Mediwhump May - Day 8

Reservoir Dogs (1992)

Y O U   L E F T   M E   T H E R E!! requested by anonymous

Merry Whump of May - Day 2

(Original characters/story)

@themerrywhumpofmay

The blood covering his hands made this impossible. And the broken arm didn’t really help.

Hesperus tried to loosen the wheel on his motorbike once again. But his fingers, slick with rain, and oil and blood, just kept slipping off the wrench.

He sat down hard in a puddle on the pavement, panting. More water soaked into his pants and boots. He curled the arm into his chest and held it there. It didn’t really help with the pain but it made the injury feel more stable. The heavy pack on his back rested on the ground. 

Yeah, he still had to make the delivery.

Guess he was walking the rest of the way.

After a few minutes of panting, eyes closed and teeth gritted, Hesper dragged himself to his feet. Swaying, he edged around the two bodies. Stopped a moment. Eyed the belt one wore.

Minutes later, Hesper peeked out of the alleyway, his left arm now stable with the belt holding it close to his chest. With his other hand, he steered his shattered motorbike.

No one had witnessed the fight. No one would know what he’d done. They’d jumped him. It was their fault. It was their fault they-

“Need a ride?”

Hesper looked up and saw Rafael. He almost started sobbing on the spot. 

Rafael quickly got off his bike. “Hesper?” His hand went towards Hesper’s shoulder. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Hesper glanced back at the entrance to the alley, where the bodies lay hidden. “How did you find me?”

“The wreck alert went off. Biometrics too. I’m on duty tonight. Did you wipe-out?”

Hesper opened his mouth. He wanted to say he’d been attacked. He wanted to say it wasn’t his fault that he’d killed them. He was defending himself. He was defending the delivery on his back.

Hesper swallowed. Blood and dirty rainwater on his tongue. “Y-yeah. Wiped out. Arm’s broken. Bike’s busted.”

Rafel looked over the belt strapping Hesper’s left arm to his chest. Hesper could feel his eyes roving. The other cuts and bruises being taken into account.

Rafael nodded then got back on his motorbike. “Should get you to a doc, I know one in-”

“No, there’s one near here.” Hesper shook his head. 

It wasn’t a memory.

Just a strange feeling. 

He knew that there was a doc around here. A good one. 

Hesper looked up and down the street. No one. Empty.

“I don’t know of one.” Rafael said as Hesper slid gingerly onto the bike behind him. 

“It’s weird.” Hesper murmured. “I think the clinic is in the back of a club. A green door, maybe.”

“You think?” Rafael started the bike. “Did you hit your head?”

“Probably.”

“I’m taking you to my doc, then we’ll finish the delivery together.” Rafael said.

“No!” Hesperus shook his head, making the world swim around him. “No, this one’s in the-...” He searched this feeling. “The Wheel! It’s a block away. The sign, it’s-”

“A neon eight-spoked wheel?” Rafael sighed. “You’re right, that is closer. Okay, let’s see if the doc is in. Hold on tight.”

Hesper wrapped his good arm around Rafael’s waist, blushing. He laid his head against Rafael’s back as they sped off.

Merry Whump of May - Day 1

(The Man From U.N.C.L.E. 2015)

@themerrywhumpofmay

“You should not be here.”

This was the first thing that Solo said to Illya in two weeks.

“Too bad.” Illya whispered and finished uncuffing Solo from the metal chair. The dim bulb above made it hard to parse Solo’s expression, as did the bruises. 

“You should have left.” Solo stood slowly, arm wrapped around his chest. He leaned over and spat dark blood on the floor before speaking again. “Why didn’t they bring you in?”

Illya jerked his head towards the door, holding out a pistol.

Solo took it.

Illya took the lead and left the room. “They tried.”

He heard Solo wheeze out a laugh softly behind him.

They finally got outside and Illya led the way to the first car he spotted, halfway down the street from the warehouse. It was unlocked. But no keys. 

While Illya hotwired the vehicle, Solo eased himself into the passenger seat, groaning in pain.

The engine rumbled into life.

Illya slammed the door closed and caught sight of Solo’s face. His head was back against the headrest and his brows were furrowed. The harsh light of day brought the bruises into sharp relief. Yellowing greenish contusions that were healing. And darker, reddish purple for newer ones. 

Illya gripped the steering wheel hard and set his foot against the gas. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Good.”

They sped off into the sunset.

An hour later, sun down and surrounded by dark trees, Illya pulled the car to the side of the road.

“We have arrived at milepost-” Illya turned and noticed his companion was asleep. “Solo.”

No answer.

Illya reached out and just barely touched his shoulder when Solo gasped awake. He pressed as far away from Illya as the car door would allow.

“Solo.” Illya retracted his hand and filed that reaction away for later. 

“Y-yes.” Solo relaxed a little. “What?”

“We have arrived at milepost 8. This is where we start walking.”

Solo sighed. “That sounds like the last thing I want to do.” His voice was hoarse.

Illya left the car and circled around to Solo’s door and opened it. “Too bad.”

Solo unfolded himself gingerly from the car. “Where-” He stopped to breathe. “Are we going?”

“Remote cabin.” Illya retrieved two bags from the side of the road from underneath some bushes, damp with dusk dew.

Solo limped over and took the map, compass, and bag Illya held out to him. “How remote?”

“We will arrive by dawn if we make good time.”

Solo swore, coughed, and swore again as he slung the bag over his shoulders. 

Illya paused for a moment and looked his partner up and down.

“What?” Solo asked. Hunched over. Already panting. 

“Can you?”

“Can I what?”

“Make good time?”

Solo straightened up immediately. Even in the darkness of night, Illya could see his jaw was set. Eyes gleaming.

“No pain, no gain.” Solo grated out. 

“That does not make any sense. Follow me.” Illya led the way into the dark trees.

A few hours later, Illya stopped and waited for Solo to catch up. “Water.”

Panting, Solo nodded.

They both drank from the canteens in the bags and caught their breath. The forest was thick with trees and brush and the hillsides were steep with slippery pine needles and rocks. It was slow going. Slower than Illya had hoped. But it could not be helped. 

He watched his partner take out the map and compass. 

“Flashlight?” Solo wheezed.

Illya stepped over and flicked on his flashlight.

Solo took a small step back, map shaking in his hands.

“Th-this is the location?” He pointed at a small pen mark in the middle of the map.

Illya stopped where he was. “Yes.”

“Right.” Solo sighed, held the compass into the flashlight’s beam, turned a pace or two to the right. “We need to be going this way.”

“We should take a break.” Illya did not want to push Solo too hard. The way he was favoring his chest suggested a broken rib. Or more. And that could not be all. The point of rescuing Solo was not to kill him in the process. 

“Sit down.” Illya urged his partner.

“No.” Solo pocketed the compass and map again. “Sorry, but if I do that, I won’t get up again. We keep moving. Unless, you need a break?”

It was dark but Illya could hear a little smile in Solo’s last words. At least he felt well enough to needle Illya. 

“We keep moving.” Illya agreed. 

The first tatters of dawn were showing when they reached the cabin. They were cold and damp from a mist that had settled into hills. Feet wet from fording a few streams. They trudged inside. It was bare bones. Cool and musty. A fireplace. A table. Kitchen sink. Bed in the corner. 

“This is honestly worse than the warehouse.” Solo drawled, panting. He dropped his bag to the creaking wooden floor planks.

“Be grateful.” Illya sniffed and set down his pack on the rough table. “You are safe here.”

“Yes, safe from a hot bath.”

“There is a gas generator and well-water. This is better than most hotels.” Illya dryly said.

Solo edged closer to the kitchen windows and stripped off his jacket and damp shirt slowly and painfully.

Illya stayed across the cabin, despite how much he wanted to help.

Finally free of the shirt, Solo let it drop to the floor and looked down at his torso. In the dim dawn light from the grimy windows, Illya could see a mess of mottled bruises, the worst of it dark like thunderclouds over Solo’s ribs.

Illya realized Solo was falling before Solo did.

A brief moment. A sway. Eyes glazed. Eyelids fluttering.

Illya strode across the cabin and caught Solo as he went down, head hanging limply. The heat coming off Solo’s body was concerning. And he was slick with sweat. 

Solo’s faint only lasted a moment.

He began to thrash in Illya’s arms, pushing away. Frantic. A rough sob tore from his throat.

“Stop.” Solo’s voice was barely a whisper. “Don’t.”

Illya did not drop Solo to the floor but lowered him as carefully as he could as Solo struggled. And then he backed away.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

Solo propped himself against the kitchen cabinets, panting, eyes wide and wet. Tears threatened to fall.

“Sorry.” Solo coughed. “I don’t-”

“It is fine.” Illya cut him off. “They beat you. I know. I am sorry.”

Solo just breathed and shook then closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“You are safe now.” Illya knew there wasn’t anything he could say that would fix this. But he tried. “You rest. I keep watch. I will keep you safe.”

A few tears hit the wood floor, soft sounds, the only sound. 

“Thanks, Peril.”

Carnivàle S02E05

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

Mediwhump May - IV/Cannula

(Original characters/story)

@mediwhumpmay

“How-” Tate cleared his throat, his voice rough with a sore throat. “How far is it now?”

Troy craned his neck to look at the IV bag behind Tate’s bed. “Not even close.”

Tate sighed and closed his eyes. “Sorry. You can go. You don’t have to stay until they discharge me.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean it, I-”

“Kid, I’m staying. Sharon knows where I am. Julia’s in bed. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Tate sighed. 

Troy added. “I want to be here.”

“Bull.”

The room was quiet but the rest of the hospital outside was loud with beeps and talking and fast-paced steps, despite the fact it was close to midnight.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Troy asked. 

“Is it close to halfway?”

Troy didn’t bother looking, but kept his eyes on Tate. “Not even close.”

Tate grimaced as he swallowed. “I don’t know. Didn’t think I was that sick.”

“Your blood sugar was low. When did you last eat?”

Tate sighed. “What are you? My dad?”

Troy waited. 

Tate thought back to the past day. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Just half a bagel. He lowered his eyes to his hands in his lap. “I ate breakfast.”

“Jesus, Tate, what the hell? I can’t work with you if you aren’t taking care of yourself.” Troy stood up and ran his hand through his hair. 

Tate touched the spot where the IV entered his arm, wincing. “I had a bad day.”

“All it takes is one bad day!” Troy’s face was red. 

“I’ll do better.” Tears started in Tate’s eyes and he wiped them away. He really didn’t want to cry in front of Troy. Not after all this. Fainting and being taken to the hospital was humiliating enough. 

“I’ll do better.” He repeated.

“I’m sorry.” Troy crouched down by Tate’s bed. “Hey, kid, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.” 

“You can go.” Tate wiped his eyes one more time. “It’s fine.”

Troy nodded. “I know. But I’m gonna stay.”

“It’s fine.” Tate mouthed, finger tracing the tape that held his IV in place.

“Hey.” Troy nudged Tate’s shoulder.

Tate looked up.

Troy nodded at the IV bag. “It’s almost halfway.”

Tate smiled and swallowed hard.

Troy put the back of his hand to Tate’s forehead. “Fever’s down.”

“Thanks, dad.” Tate rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not old enough to be your dad, kid.”

“Well, you’re acting like one.”

“Can’t help it.”

“Pizza after this?” Tate asked, unsure of Troy’s response. “Oh, hell yeah, I’m starving.” Troy settled back into the angular hospital chair.

Tate smiled and leaned his head back against the bed. “Awesome.”

“You’re paying though.” Troy grunted.

Tate grinned.

MEDIWHUMP MAY PROMPTS

Mediwhump May. It's dirty medicine.

Welcome to Mediwhump May. 31 days, 31 prompts. The only limit is your imagination.

Don't forget to tag @mediwhumpmay and use your tags #mediwhumpmay

IV /Cannula

Stitches

Seizure

Pain

No Response

Needlephobic

First Night in Hospital

Scared of Blood

Oxygen

Short of Breath

Withdrawal

"Just one more sip."

Surgery

Loss of Consciousness

Nausea / Vomiting

Dizzy

"Stay awake for me."

Stabbing

Emergency Room

Breakdown

Field Medicine

Doctor Becomes the Patient

Bleeding Out

"We've got you now." / "You're safe."

Shaking

Sedation

Car Crash

No Screaming

Head Injury

Choke

Ambulance Ride

Bonus / Alternative Prompts

No Pain relief

Infection

Poisoning

Broken Bones

Teeth

The Cold Light of Day (2012)

Whumptober Day 18: Alt. Promt #3: Fever

Moonlight S01E04

"Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep, Still threat’ning to devour me, opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven."

Paradise Lost - John Milton