#Minor Injury

[verawhisk]

pet me, damn it!

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READ AHEAD ON MY KOFI!

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oboy violents!!!!

[macaronichewtoyz]

Shine, Dom, Muerteva, and Alaunus as revenge for @faaarawayyy ;3!!!

[pricklenettle]

Parent's Ghost

This is my fic for @ecto-implosion! I wrote it based on the art by the talented @jackalspine

The little ectoblobs are made of the emotional residue of the creatures around them like dust bunnies. The Fenton house is full of both ectoplasm and emotional residue. So what happens after Danny is injured by his parents?

WC: 4,795

AO3 link

_______

Danny walked along the power lines. Not on the ground, that was for people who liked getting doused with rain water everytime a car came by. It was way cooler strolling along, way above the headlights cutting blindly through the splintery drizzle that made this evening’s twilight so dim. Danny adroitly floated around a buzzing insulator that snapped testilly at every rain drop. He continued his stroll, placing his feet just a finger’s breadth above the black wire.

He supposed he should be grateful for the drizzle, and the quiet evening that was proof of the apparent absence of ghosts to hunt. But really, he was bored. Bored, and his brain was starting to prickle with dread as calculus equations and handwritten paragraphs echoed sinisterly in the back of his mind. The image of the homework he’d left piled in his room loomed closer over the horizon. On top was the English paper Lancer had assigned him. 

He’d written two sentences for the paper’s intro before flying out his window to patrol. So far it was disappointing him. He’d found a wisp of a ghost bear rooting around in the Nasty Burger dumpster and an old granny who wasn’t bothering anybody except the park’s population of stray cats. It was getting uncomfortably more obvious that tonight his biggest responsibility was going to be his homework. 

Danny wrinkled his face. Figures, the one night he wanted a distraction, Amity decided it was time for peaceful quiet. 

Even though he knew he should be heading home he just kept walking along the wire. He folded his arms behind his head and kept an eye upward, hoping the clouds would break up. 

It was just on the edge of too cold. The drops that hit his shoulders and head were like needling icy fingers, prodding him to go home and take cover inside six warm walls. Leave the world to the rain to whom it belonged. He stuck his tongue out at the sky and pulled his phone out of his belt pouch. 

The cracked screen pulsed unhappily at him with aberrant colors. He tilted it forward, trying to shield it from the beads of water that rolled off it with bent light. There were no new messages from Sam, but Tucker was asking about that English assignment. Danny groaned and scrubbed his fingers through his hair in frustration. He knew what he should be doing, the universe knew what he should be doing, he’d cut off his toes and feed it to the resident ghost cats before he wrote one more word tonight. He locked his ankles together, drifting a little higher over the powerline while he texted back. 

“Hey, Ghost scum!” was his only warning before something exploded off to his left. The acid green light of ecto-based ammunition froze the rain in the air in a single flash. It competed and instantly won against the dim sky, lighting up the undersides of tree limbs and throwing everything into a sharp lime light. 

Danny automatically threw his hands over his face, then flew up, searching the ground through the spots in his vision for the interrupters. 

“Damn it, Mads, I missed him again,” came the only slightly quieter voice. Danny’s grin spread sharply when he spotted his mom and dad crouched behind some bushes. 

He floated tauntingly lower. “Hey, I was walking there. How’d you like it if I threw missiles at you when you were on an evening stroll?”

“I’d say you were showing off your true nature, ghost,” Jack cried, pointing a finger at him. The shiny black rubber of his gloves reflected the yellow globe of the streetlight that hummed, lonely in the rain. The single illumination of the deserted road. “An evil, mindless blob of ectoplasmic residue that’s grown too comfortable in the mortal plane.”

Danny hovered in place, daring on whatever happened next. “At least I’d be able to hit you, in that way I am pretty good.”

Maddy was scrambling to quickly reload the gun. It looked like pretty heavy artillery. It might be strong enough to blow him to pieces if the spots still dancing in his vision were anything to believe. Of course, it would have to hit him first. Lucky for him, it looked like it was going to take Maddy a while, and Danny had plenty of time to antagonize his parents. He floated lower, leaning back in the air and crossing his legs. “Don’t you two have somewhere better to be than out in the rain following an innocent ghost around?”

“No such thing,” Maddy hissed, still fighting over the guts of the big gun. 

“Menace to society you mean,” Jack shouted up.

Danny stuck his tongue out at them and raised his arms with limp wrists like the classic ghost. “Boo.”

“You won’t be saying boo when my wife reloads and splatters your ectoplasm– er,”

Maddy threw down her new rocket launcher in disgust. 

“No good, Mad’s?”

Danny looked on in utter delight as Maddie began riffling through the duffle bag at their feet. “I can’t get the damn thing to work with this rain.”

“My bad, Honey. In mark two, I’ll prioritize simplification and ease of use.”

“You can’t have everything in one gun, dear, your design is wonderful just as it is. Only a little tweaking I think.” Danny gagged overtop of them before they could get really sappy. They whipped back around, on guard again. Maddy stood up from the duffle bag this time with the net gun in her hands. She braced herself to fire. 

Danny sighed and shook his head. “You folks need to figure out when it’s time to pack up and save it for another day.” He accumulated a ball of ectoplasm between his fingers and lobbed it at Maddie’s feet. She dived to the side and came up on her knees. They locked eyes and she pulled the trigger. The net burst out with a puff of gunpowder. 

Danny flew to the side, but a corner of the net collided with his leg. The cords snapped around his boot, quickly tangling when he tried to shake it off. He grumbled, annoyed. But still, no problem. The cord was treated to be anti ghost so he couldn’t phase out, but he had a lot of energy humming in his chest that had gone unused all day long. He smiled grimly. So, they wanted to catch a ghost? This was going to be fun. He twisted around and propelled himself up above the treeline. Maddy yelped beneath him. He glanced back to see her feet were dragging in the ground and she was barely holding onto the gun over her head. He put on another burst of speed and her toes lifted off the ground. 

Jack leaped to grab it from her. He braced his feet and grunted with the strain of holding Danny earthward. She let him have it and ran back for the duffel bag. Danny wasn’t quite strong enough to lift Jack off his feet, not without phasing the big man partly out of the physical world. Danny soon found himself fighting just to stay in the air. 

Jack clung onto the rope doggedly. They both seemed pretty determined today to reel him in. No matter how he flew Jack was stubbornly holding on. As though he actually believed he and the phase-proof line could reassert the laws of gravity that Danny had gotten so used to ignoring. 

He was starting to feel a little too much like a toy kite for his liking. Careful to keep the line taut, he bent over his leg to tug at the tangled cords of the net. He was just starting to make progress, a pile of freed loops dropping to hang form his boot, when he heard a pop from below. An instant later a bolt screamed through his arm. He recoiled, grabbing his arm tight. 

The ectoplasm of his arm had been sheered away and hollowed out like a stick of butter in a microwave. Beads of ectoplasm rolled over the creases of his white gloves. 

Looked like Maddy had finally got the gun to work again.

“Hey,” he yelled down. “You missed my vital organs. For all the time you spend hunting me, I’d expect you’d at least be good at it!” He aimed down along the perfectly straight line drawn between him and his dad. As perfect as a math equation, from point a to point b. He didn’t even have to aim. 

Jack dropped backward, electric green smoldering in his orange jumpsuit. Danny buoyed up into the air, cord and gun and all. He would have gotten away then, and he was already thinking about what in hell he was going to write for his damned English paper. 

Maddy dropped the gun and leaped over Jack. She jumped for the cord before it could get away from her. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun, jerking Danny back down. She’d pulled something out of her jumpsuit. Danny saw the flash of the Fenton Ghost Taser™ an instant before she pressed it against the taut cord. 

Danny cried out. His body instantly seized up, all his muscles vibrating, making his teeth chatter together. The searing pain that traced the path of the electricity came as a secondary thunder clap. He dropped out of the air. 

He hit the first branches like a second shock. Thousands of tiny twigs crackled under his descent. As he traveled lower he hit branches that bent, then broke. He caught a glimpse of the ground. All scattered with brown, lance shaped leaves. Then he hit.

***

“Ow,” he groaned, pushing himself up. He batted bits of dead leaves out of his hair and suit, making sure he was all still there. He felt like his parents had hit him with the earth like a wrecking ball. He looked up, staggering a little with the tilt in perspective, up through the hole he’d smashed through the perfectly nice canopy the tree had been working on for who knew how long. Maybe he’d been the wrecking ball. 

He had to sit down a moment, his entire body felt burned and achy from the taser. He fished one spikey piece of branch out of the side of his boot. He’d taken bigger hits and farther falls, but when he couldn’t catch himself the stupid part of him still expected to die everytime. He looked up again, ignoring the ringing in his head. He’d fallen into a damn thick patch of alders and bushes— honestly amazing he’d found any flat hard ground to hit at all.

The phase-proof cord— one end still tangled around his leg, wandered off into the underbrush. He could hear his parents thrashing around in the distance. 

Danny quickly shook off his distraction and jammed his fingers into the knotted mess around his leg. He worked and pulled at the strands, brow furrowed into determined concentration. If he turned human he could slip out in an instant, but he didn’t want to risk one of his parents spotting it through the bushes. He kept glancing up to check how close they’d gotten before returning to the net. Of all the things, why did he not keep a knife on him? His parents had made a ghost thermos and laser lipstick. Why not a Fenton Knife™?

Their crashing was getting closer. He stubbornly kept his head down, focused on his scrambling fingers and ignoring the loud sounds of Jack and Maddy following the anti-ghost cord right to him. He just needed to figure out where it had gotten tangled. A careless movement reminded him of the hole seared into his arm. Oh, ow. He’d almost forgotten about that. 

There, he’d found an edge. He freed it from a few misplaced cords, then twisted it, wrapped it back, passed it under his leg, and finally he could pull his leg free. He kicked the limp coil of net away and climbed to his feet. He could see patches of orange jumpsuit through the trees now. He gritted his teeth, pushing down the temper he could feel rearing up. They didn’t know— no. They didn’t care. He’d turned into a ghost under their noses, in their own workshop, and they’d never even noticed. 

He tested his arm with a hand. He still could barely feel it but he could already tell it was going to hurt when he got home and slipped back into his human skin. He winced when his fingers came away green. 

Danny stepped up into the air, flickering out of the visible spectrum.

***

The drizzle was still hesitant to turn into an actual rain when Danny floated outside his home. The neon sign buzzed faintly, briefly illuminating the drops that fell from the sky green, as though it was raining ectoplasm. 

Carefully, Danny pulled open his window and slipped inside. He let go of his invisibility and dropped heavily to the floor. A blanket he’d kicked off the bed bunched uncomfortably under his back and elbow, and his boot was chewing up the pages of a book he’d left open in the middle of the room, but right now he didn’t care. 

He stared up at his ceiling, at the sickly plastic of his glow-in-the-dark stars. It wasn’t dark enough yet for them to light up. The drizzle patted softly against the roof, like the Fenton building was a strange and unusual cat it didn’t quite know how to stroke. His arm ached dreadfully but he ignored it. A glancing thought reminded him of the English paper he’d sworn he’d finish tonight. He turned over, squeezing his fingers into his torn up arm. He scowled into the dark shadows that clung to the floor of his room. He’d do it tomorrow.

***

He came out of a dull fog with something nudging his leg. He hissed and kicked at it, then groaned. He was so sore from the electricity that had pulsed  through ever fiber of muscle he owned. He cracked an eye open. It was dark. Rain shadows mottled the dim light from the neon sign outside that the window cast onto the floor beside him. The constant buzz of rain on the roof made him realize he was still cold and damp. He curled tighter into himself, closing his eyes to try and go back to sleep. Well, it had decided to rain after all.

Another nudge against his leg made him open his eyes in annoyance. It was a tiny blob ghost, apparently small enough to get past his parents' sensors and definitely too small to cause real trouble. It sat in a ball by his foot, gazing him down with softly glowing red eyes. 

“Shoo,” he said crossly. “I’m trying to sleep.”

Instead of going away, it drifted up closer to his face. It was certainly brazen in the face of a much stronger ghost. Danny drew himself up into a half crouch, unwilling to let even this mindless blob catch him down and out. “You should get going, you don’t want my parents to see you hanging around.” 

Instead of listening to him, the blob rolled up to his hand. The surface of its ectoplasm rippled and then it plopped up a wet wad of bandages. 

“Eeew, that’s gross.” But it did make Danny think to look at his injured arm. He grimaced. That gun was seriously concentrated. His arm was still hollowed out and dripping with green slime. He’d been slowly leaking as he slept and it had left a dark, wet spot on his twisted blanket that gleamed dully in the low light. “Shoot.”

The small blob made a tiny murmuring chirp. He looked back down at it and it nudged his hand. He’d never met a blob ghost so friendly. The ones he occasionally spotted in the house seemed peaceable enough, but he never let them get close. They were like fruit flies, they just appeared where their sustenance was. Normally they coalesced after fights, drawn to the spilled ectoplasm like ramora to sharks. Or maybe they were created by it. Who knows. They were skittish, unfriendly, and prone to hurting pets. He didn’t really know how to react to this one trying to cuddle up to him.

When its insistent bumps got no reaction, the blob instead snagged his sleeve. It bobbed up in the air, tugging him to stand up. 

Suddenly there was another blob. It floated out from under his bed and tugged on his pant leg, seemingly for the same purpose. 

Bemused, Danny stood. The room tilted. For a moment he couldn’t move except to sway on his legs. He almost jumped out of his skin when a third blob ghost appeared over his shoulder. It settled as solidly as a blob could on its perch and hummed and chirped in his ear. Its firm press reminded him of when his dad would clap him on the shoulder, his big warm hand a steadying weight. 

The blob ghosts were still tugging on his clothes. So, Danny obeyed. He tottered tiredly toward his bed. He made the bed every day, but the blob ghosts must have been rifling through his room before they woke him up because all the blankets were half off. 

Irritated, he fell into bed. He sighed as his pillow recieved his head with a puff. His ssense of gravity became even looser as the pillow cradled his skull. He might have been floating as unmoored as he felt. How he’d missed it. Did it seem poofier today or was he just really happy to be in bed?

He shivered at the cold sheets and shifted to curl into a ball, but the blob ghost was still holding onto his sleeve. He lifted his head to show a threatening row of teeth, but he didn’t have the energy for much else. He flared the energy of his core. It had never failed to to send blobs darting away like frightened mice. These ones didn’t.

The big one that had sat on his shoulder floated through the air, a long trail of white bandage fluttering beneath it like a tail. Danny was starting to be amused. At least this bandage wasn’t already sopping with ectoplasm. 

The big blob hovered over the bed, edging the bandage closer to his wound. He didn’t know how to tell these things that you were supposed to disinfect stuff first. Whatever, at least it would stop him from soaking the mattress. He could deal with things properly tomorrow. In the morning when he felt less like a dead boy barely filling in his human skin. Yeah, whenever that happened. 

***

He’d figured out how to scare them off the night he’d been following the trail of a giant, mutant ghost snake. He’d been chasing it for most of the night and the snake had left it’s mark on him and a large chunk of Amity Park. He’d been pretty sure it was dead but he didn’t want that one coming back to life to bite him in the ass. Again. 

He’d found it in an old alleyway, its coils half hidden by mounds of trash. The huge snake had stopped moving. It was losing clarity fast and its scales were melting into the broken asphalt. The ambient ectoplasm its blood had added to the air made a glowing haze over the alley. It was also swarming with blobs. Like busy ants they flocked from one wound to the next, soaking it in like sugar water. 

Danny had taken a step back, just like anyone who turned over a log and found it crawling with maggots. Danny blinked at them, squinting with one eye crusted half shut from the fight and the other rubbery with exhaustion. The way the blobs swarmed over the ghost’s corpse before it had even bled away out of their physical world made shivers prickle all over his shoulders. Slowly he backed away. He’d confirmed the snake wouldn’t be a threat anymore, his job was done. 

He’d intended to leave the scene and creep away to finally go home, when his leg gave out and he slipped on the pavement. all the milling pairs of red eyes snapped to him. They hissed like a multi-tongued hoard of snakes. Automatically, Danny flared his core. He’d gritted his teeth, staring them down, thinking very hard about how much bigger and fiercer he was, how easy to squish them and fight them off his prey. The hand in front of him gained an unnatural edge, like a glowing afterimage. All the ghosts immediately fled, abandoning their immense feast.

After that he’d never had much trouble with the smaller ghosts. It didn’t make sense that these ones weren’t bothered about it. 

Danny took the bandage from the bigger blob and pinched it to his arm, intending to wind it around with his teeth. Instead, the three blob ghosts seized it from him, letting him hold it in place while they passed it back and forth around his arm. Danny didn’t have to do anything before he was looking at a tidily wrapped bandage. He wasn’t even seeping through them yet. 

“Thank you.” Uneasily he settled back onto his pillow, warily watching the blobs flit around like alien lights through half closed eyes.

The blob ghosts drifted like flotsam, their cool glow sliding over his freezing sheets to the glistening wood of his bedpost, then back again to bead on the dark wetness he’d spread on the floor and under his dry eyelids. His sight blurred and he realized again how tired he was, but now he’d been roused twice. He couldn’t relax with the huge, cold night huddling in the space of his bedroom. Especially not with the strange ghosts, mindless and helpful though they seemed to be.

The blobs didn’t seem to realize. They briefly floated down out of sight then reappeared holding up a blanket between them. As gently and softly as could be, they drew it over him. Two of them churred soothingly and patted the blanket around him as though they were trying to tuck him in. Danny wanted to laugh but instead he found himself sinking into his pillow, eyes blinking shut. After all, why shoo them off, he could defend himself from a couple of blobs. He yawned broadly. The third blob ghost drifted down to alight on his forehead, unexpectedly similar to the softness of a cool hand against a fever. Danny sighed and let it stay there. He already felt warmth spreading over him from the blankets, he was afraid to move or it would go away. 

The other blob ghosts settled onto his blanket around his legs. Their light dimmed as though they were going to sleep. He finally relaxed enough for the transformation to slip over his head and down his legs. He shivered furiously for a moment, like the first steps out of a cold pool where he’d acclimated to a chill sort-of-comfort and then into biting wind. Before long real warmth stole over him. 

The blob resting on his forehead began to hum. Even through his sleep drenched brain he recognised it. It was a silly song that his parents had liked and turned into a lullaby, just like every parent does. Whenever this one came onto the radio Danny was jolted back to when he was a kid and soothed into a warm bed on a close and sleepy evening. When he was a kid he’d practically vibrated with too much energy. When he couldn’t sleep Maddie would hold him wrapped in a blanket in her lap, singing that song and rocking back and forth, sometimes flubbing and making up her own words.

They needed the lullaby a lot when he was a kid. Some nights it was the only way to keep him in bed. It was a song for a too long road trip when he’d sent the entire car into seismic shifts from his carseat while the windshield wipers worked madly and Jazz was yelling at him for kicking her seat. The song was for a hospital visit where the cold room and unfamiliar walls was more disturbing than the pain in his broken arm. In the past it had never failed to lull him to sleep.

Somehow he hadn’t heard it in a long time. He didn’t miss it, it was just one of those things you naturally left behind as time passed. He wasn’t a baby anymore and Maddie didn’t need to sing it to get him to shut up for five seconds. He didn’t even remember the funny words she’d made up for it. His eyes drifted closed as he tried to mumble them and somehow dredge them up from deep in his mind. He’d almost completely forgotten it. He wondered where this blob had picked it up.

All the wondering he could do ran away from him quickly. His consciousness spun out like a ball of yarn leading him to sleep. The tune dropped him back into those years of falling asleep with his mom’s cheek next to his and finally his brain stopped thinking and let him drift off into deep dreamless sleep.

***

Jack and Maddie came home in the stillness of the hour between night and morning. It had stopped raining but they were drenched and stuck all over with orange pineneedles and other forest detritus. They were tired and trudged heavily through the door, not wanting to wake anyone up. There were twigs and leaves in Jack’s hair and a spray of thorns caught in the weave of Maddie’s suit. She smiled working it free but there was no real mirth behind it. Just tiredness.

They’d found no ghost in their net. But they’d been so sure a ghost couldn’t escape it, and a hit from Maddie’s new gun, on top of a shock from the Fenton Taser™ without being seriously damaged and power drained. So they’d combed the area again. They’d found not a sign of the ghost. They supposed that they’d never know until the next dogfight if that one had survived or had dissolved into whatever aether the scraps of human consciousness were bound for. 

They dumped their tangled and scraped up gear in a pile. Neither of them said anything. Without a word they left it there and took the stairs. Jack looked at the back of his wife’s neck. He might not be good at reading people but he’d known her long enough. All these ghosts were fascinating, they’d never had more work. But the rest of Amity didn’t exactly agree with their glee. Some nights the sheer amount of ghostly activity was overwhelming. And they were strong enough to be actually capable of real property damage! Who knew what else. The sooner they could stuff these spooks back where they came from the better. But this wasn’t what was bothering Maddy. Jack knew the problem that was puzzling her now was Danny. It was frustrating. Life would be so much easier if people could just say what they were thinking.

If only he could figure out the problem. 

Again, without words, they stopped in front of Danny’s door. Dread was boiling in Maddie’s stomach, there’d been so many nights she’d known he’d snuck out. Some nights he just never came home. Jack’s large arm reached past her to press against the door. He eased it open with both hands, For once he payed special attention to not bump anything thoughtlessly. Danny’s room was dark, the only light inside came from the warm stripes that escaped from the hallway lamp around their legs and the dim stick on stars that littered the ceiling. It was messy, as usual. Leaves of homework were layered over his desk and books lay open all over the floor. Drifts of clothes made sedimentary layers in the corners of the room. Jack couldn’t help his well of fondness at the sight. Danny was a still form on the bed. Silent asleep, as he should be. 

Jack sniffed, was the ectoplasm smell stronger here? He glanced around briefly; bed, desk, floor— then shrugged. It was everywhere in the house. It was their fault really, always mixing work and family life.  

Jack looked down and realized neither of them had pushed one toe over the carpet line into his room. It was just as good as a wall. 

Maddie’s mouth worked as though she was chewing over a mouthful of words that needed to be said, no matter how silently. She finally whispered. “Good night, Danny.”

And then they left as carefully as they had come. 

[aziraphales-library]

Hello, thank you for all the work you're doing! You're truly incredible! I have read through pretty much all of the hurt/comfort and protective!crowley/aziraphale fic I could find and I was wondering if you had any recommendations where one of them is only slightly hurt (or anything that isn't full on whump) and the other gets really overprotective and/or takes care of them

(no worries if not!)

We really appreciate all the work and effort you put into this blog! Thank you, you are life saviours

Hi! Here are some minor hurt/non-whump hurt and protective fics for you...

Of Rosaries and Burnt Palms by midnightdragons (G)

"Guh, shit, fuck," Crowley swore, clearly attempting to miracle the burn away but to no avail. He looked up at Aziraphale, who was frozen in shock and dismay, and his golden eyes, for once uncovered by his sunglasses, were so — so distraught, so full of distress and pain and betrayal, and — and did he think there was a chance that Aziraphale — that the angel had —? Aziraphale wears a rosary round the bookshop, and does not think of the consequences.

Safe and Sound by AmyPound (T)

Aziraphale enjoys a refreshing walk home from a new Thai restaurant but faces confrontation. Luckily Crowley's protect Aziraphale sense is always working.

Watching Over You by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

Aziraphale is relaxing in Rome when he spots a disoriented Crowley. He saves the demon from nearly being run over by a cart, then realizes Crowley has been drugged. Worried, he takes his friend somewhere safe and watches over him.

Hell in a Handbasket by SaunterVaguelyDownward (T)

“I’m leaving, thanks for the wine.” Aziraphale blanched. “Crowley! Please. The last time we argued it almost led to the apocalypse and the time before that I didn’t see you for over one hundred years.” “And whose bloody fault were both of those?” he snapped. Aziraphale froze. “Mine, dear boy,” the angel replied simply and sincerely. He inhaled deeply, gathering himself. “Which is why I refuse to let it happen again.” His eyes were pleading, his expression serious as he reached out slowly and let his hand land gently on Crowley’s shoulder. The demon flinched and Aziraphale recoiled, his face filled with hurt. Crowley’s jaw clenched. “Well, maybe it’s my turn to be unreasonable.” In which the only way Crowley can be saved from a demonic curse is if his angel admits feelings of true love. But there's no way Aziraphale could ever possibly feel that way about Crowley...

This Time, The Princess Does the Rescuing by die_traumerei (E)

Crowley does not like horses. Horses do not like Crowley. But when Aziraphale's mount comes back without her long after she should have been home for a camping trip, there's no question of Crowley going out to find her and bringing her home. (In which Crowley rescues Aziraphale -- of course -- and brings her home. Featuring a lot of worried princess, a little bit of hurt, a ton of comfort, a touch of sick!fic and lots of conversation while they're both confined to bed. The same bed, needless to say.)

a moment's silence by viperinz (T)

Crowley rubs a hand down his face, sighing. “Then you know that you shouldn’t have done that.” “It was the only choice I had. If you got smitten—” Aziraphale swallows, feeling his back throb in pain. “You would have died right where you stood. I could not allow that.” Crowley’s mouth turns into a thin line, his fury radiating through the room. “So, what? It was better if it was you rather than me that took the hit?” “Yes!” Aziraphale exclaims, sitting up in bed. He winces as his back protests the movement, but he needs Crowley to understand. “You deserve better than what I was able to ever give you, and you need to help Muriel and the Messiah. If I ceased to exist, nothing would change the outcome of stopping all of this.” “No, you don’t get to say that.” Crowley walks up to the bed. “If you think I’ll ever stand to lose you again, then you’re bloody wrong. The outcome would be different because I wouldn’t have you, you daft thing.”

After everything is said and done, Aziraphale has to learn to adjust to life on Earth after seven years of being in Heaven. Luckily, Crowley is there to help him heal, and to give him the love that he feels he's lost.

- Mod D

[fruitcoops]

Mending

Prompt D5: “Bandaid” for the 7th (and final 🥺) day of @oknutzy-week-2024 . Kudos to @lumosinlove for the characters, and so much love to all of you for reading and writing and being wonderful <3 This week is always a highlight of my year!

TW for minor injury and blood (splinters)

“You are a total and complete disaster.”

“Just pull it out.” Logan’s gaze darted over, then immediately away. His throat bobbed like he was swallowing a heave. “Just get it out, get it out, get it out.”

Leo knew bemusement was probably not the right reaction to a lover in any sort of pain. Unfortunately for Logan, you had to be a special brand of crazy to be a goalie, and Leo’s sense of humor had always been a bit without regard for personal safety. “Would a popsicle make you feel better?”

He had also been getting splinters out of himself since he was old enough to hold tweezers, and here Logan was, at his grown age of 25, trembling like his name.

Logan snuck another peek and did a double-take when he saw Leo’s bitten-back smile. “Don’t make fun of me,” he complained, a little pale in the cheeks.

“I’m sorry, cher.” Leo shook his head, leveling his hand near Logan’s finger again. “Remind me how many fights you’ve been in?”

“You’re mean.”

“Forty-seven.”

“It’s different!”

“In three years,” Leo added.

“It’s not the same.” Logan’s voiced edged on a whine. “They’re not—inside me.”

Leo blinked up at him, sitting back on his heels. “I seem to remember you like it a whole lot when hockey players are inside you.”

The anxious pale of Logan’s face flushed red. “And see if you ever get to know that again,” he bit out.

Leo kept his opinions on that to himself. Something told him a firm, fact-based disagreement would not bode well for making Logan keep still while he worked. A tiny bead of blood welled up near the site of the wound; he smudged it away with a gentle pass of his paper towel. Logan’s flinch made his belly pang. “Sorry, love,” he murmured. “Almost there.”

“This is so embarrassing,” Logan muttered, eyes fixed in the opposite direction. The hair by his forehead and neck was damp with nervous sweat. Why he couldn’t reserve this fear for fighting two-ton behemoths on the ice, Leo would never understand.

“You’re doing great,” he offered helpfully.

Logan just scowled. “If you pull a needle out to help, I’ll scream.”

“Finn took this a lot better than you did.”

“Finn could get stabbed with a greatsword and say he’s fine—ow.”

Leo released Logan’s wrist at the first reflex-jerk and held the tweezers between them with a triumphant grin. “Got it!”

“—calisse de crisse—I fucking hope so!” Logan stuck his wounded fingertip into his mouth and squinted down between them. “Merde, that’s huge.”

Leo leveled him with a disbelieving look. “Want a bandaid?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’ll make me feel better.”

Logan stared at him for a few seconds, finger still in his mouth. “You just want to see me walking around with SpiderMan on my hand.”

Leo grinned. “Good doctors deserve compensation.”

“You made two million dollars last year,” Logan argued, already holding his hand out.

“Consider it overtime.” Leo shuffled through the small box he had dug from his mother’s linen closet just that morning, when Finn went jogging and decided walking barefoot on the dock was a great idea. He had, of course, immediately been stabbed in the foot by a nasty splinter. Logan had (of course) grabbed the exact same obviously-fraying spot five minutes ago while pushing himself to his feet.

He decided on a butterfly bandage, peeling the wax backing away while he held Logan’s finger still between the sides of his palms and placed the gauze down. The red looked nice against his sun-warm skin.

Leo looked up as he kissed the web-patterned top of Logan’s finger. “You were very brave.”

Unbearable softness narrowed into playful offense. “Your bedside manner needs work.”

[steviewashere]

Soothed

Rating: General CW: Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Minor Discussion of Bullying Tags: Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Hurt Eddie Munson, Injured Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Protective Steve Harrington, Worried Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, And Gets One

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is a warm hug."

💕—————💕

There was a knock at Steve’s front door.

Which is unusual to him. If somebody from the group—teenagers, adults, and preteens alike—then they’d use the spare key in the potted flower on the porch. Just barge right in, announce themself in the foyer, and let Steve find them first. They were told to be respectful, so that’s the least thing they can do.

But a knock? Unheard of. Steve pauses the movie he’s watching in the living room, stands from the couch, pops his back, and shuffles over to the front door. He turns the lock, twists the knob, and pulls the door from its jamb. On his porch: sopping wet, shivering, and down right miserable…is Eddie.

It’s late May, which means spring is in full swing. Which also means that there’s been forecasted rain. And, for some odd reason, Eddie hasn’t taken note of that. At least, that’s what Steve can gather.

Eddie’s hunched into himself. Hands gripping to his elbows. Dressed in a plain grey t-shirt and dark blue Levis, the same Reeboks he always wears. His hair, which was shaved back in March for surgery, is flat to his skull, frizzy from the rain. But, what scares Steve the most, is the dark purple bruise cupping a terribly swollen left eye. The eyeball itself is glazed over and bloodshot. His bottom lip is slightly puffy, sluggishly bleeding down his chin. And his nose, well Steve doesn’t think it’s broken, but it definitely is bloody, too. If the oddball patch below his right nostril has anything to say about it.

Steve moves to drag Eddie inside, but drops his hands when Eddie flinches away, nearly stumbling down to the concrete. He lets go of his elbows, which are now decorated with fine small crescents, and shields himself. There’s a couple smaller, red bruises decorating his wrists. As if somebody grabbed him. Steve fumes at the sight.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes, “why don’t you come inside?” He steps away from the door, letting it sit open and waiting. On shuffled, hesitant feet, Eddie comes in. His eyes dart around the room before they land back on Steve. Immediately, some of the tension and fear in his big brown eyes falls away. Instead, a layer of relief and gratitude seems to fill him. Enough that his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, Eds,” Steve can only coo.

Sniffling, mumbling, “They hurt me so bad,” Eddie says. He’s shivering. Whether that be from the cold or anxiety that’s surely swimming in Eddie’s stomach, Steve can’t tell. He inhales a wet gasp. Almost choking with it. “I just—I was trying to help this girl—And then they screamed at me and they—They hurt me,” he sobs. One of his hands flies up to his face, roughly wiping away the tears that try to travel down his cheeks. He presses too hard on his bruise and hisses.

“Okay, Eddie,” Steve mutters, “you’re safe here. It’s okay. They can’t get you here.” He doesn’t know who They is. But whoever they are, Steve knows he can rely on old reliable to do a good job. (Old reliable sits at the back of his closet, still crusted with blood, more nails than wood at this point). He hesitantly steps closer, palm out, ushering for Eddie to follow him to the downstairs master bathroom. There’s a part of him that hates treating Eddie like he’s a spooked little animal, defenseless and wrecked on the side of the road, one that’s been hit by a car, one that’s too afraid to realize they’ll live. But, what else is he supposed to do? Getting too close in his space seems to make Eddie freak, which is the last thing Steve wants.

Without any other words, just some wet sobs and aching cries that crumble Steve’s heart, Eddie follows on his heels. Head down to the floor, arms loose at his sides, his fingers flexing as if to press into the soft flesh of his palm. He settles over the closed toilet seat while Steve rummages through the cabinets, coming out successful with a red first aid bag in his hands. It’s heavy between his palms, overstocked and readily loaded for any and all emergencies. This feels like something detrimental, Steve hates how he’s shaking, too.

He grabs necessary first aid. Just a little bit of rubbing alcohol to get the dried blood off of Eddie’s skin, a half used tube of Neosporin, and a wad of toilet paper to hold to the wound. His nose seems to have stopped bleeding many minutes ago, so Steve’s not worried about that needing to be plugged up. But he still stands in front of Eddie—Well, actually, he crouches down onto the tiled flooring. Hard on his knees, but that puts him at eye level with the poor guy. He sets out his supplies on the lip of the bathtub, just to his right. And sets his palms softly on Eddie’s knees. He’s shaking there, too.

“Alright, Eds, tell me where it hurts. I gotta make sure you don’t have anything broken or anything that requires stitches, that’s all,” he coaxes.

Instead of speaking, Eddie displays his wrists. Turning them slowly so that Steve can see every dark splotching of bruises. He points to his eye, which was all too obvious to Steve. At his lip. The bridge of his nose. And then, he splays his left hand over his heart. Bunching the fabric of his t-shirt there. His eyes are mournful, still at the floor, not exactly looking at Steve. More like he’s looking through the floor. There are tears cascading down his face. His skin a blotchy, red and white mess, puffy from injuries and emotion.

Steve sets his own right hand over Eddie’s left. “Your heart hurts?” He asks, thumb swiping over his soft cotton shirt. “What did they do to your chest, Eds?”

Eddie shrugs and shakes his head. “They didn’t—Nothing physical.”

“Oh.” Oh. “Eddie,” Steve breathes. His own eyes are burning.

Eddie’s shoulders shake with the onslaught of new sobs and tears. But he reigns himself in quickly. His eyes finding Steve’s in a dizzyingly fast twitch. “Please help me, Steve,” he quietly pleads. “I’ll tell you, but I—I can’t—“

Steve hushes him. He grabs for the wad of toilet paper and guides it gently to Eddie’s lip. The bleeding has started anew, faster and steadier. With the press, Steve whispers, “I’ve got you. Never have to beg for my help, Eddie. Never, ever.” He holds it there for a few silent minutes. And when he takes it away, the bleeding has soothed. “I’m gonna put some Neosporin on your lip, okay? It might sting.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie lowly whispers. Still though, he winces with the small swipe of cream to his lip. Hissing minutely behind his teeth. Steve runs his other palm down Eddie’s right arm.

Once his lip is taken care of, the other areas follow easy. Wiping carefully at the tacky areas of drying blood on his skin. Underneath his lower lip, dipping a little into his right nostril, the underside of his chin. And when the first aid is done, Steve settles back on the bathroom floor, hands pressed warmly to Eddie’s knees. “Let’s get you a change of warm clothes,” he starts, “and some ice for that bruise. Do you need any ice for the ones on your wrist?” Eddie just shakes his head. “Okay,” Steve mutters, nodding. “The good news is that nothing’s broken. Just some gnarly coloring and swelling that needs remedied. How about you follow me upstairs and we can hang out in my room?”

They don’t speak as they ascend the stairs. Or as Steve hands over a small stack of clothes: green sweatpants, white long sleeve undershirt, thick grey socks. Neither of them speak as Eddie changes in the ensuite bathroom or when he slithers back into the bedroom, still hunched, still small. As they clamber into Steve’s bed, sitting up at the headboard, legs stretched in front of them, hands to themselves.

The silence is almost suffocating. Hates the small sniffles coming from his left. Hates how one of his closest friends has been reduced to the skeleton of a boy, surely somebody that Wayne met many years ago. Hates it all. Hates it.

“Do you want to know what happened?” Eddie finally croaks.

“Only if you want me to know,” Steve easily replies. Because, sure, he loves his gossip. Loves the drama that swirls around Hawkins. But Eddie’s business is his own, and if he’s embarrassed by what happened, Steve won’t force. Fuck, he knows what it’s like to get your ass beat and then want to remain silent in the aftermath.

Eddie nods slow, eyes at his folded hands, searching for the words. His tongue rolls over his top teeth. And he sighs through his nose. His voice is raspy and small when he speaks. Steve instinctually leans closer. They’re both warm, or at least, Eddie’s nearing that. “I was eating lunch in the cafeteria today,” he begins. “I ate alone because I didn’t—It’s not worth dragging attention to the rest of Hellfire. Not anymore. Didn’t even want to do one of my stupid speeches, y’know?” Steve hums.

He continues, “This girl—probably a sophomore, I don’t know—had walked behind my table. But she tripped over something and fell straight to the ground, her lunch was spilled all over the place, down the front of her shirt. She was crying. And I—“ He huffs, closes his eyes, and roams his teeth again. His head falls back, hitting the headboard with a soft Thud. Opening his eyes up at the ceiling, it’s all too obvious that they’re filling with tears again. “All I did was stand up from my seat and offer my hand to her. That’s all I did. But…Fuck,” he softly swears. His hand coming up and swiping at his eyes. “Jason’s stupid buddies saw me. Shoved me down to the ground. Scared off that girl. That poor girl. And they just beat me,” he rushes out, unwavering, though congested. “Beat me in front of all my fucking peers. So I just ran, Steve. Ran away like I always do. Back to my car and then I—I didn’t really know where I was going. Ended up here, I guess.”

Steve rests the side of his head on the board of his bed. Just looking over at Eddie. “I’m sorry, Eds,” he states sincerely. “For what they did.” He wishes there was more he could say. Could do. Eddie definitely won’t allow him to go on a rampage in his honor. But, Steve weighs the consequences in his head.

“It’s not your fault,” Eddie whispers after a moment. Sighing with the sentiment.

“I can still be sorry on your behalf,” Steve shoots right back. “I’m glad you came here, though. I’d probably worry otherwise.” He rests his left hand over Eddie’s right. Squeezes. “Is there anything else that I can do for you right now?”

For a moment, Eddie hesitates. Seemingly mulling over whatever it is he wants. Until, his head drops down and his eyes are set on Steve. Big and wet. They dart between Steve’s, searching. With whatever he found, he softly requests, “Can you hug me?”

Without another thought, Steve scoots as close as he possibly can. Their thighs hot on each other. And he scoops Eddie up between his arms. One over his shoulder blades, the other resting on his lower back. His hands splay over Eddie’s warm body. Head tucked to the side of Eddie’s. 

And Eddie, he wraps back enthusiastically. A hand going to Steve’s head, the other to his right side. Fingers simply toying with the ends of Steve’s hair. He goes boneless in the embrace, sighing into it. Shoving his forehead into Steve’s shoulder. 

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Steve shakes his head. “No need.” And it’s true. Because, gosh, Steve would do anything for Eddie. If it means ridding him of all the hurt he’ll ever experience, taking it on as his own, he’d do it. In a heartbeat. “Does your chest still hurt?”

“No,” Eddie whispers, his own head knocking into Steve’s neck. “Think you fixed me. Think this fixed me.” He squeezes Steve’s torso. And then he goes quiet again. His breaths heavy, relaxed, deep into Steve’s soul. The frizzy bits to his hair tickle against Steve’s jaw with every small shuffle, like he’s trying to burrow deep between them. Steve almost wants to open up his ribcage and let him in. Then, Eddie sighs completely sated. He whispers, “Reminds me of my mom.”

“That a good thing?”

“It’s the best, Stevie,” Eddie swears. “Her hugs were like sunshine. Like just one touch and suddenly my day would just—“ And he makes a soft “Poof” noise near Steve’s ear. It warms his chest, the way Eddie animates things. “—No clouds.”

Steve nuzzles closer. “You can always come to me,” he promises. “I’ll hug you even if you don’t have the words to ask.”

I’d find you in the dark, anywhere, anytime, he almost wants to say. I’d find you by touch alone.

Eddie’s content sigh is enough of a response. It’s enough for Steve to remain pressed to him. It’s enough to make his heart beat molasses slow and comfortable.

It’s enough to make him say, “I’ve got you.” What he truly means: “I love you."

💕—————💕 Okay, I am so sorry for how long it took to get to the hug. But I literally couldn't think of a hugging interaction without a lot of information leading into it. Hope this is good, though!

[gcnpeachbeachmoved]

he never learns :/

[silly-salty-utdr-rants]

because there isnt enough kris angst

[saline-coelacanth]

Part 2 to that Storm Vessel comic I started working on a bit ago. (Go see part 1 here)

But yeah I just really wanted to draw a scene of Cole and Jay getting to actually talk for a little bit until Jay starts to slowly turn back into crazy mode and he has to leave.

Oh and btw, no, this is not the scene where Jay loses all hope and goes to the endless sea, that happens later in the timeline. I just felt like mentioning it in case some people assumed that's what this scene was. Again, there's a lot of time where Jay is still flying around Ninjago and destroying stuff before he fully leaves.

[whumpderella]

Blue Canvas of Youthful Days (Episode 02)

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Insignificant Injuries and Illness

Prompt: “Go back to bed before you hurt yourself.” (From Sombre Sapphics blog prompts)

Pairings: Wanda x R

Word count: 730

Summary: every time your left alone it ends in chaos

TW: minor injury, flu, coughing

A/n sorry I havent been very active work’s been kickin my ass

It had been three days. Three days and your bed was no more interesting than it had been when you first were bound to it by your girlfriend. Sure you were tired but boredom won out. Wanda had finally left your side to bring you some more soup and once the footsteps faded down the hall you knew you had maybe five minutes to satisfy the boredom for the first time in three days.

You stood shakily and waddled over to your desk still wrapped in layers of blankets. Carefully you moved the throwing knife off your sketchbook, cursing silently as your finger brushed against the blade and blood began to bead on your fingertip. Quickly you grabbed your small pencil case and the sketchbook and were about to get back into bed when the door opened. You stilled at the sound of the door. Wanda put on a stern expression. In any other circumstances you would have found it hot. But not when you were at risk of getting yelled at.

“Go back to bed before you hurt yourself.” she said stepping into the room holding the still steaming soup on a tray with some dayquil and a glass of cold water. Knowing she would find out one way or another you sighed throwing on a devilish grin.

“Too late already did” you grin before laughing still mildly delirious from the fever. You shuffled the stuff into your other arm and held up your bleeding finger. The red bead rolling down the length of your palm. Wanda used her magic to set the soup by the bedside and take your hand in hers carefully holding it to the low light due to your headache.

“Seriously?!” she exclaimed “ i left you alone for five minuets y/n” she shook her head. You grinned

“Which is five minutes too long babe” you lent in for s kiss when she dodged.

“No. Your going to be the death of me.” she placed her hands on your shoulders and guided you back to the bed as you began to sway. “Sit here and don’t move.”

You did as she said still cradling your finger as the blood began to run down your arm.

“I wont be the death of you if I die first” you called out as she went into the bathroom to get the first-aid kit. The words caught in your throat as you doubled over on the bed and hacked up a lung. The coughs tore at your chest which heaved at each strained breathe.

“Babe? You ok?” Wanda called quickly coming back out with the med kit. She used her magic to grab the glass of water and held it to your lips urging you to take slow sips. When you finally stopped you looked up to see her concerned face.

“Sorry” you rasped eliciting another short cough. She rubbed a hand between your shoulder blades.

“No. none of that. I know you don’t feel good love. Now let me see that finger.” she held out her hand and you put your hand in hers finger outstretched. She clicked her tongue.

“You did a good job on it at least.” she chuckled and began to clean it. You hissed at the antiseptic and Wanda paused as you began coughing again.

“Your doing so well babe just a little more.” she encouraged as tears built in your eyes at the pain in your chest. When she finished putting on the red bandaid, a gift you gave her for her first Christmas with the avengers, she placed a soft kiss on-top of the patch. Using her hand on your chest she guided you back into the pile of pillows.

“You need to eat something my love. Can i feed you.” you nodded feeling slightly hungry. Carefully Wanda held the soup in her lap and used her hand to guide the spoon to your lips. After you had drained half the bowl of the godly soup your eyes began to flutter closed.

“Rest babe. Ill be here when you wake up” she placed a kiss on your heated forehead as you fell into dreamland

MASTERLIST

[gcnpeachbeach]

shes off her royal rocker !!!!!!!!

[nurse-buckley]

Whumptober Day 6

Title:

Prompt: Written for anon "Eddie x reader. Reader is also with the 118. Eddie is training her on something so they trade places and then she gets injured, maybe hit by falling debris or something. And then while they’re at the hospital waiting to hear how she is he feels guilty because she was standing where he should have been."

Word Count: 1,489

Characters: Evan Buckley, Eddie Diaz, Bobby Nash, Hen Wilson and Chimney Han

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: mentions of injury (minor)

Summary: You and the team are called to an accident at a construction site when disaster strikes. Written for day six of @whumptober for the prompt "it should have been me."

Tags: @firemedicdiaz @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @alexxavicry @cm1031sr​ 

Authors notes: unbeta'd but I've got a migraine and wanted to post it before midnight. All mistakes are my own - hoping to reupload a polished version soon.

You were sitting with Eddie and buck, chatting over your coffee when the call bell sounded, altering you to another rescue. You followed quickly behind your team as you grabbed your turnouts and piled onto the fire engine. The sirens blared as you raced down the streets of LA and Bobby relayed the information he was receiving from dispatch. There were reports of a disaster at a construction site with multiple victims involved. You looked out the window as you mentally prepared yourself for what you were about to encounter when you arrived on scene. 

When you finally arrived, chaos greeted you as you took in the full extent of the accident. There was debris scattered everywhere as well as workers with various injuries, some were walking wounded and others were on the floor, surrounded by their colleagues who were attempting to help them. 

Bobby gave you your assignments, putting you and Eddie on medical with Hen and Chim due to the amount of casualties involved. You and Eddie partnered up together and grabbed your equipment before assessing the scene to identify who needed your help most. 

Amidst the chaos, your eyes landed on a man with a severe leg injury, his colleagues were frantically attempting to stem the bleeding as he deteriorated. 

You took over from one of the men, holding pressure on the wound as Eddie began his assessment and secured the man’s c-spine. Eddie could see the extent of the injury and turned to you, his voice filled with urgency, “swap with me. I’ll take over.” 

Nodding, you easily swapped positions and took over the patient's airway while Eddie took charge of managing the patient’s leg wound, knowing he had more experience with these sorts of injuries. 

As you began to work, a loud crash echoed from above as a piece of debris fell from a higher level right where Eddie had been moments before. Time seemed to move in slow motion as Eddie could do nothing but watch in horror, his heart in his throat as the ceiling fell around you. The last thing you remember before your world faded to black was a large piece of debris coming down on top of you and knocking you unconscious. 

Eddie felt as if his heart had stopped as he watched your body slump to the ground motionless. Panic surged through Eddie as he helplessly watched from his position and desperately screamed for back up. He was surrounded by extra hands moments later, including those of his team. Hen and Chimney rushed to your side, Buck and Bobby joining only moments later. Medics took over looking after the patients allowing him to rush forward to your side. He frantically pressed his fingers into your neck and let out a choked sob as he felt the weak pulse beneath his touch. It was a tense and agonizing few minutes but eventually they were able to pull you free. 

Eddie climbed in the ambulance behind you, his face etched with worry for you and the guilt he couldn’t help feeling that it should have been him on that stretcher. The team loaded you onto the waiting ambulance and rushed towards the hospital. 

As the ambulance arrived at the hospital, the doctors and nurses practically tore the gurney away from your teammates, promising that they would do their best for you. Eddie just hoped their best would be enough. 

Chim stepped behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, “y/n’s strong. We got them here in time. They’re going to pull through.” 

Eddie nodded, still not quite believing his friend as he sat in the uncomfortable and all too familiar chairs of the hospital waiting room and waited for news of your condition. 

A few hours later, with no updates on your condition, Eddie’s worry began to grow. Before he could think on it any longer, the surgeon who’d been working on you appeared followed by a nurse. He looked exhausted, but wore a hopeful expression as he approached the group. “Y/N’s made it through surgery. They’re in critical condition, but stable. The next few hours and days are critical but we’re hopeful.” 

“Once they’re out of recovery you can visit,” the nurse added. 

Eddie couldn’t help the overwhelming flood of relief that washed over him at the news. 

When the nurse came by again with another update and that you’d been moved out of recovery and into the ICU, Eddie was the first to rise. He promised himself that he’d watch out for you and be by your side until you woke up. 

Two days later, you still remained unconscious in the ICU while your body healed from the accident. The 118 had taken turns paying you visits, coming and going, but one person had remained by your side the entire time. Buck entered the room, coffee cup in hand, not expecting to see Eddie still there. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, the dark circles under his eyes showing he hadn’t gotten much rest. The room was eerily silent, the only sound the beeping of the heart monitor and soft buzz of medical equipment as he took the empty seat next to Eddie. Buck studied Eddie’s face and how his eyes never left you. 

“It should have been me,” Eddie muttered, so quietly Buck would have missed it if he weren’t sitting next to him. 

Buck’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Eddie, what?” 

“It should have been me who got hurt, not y/n. It should be me in that hospital bed.” He looked at Buck who was still just as confused. 

“Eddie, you know this isn’t your fault, right? Accidents happen and you couldn’t have stopped it.” 

“I put them here,” he choked out with tears in his eyes before continuing, “I asked them to swap places with me. If we hadn’t switched, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” 

Buck’s expression softened, “Eds, we’d still be in this situation if you hadn’t switched, only it would be you in that bed. You made a split second decision based on skill and what you thought was best for the patient. Accidents happen all the time in our line of work. This isn’t your fault and Y/N is strong, they pulled through surgery and they’re going to be okay, alright?” 

“I would have preferred it had been me.”

Buck sighed, he knew Eddie was tired and it wasn’t helping the situation. “We can’t change what happened, but what we can do is be here for y/n. They love you and they wouldn’t want you blaming yourself. When was the last time you got some rest or ate or drank anything?”

“I’m fine.”

“Eds, you need rest or you will end up in the hospital bed next to them. Come on, I’ll call Bobby and he can sit with them. You’re going to go home and I’m going to get you some food, water and you’re going to rest.”

“But…” he tried but Buck was having none of it. 

“I’m not arguing Eds.”

Eddie’s gaze returned to you, his eyes still filled with guilt and regret. “I just want y/n to wake up.”

“They will, but we can’t do anything but wait right now and I know they’d want you to be looking after yourself too.” 

Reluctantly Eddie got up from his seat and gave your hand a gentle squeeze before he followed Buck out of the room. They passed Bobby in the hallway who’d come at Buck’s request so you wouldn’t be left alone and headed back to Eddie’s to get him a shower, food and some rest. 

A few hours later Buck got a call from the hospital. He sat down on the table and gave Eddie a gentle shake to wake him, his phone still clutched in his hand. Eddie’s heart was in his throat as he thought the worst before Buck told him the words he’d been hoping to hear since the accident. You were awake. 

The pair rushed into your room, seeing you awake and talking to Bobby. A small smile crossed your lips as you saw Eddie waiting at the door. Buck and Bobby exchanged a knowing glance as they quietly left the room to give the two of you some privacy. 

You held out your hand for him as he walked into the room and he took the seat by your side. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze in return, his eyes filling with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” he began. 

“Eddie,” you interrupted, “I don’t blame you. You didn’t do anything wrong, accidents happen and I’m glad it wasn’t you.” 

“You heard?” 

“I know you blame yourself and think it should have been you, but I’m glad it wasn’t.” 

A tear rolled down his cheek as he leaned in close and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, relieved to finally know that you were going to be okay. 

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Porcelain Penance (Sebek Zigvolt & Diasomnia)

Content Warning: Minor blood and injury, self-deprecation, light angst Note: Commission for @riktorart ! Thank you so much! <3 <3 Loosely inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart"

***

Schink, schink, tink - CRASH!

No…no, no, no, NO! This couldn’t be! This could not be happening! How could he have made such a grievous error? He, Sebek Zigvolt, his highness’s most trusted attendant, second only to the honorable Lilia Vanrouge? Sebek, who the young lord trusted with such crucial tasks; the high prince, who left his very well-being and comfort in Sebek’s capable hands? How could Sebek Zigvolt make such a grave mistake?!

Sebek fell to his knees as he beheld the crime scene that was his own doing. Black porcelain shards - a few tinged with chartreuse, chestnut brown, white, and blue violet - were scattered across the floor. Just moments before, they had made the elegant body of a porcelain mug. The beverage bearing vessel was bestowed upon the bastion of Briar Valley shortly after his enrollment into Diasomnia. It was a most precious gift that Lord Malleus used often; it would serve that purpose no more. Its remains twinkled across the hard stone floors, like winking stars in the night sky. 

Sebek didn’t know he was crying until tear droplets dripped down from his cheeks and onto the floor. A few hit the porcelain fragments, which made them reflect the light above all the more. They highlighted the direness of his sins - they were unforgivable. In a moment of hysteria, Sebek gathered up the pointy shards in his hands, desperately trying to use his magic to piece the mug back together. Unfortunately for him, Sebek had yet to master such practical magic. His breath grew ragged, heart thundering in his chest as he squeezed the porcelain pieces in his hands, desperate to fix his mistake by sheer will alone. All he got from such a brutish attempt was pinpricks and cuts through the fabric of his black hand gloves and into his flesh. 

The young man barely registered the pain. In fact, he deemed himself deserving of it. As he unclasped his hands, he simply stared down at the pieces of porcelain now stabbed and lodged in his palms. Any stragglers, ones not pierced as deep, slipped through his fingers and fell back to the ground to rejoin their kin. This mistake, this vile mistake, could not go unpunished. Sebek surely deserved the gallows for this. 

Yet, the thought of presenting his error to Malleus was heart wrenching, indeed. All of his sins laid bare; Sebek’s bond with his prince and liege torn asunder, never to be repaired. Silver would surely take his place - Sebek could not let such a reality come to pass! Sebek’s ears twitched as he heard voices, footsteps approaching the kitchen. As quickly as he could, the first year snatched a dustpan and brush from the corner of the room and hastily swept up the shards. He flung open one of the bottom cabinets and fished out a small garbage bag used for the little waste bins stationed in each dorm room and bathroom. Sebek emptied the tiny pieces of porcelain into the bag and tied it close just as his classmates entered the kitchen. 

They were none the wiser to Sebek’s plight. Sebek struggled to remain calm as he put the dustpan and brush back in its proper place, shut the cabinet door, and exited the kitchen with only a nod of acknowledgement to his fellow students. He then quickly - but not too quickly - made his way up to his room, located on the second floor of the dorm. Luckily for him, his roommate was nowhere in sight once he arrived at his shared quarters. Sebek shut and locked the door before he let his false demeanor slip. There was a loose stone underneath the foot of his bed; it would make a suitable hiding place. Swiftly, Sebek knelt down and pried the stone out of its hole, which was just deep enough to fit the plastic bag without crushing its contents any further. 

Once Sebek replaced the rock, making sure it was snug in the floor, he hugged his legs, knees under his chin as he wept and sobbed. 

***

The man’s mistake was believing he could live with his lie. He could never - not for very long, at least. The morning and afternoon went by without a hitch, Sebek going about the day like it was any other. It was the beginning of the weekend, so Sebek participated in his Equestrian Club activities, completed all of his required assignments and homework, and paid his training dues. By the time evening came, all the anxious jitters he’d felt before had dwindled away. To keep one’s mind occupied was the key to success, after all. A few more hours and he would be in bed at the appointed time, ten o’clock sharp, to rest up for the next day. 

All was well until Malleus made a request of his attentive attendant. 

“Sebek, would you fetch me a coffee?” he asked, formally yet politely, as always. “I wish for my mind to keep sharp tonight; Lilia will not best me at chess again.” 

Although Lilia giggled and carried on with his teasing of the young lord (most unbecoming, but Sebek would not speak out of turn), Sebek’s resolve came crashing down. The coffee would need a place to settle, a place for Malleus to keep it warm and hot as he sipped the bitter brew. He would require the very mug that lay in tatters underneath the stone at the foot of Sebek’s bed. The man’s heart bounded in his chest, as did the blood in his ears. He began to feel his body quiver, for it knew the sins it - he - carried. Sebek needed to do something, anything, to avoid them. 

“Wou…Would that be wise, young master?” he asked, somehow keeping the tremble of his tongue at bay. “The hour is late, and you have duties to attend to tomorrow. Surely to drink such a highly caffeinated beverage would be ill for your slumber.” 

“Hm, he is right, Malleus,” Lilia commented. “It’s not a good idea for someone as young as you to stay up too late. You need to keep strong and well-minded if you are to become king.” 

Malleus waved his hand dismissively, visibly growing annoyed. “I am no longer a child, Lilia. I do not require a set bedtime; I am fully aware of my needs and limits.” 

“Are you quite sure of that?” Sebek watched as that familiar smirk crossed Lilia’s lips, paired with the narrow of his eyes and the teasing lint to his tone. “Just the other day, you overindulged on ice cream and gained not only a brain freeze, but a stomach ache as well. It was not the first time, either.” The fae rested his chin on the back of his hand. His fangs poked out from under his upper lip as he gave the prince a sly grin. “And need I remind you that it is not the first time that has occurred.” 

Malleus narrowed his own gaze - out of irritation, not playfulness. “That was a simple error, Lilia. I simply got carried away with [Name] on our little excursion, nothing more. Would you have had me ruin our time and denied them the pleasure of every treat their heart desired?” 

“Not at all,” Lilia replied, unbothered and undeterred by the prince’s piercing glare. “You youngsters deserve to go out and make a little mischief of yourselves.” The former general’s smile only grew. “You are children, after all.” 

Malleus kept his furious gaze on Lilia as he addressed Sebek once more. “Sebek, the coffee, if you please.” 

Though Sebek could feel the rising tension in the air, he still sought to avoid his mistake. “But, young master-” 

Malleus’s hands gripped the armrests of his chair, trimmed black nails digging into the plush, expensive fabric. “Now!” Sebek flinched at the sharp edge of his prince’s tone. For a moment, those furious slitted eyes met his own. “Or do you also think me a whimpering babe who cannot decide what is right or wrong for himself?” 

Lilia frowned as he gave his highness a disapproving look. “Now, Malleus, it is not right for you to-”

Before the elder could finish his sentence, Sebek dropped to his knees before the prince. He prostrated himself before the dragon, hands clasped in prayer, expression unseen as he faced Malleus’s heeled boots. “I BEG FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS, MY LORD!” To the side, on one of the tufted couches, Silver stirred from slumber, groggy eyes fluttering open to behold the commotion before him. Many other pairs of eyes joined Silver, Lilia, and their headmaster in watching this confession unfold. “I CAN NO LONGER BEAR TO LIE TO YOU!”

Malleus, his previous transgressions suddenly forgotten, looked upon Sebek with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?” 

“I CANNOT OBTAIN THAT WHICH YOU REQUIRE!” 

“My coffee?” 

“YES!” He was beginning to sob now. “I AM UNABLE TO DELIVER YOU YOUR COFFEE BECAUSE-” Sebek sniffled and sobbed. “BE-BECAUSE-!” In a flash, the first year sprang to his feet, still avoiding Malleus’s eye as he bowed deeply. “PLEASE EXCUSE ME FOR A MOMENT!” 

With that, Sebek rushed up the stairs. He ran until he reached his room, slamming open the door and startling his roommate. Sebek paid no mind to his roommate’s confused prodding as he pried up the loose stone at the foot of his bed. There, where he’d left it that morning, was the plastic garbage bag filled with the remnants of his young master’s prized mug. Tears continued to stream down his reddened cheeks as he cried and sobbed the whole journey back down the stairs. When he reentered the Diasomnia lounge, all eyes were on him, befuddled and intrigued. 

Sebek marched back over to Malleus and fell to his knees once more. He tore open the bag and held it up for the housewarden, his lord and liege, to see. “MY MISTAKE, YOUNG MASTER - MY FOUL GRIEVANCE! PLEASE, PUNISH ME IN ANY WAY YOU DEEM FIT! I BEG YOU!” 

For a terribly long, silent minute, only broken by Sebek’s sobs, Malleus simply stared at the broken pieces of porcelain. His brows furrowed in confusion as he examined them, studied their color and material. Finally, he spoke, “...What is it?” 

“YOUR MUG, YOUNG MASTER!” Sebek confessed. “THE PRIZED CHALICE YOU RECEIVED UPON YOUR ENTRANCE TO THE COLLEGE! I HAVE RUINED IT - CARELESSLY DROPPED IT WHILST WASHING IT THIS MORNING!” Sebek nearly pushed the bag into Malleus’s face as he thrusted it up closer to him. “I ADMIT THE DEED! HERE, HERE, YOUNG MASTER, MY LORD! IT IS THE PORCELAIN MUG, THAT WHICH HELD THE DISASOMNIA CREST, THAT YOU SO VALUED!” 

Once again, there was silence. Whether out of shock, an uncertainty of what to say, or complete bewilderment, not one soul uttered a word. Not even Malleus - his highness simply held a surprised expression. Silver simply blinked, still half-asleep and unlikely unsure just what was transpiring.

It was Lilia who finally broke the recurring silence. He said, on the cusp of an exasperated sigh, “Sebek, my boy, we can always buy another.”