[I adore your injury prompts and them listed them together had me thinking of the various occasions of a timeloop... so here's a fill for each of them, with one for setup. Warning: this is a wee bit gory and there's character death, over and over...]
Time and Torment
Any other day Goodsir might have managed better, but cursed to relive Carnivale…
No matter what he does or who he pleads with or what course he alters in the day’s events, the destruction is the same, inescapable, and never any less haunting than when he last witnessed it, either from within the flame-licked cocoon of the tents or the detached safety of the quarterdeck.
This does not, however, dissuade Goodsir from trying to break his curse, because if he saves one man, changes one thing and gets it to stick, he might slip the noose of this cruel purgatory—for perhaps he died at Carnivale too, another charred body added to the expedition’s growing list of dead.
-
He’s tried convincing McDonald not to attend Carnivale (once even feigning illness to get him to stay away) but it never succeeds—there’s always something that draws him to the place, so McDonald always dies.
This time, Goodsir’s protestations work; McDonald survives the night without so much as a scratch on him.
The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.
-
Hickey’s knife drives through waxed canvas, and Alexander cries out; his palm, nicked by the blade, cautions him to move aside before it splits an opening, a writhing pile of bodies spilling through like entrails from a quartered abdomen.
Goodsir pulls the doctor aside, checking him anxiously for additional lacerations, but it is this small one alone, easily mended.
The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.
-
Goodsir doesn’t get where he needs to in time and finds McDonald sat upon an upturned crate, eyes wide with horror as Carnivale burns. He kneels before him wordlessly, searches to find his stomach bloody from a puncture wound he barely seems to notice.
The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.
-
Tonight is the last time Goodsir will try to spare McDonald his fate—he does not appear to be an integral cog in the workings of this pernicious device of time and torment.
When the poor man dies in his arms, his final breath painting the air, Goodsir finds his resolve: he will attempt to save the woman next.
The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.
Time and Torment (The Terror, Goodsir & McDonald) Groundhog Day AU
Time and Torment
Any other day Goodsir might have managed better, but cursed to relive Carnivale…
No matter what he does or who he pleads with or what course he alters in the day’s events, the destruction is the same, inescapable, and never any less haunting than when he last witnessed it, either from within the flame-licked cocoon of the tents or the detached safety of the quarterdeck.
This does not, however, dissuade Goodsir from trying to break his curse, because if he saves one man, changes one thing and gets it to stick, he might slip the noose of this cruel purgatory—for perhaps he died at Carnivale too, another charred body added to the expedition’s growing list of dead.
-
He’s tried convincing McDonald not to attend Carnivale (once even feigning illness to get him to stay away) but it never succeeds—there’s always something that draws him to the place, so McDonald always dies.
This time, Goodsir’s protestations work; McDonald survives the night without so much as a scratch on him.
The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.
-
Hickey’s knife drives through waxed canvas, and Alexander cries out; his palm, nicked by the blade, cautions him to move aside before it splits an opening, a writhing pile of bodies spilling through like entrails from a quartered abdomen.
Goodsir pulls the doctor aside, checking him anxiously for additional lacerations, but it is this small one alone, easily mended.
The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.
-
Goodsir doesn’t get where he needs to in time and finds McDonald sat upon an upturned crate, eyes wide with horror as Carnivale burns. He kneels before him wordlessly, searches to find his stomach bloody from a puncture wound he barely seems to notice.
The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.
-
Tonight is the last time Goodsir will try to spare McDonald his fate—he does not appear to be an integral cog in the workings of this pernicious device of time and torment.
When the poor man dies in his arms, his final breath painting the air, Goodsir finds his resolve: he will attempt to save the woman next.
The charcoal smear of smoke, visible later on the featureless horizon, vanishes, and the day begins anew.