#major injury recovery

[greatunironic]

title: cause in the back of my mind, i'm in the back of your car (1/5) summary: "It was overcast at Silverstone, that afternoon. It was cooler than last year, the wind from Friday had died down significantly, and the likelihood of seeing rain was slim to none. Conditions were favorable, and Steve had had good runs in practice and snagged P2 to start. Max had officially made her test debut for the team Saturday too, and Erica despite her age, had gotten to be her race engineer; Max was going to get elevated out of testing and dev within the next two years and make motorsport history, and Erica was going to be the youngest race engineer in F1 history shortly there after, mark his words."

In which Steve started racing go-karts at ten, and never looked back.

excerpt:

The first time he got behind the wheel of a go-kart, Steve was ten.

They’d always moved around a lot for his dad’s job, and at first it had just taken them all across the States: he was born in Chicago, but he’d lived in Miami, Boston, LA, Toronto, and Houston by the time the first European posting was offered. Steve had been seven, back then, and good at making friends but not at keeping them, and his mom had frowned at the idea of Prague, somewhere so totally foreign, but they went nonetheless. That only lasted six months, and then it was Paris for eight, London for fifteen, and then Milan.

That was the city his mom had liked the most, and Steve figured either his dad did too or the business was best there because they bought a house and everything after the second month, had the furniture shipped from storage in Houston, and he actually got enrolled in an international school this time instead of getting foisted off on some perky au pair that his dad probably wanted to bang and his mom turned a blind eye and rictus grin to.

The school was one populated mostly by the kids of American diplomats and other expats, and it had enough connections that Steve practically gave presentations during Sunday dinners so his dad could examine these potential friends and let him know who to continue associating with, and who to drop like a hot potato.

[wangxianficrecs]

The Hate and Love of family by Moonlit_dewdrops

The Hate and Love of family

by Moonlit_dewdrops

T, WIP, 20k, Wangxian & Sangcheng

Summary: Wei Wuxian gets sent home after the fight with Jin Zixuan. Jiang Cheng is right to have worried. Kay's comments: Sometimes. You just read Wei Wuxian getting put through a meat grinder named Yu Ziyuan, because he's your beloved blorbo. In this story, he gets punished by Madam Yu after he punched Jin Zixuan, luckily the Jiang siblings are there for him and get him to safety. Featuring some minor Sangcheng, the Nie brothers being awesome, the Cloud Recesses being a safe haven for Wei Wuxian and the most tender hurt/comfort post-study arc Wangxian interactions. Excerpt: Jiang Cheng knows he has to leave for Cloud Recesses. He has no idea when his mother will be returning but he knows he has to get himself and his brother out before then. Wei Wuxian’s condition hasn’t gotten better though it has not gotten significantly worse either. He had yet to regain consciousness. During the past few nights, Wei Wuxian tosses and turns restlessly from nightmares on top of the fever, crying out names in his sleep. Most of the time, it’s their sister’s, sometimes it’s Jiang Cheng’s, and other times even Lan Wangji’s name. During the day, he continues to plan how to get to Cloud Recesses, despite his exhaustion from the restless nights he had looking after his brother. Jiang Cheng, being fearful of something terrible happening hadn’t returned to his own bedroom to sleep. In fact, he had barely been sleeping at all, jerking awake every time he no longer heard his brother’s breathing. He only manages to get some rest after Jiang Xing and his assistants assured him that they will wake him up if anything happened.

pov alternating, canon divergence, cloud recesses study arc, wei wuxian whump, hurt wei wuxian, major character injury, good sibling jiang cheng, good sibling jiang yanli, jiang cheng/nie huaisang, sangcheng, good uncle lan qiren, bad parent yu ziyuan, protective lan wangji, soft lan wangji/wei wuxian, developing relationship, hurt/comfort, recovery

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[aftgficrec]

hi besties! can i be a bit weird and ask for sick fics here? old/new/favorites, any will do! just some big ol’ hurt/ comfort, especially if combined with some emotional hurt/comfort 🥰

There’s nothing weird about this at all!  Apart from the fics below, there’s also our sickfic tag as well as our hurt/comfort tag for more (see our tag page under the heading ‘themes - injuries/illnesses/conditions’). - S

Previous recs:

cool andreil sick fics here

sick fics here

foxes with headaches/sick fics here

10k+ sick fics here

Andreil in hospital here

Neil with major injury here

Neil gets injured (post canon) here

Neil & car accidents here

accident-prone Neil here

Andreil with amnesia here

medical Andreil/Aaron & Neil here

Neil getting roofied here

Also see… 

‘we're one (there's nothing to be done)’ here

‘Just like that day’ here

‘head case (what to do with you)’ here

‘Such Stuff as Dreams are Made’ here

‘Neil Josten Is a Lucky Man’ here

‘Broken’ here

‘If Only I Were Enough’ (completed) here

‘I'll Come Back To You’ here

‘glass in the trees (objects in the rearview)’ here

‘Running Ragged’ here

‘To Love and Be Loved’ here

‘all that looking down’ here

‘next best thing’, keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?)’ and ‘no matter when and where, we’ll be alright’ here

‘Can Nobody Hear Me (I cannot breathe)’, ‘I remeber tears streaming down your face (for me to wipe them away)’, ‘you crawled inside my head’, ‘living leaves so many holes in us’, ‘Ciggarette Smoke Cure’, ‘Breathless’, ‘i've done my time’ and ‘cats and close calls’ here

‘The Highs and Lows of Pre-med Majors' here (Aaron)

‘Hold My Hand?’ here

‘Echo’ here 

I’m More Than This Body of Mine by yall_send_help [Rated M, 88811 words, incomplete, last updated Jan 2024]

The doctor took a pause, which Nathaniel was able to use to ask, “what about my leg?” The two pigs had the audacity to look surprised. The doctor looked over at them with a hint of confusion. “You didn’t tell him?” Towns shook his head as Browning said, “you told us not to.” Dr. Byrd nodded her head in approval and turned back to the bed. “Nathaniel…” she trailed off, reevaluating her words. “Would you mind if I sit?” and only after his own nod did she. “The damage done to your leg… it was unlike what most of the staff at this hospital had ever seen. The surgeons tried to save it, but…” She looked down at where his legs were and Nathaniel did too, only to feel himself pale at what he found. “The surgery took about three hours,” Dr. Byrd continued. “The only reason why it took so long was because the surgeons really did try to save your leg. They did. Amputations usually take only half that time. Eventually, Dr. McCoy called it. Because of the damage done to your leg, we couldn’t wake you up to ask. It had to go. I’m sorry.” or - the one where neil goes to baltimore and comes back missing a leg

tw: torture, tw: amputation, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: panic attacks, tw: blood, tw: animal cruelty, tw: implied/referenced drug overdose

fireproof by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 2097 words, complete, 2024]

Andrew gets his flu shot.

Things Always Gets Worse Before They Gets Better series by Renee_Walker_09 [Rated G, 40141 words, incomplete, 3 complete works, 2024]

Part 1: Beginnings & Endings (G, 1083 words)

It's 1:30 in the morning. The Foxes are celebrating their championship win against the Ravens the only way they know how to: booze, partying, and a little bit more booze. Nothing could possibly ruin this?

tw: car accident, tw: major character injury

Part 2: You Mean Everything To Me (G, 12767 words)

There are two crashed cars. There’s blood on the floor. Lights are flashing all around. Andrew is standing in the middle of the crash site with a blanket draped across his shoulders as he stares straight at Neil, lying on the floor.

tw: car accident, tw: major character injury, tw: (temporary) major character death, tw: suicide attempt, tw: drug overdose, tw: blood, tw: self harm

Part 3: Hours, Days, Weeks (G, 26299 words)

Andrew is lying in a coma following the accident. His condition is critical. And Neil and Aaron have to find a way to cope.  Neil and Aaron’s POVs of the crash and the past 6 weeks

tw: car accident, tw: blood, tw: major character injury, tw: (temporary) major character death, tw: self harm, tw: panic attacks, tw: seizures

NB: find art for the fics by the author here as well as embedded in the fics

Even goalkeepers can’t block sickness by BlowingYourMind [Rated G, 12768 words, complete, 2024]

“Rabbit,” Andrew peered up at him with half lidded eyes, “Yes or no?” “Yes ‘Drew,” Neil clasped his hands at Andrew’s elbows, “it’s always a yes, you know that.” “No ‘s not,” Andrew weakly argued as he took hold of Neil’s chest pad, using it to leverage himself upwards. It was awkward work of walking half-delirious Andrew back to the locker room, shielding him from the crowd while keeping him on his feet, but they managed. Or Andrew becomes very sick at an away game, and Neil and the foxes take care of him.

tw: vomit

the upswing by missgivings [Not Rated, 45569 words, incomplete, last updated Jan 2024]

The next universe over, life has gone a bit easier on Andrew. He’s gainfully employed as a nurse of all things, working beside his best friend Renee, and living in relative harmony with his brother, the recently graduated Dr. Aaron Minyard. Everything’s fine. It’s fine that he hasn’t spoken to Kevin in person for three years. It’s fine if Aaron’s leaving him to marry his stupid doctor girlfriend. It’s fine until the boy with the box-dyed hair stumbles into the ER and passes out at his feet, bringing a world of secrets and trouble with him. And Neil? Neil’s looking for any port in a storm.

tw: major character injury, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced self harm

please (don't bite) by Major_816 [Rated M, 5478 words, complete, 2024]

Genioglossus. It’s a fan-shaped muscle and forms the bulk of the inferior part of the tongue. It stretches to the hyoid bone too. ~ Neil wakes up to a bad day and it just gets worse.

tw: blood, tw: self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: nightmares, tw: flashbacks, tw: vomit

Will you love me for who I am, not for who I was? by something_boring [Rated T, 1580 words, complete, 2024]

Neil is sick on New Year's eve, wakes up to the fireworks, and continues to have a panic attack about his time on the run.

tw: nightmares, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Your Needs, My Needs by TogeMythia [Rated T, 1073 words, complete, 2023]

‘Neil.’ He whined, his face still buried under the blankets. ‘Hrmph?’ Neil responded with a confused noise from somewhere across the bed. ‘Do you feel as shit as you sound?’ - Or Neil and Andrew wake up sick on Christmas day.

tw: vomit

To be safe by HushedStars [Rated G, 2116 words, complete, 2023]

Neil is feeling unwell. He seeks comfort from Matt. It was late at night. Neil stood in the kitchen, deep in thought but still with one ear alert for any movement of his roommates. He shifted from foot to foot, hands digging into his sore neck

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: panic attacks

Safe with him by 1mNot4Hum4n [Not Rated, 2434 words, complete, 2023]

Neil is sick but doesn't want to admit it. He can't be sick. He can't be weak. Luckily Andrew is there to make sure his junkie is okay, and remind him that he has people around him who are willing to do anything to protect him.

'tis the season by moonix [Rated T, 5579 words, complete, 2023, locked]

Five holidays Andrew had to let Kevin take care of him and one time he got to return the favour.

i called your name ‘til the fever broke by cyanica [Rated T, 5632 words, incomplete, last updated Nov 2023]

Neil’s breath is hot and awful against Andrew’s thigh. “I can’t be sick on your birthday,” he says, like it’s that simple. “I can’t be sick on you on your birthday.” “How considerate,” Andrew’s voice is a bland murmur, and he is left watching Neil’s bloodless, wet lips, as he curls into Andrew’s lap. Neil gently pulls away after a moment, leaning back into Andrew’s hand on his neck. “Is me being sick still making you anxious?” he asks. Fever-stricken with dizzied-eyes and delirious thoughts, he knows Andrew without more than a moment beside him, a look into his eyes that makes Andrew feel undone, found. Or Neil is sick and Andrew isn’t coping well.

tw: vomit, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation, tw: anxiety

You Know I'm Good On My Own by sambutwithbooks [Rated G, 4568 words, complete, Aftg Then And Now 2023]

Andrew breaks his arm two games into the season and it feels a little bit like Neil’s world snaps with it. (A snapshot of Neil and Andrew between Andrew coming home from the hospital and going back home to Palmetto State.)

tw: major character injury

that's my line by sillyunicorn6154 [Rated G, 1291 words, complete, 2023]

Andrew is definitely not sick. But he is a little stubborn.

You're not fine, but you will be by karmenvi [Not Rated, 616 words, complete, 2023]

Neil is sick, so Andrew takes care of him. So it was supposed to be a sickfic, but it turned into 'Andrew stares at Neil and thinks his boyfriend is the prettiest boy in the world.' Anyway, enjoy some fluff.

I'll be okay if he's here by obsessivereader156 [Not Rated, 1673 words, complete, 2023]

“Thank you, Drew,” Neil says for the twentieth time, feeling so lucky to have someone take care of him. “Say it again and I will kill you.” “You’re just so nice to me,” Neil says a bit deliriously, “I’ve never had someone take care of me when I’m sick.”

If it means losing you, then no by LostMess_24 [Rated T, 6712 words, complete, 2023]

There was something against his hand, a pressure he knew too well, a hand that fit so perfectly against his, making Andrew’s presence known, making Neil’s entire body relax, slowing his breathing a bit. But before Neil could see the man at his side, it hit him. He was starting to feel it, all around him. Those white walls, the mattress he was in, the soft yet old sheets, the pressure on his arm. And finally, unmistakably, the regular and aggressive beeps, signs of a life that was his own. He was in a hospital bed. There’s an accident. Those idiots would do anything and everything to protect each other.

tw: major character injury, tw: car accidents

cause and effect by mistyrie [Rated M, 13107 words, complete, 2023]

"Andrew realized what he was seeing but he couldn’t comprehend it. He didn’t know how to help. There was no enemy to deal with – there was just Neil seizing on the floor and Andrew didn’t know what to do." Neil starts having seizures and Andrew tries to help.

tw: seizures (epilepsy)

how the foxes act when they're sick by @detectivebambam [tumblr, 2024]

headcanons on the foxes and illness

headcanons on Neil getting sick by @24-0z [tumblr, 2022]

Neil doesn't get sick very often, so when he finally catches the bug that had been going around campus, he's suddenly 8 years old again, sweating and trembling with fever

SICK!Neil for my soul. by @satan-in-a-v-neck [tumblr, 2021]

Neil is acting strange. Ask every fox and they'll tell you that for the past three days Neil Josten wasn't acting very Neil Josteny.

tw: vomit

illness/injuries as background event:

The Songs Around Us by doodlingstuff [Rated M, 80075 words, complete, 2022]

The mission was simple: Nathaniel would join Astral Foxes as Neil Josten and make them part of Moriyama Music. In reality, Neil became real, found a home, and fell in love despite his lies. When the Moriyamas send the Butcher to remind Neil of his mission and Andrew's life ends on the line, Neil will have to find a way to escape his fate and bring Andrew back. As he gets closer to losing the man he loves the most, Neil will realize that sometimes, music is the only answer, and others, truth is the only weapon he can use. Another Band!AU. This time extra angsty.

tw: torture, tw: car accident, tw: major character injury, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: panic attacks, tw: violence

NB: find art for this fic by @doodlingstuff here

[soapy-soartp]

Day 28 of @whumperless-whump-event

Day: 28 - NOTHING BEHIND THE EYES

Prompt: Fully unconscious / Force feeding / "It's just me, go back to sleep."

Fandom: TGCF

Characters: Xie Lian and Hua Cheng

A coffin. He was in a coffin. His god was in a fucking coffin.

To say Hua Cheng is furious is an understatement, but he has to reign it in, his god needs him. He’ll undoubtedly burn a few temples afterwards though. He shifts into his more youthful and pleasant form, then he quietly enters into the room he’s prepared for His Highness.

His god lays on the plush, extravagant bed, still as a corpse. He’s already taken on the task of cleaning and redressing his new guest, without aggravating the injuries.

“W-who…” his god asks, voice shaky and hoarse from disuse, while the ghost was cleaning him.

“This one is San Lang, Dianxia. Please be calm and allow me to help,” he explains gently. “Could you please take a sip of this for me?”

The injured one hesitates, slowly opening his beautiful golden eyes before wincing and shutting them quickly. Eventually he makes a small sound of affirmation and the rim of a cup is placed near his lips and a hand is holding his head up. He cautiously takes a sip, scared that the liquid inside would do more harm than good, but soon enough he realizes it was just truly water.

His highness was extremely thirsty, after a moment of caution he started to gulp down the cup, it got to the point that Hua Cheng was scared he’d choke. So as he was pulling away the half empty cup a weak hand quickly reaches up and (trying to) stop him. He grimaces and carefully pries the boney hand away before returning the cup to his god’s lips.

“Please, take your time. There's plenty of water and this San Lang would rather not see Dianxia choke… again.”

The injured god merely makes another sound of agreement before returning to, more slowly, drinking the water. Once he was satisfied his Highness takes in a shuddering breath and closes his eyes again, falling into an uneasy sleep.

While he sleeps the ghost quickly performs a check up on the god’s health, safe to say he hates what he finds. His highness has had his chest injury for a concerning amount of time, his fingers have signs of bleeding as well, he’s obviously been starved and not to mention the dehydration. No surprise that the supreme is furious.

Once cleaned and bandaged his guest looks a bit better, less dead looking, the lack of blood and visible hurt is slightly comforting.

He sighs and maneuvers the god to sit up, getting the bowl of medical broth he had prepared. Slowly and methodically he begins to feed his god some of the broth, taking great care in making sure the other didn’t choke. He gets halfway through the bowl before his unconcious guest stirs and coughs.

He stops and packs up the medical supplies and food, he sits in silence and stares.

When it’s time for him to leave he summons a few butterflies to monitor the sleeping one while he makes sure to make the necessary arrangements to ensure his beloved has a smooth and comfortable recovery in his city.

In the middle of the night he returns when his butterflies alert him of his guest stirring. He arrives and his highness is barely awake but his eyes are clearer. He’s more aware, but still obviously very injured and dazed, he seems better so the ghost can’t help a small relieved smile.

“Good morning, Dianxia,” he greets carefully. “It’s just me, please go back to sleep. You need the rest.”

[dapandapod]

To trust and to hold

For the @thepassifloradiscord a/b/o event, I chose the “I have to bond with you to save your life, sorry.” prompt. MUCH fun was had! Geralt bonds Jaskier to save his life from ouchies.

Warnings: Major character injury, hurt/comfort, Geralt is bad at emotions TM, recovery, angst? i guess? Because they are idiots in love who just doesn’t understand the other’s feelings. Also mostly Jaskier being very hurt, poor boy.

Betaread by my ever bestest @kuripon​, whomst deserves all the love on this planet. all of it.

Please enjoy!                 On Ao3 here

“Fuck, Jaskier, stay with me!”

Jaskier can barely make out the words. His entire body hurts, his blood burning in his veins. The world comes and goes, always dark around the edges.

“We are losing him,” someone says from the side. Jaskier doesn’t understand what that means, but something is hurting like the fucking seven hells in his abdomen. He tries to curl in on himself, but his arms are too heavy, and all he can manage is a weak whimper.

“You have to do it, Geralt. He will die if you don’t.”

Is that what this is? Dying?

Jaskier had always thought dying would be peaceful. He should have known better, living a life on the path, realizing the brutality of life by the side of a witcher. 

Death has taken many forms on their travels; sometimes as mercy, sometimes of necessity, sometimes cruelty.

It just never occurred to Jaskier that the cruelty of death would happen to him.

But evidently it was. A spasm passes through him, sending new spikes of pain through his body. Crying out hurts even more, and he gasps for air, fingers curling around nothing.

“Geralt!”

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier.”

Hot hands cradle the side of his face, a breath next to his ear.

“Please forgive me.”

Teeth sink into his neck, and for some reason it hurts more than anything he’s experienced so far. 

But soon, the excruciating pain overpowers anything else, making him blissfully numb, and Jaskier falls into darkness.

-

The first thing he registers is the throbbing pain in his stomach. From there it is only downhill, when every hurt and ache makes itself known and grabs at his attention.

Opening his eyes takes most of what little energy Jaskier has, and the world is blurry around him still. It is hard to concentrate, eyes roving across the room, trying to find something clear or familiar enough to focus on, but it just makes him dizzy.

Jaskier fades again, unconsciousness and blissful numbness calling him away. He imagines he can hear Geralt’s voice, feel his hand against his cheek.

Jaskier smiles faintly at the thought before he passes out again.

-

Waking up is less terrible this time. Jaskier’s lips feel so dry they could crack at the slightest movement, but breathing doesn’t hurt as much anymore. 

Upon opening his eyes, he finds the world is slightly clearer, but not by much.

Jaskier doesn’t recognize the room. The wooden beams have grayed with time, the paintings are unfamiliar, and the rough patchwork blanket around his legs and hips a stranger’s work.

Frowning and smacking his lips, Jaskier flexes his fingers, but the ache is almost gone. He seems to be alone in the room, but a chair is pushed up next to his bed, and on the bedside table is a bowl of water and some clothes. There is blood staining them.

Jaskier finally dares to look down at his chest.

He’s heavily bandaged around his abdomen, angry dark bruises peeking out where the bandages end just under his solar plexus.

Fuck.

His arms are not much better off, but it doesn’t seem as if any bones are broken. 

There are some nasty marks on his left bicep, and Jaskier can’t really recall what may have caused them. All he remembers is the stabbing pain, his insides feeling like they’d been torn out, and then the numbing bite-

Oh.

Gingerly, Jaskier raises a hand to his neck.

Bandages block his touch, and when Jaskier presses his fingers into it, he finds the covered skin tender, but surprisingly soothing to touch.

Of course, that is when Geralt enters the room, amber eyes quickly darting over Jaskier’s form, lingering on his hand over the bite.

“You are awake,” he breathes, and then yells over his shoulder, “HE IS AWAKE!” In less than a minute, Jaskier is surrounded by people. He recognizes none of them, but there is a familiar voice in the crowd. A voice belonging to the woman who is currently making him follow her finger with his eyes.

“You were there,” he croaks, and she tuts and helps him sip from a glass of water before letting him speak again. “You were there,” he repeats.

“I was. You almost died. You are very fucking lucky that Geralt was there to bond you.”

Jaskier’s eyes snap to Geralt, who stays back, hovering restlessly by the wall.

“What do you mean?” Jaskier feels dizzy all over again, especially as Geralt looks so damn sad. He senses it too, the guilt and self loathing trickling towards him through their bond. “Geralt, what does she mean?”

Strong hands angle his face towards the woman again, and Jaskier must tear his eyes away from the witcher.

“Look at me. Deep breaths. No, look at me. Breathe through the panic. You are alright, you are safe.”

No, this is not alright.

Geralt bit him, Geralt bonded him, tied them together.

‘I need no one, and the last thing I need is someone needing me.’

Fuck.

Jaskier gasps sharply, tears pricking his eyes, and the woman tries to keep his focus on her. Then her hands are replaced with hot, familiar hands as Geralt takes her place.

Geralt cradles Jaskier’s face, their eyes locked together.

“Slow breaths. Follow me.”

Geralt leans down, knocking their foreheads together. It is hard to force the air to stay in his lungs, but he tries, Jaskier tries so fucking hard for Geralt.

Soothing hums calms him down slowly, worry and guilt and affection still running through the bond.

The fucking bond.

But eventually, Jaskier breathes evenly again, the world coming back to focus. Geralt keeps his hands on Jaskier, but now his hands are resting on his shoulders, inches from where the bandage covering the bite.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted. But I couldn’t let you die, couldn’t let you leave me, Jask. We’ll talk about it later. You need to rest now. Heal.”

Jaskier looks up confused at Geralt, but he says nothing more. The woman moves Geralt to the chair next to the bed, so she can keep examining him, another two women at the edge of the bed returning to the task of changing bandages and checking him over.

Geralt holds his hand, thumb tracing back and forth over the back of his hand.

The woman makes him drink more, but Jaskier belatedly realizes that it’s not water.

It pulls him under, dreams dragging him down, Geralt’s hand in his the only thing anchoring him to reality.

-

It was an Arachas, they tell him. A big, spider-like creature with pincers, sharp teeth, and venom glands. Jaskier has no recollection of it, but there had been a contract. A temple in dire need of rescue from what apparently was the Arachas.

It had pierced Jaskier’s stomach, the venom killing him in minutes. The woman, who he now knows as Landina, told him he got lucky.

They had found his suppressants and realized what he was, and then the bond burned through everything in its way.

The puncture wound in his stomach aches, a painful reminder of what he cost Geralt.

It feels unreal. Bittersweet.

Jaskier had long accepted Geralt’s need for independence. As soon as it was clear to him that Geralt would not form any bond with any omega for any reasons, Jaskier started taking suppressants. Took efforts to hide who he is.

“They say witchers are unfeeling. But no such bond can form where there are no attachments,” Landina tells him the next day. “You are lucky to be alive.”

When he is alone again, Jaskier touches the bite once more.

Lucky, she says. Tied to a man who wants no one, who doesn’t want him, who despite saving him feels guilt and remorse. It’s there, clear as day. Jaskier is not sure what he is sending through their bond, but Geralt has not returned to his room yet.

The loneliness aches in him, the empty chair mocking him for his hope. Geralt doesn’t want him. Geralt just didn’t want him to die. Geralt is kind and caring and good, and not once has he shown a sign that he wants them to become more.

That’s not entirely true, he admits quietly to himself.

Two years ago, Geralt had kissed him. The memory burns at the back of his mind, a perfect picture of torture when Jaskier is left alone during the winter.

It was just a kiss. They had been at a wedding, the liquor had been flowing and the spirits had been high. Together they had stumbled into the barn wall, laughing and smiling, and then Geralt had pressed himself against Jaskier and captured his lips, slow and searing, his hands on Jaskier’s hips gripping him tightly.

The night had ended and they had never spoken of it since. And Jaskier never pushed. He tries to tamp down the longing, the loneliness, but Jaskier realizes that he has no secrets now. And Geralt is nowhere to be seen.

The fever creeps in during the night.

His body shivers with cold as he burns up, tossing and turning as much as his aching body allows. His skin feels too tight, and he whimpers when Landina lays a hand on his forehead.

“Hurts,” he pants, squirming to get away from her. “Geralt.”

But Geralt isn’t here. Why would he be? Landina was wrong, only the threat to his life got Geralt close to him.

“What’s wrong with him? He was healing.” One of the apprentices asks quietly by the door.

“He is rejecting the bond. It is incomplete, and his body is fighting it.”

Jaskier doesn’t understand what they are saying, but when they say rejection, pain lances through his body, and he gasps sharply.

“Get Geralt,”Landina orders.

-

Geralt feels it even before the apprentice can depart the room.

The sense of wrongness wracking through him, unsettling him. He is about to burst through the door to Jaskier when he hears Landina.

“He is rejecting the bond. It is incomplete.”

Heart plummeting, Geralt’s hand freezes on the handle.

“Get Geralt.” The head priestess instructs, and the door is flung open to reveal him standing there frozen. 

There is a brief pause where the young apprentice stares up at him, and then Geralt’s eyes catch on Jaskier, sickly pale with deep red patches on his chest and cheek.

“Leave us,” Landina tells the others, and they hurry out of the room around him. “Geralt. You have to make a decision.”

“About what?”

“If you want to keep your claim on him, or if you will let it burn away. He thinks your bond is one of duty, not affection, and he is trying to set you free.”

“... He can do that?”

“It is not uncommon in arranged marriages, when one part thinks the other indifferent. Usually caused by a distance between the two newly bonded, and usually mended by proximity. If that is something you want.”

Geralt hesitates. It is selfish of him, wanting to keep the bond. It was a one sided decision born of desperation. Geralt hadn’t even been trusted with the knowledge of Jaskier’s presentation, and the second he had known, he had bit him.

“What happens if it burns out?”

Landine studies his face before replying, hand clasped over her apron.

“Then the fever will run its course. If it doesn’t get worse, he should be fine, but his strength is already depleted. The bond would be severed and you would be free to go your separate ways.”

“We couldn’t be together?”

“You could. But remember, witcher, this is because he thinks you don't want him, not the other way around.”

“If I reinforce the bond, what then?”

Landina tilts her head and smiles up at him.

“That, master witcher, is up to you and your bard. He loves you dearly, that one. I think his heart has been breaking for many years.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. The priestess nods her goodbyes, then she leaves him with a feverish Jaskier.

Even from here, Geralt can smell his misery. Through the bond, there is strangely little.

Before he even knows what he is doing, Geralt is moving towards the bed. There is a lonely candle lit by the bedside table, the flickering light deepening the shadows.

“Jask,” he murmurs, sitting down next to him. The bed dips down, and Jaskier’s body presses against his leg.

Jaskier opens his eyes, watery with fever, but they focus on him anyway. Geralt can’t help but reach out, touching his clammy cheek, stroking it soothingly.

“Hi,” Geralt whispers, and Jaskier holds his wrist, looking up at him.

“You came,” Jaskier whispers, and oh. Geralt fucked up, didn’t he?

“I’m sorry. I know it is the wrong time to ask this, Jask, but I can’t decide this on my own, not again.”

“Are you staying?” Jaskier asks, fingers twitching as if he wants to hold on, but he doesn’t hold any tighter.

“If you want the bond, I will.”

“But you don’t want it,” Jaskier says, and he sounds so heartbroken and sure as he pushes Geralt’s hand away.

“What?” Geralt blinks.

“You don’t want a bond, and not with me. I’m sorry I forced you to bond with me.”

“Jaskier, what are you talking about? I was the one who bit you.” Geralt wants to touch him again, but Jaskier is still holding his wrist away from his face, grasping it if he has forgotten he is holding it.

“But I forced your hand. You are so good, so kind. You don’t want this bond.”

“Jaskier. Do you want this bond?”

Jaskier doesn’t respond, and Geralt aches, a trickle of emotion making its way through the bond now that they are touching.

“Jask. Do you?”

With the smallest voice, looking anywhere but at Geralt, Jaskier replies.

“I do.”

Fuck.

Geralt shifts, moving Jaskier so that they both fit in the bed. It is tight, but Geralt arranges them so that Jaskier is tucked under his chin, their legs tangled together.

“What are you doing?” Jaskier whispers, even as he nuzzles closer, seeking comfort where Geralt’s scent is the strongest.

“I didn’t want to force this on you. But if you really want this, we will keep it.”

“You noble idiot,” Jaskier mutters, his eyelids getting heavy. “I will only hold you back.”

“Being with you is not a burden, Jask. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

They don’t talk much after that. The fever pulls Jaskier under again, squirming against Geralt’s chest as shivers wrack his body. 

Geralt is not sure what he expected would happen, a miraculous recovery or something, but he surely didn’t expect Jaskier to be sweating and whining through the night as fever dreams plague him.

More than once, Jaskier says his name, clinging hard when Geralt reaches for the cloth to wipe Jaskier’s brow. It’s a long night, and come morning, the fever has yet to break.

Landina enters the room, noticing Geralt holding Jaskier and nods. Swiftly she takes control of the situation, ordering her apprentices around, making them fetch ointments and soup and some breakfast for the witcher. 

With her bustling around, Jaskier wakes up enough to accept medicine and soup. As soon as he is done, he tucks back in against Geralt, sighing contently as sleep claims him again.

It is… a strange feeling for Geralt. To be trusted like this, for Jaskier to so obviously find comfort in him. The bard has always been tactile, always leaning into Geralt, touching him, smiling at him, but this experience is on another level.

Geralt has a vague memory that tastes more like a dream, where they had danced, and Jaskier had smiled at him so sweetly and Geralt couldn’t help but kiss him.

It replays in his mind now, as he watches Jaskier sleep. It’s not the first time he has done that.

Sleeping always is a fickle thing for him, and to get any rest at all, meditation is what has kept him sane. During those times, it is soothing to listen to Roach chewing, the forest singing its night time song, and Jaskier’s easy breaths.

Geralt tucks a strand of hair behind Jaskier’s ear. Allows himself to think of what Landina said. About how Jaskier’s heart had been breaking for years. About how Jaskier blames himself for them bonding, as if that is not something selfishly wants.

While Geralt is waiting for Jaskier to recover, he plans. There are things he needs to tell his bard.

-

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Jaskier croaks to Landina, who chuckles when she checks his temperature.

“Someone is feeling better,” she remarks, sending Geralt a look. When Jaskier woke up, Geralt had still been in bed with him, which had been an… experience. For now, the witcher sits next to his bed, but still holding his hand.

Most of his body is very much bruised up still, and his muscles are sore from shivering and cramping through most of the night, but his head feels clearer. He has a feeling Geralt asked him something important last night, but he doesn’t feel like asking with everybody else around them.

It takes almost half an hour before Landina is satisfied, feeding him with more soup and medicine and sitting him up properly in bed.

When the door finally closes behind her, Jaskier sneaks a peek at Geralt, who is already watching him.

“Do you remember what I asked you yesterday?” the witcher asks, always straightforward when he has a goal.

“Not really? I remember you asking something, and that it felt important.”

Geralt grips his hand a little tighter, gathering his thoughts a moment before he speaks.

“I asked if you wanted this bond.”

Ah. Shit.

“And I realize I have not been a very good friend to you.”

This makes Jaskier look up in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“It seems I have made you think I don’t care about you. That I loathe being bonded to you.”

Jaskier looks down. Wants to pull back his hand. Whatever this is, Jaskier isn’t sure he wants to hear it.

What is strange though, is what he senses through their bond.

“I bit you, because I can’t face a future without you. And it was selfish of me, and I bound you to me because of it.”

Opening and closing his mouth, Jaskier is stunned. He is sure he looks like a gaping fish, but he can’t think of one good thing to say right now. His heart is hammering in his chest, and his mind is racing.

“Why did you ask me if I wanted the bond last night, Geralt?”

“Because your body was rejecting it. Landina said it can happen when part of the bond feels rejected. I bit you once without your consent, Jaskier. I didn’t want to take that choice from you a second time.”

“Oh, you noble idiot,” Jaskier mutters, and for some reason Geralt chuckles and sits a bit closer. Jaskier finds himself leaning forward too, their hands trapped between them, fingers dancing over each other.

“I know we have a long way yet to go, but there is something that I can’t get out of my head.”

“Yes?” Jaskier breathes, eyes caught on the way Geralt’s lips move when he speaks.

“May I kiss you?”

Of all the things, this is not what Jaskier expected. 

Meeting Geralt’s eyes again, Jaskier nods. He can’t move forward, the angle is harsh for his bandaged stomach, but Geralt doesn’t mind. He moves so he sits opposite Jaskier on the bed, and with a gentle hand he tilts Jaskier’s jaw up.

Geralt’s lips are dry on his, careful in a way he wasn’t two years ago.

Taking a moment to read Jaskier’s face, Geralt decides to lean in again, guiding Jaskier back towards the mattress, leaning over him to kiss him more, like once wasn’t enough.

There is indeed a long way to go still. Jaskier needs to heal, and Geralt needs to deal with the surviving endrega nest not far from where Jaskier was hurt.

They have time. 

And for once, Jaskier feels like Geralt wants to spend that time with him.

[fullmetall]

something something about ed’s chronic pain

[altschmerzes]

Better Angels

a ted lasso oneshot belatedly celebrating my birthday (and @alter-alterego’s) and also my 1 million words on ao3 milestone

The second time that Jamie shows up, smirking and announcing that he can't participate in training because he's hurt is so much worse than the first time. He's changed a lot, grown up a lot, and no one knows why he's acting like this again when he's put so much time and effort into not being that person anymore. It feels like history is repeating itself, except... something isn't adding up.

Sam is the one who puts it together, who sees the proof that Jamie very much is hurt, and has led everyone to believe that he isn't by telling them that he is in a way that sounded like an obvious lie. It makes his head spin, and he doesn't know what to do. Thankfully, his team captain and his coaches are there to figure it out.

(Hypothetical season 3 timeline. Completely gen. Jamie is hurt in an accident. He doesn't handle it well.)

read on ao3

[sanerontheinside]

Chapters: 2/2 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda (Star Wars), Vokara Che, Mace Windu

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drama, Chronic Pain, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Worried Qui-Gon Jinn, Depression, Anxiety, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Written for the QuiObi Writing Discord

Series: Part 22 of Recovery

Summary:

Obi-Wan has a tremendous breakthrough; it is a victory, though a very different victory from the sort he remembers from earlier in his apprenticeship. Qui-Gon reflects on possibilities.

Apologies, folks, forgot to post here last week! This part is now complete. 

[massharp1971]

Merry Christmas, McSheppers!

If like me Christmas is a tricky time for you, 25K words of angst (but TW warning for a warm, fluffy, Christmassy, happy ending) might be just the thing...

[onhajoon]

I WROTE A FIX-IT TO THE ENDING OF TAXI DRIVER S2

In this house, On Ha Jun shall live- or rather Kim Dan Woo shall live!!! That final scene broke my heart, even though my head knew it was coming, so I wrote this 5k fic out of spite.

If anyone wants me to post the fic directly on tumblr, let me know!

(My story is a direct sequel to this amazing fix it one shot by Happenend on AO3, called "A Good Name". TOTALLY worth the read, it was EVERYTHING I needed.)

[lexpressobean]

I'm feeling sick and stupidly guilty about it, so here's a sick and stubborn Shino and my OC Ms. Ikemi to set him straight.

She's something of a Caregiver to Shino, and has always watched over his health and wellness. Despite her strictness, she's actually very fond of him lol

[wangxianficrecs]

💙 in payment, a hand by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account)

💙 in payment, a hand

by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account)

M, 10k, Series, Wangxian

Summary: “It was a kindness she didn’t take your right hand,” Jiang Yanli is the one to say, when she’s arrived with Jiang-shushu and he’s finally been taken to the healers. Not that the healers can do much. - Or, the one where Wei Wuxian's hand is taken. Kay's comments: I absolutely adore this series and I'm still heartbroken that justdoityoufucker orphaned all their works, but thankfully, the stories didn't get deleted and are still here for us to enjoy! This story has everything that I love: a fix-it that it's rooted in "it gets worse before it gets better", canon-divergence, Wen siblings feelings, Wei Wuxian finding his own path away from the Jiang Sect and Wangian finding their way together, it's the perfect package! It explores how the story could have gone, if Madam Yu had cut off Wei Wuxian's hand to save Lotus Pier and I love which directions it took. Excerpt: When Wei Ying wakes again, he initially thinks himself alone in the room, Wen Qing and Wen Ning’s beds neatly made up and the two of them not in eyesight when he pushes himself to sitting. He’s wrong. He’s not alone. There’s an achingly familiar white-clad form at the low table, sitting with perfect posture, writing with exact precision. Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, he thinks the other boy’s name but he must say it out loud because Lan Zhan turns to him like a flower toward sun. He doesn’t know why, but upon the sight of Lan Zhan, upon the way his eyes soften with worry when he sees Wei Ying, Wei Ying bursts into tears. It’s all so much, too much, and he wants to go to sleep and wake up and have it be before all this, before his hand got cut off, before the Xuanwu, before everything. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Lan Zhan was starting to look worried about the sudden tears, which was a funny thought, but not funny enough to override the sudden realization of just how much his life has been ruined by those he once thought to be his family. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan finally says, standing and stepping forward until he’s right next to the bed. He hesitates for a second, then flicks his sleeves out and neatly sits there, on the edge of the bed, and doesn’t even flinch when Wei Ying collapses into him.

pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, fall of lotus pier, sunshot campaign, family of choice, found family, amputation, injury recovery, major character injury, jiang family dynamics, not jiang family friendly, implied/referenced abuse, love confessions, getting together, first kiss, self-reflection, angst with a happy ending, no golden core transfer, angst with hurt/comfort, recovery, weddings

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[justsmilestuffhappens]

Hey.

I was wondering if you might know a fic that I am looking for.

It's starts with eddie and chris getting into a car accident. There are talks of glitter and a solar project being thrown around. Fast forward some and it is revealed that eddie is severely injured in a coma and chris is *TW* dead. When eddie wakes up he doesn't remember what happened or that chris even existed. He has brain problems. The fic is long and it is about eddie getting better with the help of buck and abuela. And of course the firefam. Towards the end eddie finds an old backpack and he remembers everything. He wanders off and meets up with an older homeless woman with many cats. Also buck and eddie do become buddie somewhat.

I have been looking for this for weeks!

Oh my God! No, I haven't. That sounds so sad, but the car accident part minus the death sounded like a few fics. I can ask around. But the fic might have been deleted or a part of an event where you post WIP, then erase them to let them go with the hope of trying to inspire the writers to finish the story, I think. I'll try looking around but can't promise you anything, Anon, and there's also the @buddiearchive , I think and other search tumblr's who might be better help with finding stuff and getting eyes on this

*update

@comfortbuddie thinks it might be this, if you want to take a look and reply back via anonymous messages if this fits or not, or if you want to come off anon

Here's the link to the author's entire series on that particular fic

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3210234

[spookywhumping]

A New Place

As is customary, I return to write a new chapter after months of waiting XD This one is a direct continuation of the last one, which is a direct continuation of the one before that (and both are linked below.) Dolly wakes up after being seemingly handed off to a new owner. He wonders what will happen next. These people want to heal his injuries, but why? I’m not going to spoil it, you’ll have to read it XD

More of Dolly. Other major stories: Intro | Tea Party | Snow Day | Broken Toy | Resale Value

—   —   —   —   —

For a while, the world passed in a blur of colors and feelings. White. Blue. Bright light. A prick on his arm. Pain.

Dolly’s thoughts were slow and sluggish. He could hardly keep his eyes open, let alone move anything else. The only thoughts in his head were those of vague confusion. Where was he? What was happening?

Blue. Dark green. Dim light. Something soft beneath him. Something moving. Pain. Pain.

Were those people? They looked like people moving. Who were they? Had he seen them before? How many were there? What did they want from him?

Dark green. Pale green. Brown. Shadows. Something soft on top of him. Someone brushing his hair out of his face. Pain. Then... no pain.

Things stayed the same for a while. The most that happened was more people moving. Dolly always tried to stay awake when he saw that. Just in case they wanted him to be. But eventually, sleep pulled him down.

Until, one day, it didn’t. Dolly opened his eyes slowly, and felt no need to close them again. The world was so much sharper than it was before. He was able to actually take in details of the room he now found himself in.

A bedroom, by the looks of it. The wallpaper was dark green with a looping gold design. There was a window nearby with its pale green curtains pulled open. Outside the sky was bright blue. Dolly was lying in a big bed with a wooden frame, underneath a pale green blanket. There was also a wooden table and pair of wooden chairs in the room, and—oh! There was a little girl sitting in one of the chairs.

Dolly tensed, then winced as the motion caused a dull pain in his ribs. He shouldn’t do that. He shouldn’t need to tense up around this little girl. She clearly wasn’t Eleanore. Though she was around her same age, this girl couldn’t be more different. She was dark-skinned, hair pulled back in braids, and wore a bright yellow T-shirt that Eleanore would have hated. So very clearly different. He didn’t need to worry... right?

Why was she staring at him?

He stared right back at her. For a solid minute, neither of them looked away.

Then the girl hopped off the chair and walked away. She pulled open a dark wooden door and disappeared.

Dolly wanted to stay awake. What if she came back? What if she brought someone with her? Someone... like... oh! What happened with that old woman? The one who’d dressed in a black veil and picked him up from the Winthrops? Surely she was Dolly’s new owner. Where was she? Who was this little girl to her?

But as much as he wanted to—needed to—remain alert, sleep was once again calling him. He closed his eyes for just a moment, hoping to placate that feeling...

—   —   —   —   —

The next time Dolly woke up there was no one in the room. His eyes darted around, and once he was sure of that fact, he relaxed. Just a bit. He shouldn’t let his guard down all the way. But at least he could look around some more.

The design of the room was... old-fashioned. Not excessively. It wasn’t like the furniture were antiques. But their style was a few decades old. He didn’t know enough about interior design to place it exactly. In addition to the bed and table with chairs, there was also a dresser with a large mirror and a closet, its dark wood doors slid open to show clothes on hangars.

There was also a... well, Dolly wasn’t sure what it was called exactly. One of those things with the clear bags you see in hospitals. It was right next to the bed. He stared at it. There was a tube coming from the bag. His eyes followed its length... until it ended at his left arm, where a needle pierced his skin right at the bend in his elbow, held in place with medical tape.

Wait... Now that he was looking at himself, he realized he was wearing new clothes. Primarily, an overlarge gray T-shirt with faded writing—something the Winthrops would never put him in. He couldn’t see his legs with the blanket, but he could feel new, soft fabric. And... there was a cast around his right arm. He could also feel something similarly stiff around his left shin. And there was a strange cold patch on either side of his ribs, under this new shirt. Band-Aids and other bandages dotted his arms.

Before Dolly could fully process this (Why would someone give treatment to a doll like this? That wasn’t how it worked, was it?), the door to the room creaked open. Dolly’s eyes snapped towards it and saw a man walk in.

“Oh shit.” The man stopped only a few steps into the room. “You’re awake again.” He was darker skinned—like that little girl was—and had long black hair, strands pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a black T-shirt with some colorful swirling design on it. “Hold on. I’ll be right back. Don’t fall asleep.” And the man turned around and left again, leaving the door open.

Dolly stared at the door. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.

But sleep was calling for him again. He could feel it trying to drag him down...

No! Don’t fall asleep. He said not to do that, and Dolly knew what happened when dolls didn’t listen. Remembering that sent a surge of fear through him. The adrenaline momentarily jolted him awake, but it didn’t last long. His eyelids were so heavy...

Don’t fall asleep. Don’t... fall...

—   —   —   —   —

Dolly’s eyes shot open. No! He’d fallen asleep, he wasn’t supposed to do that! He shot up into a sitting position, biting back a cry as the sudden motion sent pain through his sides.

“Holy fuck!” The man was in the room again. He’d been sitting at the table but now stood up quickly. “Don’t scare me like that, oh my god.” He let out a huff of breath and pressed a hand to his chest. “Alright. Third time’s the charm. I’ll actually be right back.” He started walking towards the door, then glanced back at Dolly. “Relax, man. And lie back down, you shouldn’t be moving too much.” And he left.

Dolly waited. After a few seconds, he slowly lied back down, head and shoulders supported by pillows. His stomach sank. He’d fallen asleep. He wasn’t supposed to do that. Dolls weren’t supposed to do what their owners didn’t want. And sure, maybe that man wasn’t his new owner—he was pretty sure it was the old woman from before—but he didn’t want to risk it.

His caution hadn’t paid off, though. He hadn’t listened. He knew what was coming next. No doubt that was why the man had left the room. He would be back with... with something to... no, he didn’t want to think about it. It would only make the wait worse.

Only a minute later, the man returned... and with him was the old woman Dolly remembered. Her silver hair was pulled back in a bun and she wore a green turtleneck and a pair of glasses on a chain. “Yeah, see?” the man said, gesturing at Dolly.

“I do see, yes.” The old woman adjusted her glasses. She looked at Dolly... and smiled. “Hello there. Glad to see you’re awake. So sorry about the sedation. We’ve adjusted the cocktail now, it's only painkillers.”

Dolly stared at her. He glanced over at the man, who was standing off to the side and slightly behind the woman. What was their relationship? He was pretty sure they weren’t family. They looked nothing like each other.

“My name is Andrea,” the woman said. “This is Xaver.” She gestured at the man, who nodded and raised a hand in greeting. “And he says you’ve already met Lilith, too. If you remember being awake for that. She’d be a ten-year-old girl.” The woman—Andrea paused. “Can you tell me your name?” she asked softly.

No. No no no, this was a test of some kind, wasn’t it? Dolls weren’t supposed to talk. Surely she knew all the details, if she’d talked with the Winthrops. This was a test. Dolly said nothing. He didn’t move, either. Did she want him to? Should he shake his head?

“I see.” Andrea nodded. “Well... I suppose for now we can use what those people were calling you. Dolly, right?”

The man—Xaver made a face. “You sure about that, doc? It feels... wrong.”

“I know it does, but this is the best we can do for now.” Andrea looked back at him. “Give him time, alright?” Her voice was almost too quiet for Dolly to hear.

Xaver sighed. “Yeah, I got it.” He took a step backwards. “Well, you don’t need me here for this. I’m gonna go check on Lilith.”

“Alright. Tell her I say hello.”

“I’ll do that.” And with that, Xaver left.

As soon as he was gone, Dolly tensed, instinctively bracing himself even as the slight motion caused pain to shoot through his ribs. ‘You don’t need me for this’? What was that supposed to mean? Was Andrea going to do something? Was this the punishment for falling asleep when he wasn’t supposed to? He would have hoped it wouldn’t be too bad, since Andrea was elderly and may not be able to do anything intense, but Eleanore had been a child and she was fully capable of all sorts of things—

Andrea walked closer. Dolly’s breath hitched. He watched as she grabbed one of the chairs from the table and pulled it over to the side of the bed. She sat down. “Alright,” she said, letting out a heavy breath. “I suppose I should explain what’s happened to you, and what will happen next.”

Dolly wasn’t sure that was a good thing. He stared, waiting.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Andrea said in a soothing tone. Like how one would speak to a spooked, injured animal. An appropriate comparison, Dolly briefly thought. “Not now, not ever. We don’t do that here. No matter what you did or didn’t do. Alright?” She paused. “Nod if you understand.”

Tentatively, Dolly nodded. The motion revealed a slight crick in his neck that made him flinch.

“Alright. Good.” Andrea gave him a small smile. “Now. Let me start from the beginning. We’ve been looking into the Winthrops, and five days ago we found out they’d put the word out through certain channels that they were selling a... doll. One that was, as they put it... severely broken.”

That was him, obviously.

“Given the Winthrops’ character, I knew what they really meant. I felt it urgent that we jump in. Xaver was a tad unhappy about me making myself known to them, but I thought time was of the essence. And I was right.” Andrea’s expression became grave. “If I hadn’t stepped in for the... for the purchase... I doubt you would have made it much longer. Or if you did, it would be in the hands of someone much worse than the Winthrops.”

Worse?! For the first time in a while, Dolly wanted to laugh. Even though it wasn’t funny. And even though dolls weren’t supposed to laugh.

“I can’t know what happened,” Andrea continued sympathetically. “But I know that your arm, leg, and ribs were broken. You had many cuts and bruises, some of which were infected. And it was all made worse by malnutrition and dehydration. Don’t worry. We’ve taken care of all of that. You must have noticed the casts and bandages, haven’t you?” She chuckled. The sound quickly faded.

Dolly had to take a moment to understand all this. Andrea had bought him from the Winthrops because she thought he... wouldn’t make it. That thought made him feel very cold. He decided not to focus on this part. And instead wondered what Andrea wanted from him now. She had to have a reason for this. People didn’t just buy dolls to fix them up. They fixed dolls so they could use them later.

“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to move much while your body heals,” Andrea said. “I don’t want your injuries getting worse. But I will be visiting you. Every day, at least once. You and I will be... working on things together. If I cannot come, Xaver will check on you.” She paused. “Do you understand? Nod if you do.”

Dolly nodded. Okay. So she did want something after this. Work on what, though?

Andrea’s eyes scanned his face. “Before I go,” she said softly. “I need to... establish something. For this to work. I want you to respond to questions when I ask them. When you do, I want you to be as honest as possible, according to your own thoughts. Do you understand?”

He... thought he did. Unless... this was another test? Or a trick? After a few seconds of internal debate, Dolly hesitantly nodded. He held his breath as he anticipated Andrea’s response.

“Good.” She smiled, and pushed herself to her feet. “I will be back to check on you later today. Get some rest. Don’t be afraid to fall asleep; I do not mind if you are sleeping when I check on you. Understand?”

Dolly nodded one last time.

“Great.” Another smile. “I will see you again, Dolly.” With that, she walked towards the door and left the room, closing it behind her.

Dolly waited, just in case she was going to change her mind and come back. She didn’t. And that man, Xaver, didn’t appear either. So he finally relaxed. He turned his head to stare out the window. The sky outside was clear. A sunny day. It was... nice.

But surely the sky would cloud over again.

It wasn’t worth hoping for constant sun.

[kat-theglitch]

HELLO!!! I just started reading ROTTMNT“Like father like son” and I’m devastated feel free to say no but I’m trynna find Mutuals to cry about it together 😭😭😭😭

OH ABSOLUTELY!!!

I'm here for y'all to cry about (only when it comes to angsty fics tho) hit me up anytime y'all wanna rant and cry about fics and we can do it together!!!

Also I fucking love hurt/comfort and major character injury fics they're like... The best for me <3

[sanerontheinside]

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Worried Qui-Gon Jinn, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Chronic Pain, Written for the QuiObi Writing Discord

Series: Part 18 of Recovery

Summary:

Obi-Wan had been recovering well from the Tylaniian Measels, and though he was still weak and his memory still spotty, at least his pain levels had been—mercifully—bearable. The last few days had been good ones, but today the pain had kept Obi-Wan trapped in bed.

Obi-Wan has a bad pain day; Qui-Gon takes care of him.

Happy Friday, everybody!