MEDIWHUMP MAY PROMPTS

the wrath of the lamb 3.13

—Why is his pain so slutty?

Carnivàle S02E05

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

Prodigal Son 1x11 - Malcolm is stabbed by John Watkins

Mediwhump May - Day 8

"Scared of Blood"

(Dark Shadows 1966)

@mediwhumpmay

Willie knew he’d made a mistake before he’d even slipped. He had been sawing a piece of wood to size to repair the floor. A hand in the wrong spot. The gulf of time between realization and the consequences. He knew he had messed up. But he could do nothing to stop it. 

The saw skipped.

White hot pain across Willie’s wrist, burning and tearing.

He froze.

Willie watched the blood bloom in the ragged wound. He let the saw drop to the floor with a clatter. He dimly heard himself panting. He couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t any air. His fingers went to his collar to loosen the buttons there but his hands were shaking too much. 

Dark spots danced at the edges of his vision. The room whirled around him. 

Blood ran down Willie’s arm from the wound, red and dark. He watched it drip onto the floor. 

No, please, no.

It couldn’t happen again. He couldn’t bear it if it happened again. 

Willie clamped a hand over the wound. He squeezed his eyes shut. That helped. A little. Not much. 

He couldn’t breathe. His heart raced and stuttered. He was dizzy and hot and cold and sweating and oh god-

Those teeth were in him again. 

He was alone in the dark. Alone with the monster. He was alone and no one was coming to save him. 

Willie scrambled backward across the floor until his back hit the wall. He pulled his knees to his chest. He held his bleeding wrist close to his chest. Covering it. Hiding it. 

Yes, hide it. If no one sees, he’s safe. No one can see it. 

Warm blood, slick against his skin, coated his hands now.

Don’t look at it. Never look at it. 

The wound throbbed and burned. 

Willie slumped down to the floor. It was dusty but cool. He was dizzy. He kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t breathe. He was dying, wasn’t he? Dying alone in the dark. Again. 

Ringing in his ears. Everything faded away. Faded to darkness.

Merry Whump of May - Day 8

“Did you read the fine print?”

Circle

Blinded

Field

(original characters/story)

@themerrywhumpofmay

“It’s the only way to know what happened here.” Rex shed his jacket and tossed it on the ground. The sun beat down upon them, searing and merciless. The cicadas sang and sang. With every weak breath of wind, the grass around them sighed and fluttered. The field was empty save for Rex, Stockton, Burden, and the last survivor. 

Rex rolled up his sleeves. “Stay back, all of you, until it’s done.”

“And how will we know when it’s done?” Stockton picked up Rex’s jacket.

Rex didn’t answer and walked towards the last survivor.

Tied to a stake in the middle of the field was a young woman. Was, a young woman. She had died three days ago and laid in the hot sun until now, and it showed. Rex had tracked her down and arrived too late. Always too late. 

The last survivor rasped and stood on unsteady legs as Rex approached. He needed to know what she knew. Tears stung Rex’s eyes as he drew closer. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I’m really sorry. We tried. We tried.”

The last survivor’s skin was bloated and dark with pooled blood. Where there were once eyes, dark, crusted sockets stared out at Rex. Rex looked up and saw the vultures responsible still circling overhead. Every so often, one flew close enough to noonday sun to blot it out. A shadow covering the field. Ragged and brief. 

Rex knelt as close as he dared. 

He had searched the minds of humans before and had become good at it. It was easy to read people, to open up their minds and read their innermost thoughts. But reading the dead? Something about it turned his stomach. It wasn’t the putrid flesh before him, or clicking teeth, but the act of uniting his mind with the dead.

Rex hadn’t told Stockton or Burden, but he wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t kill him. 

But he had promised to try. This last survivor, survivor no more, had known something important to their cause. And he owed it to her to try. He had to try.

Rex took the dead woman’s face in his hands and gently pushed the limp hair away from her sightless eyes. She tried to bite him. The bloody foam that oozed from her mouth and nose ran over his fingers, lukewarm and slimy. The stake and her bound arms held her back. Rex closed his eyes. The sun was harsh above and behind his eyelids he saw only red.

The last survivor rasped and gurgled. 

Rex took a deep breath. He began to read.

A moment. 

He began to scream.

The ground vibrated, shuddering and shaking. Waves in the field. A flock of birds flee, black dots against the pale, hot sky. The grass around Rex and the last survivor begins to die. It shriveled. It turned black. A circle of rotting darkness. Then, nothing. Only death.

Rex felt someone stroking his hair.

“You’re safe.” It was Burden’s voice. And Burden’s hand.

The rotting smell of the corpse still lingered in Rex’s senses, but Burden’s scent was chasing it away. 

Rex shifted a little. His muscles ached and his limbs shook with the effort. His head was resting on someone’s lap. Probably Burden.

“You’re safe?” Rex rasped. His throat was dry and sticky. He coughed.

“Yeah. Stocky’s getting you water. Hang on.”

Rex opened his eyes and saw nothing.

His heart clenched. 

Rex closed his eyes again, braced himself, and opened them. Nothing.

“Uh, Burden?” Rex reached out towards the hand in his hair. He gripped Burden’s rough, calloused fingers. 

“Yeah?”

“I can't see.”

Rex felt Burden become still and tense. Then Burden squeezed Rex’s hand.

A sigh. “Did you not read the fine print on those powers you got?”

Rex’s laugh was shaky. He felt a tear slip from the corner of his eye and trail down his cheek, pooling in his ear. “No, not really. Didn’t come with a manual, you know?”

“It'll come back.”

“Maybe. But I got the information. She saw where they went.” Rex didn’t think too hard about what he had seen when reading the dead woman. He had gotten what they needed and that was that.

Burden pulled Rex a little closer. “You shouldn’t have done this.” Burden spoke into Rex’s hair, his breath warm on Rex’s scalp.

Rex closed his eyes. He didn’t need them open.

Whumpay - Day 4

Main Challenge - Mad Science - Vivisection Mini Challenge 4 - Torture - Begging To Be Killed Original Work - The Sleeping Stones

(content warning - graphic violence)

The silvery light of the glowing noose illuminated the tears running down Ylen’s cheeks from below. He rushed to grab hold of the rope of light, and reeled back with burned hands.

“Alixor.” Ylen gasped. “Alix, what are you doing?”

“You did this.” Alixor sat down heavily in the dewy grass, panting and sweating as though he had just run miles. The spell had taken almost all of his energy. “You did this.” He gasped. “When you refused to help me.”

“What?”

Ylen fell to his hands and knees. His eyes were wide and stared into Alix’s face.

Alixor looked down to the ground, averting his eyes from Ylen’s stricken look.

“You refused to help me.” He said again, much quieter than before.

“Alix, I-”

Alixor pounded his fist into the wet grass. “You won’t help me!” He screamed. Alixor looked to Ylen again. Braved the terrified eyes. “You won’t help my people!”

A beat.

Ylen’s face softens.

But instead of looking scared, Ylen just looks sad.

“I will not kill for you. That is what you mean.”

Alixor shook his head. No, Ylen can not change this. Ylen is wrong.

Ylen continued, voice becoming stronger, the furrows of rage in his face becoming deep in the silver light shed by the noose around his neck.

“I will not use my power to kill.” Ylen said.

Alixor shook his head again, feeling tears pouring from his eyes. “You won’t help me.” He sobbed. “I need help.”

“I am not your weapon. I am your friend.”

“We are not friends. Not anymore.”

Ylen fell silent at this. With shaking hands, Alixor pulled out the rest of his supplies from his bag. When he set the ornate knife on the rock, it rang out softly against the stone. Ylen started and stared at the weapon. But he asked no more questions.

Ylen remained quiet as Alixor finished the spell and bound his hands and feet to the ground, spread-eagle.

Ylen said not a word when Alixor picked up the knife and crouched over Ylen’s body.

He only looked at Alixor. Studying him. Eyes shimmering with the light from the luminous ropes.

“I’m sorry.” Alixor sobbed.

“No.” Ylen smiled. “You are not.”

Alixor plunged the knife into Ylen’s belly and began to carve. Ylen screamed and struggled, but the shining ropes held him fast to the ground. Alixor’s vision was blurred by tears. He continued to cut and cut, laying Ylen’s body open to the air. Exposing every facet of the god’s existence. When Alixor finally found Ylen’s heart, the ground was soggy with blood.

The crimson organ beat wildly in the god’s chest, cradled in a nest of blood and bone and sinew. It was hot. Burning. It almost smoldered.

“Please.” Ylen wheezed.

Ylen had watched Alixor’s every move. Almost like he was committing this atrocity to a memory that would soon be gone.

Alixor wished Ylen would screw up his eyes and just scream. Rather than this. Rather than pleading with him. Anything but this.

“Please.” Ylen repeated. “Please kill me.”

Alixor set down his knife, now slippery with viscera.

“Please don’t use my power for this.”

Alixor had long ago run out of tears. He was feverish and thirsty at this point. Dizzy with the heat of Ylen’s burning body. Who would have thought a god of wildfire would boil on the inside? Alixor braced himself and reached for Ylen’s heart with his bare hand. He wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t lucid. The cold night spun about him and he gasped for breath.

The heart seared his flesh. Alixor cried out but did not let go. He pulled and tore and wrenched and ripped and twisted. The heart came free. Alixor slumped down on the ground, clutching at his scorched hand. The heart flopped onto the grass and continued to beat.

“Please.” Ylen continued to whisper.

Alixor sobbed, great heaving sobs that nearly choked him. He vomited bile. Then lay there for a long time trying to catch his breath.

“Please don’t use me to kill.”

Alixor, laying on his side, watched the heart continue to beat. It steamed in the cold night air. His hand throbbed. He had to do this. This was the only way. He had to save his people. This would give him the power to save everyone. Alixor reached for the heart again with his blistered hand.

“Please.”

Alixor’s mouth was scalded when he took the first bite of flesh. It hurt even more when he swallowed down the second. Agony bloomed in his stomach. He was on fire, from the inside out. Still, he ate.

Ylen watched him. “Please.”

Alixor kept eating.

Sean Bean in Sharpe’s Honour

webcam acquired (old one broke) now I can finally be a camboy (see my therapist again)