#no anesthesia

[whump-witch]

One teammate/caretaker holding whumpee down while the other pulls shrapnel out of whumpee's flesh.

(or sets whumpee's broken bone or gives whumpee stitches or cauterizes a wound or performs any number of other painful procedures)

[paeon-pestifus]

hhellooo...... I am Paeonnn............ i was a medical practionerr in the upper ccittyy... but I'm afraid i no longer ressside theree.

i ussee any pronounss. they're all fun. :)

oo ooc stuffg. hey guys its me . the sillie @/tentss previously @/thetentsystem no im not maintagging i. it annoys me when i do..... .. .. . . anywaysss! hope u enjooyy

tags

#medical assistanccce - talking to other blogs #healing the city - asks!! #they were framed - talking to buck or jaguar joe. #it is not acid - regular posts!! #no anesthesia - out of character

[whumppmuhw]

Whumptober Day 14: No anesthesia

tw: medical whump, noncon surgery, surgery without anesthesia, intimate whumper, noncon touching (non-sexual), blood eehehehe I love this prompt and trope good shit right there

Whumper made the first incision, right down the middle, collarbone to navel. Whumpee had too many restraints to squirm. Their gag prevented them from screaming. Whumper soaked up as much blood as they could. Then came the second incision, across the abdomen, right under the rib cage. Again, Whumpee could do nothing. Whumper reached inside Whumpee with a gloved hand. They were careful not to displace Whumpee's organs, but it felt good to have a hold on Whumpee that they previously couldn't attain. Whumper's main purpose for the procedure was research and curiosity, but beyond that was a longing for the intimacy that came with being inside of someone. Whumper had fantasized of organs and bones and muscles all in his grip, Whumpee helpless as they took control of Whumpee at a deeper, more physical level. Whumper took his hand out of Whumpee. They removed that hand's glove and changed it to a fresh, sterile one. With their other hand they picked up a small camera. "Hold still," Whumper instructed, "and breathe easy. This next part will go much smoother if you cooperate." Whumpee's panicked, rapid breaths through their nose slowed to deep, full ones. Whumpee became less tense and Whumper muttered a "mhm, just like that," as they prepared for what was next. Whumper lifted the flaps of skin up one by one, taking pictures of Whumpee's internal structure. They could see Whumpee trying their hardest to stay calm as Whumper temporarily shifted things around. Whumper could only imagine what it felt like for their patient. Whumpee was scared in a way they never had been. Whumper had crossed a boundary that Whumpee never imagined being crossed, and every time Whumper touched their insides with that gentle, yet controlling touch of theirs, Whumpee felt a shiver go up their spine. One side of Whumpee felt the pain of the invasive surgery and the restraints digging in, and wanted to lash out, to scream for Whumper to stop every time they felt Whumper's touch in a place it shouldn't be. Whumpee's other side recognized that course of action wasn't possible, and instead kept as still and calm as they could so Whumper could finish up faster. Whumper had to admit to themself, this was fun. Not only were they learning about human anatomy in a direct and fascinating way, but who better to operate on then their very own Whumpee, who just couldn't say no! Whumper oohed and ahhed at seeing the human body laid out before them like this. They wished they could keep Whumpee open like this for days as they took a plethora of pictures and notes and felt the thrill that came with holding Whumpee's insides. Whumper finished taking the pictures and observations they wanted an hour after the procedure began, and set down their camera. To finish, they placed both hands on the two sides of Whumpee's rib cage, fingers gently stroking bones, and felt Whumpee's chest rise and fall with each breath alongside their beating heart. "Thank you, Whumpee," Whumper said quietly, like they were sharing a secret. "This has been a very pleasant and educational time for me. Your body is beautiful, truly something to marvel at." Whumpee wanted to squirm at that comment and Whumper's hands, a knot twisting in their stomach. "Don't be afraid, I've taken great care to make sure everything's still where it's supposed to be. Once I've stitched you up, it'll be like this never happened. Though I bet you and I won't forget." Whumper removed his hands from Whumpee's chest, then put on a new set of gloves and picked up a needle and thread. They moved back to Whumpee and began the meticulous process of putting them back together again. Whumpee hated the pain and wished it would be over. They knew Whumper was putting stitches in, their work done, but the constant piercing from the needle and the pulling of the thread was getting to be too much. Whumpee tried to yell out and failed. Whumper acknowledged this. "Don't be so impatient, this won't take long." They were nearing the end of the first incision and would soon stitch up the second.

A few minutes later, going by quickly for Whumper and painfully slow for Whumpee, the stitching was finished. Whumper breathed a sigh of relief at a job well done; Whumpee at the end of a horrible trial. Whumper took off Whumpee's gag and took their camera and notes journal to their study, leaving Whumpee to recover and take some deep breaths. Whumpee could feel the ghosts of Whumper's hands in their body, and they felt icky. Neither of them would forget that day.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Captive

ai-less whumptober 2023 day 14- no anesthesia fandom- Danny phantom TW- electrical shock, improper medical stuff summary- Danny is a captive of the GIW

ao3 ailesswhumpotber23 masterlist part 2 of SIANT

Danny woke to the lights in the room where he was held turning on. His hold body still ached from what they had done. The injuries were still there, though no longer bleeding. With the collar on, his healing hardly worked.

He flinched back as Agent E stopped in front of him.

Agent E sighed. “Don’t make this more difficult for yourself, Phantom.”

“Please… Please no more. I can’t– I– Please no more.”

“It will be easier if you cooperate.”

Danny whimpered, but didn’t resist as the agent reached in, dragging him out and dumping him in the rolling cage. He didn’t say anything for a while, but he could feel the terror clawing at his throat and his hands scrabbled uselessly at his chest.

His breathing picked up as they neared the door they’d gone through yesterday.

“Will they put me to sleep?” Danny said frantically. “Since I didn’t resist.”

“You mean, will they use anesthesia?”

Danny nodded.

Agent E snorted. “Why would they do that? Anesthesia and pain medicine are for humans, and who knows if it would even work on you? It would just be a waste. Besides, anesthesia is mainly used to keep patients from moving during a procedure. But you don’t have to worry about that, they’ll make sure to use enough restraints to keep you from wiggling too much.”

As the door opened, Danny’s panic escalated.

“No! No, no, nononononononono!”

He pressed himself against the bottom of the cage as hands reached for him, and Danny heard the quiet click of the remote's button being pushed.

Danny tasted blood as his body seized from the electricity. He only came back to himself as he was being strapped back onto the table. 

His breathing was coming quickly and he felt out of touch with his body as the scientists manipulated his limbs into the restraints.

Restraints were added to his wrists, upper arms, ankles, legs, waist, neck, forehead, and across chest. By the time they were done Danny could hardly move.

They put him through what Danny thought was an MRI machine and then took what were maybe some x-rays.  He heard the scientists muttering amongst each other, but Danny’s ears were ringing and he couldn’t make anything out.

Then they were standing over him again, and he could make some of the words out.

“Fascinating.”

“Yes. Who knew some could develop such complex mimicries of the human system.”

“He’s got mimics of the complete organ system and the skeleton.”

“I think we’ll just start with some bone marrow samples today. If it even has any bone marrow.”

“Agent E, could you help us turn him over?”

Danny tried to flinch back as the agent approached him, but the restraints wouldn’t allow it.

“I suggest you don’t resist, Phantom. Unless you want me to activate the collar again.”

“Please…”

“You’ll be fine. They're just checking for bone marrow. It’s not their fault you decided to have such complex mimicry.”

“But–” 

The agent held up the remote, and Danny shut his mouth.

He didn’t resist as they took off the restraints.

He didn’t resist as they turned him over.

He didn’t resist as they strapped him back in.

“Please…” he whimpered and was ashamed of himself as tears slipped out.

He felt someone run their fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, and he couldn’t resist leaning into the touch. “You’ll be okay, Phantom. Don’t move, and it will be over soon.”

Then the needle pierced his flesh and Danny screamed.

The fingers kept running through his hair.

[catwings-writes-things]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Lynette isn’t a doctor anymore. Too bad there’s a patient here to see her anyway.

[itsleelove]

TW: Shot by arrow, no anesthesia

"We've got a man down over here!" Caretaker called across the field, dropping to the ground beside the person. "Hey, can you hear me, soldier? What's your name?" They slid the helmet off the person.

"M-my names Whumpee." They started to sit up, seemingly stirred by the sudden activity. "I-I'm okay— I-I—"

"Woah, woah, woah! Please don't move." Caretaker held them down.

" 'm f-f-fine... I-I—"

"You've been shot. Don't try and get up."

"Sh... shot..?"

A medic arrived quickly getting to work at cutting Whumpee’s armor off. "Hey, can you look at me? Good. Okay. Tell me your name?"

"M-my name..?" Whumpee paused, staring up at the sky. "... I-I... My name is W-Whumpee."

"Okay, good. Can you tell me a bit about yourself, Whumpee?" Medic continued methodically cutting away the armor. "Caretaker, can you keep them in conversation? Whumpee, what's your favorite color? Can you talk to Caretaker?"

"F-favorite color... G-green..."

"What makes green your favorite color?" Caretaker asked, brushing a stray lock of hair from Whumpee’s eyes.

"I-I... mmm..." Whumpee’s eyes started to close a little.

"Hey, hey, hey. Stay with me."

Medic removed the last piece of armor. "Whumpee? Hey, you're almost done. We've just got to get this arrow out. M'kay?"

"O-okay..." Whumpee murmured.

"Do you have any siblings?" Caretaker brushed through Whumpee’s hair, hoping the touch would help ground them.

"Yeah... T-two sisters."

"Okay, Whumpee, this is going to hurt, but I'm going to get the arrow out now. Caretaker, you may need to hold them down. Can you do that?"

Caretaker nodded.

Whumpee whimpered as Medic started to work. They gasped as Medic began to move the arrow out, raising their hands reflexively to stop Medic.

Caretaker caught them.

"Ah! I-i-it hu-hurts!"

"Shhh..." Caretaker soothed, holding Whumpee’s hands. "I know it hurts, but it's going to be okay. You can squeeze my hands if it'll help distract you."

Whumpee squeezed Caretaker’s hands tightly and gave another weak cry of pain as Medic finished removing the arrow and pressed clean bandages against the wound.

Whumptober #17

Field Care

('Please don't move')

[10ths-writing-corner]

Febuwhump #8- No anesthesia

Mafia AU

“Listen, you need to sit— Gah-!” Bullets hit the wall, the shots echoing on the other side of the room. Henrik flips a table and covers the door, hoping that’ll hold for as long as he needs to. He then rushes back to were Jameson sat, him putting his gun away to take out his gloves. “Show me it. Now.”

Jameson briefly glared at the man, instead of listening to his command he just smacked his hand away. The boss checked his gun and how many bullets he had left though he found himself reloading it. “Get out of my way. That’s an order.” Jameson said through clenched teeth.

“I cannot do that, sir.” Henrik shot back. “You are bleeding heavily, I need to shut the wound! More importantly, I need to remove the bullet which I am sure its caught in your ribs.” The doctor doesn’t wait for permission from the mafia boss and begins to dispose of his blazer, his icy blues widening as soon as they land on the bright crimson splotch on his white shirt. He cursed under his breath now realizing how much time they had wasted. Henrik quickly unbuttoned his shirt and began cleaning out the blood as best as he could.

“Schneeplestein, get out of the way!”

Even with the outburst Henrik didn’t flinch or move. Instead he slammed his handkerchief on Jameson’s hand. “I need to remove the bullet now. If we wait to get to the manor you will not survive. Bite on this now, this will hurt a lot, unless you have any anesthetic on you.”

[littlemissagrafina]

Pain Drain Vegas

A gift for my Boo @call-me-coley

(Also, big thank you to @justt-ppeachy for your help!)

Inspired by Febuwhump Day 8. No Anesthesia

Summary: Stiles gets hurt during a fight with the pack but a few handy pain drains and a certain nurse and vet save the day.

Read on AO3

"Scott! Duck!" Stiles yelled, appearing seemingly from nowhere as he swung his bat towards one of the harpies that had been advancing on Scott while his back was turned.

Scott ducked out of the way just as the bat made contact with the harpy's head. It slumped backwards, knocked out cleanly, and Scott surged forward, claws extended, to help Erica who was struggling against three at once; their claws and wings snapping and hitting as they clamored around the blonde wolf.

Behind them Stiles went off swinging again, this time with Mason at his back doing the same with his own weapon of choice. They easily took down another of the harpies and split off to help the rest of the pack against the weaker stragglers that were left after the more powerful elder harpies had swarmed the pack.

They had almost made it through all of them when one of the previously unconscious elder harpies slammed into Stiles' side in a flurry of angry screeching, her beak snapping as she slashed at him with her claws. Stiles was sent sprawling to the ground at the impact and he rushed to raise his bat against her claws but was a second too slow. 

The harpy's claws raked down his side, tearing through his clothes and into his flesh, and Stiles was reminded of the phrase 'like a knife through butter' which was honestly kind of funny when he thought about it because even butter wasn't as pale as he was. You'd think that with all the time he spent playing lacrosse and running around the preserve with the pack, he would at least be a bit more tan, but no. Curse the pale Polish genes that his mother had passed on to him and– oh, wow. The harpy claw wounds were actually really starting to hurt. 

Stiles tried to roll onto his back and open his eyes, unsure of when he'd fallen back or when his eyes had slipped closed, but as soon as he moved to push himself up he was stopped by another wave of fiery pain bursting across his side. He slumped back with a groan but instead of helping, all it did was further increase the agony rolling up his side and spreading through his body until it felt like it was consuming him.

Distantly Stiles heard roaring, but was distracted by the quickly rising nausea and dizziness despite laying flat on the ground. There was another roar and an answering screech followed by a thump and then there were footsteps thundering towards where Stiles was sprawled across the forest floor.

"Stiles!" There were hands on his shoulders and another pressing against his side and he could feel the wet slide of skin against blood and wound, another excruciating wave of pain pulsing out at the pressure. He slumped back into the ground when some of it disappeared, not realising he'd been writhing from it just moments before.

Just as he lost consciousness, he heard Scott's voice. "Call my mom and the sheriff!"

—

Stiles jerked back to awareness, straining against the hand holding him down against a cold, hard surface as a pained scream got stuck in his throat.

"I'm sorry, we needed to get the wound cleaned out as soon as we could." Stiles' eyes flicked over to see Melissa and Deaton stood over him, the hands holding him down belonging to Scott and Derek. He saw his dad standing just behind them as well, anxious lines pulling at the corners of his eyes and mouth. 

His head fell back and he clenched his teeth until he felt his jaw spasm when Melissa pressed a cloth soaked in something that made his side feel as if it was simultaneously burning and freezing all at once. Stiles blinked his eyes back open when he felt a hand brush over his forehead. 

"Stiles, sweetheart," Melissa's nurse voice was clear and firm, meant to grab his attention, but he could hear the underlay of the softness to it. "We need to stitch this closed but we don't have any anesthetic here at the clinic that we can use on you. Scott and Derek are going to be taking your pain at the same time so that they can get you to as numb of a state as possible, alright?" 

Stiles managed a stiff nod, knowing that Melissa needed to know that he heard her.

"Deaton and I are going to try and do this all as fast as we can, but I need you to try and focus on something other than the needle, okay? I know you hate them but this scratch of yours is too deep, we can't use butterfly bandaids on this one, kid."

Stiles grunted out a yes, his eyes tracking his dad as Noah stepped up around Scott and Derek until he was directly next to Stiles' head. The sheriff ran a hand gently over Stiles' forehead, brushing back his hair.

"While Mel and Deaton do what they need to, you're gonna tell me about that book report you've been working on recently." Noah's voice was steady and calm. Stiles knew that the man was more than likely stressed as hell in the moment but damnit was he grateful for the steadiness his dad was providing him.

Said man's words caught up with him and Stiles' brows twisted to an expression of mixed confusion and pain. "Book report? Wha-? C'mon, Pops, If you’re talking about the bestiary then you know it’s not a book report–" He hissed, head pressing back to where Noah had settled his hands softly under his neck and over his one shoulder. 

He heard Scott murmur an apology, his and Derek's hands tightening slightly where they rested over his arms and just as quickly as the wave of pain had washed over him, it faded away. 

"Hey, Mischief, carry on talking. You were saying something about your supernatural encyclopedia mumbo jumbo?" His dad nudged him and Stiles breathed in, feeling the last dregs of his pain seep away as Scott and Derek's pain drain started setting in.

"A bestiary, Dad. It's not an encyclopedia." He muttered, trying to fight against the strange feeling of being both awake and asleep, floating off somewhere in between. Man, he hated that aspect of having his pain taken. It was like getting high without the fun of actually getting high and– oooh-kay, he'd said that out loud. Not clever. 

"Not that I've ever done drugs, Daddio, defo stayed away from those. I've seen enough of 'em dragged in looking all gross when I've been at the station with you. No drugs here, no siree. Unless you count Scotty boy's lovely wolfy pain take away skill right here because it both sucks and is amazing. You should try it, although maybe not cuz that would mean you got hurt and I don't want that."

Stiles blinked his eyes open, staring owlishly up at the sheriff who gazed back with an expression that Stiles couldn't tell if it was amused or exasperated. Probably both. "Hey, Pops?"

"Yes, Sti?" 

"I'm going to take a nap. This is not me passing out, I'm just tired. Running with wolves as well as playing lacrosse, and fending off harpies is tiring. I should get a note for that. You know, like those get out of jail free cards but one for the supernatural so I don't have to deal with Coach getting on my ass for being tired. Okay. Night, Dad. Night Mel and Scott. And Sourwolf. But not Deaton. You try too hard to be Yoda, and that's an insult to his great image."

And with that, Stiles settled his head back and was out cold within seconds, oblivious to the amusement from the others around him."

—

He came back to consciousness in his own bed this time, something knew his back would be grateful for. Sue him for sounding like an old person, you try running with wolves and having anxiety, that shit was terrible for your health.

"Rise and shine, Mr I Get High Off My Best Friends Wolfy Powers And Make My Dad Think I've Done Drugs. How did you sleep?" Lydia's voice called out.

Stiles jerked up, yelping when he pulled at his still tender side. 

There, around the doorway of his room, stood the entire pack. Stiles groaned and flopped back with a wince, sighing out a thanks when Scott stepped forward and took some of his pain. Just as the 'were let go of his arm, Stiles punched him in the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?" Scott whined, his face dropping into his wounded puppy look. Stiles was forever grateful he'd grown immune to it.

Stiles scowled at him. "For telling them all about the pain drain Stiles rambling. Those are sacred, Scott! Sacred! What happens in pain drain Vegas, stays in pain drain Vegas!"

"This isn't Vegas Stiles, it's Beacon Hills."

"Vegas pain drain, Scott! Or I tell them all about your first howl. And don't think Derek won't back me up in that retelling."