#sedative whump

[justwhumptypethings]

tw: noncon drugging, disorientation, power loss

drugging.

I know it’s a classic, but I’m really not over sedatives. it makes whumpee all loopy and clingy, sitting on whumper’s lap and not able to take any of their weight as the world spins. they can’t think, can’t move. even their fear response is dulled.

whumpee knows, hypothetically, in a far off way, that something is probably very wrong. but it feels like their consciousness has been shredded to pieces and scattered into the air above where they’re siting slumped, and it’s making it hard to have any type of cohesive thought.

whumper running their hands through their hair, soft and pretty, and saying demeaning things about how broken whumpee is. whumpee won’t remember any of it in the morning.

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Sedate your whumpees. Do it whether they want to be sedated or not.

Perhaps they're trying to fight against the doctors who are attempting to help them because they don't understand what's going on, and all caretaker can do is stand back and tearily watch the needle slip in and whumpee's consciousness slowly slip away. Their limp arm is placed back down on the sheets beside them and the doctors now have no resistance to their treatment plan.

Or maybe whumpee is in so much pain/discomfort that they're begging to be sedated. All they want is to be unconscious so they don't have to be aware of all that they're suffering through. The feeling of going under is terrifying to them, but it's worth it. Caretaker sits beside the bed holding their hand, watching the glaze enter their eyes as they start to blink slowly, then drift off.

In either situation, the result is that the whumpee looks peaceful at last. Whether they're actually peaceful within is a whole other thing

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Redwood Psychatric Institute - Part 7

MASTERLIST - PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5 - PART 6

CWS: medical whump, medical gaslighting , sedative, injection, noncon drugging, forced psychiatric 'care', patient/medical malpractice

"Come on James. If you have your meds, Doctor Wilson has allowed you to have some time in the courtyard today." The blonde orderly encouraged cheerfully.

She smoothed a hand over her white scrubs, then placed the wax paper cup full of pills in front of James. She then placed a paper cup of water beside it.

James lifted his head and nodded weakly. He tipped the cup full of pills into his mouth, washing them down with the water and swallowing without a second thought.

He placed the empty cups back on the table.

"Good boy." The orderly smiled brightly, and ruffled a hand through his hair. "I'll come past your room later and take you out. Now let's run along to group therapy!"

She grabbed ahold of his wheelchair, and began to push him out of the room and down the hall, whistling a cheery tune as she went. She noticed, but didn't react, when James' head lolled about as they went.

---

That afternoon, the orderly returned to pick up her charge. Her golden locks were now swept back into a tight bun, instead of the clean ponytail she wore earlier. She wheeled him into the fenced off courtyard with the same large, white smile that had been plastered on her face in the morning.

"Courtyard tiiiime!" She all but sang, as she parked his wheelchair beneath a beautiful large oak tree. "Aren't you excited, James?"

He didn't respond. James' hospital gown clung to his thin, pale and sweaty frame. His hair was a knotted mess, and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy.

The orderly combed a hand through his hair, trying to untangle it. "They really need to take better care of you, my darling. You're all untidy! I promise I'll have a word to the night staff when I hand over this afternoon, about proper hygiene."

She placed a hand under his chin, turning his face into the sunlight. He flinched, blinking slowly. She pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket of her scrubs and wiped away a stray trail of drool slipping from the corner of his half-open mouth.

"Oh you poor darling. It's not your fault the Doctor has you drugged up so much you can't move.. maybe I should have a little word with him about that, too, hey? You have been well behaved lately. You might be even get some visitors again soon!" She chirped.

James didn't respond. She petted his shoulder cheerfully, nodded to herself, and stood to take up her place behind his wheelchair again. Without another word, she wheeled him back inside the hospital.

---

The door to the Rec room slid open, and Mathew walked in.

He scanned the room, looking for a particular face in the crowd of patients. There were several round tables around the room, all piled high with untouched games - Jenga, Uno, dominoes. Three to four patients sat at each table. Each of the patients wore the same paper thin, blue hospital gown. They also had the same vacant stare in their bloodshot eyes, drool dipping down their chins or sweat trickling from their temples. Mathew felt a little shiver down his spine. He did not like this place. But he was here for a good reason. He didn't know where Row- No, James', parents were, if they were visiting him, if they were even alive.. but he was pretty sure that he was all James had left. He owed it to his friend to help him through the hardest time in his life. Doctor Wilson had said that Rowan had been struggling with mental illness throughout his life - and Mathew, his best friend, never noticed. He couldn't change that, but he could stand up to the task now.

His eyes landed on his friend. Sitting alone, in the corner, in a wheelchair sat James. Mathew walked over, keeping his deamenor calm and cheerful.

"Hey James, how are you?" He smiled, pulling up a chair next to his friend.

James' head was turned away from him and there was no indication that he had heard Mathew.

"Ok, uh well, I'm doing good. Life is um, uneventful. Except for when I accidentally poured coffee in my cereal yesterday. Heh, didn't taste as bad as I expected. It was stupid though, I was trying to watch a video on my phone and um and-"

Mathew stuttered as James' head slowly turned, and his friend saw his face. He looked just like the other patients - drugged up to the eyeballs. He was also as thin as a twig. Mathew's mouth stopped working as he saw his friend, a shell of the person he once knew.

"Uh, hey.. bud, how you feelin'? Can you hear me?"

James blinked slowly. He was looking right through Mathew, as though they were on different planes of existence. Mathew took a deep breath, and reminded himself of the reason he was visiting - and would continue to visit.

"The weather's nice today. Maybe they'll let me take you into the courtyard? Doctor Wilson said you've been going out there sometimes, and that it seems to cheer you up. It always feels nice to get some sunshine, doesn't it?"

One of the patients at the table beside them began mumbling something in a breathy voice. Mathew tried to ignore it and keep talking at his friend.

"Actually the other day I was in my graden trying to do just that, and I saw this beautiful flower. And I didn't know what it was called, so I Googled it, and get this, its called a -"

Mathew was once again interrupted as the patient at the next table let out a shrill scream, knocked all the games off the table, and began to slam her fists into the table, roaring hoarsely.

"Shit." Mathew gasped, jumping to his feet.

There were the sound of heaving footsteps racing through the hall, then the door to the rec room burst open and orderlies barged inside, headed straight for the unruly patient.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed as they grabbed her by the arms, wrenching her away from the table. "Help me!" She locked eyes with Mathew. "HELP! They're drugging us, please you have to help us please!" She sounded desperate.

Mathew stood frozen in shock, or fear.

The orderlies ignored her pleas, and fought against her as she tried to fight them off in the direction of the door.

"Miss, you are acting hysterical, we have been left with no choice but to sedate you! This is for your own good!" One orderly yelled over her screams.

They pinned her down on top of the next table. The patients seated around the table didn’t react as they were shoved out of the way by her flailing limbs, which one of the orderlies managed to pin in place without taking a fist to the face.

Another drew a hypodermic syringe from the pocket of his white scrubs. Mathew watched in shock as the orderly shoved the syringe straight through the muscle of her shoulder.

The patient screamed, one last time, before the sedative began to flow into her system, and she relaxed into the grip of the orderlies. Her eyes were already fluttering closed as they lifted her to her feet, and took her outside the room where a gurney happened to be waiting for them. Mathew stood and went to the doorway, where he watched as they lifted the patient onto the gurney, and began to strap her in with padded restraints. One of the orderlies saw Mathew watching, and gave him an apologetic shrug.

"Sorry for the scene man. That's why these patients here don't get many visits. They're all hysterical and convinced we're out to get them. This is just for their own good." The orderly turned back to his coworkers, and helped them wheel the now unconscious patient on the gurney deep into the bowels of the hospital.

---

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[literary-lesbo]

Girl of Tin

MedWhump May Day 6: Sedatives Summary: Kara is hurt and Lena is defensive. Word Count: ~750

AO3

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“What did you do to her?” Lena demanded, clinging to one of Kara’s limp hands. The blonde was a mess, her face littered with bruises. Lena didn’t know that she could be injured, it was taking a lot for the brunette to keep calm as she stared at her girlfriend. 

“It's just a light sedative Ms. Luthor, to keep her calm. She’s in a lot of pain right now and we don’t want her to do any more damage.” One of the medics explained, pausing to give Lena what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. She did not feel reassured. Since learning Kara was Supergirl Lena had been able to take a deep breath. 

Sure the job was dangerous, but Lena felt less inclined to worry. Impenetrable skin was one of those things that just tended to put your mind at ease. Of course she still worried, but it felt pointless. There was a small comfort in believing that her concern was empty, kryptonite was not an easy substance to get your hands on. But those men had it. Not only did they have kryptonite, they had kryptonite weapons. Blades forged from the stuff, brass knuckles inlaid with it. Kara had been doomed from the start. 

Lena wasn’t entirely sure that “light sedative” was an appropriate description, Kara was out cold. The CEO would’ve thought she was dead if not for the steady beeping of the heart monitor that nearly drowned in the otherwise silent, sterile room. When she had first arrived at the DEO, Lena was taken aside by Alex. Promised that Kara would be okay, given a quick uneasy hug. She still wasn’t entirely comfortable with Alex, she knew that the agent felt the same way about her. That being said, she was Kara’s sister, Lena could play nice. 

After promising that she would remain calm Lena had been allowed into the Medical Wing of the DEO and directed to a chair by Kara’s side. She had been in shock at the state of the alien, unable to fully comprehend the extent of the injuries. 

Kara’s face, once untouched by blemishes, was swollen and covered in small cuts. She had a black eye, gash across her cheek, and blood crusted under her nose. One of her arms was probably broken, and there were more cuts across her skin that were covered by the gown 

The uniform, she didn’t think was possible to rip, was torn and bloodied on the floor. 

There was a hot rage in her chest that she had not been alerted right away. It shouldn't have taken them so long to call her, she should have been one of the first to know. Lena would’ve understood had they not let her into the room while they worked on Kara, but she couldn’t grasp why they wouldn’t at least call her right away. She thought more of the director of the DEO. Their relationship was tense at best, but still held respect. 

“She’ll be alright. The sun lamps are already healing her, we’ll wake her up tomorrow and see how she feels,” Alex’s voice wasn’t a surprise, but it wasn’t entirely welcome either. Lena (selfishly) wanted to be alone with her girlfriend, she felt like she would be able to protect the superhero this way. There was a strange feeling gnawing at her stomach, wondering how the government agency didn’t know about the weapons present. 

“I can get a cot set up in here if you’d like. It won’t be the most comfortable night, but it’s the least I can do. I’m sorry we didn’t call you right away, that wasn’t fair. There was an argument about whether or not you…could be trusted. J’onn didn’t want you here.” Alex continued, confirming Lena’s suspicions. Lex had done irreparable damage to her reputation. 

“I would like that, thank you Agent Danvers.” She didn’t acknowledge the apology, it didn’t seem worthy of her time. She was already rescheduling her week in her head, she would relay that message to Jess as soon as she felt comfortable leaving Kara alone. 

She could feel Alex staring at her back, she was probably expecting more than the simple sentence. On a better day, she probably would’ve gotten it. If Kara was conscious, she probably would’ve gotten it. But she wasn’t and Lena couldn’t force kindness right now. Perhaps she would apologize for her coldness once she was confident her girlfriend was okay. More likely though, she wouldn’t. In her mind, Alex didn’t deserve her kindness. Not yet. 

@medwhumpmay

[letitbehurt]

Thinking about Whumpee being held down in a hospital bed.

[whumporama]

Whumpee who is a very powerful person, (magical or just strong and dangerous), and needs to be held captive. To keep them down, their captors keep them drugged.

Whumpee, who would normally never give in or back down, who keeps fighting even if they're restrained, is now unable to even lift a finger to stop them. It breaks them. They can take anything, if they can fight. But this? They're constantly confused and feel like their mind is in a fog. Their body doesn't feel theirs anymore, they can't move and they can't think and they can't resist.

---

When they're rescued, they're in a pretty bad state, and taking care of their wounds will hurt.

But Whumpee refuses the sedative Caretaker offers. They just got this control back, and even though they know they can trust Caretaker, they don't want to go back to that.

So now they're trapped between two evils. It hurts like hell to get their wounds cleaned, and they've had so, so much pain and are so tired. But the relief comes with going back to that state, and they can't.

Does Caretaker respect their wish? Do they try to convince them? Do they force Whumpee to take it? Do they inject it, and Whumpee only realizes when it starts to kick in?

[avvail-whumps]

The whumpee’s eyes blinked slowly, staring at the fuzziness that was building up in the edges of their vision. Even when they tried to shake it away, it only seemed to grow worse.

It made them all lightheaded and funny, barely even able to lift their hand up to look at it. When they moved it, it was like they were seeing a blurry trail of colours. Their lips curved into a weary smile, and a breathless laugh escaped their lips.

“Caretaker?” They whispered, brows wrinkling when they realised their tongue was heavy.

There was something moving beside them, and a familiar face breached their vision from where they were lay down – the caretaker was smiling, their voice only reaching their ears after they watched their lips move.

“I’m here,” they gently hummed, brushing some of the whumpee’s hair from their face. Their dazed eyes were fixated on them, before wrinkling in confusion.

Their numb fingers gently prodded the caretaker’s cheek. They could just make out dark red scratch marks, and their lips wobbled in an attempt to say something. The caretaker shushed them, gently taking their hand and holding it close.

“It’s okay,” they smiled. “It was an accident. I forgive you.”

Forgive them. The whumpee wearily realised it must have been their fault, but they didn’t remember doing it. They didn’t really remember anything. They let out a slurred mumble, and the caretaker sighed, kissing their temple.

“Sorry. You weren’t calming down,” they murmur, but the whumpee is so fuzzy that they can’t hear anything. It feels like their floating, and it feels good. It feels calm, and they like it.

The caretaker sets the sedative in the drawer, and tucks them into bed.

[whump-bunny]

Whumper had Whumpee wearing a shock collar for the longest time... Until Whumpee got used to the pain and began to ignore it.

So Whumper made Whumpee wear a new collar. One that can monitor Whumpee's heart rate. And if that heart rate gets too fast? Say, for instance, if Whumpee is trying to run away? Or trying to hurt themself? The collar will inject a sedative directly into Whumpee's neck. Problem solved.

Maybe Whumper intentionally sets the threshold really low so Whumpee can hardly walk without setting the collar off.

Maybe Whumper takes great pleasure in trying to scare Whumpee just to see them panic.

Maybe the threat of sedation only makes Whumpee's heart rate get faster.

Maybe after Whumpee is rescued, they shove their feelings down and seem eerily calm all the time.

[justwhumptypethings]

tw: heavy objectification, conditioning, torture, mention of limb death

art piece whumpee.

strung up and injured and hurt to look pretty and literally exist as an art piece in a gallery.

their arms are folded, intertwined with their legs so that their bony arm is twisted around their left leg, the other under the right, the right leg splayed out and upwards farther. their knuckles go red and their body suffers long term damage for being kept in a stress position like that for so long.

they lost feeling a long time ago. When they eat, they get spoonfed by one of the employees at the gallery. People gather around to watch and it becomes part of the art because the employee has to wear something that evokes whatever morbid image they think it’s displaying.

they get let out twice a day- before and after opening and closing- to use the bathroom, and otherwise they’re constantly strung up. their body is in a constant stress position, and both of their shoulders have been dislocated to achieve it for a long, long time. their vocal cords were also cut. whumper would have just cut their tongue, except they thought that had value to add to the piece, in whumpee licking their scabbed chapped lips, or getting their jaw pulled open. they decided to cut their vocal cords instead.

before they got strung up, they had to be turned into an art piece. Whumper scarred them to all hell, not trying to hurt them, but trying to evoke a certain image. their clothes aren’t normal clothes, obviously, they’re the type of thing you’d imagine on a statue. That type of revealing, robe-ish thing.

there’s a little plaque that sits on a stand next to them, with whumper’s name and credits to them, and the name of their website if any viewers want to buy one of their own to keep, and the title of the piece. not their given name, not the name their mother gave them- the title of the piece.

they’ve stopped being able to feel things a long time ago. They almost dislike when they’re let down, because it gives their body just enough time to recoordinate to normal gravity and walking before getting strung back up. they have to start the process of the initial blood rush, followed by the asleep feeling, followed by pain and then numbness. they haven’t been able to feel their feet or their fingers since training. if they do get rescued, they won’t be able to use either- their toes and fingers both look purple, almost black, from the blood- almost like bad hypothermia. it adds to the look. they think their fingers and toes might be dead.

whumper was looking for the type of look you see sometimes in old rennesiance oil paintings, but more tangible. whumpee’s body wasn’t the only thing they worked on- they looked through different types of bonds- ropes, chains, before finally landing on strings. whumpee is a proper art piece to whumper- they spent hours styling and changing whumpee’s clothes, if you could call it that. Whumper spent days sketching and thinking about ways to string up whumpee- which arm and leg should go where to achieve the most pain and blood flow block up, making their knuckles and every one of their bony joints red and swollen.

alternatively, art piece whumpee who’s heavily conditioned. they’re an art piece. that’s all they are. there’s nothing wrong with the way the viewers look at them or touch them or the mocking way they talk to them. they want to be a good art piece. that’s all they are.

human speech sounds garbled in their mind. somehow, whumper’s training managed to make whumpee unlearn language, all human language coming out strange and gibberish to them. they can’t communicate, can’t understand.

the strings are light and clear, and they give enough for whumpee to be able to move and change their position slightly, but they can’t get out. the strings are wrapped too tight around them, further affecting their circulation and biting into their flesh, leaving permeanant scars. the strings don’t give, despite how thin they are, they’re sturdy.

if whumpee does manage to get out of them, somehow, they’ll be decommissioned. A new living art piece will be up a couple months from now. they’ll hand in a heap on the floor, much too dizzy to get away from the security guards.

they’ve long stopped trying to fight it. They’re a touchable exhibit, and so people are allowed to pinch their cheeks and laugh when their eyes widen or touch them however they want as long as they don’t break their strings. People poke them in the sides and laugh when they flinch, looking over at them with terror.

they’re surrounded by objects- paintings and cloth and clay. Beautiful objects, human expression, but objects nonetheless. they’re left there after lights out, just like all the other art pieces, sitting in the dark for 15 hours surrounded by objects just like them until the next employee comes in to open at seven.

they’re the pride and joy of their exhibit.

[whumpookies]

AMOW whumperland 2023 day 4 title: the Grinch prompt: Sedative.

[archivist-aether]

A whump idea I made

The whumper being a sick and twisted designer, so they keep the whumpee for a personal mannequin/doll to try on their clothes (preferably dresses but that's just my idea) But in order for the whumper to get the whumpee to try on their designs they have to undo the the whumpee's restraints, which leads to the whumpee trying to escape.

After awhile the whumper would get sick of the constant struggling from the whumpee and decide to sedate them so they can't resist when they undo the restraints. So the Whumpee will just lay there or lean against something limply and extremely drowsily while the whumper dresses them up, holding the whumpee's arms up to see the fitting of the clothes or supporting them while they admire their work, and then just throwing them onto a bed/sofa/floor when they're done with them, and put them back in the restraints.

I love this idea too much.

[faofinn]

No. 28 "We might not make it to the morning, so go on and tell me now."

Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | "You'll have to go through me."  

The meeting with the principal and safeguarding went as well as Sheila had expected. The teacher who had caused so much of Finn’s low moods and outbursts had continued his war on the kid, and it just wasn't fair.  

While the adults saw the meeting as the necessary evil it was, Finn couldn't see past the hurt it was causing him. They cut it short in the end, to try and prevent a full meltdown, though they were already halfway into one. 

Finn screamed and shouted the whole way home, kicking off at anything and everything. As soon as he was helped out of his seat, he was off again, shouting that he hated them and never wanted to see them again as he slammed the doors up to his room.

Fao flinched, looking up from his book. He’d thought things had settled, but it seemed like they’d gotten worse. He swallowed thickly, the nausea and fear rising just from Finn’s outburst. He pushed it down, suddenly fiercely protective over Finn. 

He set down his stuff and headed out into the hallway, in search of someone coming after Finn. He wouldn’t let them touch him, he couldn’t.

Nobody came, the pair too used to his outbursts and aware he'd need space to decompress. That left Finn alone, curled in a tight ball under his duvet as he sobbed. His skin tingled, his wolf threatening to break through the suppression. 

After a moment of indecision, Fao knocked gently on Finn’s door. “Finn?”

"Go away, go away, go away!"

“I jus’ wanted to see if you were okay. It’s only me, only Fao.”

"I don't want to do it any more."

“You wanna just sit?”

"I don't want them."

“It’s only me, nobody else is around.”

He paused. "Jus' you?"

“Yeah.”

"Okay."

Fao cautiously pushed the door open. “Are you okay?”

He sniffed. "No."

“What happened?”

"They wouldn't stop."

“Who wouldn’t?”

"Everybody!" He cried, burying himself again.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

"You're doing the same!"

“Okay, we won’t talk about it.” Fao said softly.

Finn hesitated. "Promise?"

“Promise. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna. Wanna talk about something else?”

He nodded, slowly emerging to look at Fao.

“Can I sit on your bed with you?” 

"Yeah." His voice was small as he peeked at Fao, watching him carefully. 

Fao sat down on the end of his bed, crossing his legs. “Thanks. You cosy under the duvet?”

"It's safe under here."

“Yeah? Sounds good to me.” Fao said softly. 

Finn didn’t move, watching Fao with wide eyes. The older boy hadn't done anything to hurt him or force him to talk, which Finn appreciated. He seemed to be okay.

"Fao?"

“Yeah?”

"I've got a lion under here." He said with a grin, moving to show him. 

“Oh my god.” Fao exclaimed with a laugh. 

Finn grinned. "He's mine."

“What’s his name?”

"Lion." He said, his confidence returning. 

“That’s a pretty good name. I have Eeyore in my room.”

"You do?"

“Yeah. He was with me in hospital and everything.”

"I haven't seen him. My lion has been mine since dad was my Dad."

“Since you were born?”

He shook his head, his eyes suddenly widening as he cowered back. His grip on lion grew tighter, his small hands turning white. 

"Finn? You still up here?"

Fao frowned. “He’s fine!”

"You in Finn’s room, kid?" He asked, knocking on the door. 

“He’s fine, leave him alone!”

Fred frowned, taken aback by Fao's responses. He pushed the door open slightly, hanging round the side. "What's going on?"

“He was upset, I came to sit with him. He’s terrified, leave him alone.” Fao’s voice was stronger than he felt, but he was suddenly consumed by the desire to protect the younger boy. 

"Terrified? What's going on?"

“You know what’s going on. You were with him.”

"Still on that? You know it's over, kid. You can't keep going on at it, it's not going to help anyone. You've said what you wanted, why don't we leave it?"

Fao narrowed his eyes. “Look at him, he’s scared shitless. Leave him alone.” 

"He's had his time, Fao. He's gotta come out and do some other stuff."

Fao stood up. “Hey, no. Don’t tell him what to do. You’re the reason he’s scared.”

Fred raised his hands between them. "I think you've got something mixed up here. Why don't we take a breath and head downstairs, clear our heads?"

“I won’t let you touch him. He’s so scared.” Fao snapped. 

"I'm not gonna touch him."

“Yeah, sure. I heard him come in. And I know what he’s said to me.”

Fred frowned, confused. "Maybe we should have this conversation away from Finn."

“I thought you were better than the shit I had to deal with, Fred.”

"I think you've got the wrong end of the stick, kid."

Fao’s hands clenched into fists. “Sure.”

"Why don't we take five minutes and then have a chat like adults downstairs?"

Fao hesitated, the fear flaring. “Fine.”

"Right. Good. Why don't you go to your room so I can see Finn?"

“I’m not leaving him alone with you.”

"He's fine."

Fao turned to Finn. “Finn, do you want to be alone with him?”

He didn’t answer, looking between the two with wide, scared eyes.

“I won’t let him if you don’t want him to.”

Finn whined, everything just too much. He pulled the blanket over his head as he shifted, hands changing into paws.

“Oh.” Fao breathed. “Shit.”

"Oh, Finn." Fred shook his head. So much for avoiding that.  

Fao backed away from Fred, suddenly very afraid of him. 

"You gonna let me get him?"

“And do what to him?”

"Take him downstairs."

“You’re not going to hurt him?”

"Of course not." He said softly. "We'd never do that. He's got all his wolf stuff downstairs."

“Oh.”

[katonion]

My ninth square for @badthingshappenbingo and my fourth prompt for @amonthofwhump ‘s AMOW Winter Whumperland 2023!

Bad Things Happen Bingo:

Prompt: Headache/Migraine

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

AMOW Winter Whumperland 2023:

Prompt: Sedatives

[ofyorkshire]

.....drugging threads would be sooooooo!!! so cathartic.

[jedi-lothwolf]

Winter Whumperland Day 4: The Grinch (Sedative)

Fandom: Spider-verse

Warnings: Drugs and drug related jokes

Summary: Hobie is sitting in the clocktower, watching the city, when a young villain decides to ruin his fun.

Part two soon

    Spider sense was helpful. Hobie sat at the top of the clock tower in his city just watching the people. Sure it wasn't peaceful but something about the way they crowded the street reassured him.

    It had been a while since everything was so calm. Even if calm didn't mean the same thing in what seemed to be every other universe. Hobie looked at his watch for the time. Even though he was on the clock tower the face was well, under him.

    Then it happened. As his spider sense went off, Hobie slipped on his mask before turning around to see the villain of the week. Before he could say anything, the villain had already started her attack.

    The villain was around 5'6 with blonde hair that was in two messy buns. She had bright red eyes and an unnerving smile. Her clothes were mostly dark blue and blacks with her weapons in two thigh holsters and a knife in her long black shoes. She looked to be around his age.

    Standing, Hobie made his way towards the girl. He wondered what made her this way for a moment before deciding to tire her up and ask. It wasn't worth it to turn her in if she could change. Not with his government and he'd hate to see someone so young die.

    The villain grabbed her weapon to relieve a box. She grabbed a needle from the box and placed it in her palm.

    Needles were never a good sign. Most of the time they were used as some scientific power up that was a real pain in the ass to deal with. But something seemed different this time.

    After a moment, Hobie started to grow more anxious about the needle. He realized it couldn't have been for her or she would have used it already. That only left him.

    As the girl grew closer Hobie tried to grab the needle from her hand. He missed her hand and she stabbed the needle into his skin. The clear liquid flowed into his body. Then she jumped back and threw the syringe.

    "That's some dangerous litter now. Might wanna pick that up."

    "You're funny."

    "What? There's a lot of junkies around here! Plus littering is a crime." Hobie tried to laugh off the incident. He smiled a little under his mask and took another swing at the villain.

    Then he started to feel the drug. He didn't feel bad, just tired. Very tired. The world was thrown off balance. Everything felt somewhat foggy, like he hadn't slept for days. He needed to wrap this up.

    The girl smiled. "Feel'n funny?" She giggled.

    "Wouldn't you like to know." Hobie started to stumble over his feet. He felt his body give as he fell to the ground. He watched the villain walk towards him.

    "Nighty night."

    Then the world went black.

[wintertimewhump]

Magic / powered whumpees getting their powers taken away before being imprisoned is all cool and good, but you know what I like more than that? Situations where it’s impossible / undesirable to take away Whumpee’s powers, and instead a prison built specially to hold them and their powers must be created.

TW: medical whump, captivity

Fire-breathing whumpee kept submerged head to toe in cold water, a tube and mask keeping them breathing with barely enough oxygen.

Whumpee that can manipulate water kept in a cell that feels like an oven, constantly drying any condensation, the only water they’re given being in the form of injections while they sleep.

Super strong whumpee bound with reinforced chains or cords that individually they could easily break- too bad there’s dozens of them, wrapped around every limb, around their waist, their neck, across their chest in an X.

Psychic whumpee forced to wear a helmet that blocks their brain waves, trapping them inside their own head. Additionally, a psychic whumpee that needs to know their surroundings in order to interact with them being subjected to sensory deprivation.

Whumpee whose power comes from their emotions being restrained to a hospital bed while an IV drip fills their bloodstream with sedative, emotion-dulling chemicals that put them in a stupor.

Whumpee with ocular powers made to wear a thick blindfold that doesn’t let even a trace of light through, kept on them for so long they start to forget what their captors’ faces look like.

Just. Whumpee in a cell specifically designed for them, knowing that their captor has planned for any contingency. They won’t be getting out easily.