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[drabbles] injuries
i subscribe to the loosey-goosey definition of drabble which is "an amount of words that is not very long"
these are frommmmm 2019(?) when a prompts list was floating around and i asked friends for prompts + characters. these are them. rated T for well. physical injuries and violence.
--
FE:A - sully, arm in a sling
It was bad when you couldn't feel it, right? Most likely. Probably. Sully tried flexing her swollen fingers again and swore again when nothing happened (again).
At least she could walk.
She managed to wrangle the broken head of her lance into the ground and use it to saw off part of her tunic and the cinch of the dead enemy's saddle. Maribelle would most definitely yell at her for the shoddy workmanship - hell, Sully was too because she knew better but it was kind of hard to do this with one hand so give her a break, yeah? - but half an hour later she had managed to successfully wrap and sling her arm.
Free hand rubbing her aching jaw (both the bruises and because she had had to hold the strap in place between her teeth) Sully stood. It was going to be a long trudge home.
--
OCs - percy (mine), treasured possession destroyed
The ruins were still smoldering in spots and his boots and gloves were already black with soot, but Percival kept digging. Mindless - because if he thought about it too hard he'd break down - rooting through what had once been his home. It had only been a matter of time before the news of his desertion reached fellow ranger ears and this was just the beginning of his punishment.
Only the fireplace and a few beams of the house were left; they stood like burnt matchsticks and the barn wasn't any better. Percival managed to shove away what had once been the floor to the loft and started searching for anything that had survived the flames.
Then he found the photographs. Or rather he found the remains and scorched glass. The beautiful smiling couple at a wedding was no more. They had survived one fire, fifteen years prior, surely-!
Abruptly Percival sat back. He was burning here sitting in the midday sun and surrounded by hot ashes. Sweat dropped uncomfortably down between his shoulder blades and down his face. He cleared his throat from the dust and wiped at his face. Just sweat. Only sweat.
--
OCs - malvdala (not mine, belongs to klinki @ tumblr), blood from the mouth
Mal woke up on the battlefield.
Or rather she was no longer unconscious and oh- oh dear- that was pain. An acidic and coiling burn that was sinking in through her skin and into her bones. Copper (copper: Cu, used frequently in making coin and an excellent conduit) was thick on her tongue and she rolled over to get onto her knees. The world swayed under her.
Get a hold of yourself, Malvdala.
In the near distance she heard the clang of weapons and someone shouting. She opened her mouth to answer - answer what she wasn’t even certain what the words were - and coughed wetly instead. It hurt but she managed to wipe her mouth just in time for a shadow to fall over her and raise its axe.
Magic ignited on her fingertips and she raised her head to meet the eye of the lumbering minotaur with a fearful bloody smile.
--
OCs - emil (not mine, belongs to zeekubeast @ tumblr), if i can't have you/knife to the throat
“We could’ve been great, Emil.”
How quaint, he sounded disappointed. Emil shrugged off the oily feeling of William’s voice in favor of carefully marking the runes for “open” and “break” into the floorboards. His captor would only see him aimlessly making patterns out of boredom and he kept his back to the man.
But then William started walking towards him and he thought he heard the sound of steel on leather. “With your talents and my plans, this entire area would have been ours for shaping. And yet you insist on leaving.”
The blade of William’s ghastly dagger fell against his neck and Emil jerked from the razor thin slice it left. Glass shattered somewhere downstairs - Percival - and William chuckled into his ear.
“If I can’t have you,” William pressed on his back from behind and the knife closer to his neck. “No one can.”
--
OCs - percy (mine) and emil (@zeekubeast), sensory deprivation
“Temporary, my ass,” Percival snarled to himself. Or at least he thought he did. He could feel the vibrations of his voice if not hear the actual words.
He guided himself along the smooth wall in what seemed to be a circular room but he couldn't be certain. Not without his eyesight either. And it had been this way for much much longer than Emil had said. Uncertainty surmised. Guessed.
But Emil was gone as well and now Percival was left alone with no one but himself and whatever else might be lurking in the abandoned caverns. He had already slammed his foot into a table and kicked away something round.
Percival swung his foot out and felt the leg of another table. The same table once he had passed his hands over it.
“Fuck me,” he said to hopefully no one and sat against the wall.
Emil had told him not to move a while back, when his eyesight had left him and his hearing was dying, but that had been hours ago so he had shuffled along to feel where he was. Only to fall through rotten wood and now…? A round room with no exits.
Percival thunked the back of his head against the wall with another, “Fuck me.”
He sat, eyes open and ears pricked, hoping for the slightest change. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Until something warm landed on his shoulder and Percival felt himself jump out of his skin.
“Who’s there?!” Percival barked. If an answer came, he didn't hear it. The warmth returned - a hand - and he froze.
“Emil?”
The hand squeezed in confirmation and Percival fell back against the wall boneless. “You scared what daylight I had left right outta me.”
Emil - gods, he hoped it was Emil - slid down next to him and gently took a hold of his hand. The warmth was comforting against the cold floor, and Percival rubbed his thumb over Emil’s knuckles. He liked Emil’s hands; the soft and scarred palms, shorter and tapered fingers, and how they fit neatly into his. They were deft and strong hands.
Percival felt Emil say something to him by the way his breathing changed and the vibration through their arms pressed together, but he shook his head. “Still can't hear or see. Might as well be drunk and lost in a sandstorm.”
There was a pause. And then the vibration started again in earnest and Emil shifted beside him to sit on his lap. Percival gazed up in what he guessed Emil’s face and raised an eyebrow. “Darlin’, I don't know what in the nine hells you're doin’, but in ain't complaining.”
He could practically feel Emil smile above him. And then he did when Emil’s mouth pressed against his own.
--
Freebird Games (To the Moon) - neil watts, slammed against a wall
The meat world really sucked when you left behind the cool administrative access to someone's brain and therefore a pocket of questionable reality to trade for shit like gravity and pain.
Oh boy that was a lot of pain.
Neil and his equipment hit the wall sideways even before his eyes opened. Out of instinct he reached for the administrator's controls, ready to hit pause or add dramatic lightning before he fus-ro-dah’d this sucker into the next stage of life. But even as he mentally typed in his password, Neil saw the boot (steel toed? really?) swing at him and then he saw stars.
Shouting had started up. Eva’s own controls were being tossed aside while she untangled herself from the mess. The grieving family, having seconds ago lost their (rather cool if witness to a murder) aunt, were a cacophony of wailing and other loud noises Neil really couldn’t place just now.
“What did you see?!” Mr. Beefy McMuscles roared at Neil, having hauled him up like a sack of potatoes and shoved him face first into a picture frame.
“Couldn't wait for me to get out of my very very expensive headset?” Neil wheezed with what air he had. His nose certainly wasn't helping while it was broken and full of blood.
McMuscles didn't think highly of criticism apparently. Neil rudely met the corner of the picture frame again with his chin.
“Let him go!” Eva thundered and a thud followed as something heavy hit McMuscles.
“Stay out of this, lady! I don't hit girls.”
There was a fraction of a pause before Neil started laughing hysterically. Sort of. It was more of a squashed warble.
And then McMuscles started grunting in pain while Eva shrieked. “This! Is! So! Many! Levels! Of! Stupid!”
Only when the ninth syllable-blow hit did McMuscles turn towards the real credible threat and released Neil to collapse awkwardly to his knees against the wall. Neil twisted and saw just in time for the busted lamp to connect to McMuscles’ temple and the guy collapsed on the ugly bear skin rug.
Eva’s furious heavy breathing and muffled sobs from one of the family filled the room.
“I keeb tellin’ youb to join the softball team.”
“Not now, Neil.”
these are frommmmm 2019(?) when a prompts list was floating around and i asked friends for prompts + characters. these are them. rated T for well. physical injuries and violence.
--
FE:A - sully, arm in a sling
It was bad when you couldn't feel it, right? Most likely. Probably. Sully tried flexing her swollen fingers again and swore again when nothing happened (again).
At least she could walk.
She managed to wrangle the broken head of her lance into the ground and use it to saw off part of her tunic and the cinch of the dead enemy's saddle. Maribelle would most definitely yell at her for the shoddy workmanship - hell, Sully was too because she knew better but it was kind of hard to do this with one hand so give her a break, yeah? - but half an hour later she had managed to successfully wrap and sling her arm.
Free hand rubbing her aching jaw (both the bruises and because she had had to hold the strap in place between her teeth) Sully stood. It was going to be a long trudge home.
--
OCs - percy (mine), treasured possession destroyed
The ruins were still smoldering in spots and his boots and gloves were already black with soot, but Percival kept digging. Mindless - because if he thought about it too hard he'd break down - rooting through what had once been his home. It had only been a matter of time before the news of his desertion reached fellow ranger ears and this was just the beginning of his punishment.
Only the fireplace and a few beams of the house were left; they stood like burnt matchsticks and the barn wasn't any better. Percival managed to shove away what had once been the floor to the loft and started searching for anything that had survived the flames.
Then he found the photographs. Or rather he found the remains and scorched glass. The beautiful smiling couple at a wedding was no more. They had survived one fire, fifteen years prior, surely-!
Abruptly Percival sat back. He was burning here sitting in the midday sun and surrounded by hot ashes. Sweat dropped uncomfortably down between his shoulder blades and down his face. He cleared his throat from the dust and wiped at his face. Just sweat. Only sweat.
--
OCs - malvdala (not mine, belongs to klinki @ tumblr), blood from the mouth
Mal woke up on the battlefield.
Or rather she was no longer unconscious and oh- oh dear- that was pain. An acidic and coiling burn that was sinking in through her skin and into her bones. Copper (copper: Cu, used frequently in making coin and an excellent conduit) was thick on her tongue and she rolled over to get onto her knees. The world swayed under her.
Get a hold of yourself, Malvdala.
In the near distance she heard the clang of weapons and someone shouting. She opened her mouth to answer - answer what she wasn’t even certain what the words were - and coughed wetly instead. It hurt but she managed to wipe her mouth just in time for a shadow to fall over her and raise its axe.
Magic ignited on her fingertips and she raised her head to meet the eye of the lumbering minotaur with a fearful bloody smile.
--
OCs - emil (not mine, belongs to zeekubeast @ tumblr), if i can't have you/knife to the throat
“We could’ve been great, Emil.”
How quaint, he sounded disappointed. Emil shrugged off the oily feeling of William’s voice in favor of carefully marking the runes for “open” and “break” into the floorboards. His captor would only see him aimlessly making patterns out of boredom and he kept his back to the man.
But then William started walking towards him and he thought he heard the sound of steel on leather. “With your talents and my plans, this entire area would have been ours for shaping. And yet you insist on leaving.”
The blade of William’s ghastly dagger fell against his neck and Emil jerked from the razor thin slice it left. Glass shattered somewhere downstairs - Percival - and William chuckled into his ear.
“If I can’t have you,” William pressed on his back from behind and the knife closer to his neck. “No one can.”
--
OCs - percy (mine) and emil (@zeekubeast), sensory deprivation
“Temporary, my ass,” Percival snarled to himself. Or at least he thought he did. He could feel the vibrations of his voice if not hear the actual words.
He guided himself along the smooth wall in what seemed to be a circular room but he couldn't be certain. Not without his eyesight either. And it had been this way for much much longer than Emil had said. Uncertainty surmised. Guessed.
But Emil was gone as well and now Percival was left alone with no one but himself and whatever else might be lurking in the abandoned caverns. He had already slammed his foot into a table and kicked away something round.
Percival swung his foot out and felt the leg of another table. The same table once he had passed his hands over it.
“Fuck me,” he said to hopefully no one and sat against the wall.
Emil had told him not to move a while back, when his eyesight had left him and his hearing was dying, but that had been hours ago so he had shuffled along to feel where he was. Only to fall through rotten wood and now…? A round room with no exits.
Percival thunked the back of his head against the wall with another, “Fuck me.”
He sat, eyes open and ears pricked, hoping for the slightest change. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Until something warm landed on his shoulder and Percival felt himself jump out of his skin.
“Who’s there?!” Percival barked. If an answer came, he didn't hear it. The warmth returned - a hand - and he froze.
“Emil?”
The hand squeezed in confirmation and Percival fell back against the wall boneless. “You scared what daylight I had left right outta me.”
Emil - gods, he hoped it was Emil - slid down next to him and gently took a hold of his hand. The warmth was comforting against the cold floor, and Percival rubbed his thumb over Emil’s knuckles. He liked Emil’s hands; the soft and scarred palms, shorter and tapered fingers, and how they fit neatly into his. They were deft and strong hands.
Percival felt Emil say something to him by the way his breathing changed and the vibration through their arms pressed together, but he shook his head. “Still can't hear or see. Might as well be drunk and lost in a sandstorm.”
There was a pause. And then the vibration started again in earnest and Emil shifted beside him to sit on his lap. Percival gazed up in what he guessed Emil’s face and raised an eyebrow. “Darlin’, I don't know what in the nine hells you're doin’, but in ain't complaining.”
He could practically feel Emil smile above him. And then he did when Emil’s mouth pressed against his own.
--
Freebird Games (To the Moon) - neil watts, slammed against a wall
The meat world really sucked when you left behind the cool administrative access to someone's brain and therefore a pocket of questionable reality to trade for shit like gravity and pain.
Oh boy that was a lot of pain.
Neil and his equipment hit the wall sideways even before his eyes opened. Out of instinct he reached for the administrator's controls, ready to hit pause or add dramatic lightning before he fus-ro-dah’d this sucker into the next stage of life. But even as he mentally typed in his password, Neil saw the boot (steel toed? really?) swing at him and then he saw stars.
Shouting had started up. Eva’s own controls were being tossed aside while she untangled herself from the mess. The grieving family, having seconds ago lost their (rather cool if witness to a murder) aunt, were a cacophony of wailing and other loud noises Neil really couldn’t place just now.
“What did you see?!” Mr. Beefy McMuscles roared at Neil, having hauled him up like a sack of potatoes and shoved him face first into a picture frame.
“Couldn't wait for me to get out of my very very expensive headset?” Neil wheezed with what air he had. His nose certainly wasn't helping while it was broken and full of blood.
McMuscles didn't think highly of criticism apparently. Neil rudely met the corner of the picture frame again with his chin.
“Let him go!” Eva thundered and a thud followed as something heavy hit McMuscles.
“Stay out of this, lady! I don't hit girls.”
There was a fraction of a pause before Neil started laughing hysterically. Sort of. It was more of a squashed warble.
And then McMuscles started grunting in pain while Eva shrieked. “This! Is! So! Many! Levels! Of! Stupid!”
Only when the ninth syllable-blow hit did McMuscles turn towards the real credible threat and released Neil to collapse awkwardly to his knees against the wall. Neil twisted and saw just in time for the busted lamp to connect to McMuscles’ temple and the guy collapsed on the ugly bear skin rug.
Eva’s furious heavy breathing and muffled sobs from one of the family filled the room.
“I keeb tellin’ youb to join the softball team.”
“Not now, Neil.”