The Greatest Showman (2017)

Carnivàle S02E05

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

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!

Frank Castle + Blood

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.

Whumpay - Day 5

Main Challenge - Mad Science - Truth Potion/Serum/Spell Mini Challenge 5 - Torture - Recorded/Broadcast Torture Original Work - Blackburn

“How is he?”

Morgan Lynch stopped as he was passing the doorway to the parlor, took a step back, and saw Professor Collins sitting there.

“Oh.” Morgan tried to school his face into something less upset. “He’s fine. He’s…” Morgan trailed off, searching for the right words to describe it.

Ennis was upstairs in one of the guest bedrooms, tossing and turning. He was sweating and pale. His eyes were sunken. And Morgan had heard him muttering softly in his sleep. He was not well. That much was obvious.

“Sleeping.” Morgan finally said.

“Good, good.” Professor Collins gestured to the opposite armchair by the fire. “Would you join me?”

Morgan hesitated a moment more. He’d rather not. He’d rather sit in the kitchen and stew. But he nodded and smiled. “Thank you.” Morgan sat down opposite the professor.

“Tea?”

“Uh, no. Thank you though.” Morgan didn’t really like tea.

“Something stronger?” Professor Collins tried again.

Morgan shook his head and that made him notice his throbbing headache. This whole night was just too much for him. He was exhausted. And so very confused.

“It can be a bit of a shock, I’m afraid.” The professor stood up from his armchair, stroking his very white beard. It contrasted starkly with his dark mane of hair.

“What?”

Professor Collins limped over to an old phonograph and began to fiddle with it. “Mr. Ennis Hunnicutt’s gift.”

“Oh.”

Morgan could not help but have Ennis’s face flash before his mind’s eye, deathly white, with eyes rolled back, and speaking in that strange language. The syllables that Ennis had pronounced were chilling. Morgan didn’t understand why. But just remembering the sound of it. The way the unknown words wormed their way between his teeth, made it difficult to breathe, had Morgan’s heart racing even now.

Morgan cleared his throat and tried to calm himself. “Is it a gift?” He asked. It seemed more like a curse.

“Most certainly.” Replied Professor Collins. “In all my years of research, I have never found someone as gifted as he.”

Morgan swallowed hard. What did that mean? What kind of gift would do so much harm? “What is he?”

The professor straightened up. He was gingerly holding a wax cylinder. “A medium.” He answered. Seemed to consider it a moment, then added. “Of sorts.”

The professor held up the wax cylinder. “I have this here, a recording of one of Ennis’s trances, would you like to hear it?”

Morgan felt a wave of revulsion rise in him. “Why do you have-”

“It’s quite short, I assure you.” Professor Collins had already turned around and was loading the cylinder into the phonograph. “It was recorded years ago, when the Divine Order was still intact.”

The Divine Order? Morgan was lost. But he had no energy to object. In fact, he felt a sick sort of curiosity. Before he could decide whether he wanted to hear this recording or not, it began to play.

The sound was rough and difficult to make out in parts. But most of it was clear enough to understand.

A scratchy, high-pitched voice rang out first. A woman’s voice. “The twenty-second of December, in the year nineteen hundred and fourteen. And it is our Ennis’s birthday. He has been dosed with the serum and is ready to speak with us.”

There was a shuffling sound. Then more speaking. “Ennis, my darling, can you hear me?”

A pause.

And then, Morgan’s heart clenched.

“Yes, I can hear you.” It was a young boy’s voice. A child. He spoke dreamily, doubtless due to the substance they had given him.

“Make the first cut.” The scratchy-voiced woman ordered.

Young Ennis cried out in pain over the recording.

Morgan jumped to his feet, his lips tingling as he felt the blood drain out of his face.

The recording continued, Ennis’s sobs becoming a soft background melody to the scratchy woman’s voice. She spoke a string of strange syllables that rang nauseatingly familiar.

The sobs ceased suddenly.

Then, young Ennis began to drone, slurring his words. “The Eater of Stars, Endless Maw, approaches. Nearer and nearer-”

“Make the second cut!” The woman screeched.

Morgan felt sweat break out on his forehead.

Young Ennis cried out again, the sob turning into a long wail and more words. “The Eye is open and we shall all walk through the doorway. Arrival! Arrival is nigh!”

“The third cut!”

“I am the Tooth of the Eater! I will bite the Stars!”

A shuffling sound and the high-pitched breathy voice of the woman rang out. “Where is the doorway, Ennis? Tell us where it is!”

“Burning black. The teardrop.” Ennis’s voice slowed to a drawl again. He struggled to speak. “The… Eye is… The Eye open.”

“Bind the wounds. He’s bleeding too much.” The woman hissed. “Ennis? My darling? Stay awake, please.”

Someone in the background cried out. “Call the doctor!”

Then silence.

Morgan started. Professor Collins had stood up as well and was unloading the wax cylinder from the phonograph. Morgan ran a hand down his face and took a deep breath.

“What the devil was that?” He spat.

The professor looked up, surprised but still calm. “As I said, it is a recording of one of Ennis’s trances.”

“But-” Morgan searched for words. “They were mutilating him. He was a child. I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain.” Came a soft voice from the parlor doorway.

Morgan whirled around. Ennis stood there, still waxen pale and sweating. He looked so weak, leaning on the doorway for support. His eyes stood out starkly in his face, the firelight flickering in them.

Whumpay - Day 10

Main Challenge - Attacks, Mental & Physical - Panic Attack Mini Challenge 10 - Dialogue - “You look awful.” Original Work - (No title yet)

Kemp knocked softly on the apartment door then leaned his head on it. It was cool. And he was hot. And sweating. And so very tired. The door wasn’t opening. Cyril wasn’t opening the door.

Kemp swallowed hard and knocked again. He waited even longer this time. Still nothing. His heart rate ramped up and he felt his hands and feet grow cold. His stomach lurched.

Kemp tried the knock they had agreed on one more time. He waited and waited and waited. Nothing.

The edges of Kemp’s vision grew blurry and cloudy. He reeled back and kicked the door. Once. Twice. It banged open, the wood around the bolt cracked and splintered. Kemp’s hand went for the gun at his side: the gun that wasn’t there. Shit. He pulled the knife from his boot instead.

Kemp checked the living room. “Cyril!”

Sweat dripped from his forehead, stinging his eyes. He was so hot and freezing at the same time.

Kemp checked the kitchen. The kettle was on and boiling. “Cyril!” He tried to breathe but all he could do was gasp. His heart raced. As Kemp paced into the bedroom, knife ready, the floor tilted sideways and he had to lean on the wall to stay upright.

The shower was running. It sounded like a waterfall. So loud.

“Cyril?!”

“What?”

Kemp turned.

Cyril was there. Coming out of the bathroom. Towel around his waist. And safe.

Cyril was safe.

Kemp dropped the knife. The carpet came up to meet him. Kemp felt like he was dying. Why was he dying? Why couldn’t he breathe?

Cyril was saying something but Kemp couldn’t hear him.

Kemp opened his eyes.

When had his eyes closed?

He was on his side, his head resting on something soft. Someone was stroking his hair. His cheek throbbed.

“Are you with me?” Cyril asked, his voice coming from above.

Kemp turned his head a little. He was resting on Cyril’s lap while Cyril ran his fingers through his hair. The shower was still running.

“Yeah.” Kemp whispered. “I’m with you.”

“Good.” Cyril leaned down and kissed Kemp’s forehead.

That was new. Fainting was new too. But kisses especially so.

“You look awful.” Cyril smiled down at him.

“Can’t imagine why.” Kemp tried to sit up but the world tilted again.

Cyril eased him back down to the floor and kept his head in his lap. “Careful there. You had a panic attack maybe. Give it a minute.”

“Don’t have panic attacks.”

“Well, you do now. What happened? Why were you looking for me?”

“Didn’t answer the knock.” Kemp closed his eyes. The towel was thin about Cyril’s thighs and his body heat was soothing. “Thought something happened.”

“You had a panic attack over me?” Kemp could hear the smile in Cyril’s voice.

“It’s not funny.” Kemp grumbled.

“I’m not laughing.” Kemp felt Cyril’s breath as he leaned down over Kemp’s ear and kissed his hair.

Kemp turned his head. And met Cyril’s lips with his own.

“You are laughing at me.” Kemp breathed into Cyril’s mouth.

“Never.” Cyril whispered, and kissed him again.

Prodigal Son 1x11 - Malcolm is stabbed by John Watkins

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.

The Official Sicktember 2024 Prompts List

Event FAQ Text Post [Link to Post]

2024 Prompt-Based Resources [Link to Post]

Past Prompts Text Post [Link to Post]

How to Submit Content Post [Link to Post]

Sicktember 2024 AO3 Collection [Link]

Announcements [Link to #Event Notice]

** Text Version of the 2024 Prompts Can be Found Below.

“I’m not hungover, I’m just sick” (Or vise versa)

Too Much of a Good Thing/Overindulgence

Campus/Con Crud

“Great. I Got a Cold for My Birthday.”

Rogue Organ (tonsils, spleen, appendix, gall bladder ect…)

Dizziness/Vertigo

Borrowed Hoodie

“The closest doctor is probably hours away from here!”

Overdramatic Patient/Caretaker 

The Sniffles ™ 

Medieval Treatment

“You’re not fine, you’re throwing up/coughing up a lung”

Mononucleosis

Clean Sheets/Fresh Pajamas

"Who decided __ is ‘sick people food?’"

Toxin/Poison

Brain Fog/Spaced Out 

“My body is one big ache”

Hypochondriac Tendencies 

Medication Bribery

Anaphylactic Response

“You didn’t use my cup, did you?”

Under a Spell

 Tales From the Waiting Room

Summer Flu

Heart Condition/Cardiac Arrest

“This is non-negotiable"

Pulling a ‘Ferris Bueller’

Sick on a Road Trip

Past Prompt of Your Choice! 

Alts

Hospital Bed

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

First Aid Kit

Flushed Cheeks

Doctor's Note