shion-yu

[shion-yu]

@whumpay Day 14 - Flu/fever

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Patreon | Ko-Fi

[shion-yu]

Clinical Trials

@medwhumpmay Day 12 (Alt)

Medwhump May Masterlist

content: lab whump, multiple whumpees, drugging, angst, sickfic, whumpee turned caretaker

-

Lips pursed shut, Caretaker shook Whumpee awake, kneeling by their cot. They were looking worse and worse by the day, and he was increasingly worried that one day soon they wouldn’t wake up at all.

He would do anything for that not to happen.

“Caretaker?” they slurred, one eye half-open, curled in the center of their cot. “What’s going on? Lemme sleep. Hurts to be awake.”

In response, he opened his mouth and spit the contents into his hand: a small blue-and-orange pill, covered in bloody spit.

Whumpee weakly attempted to shove him away, though they more just ended up placing a hand on his chest. “Swallow it. That one’s yours. I already got mine.”

“Yours is a fucking placebo and we both know it,” Caretaker hissed under his breath. “I’m already better. I don’t even need it. You’re dying. Take the damn medicine.”

He shoved it in Whumpee’s face, but they turned their head, the most protest they could manage in their current state. “Can’t.”

“Why not? Why are you making this so difficult? Do you have any idea how hard it was to smuggle this? ‘Cause they check your mouth after, you know that.” He opened his mouth, showing off a ragged incision in his cheek. “I had to make a ‘pocket’ with the plastic knife from breakfast. Hurt like a bitch, those things are dull. I’m not doing all that just to have you say no thanks and die in front of me. Take the fucking pill.”

Whumpee looked up with innocent, wet eyes. “What about all the sick people?”

“What sick people!?” Caretaker scream-whispered. “You’re the sick people! In more ways than one, even! Sick in the head, more like!”

“They’re not doing this to us for no reason, you know. These diseases they’re infecting us with? People have them on the outside. Back in the real world.”

“Stop talking about it like it’s another planet. We’ve only been here… a few years.” How long has it been? He didn’t even know. The thought sent ice through his veins. “And this is still the real world.”

“Well, back out there, people are sick, in case you forgot. That’s why they’re doing this, they’re trying to find cures.” Whumpee reached a trembling hand up to cup Caretaker’s cheek, the one with the ‘pocket’. “And they found one. You’re better.”

“Okay, good!” He held the pill out again. “Your turn!”

Whumpee shook their head. “I’m in the control group. I remember learning about this in, what, middle school? The control group is important. It proves the medicine really works and you didn’t just get better on your own. If I start getting better, they might think the medicine doesn’t work. They’ll throw it away. All those innocent people don’t have anything to do with the people keeping us here. They’re being exploited too, just for their money instead of their freedom.”

“Fine. True. But you know what? I don’t give a shit about any of those people.” Caretaker was choked up, teary-eyed. “They can all die, for all I care. I’d rather have you. So take the pill before I shove it down your throat myself.”

“No.” Whumpee turned over, pulling the thin blanket over their head.

Caretaker hated this. He hated it. What would it have been like, if they’d met on the outside? If they hadn’t been the ones to lose the lottery? Neither one of them would be sick, probably, maybe. Though he’d heard the science fucks talking about it getting worse, so maybe they would be. But they could just live their lives in freedom until some other suckers were fucked with enough to find a cure. They could be friends, normal friends, not fighting over whether they deserve to live or die.

He grabbed Whumpee by the shoulder and flipped them back over as carefully as he could. “I’m sorry. I did warn you. Last chance.”

Whumpee glared up at him. “I’ll tell. You’ll get in trouble.”

“Pssh. No you won’t, you teddy bear.” Caretaker rolled his eyes. “Try that on someone who knows you less.”

It wasn’t much of a struggle. Whumpee was too weak to put up a fight. Caretaker got the pill as far back in their mouth as they could, then held their jaw closed, rubbing their throat, just like the vet taught him to do with his dog that hated taking pills.

God, his dog. He wondered if she missed him. If she remembered him. How she was doing with his dipshit brother taking care of her. If he’d ever see her again.

Finally, he felt Whumpee’s throat bob as they swallowed under his fingers, and he let go.

“Open,” he demanded, the same way the science fucks did.

Whumpee’s mouth fell open on command. Tongue up, tongue down, no pill.

“They’re counting on us,” Whumpee whispered tearily.

“None of them are worth it if they sacrifice you to do it.”

Whumpee curled up with their head in Caretaker’s lap, the fight gone. “I had sick family. My nephew. When I got picked, I promised I’d help find a cure. That I got picked for a reason.”

Caretaker was silent for a long, long moment. It was far from the first time Whumpee had mentioned their nephew.

“Whumpee…” they finally tried, “That was years ago. This isn’t… a slow disease. You have to kn–”

“Don’t.” Whumpee buried their face in Caretaker’s scrubs. “It doesn’t matter. There’s more like him. It’s always going to be someone’s nephew sick out there. Or parents, or kids, or sibling, or husband or wife or best friend or–”

“Yeah, well, you’re mine,” Caretaker interrupted, petting them gently. “You’re my someone. So there.”

“You’re my someone too,” Whumpee’s voice came muffled.

Caretaker ruffled their hair. “That’s how I know you won’t tell.”

He couldn’t tell whether the noise they made after that was laughing or crying, and he didn’t ask.

-

i also posted another one a few hours ago if you missed it!

Oneshots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

@paperprinxe

@what-if-i-just-did

Everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

@whumpy-wyrms

@all-hail-pigeons

@wolfeyedwitch

@starfields08000

@jumpywhumpywriter

@scoundrelwithboba

[shion-yu]

I really enjoy anon asks. But the spam bots are too much rn. Will be turning off for just a little bit. Please DO send me an ask anyways though, I promise I don’t bite!

[shion-yu]

[shion-yu]

Carter sickfic idea 👀 Spin off Welcome Back, Carter (season 2) where when he passes out during surgery it’s due to some sort of illness (maybe something he caught on his trip). And no one catches on to his fever or other symptoms throughout the day because of the air conditioning being out and everyone just thinking he’s tired like normal Carter!

BTW! LOVE your Carter sick/whomp fics! Keep them coming!

Medwhump May Day 8- Alt prompt: Fever

His student yet again retreats from view, and Peter yet again doesn't give him a second look. Dr Hicks waits for the doors of the OR to swing shut and turns to him.

“Is your student okay, Peter?”

She's met with a derisive scoff.

“He spent the summer sunbathing on a tropical island, he's more than okay.” He gestures to one of the scrub nurses. “Metz."

OR

Instead of fainting because he was queasy in S2 e1, Carter collapses for a far more urgent reason.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65397613

@medwhumpmay

[shion-yu]

bad caretaker dialogue prompt list

"can you shut up already?"

"suck it up"

"i can't help you if you don't want to be helped"

"can you stop playing the victim?"

"i don't care"

"leave me alone"

"no, you can't sleep in here with me"

"wow, that's one stupid fear you have"

"stop being a baby"

"are you done?"

"you can't fall back on your trauma forever"

"a team? we? no, definitely not"

"you're so weird"

"there's no 'we'"

"you're really eating all that?"

"it's just a scratch"

"you're lying"

"you're insane"

"you're gross"

"i can't be around you anymore"

[shion-yu]

day 8: feeding tube

@medwhumpmay

content: eating disorder whump, hospital setting, medical whump

“You have a BMI of 14.3. We had that talk earlier, you remember? We said that if you dipped below 14.5 you would get the tube.”

“I tried to eat more.”

“Well, it’s not showing. You’re high-risk, and the hospital can’t afford to keep you if you don’t consent to the feeding tube.”

Whumpee stared down at the blanket covering their thin legs. The nurse sounded like they were more than upset with them. They didn’t mean to make anyone upset, and they didn’t mean to get so sick. They were trying. They really were.

“Is there no way to avoid this?” they asked quietly.

“You had a way of avoiding it up until now. Now, it’s either the tube or going home on your own.”

“How many… calories are you going to feed me through the tube?”

“1200.”

Whumpee swallowed nervously. That was more than double their usual allowance. They tried not counting ever since they’d been brought to the hospital, but it was difficult, and they never quite managed to let go of the numbers. “Every day?”

“Yes, every day. Do you consent or do you want to go home?” 

“Can I call my parents?”

The nurse sighed, clearly annoyed. “You’re an adult. You can make these choices yourself. But sure, I guess. I need your answer before noon.”

Whumpee nodded and the nurse left. They dialed their mother’s number and waited quietly until she answered the phone.

“Hello? Whumpee? Is everything alright?”

“Hi mom. How… how are you?”

“That’s my line. How is everything? Is everything okay?”

“Um… I… I lost weight again.”

There was silence on the other end for a long moment. “Oh, honey…”

“Please don’t be upset.”

“I’m not upset with you, dear. I’m worried. That’s what moms do. Did you… lose a lot of weight?”

“Half a kilo. They— they want to tube me.”

“Goodness. I… I mean, I get it. Believe me, I get it. But picturing you with that horrid thing down your throat—”

“I don’t want it.”

“What?”

“I don’t want it. I’m thinking of going home.”

“Honey… It’s for your own good.”

“I really, really don’t want it. You said it yourself, you also hate the idea. I… I don’t want it. I can eat better at home anyway. Would you pick me up if I refused?” 

Their mother sighed. “Whumpee, I really don’t think you should come home right now.”

Whumpee froze. “What?”

“They have expertise. They have experience. They can help you much more than we can, you know that.”

“I just have to eat. That’s all I have to do. I can do that at home.”

“But you’re not doing it at home. You haven’t been doing that. That’s the whole reason you’re there.”

“You don’t want me to go home?”

“I want nothing more than for you to come home. But not right now. Not when you’re still so sick.”

“I… I see.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, please. I want you home. I just can’t help you. I’ve tried, and I’ve failed. I can’t do this without the medical staff. If they think the tube will help you, just let them do it. Please.”

Whumpee didn’t say anything.

“Whumpee? Are you there?”

“I am.”

“Will you consent to the feeding tube?”

“I… I’ll think about it.”

“That’s good. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll come visit you after work, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry for bothering.”

“You’re never a bother, honey.” They sure felt like it. “See you soon.”

“Bye.”

They hung up and let their hand drop down onto the mattress. So the tube it was, unless they wanted to be even more of a bother and a disappointment. A bother to the hospital staff, a bother to their family. They wished they could waste away completely, with no one to see and no one to upset.

They swung their legs over the side of the bed and got up, their blood pressure dropping immediately. They caught themself before fainting. 

The tube it was. They just had to let the nurse know.

~

@whumpsday @lolrpop

[shion-yu]

day 9: infection/sepsis

@medwhumpmay

content: military whump, infection whump, medical setting, field medicine whump

“Doc?” 

Caretaker stopped fussing with the clearly infected wound and looked at the face of the soldier entrusted to their care. They were white as the wall, sweat beading on their forehead. “Yeah?” they forced out.

“I’m not gonna make it, am I?”

Somewhere in the distance, a bomb went off. Potentially tens and tens of other soldiers could’ve been grazed by shrapnel, someone could’ve had their hand or leg blown off. Caretaker was going to have to treat them — if they made it back to base.

“Doc?”

“Sorry. I— No— I mean, yes, of course you’re going to make it. Sorry. I mean, the wound…”

“It’s infected, isn’t it? Is it bad?”

Yes. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Whumpee let their head fall back onto the pillow, letting out a mildly relieved sigh. “Good. That’s good, I guess. At least I have that going for me.”

“Well…” Caretaker swallowed. “If we let it spread, it might kill you. We’re gonna have to, um… We’re gonna have to chop it off.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, okay? This isn’t ideal—”

“We don’t have any painkillers! When I asked for some yesterday you told me you were all out! How are you going to cut my leg off with no painkillers?”

“It’s not ideal. But if this spreads, it’s going to kill you.”

Whumpee shot up on the bed and grabbed Caretaker by their white coat. “I’m going to kill you before you touch me with that bone saw—” They barely got the words out before they had to let go and turn to the side, retching into the bucket that had been placed there.

“I’m sorry,” Caretaker said softly. “I truly am. I’ll get you a rag to bite down on. It’s either this or death. I’m really sorry.”

“You’re not fit to be a doctor here,” they hissed. “What are you apologising about? Just get to work, then, if it’s really that bad. Just— stop with the sympathy. Get moving.”

“I don’t think—” They cut themself off, grabbing a mostly clean rag from the counter. Whumpee was right. This wasn’t the time for sympathy, this was the time for action, even if that action was horrifying. 

They weren’t completely wrong. They’d been assigned to be the doctor at this base just recently; they’d been operating in the cushy hospital back at the capital up until now. It was only because the last doctor had been taken out by a sniper that they’d been transferred. They weren’t cut out for this. Nobody really was.

“Doc?”

“Yeah,” they said, hand stopping mid-air. 

“If I don’t make it, tell my partner I love them. Their photo and address are in my front pocket.”

Caretaker silently nodded, giving them the rag to bite down on. No more talking from this point on. Only the sound of gunfire and pitiful, pained moaning — soon to be agonised screams — of their patient.

~

@whumpsday @lolrpop

[shion-yu]

Infection

@medwhumpmay Day 9

Medwhump May Masterlist

content: infection, gangrene, amputation, field surgery, broken bones, gore, brief & temporary death wish, lady whump, yuri!

-

The infection only got worse and worse.

Whumpee tried to get the guards to do something about it. When it became apparent that the guards didn’t give a fuck whether she lived or died, she tried to ignore it. But as her foot started to necrose more and more, and then her ankle, and then her lower leg, she stopped being able to ignore it.

She didn’t take her shoe off anymore. It hurt too much, and looking at it made her want to puke. She couldn’t stand, could barely even sit.

And then she got a cellmate.

The other captive was quiet and reserved, but not shy. She was polite, but not much for conversation, not unless it served some practical purpose.

So when Caretaker asked What’s wrong with your leg? only hours after arriving, without having seen anything, she knew it had to be bad.

“Some kinda infection,” Whumpee explained, her voice ever-strained now. “Figure it’ll go away or my foot’ll fall off, one or the other.”

“Or you get sepsis and die,” Caretaker added bluntly.

Whumpee glared at her. “You some kinda doctor?”

“Medic,” Caretaker corrected. “Can I take a look?”

Whumpee grimaced. She hadn’t looked at it in weeks, and at that point it was just the ball of her foot. It hurt all over now, and she could only imagine how bad it was.

But she didn’t want to get sepsis and die.

“Fine. You can look at it if you can get my boot off.” Whumpee didn’t bother to even try to get up off the floor.

Caretaker came to her. She gripped her right boot, tugging only slightly, but Whumpee had to bite her lip and jerk her head to the side so Caretaker wouldn’t see her cry.

“They’re kidnapping medics now?” she forced out, squeaky, just to try to distract herself.

“Apparently they are. Fast or slow?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee sucked in a deep, sharp breath. “Fast.”

And Caretaker yanked the boot off all at once.

Whumpee screamed. She couldn’t help it, it was the worst pain she’d ever felt in her entire life, and it wasn’t even close. Miles worse than being shot.

“Breathe,” Caretaker said, and Whumpee was about to spit a remark out about that being oh so helpful when she felt Caretaker take her hand. The medic’s hands were warm and gentle, clasped around her own like a clamshell guarding a pearl. “I’m going to help you.”

She did breathe. Big, shaking breaths in time with Caretaker’s own, until the pain settled back to its already-awful baseline.

She didn’t dare look.

“You have gangrene,” Caretaker said as soon as Whumpee seemed in a place to hear it. “Your lower leg is rotting away. It needs to go or it’s going to take the rest of you with it.”

“Guards don’t care, I already tried ‘em. Fuck. I’m gonna die in here.” Whumpee did look up at her then, still teary, caring less about that by the moment.

Caretaker looked out through the bars. She dropped Whumpee’s hand, shuffling away toward the corner. When she seemed certain that no one else was looking, she silently lifted her shirt and pulled a small pocketknife from her waist. Just as quickly, she resheathed it and pulled her shirt back down.

“How did you–”

“They didn’t search me,” Caretaker whispered. “Probably assumed I didn’t have anything.”

Whumpee set her gaze back on the floor beside her head. “You’re going to cut my leg off with that?”

“We don’t have any other options.” Caretaker was right, Whumpee knew it, but still, the thought of that puny knife sawing into her for who knows how long when simply taking off her boot sent her into unimaginable pain…

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Caretaker continued. “We’ll wait for a time the guards seem unlikely to interrupt us. The fact that they barely looked in when you screamed is a good sign.”

Whumpee nodded blearily. “I’ve been screaming a lot.”

“Good. But we’ll have to try to limit it so they don’t get suspicious. We’ll have to gag you. It’s going to be really, really bad. I’d never think of performing something like this on a conscious person unless it’s an absolute emergency, and that’s what this is. You are going to die if we don’t remove that rotting tissue. I’m going to have to use leverage to break the bone–my knife isn’t strong enough to cut through bone. Then I’ll cut through it as fast as I can, wrap it in my shirt, make a tourniquet, put as much pressure on it as I can, and hope you don’t bleed out or get infected again. It’s the best we’ve got. The good news is I’m pretty sure I can save your knee. Guess it’s a good thing they’re kidnapping medics.”

It sounded like hell.

She had no other choice.

“Okay. I’m in.”

The guards left them alone when they went for dinner–it wasn’t like they expected them to do much. And really, they wouldn’t care about the surgery itself anyway. But if they found Caretaker’s knife, they’d take it away, and then she really would die.

Caretaker pulled off her shirt and slung it over her shoulder, leaving her in a sweaty white tank top. She cut a strip off the bottom, tying it and fashioning it into a makeshift gag.

“This is going to hurt. Just try and stay still or this is going to be way harder than it needs to be.” She knelt down beside Whumpee, one knee bent at a 90-degree angle.

Whumpee nodded. Caretaker picked Whumpee’s leg up and hoisted it over her knee, sending a shockwave of pain through it, and as she rolled up the pant leg, Whumpee finally saw it.

Her leg was unrecognizable. Her toes were totally black, the skin of her foot and up her leg rotten to the bone, which was visible out the side and yellowed. Was it supposed to be yellowed? The whole thing looked more like a dead tree than a part of her body. It was a miracle she kept herself from throwing up, her vision spinning.

“Brace yourself.” Caretaker warned. She wrapped one hand around one fist, raising them up in the air like a hammer.  “This is the worst part. I’m going to try to snap the bone. I’m probably not going to be able to do it on the first try. Don’t look and don’t struggle.”

Whumpee whipped her head to the side. As soon as she did, Caretaker brought her fist down with all the force she had.

Something cracked.

For a moment, Whumpee thought there was a ringing in her hears, soon realizing it was the sound of her own muffled screams. It felt like every nerve in her leg had been pulverized, and she twisted away, unable to control herself in her desperation to escape it.

Caretaker gripped her firmly by the shoulder, twisting her right back. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the right spot, it didn’t break where we needed it. The bone is weaker on the infection. If I cut there, you’ll still be infected. I need to go again.”

Whumpee shook her head vigorously. She’d rather die. She couldn’t do this.

“I’m sorry,” Caretaker repeated, her voice wavering for once. Distantly, Whumpee realized they were both crying.

The hammer of Caretaker’s fists came down again.

And again. And again.

Each time, Whumpee wailed, trying to leap away to death, though Caretaker easily brought her back. Finally, there was another crack, though everything below that hurt so much worse she could barely feel it.

“There. That’s the worst part,” Caretaker panted, as if she were the one exhausted. “It’ll be over soon. I promise.”

She flipped out that little knife and began to saw.

Whumpee was too spent to struggle anymore, even as she saw the floor grow slick with her blood, even as she felt the blade carve her up like a piece of meat, digging into the corded muscle of her calf.

But oddly enough, by the time she felt her leg thunk onto the cell floor, it hurt less than before they’d began.

Caretaker wrapped something tight just below her knee, and Whumpee whined. Caretaker kept wrapping and wrapping, and when she was done, she pressed her hand into the fabric over the stump of Whumpee’s leg, not letting go.

“It’s done,” she announced. “It’s done. How are you feeling?”

Arms shaking, Whumpee reached up and removed the gag from her mouth. “It hurts,” she whimpered, voice small like a child’s. Whimpered, something she couldn’t say she’d ever done before in her life.

“I know. I’m here. You’re going to live, Whumpee,” Caretaker said reverently.

Whumpee stared at the severed limb laying in a bloody heap on the floor.

She breathed.

-

Oneshots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

@paperprinxe

@what-if-i-just-did

Everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

@whumpy-wyrms

@all-hail-pigeons

@wolfeyedwitch

@starfields08000

@jumpywhumpywriter

@scoundrelwithboba

[shion-yu]

[shion-yu]

[shion-yu]

[shion-yu]

you there 🫵 sexualize this old man with me.

[shion-yu]

whump is such a strange thing for me. ‘oh im having trouble shouldering the burdens of daily life, let me play scenes in my head of someone getting the shit kicked out of them (fictionally), that’ll make me feel better’ and it DOES

[shion-yu]

Characters who get irritable and snappy when sick >>>>

---

"Are you okay? You look tired."

"Wow, last time I come here without makeup."

---

"You haven't been taking proper care of yourself!"

"Fork found in kitchen."

---

"Can I make you something? You haven't eaten all day..."

"I would literally rather starve to death than suffer through your cooking."

---

*Character playing loud music*

"SHUT THE FUCK UP‼️‼️‼️‼️"

[shion-yu]

Favourite seldom-used sickfic trope please!

(Feel better)

Over all I don’t see a lot of platonic domestic sickfic! Roommates, best friends, siblings, etc. As far as tropes go, I never see anyone posting about moving to a new place! As someone who is doing that in 3 weeks (especially with a recent injury) it’s fresh on my mind. It has so much potential. If whumpee is sick, there’s no other option but to push through it—they’ve already rented the truck and their lease is up. You can put it in the dead of summer or winter where it’s blazing hot or freezing cold. Often times, your best friends are the ones helping you, so there’s a lot of potential for strong platonic relationships. They’re out of their comfort zone and in a new place with none of the familiar things that they recognize, which might be fun to do to a delirious whumpee. And on top of that, all their shit is in boxes, so they might not even know where to find blankets or the contents of their medicine cabinet. :) 

[shion-yu]

“Are you okay? You’re not usually this much of an asshole…”