Mediwhump May - Day 6
Mediwhump May - Day 6
"Needlephobic"
(Mystery Men - 1999)
@mediwhumpmay
“What was he wearing?” Roy limped over to the curb, Eddie guiding him by the arm.
“Shingles.” Eddie grunted as they sat down together.
Jeff shielded his eyes from the flashing blue and red lights across the street. “He had fashioned them into some kind of armor. My forks were nearly useless.”
Roy grimaced as he stretched out his leg.
“You got him eventually, right in the ass.” Eddie added.
“True.” Jeff sighed as he counted his leftover ammunition. “He deserved it. Especially for the nails. Why does one decide to use a nail gun when interrupting a performance of Shakespeare in the Skate Park?”
“Roofing.” Roy grasped the long nail embedded in the meat of his inner thigh and pulled. It slid free, painfully, covered in blood. Roy let out a long whine and held back a sob. “His theme is roofing.” He rasped.
“Oh.” Eddie nodded. “The shingles, the nail gun, the-”
“The rebellion against roofless theater productions?” Jeff finished.
“So weird.” Roy sighed. “But dedicated.”
Eddie caught sight of the bloody nail that Roy held. “Oh no, Roy, you should have let the medics take that out.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Roy waved him off. “I’ve had worse. Besides, they’re busy with Mercutio.”
“I suppose-” Eddie cut himself off. “Oh come on, Roy, you’ve got one in your hand!” He grabbed Roy’s wrist and held it up.
The long nail had flown through Roy’s palm and the tip poked through the back of his hand. It wasn’t bleeding much, but that was because the nail was plugging the hole.
Jeff frowned. “How many did he get you with, Roy?”
“I dunno.” Roy shrugged. He was tired and sore and thinking was hard. “ A few.”
“A few?” Eddie stood up. “How do you not know? Hang on, let’s do a count. I can’t believe I have to do this for you.”
“I can believe it.” Jeff stood up too.
“Going to need a metal detector.”
“Come on, guys. I just wanna go home.” Roy whined.
“Okay, so one in the hand.” Eddie ignored him and began to circle, looking for other nails. “One in the boot. Ouch, straight through your foot.” “Yeah, I was nailed to the stage for a minute.” Roy laughed weakly.
Jeff laughed as well then quickly stopped. “The one from his thigh.”
“Three so far.” Eddie nodded.
“I think that’s it.” Roy grumbled.
“Let’s at least get you checked out.” Eddie offered his hand to help Roy up from the curb. “Also when was the last time you got your tetanus shot?”
“My what?”
Eddie looked over at Jeff, who nodded silently.
“Let’s go to the clinic.”
“Aw, man.” Roy whined.
Ten minutes later, they piled out of Eddie’s car and into the 24-hour clinic. It was quiet around midnight so the wait was pretty short. A nurse took Roy back, and Eddie and Jeff stayed in the waiting room.
“How long do you think it’ll take?” Eddie asked Jeff, flipping through a sticky magazine.
“Oh.” Jeff thought for a moment. “Five minutes.” He answered.
“How about ten?”
“You’re on. I’ll watch the clock.”
Four minutes later, the nurse reappeared.
Jeff stood up. “You owe me dinner.”
The nurse walked over. “Would either of you be able to accompany your friend? He’s…” She searched for a word. “Agitated.”
Eddie stood too. “We’ll both come back.”
The nurse led them back to the examination room. Roy immediately tried to leave as soon as she opened the door.
“Eddie, I’m fine. Let’s leave. Get me out of here.” Roy spoke quickly in a low mutter. “Come on, Jeff, let’s go, let’s go.”
“Whoa, there.” Eddie gently corralled Roy back in, like a spooked horse. “They’re just going to give you a little check-up, Roy.”
“And a shot!” Roy’s voice almost squeaked. “I don’t-... I don’t like…” “Don’t like needles.” Eddie finished.
Roy sat back down on the exam table, pale and sweating. “Yeah.” He whispered.
“We know, that’s why we’re here.” Eddie reassured. “It’ll be really quick. You don’t want tetanus, right?”
“Lock-jaw, Roy.” Jeff chimed in, seating himself in a nearby chair.
“That actually sounds better than the shot.” Roy said.
“You won’t even feel it.” Eddie said. “Besides, you’ve been stabbed before, Roy, how are you scared of needles?”
“I dunno. I’d rather be stabbed. Can they do that? Use a knife? For the shot?” Roy looked around. “Or a scalpel. Anything but…” He trailed off.
“You know.” Jeff tapped his chin in thought. “This reminds me of the time we saved the blood drive nurses from the Blood Bandits and you lost so much blood that they just strapped you in the chair to give you blood with that absolutely enormous needle-”
“Okay, okay.” Roy hopped off the table. “I’m leaving.”
“I can’t let you do that, Roy.” Eddie stood in his way. “As your friend, I am going to make sure you get this shot.”
Roy laughed, pretended to back off, then feinted to the left, and made a dash to the right. He tried to get to the door. But he was full of nails and too slow.
Eddie grabbed him. Jeff stood in front of the door.
And then the doctor walked in.
“What have we here?” She asked.
All three of them stopped struggling.
“Nothing.” Roy straightened his coat.
“Nothing.” Eddie let go of Roy.
“Nothing.” Jeff picked up a fork he’d dropped.
“I see.” The doctor put down her clipboard. “Well, which one of you is Roy?”
Jeff pointed at Roy.
“Thanks, man.” Roy sighed.
“I will take a bullet for you, Roy, but not a shot”
The doctor sighed. “So Roy, you had an accident with a…” She turned a page. “Nail?”
“Nail gun.” Eddie corrected.
“Okay, and how many nails?” “Three.” Roy sighed.
“We think.” Jeff added.
“You think?” The doctor raised an eyebrow.
“Pretty sure.” Eddie admitted.
“Uh-huh.” The doctor paused for a moment, looked over each of them, then proceeded. “Well, let’s get those nails out, Roy. Then we’ll go from there.”
Roy nodded, almost green.
The doctor and an assistant bandaged the thigh wound and extracted the nail from Roy’s foot. The hand was last. Slowly, carefully, the doctor took the nail out and dressed the wound. She kept up a conversation with Roy the whole time, who was visibly relaxing.
Once that was done, Roy sighed. “That wasn’t so bad. Could we save the-... the shot for another day.”
“No, we can’t.” The doctor answered.
“Why not?”
“Because we’ve already done it.” The doctor stepped back. She had been blocking Roy’s line of sight of his other arm.
The assistant was currently pulling a needle out of Roy’s shoulder.
“Oh.” Roy swayed. And fainted.
“There he goes.” Eddie sighed.
“He’s reliable.” Said Jeff.
More Posts from Sticks-and-stones-are-great and Others
Mediwhump May - Stitches
(BBC Merlin)
@mediwhumpmay
Merlin didn’t know how long he had been hiding in the thorn bushes. The shouts of the bandits and their crunching footsteps in the snow had long died away. But he dared not move. He could not move.
The deep wound in his thigh made it impossible.
Merlin shivered. The sun was going down.
The frigid, wet snow has soaked deeply into his clothes, contrasting with the hot and sticky blood oozing from his leg. Merlin sighed. Closed his eyes for only a moment. Just a moment. He was so tired.
So tired.
Snow had begun to fall again.
“Merlin!”
Merlin was shaken awake, thigh throbbing with fire. He gasped.
Bandits.
They were after him.
His eyes flew open and before he really saw anything, he sprang away from whatever had grabbed him. He struck out and tried to twist away from the grip on his arm.
“You idiot! Stop it!”
Merlin stopped. The voice was familiar. His vision cleared and Arthur’s face swam into view, cheeks pink with cold.
“What are you doing here?” Arthur’s voice was entirely too loud. The bandits would hear. They would find them. And Merlin was too tired to protect Arthur.
Merlin opened his mouth to warn Arthur.
Prince Arthur stuck his torch upright in the ground and began to haul his manservant to his feet, dusting snow from his clothes. “We have been looking for you for hours. What are you doing napping in a bush? In the snow?”
As soon as Arthur let go, Merlin crumpled, pain flaring in his leg. He gasped as he hit the ground.
“What is wrong with you now?”
“Leg.” Merlin whispered.
Arthur didn’t try to pick him up this time but instead brought the torch closer to examine Merlin’s leg.
“You’re hurt.” A rough gloved hand probed the wound.
Merlin jumped and cried out. “Yes.” He panted. “Bandits… attacked me while I was-”
“Gathering herbs for Gaius.” Arthur finished, removing his hand quickly. “I know, he asked us to look for you when you didn’t come back. This is still bleeding, Merlin, we should- What should we do?”
Merlin saw Arthur looking at him for help, eyes wide, face white. Arthur was scared. Arthur didn’t know what to do.
Merlin swallowed and nodded, trying to focus. What would Gaius do?”
“I’m cold and-”
Before Merlin had finished speaking, Arthur had taken off his cloak and wrapped it around Merlin’s body.
Merlin smiled a little at the warmth and closed his eyes.
“And?” Arthur prodded him. “What else?”
Merlin opened his eyes again. “The wound, I need to look at it. Either bind it or sew it. Got to… got to clean it.”
“Can’t I just get you back to Gaius?” Arthur frowned. “He can fix you up.”
“No.” Merlin shook his head, the world spinning a little. “No, it’s still bleeding. I might not get back in time.”
“In time for what?”
Merlin gave Arthur a look.
Arthur met his gaze then nodded. “Right, yes, dying. Sorry.”
“Obviously.” Merlin sighed. He thought a moment more. “Can you start a fire?”
“It’ll be difficult with the snow.”
“I know.”
“I’ll do it.” Arthur got up. “I’ll get kindling. Don’t die while I’m gone.”
Merlin huffed out a laugh. “I’ll try.” He tried to put pressure on the wound and winced in pain.
Merlin drifted a little. Arthur came back pretty quickly and using the flint that Merlin carried in his bag, started a little campfire. Merlin finally began to warm, the feeling returning to his fingers and toes.
“Better?” Arthur asked, finally sitting down nearby.
Merlin nodded.
Arthur leaned forward. “Now what?”
Merlin swallowed hard. “I need to look at the wound, close to the light of the fire.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Arthur stood up again and helped Merlin slide closer to the fire.
“Thanks.” Merlin grunted and looked down at the slit in his pant-leg, dark with blood. “Do you have a knife so I could-”
Arthur leaned forward and just ripped the pant-leg open, revealing Merlin’s thigh and the ugly, oozing wound.
Merlin sighed. “Thanks again.”
“No problem.” Arthur looked at the wound. “That looks bad, Merlin.” His voice had become tight.
“I know.” Merlin opened his bag and began to dig around. “I think-... I think I have to suture it.”
“Like sewing? What are you going to use for needle and thread out here, idiot? I should have taken you to Gaius.”
Merlin held up his small sewing pouch under Arthur’s nose.
“What’s this?”
“My sewing kit.” Merlin smirked a little.
“You carry a sewing kit everywhere you go? You are such a girl, Merlin.”
“A prepared girl.”
“You have me there.” Arthur admitted.
Merlin unrolled the pouch and pulled out the roll of gut and a curved, sharpened fish bone. His trusty needle. He’d made it last summer and was rather proud of it.
Merlin prepared the needle and thread and sat up against his bag and Arthur’s rolled up cloak. This was the best view he was going to get of the wound. Merlin raised the needle.
“Wait, wait.” Arthur stopped him.
“What?”
Arthur gestured towards the wound. “Is that it? You’re not going to clean it? Or take something for the pain?”
Merlin frowned. “Arthur, Prince Dolt, we are in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing to clean it with. And I have no herbs for pain, nor any way to prepare them. My main concern is just not to lose enough blood that I die. So I will suture this. Bind it. And then we can get back to Gaius for the other things. Understand?”
Arthur had gone a little pale, but nodded.
Merlin took a breath and began to sew.
The first suture was awful. The second was worse.
Well, they were very neat. Gaius would be proud. But they hurt so much on top of the fiery pain of the sword wound.
The third made sweat bead on Merlin’s forehead and upper lip. The fourth had him panting.
In the middle of the fifth, Arthur asked. “Does it hurt?”
Merlin didn’t take his eyes off his work and couldn’t really form words. He had just enough energy to grunt.
“Right, sorry.” Arthur kept quiet after that.
The sixth made the blood drain from Merlin’s face. He stopped counting after that. Or he lost count.
He tied off the last suture and cut the gut. Arthur pressed some strips of cloth into his hands and Merlin managed to bandage the wound, tying it with numb and blood-stained fingers.
His whole leg throbbed. The forest spun around him. Merlin closed his eyes.
A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other supported his knees. He floated away.
Whumptober 2023
Day 30: Bridal Carry
Merlin 4x02
@whumptober @whumptober-archive
Whumptober 2023 - No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.” Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”
Milo Ventimiglia as Peter Petrelli in Heroes (S04E08)
Sep-Oct 2024 Whump Events
autumn is approaching! 🍂 here's a long one, since october is the big month for creation events, and september has a lot going on this year too! so much to choose from!
i've also made a post detailing upcoming g/t events here on my g/t blog. you can check that out if you wanna do something for that community!
September events starting this month:
🔤 Alphabet of Whump (@alphabetofwhump), prompts here, a 26-day whump event
🧸 Sicktember (@sicktember), prompts here, a 30-day sickfic event (this is its last year)
💀 Whumptember (@whumptember), prompts here, a 30-day whump event
🎶Seven Songs of Suffering (@snakebites-and-ink), prompts here, a 1-week whump event taking place the second week of September
🐉 HTTYD Whump Week (@httyd-whump-week), prompts here, a 1-week HTTYD fandom whump event
😱 Horrortember (@horrortember), prompts here, a 30-day horror event
Single-day September celebrations:
🎊 International Whump Day is September 12th. Celebrate however you like!
💬 Comment Day is September 15th, info here: @comment-day. Leave some nice comments on your favorite creations! (Not whump specific)
October events starting next month:
🎃 Whumptober (@whumptober), prompts here, a 31-day whump event. this is also the most-participated-in whump event of the year, often attracting people outside the whump community.
🌩️ Voltober (@voltober), prompts coming soon, a 31-day whump event
💧 Angstober (@angstober), prompts here, a 31-day angst event
🔮 31 Days of Horror (@31-daysofhorror), prompts potentially coming soon, a 31-day horror event
📼 Halloween Horror Bingo (@halloweenhorrorbingo), signups coming soon, a horror bingo-prompt event
🫀Goretober is a flexible gore event where people traditionally create their own prompt lists. If you don't want to make your own, there are many floating around in the Goretober tag already. Here's a few: one / two / three / four
📵 AI-less* Whumptober (@aiIesswhumptober), prompts here, a 31-day whump event
*Note to clear up any confusion brought on by the name: Neither Whumptober event includes or promotes the use of AI-generated works, the latter event is just more intense about it. Whumptober's AI policy is "We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created" and AILWT's AI policy is "No AI content of any kind is allowed". False claims spread last year about Whumptober allowing AI, but this is not and has never been the case, and I want to make sure no misinformation is spread from my post.
Merry Whump of May - Day 3
(Mystery Men - 1999)
@themerrywhumpofmay
Roy ducked into the bathroom, flung on the cold tap and splashed water on his face. It stung. Lukewarm and stale. Blood dripped into the grimy porcelain sink. Roy drank from the faucet and spat out pink water. He caught sight of his reflection in the smudged mirror. The lightbulb above flickered and blinked. He touched his cheek and winced.
That would be a black eye tomorrow.
The lightbulb flickered out and the bathroom went dark.
“Ah, man.” Roy sighed, reached up, and unscrewed the dead bulb.
Bulb in hand, he pushed back out into the bar.
“Come on, Roy, chip in.” Eddie said as he counted cash out on the bar. Jeff was adding coins to the mix. The bartender was standing behind the bar, looming over them, arms crossed.
“What’s all this?” Roy slipped the dead bulb in his jacket pocket. He would tell the bartender about it in a minute.
Jeff looked back, nose crusted in blood. “We are paying the gentlemen for the damages done to his establishment in the scuffle.”
They happened to be walking by half an hour ago when they heard screaming coming from the bar. Turned out that five or so guys were robbing the place. Of course they had to step in. And it had gone the way it usually did. Badly.
But that’s what superheroes did. They tried.
“Damages?” Roy sidled up and stuffed his hands into his jeans pocket for his wallet. “What damages? We got the guys, didn’t we?”
“Well…” Eddie started and trailed off as the bartender strode around the bar.
“Broken window?” The bartender pointed to one of the large front windows, shattered glass lying all around on the floor.
Roy frowned. He was tired, and dizzy, and sat down on a barstool. “When did that even happen?”
“Two of them threw you through it, Roy.” Eddie supplied.
Roy nodded, then stopped, because his head hurt too much for that much movement. “Right, right.”
“Tables and chairs.” The bartender continued. HIs shouting was painfully loud.
A table or two leaned on broken legs and a few chairs lay in pieces.
Roy did remember falling into those. So did his back and ribs.
“And the upholstery!” The bartender pointed at one of the booths, the red leather pierced with several forks.
“That was him.” Roy pointed at Jeff. “He’s the fork guy.” “Thanks, Roy.” Jeff rolled his eyes and shoved his change across the bar. “Pay up already.”
Roy opened his sad, deflated wallet and pulled out his last few ones. “All I got.” And slapped it on the bar. “I’m going.”
And now he had no more money until payday. Great. Just great. He moved towards the door to the outside, limping a little. His knee was swollen and stiff.
The bartender blocked his path. “Uh-uh, oh no, look at this place. That isn’t nearly enough!”
Roy stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, one hand found the dead lightbulb. His fingers wrapped around it as the bartender continued to shout.
Roy nodded a little. “I understand. I can come back tomorrow and help clean-”
He was cut off. The bartender continued to point out every bit of damage, a finger jabbed into Roy’s sore shoulder.
Roy lowered his eyes. He grit his teeth. Breathe in. His head pounded. Breathe out. His heart raced. Felt the blood leave his face. He balled his hands into fists. Pushed past the guy.
Stumbled into the alleyway. Trying to breathe. Trying to stay standing.
Rouy staggered as far as he could go and leaned against the cool, brick wall.
Finally his ears stopped ringing. Someone was talking to him.
Roy looked up.
“Roy, you okay?”
Eddie and Jeff stood there, Eddie’s hand on his shoulder.
“We did break quite a lot of things, but he was quite unpleasant to you, Roy. Don’t let it get to you.” Jeff was trying to scratch away the blood from his nose.
Roy just focused on breathing.
“You’re not looking so hot.” Eddie sighed. “Are you hurt?”
“A bit.” Roy panted. “Maybe. Not really. No. I’m fine. I just- You know. Yelling. I’m fine. I think I’m gonna go-” He took his hands out of his jacket pockets.
“Jesus, Roy!” Eddie exclaimed. “Oh boy, do we need to get something on that. Jeff, you got any gauze left?”
“What’s wrong?” Roy blinked slowly.
Jeff did a double-take. “Oh my lord. I’m going to be-” He retched a little. “How did you do that?”
“What?” Roy was getting annoyed now.
“Your hand.” Eddie gripped his wrist. “Don’t touch anything.”
Roy looked down at his hand.
The lightbulb.
He had gripped it so hard that it burst. Exploding into his palm and fingers. His whole right hand was covered in blood and glass splinters. Funny. He couldn’t even feel it.
Blood pattered down onto the gravel of the alleyway. “Hospital.” Eddie ordered.
“Hospital.” Jeff gagged.
“Ah, man.” Roy fainted.
TW: MEDWHUMP/MEDICAL LANGUAGE
Hi everyone! @whumpetywhumpwhump here- I noticed there doesn't seem to be an official Medwhump May running this year, so I'm running one myself :)
I appreciate it's pretty late in the game to be releasing prompts, but I was waiting to see whether the official page was going to post anything before deciding to start mine. Hopefully a few of you would like to get involved (even if it is short notice lol)
RULES!
No AI-generated content
Please tag this account if you post your challenge submissions on Tumblr and use the tag 'medwhump may' (as in the tags of this post)
For completionists, all 31 days must be completed (using either the daily prompt or an alt prompt)
When creating content for chronic illnesses and seizures, PLEASE USE THE RELEVANT WHUMP TAGS INSTEAD OF THE GENERAL TAGS. e.g 'seizure whump' rather than just 'seizures'. This avoids important tags being flooded with whump fics
Have fun!
I will update these rules if necessary! Happy whumping!
Please reblog this to get the word out :)
Whumpay - Day 9
Main Challenge - Attacks, Mental & Physical - Animal Attack Mini Challenge 9 - Dialogue - “Don’t look.” Original Work - Ghost Walker
“Don’t look, don’t look.” Troy pressed a towel to Tate’s leg.
“Ahh, fuck.” Tate screwed up his eyes and laid back down. “Stop, please.” He begged.
“Gotta stop the bleeding.” Troy muttered. The towel was soaking through. Hot and sticky blood.
“Hurts.” Tate moaned and squirmed under Troy’s tight grip.
“You were a great distraction, kid.” Troy reached for another towel and found none. How had he already used them all? He needed to go get more. Tate’s blood was dripping off the makeshift bandage and pooling on the cold garage floor.
“Yeah?” Tate sighed. “You get the documents?”
“Oh yeah, got them all.” Troy prepared to stand. “I gotta go get more towels. Hold the towel there, okay?”
Tate sat up a little and Troy watched him turn green.
“Oh man, that’s a lot of blood.” Tate’s voice rose an octave. He was focusing on the oozing wound. Zeroing in on it.
“Don’t look.”
“How? How don’t I look at it? It’s everywhere, Troy!”
Troy reached out and grabbed one of Tate’s gloved hands. “Here.” He pressed Tate’s hand to the sodden, bloody towel. “Hold this here, and,” Troy took Tate’s other hand and gently placed it over Tate’s eyes. “Cover your eyes. I’ll be right back.”
And Troy leapt up and jogged out of the garage, looking for more towels.
“I feel sick.” Tate whined distantly.
Troy was only a minute or two. He returned to Tate’s side with an armful of towels and a water bottle. Tate was still putting pressure to the wound.
“Good job, kid.”
“I’m cold.” Tate’s voice was thick and slurred as he shivered. “Can I look yet?”
“Don’t look, keep your eyes closed.” Troy helped lower him to the ground again, putting one of the towels under Tate’s head as he did so.
“That dog was mean.” Tate warbled.
Troy added more towels and pressure to the bite wound on Tate’s calf. “Yeah, he was taught to be mean. It wasn’t his fault.”
Tate sounded on the verge of tears now. “I shouldn’t have kicked him.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
When Troy looked up again, he saw tears leaking out of Tate’s closed eyes.
“It’s okay.” Troy repeated. “You’re okay.”
“I’m okay.” Tate sniffled.
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