92 posts
Latest Posts by sticks-and-stones-are-great - Page 3
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.
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.
Open Range | 2003
Soo many good tropes here;
- ambushed unbeknownst to caretakers
- left for dead
- worried fatherfigure
- fading in and out of consciousness
- bridal carry
Found this movie through @whumpywhumpas 🌟
More gif sets for this movie coming!!!
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.
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.”
Merry Whump of May
Spring 2023 Prompt List!
It's May, everyone!! Due to personal and technical difficulties, we're getting the list to you DAY ONE. WOW!
So sorry for the delay, but we have every confidence that despite this short notice, you'll all be able to put out some amazing work this year!
Without further ado, welcome to The Merry Whump of May!
Text ID:
Merry Whump of May
Spring 2023
A month-long whump writing event by @wormwriting and @painsandconfusion.
Extemporaneous style this year-!!
Write, draw, or otherwise create content based on the daily prompts! Participants and completionists will receive badges of honor for their work at the end of the month.
Create original content or fanfiction, all is welcome!
Rules
Tag each day's post with #themerrywhumpofmay, any necessary content warning (eg: #knife), and the day in the following format: #mwmday1)
Adult topics are allowed, but must be well tagged. Send a message to @themerrywhumpofmay if you'd like a second opinion.
Be kind, have fun!
Prompts:
Day One - “No pain, no gain.”
Compass
Haphephobia
Kitchen
Day Two - “Need a ride?
Wrench
Paranoia
Club
Day Three - “You're not looking so hot.”
Lightbulb
Tension
Alleyway
Day Four - “Two birds, one bullet.”
Chess Pieces
Stubborn
Tower
Day Five - “Do unto others as you would bla bla bla...”
Bow and Arrow
Stalking
Cavern
Day Six - “It's a long story.”
Knife Handle
Gagged
Under the table
Day Seven - “Write what you know.”
Box
Magic
Cell
Day Eight - “Did you read the fine print?”
Circle
Blinded
Field
Day Nine - “We'll burn that bridge when we get there.”
Collar
Lost
Roof
Day Ten - “Hit the hay.”
Key
Forgetting
Warehouse
Day Eleven - “Ready set go!”
Plastic bag
Overheating
Restaurant
Day Twelve - “Tabled for Later.”
Thumbtack
Panic attack
Ballroom
Day Thirteen - “You've made your bed, now bleed in it.”
Sander
Found
Safe Place
Day Fourteen - “Well, well, well...”
Barbed Wire
Starvation
Drain
Day Fifteen - “The power of god and anime”
Hammer
Over-Exhaustion
Hammer
Day Sixteen - “Take a break.”
Branding Iron
Moonlight
Cemetery
Day Seventeen - “Going down in flames.”
Pole
Regret
Fireplace
Day Eighteen - “No use crying over spilled blood.”
Cage
Claustrophobia
Ship
Day Nineteen - “Apples and oranges.”
Chainsaw
Surprise
Home Base
Day Twenty - “A taste of your own medicine.”
Zip ties
Bleeding out
Office
Day Twenty-one - “Devil's advocate.”
Tome
Desperation
Hiking trail.
Day Twenty-two - “You can lead a bitch to water, but you can't make them drink.”
Origami
Amnesia
Attic
Day Twenty-three - “Good things come to those who wait.”
Nine-inch-nails
Isolation
Creepy basement
Day Twenty-four - “Bent out of shape.”
Tent Spike
Dragged
Wrong place, wrong time
Day Twenty-five - “It takes two to tango.”
Hot coffee
Doubt
In line
Day Twenty-six - “Hammer time.”
Pocket watch
Itchy
Waiting room
Day Twenty-seven - “Second mouse get the cheese.”
Knife
Rug burn
Skyscraper
Day Twenty-eight - “A picture's worth a thousand words.”
Chair
Paranoia
Backseat
Day Twenty-nine - “Lost and Found
Blowtortch
Frostbite
Lake
Day Thirty - “Rain check.”
High heels
Strained
The backroom
Day Thirty-one - “Thin ice.”
Lighter
Chronic pain
Dead end
Alternative Prompt List
Titles
“Questions? Comments? Concerns? Complaints?”
“Time dies when you're having fun.”
“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”
“Can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.”
“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match.”
Items
Wine Glass
Hydrochloric acid
Magnet
Teacup
Wire
Conditions
Sensory deprivation
Blindfolded
Acrophobia
Failed escape
Distress
Locations
The Middle of Nowhere
Forest
Void
Sidewalk
Shortcut
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
Toshiro Mifune as Detective Murakami in Stray Dog (1949) dir. Akira Kurosawa
What you did and where you’re coming from I don’t care, as long as you love me, baby. - for @glycerineclown
whumptober 2021 - day 8 ↳ coughing up a lung
Peter Rumancek, Hemlock Grove 2x01
Whumpril 2023 Day 18: “Take me instead.”
L.A. Confidential (1997)
Whumptober 2022 | No. 19: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH
knees buckling | repeatedly passing out | head lolling
Blood & Treasure s02e13: “Danny. Hey. Wake up. Help’s on the way. Help’s on the way.” — “I’m sorry I’m bleeding all over you.”
so i said fine, ‘cause that’s how my daddy raised me if they strike once, then you just hit ‘em twice as hard but in the end, if i bend under the weight that they gave me then this heart would break and fall as twice as far
Major Sharpe has a slash to the left shoulder that's gone to the bone, but what's gonna kill him is the bullet in his belly. If he were a dog I'd shoot him.
Sharpe's Sword (1995)
The Outfit (2022): “The Wound Needs To Be Sealed. We Have To Stop This Bleeding.”
[PART 1] [PART 2]
