Hmm?”
“They’re really pretty.”
Andrew couldn’t have blushed harder. Micah’s hand went back to rest on his stomach and he stared back upwards again, as if trying to visualize something from the paint patterns on the ceiling.
“They remind me of- of stars. Like constellations. When you’re far enough from the city that you can look in the sky and that’s all you see- and the harder you look the more you find and they just go on- and on- and it’s beautiful and-”
“I like the stars.” Was all that Andrew could think of to say.
- - -
Splice stepped back to look at his artwork. The boy had his eyes closed- neck leaned back- his pale, limp hair- (or what was left of it)- drooped to the ground. There were no freckles across his skin- they had faded away into the clammy white that was now his complexion.
It was no matter though- the freckles weren’t important. And frankly- the paler complexion looked beautiful in contrast to the stark red of the blood that was bursting through his skin.
Dark lines carved in patterns down his limbs. One ran down his spine- followed by several others crossing perpendicular- under his shoulderblades, across his hips, and right below his neck- creating a cross formation as the line continued down each of his arms, all the way through his palms. Two more carved down the backs of his legs towards his ankles- with some on the bottoms of his feet for good measure, and a few more across the backs of his thighs.
It was beautiful- carefully thought out and well-planned. And perfectly executed.
Not a vein- artery, or vital blood vessel had been nicked. Otherwise he’d bleed out to fast. The man didn’t need him to die- just to be drained of as much of himself as he could in order for the next phase of this experiment.
True, he could’ve drained his blood in a more, medical safe way, which he would be doing as well, but this was far more, aesthetically pleasing you could say.
The blood dripped to the floor in red ribbons, pooling down before running to the drain in rivers. It was beautiful- he really was a piece of artwork.
Splice lowered the boy slightly until he was resting on the platforms once more, and went back to check the levels of his vitals. He adjusted the dosage of some of the drugs he was on- he needed to have some level of feeling and pain- so that his mind could send the right signals to start repairing his body, and accept the new fluids he’d be given. But everything looked just as it should- the boy could lay undisturbed for a few hours as he bled out and be just fine in time for the new blood to be introduced.
“Ah, you are awake.” The man stated. “Don’t worry- I know you probably don’t feel good, but everything is going perfectly according to plan. I’ll be back in a few hours to continue the next phase. I’m excited for this one.”
The boy’s eyes darted about, trying to recollect everything that was going on but his brain was fuzzy and disoriented from the loss of blood and the heavy drugs.
He heard that same laughing as footsteps grew quieter.
“Don’t go anywhere.” The man stated- and Andrew was left alone once more.
He could barely feel anything. There was a warmth from underneath him- it seemed to be only down his back- along the underside of his legs and arms.
He could hear dripping- the wet thuds against the floor in steady rhythms all around him.
And then he remembered the knife, the cuts it made dragging through his skin- and he shuddered at thinking how he looked beneath the chains as his blood dripped to the floor.
He closed his eyes- feeling the steady rhythm of his lungs beating inside his chest as the air rushed through the tubes down his throat.
He saw spots behind his vision as his eyelids fluttered. Spots that danced in his mind- echoing of the stars- the constellations of the night sky.
The stars that-
“They remind me of stars.” He had said. “Of the constellations in the country sky- neverending and- and beautiful.”
His voice played through in his mind over and over and over and over again. He wished he could remember more conversations- more words of peace and comfort and joy and- and love.
And love-
He didn’t think he’d ever been or love- or he’d ever get the chance to be in love.
But that boy-
The way his mouth curled up to the side in a half-smirk or a smile, flashing a hint of teeth as his hair fell over his face. The way his hair brushed behind his piercings- flashing beautifully behind his ear and framing the features of his face.
His chest tightened but Andrew ignored it as the way the soft hands held him grew in his memory. The way they brushed through his hair- or down the sides of his face. The shape of that boy’s hand in his- and he-
Goodness, Andrew hadn’t even kissed the boy.
He had never kissed him- never seen what his lips felt like or got to feel that rush of adrenaline and joy as they held each other in passion- or shared all their secrets and bared their souls as they held each other close at night and-
Oh he wanted it.
Andrew had never felt like this before- never even thought it was a possibility.
But for a brief moment it was.
But now it would only be memories. The memories and the regrets and the things he never got to have or never got to do. His chest hurt- growing tighter and tighter as the pain and longing welled up inside of him. He clenched his eyes tight as the fire grew in his chest- his breath hiccuping in sobs from the pain and the loss. It was hard to allow his chest to fall back into rhythm as the grief overtook him. The boy was still there- still alive- and well- and healthy-
But Andrew would never get to hold him again- or look into those gorgeous, dark eyes- or hold his hand with the painted nails- or watch another movie cuddled up on the couch and-
And god did it hurt.
It hurt more than anything he had felt. More than being whipped- or burned- or cut open- or beaten because this, this wasn’t a wound that could be closed up in a few days or patch with bandages.
He knew that for the rest of his life- the rest of his time with this man- that was a wound that would never close.
Andrew loved that boy.
He knew that now. The knowledge of never seeing him again, or getting those opportunities- it all only made him love Micah even more.
But now it would have to be like the stories of those greek gods- Only existing as the memories of constellations in the night sky.
I’m excited for this chapter- I’ve had this idea rooting around in my head for a while now. It’s sort of inspired by @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi’s machine in their tools series, and Febuwhump day 22: restrained. Chapter 47.Masterlist.
CW: broken ankles, mention of old wounds, chains, restraints, suspension, noncon touching (not sexual, just creepy), manhandling, medical whump, intubation, loss of bodily autonomy, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee. There’s kind of a lot going on in this so let me know if I should tag anything else.
- - -
His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. They blinked away old tears and blurred sight as he focused on a spot just to the left of the bright lights.
He could hear the clattering of metal. Splice had been fiddling with something across the room. And Andrew had been chained down far too many times to recognize what they sounded like.
The smell of dried blood and sweat was overpowered by that of chemicals- and he could taste them through the air in the back of his throat. His mouth hung open slightly- sort of panting to enable room for more breath, but his lips and tongue remained dry and sticky.
There was the coolness of the ground against his bare skin. It pressed against his back- against the old welts along his legs and the bruises bubbling underneath his skin.
Andrew had literally been crushed- burned- whipped- carved open-
What was a couple broken bones and sprained tissue compared to all that?
Andrew let his eyes droop closed. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing down in his ankles- pulsing with the blood in the already-swelling limbs. Nevermind that the rest of his body still ached- that he was bruised- that was nothing compared to feeling his bones shifting underneath the skin from where they were supposed to be. He felt like his skin would burst any moment from the stabbing ache of the pain.
Splice was fiddling with something across the room. From where Andrew lay he could see chains- cuffs, pieces of metal- random equipment. All lying about on the floor, or laid out carefully on a small, rolling cart.
“Well- I’m just about ready.”
The man had been “getting ready” for probably an hour or two now. But Andrew had no idea what that meant.
“Ready for- for what.” He asked- the words coming through between bursts of pain.
“For the next phase of my plan. You see, that’s why I took a little break from you. I was getting this ready.”
“What- what is it?”
The men stepped to the side- Andrew winced as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look. It looked like- it barely looked like anything.
“This is- hmm, well it’s, it’s a system I guess.” Splice stated. He paced around whatever the contraption was, as if staring at it more would help him explain it better. “A system of carefully planned equipment- for the main purpose of dependence. Complete and total dependence.”
“De- dependence?”
Andrew did not like the sound of that. He tried to shuffle closer to get a better look.
There was a series of chains- he counted- six of them in total, hanging from the ceiling. Three small platforms were bolted into the ground- nearly evenly spaced apart. They barely looked big enough for anything- just a thin rod, coming about waist height, with maybe a six inch square on the top. There was a drain underneath everything in the floor- a monitor to the side with a display- connected to the wall- and a few other smaller machines that were scattered about. From his position on the floor he couldn’t quite see all the things that were set on the cart- but he highly doubted it was food- or water- or clothes- or some other thing that would lessen his humiliation.
“Well come on.” Splice demanded. “Let’s try it out.”
Andrew looked down towards his feet- and then stared back at the man from across the room.
“Damn. I didn’t realize how inconvenient this would be.”
“I’m the one with my ankles broken.” Andrew spat. His comment was met with a slap across the face- sending him crashing into his shoulder on the floor. The stinging on his face was quickly drowned out by everything else as the man grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him across the room.
Andrew choked back on the pain- trying to breath through the shuddering gasps and the flares of agony. He felt the familiar end of a knife against his lips- and opened his eyes to see the man holding it out in front of him.
“You will learn to hold your tongue- or I will cut it out for you.”
Andrew swallowed- fury and rage bubbling inside of him like the fire coursing through his legs.
“I thought you liked me defiant.”
Splice took a step back- ignoring the comment and proceeded to grab some things about the room.
“It’s much more of an inconvenience now.”
Andrew felt cold metal lock around his wrists- far too tight to be comfortable, but not enough to cut off circulation. They seemed slightly padded too. Clearly the man intended him to be in these for a while.
“You will learn your place.”
Andrew let out a squeal- letting it die to hiss between his teeth as similar metal cuffs were locked around his swollen ankles. They were tighter than they should’ve been- causing the bruised skin to bubble around the metal like a blister wanting to pop.
He gasped out between breaths as the pain settled down once more, and then flinched with a shiver as cold hands crept around his waist- behind his back and near his stomach. Another band- sitting low against his hips. The man fiddled with it a little as he tried to get it to close but something wasn’t working.
“Did you gain weight?” The man asked in disbelief.
“Considering I actually had people encouraging me to eat, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“Hmm.”
Andrew grunted as his body was manhandled- hips turned to the side as the man struggled with the band. He knelt over the boy and Andrew closed his eyes- trying to imagine any different scenario than the one he was in. He let his mind wander- trailing off- and becoming distant- until he heard chains rattling above him.
He opened his eyes and watched as the man lowered them from the ceiling. They seemed to act like curtain blinds- extending when you pulled down on them- but then locking once they were raised.
It didn’t take long for Andrew to put the puzzle pieces together of what this whole contraption was. Six chains- six metal bands- including the one on his collar.
Andrew was correct in his assumption as each one of the chains pulled down to connect to the certain points of his body. They were nearly identical- except for the one around his waist- the chain branched out into two separate ones- connecting on the sides of his hips before forming back into one up to the ceiling.
He clenched his teeth behind a whimper as a chain was connected to the metal collar. He could feel the prongs digging deeper into his skin as his neck was pulled from the floor.
Splice laughed- the sound bouncing off the walls of the room as he stepped away- moving to the large monitor near the wall. Andrew’s eyes followed him desperately.
“Oh Andy- we’re only just getting started.”
And he felt his body begin to rise in the air.
Instant panic rushed through his chest as he felt his limbs being pulled in all sorts of directions. The flurry of butterflies that settled in his stomach as he completely separated from the ground was only drowned out by his own weight dragging down on his ankles.
His arms were pulled apart- stretched out in a t formation- the rest of him a straight line suspended above the ground.
Splice paced around the boy- running cold fingers along his ribs- down his arms- watching as shivers and goosebumps broke out across his skin. He chuckled to himself as Andrew tried to steady himself behind an uncontrolled whimper.
No wonder Splice had been gone for weeks- this seemed carefully designed and thought out. He didn’t sway- he didn’t really even feel unbalanced- everything was perfectly calculated to his weight, height, and measurements.
It terrified Andrew to realize exactly how much control the man had over him now.
“You see- my favorite part about this little contraption here, is it enables me to access you from all sides.”
Andrew flinched as a cold hand pressed against the small of his back. He was hanging just slightly above the man’s waist- and kept his eyes focused on the ceiling above him as hands trailed across his skin.
“Don- don’t touch me-” He murmured. It was small- and pathetic, but it was all he could do to make himself feel slightly better about the situation.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” The man stated. Andrew’s mouth gaped open- his head lolling backwards in a whine as a hand closed around his ankle. “I’m not the one in chains.”
He felt himself lowered slightly- until he felt his skin brushing against the small platforms- one at the base of his head just right above the collar- another at the small of his back, and the third one near his calves and ankles.
Andrew realized he had no choice except to let his body go limp as Splice continued setting everything up.
“How does it feel? Everything seem pretty stable?”
Andrew responded with a groan as the aches flared up in his body.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
There was a pressure around his bicep followed by a pinprick in his arm and he closed his eyes tight as he felt a needle slide inside his veins. Splice walked around him carefully- tracing a finger along his skin- and soon after there was another pinprick- a pressure and weight- and a small whimper at the thought of what could now be entered into his system.
Small patches were stuck across his chest- leading to cords and wires- monitors and screens. Ensuring Splice could make sure everything went smoothly.
Out of the corner of his eye Andrew could see another round circle of metal. This one had many wires coming from the sides- like antennae on an ant. Splice locked it around Andrew’s head, settling it in his hair and went back to the screen.
He hummed in disappointment, fiddled with a few things, and looked back at the monitor.
“That’s odd- it should be reading things just fine, but I’m not getting any strong brain waves.”
Andrew’s eyes darted to the man, and then closed tightly once more as hands came near his face.
The device was lifted off and set aside, and the man began to card his hands through Andrew’s hair. It was a curly mess- thick and unruly, but was arguably his best- or at least most noticeable feature. He had been growing it out and it hung well around his shoulders- leaving a thick crown of protection between his skull and his curls.
Splice chuckled as he watched Andrew’s face scrunch up at the intimate touch.
The boy’s heart began to pound as he heard the familiar click of the man’s knife being unsheathed. Andrew’s eyes shot open- trying to see what was about to happen.
Before Andrew could protest the knife hacked through the locks of hair without a second thought. Splice grabbed a fistful- carved through the curls, and let the chunks fall to the floor in a pile.
Andrew knew there was no use pleading or begging. Splice was going to get his way- and it was better if Andrew just let him do it. After all, there wasn’t going to be anyone else seeing him anymore, so what did it matter if he was missing chunks of hair?
Tears slid down from the sides of his face as he felt locks being hacked away and dropped in a pile. He tried to control his breathing once more but the sobs came through anyways in hiccuped breaths.
“Aww- don’t worry, it’s just hair.” Splice waved a chunk of it in front of the boy’s face- he tried to turn away. “It’ll grow back.”
“I hate you-” Andrew sobbed.
“It’s only necessary. You’ll learn to appreciate it later.” Andrew winced as another chunk was pulled tight and lopped off. “You’re lucky I didn’t shave you bald- your hair is one of your best features after all. Even if it has lost all of it’s color.”
When the man was done he trailed his fingers through what remained. It was uneven- messy, but it did what it was supposed to as the device finally worked correctly.
“We’re almost done.” The man cooed- trailing his fingers around the curve of the boys face. His pointer finger rested on Andrew’s lips carefully prying them apart. “Open up.” He ordered.
A large, funnel-shaped piece of plastic was placed inside his jaw. It wedged behind his teeth, pressing his tongue down and keeping his lips spread.
“This is the important part so I need you to hold still.”
It’s not like Andrew had much of a choice- but he tried to calm his shaking limbs as his head was arched backwards.
Andrew couldn’t have described the feeling of what happened next, even if he wanted to.
Something slid down his throat- a tube- feeling slimy and rough as he choked. His body knew this was wrong- it was telling him that it wasn’t supposed to be there- but there was nothing he could do. Splice fiddled with the tube- connecting it to the guard in his mouth and grabbed another tool- something that looked to be a long thing string of metal. Like the drain snakes with the claw on the end to pull hair out of the bathtub.
It had some weird contraption at the end that Andrew couldn’t make out.
“You can breathe- you’re alright.” The man reassured.
It took Andrew a second to realize that yes- he could still breathe. The air hissed raspy through his throat but his lungs still pumped just fine.
“Now- it is very vital that you continue breathing just as you should. Just stay relaxed, and breathe deep.” The man leaned down, holding the object a few inches from Andrew’s face as he whispered in his ear. “If you don’t, this is bound to hurt a lot worse.”
Andrew whimpered, and sent all the signals he could- closed his eyes tight and tried his best to breathe steady- ignoring whatever the man was going to do with his body next.
He felt the pressure going down his throat, inside the tube until it came out at the bottom inside of his chest.
Feeling something moving where it shouldn’t is indescribable.
Worse than feeling your broken bones shift underneath your skin. Worse than being cut open- lying awake with your insides exposed to the world- (at least that time he had been hyped up on a slew of drugs). This was far worse.
He felt the end of the tool- the end of something- wiggling around as the man bent over him, watching the screen.
Finally there was a burning sensation across his lungs. It was like they were being grabbed from the inside and lit on fire- or crushed in someone’s hand.
He found that he couldn’t scream.
As much as his heart began to pound- he was surprised that his breathing became normal.
Panic flooded all his senses and his lungs wanted to beat in time with his heart, but something wouldn’t allow them. He could barely cry or gasp- any attempt sent the same- crushing pain- coursing inside of him- and his breathing would soon returned to steady.
“Oh, I’m sure it feels a little strange for now, but you’ll get used to it.”
Andrew’s eyes darted to the man- as if pleading for an answer.
Splice spoke as he worked- his hands moving quickly around the boy.
“The machine is essentially breathing for you. The monitors and other machines will regulate everything else. Your body temperature- your nutrition- etc. It will keep you alive- so I can perform the experiments I need to.”
Andrew’s eyes clenched tight as the pain burst through him again- his breathing quickly slowing back down. Splice completed the ensemble with a guard over his face- covering his nose and mouth- the tubes threaded through the middle.
“I’ll administer some drugs and fluids, and then give you a few hours alone to get adjusted before we continue with what I have planned.”
The man carded his fingers gently through Andrew’s hair as he began inserting the drugs into the iv. The boy’s eyes stared up with a crushing amount of fear- and desperation. Unable to move- unable to breathe on his own. They were welled with tears that leaked from his face- but no sobs came through.
He closed his eyes once more- trying to relax into the submission the machine was demanding from him as the man walked out of the room, turning off the lights and leaving Andrew alone in the dark.
“Enjoy your new friend.”
And then there was nothing but the beeping of the machines- and the pounding of his own heart.
“Thanks for inviting us. A triple camping date was totally the best way to introduce Samson to everyone,” Victor says. He continues down the trail, holding his boyfriend’s hand. He is joined by Chaia and Maria and Kai and Juliet, both couples clasping hands as well.
“Of course. Maria and I love it here. It’s the only forest in the state she’s not allergic to,” Chaia responds. She stares down at her wife’s hands, unconsciously scanning them for hives.
A sudden noise rings out in the distance.
“What was that?” Juliet asks.
“I don’t know. It’s probably a bird,” Kai reassures her as the group turns right along the trail. To their right, a creek flows from the waterfall at the end of the trail.
“Hey, can we pause so that I can tie my shoelace?” Samson asks.
“Of course,” Victor replies. He reaches his arm out and leans against the trunk of a big oak tree.
The sound rings out again. This time, it’s noise is more distinctive. The sound is the firing of a crossbow.
“Everyone get down!” Kai shouts to the group. He crouches down and shouts into the distance, “We are people not game!”
Juliet is rushed down by Kai and Samson stays low to the ground after tying his shoe. Chaia is taken down by the sudden weakness of Maria.
“You know how I said that Maria doesn’t react to this forest? Well, I was wrong,” she says, laying Maria flat on the ground and opening her backpack. She pulls out an emergency kit containing Maria’s rescue meds, a pulse oximeter, and a blood pressure cuff. “Maria, what’s going on?”
“I feel faint and my arms are itchy.” Maria’s arms and face slowly turn a shade of bright red.
“Okay. I got you, Mar.” Chaia slides the blood pressure cuff onto Maria’s arm and clips the pulse oximeter onto Maria’s finger. She digs through the med bag and pulls out a box of benadryl. “Blood pressure is a little lower than normal, but I don’t think that you’re in anaphylaxis right now. Take this.” She hands her wife a bright pink chewable tablet.
“Wow, Chaia you are so good at this,” Kai remarks. He pauses for a moment, then says, “Where’s Victor?”
Victor’s legs remain near the tree he had leaned against, but his upper half had not lowered when the rest of the group ducked. Victor cannot duck, as his left hand has been impaled by the cross bow’s arrow and stuck to the tree. “Up here,” Victor manages, pained.
Samson and Kai rush to their feet to attend to Victor. “Oh, babe, that does not look good,” Samson remarks. “But we are gonna help you. How’s the pain?”
“Bad.”
“Can you wiggle your fingers?” Kai follows up.
Victor attempts to move his fingers against the blood-stained bark. He grimaces in pain. “Not really.”
“Okay,” Kai responds. “Chaia, do you have pain meds and an ace bandage in your bag?” “I’ve got both.” She digs through the bag and pulls the items out.
Samson lightly grasps Victor’s right hand. “As you probably know, it’s not safe to remove the arrow until we get you to the hospital, but we do need to detach you from the tree.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” Victor replies.
“We have to do it,” Samson replies, sending a knowing look to Kai.
Kai grasps the edge of the arrow while Samson pulls Victor into a restraining hug.
“No,” Victor pleads, as Kai lightly wiggles the arrow free of the tree.
“I need to move your hand up to ensure that it stays on the arrow when I remove it from the tree, okay?” Kai didn’t wait for Victor to respond. He slowly slid Victor’s hand up the arrow just enough for him to fit his hand between Victor’s hand and the tree. Victor cried out in pain.
“I know,” Samson whispers to Victor. “We’re almost done.” Sampson gives Victor a reassuring (and more restraining) squeeze.
“On tree, we move off the tree,” Kai tells Victor. He lightly laughs at his own joke. “Get it? Like three? No? Okay. One, two, tree.” He pulls the arrow out of the tree, making sure that Victor’s hand did not come off the arrow. Once again, Victor screamed in pain.
“All done,” Samson told Victor. We’re gonna wrap it to hold the arrow in place and you can take some ibuprofen for right now. Let’s take this triple date to the hospital,” he says, watching Chaia help Maria to her feet.
Trigger Warnings – Also Tagged: Collapse, Medical Devices
WC: 1078
Without further ado…
————–
“What was that?”
“What?”
“The thud at the door.”
“I don’t know. You should probably check it out.”
“Me? Fine.” Juliet got off of the couch and headed to the door of the apartment. She peered through the peephole. Instead of finding the expected head at eye level, she saw a woman’s body splayed across the carpeted hallway floor. “Anna! Call 9-1-1 and meet me out here! NOW!” Juliet unbolted the door and rushed to the woman’s side. As both Anna and Kai had told her, the first thing Juliet did was check her pulse and her breathing. Juliet placed her teal-painted fingertips against the side of the woman’s neck and held her ear over the woman’s rising chest. Pulse? There and rapid. Breathing? There and that’s all that Juliet could tell.
Anna rushed over to the scene and knelt beside the woman. Anna placed her phone next to the woman’s head. “Juliet, any info?”
“Breathing and heart’s beating,” Juliet replied as if the phrase had been drilled into her as a child. “Pulse is rapid and I haven’t checked for identifying info.” Juliet scanned the woman for a wallet or a phone. At Anna’s feet, Juliet spotted a bright blue puff–a key chain. “Anna, keys, 11 o’clock.”
Anna picked the keys up. On the ring was a tag with the number 302 on it. Unit 302 was just down the hall. “Juliet, this is our new neighbor. Can you check if someone’s home? They might have more info.”
“Yeah.” Juliet sprinted down the hall and arrived at the door of unit 302. She knocked and got no response. So she knocked harder and longer.
A man came to the door. “How can I help you?”
“Your, uh, roommate collapsed in front of my apartment.”
“Demetra? Oh my gosh. Have you called an ambulance?”
“EMS is on their way. Can you tell us anything about her medical history? Do you want to come see her?” Juliet stepped back to allow the man to walk into the hallway. “By the way, my name is Juliet. My roommate, Anna, is a nurse. She is down there with Demetra.”
The man grabbed his phone from the kitchen table behind him and stepped out into the hallway. “Omar. Nice to meet you.”
They wandered down the hallway. “Anna, this is Omar,” Juliet said.
Anna looked up at Omar and gave a half smile. She shifted her gaze to Juliet. “Can you please grab my stethoscope, the pulse oximeter, the glucometer, and some alcohol swabs? Just grab the whole emergency kit and my purse.”
As Juliet ran off into the apartment, Omar knelt next to Demetra. “That’s a lot of things. Is she okay?” He cradled Demetra’s left hand against his chest.
“She’s alive and has no signs of major injury or trauma. I’m just not sure what’s wrong with her, and I have no clue why she collapsed,” Anna responded, keeping her voice level yet calm.
Juliet emerged from her apartment with a pink purse slung across her shoulder and the white box of the emergency kit in her hands. She passed the kit into Anna’s hands and placed the purse to the right of Anna’s feet. Juliet crouched down next to the purse. “What can I do?” Anna passed the pulse oximeter to Juliet. “Place this on one of her fingers.” Juliet did as she was told and slipped the clip over Demetra’s right ring finger. Anna pulled her bright pink stethoscope from her purse and placed its diaphragm on Demetra’s chest. She looked up at Omar. “Her breathing is okay.”
Omar nodded. “I should’ve been with her.”
Anna shifted her gaze back to Omar. She had picked up Demetra’s right hand and begun wiping it with the alcohol swab. “What do you mean?”
“Her American friends had taken her out to do something for the wedding. I can’t remember the word for it in English, but her friends insisted that I didn’t come.” Omar twisted Demetra’s engagement ring around her finger.
Juliet perked up. “The dress,” she said. “There’s a big belief here that seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding is bad luck.”
“Yes, that’s it,” Omar replied. “I am so sorry, Demetra normally helps me when I forget the words for things.”
Anna reached across Demetra and placed her hand on Omar’s. “It’s okay. You are doing just fine.” She switched her attention to the phone next to Demetra’s head. “Hey, dispatch, how’s that ambulance coming?”
A voice came from the phone and said, “About a minute. Omar, congratulations on the wedding. If you don’t mind me asking, what other languages do you speak?”
“Uzbek and Greek,” Omar responded.
“That’s really cool,” the 911 dispatcher replied. “How did you meet Demetra?”
“I’m from Uzbekistan and I went to Greece for university. Demetra is from Greece and went to the US for university.” Omar paused as sirens coming from outside crescendoed and then suddenly stopped. “We met during the summer in Athens five years ago. Demetra wanted to go back to the US to be with her friends and I was accepted to graduate school, and now we live here.”
Just as Omar finished, Kai rushed a stretcher down the hall to where the group had crowded around Demetra. Kai glanced at his radio and then down at Anna’s phone next to Demetra’s head. “Dispatch, this is medic Kai Himona, I’ve got it from here.” He shifted his attention to Demetra and grabbed the yellow backboard from the stretcher. Juliet and Anna instinctively cleared their side to make way for Kai. He carefully lifted Demetra’s side and slid the backboard under her.
Anna locked eyes with Kai. “On three?” She waited for Kai to nod in return. “One, two, three.” The two grabbed opposite sides of the backboard and lifted Demetra to the stretcher. As they moved away, Omar dropped Demetra’s hand. Anna raced back to Juliet, who had started to repack Anna’s pink purse. Anna gathered her things and took the purse out of Juliet’s hands. “Thanks.”
Juliet followed Anna back to where Kai had stationed the stretcher. She kissed Kai on the cheek and was promptly cut off by Anna.
“I’ll brief you on her situation en route,” Anna said to Kai. “And thanks for the ride to work.” She turned to Omar. “Omar, you can come too.”
“Okay.” He joined Kai and Anna as they wheeled Demetra down the hall and to the ambulance.
This is, of course, a RSS story for @brutal-nemesis’s Plant Day 2021.
And please don’t kill me, but I kinda feel like I bent the rules here. The assailant here is not a fungus or protist. It is a part of the plant kingdom, but not like that.Anyway, on to the story part of this.
Trigger Warnings – also tagged: choking, alcohol, knives, blood, surgery
WC: 897
———-
“911, what is your emergency?”
A panicked voice came from the other end of the phone. “My boyfriend is choking and we can’t get it out!”
“Okay. Where are you?”
“Middle of the quad at OakU.”
“Any landmarks nearby?” “Across the street from the ADG house.”
Victor entered the location into his computer and pulled up a map of the OakU campus. “Okay, help is on the way. My name is Victor. And you are?” “Raegan.” “Okay, Raegan. You said that your boyfriend is choking?”
“Yeah,” Raegan said, panic once again rising in her voice.
“And you tried the heimlich?” Victor asked.
“Yeah. It didn’t work. One of my friends tried that and they tried smacking his back. Nothing helped.”
“Okay. What is his name?”
“Hugo.”
“Raegan, put me on speaker.” Victor paused briefly as he waited for Raegan to oblige. “Okay, Hugo, if you can hear me, please give Raegan a thumbs up.”
Hugo barely moved. He was rocking back and forth, his arms slowly reaching at his neck, but his hands made no attempt to show Raegan a thumbs up. His olive skin slowly grew bluer.
On the other end of the phone, a message popped up on Victor’s computer. EMS was on the way, but Raegan and Hugo were not accessible by road. It would be at least 15 minutes until help could arrive.
Victor’s attention was pulled back to the call when Raegan began screaming.
“Victor, he’s not moving anymore! How much longer?”
“Your location is pretty far from any roads, so it’ll be 15-20 minutes. Can you try the heimlich again?” Victor pulled out his phone and texted Kai.
“I know you’re off, but I need help. College age male choking. Heimlich not helping. EMS 15-20 out. I am conferencing you in.”
Kai responded with a thumbs up and Victor entered his number into the console. “Raegan,” Victor said, “this is my friend Kai. He is a paramedic. He is going to help you.”
Kai cleared his throat into the phone. “Raegan, can you tell me exactly what happened?”
Raegan sighed as tears made their way from her eyes to her chin. “I was working on a project for my photography class. It was, uh, humans in nature. We were doing a shoot and Hugo decided he wanted a picture biting an acorn. I got a couple shots and then he tripped over a tree root. He must’ve swallowed the acorn and it got stuck because he can’t breathe and it’s not between his teeth anymore.”
Kai took a deep breath. “I am going to recommend something crazy, but it should save Hugo, alright? I think that you should attempt a field cricothyrotomy.”
“You want me to cut open my boyfriend’s neck?” “Raegan, it will save his life,” Victor said. “Now, before I ask you this, I want to remind you that these calls are recorded, but I do want to help.” He paused. “Does someone over the age of 21 in the ADG house have alcohol, a knife, and a straw?”
“Yeah,” Raegan responded, but it wasn’t entirely true. She always carried a pocket knife and metal straw, and she had filled her water bottle with vodka at a party the night before. Victor didn’t need to know where it came from.
“Raegan, I need you to sterilize everything. Dump the alcohol on your hands, his neck, the knife, and the straw,” Victor commanded.
Raegan carefully poured the alcohol out of her bottle, through the straw, and onto her hands, her knife, and Hugo’s neck. “Done,” she said, putting her phone on speaker and placing next to Hugo’s short, scruffy black hair.
Kai took a breath and began to instruct Raegan. “Raegan, you are going to find the cricothyroid membrane, it is–”
“In that indentation below the Adam’s Apple,” Raegan finished.
“Yes,” Kai said with a slight bit of surprise in his voice.
“You sound surprised,” Raegan responded. “I find that knowing human anatomy is incredibly important to my art.”
“Alright then,” Kai continued, “You are going to make a 1-inch long incision. You are going to drive your knife in until you feel a bit of a pop. That means you are in the trachea.”
Raegan squeezed her eyes shut before busting them open again. She grasped the handle of her pocket knife and slid the blade across her boyfriend’s olive-colored skin. Dark red blood oozed from the opening. At the center of the incision, Raegan pushed down on the knife until she felt something different than the feeling of slicing through fascia and muscle. She slid her finger into the cavity and there certainly was a hole in something. “Done,” she informed Kai and Victor as she pulled her finger out of Hugo’s neck.
“Slip the straw into the hole in the trachea and take a breath into it,” Kai instructed.
Raegan slid her metal straw into the hole that had just held her finger. She wrapped her lips around her purple silicone straw topper. She gently exhaled through the straw. Surprised, she pulled back when she saw Hugo’s chest rise in his green hoodie. “He is breathing!” she exclaimed.
“Good,” Victor said. “Paramedics are about 5 minutes out. I can stay with you until they get there, okay?” “Thank you,” Raegan replied softly. She buried her face into Hugo’s shoulder. Her tears joined the bloodstains on his hoodie.
This is also a combined (ooh snazzy) sequel to Ice DayandKneecap Day. This work can stand on its own, but some characters make more sense in the context of the past two fics.
And of course, this is a RSS story for @brutal-nemesis’s Spiral Day 2021.
Trigger Warnings–also tagged: Hospitals
———-
“Jaydyn, you said that your cousin is Chaia Glassman, right?” Anna asked.
Without looking up from his hospital crossword, Jaydyn replied, “Yeah. Why?”
“Just making sure.” Anna replied, trying to not sound conspicuous. She walked over to the entrance to the ED, where a stretcher lay in wait. “Bring her over to trauma 2,” Anna commanded.
Chaia hadn’t said a word since the ambulance left the lake. Lucy had agreed to let Maria sit on the stretcher with Chaia when they got to the hospital. Maria’s hand reached into the metallic blob at the head of the stretcher.
Upon their arrival at the trauma bay, Maria jumped off the stretcher. “Hey, lifey,” she said, “we need to move you again.”
Chaia squirmed in Aaron’s arms as he lifted her from the stretcher to the exam table. Chaia kept her legs unusually still, which, while concerning, helped Aaron stay safe during the transfer.
Anna walked over and peeled the metallic warming blanket off Chaia’s cold, wet body. “Chaia, it’s Anna,” she said in a slow soft voice. She slipped her hand into her pants pocket, discreetly pulling out her pen light. “Can you look at me?” Chaia didn’t budge. She kept her head firmly in her soaked sweater. “Please?” Anna tried again, sliding her free hand under Chaia’s chin. As Anna gently tilted Chaia’s head to face out, the movement caused Chaia’s eyes to open. They were open just long enough for Anna to shine the penlight and confirm that Chaia’s pupils were reactive. “It’s over,” Anna assured Chaia, sliding the light back into her pants pocket. “What do you say we get you out of these wet clothes?” Anna bent into a white cabinet next to the exam table and grabbed a dotted hospital gown and patient belonging bag.
Maria placed herself at the foot of the exam table and grasped Chaia’s hands. “Up, up,” she said, gently tugging on Chaia’s arms to sit her upright. With Chaia sitting slumped slightly forward, Maria reached down to the bottom of Chaia’s sweater and began to pull it up and off of her wife. She slipped Chaia’s wet, curly head out of the neck hole and pulled the sweater off Chaia’s arms. Maria shifted to Anna, trading the wet sweater for the hospital gown. Anna placed the sweater in the patient belongings bag. Maria draped the gown over Chaia and buttoned the back snaps. She gently lowered Chaia to a resting position on the exam table.
“Now, let’s get those skates off.” Anna grabbed a pair of scissors and walked down to Chaia’s feet. She easily unlaced Chaia’s left skate and slid it off her wet foot. She swapped Chaia’s sopping wet wool sock for a bright red hospital sock and carefully placed the skates on the floor away from the table. Chaia’s right foot, on the other hand, was a bit more complicated. The right skate was entangled in green slimy plants and looked to be filled by a larger foot than the left skate. Anna cut through the mangled lakeweed to expose the skate’s laces. She carefully untied the bunny ears knot and began to unthread the laces from the eyelets.
At the second eyelet pair, Chaia whimpered and thrust a flapping hand toward her foot. Maria took hold of the hand and placed it against her sweater. “I’m right here, lifey. Squeeze when it hurts.”
Anna returned to meticulously unlacing the skates. As the unlacing neared the ankle bend, Chaia seemed increasingly agitated. Her whimpers turned to moans. Tears made their way down her still-puffy face. She finally managed a single word. “Stop,” she said weakly.
“I’m almost done,” Anna assured Chaia. She sighed and picked up the scissors. She loosened the remaining laces and cut down the middle. “Okay. I am going to take the skate off in three, two, one.” Anna placed one hand on Chaia’s shin and the other under Chaia’s heel. She braced Chaia’s leg and pulled the skate off.
As soon as her foot was free, Chaia folded into a ball.
Anna looked over at Maria. “I need to talk to you out here,” she said, pointing towards the center of the ED.
Maria planted a kiss on Chaia’s head. “I’ll be right back.” She joined Anna beyond the end of the side curtain of the trauma bay.
Jaydyn had heard the chaos on the other side of the curtain and was getting curious, so it was surprising when Maria appeared from the other side of the curtain. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Um.” Maria paused. She pulled back the curtain separating Jaydyn and Chaia’s sections of trauma treatment. “Ice skating accident.”
“Wh- what happened?” Jaydyn asked. He was shocked to see his cousin crumpled almost entirely into a pathetic wet ball. The only exception, of course, was Chaia’s bright purple ankle, which rested against the white sheet on the exam table.
At that moment, Rory walked in and headed for the back wall, where the portable X-ray had been left. “I am so glad that radiology forgot this here today. Oh, and, uh, Jaydyn, your surgery is scheduled for 2:30. They’ll come by to get you prepped shortly.” Rory grabbed the X-ray and headed over to Chaia.
Maria looked over at Jaydyn. “Surgery?”
Jaydyn nodded. “Something about taking out whatever is left of my kneecap. That’s not important right now. I need to help Chaia.” He glanced over at Chaia, who was doing a lousy job of telling Rory to get away from her. Jaydyn shifted forward in his hospital bed, but was promptly stopped by Anna.
“You, sir, are not getting up,” she commanded. “However, I can wheel you over there.” Anna walked to the head of Jaydyn’s bed and unlocked the brakes on the wheels. Slowly, she pushed the bed to align with Chaia’s. She locked the brakes.
“Chaia, it’s me, Jaydyn. Do you wanna hold my hand?” Jaydyn reached for Chaia’s flapping hand.
Chaia uncrumpled and rotated to look Jaydyn in the eyes. “Hey, loser,” she mumbled.
Rory let out an exasperated sigh. “Chaia, I know it hurts, but please stop moving for a minute.”
Jaydyn saw the pain and fear in Chaia’s eyes. “Look at me,” he said. “I have no clue what I am going to tell your mom. Or my mom.” He let out a little laugh. “Oh gosh, what am I going to tell Bubbe? How am I supposed to explain that her two grandchildren got injured in unrelated accidents at the same time?” He waited for Chaia to react but got nothing. “Come on, it is kinda funny.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jaydyn saw Rory pull X-ray images up on the computer. “So, Dr. Byrne, what’s the good word?”
“So, Chaia,” Dr. Byrne started, but he didn’t have Chaia’s attention. She was numbly staring at the ceiling over Jaydyn’s shoulder. However, a short nudge on Jaydyn’s part brought her focus over to Rory’s computer. Rory continued, “it appears that you have a spiral fracture in your Talus bone, which is in your ankle.” He used his cursor to circle an area of white bone with a black line down the middle. “There is some good news. It has remained stable and does not require surgery. Your body temperature appears to be steady and normal, so we just need to focus on getting a cast on that leg. Okay?”
With her free hand, Chaia reached for Maria, who immediately took hold. Chaia locked eyes with Rory and gave him an unsure nod.
“I need some help!” a young woman screams into the ED waiting room.
Anna rushes a wheelchair over to the frantic young woman, who is supporting a similarly-aged man. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
“He hadn’t had any water in a couple of hours and he collapsed from dehydration during study group. I got him some water to drink, but Bram decided to challenge him to a chugging contest, and now he’s been coughing and spitting up water for 15 minutes.”
“Okay. Let’s get him in the wheelchair. What’s his name?”
“M-ma-max. It’s Max. I’m, um, Malin. We’re twins, but I’m a whole hour older.”
“Okay,” Anna says, helping Max into the wheelchair. “Come with me.” She pushes Max through the entry to the ED and helps Max onto a bed. “Dr. Byrne!” Anna calls out. “I’ve got a college-age male with a possible laryngospasm or pulmonary edema!”
“Get him on Oxygen and keep him calm. I’m on my way and paging respiratory.”
“What does that mean?” Malin asks tentatively.
“He might be reacting to water in his lungs. You may have heard it be called delayed drowning.”
Dr. Byrne meets Kai at the entrance to the ED. “What’s up?”
“Jack Brooks. 40-year-old male collapsed with sudden severe chest pain and shortness of breath a couple hours after playing football with his kids. Wife and kids are on their way over. Sats holding in the mid-80s, heart rate at 120, pressure at 130/90.”
Dr. Byrne glances over at Dr. Howell. “Alright. Bring him to trauma two. I need ultrasound.” He walks along the stretcher and helps Kai transfer Jack to the bed. “Okay, Mr. Brooks,” he says, squirting some ultrasound gel onto the probe, “my name is Dr. Byrne. I am here to help you. Now, this is going to be a bit cold, but it’ll help me get a better sense of what is going on.” He pushes the probe into Jack’s chest.
Jack flinches in pain. His breaths are heavy and strained. “Can’t breathe,” he pants out.
Dr. Howell appears behind Dr. Byrne. She grabs an Oxygen mask from behind the gurney and places it over Jack’s face. She looks over at the ultrasound screen. “Dr. Byrne, what do we see here?”
“That looks like a pneumothorax.” Dr. Byrne spies Jack’s blank expression out of the corner of his eye. “It means you have a collapsed lung. My recommendation for your current situation is a needle aspiration of the pleural cavity. This procedure can be done right here, right now, but it’s a bit uncomfortable. Do we have your consent to proceed?”
Victor presses his hands into his sister’s bleeding neck. “How much longer?” he asks the paramedic.
“We’re there,” the medic responds. The ambulance’s lights and sirens die down. The paramedic jumps out the front and opens the back two doors.
The other paramedic, Elissa, slowly pushes the stretcher out the back of the ambulance, where it is stabilized by the first paramedic. Victor remains on top of the stretcher, straddling his sister’s body, hands pressed into the towel on her neck. Elissa pushes the stretcher through the ambulance entrance doors.
“Clare Sosa, 27-year-old female with severe neck laceration and carotid trauma,” Elissa calls out. “Heart rate is 125 and BP is at 80/54 and dropping. Pressure has been applied to the wound for,” she shifts her gaze to Victor.
“28 and a half minutes,” he finishes.
A small group of doctors and nurses in yellow trauma gowns approach the stretcher. One of them asks, “Is she conscious?” “In and out,” Victor replies, his eyes meeting a familiar face in the crowd.
“Victor,” Samson calls out, making his way forward in the rush. “3, and then straight to the OR,” he tells Elissa, walking alongside her. Samson turns to a nurse. “Maven, page Dr. Riley. Get him down here stat. Oh and call the blood bank. We’ll need as many units of O neg as we can get our hands on.”
“Aren’t you also a trauma surgeon?” Maven responds.
“I am, but I will need the help. Thank you,” Samson fires back. Maven splits from the group as they pass the nurse’s station. Samson unwraps gauze and hands it to another nurse. “Opal, when we get to three, you’re gonna switch out with Victor, okay?”
“Yes,” Opal says.
“I can’t leave her,” Victor pleads.
The group stops at ED bay 3, where Dr. Riley has appeared. “What is the matter Dr. Buhle?” he asks.
“Carotid trauma,” Samson replies. “I need you to take a look and start the surgery. There is something more immediate I need to take care of.” Samson gazes at Victor. “On the count of three, you are going to get off of your sister and lift the towel. Dr. Riley will take a look and Opal will resume pressure on the wound. Then they’ll take her up to surgery. Ready?”
“No.”
“Victor, you have to do this. Please take my hand and get down.” Samson extends his arm. “Please let us do our jobs.”
Victor takes his boyfriend’s hand. He slowly climbs down from the stretcher and lifts his hand, but he leaves the towel. Samson doesn’t care about the towel. He helps Victor to a nearby chair.
Dr. Riley peeks under the towel and signals to Opal to resume pressure on the wound. He grasps the stretcher and begins wheeling it to the OR.
Samson peels his gloves off and gets Victor a hand wipe. He slowly wipes the blood off of Victor’s hands and allows them to wrap around his yellow gown into a tight embrace. Samson hugs back. “We are going to do everything we can,” he reassures Victor. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Victor says, his voice breaking. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.” He sobs into Samson’s shoulder. “I just heard a noise, so I went to check on her, and I found her like this.”
“That’s okay. She’s in good hands. It’s gonna be okay.” Samson ignores the page that he knows is from Dr. Riley.
After a violent kidnapping, your character wakes up with amnesia. They’re sick and injured but the person who ‘rescued’ them seams so nice...
Except they just keep making your character worse and worse - never truly healing them or making them better. Perhaps every now and then, they reopen wounds; re-break bones and feed them something that makes them purposefully sick.
It takes your character a shameful amount of time to realise something is wrong… but the caretaker is looking after them so well, and is so considerate - maybe they are getting better, just slowly?
However, the secret gets revealed when your characters condition turns dire, (perhaps after an infection/incorrect dosage) and the caretaker is forced to take them to the hospital.
The staff immediately recognise them as a missing person.
When they go to confront your character, the caretaker is there, pulling out wires and tubes - your characters pulse and oxygen alarms blare.
“You’re making them worse!” They cry, convinced they are the only person allowed to be your characters doctor.
