#wound reveal

[whumpetywhump]

Till The End Of The Moon - Ep. 2

[that-one-thespian]

Ding!

“Be right with you, darlin’!” Lisbeth calls over her shoulder as the bell over the door rings. The bright afternoon light coming through the windows has softened into a gentle evening sunset. Church bells ring through the air to mark the hour, and as the door swings closed she can hear the hubbub of people in the streets of people leaving the market for the day.

Her strong arms pull the dough, push it together, mold it into a ball, flatten it again. Still just a tad too sticky, she pushes, pulls, and finds a moment to halt in her rhythm. Setting the dough over a small hook by the bench, she wipes flour-dusted hands on her apron and goes to the counter. “Just getting some dough ready to rest overnight. How can I help, hon? I’m going to be closing up soon, almost out of stock for the day. Still got some rolls and a few cinnamon buns, some…” She searches her shelves. “Oh! You’re in luck, still got some brioche from this morning’s batch. What are you looking for?”

It’s at that moment that she takes in the woman in her shop. Face overcast with shadow thanks to the deep gray hood over her head, Lisbeth watches her stumble and drop to the floor. 

“Oh! Gracious, are you all right?” Lisbeth hurries to the woman’s side, eyes widening as she notes the growing deep red stain on her clothes that was previously hidden by the folds of her cloak. The silvered hilt of a dagger juts out from her side. “Oh, goodness! Oh, that’s a lot of blood. Okay, hon, there’s a healer just a few streets over, I’m going to bring you over there, okay?”

“No!” The woman’s voice is hoarse with desperation as she clutches at Lisbeth’s wrist. “Please, I need to stay, I beg of you.” 

“Oh! Okay, love, but that looks like quite a hurt there, and I don’t know how much I can be a help with that.”

“Just-” The hood falls around the woman’s neck as she strains to stand, and Lisbeth looks down into fearful green eyes, at a delicate face framed by silvery blonde tresses. “Please, I beg you, I need a place to hide.”

“Well, I can provide that, love, I’ve got a room we can getcha tucked away in. Don’t you worry, hon, I can try my best to fix you up. Can you tell me what’s happened to you?” Flustered, she hurries to the windows and draws the drapes tightly closed. She can close up shop early today. “Okay, love, brace yourself, this might hurt-” 

With a grunt, she hefts the woman in her arms, realizing belatedly she should have dusted the flour and dough off of herself. The woman flinches, muffling her cry by covering her mouth with both hands, and Lisbeth’s heart twinges in sympathy as she sees the tears tracking down her face. One tear lands on a golden ring bearing the symbol of a crossed rose and sword as she shakily removes her hands.

“Miss? What’s happened?” Her voice is barely a whisper as she starts putting pieces together. The bells ringing outside aren’t the church bells. The sounds are deeper, louder. They’re warning bells. The hoofbeats falling on cobblestone outside are getting closer, accompanied by shouting.

Those deep green eyes lock onto hers. “House Kelaia has fallen.” 

With that, the Crown Princess Brielle Kelaia falls unconscious in her arms.

[spacecasehobbit]

People who watch the entirety of Saltburn and still insist that it was meant to be class commentary, good or bad, are like if Felix had met Oliver's parents and then spent the drive back to Saltburn insisting that Oliver's mom had really sobered up and moved on from his dead dad to marry a new man really quickly. The movie had a twist ending, and I get that not everyone likes a twist ending when they were invested in the story they originally thought they were getting. Not liking the twist, though, isn't the same as refusing to accept that the twist ending changes the narrative entirely.

Saltburn is not about class commentary. It's about loneliness and obsession and how those things can drive someone into terrible choices that ruin their own and others' lives lives in pursuit of friendship with the wrong people.

Oliver tells himself at the end that he wanted the wealth and power of the Cattons, because that's what he wound up with, but he went into things wanting Felix. He started the movie wanting to fit in and have friends.

Oliver pretends to Felix during the movie that he comes from some exaggerated stereotype of Poverty, because he knows that will garner him more sympathy from Felix than admitting that he has just always been an awkward person who struggles to make friends and doesn't connect well with his perfectly normal family.

It's not class commentary. It's loneliness and obsession and wanting approval from the wrong people because their attention seems positive enough to mask that they're just using you commentary. It's lonely stalker meets callous mediocre rich boy who love bombs desperate loners because he likes being adored and it predictably ends Very Badly For Everyone commentary.

You can get class commentary out of it, because Death of Author and all that, but it's not about class commentary.

[moonetta-art]

I want the reveal to be angsty!

I see why people want LB and CN to choose to transform to show how much they trust each other it’s very cute! But I want them to detransform in the middle of a battle injured and desperate AND THEN SEEING EACH OTHER’S TRUE IDENTITIES AND

[blindmagdalena]

really obsessed with soulmate au’s recently and it got me thinking… what if john’s soulmate was part of the boys? a girl trying to kill him with an entire group of people also trying to kill him… and he’s fated to her? could picture him finding out and just putting his hands on his hips while turning his back to her and doing that click chuckle thing. just in utter disbelief but it is definitely on track for fate’s little play with him and his life lolol

Oohhh, you know, I've never played much with the soulmate au concept, but this struck me just right because I can so clearly see the slow, building meltdown that strikes him when that reveal drops.

The mirthless laugh, shaking his head, the hapless gesture to the ceiling before his hands drop. "Of course. Of course it's you. Why wouldn't it be? I mean—Christ, it makes sense, doesn't it? Every single person who was supposed to love me has-has fucked it, so why—" he keeps cutting into this escalating, unsettling laughter. There's nothing funny about it: you're sure that you're watching someone lose the last shred of their sanity in real time. "Why would my 'soulmate'-", he says, miming big, dramatic quotation marks. "-be any different?" That manic grin has shifted into tight baring of his teeth, a vicious sneer. He closes in on you, stands so near you can feel the heat of his breath when he hisses, "I should put you in the fucking dirt with the rest of them."

It should be terrifying, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the glassiness of his eyes. The sheer devastating heartbreak of it all, telegraphed clear as day in the way he carries himself. His eyes flare red, sizzling up the tears before they can fall. "And then you really will be all alone," you say. Maybe it's the hopelessness of the moment, maybe it's the shock of learning for yourself that he's supposed to be your one and only, but you feel numb. Frayed in a way you didn't know you could be. The crimson light of his eyes disappears in an instant, revealing surprise, followed by a wounded kind of look, before that familiar seething rage returns. "We'll see about that."

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 20- found family

I played with so many ideas for this one but settled for Rusl adopting Link. Idk I hc that he adopted Link officially during the temple of time (that’s mentioned in one of my love at twilight fics) and I also headcanon that he discovered his ability to turn into a wolf before the temple. This would probably make more sense with context but hey I’m really good at writing fics without any bdksbsksbsk. Also! I love the idea that the resistance members go with Link into the temples. So Auru goes to the arbiter’s ground and Gerudo desert, Ashei goes to Snowpeak and the Snowpeak ruins, you get the idea. So naturally Rusl goes to the temple of time with Link, also with recent events it actually made sense 😌idk how I feel about this one it’s ok I guess

Warnings: mentions of an injury. This is more wholesome honestly

~~~~~~~~~~~

Rusl was at war with himself. When he returned to Ordon, he had hoped to investigate deeper in the woods, curious about a temple that was rumored to be there. But what he didn’t expect to happen was shooting Link in the leg and discovering his otherworldly ability to transform into a wolf. It was a mess, Rusl’s guilt for hurting the boy that he took under his wing was sheer agony, and the strange imp friend that traveled with Link didn’t make it any better. Link had reassured Rusl over and over again, but he couldn’t forgive himself, not with the way Link limped around, acting as if nothing was wrong.

Link had asked Rusl about the forest and the strange temple hidden within it, and despite the fact that Rusl didn’t want to be near him to avoid hurting him again, he couldn’t let Link investigate the forest alone. He knew that Midna was with him, but he admittedly didn’t trust her with his injury, and Link didn’t know how to take a break even when he was in pain, so he grabbed his beloved golden cuccoo and followed Link into the woods.

Rusl tried to keep his distance from Link, only keeping a protective eye on him, but with how creepy the woods were and how easy it was to get lost, he decided to stick to Link’s side, despite his own mind yelling at him for doing so. Link didn’t seem to mind, he was concentrated on catching a strange child playing a weird tune. As soon as Link saw him, he shot the kid with his bow and arrow, and a new passageway would open. It shocked Rusl, but the child didn’t seem to be injured from it, so he brushed it off and followed Link. Eventually, the child went away and opened a way through the lost woods. What followed next was a whirlwind of events, Link plunged his master sword through a pedestal beyond stone statues, shadow beasts ambushed them, they traveled through time, Link plunged his sword through a pedestal again, stairs appeared, and strange bird-like creatures rushed up the stairs, leaving Rusl baffled.

Link only chuckled awkwardly and entered the temple, and Rusl quickly followed, keeping a close eye on Link. Link seemed rather upbeat, he and Midna were chatting about random things, but he limped along the halls and doors, every limp feeling like a dagger through Rusl’s heart.

The three observed a statue, which stood alone beside a door frame. Rusl frowned, it looked like there would be another statue mirroring the other one, but a spot where it would be was empty. Midna and Link picked up on this as well, and Midna suggested that he turned into a wolf so that he could double check. Rusl didn’t know how being a wolf could confirm that, but he decided not to question it.

Midna held a strange crystal and put it up to Link’s forehead, and he was surrounded by shadows, being replaced with a wolf. Rusl watched with nausea building up inside him. He hadn’t seen his wolf form since he shot him with an arrow, but it was surreal seeing it again, and he had to tell himself that it was Link. It’s ok… that’s your boy… it’s ok…

“You ok, Rusl?”

Rusl looked at Midna who was perched on top of Link. She was smirking at him while Link sniffed the empty area.

“I’m fine, just… feeling a little sick.”

Midna hummed. “Yeah, guess going through time like that is jarring isn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

Midna gave a more genuine smile as Link perked his ears. She looked closer at the empty spot and cheered. “I knew it! A statue was once here! Looks like we’ll need to get it if we want to get through this door.”

Link turned back into a Hylian and winced as he put weight on his leg. Rusl watched him worriedly as he leaned against the wall.

“Link? Are you ok?” He asked, and Link waved it off.

“‘M fine. Transforming with an injury just hurts a lot is all.”

Rusl pursed his lips and looked down. He remembered when he turned into a Hylian before his very eyes with his blasted arrow protruding from his leg. The screams he made still haunted him.

The three traveled through the temple, Rusl being unusually quiet. He kept his distance from Link and Midna, and a couple of times, they got separated due to a door suddenly shutting and locking Rusl out. He was more careful after that.

Eventually, Link grew quiet as well, and he stuck back with Rusl as Midna rambled about the creepy spiders. Rusl felt him glancing at him a couple of times, and when Midna floated away, he turned to the swordsman.

“Rusl… I… is everything alright?” He asked, wringing his hands anxiously.

Rusl stared at him. There was no reason to lie, Link wasn’t a child, but he could feel the relationship was more tense than before. He didn’t know how to bring his feelings up.

“If—if you feel bad about what happened, it’s ok,” Link mumbled. “You didn’t know that was me, and I scared you…”

Rusl shook his head. “It’s not ok, Link. I could’ve killed you. I was— I was trying to kill you! I could never forgive myself if I was the reason that you died and—- spirits above Link it’s not ok!”

“How many times am I gonna have to tell you that it’s ok,” Link said softly.

“How can this be ok? Link I shot you! You’re still limping and you’re pretending everything is fine! I just— I can’t get over this! None of this is ok!”

Link looked down ashamed, and Rusl kicked himself. He didn’t want Link to feel like he was being reprimanded, he did nothing wrong. He sucked in a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Link, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. You– you’re like a son to me and I want you to feel safe around me but I ruined that for you, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay by me and Uli because I’m upset over this whole situation.” Rusl let out a huff of frustration and looked up at Link, who’s eyes were widened in shock.

“What did you say?”

Rusl stopped and looked at Link confused. “I– I said that-that you’re…” Rusl’s voice trailed off and his eyes widened in realization. Why did he have to bring this up now? He sighed, figuring there was no reason to back track now. “Link, I– I see you as a son. Ever since you came into mine and Uli’s life I’ve felt a sense of responsibility towards you. You felt like a blessing from the goddesses to me. I mean the others feel the same way, Colin adores you and Uli adores you and… I know with recent events you wouldn’t feel the same way but… goddesses we love you like family, Link.”

Tears started welling up in Link’s eyes as he stared at Rusl in shock. Rusl gasped and took a step back, not expecting that reaction.

“I-I’m sorry Link, I didn’t– I didn’t mean to upset you I–”

“You really think that?”

Link’s voice was soft and it wavered as his hands clung to each other. He looked like he was scared to move, but the way he shifted his feet made it look like he wanted to. Rusl sighed.

“Of course I do. I’ve always thought it. That’s why I wanted to teach you sword fighting and why Uli invited you to our dinners and… why we want you to be there when our daughter is born,” Rusl turned away. “Link, me and Uli want you to be apart of our family. Of course it’s all about how you feel, I don’t want to put any pressure on you but–”

Rusl was interrupted as Link ran to him, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“I always wanted to be a part of a family,” Link cried, burying his face in Rusl’s neck. Rusl quickly wrapped his arms around his boy despite wanting to keep his distance. They stood there for a moment as Link cried, with Rusl shedding a few tears as well. Midna finally came back and watched the two with a smirk, her head tilted in a teasing manner.

“Oh, so glad you two could make up. Now come on, we got a statue to find!” Midna started tugging at Link’s shirt and he quickly wiped his tears away, stepping back from Rusl. Midna’s smirk softened a bit and she wiped away a lingering tear before floating near a door, watching them from a distance. Link’s face turned a little red and he scratched the back of his head.

“Um… is it… is it ok if I call you ‘pa’ now?” He asked, looking away bashfully. Rusl only chuckled and gave him one more side hug.

“You can call me whatever you’d like, my son.”

Link beamed and rested his head on his shoulder before jogging to where Midna was, despite Rusl cringing at his injured leg. He couldn’t help but laugh at Midna’s scolding, figuring that she could be trusted with Link’s injury. She did punch him in the face in order to protect Link. Rusl felt much better about the injury though. Knowing that Link didn’t at least hate him was relieving, but the fact that Link still cared deeply for him and the rest of the family was truly heartwarming. Though, the memory of Link’s fear filled eyes, his fear of being perceived as a monster, his screams of pain, Rusl never wanted to see him like that ever again. He vowed to himself that Link would feel safe around him, and that he’d never hurt him in anyway, whether it be unwilling or willing.

[denkies]

I remember being so distraught when we thought Hirotsu and Gin died, and then when it's revealed that Tachihara was the perpetrator, i was literally like "nvm theyre fine. That's his family, he wouldn't kill them no matter what" and i was right.

[stan-joe]

hey link click fans just to make your day worse I'm pretty sure the entire last few episodes happened on lu guang's birthday

[rainymoodlet]

“best hug ever” did you mean best animation ever 🌵

[justamedicalbat]

Today's dnd session was so cool I just got home and had to draw something about how it ended before going to sleep

[whumpetywhump]

Guardian - Ep. 2

[livingforthewhump]

Could you write a prompt with a whumpee with a leg injury (maybe a stabbing or something) who has to completely act like nothing’s wrong because they’re walking back home with their friend who is already suspicious and they can’t let them know (for some reason)? Sorry that this is uber-specific.

No 4. Dead on Your Feet

Hidden Injury | Waking Up Disoriented | Can’t Pass Out

The night air hit Whumpee’s face in a rush. Their eyes flickered close, soaking in the warmth for a single moment before they had to keep moving. Whumpee followed Caretaker into the street, sprinting to a nearby alley that they could only barely see through the tears blurring their vision.

Their leg was a cacophony of pain. Blood had seeped down a good half of their pant leg, blessedly invisible against the black fabric in the dark night. Each step felt like it sent shards of glass into their bone, as though the knife was still embedded there. It wasn’t, which created more problems, as now they were bleeding out a lot faster.

“Whumpee, hurry up,” Caretaker hissed. Whumpee winced at how strained their voice was, even in a whisper. Maybe now that they’d finally gotten the job done, Caretaker would get some rest.

“Sorry,” they breathed back, fighting against a limp as they reached their friend.

Caretaker glanced back at Whumper’s base where it loomed behind them, jaw twitching in the dim light the street lamps provided. “If no alarm has been raised by now, we probably have until that guard you knocked out wakes back up. Are you okay walking back home?”

Whumpee furrowed their eyebrows. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?” They took another step and briefly found themselves unable to breathe. Lovely.

“Just making sure,” Caretaker said slowly, eyes just a little too perceptive. Whumpee stayed on the inside as they moved into the street, hugging the buildings and the shadows that clung to them. Their ragged breaths seemed to give life to the walls towering on either side, making them tilt and sway, the ground swelling.

Their shoulder hit the brick wall hard.

Caretaker turned towards them, face shadowed in the hazy streetlight. “Whumpee?”

Whumpee screwed their eyes shut, using the wall to push themself back upright. “Yeah. I’m good. Just tired, I guess.”

They didn’t get a response from that, only Caretaker watching them, a silhouette in the dark that Whumpee would give up everything for. Their leg was a dead weight beneath them now, heavy like lead and filled with glass that bit deep into their skin, their muscle, their bones, with each hesitant movement. Whumpee locked their knee when putting weight on it (wouldn’t want to be caught limping, would they?).

The world was still spinning. Whumpee leaned their head back and looked at the sky for a moment to try and disguise it, to hide the tears building in their eyes as sure as the headache embedded in their skull. “The sky is beautiful tonight,” they whispered. Not that they could see it.

Caretaker let out a small breath. “Yes, it is.” Their tone was softer now, and something gentle stirred in Whumpee’s chest.

“We should get home before Whumper wakes up,” Whumpee continued in that same soft tone. “You need sleep.”

“Is that honestly what you’re worried about right now?” Caretaker snorted, but there was no malice behind it. “You look exhausted yourself. But we deserve to celebrate tonight.”

Whumpee’s tears receded and they dropped their head back down. Their throat burned with the effort when they spoke. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Caretaker deserved to have a night of celebration more than anyone else. Whumpee wouldn’t take that away from them for the world. They walked on in silence, Whumpee’s hands burrowed deep in their pockets. Their fists were clenched against the pain, but beyond that, their extremities were getting very, very cold. They were almost surprised there wasn’t ice crusting along their fingertips, despite the warm night. Best to just keep moving.

Their vision was shifting in and out of focus, flashes of black coming in when they were certain they hadn’t blinked. They were shaking from the effort of keeping their leg moving, now. Their muscles were growing stiff around the weeping wound. Still, they kept their back straight. They kept their knees locked. Their breaths grew more and more labored, burning their lungs, but their breaths were there.

Then their leg buckled underneath them, and none of it mattered.

The world swung back into place slowly above them, circling and circling like water going down the drain, long after Whumpee had gone still. A muffled ringing filled their head. A noise was lingering beneath that, thick and soft like whoever it was was yelling through a mattress.

Why did it all hurt so much?

A face appeared right above them, blocking out the golden streetlights. Whumpee stared blankly. They were terrible at reading lips, and for some reason Caretaker was just mouthing words. Or—no, they were speaking. Whumpee just couldn’t hear them.

After a moment, Caretaker seemed to realize this. Their face was creased deeply in worry, and Whumpee felt a spear of guilt thrust into them at the realization that that was their fault.

“‘m sorry,” they forced out. Caretaker froze. Their expression changed, tightening. When they spoke again, it was very deliberate, so that Whumpee could make out what they were saying.

“Can you hear me?” The lips said. Whumpee shook their head, closing their eyes as the world dipped around them. Caretaker waited until they were looking again. “Where are you hurt?”

Whumpee hesitated, tears rising to their eyes again. They didn’t want Caretaker to have to deal with it.

Something like anger swelled in Caretaker’s eyes. They grabbed onto Whumpee’s chin, forcing their gazes to meet. The intensity of Caretaker’s expression cowed them, and one of their shaking hands reached down towards their leg, then slumped down in defeat.

Instantly Caretaker was down beside it, ripping away the soaked pant leg. Whumpee was pretty sure they screamed as it came away from the wound. They didn’t have time to think about it, though, because they promptly passed out.

When Whumpee woke up, their hands were warm, and their clothes were dry. It took them a moment to process anything else.

Slowly, they opened their eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. They didn’t remember going to bed.

“You’re awake,” a strained voice said. Whumpee sat up, wincing at a pain in their leg. Caretaker was sitting at their bedside, face like stone and eyes red and bloodshot.

Another sleepless night on their part. Whumpee could have drowned in their guilt. Their hands felt out the lump in the covers where their bandages were.

“I passed out,” they remembered. Their voice was weak.

Caretaker took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“I don’t—” they started, then deflated under Caretaker’s hard eyes. “I thought I could make it.”

“Clearly.”

“I’m sorry.”

“…I don’t understand.” Caretaker crossed their arms over their chest. They hadn’t accepted Whumpee’s apology. Whumpee waited for them to continue. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Whumpee’s eyes dropped. “I. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’m worried now, Whumpee.” Their voice was sharp as a dagger. Something dark flared across Caretaker’s face, receding just as quickly. Whumpee knew it was still there. They just nodded, morose.

A thin silence stretched between them. Whumpee’s head started pounding, and they leaned back against their pillows.

“I went for a walk this morning,” Caretaker said suddenly. “When you were still asleep. I was tired of sitting here.” They swallowed, brows lowering over their eyes. “You left a trail of blood last night, did you know that? I could follow your footprints all the way back to Whumper’s. And last night I didn’t even notice.” Their voice broke off suddenly, and for the first time Whumpee noticed tears in their eyes. “Why didn’t I notice?”

Whumpee hugged themself. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s not my fault that you decided to just ignore your stab wound. It is my fault that I noticed something was wrong and I didn’t do anything until you were bleeding out on the ground.” Caretaker’s voice was raised now, and they cut themself off with a grimace. Their voice was soft the next time they spoke, but still shimmering with anger. “Were you going to tell me?”

“Caretaker…”

“No. Answer the question, Whumpee.”

“…no.”

All the air seemed to leave Caretaker at once. They slumped over, elbows resting on their knees and face in their hands. Whumpee had never seen them brought so low.

“Why?” they asked again, and it sounded almost begging.

Whumpee didn’t have an answer. They just sat there battling back their tears, because Caretaker deserved to feel upset without Whumpee stealing the moment again.

When Caretaker lifted their head up, their eyes were wet. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I am going to go get you some food and medicine. When I get back, I am going to be calm, and you are going to have some damn good answers for me.”

They stood up while Whumpee cringed and nodded. As they got to the door, Caretaker looked back.

“And Whumpee?”

“Mm.”

“Never let this happen again.”

—

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[whumpacabra]

Day 19: “Please don’t.”

Scar reveal, knife wound [minor], minor wound treatment, alcohol use, blood, implied past violence, bar fight mention

[Directly follows Barfight]

Drifting down from the adrenaline high, brushing off the praise and thanks of the other bar patrons…it was nostalgic. Warm. Familiar.

(He had done this before, during the Before.)

“I think you got us free drinks for the rest of the night East.” Tierney laughed, hand clapping East’s back. Alister smiled at him, gratitude in his eyes.

“Next time save some ass kicking for the rest of us, eh?“

East rolled his eyes, feeling Tierney’s hand slide away from his back.

“Next time I’m sure there’ll be more than one prick so you’ll have your pick - ”

“East you’re bleeding.” Tierney’s whisper was urgent, even if the smear of blood on his palm was relatively unconcerning. East knew the fucker’s knife had cut his jacket, he hadn’t felt it break the skin.

“I didn’t notice - probably just a scratch.”

“We should clean it up though.” Alister had him fixed with a concerned expression. “I don’t think Nate will take kindly to knowing we got into a bar fight. Best to hide the evidence best we can.”

“I’m fine, really - ” There was no arguing with both housemates. East swallowed back the rest of his drink and sighed. “Fine. It probably doesn’t even need stitches.”

The three made their way to the bar restroom, rowdy patrons slapping East’s arm and shouting thanks and congratulations to him as he passed. The repeated, unexpected, unwanted contact was making him sick. Safe behind the closed bathroom door, the reality of what he had agreed to sunk in. He glanced at his reflection in the dirty mirror, skin pale and clammy. East turned suddenly and grabbed Tierney and Alister by the shoulder.

“Don’t ask. Please don’t.” He hoped his reaching out, his purposeful eye contact drove home how serious he was. He hadn’t thought about his back - what was there - for months now.

And here he was letting another man’s hands touch his bared scars and bloodied skin.

(Jackson would be proud.)

(Smith would be jealous.)

Tierney stared up at him with wide shining eyes, glancing to Alister who nodded grimly, brow furrowed in cautious concern.

“We won’t say a word. And we’ll be quick - I know you don’t like touch.”

“Unless you’re knocking another guy’s lights out.” Tierney muttered with a weak chuckle, but East let a smile soften his own face to show that he appreciated the joke. He took a deep breath, removing his hands from their shoulders and nodded to Tierney.

“Get me some vodka. Let’s get this over with.” He turned back to the mirror, shrugging off his jacket - the rip in the back was almost invisible, and any blood blended too well with the dark material to see. He slowly unbuttoned his undershirt, hands growing shaky.

(He took comfort in the fact that the blood on his knuckles wasn’t his own.)

East glanced up at the mirror, the scars on his chest so small and faded with age he could hardly outline the patch of skin that had been replaced. He looked to Alister’s face, eyes gentle and encouraging. Safe.

He took a slow inhale as he pulled his shirt back off his shoulders, and exhaled as he shirked the sleeves from his arms. He grimaced down at the pale green plaid patterned shirt - blood stained a palm sized blotch just below the back of the collar. East didn’t look up to see Alister’s reaction. He didn’t need to.

His hearing caught the stutter of breath, the almost imperceptible shift in breathing before someone spoke. And Tierney’s pattering footsteps, before the door opened and closed.

“I got the - ” He cut himself off, swallowing his words. East took another measured breath, running the tap and holding his bloodstained shirt under the cold water.

“Could use that drink, Tierney.” He managed to mutter, listening to the footsteps approach and seeing the shimmering shot glass out of the corner of his eye.

“You good?”

“Yes. Hurry up.“ He didn’t mean to snap, to take the shot glass from Tierney so violently and swig it back to feel the liquor burn down his throat. A half decent distraction from the hands touching his back.

“It’s not too deep - you, you’re right it probably won’t need stitches.” Tierney was making a point of not looking at East’s back while Alister worked, practically jittering with nervous energy. Alister hummed to confirm Tierney’s observation.

“Just gonna clean it up and get a bandage over it. Don’t want Nate worrying where this blood came from.”

East focused on the gradually fading bloodstain on the shirt in his hands, red washed pink by the icy water. He would have to volunteer for wash duty this weekend - the last thing he needed was getting in trouble with Nate for getting into a bar fight, even if he didn’t start it. He turned off the tap, wringing blood tinged water from his shirt and straightening up as Alister finished.

(The fingers weren’t poking, weren’t prodding - so much like the featherlight touch of Jackson ghosting over those jagged letters when they bled fresh and raw.)

“All set?” He asked, rolling his shoulders to feel the itchy plastic and adhesive of a fresh bandage just below his neck.

“Yup. You really gonna wear a wet shirt for the walk home?”

East struggled back into his button down, the damp fabric fighting him. He responded to Tierney’s question with a shrug and a nod.

“It’s pissing down anyway out there. We’ll all be soaked to the bone before we get home.”

[Concurrent to The Mademoiselle]

(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)

[catominor]

old men night tonight i suppose.

[hiragihouse]

gege needs to retire his character death note and hand it off to asagiri i swear 😭

[bitegore]

Oh okay so i'm evil evil today huh