Dean With A Hoddie In 1x12 “Faith”

Russell Crowe in Mystery, Alaska

Ice pack

The Greatest Showman (2017)

MedWhump May - Day 1

@medwhumpmay

Under Anesthesia

Original Work - (No Title Yet)

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Cyril let out another soft groan from the backseat. Kemp risked a look back and in the shifting shadows cast by the streetlights passing by, he could see the sweat glistening on Cyril’s pale face. Kemp twisted forward again to face the road, swerving back into the correct lane.

“Cyril?” He called.

No answer.

“Cyril! Talk to me.”

“Hurts.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Not-” Cyril let out a whine as Kemp took an exit at the last second. “Not your fault.” Cyril’s words were breathless, and quieter than before.

“It is.” Kemp nodded, though he knew Cyril couldn’t see him. “It is my fault.”

Silence.

“Cyril?”

Cyril moaned.

Kemp dragged a shaking hand through his hair. “Just keep pressure on it, okay?” He read the street names, looking for the right one. In the dark, they were hard to read. So Kemp had to slam on the brakes when he spotted River Street.

Cyril gasped.

Kemp winced. “Sorry.”

Kemp parked the car and hurried around to the backseat. He flung open the door and hit the ceiling of the car to turn on the interior light. Cyril lay across the backseat, his head towards Kemp and his feet braced on the opposite car door. His eyes were closed.

Kemp bent down over Cyril’s upside down face and gently patted his pale cheek. “Hey, Cyril.”

Cyril’s eyes opened. “Hey.”

Kemp could not keep the smile from his lips. “Hey.” He almost got lost in those beautiful eyes. “Hey.” He said again, relaxing a little.

Cyril leaned into Kemp’s hand, his skin cool and clammy.

“Are we there?” Cyril whispered.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re there. I need to get you inside. Is- Is that okay?”

Cyril nodded and closed his eyes. Kemp guessed that he was bracing himself for the pain. As gently as he could, Kemp gathered Cyril into his arms. Cyril managed to stay mostly quiet, but Kemp didn’t miss the soft moan that Cyril tried to hide. And he didn’t miss how Cyril’s head rested on his shoulder. Warm and heavy. It felt right.

Kemp carried Cyril up the garden path and to the front door. “Cyril?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you ring the doorbell? Hands are full.”

“Oh, right, yeah.”

Cyril reached out with a shaking hand and rang the doorbell. He left a bloody fingerprint on the button.

“Jonah.” Kemp sighed in relief when the door finally opened.

An older gentleman stood there with mussed white hair and a flannel robe. He paused for a moment then nodded. “Oh, Mr. Kemp. How can I help you?”

Kemp felt the warm weight of Cyril’s head against his shoulder again. “I need that favor.”

The gentleman stood aside and let Kemp and Cyril inside the house.

Sometime later, Kemp was hunched over the kitchen table, nursing a cup of strong black coffee. Jonah was in the back room, working on Cyril. He would fix Cyril. He would fix Kemp’s mistake. Kemp took another sip of the coffee and winced at the bitterness.

It was Kemp’s fault that Cyril was injured. All his fault.

“Mr. Kemp.”

Kemp started and stood up too fast. He steadied himself by placing a palm on the tabletop. Jonah stood in the doorway, wearing white gloves and a surgical mask pulled down around his neck. “He’s asking for you.”

“What, it’s done?”

Jonah shook his head.

Kemp hesitated a moment. What was going on? What was the problem?

Kemp ducked into the brightly lit back room.

“Cyril?”

Cyril winced and opened his eyes. He was pale and shaking and sweating. He looked terrible. “I’m sorry.”

Kemp stayed in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t like hospitals.”

Kemp hesitated a moment, shuffling his feet. He sighed and walked over to Cyril’s side. He looked so… scared. What was wrong with him?

“This isn’t a hospital.” Kemp offered.

Cyril looked around at the equipment that surrounded the bed he lay on. “It kind of is.”

“You have to let him work. You’re hurt.” Kemp gestured to the gunshot wound in Cyril’s thigh.

“Stay with me.”

Kemp met Cyril’s eyes. He was definitely scared.

“Until I’m asleep.”

Kemp pulled up a chair and held out his hand. Cyril’s pain-etched face softened a little. Almost a smile. And he took Kemp’s hand.

Kemp held his hand until Jonah came in. Until Cyril faded out. And all through the surgery.

2x11 || 2x13

The Cold Light of Day (2012)

babe wake up new whumpay prompts dropped. like last year, im posting early for more time to prepare

Welcome to Whumpay 2024! Up above you will see the basic prompt list and down below the cut you will see it written out in a list, as well as three mini challenges (and by extension, the extreme edition)

Rules are the same as usual

You only have to use one (Or two, if you’re doing the extreme edition.) prompt a day! But you’re welcome to use multiple if you want to, and it still counts for both.

I know the description of the blog says it’s a writing event, but if you want to draw or make other kinds of content, that’s cool too.

Have fun, tag content warnings (such as noncon, graphic violence, etc) and try not to be crushed by the mortifying ordeal of posting your writing.

This is a pretty chill event so you can start posting whenever but I’ll be reblogging posts made to the #Whumpay2024 tag throughout May. For real this time.

These all also apply to these three special mini challenges, consisting of a 7 day, a 10 day, and a 14 day prompt list.

EXTREME EDITION: This year's extreme edition doesn't have its own prompt list, but instead, youll be taking all three mini challenges in order along with the main prompt list. Some of these fit pretty well, others less so.

1 - Mad Science:

Day 1: Strapped To An Operating Table

Day 2: Paralytic Drug

Day 3: Made A Lab Rat

Day 4: Vivisection

Day 5: Truth Potion/Serum/Spell

Day 6: Russian Roulette

1 - Attacks, Mental & Physical:   

Day 7: Heart Attack

Day 8:  Asthma Attack

Day 9: Animal Attack

Day 10: Panic Attack

3 - Ineffective Medical Care:

Day 11: Medical Torture

Day 12: Withholding Medical Treatment

Day 13: Medication Tampering

Day 14: Injury Brushed Off

Day 15: No Anesthetic

4: Mindfuck

Day 16: Presumed Dead

Day 17: Memory Loss

Day 18: Stockholm Syndrome

Day 19: Phantom Pains

Day 20: Love Potion/Spell

Day 21: Role Reversal 

5. Nature's Revenge

Day 22: Slowly Running Out Of Air

Day 23: Natural Disaster 

Day 24: Struck By Lightning

Day 25: Snowed In

Day 26: Heatstroke

6. Traps & Trauma

Day 27: Caught In A Net

Day 28: Traumatic Touch Aversion

Day 29: Used As Bait

Day 30:  Flashbacks

Day 31: Choose Who Lives

Mini challenge #1: Torture

#1: Tortured For Information

#2: Whipping

#3: Branding

#4: Begging To Be Killed

#5: Recorded/Broadcast Torture

#6: False Execution

#7: Shock Collar

Mini Challenge #2: Dialogue

#8: “Why are you doing this?”

#9: “Don’t look.”

#10: “You look awful.”

#11: “Who did this to you?”

#12: “No one is coming for you.”

#13: “No one cares about me.”

#14: “Don’t lie to me.”

#15: “Stay with me, please.”

#16: ”You’re scaring me!”

#17: “You’re a monster.”

Mini Challenge #3: Aftermath

#18: Fighting Against Caretaker 

#19: Seeking Revenge

#20: Taking The Blame

#21: Barely Conscious

#22: Disassociation

#23: Carried To Safety

#24: Scars

#25: Unhealthy Codependency 

#26: Infected Wound

#27: Survivor’s Guilt

#28: Touch Starvation

#29: Abandonment Issues

#30: Cradled In Someone’s Arms

#31: Adrenaline Crash

Alt Prompts:

Death Game

Came Back Wrong

Attack The Injury

Healing Malfunction

Left For Dead 

Mistaken Identity

Dazed

Trapped Under Rubble

Drowning

Disowned By Family

Hostage Situation

Have fun everybody!

MedWhump May - Day 2

Running out of time

Fandom - The Man from UNCLE (2015)

@medwhumpmay

Solo let out a soft: “Oh.”

Illya turned.

For one weightless moment, he saw Solo listing to the side. Head drooping. A flash of eyes, whites, rolled backwards. Illya caught him. He helped lower Solo to the floor while Solo apologized over and over.

He shouldered out of his jacket and folded it. “Here.” He murmured. He reached down and placed his hand under Solo’s head. “For your head.”

Solo lifted his head and let Illya place his jacket under it.

“Thanks.” Solo said. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do.” Illya settled beside Solo. He gently pulled back Solo’s shirt. Blood. A lot of blood. He found the wound on Solo’s side.

Solo hissed in pain. “It’s fine. Don’t-” Solo gasped and jumped as Illya pressed his handkerchief to the weeping wound.

“How long have you had this?” Illya looked away from the wound and leaned over Solo, looking into his eyes. Solo was still sweating from running earlier.

Solo averted his gaze, looking up at the ceiling instead. He smiled, but the lines of pain in his face told a different story. “Not sure.”

Keeping one hand on the wound, Illya placed his other hand on Solo’s cheek. “Solo.”

Solo still didn’t meet his eyes.

Illya stroked Solo’s cheek with his thumb. “Solo.” Illya repeated.

Finally, Solo met his gaze.

“This is a bad wound.” Illya stated, his fingers becoming wet as blood seeped through the handkerchief already.

“It’s not.” Solo panted softly. “It’s not.”

“You should not have hidden it. You just had surgery-”

“We were busy!” Solo ground out. He was paler than before.

“You are taking blood thinners!”

“I was covering you!”

Illya sighed. He got up. “I’m going to see if there’s any medical supplies.” He took Solo's hand and placed it over the wound to keep pressure on it.

Illya didn’t find much, a few band-aids, expired aspirin, and an ancient thermometer. He found some old bedsheets however and carried them back to Solo’s side.

When he returned, Solo was a few shades paler, sweat beading on his forehead. Illya held his hand to Solo’s cheek again.

“You’re cold.”

“No, I’m good. I’m good. I just need a minute to rest.” Solo murmured. His hand had fallen away from his side, no longer putting pressure. There was a small pool of blood on the floor beneath him.

Illya began to rip the bedsheets and press them to the wound. Illya piled more makeshift bandages on top. He looked back at Solo's face. His head was sagging to the side. His eyes were half closed.

“You are running out of time. As soon as you’re out, I’m picking you up and we’re going.”

Solo was deathly white. “M’fine.” He sighed.

Illya bandaged the leaking wound as best as he could with the bedsheets. He tied it as tight as he dared around Solo’s ribs.

“We are getting out of here now.”

No answer.

“Solo?” Illya looked up from his work.

Napoleon’s eyes were closed and he lay very still.

“Napoleon?” Illya reached up and pressed two fingers to the pulse point on Solo’s neck. His heart rate was quick. Much too quick.

Illya grabbed Solo and pulled him into his arms. “We’re going.”

Solo said nothing, limp and clammy against Illya’s body.

Sean Bean in Sharpe’s Honour

Carnivàle S02E05

I’m dead. The sounds he makes. I am dead.

Whumpay - Day 2

Main Challenge - Mad Science - Paralytic Drug Mini Challenge 2 - Torture - Whipping Original Work - Doorway in the Sky

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Can’t be that bad, right?”

Ash frowned at Mel and sighed loudly out of his nose. “You ready then?”

Mel nodded.

Ash jumped, slammed his hands down on the table, and swept their food trays off. The hard plastic clattered loudly on the tile and the food painted the jumpsuits of the nearby people.

Mel’s wide eyes goaded Ash on.

“The fuck did you say?” Ash shouted.

Then he threw himself across the table and tackled Mel to the ground. One punch to the nose got Mel’s blood flowing. Several guards jogged over and tried to pull him off her. Soon enough, Ash felt a prick on the back of his neck, and then nothing.

He stopped wrestling Mel and reached back. There was a dart sticking out of his neck. He yanked it out and saw the yellow band about the metal casing. His lips went numb. His fingers tingled. His hands fell to his sides.

And Ash slumped to the tile floor, hitting it cheek first. It hurt like a bitch.

Mel lay beside him and met his eyes. She grinned through blood-stained teeth.

Ash would have smiled if he could. But he could not. He had been hit with the yellow banded dart. The paralytic. Oh good.

Ash’s eyes slipped mostly closed as he was hauled from the floor. He could still hear and feel everything. Plastic restraints were tightened around his wrists and ankles. Which didn’t make much sense since he was paralyzed.

Ash watched the floor flash by beneath him. His head, hanging limp, bobbed with every step the two orderlies holding him up took. Their grip on his arms hurt. But there was nothing he could do.

They were buzzed through several doors. The hallways became quieter. The floors became cleaner. Whispers all around him.

Finally, Ash was brought into an office and propped up in a soft chair. With his chin resting on his chest, all Ash could see was the plush, patterned carpet and a pair of shiny, black shoes.

Drool dripped from the side of his mouth.

“Lift her head.”

A pair of sweaty hands clamped onto Ash’s cheeks and propped his head against the back of the chair. When the orderly stepped away, Ash was looking up into the face of Dr. Palmer.

Dr. Palmer gave Ash a small smile then held up his penlight. “You know what to do, look into the light.”

He shone the light into Ash’s eyes and leaned in close.

Ash could smell coffee and disinfectant on him.

“Mmhmm, pupillary response is good.” Dr. Palmer leaned back. “Good, good. Now I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions, would you please blink once for ‘Yes’ and twice for ‘No’? Demonstrate by blinking once for ‘Yes, I understand the instructions.’”

Ash rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“This will go much quicker and easier if you cooperate.”

Ash blinked once.

“Thank you.” Dr. Palmer made a note on his clipboard. “Now, is your name Ashley Durham?”

Ash blinked once.

“Is your birthday the twenty-second of June?”

Ash blinked once.

“Do you know why you’ve been brought to my office today?”

Ash blinked twice.

Dr. Palmer chuckled and set down his clipboard, taking off his glasses to polish them a little with a handkerchief. “Ms. Durham, Ashley, I think you know why you’ve been brought to my office today. You were fighting. Again.”

Ash looked around the office as Dr. Palmer talked. He spotted the curtains on one wall almost immediately.

Dr. Palmer’s eyes flicked up and focused on something behind Ash’s left shoulder. He nodded. The pair of orderlies picked up Ash by the shoulders again, holding him upright in a standing position. Ash’s head fell back and he was able to see Dr. Palmer’s faint smile.

Dr. Palmer turned around, walked away, and took a cane from a stand across the room.

“Ashley, why would you want to hurt your best friend?”

Ash would have shrugged if he could. He just couldn’t move any part of his body right now, other than his eyes. And he could not help but look at the curtains again.

Dr. Palmer returned to Ash and the orderlies, brushing against the curtains as he went.

There was a flash of sunlight as the curtains rippled.

Ash drew in a quick breath and felt tears form in his eyes.

“Seeing you hurt your friend has hurt me.” Dr. Palmer stopped in front of Ash, blocking his view of the curtains.

This was Ash’s first glimpse of sunlight in months.

Months that had stretched on and on, feeling like decades. Or centuries. It has been so long since Ash had felt the warmth of sun on his skin. So long without daylight.

Dr. Palmer had a window. The only window Ash had seen in the Institute.

Ash hungered for sunlight. He felt something feral and innate rise within his belly and chest.

Dr. Palmer was still speaking.

Ash ignored him until Dr. Palmer took Ash’s chin in his hand. Warm, soft fingers stroked Ash’s cheek.

“Ashley, would you please listen to me? I want to help you.”

Dr. Palmer angled Ash’s face away from the window and towards him.

“Blink once for yes, twice for no.” Dr. Palmer’s voice dropped down to a murmur.

Ash could feel his breath on his cheek.

“Are you listening to me, Ashley?”

Ashley blinked twice.

Dr. Palmer sighed and removed his hand from Ash’s chin and wiped the drool off his fingers on the front of Ash’s jumpsuit.

“You’ve let me down. And what’s worse is that you’ve let yourself down.” Dr. Palmer stepped back and nodded at the two orderlies holding Ash.

Their grips tightened.

Dr. Palmer disappeared. Then his voice came from behind.

“This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

Ash focused on the curtain. The tiniest sliver of sunlight was poking, needle-like, through a gap.

The blow came down upon Ash’s shoulders. He heard it before he felt it.

Ash gasped and choked on the drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

The cane landed again on his back, a swift stinging blow. Loud as a gunshot in Ash’s ears. Bruising. The cane felt as though it were made of fire.

Another blow.

Ash heard himself groan, low and guttural.

Another blow.

Ash panted. Felt tears rolling down his cheeks.

That little finger of sunlight. Through a window. From the outside.

The last blow.

Dr. Palmer reappeared. He was saying something again to Ash but Ash had long ago tuned him out. Ash was dragged out of the office, back down the clean hallways, out of the quiet, and back into madness.

Hours later, Mel returned to their cell. The door buzzed shut and the lights out warning was given.

“Ash.” Mel whispered close to his ear.

Ash, laying belly-down on his cot, turned his head.

In the harsh fluorescent lights from above, Mel’s nose was purple and gray with bruising. One eye was blackened and swollen.

“Tell me.” Mel murmured.

Ash looked into her eyes. “I saw sunlight.”

Mel’s face crumpled into a watery smile and she kissed Ash’s forehead. “Thank you.”

“When we go,” Ash spoke so quietly he could barely hear himself.

“We go through there.”

“I’ll go with you anywhere.”

Ash turned his head away and faced the wall again. He stared at the hundreds of tally marks he had made. One for every day he had been in the Institute. “One more thing.” He whispered.

Mel’s fingers brushed gently through his hair. “What?”

The lights went out.

“Before we go, I’m killing him.”