Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist
content: recovery, (past) vampire whumper, broken bones, past loss of bodily autonomy, offscreen surgery, emotional whump
Whumpmas in July Day 18: Ache
back to this guy :)
-
Jim rubbed at the bump on his arm where the bone didn't heal quite right, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. The bone on his forearm went at an angle, up and up, before suddenly dropping off where it met misaligned with the rest of it going to his elbow. Bones, they'd told him there were two, but it was easier to just think of it as one.
It hurt, but it wasn't a bad hurt. Jim knew bad hurt. It was a dull ache he'd gotten used to over the past two years. It didn't hurt like the snap when Kane cracked Jim's arm open with his bare hands anymore, and he had pain meds now anyway. He'd tried to get on some stronger ones, but Liz had told him it wasn't a good idea, that he'd get hooked. Jim wasn't very good at disagreeing with people anymore, so he just took her word for it.
But he'd get some now for sure. Even Liz said it was okay this time. Because he had to get his arm re-broken.
Every day as the operation got closer, the dread grew more and more. He knew it wouldn't be like the first time. He'd be conked out, and he'd be allowed pain meds, real pain meds. It wasn't a punishment, and if all went well, his arm would be fixed. No reminder of Kane every time he looked at it. Probably no dull ache. It was even his own choice.
They couldn't fix the scar on his neck, neither the mark or the pain, so this was the best he could do to scrub off any lasting reminders Kane had left on his body. Liz's friend Laken had suggested a tattoo to cover it, but the idea of a needle going into his neck was so horrifying that the thought made him want to throw up.
But he could do this, at least. Even if breaking his arm again would be scary, he needed to claw his body back for himself. He needed to know it was his again, not Kane's. No matter how much it would hurt.
“I don’t belong to anyone. My body is mine. I’m out," Jim whispered to his reflection. Afraid to say it any louder, like Kane would be able to hear and swiftly correct him.
He got dressed, hiding his neck and arm under a turtleneck. He'd started dressing in them every day, though he knew he would need to take it off for the surgery. One more thing to dread about it, but he told himself it was worth it.
"You ready?" Liz asked as he came downstairs.
Jim shrugged. "As I'll ever be, I guess."
-
The operation was a success. If there was anything at all to thank Kane for, it would be that he'd made a relatively clean break.
Jim's arm hurt like hell when he woke, but he knew it wasn't as bad as it would be without the meds. He had a cast this time, and a real sling, not one he had to make himself. His friends kept wanting to sign the cast, but something about it made him wildly uncomfortable in a way he couldn't explain.
He knew the old him would have jumped at the chance to have all his friends sign it. Probably would have given out points for who could draw the best doodle. He was practically a social butterfly when he was nineteen, before Kane got to him, but now it just seemed like he kept finding more and more disconnects with his old friends. They had jobs and babies and memories of the past five years together, and all he had were Kane and panic attacks.
Even though his friends kept reaching out and inviting him to stuff, he was too neurotic to act like his old self. It felt like putting on an act, it felt wrong. And being his real self was even worse: he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want them to know.
His cast remained unmarked.
-
He woke with a scream a week after his surgery, his arm exploding with pain, far worse than it'd been during his recovery.
Jim looked around wildly, but couldn't see the source of the pain in the dark of his room. He sobbed, clutching his arm protectively to his chest. He'd been so badly-behaved lately that he couldn't even pinpoint what it was he was being punished for.
He flinched back into the headboard with a whimper as the door flew open. "Please don't," he begged, trembling.
"It's okay, it's just me," Liz soothed. She sat down next to him. "Nightmare again?"
"No, I don't- I don't think so?" Jim struggled to catch himself back up to reality, but with the haze of sleep leaving his mind and Liz's presence grounding him, he came to the conclusion it wasn't a punishment at all. "I hit my arm in my sleep," he realized. "Sorry for waking you. Didn't mean to."
"You're all good," Liz assured him. "I wasn't even asleep. Getting myself back on schedule for when I go back to work."
Jim's stomach turned at the thought, even though it was no surprise. "What if something happens to you?"
"Someone's gotta protect people from 'em. Plus, I know we live in the cheapest place in the country, but I've gotta get back to work," she pointed out.
"There's other jobs. I'll get one again too, once I'm better. You could just... not go back." As much as Jim hated living by the border, the fact that it was so cheap to live here at least gave them some leeway. At least they didn't have to worry about rent, even though selling the house was nearly impossible if they ever wanted to move.
Liz patted him on the back. "Not for me, there isn't. It'll be okay. I won't be alone, and I've been doing this for years with no issues."
"What about that?" Jim pointed to the scars on her face, faded claw-marks running dangerously close to her throat.
"That barely even counts. You should've seen the other guy. Dead, for what it's worth. Most vampires won't even fight us, they just decide it's not worth the trouble and run back home. It's gonna be fine." She gave him a quick hug. "You gonna be okay to go back to bed?"
"Yeah. Just... be safe. I can't lose you again," Jim said quietly.
Liz gave him a sad smile. "I know how you feel. I'll be as safe as I can. Just go back to sleep."
True to his disobedient streak, Jim couldn't manage to fall back asleep, mind racing with fear. Liz getting taken by vampires, subjected to the same hell as him, or having her mind stolen from her entirely. Kane showing back up to steal him away in the night while Liz is off fighting other vampires, arriving home too late to help. Jim reached a shaking hand under his pillow and took his stake- a real one this time- and held it close as he sobbed, trying to be quiet and not disturb Liz again.
He could only hope his arm would heal better than he was.
-
i'll be putting out two one-shots next! one about a fairy whumpee on friday, and one about an alien whumpee on monday. after that, more Jim in Distress!
Resident Evil, implied Leon/Chris, concussion, held at gunpoint. Enjoy! (1101 words)
Leon’s back is starting to ache. Which makes sense, considering he’s nearing forty and been thrown against so many walls by giant BOWs he’s honestly impressed it’s held out this long without issue. There’s been plenty of foreshadowing—his twenties had been the start of it all, and he’s been anticipating the day when he turns into an old man with a cranky spine, he just hadn’t realized it would be so constant. Every time he bends down to pick something up, it’s like his muscles all spontaneously spasm at once, painful twinges racing up his back like flames. Every time he mistimes a jump or backflip. Every time he runs too hard without properly warming up.
And even now it aches, while he’s staring across the dingy laboratory floor at Chris’s dismayed expression, the cold muzzle of a gun pressed firmly into the side of his skull.
“I’m sick of you fake ‘anti-terror’ fascists!” the guy behind him is shouting, his arm wrapped punishingly tight around Leon’s throat and collarbones. “I swear to God, if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll blow his brains across the goddamn wall!”
Leon winces when the gun barrel digs deeper into his scalp, the sticky dampness of drying blood still itching on his forehead. The guy had gotten him good with an ambush attack, leaping out from a closet when Leon had turned to say some stupid joke to Chris, slamming the butt of his pistol into Leon’s brow so hard he’d seen stars. He still feels dazed from it, a previous hit from a BOW accentuating the impact to give him one hell of a concussion. Leon tries to shift, wanting to relieve some of the pressure on his back from the awkward position, but the guy clearly isn’t taking any chances. He smacks the magazine of his gun into the skin just above Leon’s ear in a quick movement, the world immediately going a fraction more out of focus. Leon holds back a wave of nausea. His ears are ringing, and it’s starting to set in how bad this actually is.
“Don’t fucking move!” he hisses in Leon’s ear, and Leon can hear the panic in his voice. If not for the spiking agony assaulting his head, he’d have thrown this guy to the floor and broken his arm several times over, but he doesn’t want to risk screwing the maneuver up. Hand-to-hand with a gunman is risky at the best of times, and he can’t give him any opportunity to turn his aggression towards Chris, a mere ten feet away.
Leon’s head aches again, a pulsing flare of pain that forces a groan from his lips. Chris growls distantly.
“Put him down. You’re not going to achieve anything with a hostage, alright? He’s not with the BSAA, he’s—”
“Fucking government, I know. One of the assholes responsible for destroying my life! You all think you can just lord over everyone with your stupid anti-terror task forces, but it goes against all my rights as an American citizen!” The man is enraged now, gesturing sharply and forcing Leon to stumble around in his hold like a drunkard. He’s pretty sure if he stood still, the guy would be too weak to actually make him do anything, but his balance is still off and he’s practically clinging to his arm to keep himself upright. There’s some kind of irony there, Leon’s sure, but he doesn’t have the ability to think about it without his skull feeling like it’s about to explode. His knees feel like jelly. He wants nothing more than to close his eyes and fall asleep, but then Chris will get worried and make him visit the infirmary or something. He hates hospitals, especially the BSAA ones. They’ll want to take his blood and make him sit for endless tests. Not to mention the paperwork. The mere thought of it makes his head spin.
“---talk about this,” Chris is saying, and Leon blinks his blurry vision back into focus. Huh. When had he zoned out? He struggles to pay more attention to the conversation, but Chris’s voice is starting to sound like it’s coming from underwater and his face doesn’t look quite right. Kind of… off-centre. Leon realizes his head is starting to sag, correcting his posture with a quick movement that pushes him back against the gun’s mouth and sends blazing agony through his neck. Ugh… he might throw up. The angry man jostles him for the thousandth time.
“No!” His voice is the loudest thing Leon’s ever heard, ringing and aching through his eardrums over the high-pitched buzz that refuses to leave. “The time for talking is over! I need—”
The man jerks backwards, something hot and thick splattering the side of Leon’s face, and suddenly it’s like he’s a puppet cut from its strings. He collapses, reality fading away until he comes to on his back, Chris’s face hovering over him. There’s a cut on his cheek and Leon frowns, reaching up to wipe it away. His hand is strangely clumsy and he’s pretty sure it hits Chris harder than he’d intended, but Leon feels too dazed to give it much thought. Chris looks worried. A warm hand brushes the side of Leon’s face, pushing his bangs to the side, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Fuck, he wishes everything would stop spinning for a second. His head hurts.
"Stay with me, Leon," Chris murmurs from a distance, and Leon groans as his body is lifted, nausea swimming in his throat as his equilibrium tilts dangerously. He flicks his eyes open for a moment, bright lights swirling above him like psychedelic fireworks. He's moving? Wasn't there something important he was just doing? His hands are limp in his lap, fingers oddly numb. They don't even look like they belong to him.
"The guy?" he slurs out, not even sure what he's asking.
"Dead," Chris promises, face at once too close and far away. His eyes are so dark in this lighting. "Sniper took care of him. Keep your eyes open, Leon."
Leon didn't realize he'd closed them. He shifts, pressing his forehead into Chris's shoulder with a weak sound of protest. His neck aches like he's been slammed into cement by a tyrant, and he lets it swallow him, the comforting release of darkness hovering in the corners of his vision like a vulture on a battlefield. The last thing he hears is Chris's voice, promising that everything will be okay; Leon just has to hang in there.
He really needs to visit a chiropractor soon. His back hurts.
Whumpee with chronic pain has to sleep on the floor, and their whole body aches just from that alone. Being grabbed by the arm has their bones aching as if they’ve been broken, and being smacked leaves a deep aching pain that lasts far longer than it should. They can hardly move by the end of the day and can’t even feel the relief of sleep as their body stiffens up on the hard surface, only to be repeated the next day with worsening symptoms. The dull ache turns into something of a nightmare as it pounds through their whole body. When they’re finally given a soft bed to sleep on they oversleep and have their symptoms flare up anyways. Leaving them feeling like theres no way to stop the aching pain. It never stops. No matter what they do.
Nova could hear Gale talking, but his brother's words were just a jumble of sounds. He was still cold.
It was the one thing he was painfully aware of. The cold burned. It did made the rest of the pain a bit less noticeable. He wanted to move, but he couldn't get his body to move.
Even though he couldn't move, he was moving... which confused him.
Nova tried to open his eyes.
He managed to open his eyes. All he could make out was something grey and blue. Making him think of clouds.
Hold on... wasn't he outside?
And it was raining, wasn't it?
He wasn't sure. It could be. Why was his thoughts to jumbled? He wasn't sure about what was going on. His memories was just as confusing.
Someone talked, but he couldn't make out what was being said.
It hurt... Everything hurt.
The movement stopped and a figure appeared in front of his blurred and faded vision.
It took him a while before he realized that he person was saying something. He coughed, causing the pain in his body to get worse. The person in front of him, was talking again.
He could feel a hand on his shoulder.
"...nova?" the voice said.
The voice was familiar. It sounded like Gale.
Water... no rain was falling dripping on his face. He wanted to move, but his body did not want to listen to him.
"Hey..." Gale's voice "Don't try to move, kiddo..."
"Gale...." Nova groaned.
For a moment he could see the relief on his brother's face. "Yeah... It's me..." he said "Dammit... you scared me so badly.... I shouldn't have let you go in there alone"
Nova frowned slightly, but did not answer.
"I've taken care of your wounds... then we can go home and Lera will take care of you, alright?" Gale said softly.
"...Max...?" Nova coughed, feeling his world starting to fade around him.
"Max is alright" Gale said immediately, "You don't need to worry about him, just a few scraps and bruises"
Nova nodded slightly. Slowly the world around him started to fade again. He could hear Gale talking, but it just went back to jumbled sounds. The pain started taking over again, but the darkness pulled him down and it all faded until it was just blissful nothingness.
***
Gale looked down at his brother with a worried expression. It gave him some relief when Nova woke up for a bit. Only he was just so confused. With the bleeding and broken bones, he was not in a good shape.
Nova's room was quiet.
The only sound was his brother's struggling breaths. He managed to stop most of the bleeding. The broken bones he'll leave for Lera to fix.
A pained groan sounded from the bed and Gale leaned forward.
It looked like Nova was walking up. His breathing was off, almost sounding panicked.
"Hey.... Dami" Gale said softly "You need to keep still, Kiddo... Can you hear me, Nova?"
The miss matched eyes flickered open.
Nova's breathing caught for a moment, and then he started coughing. Quickly Gale helped his brother up a bit, clapping him gently on the back so he wouldn't hurt him.
When the coughing stopped, there was even more blood running down his chin.
"Lay back down..." Gale said as he let Nova lay down.
Nova's eyes focused on Gale. For a moment it looked like he wanted to say something, before groaning. He coughed.
"Easy now, Kiddo" Gale said, frowning as he noticed the bandages were dirty again. With a sigh he grabbed the first aid bag.
Before he could start undoing the bandages, the doorbell rang. He glanced at Nova. "Hold on... I'll be back in a little bit... Lera's here" he said, before he quickly left the room.
Lera stood on the other side of the door, holding her bag. "What happened?" she asked as she stepped into the house.
"A building collapsed on him and he must have gotten knocked out" Gale said "He got pretty banged up"
"Alright.... I got it" Lera said, immediately walking over to where Nova's room is. There was a worried frown on her face, but she did not say anything. If anything could hurt Nova enough to make Gale call her, it was usually bad.
The room was quiet.
Nova lay curled up on his side, taking small gasping breaths. The bandages around his wounds were already bloody and it looked like Gale was about to change them.
"How on earth did you manage to let this happen?" Lera asked as she quickly got everything out of the bag. One hand reached towards Nova, her power testing his body to see all the damage.
"Dammit, Dominic" she said as she turned back to her bag "How on earth did a building do this to you? Did you get distracted or something?"
Nova groaned as his eyes opened. ".... Lera..." he managed, pushing himself up a bit, only for his arm to give in beneath him and he collapse back against the pillows with a groan..
"Hallo, Dominic" Lera said, narrowing her eyes at him "Now.... I'm going to put you back together, but I will be knocking you out. Argue and I will make you regret it"
"...fuck you...." Nova groaned.
Lera rolled her eyes. "Let's get moving" she said as placed a hand over his forehead.
Within a few second, Nova's eyes rolled back and he went limp.
"You idiot" Lera said as she started treating his wounds. It did not take her very long before she finished.
"Lera" Gale said from the door.
"Come on in" she said as she focused on Nova's arm. It was a really bad break.
"How's it going?" he asked.
Lera huffed. "Like always.... I took care of the lacerations and bruising" she said "It's only his arm left now. I know this idiot has high pain tolerance, but he's going to hurt when he wakes up... So just keep an eye on him"
Gale nodded. "Thanks, Lera..." he said "I know he's difficult..."
"Not when he's sleeping" Lera said "then he's the perfect patient.... Now you either help or get out"
"Sorry Ma'am..." he said with a smile "But I know you'll ask if you need help"
"Exactly..." Lera said "So get out and let me work"
Gale nodded and quickly stepped out of the room. He breathed out and headed to Max's room. The kid was probably still sleeping.
"Hey, Kid" he said, knocking on the room.
"Yeah?" Max said from the inside "Come on in"
A slight smile formed on Gale's face as he stepped into the room. "You good?" he asked.
Max looked up from where he was playing on the laptop. "Yeah... I'm good" he said "Now's Dami?"
"Lera's with him now" Gale said "She said he'll be fine, but that it would hurt for a while"
Max snorted. "She's probably still mad at him so she would do her usually pain blocking on him" he said "So that's understandable.... He probably deserve it"
Gale chuckled and nodded. "Most likely"
***
Nova first became aware of the pain throbbing through his body. It was manageable, but still annoying.
It took him a moment before remembering what happened.
A building collapsed on him.
No wonder he felt like shit.
After that.... He couldn't remember exactly what happened, but somehow Amilia was there. But that could not be possible, because she was not in the country at the moment.
Maybe he just dreamt it. He did hit his head pretty hard.
A shiver ran through him, followed by a sneeze. Hopefully he wasn't getting sick. That would be terrible. With a groan, he slowly sat up. Immediately pain shot through his ribs and arm.
"Dammit..." he muttered before he continued moving. It hurt, but not enough to keep him from moving. His head felt foggy, so he needed to find out what happened.
Shaking his head, he slowly got up. His arm was broken, and he could still feel Lera's power lingering in the air and around his wounds.
For a moment the world turned, his knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed back onto the bed, gasping softly. He did not think that would hurt so much.
This time waited for a moment, before slowly getting up again.
Holding his broken arm tightly against his body, he slowly limped towards the door. With his other hand he patted his pocket.
His phone wasn't there.
With a sigh he turned slightly looking around. Maybe his brothers put it somewhere in his room.
He couldn't see it anywhere.
"Dammit..." he muttered "The Princess are going to be so fucking mad"
With a sigh he turned back to the door, feeling the stitches pulling painfully. Lera did not hold back as when she stitched him up this time. Mostly she just heal it enough so he wouldn't bleed.
Obviously she was still mad at him.
Nova shook his head and limped out of the room. Each step hurt, but he could push it to the back of his mind. Slowly he made his way down the stairs towards the living room and kitchen.
There were voices coming from the living room.
It sounded like he brothers where alright. He could remember a bit of what happened, but it was so jumbled up that he wasn't sure it it happened before or after the building collapsed.
"What are you doing up?" Max asked as he looked up.
Nova pulled his hand through his hair as he limped towards the couch, sitting down.
"Seriously...." Gale said "You look like crap, why aren't you in bed?"
"Because... It's fucking boring" Nova said quietly. Everything hurt, even breathing made his chest ache. He just did not want to stay in his room. It gets a bit cramped.
Gale shook his head. "How do you feel?" he asked.
"Like I've been hit by a fucking truck" Nova said, slowly leaning back. He breathed out slowly. There was no need to agitate his injuries any more.
"Then you should stay in bed" Max said, frowning slightly "Do you think you can eat something?"
Nova hesitated. "Depends on what it is" he said.
"Lera dropped some microwave meals" Gale said.
"fine..." Nova mumbled, "I'll try.."
Max got up and walked to the kitchen. Gale turned to Nova.
"Are you sure you feel alright?" he asked.
Nova looked at his brother. "I told you..." he said "I feel like shit.... Everything fucking hurts"
Gale nodded. "Do you want some pain killers?" he asked.
"No" Nova said "It's fine"
"Are you sure about that?" Gale asked "You look terrible"
"Yeah.... Thanks, Max already mentioned it" Nova snapped, flipping his brother off.
"I know... I'm just making sure you know that" Gale said, sitting back "You gave us a pretty bad scare"
"Where's my phone?" he asked, flatly.
"In the kitchen" Gale said "It was bloody and wet. We barely managed to save it"
Nova nodded slightly. "Did you call the Princess?" he asked.
"She called after we came back" Gale said, crossing his arms "She was worried about your stupid ass"
Nova pulled a face at him. "At least someone cares" he said, just as Max returned with a plate.
"Here you go, Asshole" Max said, holding out the plate.
A slight smile pulled on Nova's face. "Thanks, Bastard" he said.
Max chuckled and fell down on the couch. "Good to see you're not dead" he said.
hi! this fic is for @pauletteandrea28 i am so sorry it took like four months but i hope you enjoy it!!! it's set around s17 but nothing specific.
He aches. He’d thought, yesterday, afterwards, that he’d be fine. A little bruised, maybe. Nothing more. But now he’s sitting at his desk, looking into a construction company that’s looking more and more like a front for sex trafficking, and he feels like he can barely breathe.
He’s angry with himself for letting it happen. He’d been stupid. Chasing a highly dangerous man down a back alley with no backup, not even a call to his team to let them know what he was doing.
He’d paid for it - a dumpster shoved his way out of nowhere, pinning him to a brick wall, knocking all the air out of his lungs and sitting against him, heavy on his chest.
Their man had gotten away, obviously. Because of him. By the time he’d freed himself from his rusty metal prison, the guy was nowhere to be seen. And Sonny had had to tell his team that he had lost their perp.
He hadn’t told them about the dumpster, of course. It’s bad enough to be responsible for a dangerous man still being on the streets. He doesn’t need the extra embarrassment.
“Carisi! You coming?”
He looks up from his computer at the sound of Rollins’ voice. She, Fin, and Liv are standing by the elevator, and it’s clear he’s missed something.
Not that he’s going to let them know.
“Comin’,” he says, and stands up. His chest twinges, and he forces himself not to grimace, to just breathe (never mind that that hurts, too). He’s gonna have to go to the ER after work tonight. He’s pretty sure his ribs are bruised, if not broken.
“Are you alright, Carisi?” This is Liv, as they’re getting into the elevator. Maybe he hadn’t done as good a job of hiding his reaction as he’d thought.
Fin saves him. “Course he’s alright.” He puts up his hands like a boxer, throws a playful fake punch at Sonny’s chest. It barely even connects, but it hurts.
He hisses in a breath, which hurts too. He bites his lip, stifles a groan, closes his eyes when they start to water.
“Hey.” Fin’s voice is still playful, but it’s careful too. “What’s wrong with you?”
Sonny opens his eyes, blinks a few times. God, it hurts. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want them to know.
He feels his face heat up, the way it does when he’s embarrassed or upset. He’s both now, and he hates it.
Rollins’ hand is on his arm. “C’mon, look at me. What’s wrong?”
He opens his mouth to say something but the words won’t come. The sharp pain is receding, turning into a more pronounced version of the ache that’s been enveloping his chest since yesterday.
It’s not even that bad. But it still fucking hurts.
“Are you hurt?” This is Liv. The elevator has stopped, but no one moves.
Sonny can’t bring himself to lie to her, but he doesn’t want to tell the truth either. He settles for a shrug, for stepping off of the elevator.
The three others follow, naturally. They don’t let him get out of the front door, shepherding him to a relatively secluded part of the lobby and then pouncing on him.
“You need to tell us what’s going on, right now.” Rollins is all business, but there’s concern underneath. He doesn’t deserve it. Not for this.
“I’m fine.” He is, relatively speaking. It’s not a complete lie. It’s not like he’s bleeding. It’s not like he’s concussed. He can still do the job. He just wishes it didn’t hurt so much.
“You’re not.” Fin says it like fact.
Sonny hates that he’s right.
“It’s nothin’, really. No reason to be concerned.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” Liv says. “What happened?” The question is gentle, but firm.
There’s no getting out of it now.
“Yesterday, when…when I let that guy get away. He shoved a dumpster at me, got me in the chest. Stupid, I know.” He says it quickly, not quite meeting her eyes.
“Not your fault,” Fin says. “Busted ribs?”
Sonny shrugs, which hurts. “I dunno. Maybe.”
“How bad’s the bruising?” Rollins asks.
It had been bad enough this morning, a harsh line of purple across his entire chest and scattered splotches beneath that. “It’s not so bad,” he says, because it definitely could be worse.
“Can I take a look?” Liv asks. He knows she wouldn’t press if he said no, but he isn’t going to deny her request. Anyway, they’re not angry with him. And none of them had laughed when he’d told them what happened. They’re not looking at him weird. They’re just worried. He can deal with that, even if it’s not something he really deserves.
“Yeah, okay.” He turns his back to the rest of the room, tosses his tie over his shoulder, untucks and lifts up his shirt to reveal the bruising.
“Jesus,” Rollins says, and Sonny looks down. His view is slightly hampered by his shirt and hands, but - it’s pretty bad. The bruising has darkened and spread since this morning. Seeing it makes the ache in his chest redouble, and he quickly releases his shirt, tucking it back in.
“You’re going to the ER,” says Liv.
“I will.”
“Now.”
“I can go after -”
“You’re going now.”
“But -”
Liv shakes her head, cutting him off. “No buts, Carisi. Go now. Take care of yourself.”
She’s firm, but she’s not mad. He doesn’t have a reason to say no, beyond his own stubbornness and sense of pride.
And so he gives in. “Alright, alright, I’m going.” He raises his hands in mock surrender (which, like every other action, hurts) and goes outside to catch a cab to the nearest emergency room.
thanks for reading! the ending is a bit wonky but that is par for the course by now. hope you liked it!
CW: heartache, grief, mentioned character death, failed execution, death of a lover, whumpee accused of a crime they didn’t commit, left for dead, improvised wound treatment, emotional numbness, sea monster
How my triton boy, Jökull, became a warlock.
Taglist: @emmettnet
A wild blast of this new, unfamiliar magic finally managed to frighten away the shark that came too close.
Jökull doesn't know what to feel.
He watches the predator disappear into the sunless depths of the waters beyond the shelf where he landed. Its fins fade into the void.
Perhaps he should cover up his wounds. The scent of blood will only attract more hungry dwellers.
He instinctively reaches for his pack, his hand meeting empty water before he realizes - right, he doesn't have it with him anymore.
They tossed him out with nothing but the clothes on his back and rope fastened to his wrists and ankles. He wasn't going to need anything else where he was expecting to be going.
What good was first aid to a dead man?
'You were lying to us this whole time. You just wanted his share of the loot!'
'That's not true!'
'I can't believe you'd do something so despicable. I thought you loved him.'
'I did! IT WASN'T ME!'
Except Jökull didn't die.
He awakened on the sand bed still tied to that barrel full of stones, his arms and shoulders still a bloody mess where the barnacles had shredded him.
While he may not be able to drown, he should’ve been a shark's tasty free dinner by now. But nothing, not even a crab, had taken any bite of him.
Their last dinner together had been crabs. Sitting up in the crow's nest talking under the starry night.
He shook away the memory.
There were no bandages to be found in the ocean. So unless he wanted to rip apart his clothing, it was time to look for some kelp.
He looked down at the fabric adorning him, decorated with all the tears, scuffs, and stains of the sailing life.
He's a creature of the ocean. He doesn't need clothing.
After a couple hours of swimming, Jökull finally came across a cluster of kelp stalks. The waters were shallower here, beams of sunlight raining down from the surface.
Sun.
He must be close to land. Some island perhaps.
Sun is gone.
The first few decent looking leaves were torn. He ignored the sting as he layered them onto his skin.
Sunvar is dead. They think he killed him.
Burning tears pricked at his eyes. He squeezed them shut. A broken sob clawed its way up his throat. He clenched his jaw closed.
The sun beams danced across the sand and Jökull refused to watch. So he didn't look at anything. He sat in the shade of the kelp, knees tucked against his chest, face buried in his arms, and did not watch.
The water was quiet. Calm. Caressed his trembling form in a cool embrace. It should've felt like home. The sea was his home.
The sea had taken his light, his love, his heart.
Something nudges his arm, and when Jökull lifts his head his neck is sore and there aren't any more sunbeams. It would hurt, feel like the awful memory slapping him in the face, but his thoughts and attention are stolen by a bright red glow piercing through the darkness.
Oh.
So it wasn't a hallucination.
The creature had been real. And it was currently hovering next to him staring with eyes bigger than his head.
It was easily big enough to prey on the sharks in this region. Dark blue scales covered its long, eel-like body. A dorsal crest ran the length of its back, nearly reaching the tail fins. Given the bioluminescent red spots below its eyes, and a shining white globule (that suddenly lit up in his face) attached to its head like a fishing lure, it no doubt originated from the abyssal plains of the deep ocean.
Yet it followed him here.
To shallow, sunlit water.
And does not seem to 1. be facing any negative effects of changes in water pressure, and 2. have any intention of devouring him despite the very full mouth of teeth. Teeth that made his capt- former captain's infamous sabers look like butter knives.
Jökull doesn't know what to feel.
The magic powers had been one thing.
"So are you the reason I ain't dead right now?"
He half expected it to talk back; at least then he'd have confirmation that he was losing his mind. But no, it didn't respond in any form of speech. It merely nudged his arm again before coiling its body around his. Gentle. Comforting even. As if he was a clutch of its - her? - eggs in a nest.
It was probably as close to a 'yes' as he was going to get.
Jökull decided the questions could wait for later.
