TERRIFIC TUESDAY: Whump
Jan. 17th, 2012 10:07 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHello everybody ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
theladymore here with another theme for you today. Today's theme is a little one of my favorite topics...WHUMP.
Incase you do not know what whump is it is when a fanfiction author puts either physical or mental strain on a character. So for those authors like me who squeal at the thought of John Sheppard at the hands of captors, like to look into Danny William's fragile mental psyche or even just Spencer Reid reactig to a paper cut then this day is for you.
Just remember the rules when posting your prompt:
-No More than 5 Prompts in a Row
-No More than 3 per fandom
-No spoilers in the prompt, and if your fic response has spoilers, please warn and leave adequate space.
To make the job easier to the codemonkies hard at work to make this community great here's some examples
Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny, Trying to help Danny through his depression
Criminal Minds, Reid + or / author's choice, "It's just a paper cut you are not going to die!"
Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard, The Trouble Magnent.
Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, Broken bones.
theme=whump.
theladymore here with another theme for you today. Today's theme is a little one of my favorite topics...WHUMP.Incase you do not know what whump is it is when a fanfiction author puts either physical or mental strain on a character. So for those authors like me who squeal at the thought of John Sheppard at the hands of captors, like to look into Danny William's fragile mental psyche or even just Spencer Reid reactig to a paper cut then this day is for you.
Just remember the rules when posting your prompt:
-No More than 5 Prompts in a Row
-No More than 3 per fandom
-No spoilers in the prompt, and if your fic response has spoilers, please warn and leave adequate space.
To make the job easier to the codemonkies hard at work to make this community great here's some examples
Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny, Trying to help Danny through his depression
Criminal Minds, Reid + or / author's choice, "It's just a paper cut you are not going to die!"
Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard, The Trouble Magnent.
Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, Broken bones.
theme=whump.
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Date: 2012-01-17 03:42 pm (UTC)SPN -- Dean/Cas -- Title: If You Could Only See
Date: 2012-01-17 06:54 pm (UTC)He does not pray -- because he cannot pray to God now, cannot bring himself to, and he knows that any prayer he made would be a prayer to Dean Winchester. But it is hard not to, to not whisper Dean's name to the wind and hope that it's not already over, that the Leviathans have not already taken him.
He lies there, and his blood sings with the pain of that idea. It pumps through this vessel so many times destroyed and rebuilt, and it sings.
After a long time, he rises to his feet, at which point he realizes his coat is missing. He is surprised by the dull ache that provides; he has never been sentimental about objects, after all.
The singing in his blood does not cease as he walks, alone, into a world that he fears, a world he may have destroyed.
He continues to walk. He walks until his feet bleed, and then he runs, because his blood is still singing, still singing, and it's not with the prospect of losing Dean, but with the need to go to him.
He hunts, now, everything torn away but for that need singing in his blood and the one thought of redemption.
Now and then he comes across a Leviathan to break, to dismantle the way they dismantled him in that basement. Alone, they are not nearly so powerful as the were when they were all inside him.
It is on those nights, roaming, that his hand itches for his sword, so he may bleed, so that the singing might stop.
But he can't. He cannot bleed unless Dean asks him to. He will bear the singing until it's all over, until he stands before the man he has betrayed so utterly and asks him for punishment.
His life, now, is hunting for his own redemption, fighting the singing in his blood, and racing over the country, his feet bloodied in the hallowed places.
I want to find you, tear out all your tenderness.
Re: SPN -- Dean/Cas -- Title: If You Could Only See
From:Re: SPN -- Dean/Cas -- Title: If You Could Only See
From:Re: SPN -- Dean/Cas -- Title: If You Could Only See
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Date: 2012-01-17 03:43 pm (UTC)Re: FILLED! (Destiel)
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Date: 2012-01-17 03:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-17 03:51 pm (UTC)It isn't real...
Date: 2012-01-17 10:13 pm (UTC)He wakes up in restraints.
He closes his eyes, clings to the truth, to Sam...to the feeling inside.
It isn't real.
It isn't real.
It isn't real.
The light is too bright and the voices too loud.
"Sam." His voice cracks, even as they come at him with their drugs in syringes. "No! No!"
The sting bites through his denial and the cold settles over him. Hands caress his face. Voices tell him that he's safe, that there are no monsters, no demons.
"Your mother wants to see you, Dean."
He shakes his head, can't believe. His mother is dead. His father is dead. Only Sam remains and he has to get back to him. Has to find a way.
"Your parents love you Dean. They want you to get better."
It isn't real.
It isn't real.
It isn't real.
The door closes and John stands quickly, his arm sliding around Mary's waist to support her as the doctor smiles wearily at them. "We have him sedated for now."
"Is he..." Mary doesn't finish the question, just turns her face into John's shoulder.
"We'll need to find the right medications for him, and it may take a while." He hands off the chart to a nurse and crosses his arms. "For now, we'll get him cleaned up, and see to those wounds. He's lucky you found him when you did."
John knew that. He'd found his son with a machete, bleeding and ranting about demons. It was worse this time than it ever had been. They almost lost him. Maybe they had.
"May I ask, who is Sam?" the doctor asks as the nurse returned with a tray of instruments.
Mary lifts her head, her eyes teary. "Dean...when he was younger Sam was his imaginary friend."
"Does he have a brother?"
She holds John tighter. "We always wanted another, but no. It never...we couldn't..."
The doctor touches her arm with a reassuring smile. "Why don't you both sit down. We'll be a little while, and when we're done stitching him up, you can see him."
John watches him go, lets Mary slide back down to the hard plastic chair. His son is slipping away from him.
It isn't real.
Re: It isn't real...
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From:Re: It isn't real...
From:Re: It isn't real...
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Date: 2012-01-17 03:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-17 04:01 pm (UTC)Give A Little More
Date: 2012-03-20 04:12 am (UTC)http://xpnkitty.livejournal.com/9478.html ( Contains language that may or may not embarass a sailor. Oh, and sexual content ;)
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Date: 2012-01-17 04:11 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-01-17 04:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-17 10:48 pm (UTC)Dean turns away, closes his eyes, counts to ten.
"I'm still here."
"Fuck." He lifts the flask, swallows down the slow burn of cheap whiskey.
"You can't get rid of me that easily."
Sam is asleep, knocked out with a heavy dose of pain killers after Dean had stitched up the gash in his arm.
Which should mean Dean is alone...but for the second time in a week, he finds himself keeping company with Sam's delusion.
"Sam's head too boring for you?" Dean asks, though he knows better. Lucifer isn't really there. He's in the cage. Where he belongs.
"It's the drugs. Hard to torment him when he's that far under."
Dean doesn't have a come back, so he drains the flask instead.
"What's the matter Dean, to close to the truth?"
"Fuck you." Dean turns his back to the delusion, to Lucifer and goes to clean his guns.
"You know who's to blame, don't you Dean?"
"Shut up."
"For all of it. For Sam being all fucked up in the head, for the choices he made, for his little trip into the cage...for the way he whimpers when I tear into him?"
Lucifer is sitting across from him now and Dean lifts the gun, pointing it at that ugly face. "Shut the fuck up."
His smile is slow, creepy. "Because of you, Sam has never been normal...never got to be in the school play, never got to second base with Laura Helder, never had a chance...."
The feeling of hands ghost over his, turn the gun back, nestle it up under his chin. "Because of you, Sam's soul will never go to heaven." The voice is in his ear. "Pull the trigger, Dean. Send yourself back to the pit. It's what you deserve."
Dean's eyes close, a tear slipping down one cheek. He isn't wrong. Dean knows. He's known for a while. None of it was Sam's fault. His finger tightens on the trigger.
"Dean." Sam's voice is thick, heavy with the drugs and his hand is hot on Dean's shoulder. "He isn't real."
Dean blinks, clears his throat and lowers the gun. Sam is still asleep on the bed and he's alone, cleaning his guns in some dive motel in Missouri.
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Date: 2012-01-17 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-17 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-17 10:34 pm (UTC)The crowd scatters, screaming and rushing for cover. The gun skitters across the pavement toward him. He shoves his witness down and covers her, still trying to figure out who had fired the shot and at who.
In the emptiness that had moments before been a busy street corner, Neal is suddenly standing, his eyes wide as he slowly looks down at his hands.
There's blood. A lot of blood, Peter realizes as Neal's knees give out and he's dropping beside the gun. His hat rolls away.
Peter grabs one of his men to take care of the girl and dashes toward Neal, screaming for a medic as he falls to his knees. "Neal?"
His shirt is soaked in blood, his hands covered in it. Neal's eyes roll, his breath tight. "Peter...what...what happened?"
"Just stay with me." Peter gets his shirt open and almost wishes he hadn't. It's bad. "Hey, Neal. Look at me."
Neal's eyes aren't focusing, though he clearly is trying. "...cold..."
"Where is my medic?!" Peter yells, though he can see them coming now. "Hey, you do not have permission to die on me, Neal Caffrey." Peter says in his ear. "You hear me?"
"...trying not to..." Neal responds, his hand tightening slightly as Peter slides his into it. He moves as the EMTs get there, holding Neal's hand while they work.
"Okay, let's get him up." They lift Neal and head for the ambulance. Peter follows, knowing Diana will take care of the scene.
The ride to the hospital is long and Neal's eyes close part way there. Peter watches his chest, watches for his breathing.
It's too quiet and there's too much blood and just when he can't take it anymore they're moving and the EMTs are yelling information to the ER staff and he's left bloody and standing alone while they take Neal away.
...um....it didn't quite go all the way to comfort...oops...
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Date: 2012-01-17 04:25 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-01-17 05:16 pm (UTC)