#CW: minor injury

[steddieas-shegoes]

how are you even alive?

for @steddielovemonth prompt ‘love is watching them do stupid things’

rated t | 1,351 words | cw: minor injury, suggestive language | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, the hurt is Steve being stubborn, the comfort is Eddie loving him even though he should accept help

♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️

Twice a year, Steve deep cleaned the house.

Eddie had never witnessed anything like it before.

It’s not that he and Wayne were slobs, but they just did what was necessary, never spending an entire week going over a checklist a mile long to cover every inch of their house.

Steve did.

He said that when he was young, his parents hired people to do it and he was always fascinated with the way the house smelled so fresh for weeks after. He loved watching something go from dusty to shiny, loved seeing the way the windows glistened without any fingerprints from him.

And as he got older, his parents stopped hiring people and just expected it to get done, so he did. And he loved it.

Eddie couldn’t understand it, but he did love the way Steve’s eyes lit up when they got to his cleaning weeks in March and September. He’d plan it all out on a notepad by room, made a list of cleaning supplies he needed, and put stars next to things Eddie would have to help him with.

There were few stars, thankfully.

Eddie didn’t really mind helping. It was his home, too, and any time spent with Steve was time well spent. But the bleach sometimes bothered his sinuses and he’d end up coughing and sneezing for two days after.

He checked the lists now and noticed his name was only on three things:

Flip mattresses

Gutter cleaning (hold ladder and refill pressure washer)

Bookshelves (remove all books, dust, put books back)

He fist pumped once at the realization that he got off easy this time, much easier than he’d been expecting.

Actually, he almost always was enlisted to help with holding the ladder when Steve dusted the-

A bang interrupted his thoughts and he ran without even thinking what it could be.

He walked into the kitchen to see Steve on their ladder, some kind of homemade cleaning solution in a spray bottle in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

“What was that noise?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Steve reach as far as he could without falling off the ladder. He’d probably land on his feet from that height and be fine, but it wouldn’t exactly feel great.

“Dropped the other bottle I had hanging on my belt. It’s fine, just furniture polish. I can get it when I’m done dusting,” Steve was busy, barely even glanced back at Eddie as he answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed a supervisor?” Eddie found the furniture polish and set it on the counter, watching as Steve furiously rubbed at the top of the cabinets.

“I don’t. But gutter cleaning is tomorrow and I’ll need one then.”

“Steve…”

“Don’t Steve me. I’m fine! I’m already halfway done.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and stepped away, not wanting to argue with Steve when he was at his happiest.

“Can you put the radio on please, baby? I forgot to before I climbed up here.”

Eddie went over to the radio on the kitchen table and turned it on, surprised to find it tuned to the rock station instead of the hits station.

“Well color me shocked! Were you listening to,” he gasped and held his chest. “Rock?”

“Yes, I was. But if you’re gonna make a big deal about it then change it to the hits,” Steves eye roll was almost audible.

“No, no. Let’s listen to Def Leppard, sweetheart. It’s been my dream for one whole minute to check out your ass while listening to Pour Some Sugar On Me.”

Steve snorted, but continued his work.

Eddie continued watching.

And then Steve wobbled a little. He caught himself, but Eddie stood up straighter.

He wobbles more and Eddie started to move towards the ladder to hold it steady.

But it was too late.

Steve was already falling.

He landed on his ass with a yelp and a groan, the washcloth and bottle flying across the floor.

“Shit, Stevie, you okay?” Eddie crouched down next to him, hands cupping his cheeks as he looked him over.

“Yeah. Just twisted my ankle a little when I tried to catch myself,” Steve gestured down at his ankle. “Might need to ice it before I clean more.”

“Maybe you should rest so it doesn’t swell.” Eddie rolled the sweatpants he was wearing up and saw the way it was already swelling. “Okay, you have no choice but to rest since it’s swelling.”

“Fuck me.”

“I can do that after we ice it,” Eddie said as he gently moved his ankle left and right to see if it was broken.

Steve snorted. “Of course this would happen the first day of my spring cleaning.”

“Maybe if you’d let me supervise earlier…”

“I never lose my balance on the ladder! I thought I’d be fine.”

“Steve, you remember how last year when you were cleaning the pool you insisted the water wouldn’t overfill because of the filters?” Eddie smirked. “And then 6 hours later we were trying to rescue your pool chairs from floating away?”

“That isn’t the same!”

“And then when we first moved in and you insisted you could paint the ceiling yourself and you insisted on handpainting instead of a roller because it wouldn't be even to you and then you dripped paint everywhere and we had to get new carpet? Remember how you ended up breaking your finger because you insisted on rolling the carpet yourself?"

"Okay, that was just bad luck."

"And when you put out the Christmas decorations last year while I was helping Wayne with his truck and I came home to you stuck on the roof?"

"Listen, I am almost 100% sure one of the neighbor kids knocked the ladder over. There was no other way!"

Eddie kissed Steve's forehead. "I'm not sure how you're even alive. You're asking for an accident to happen."

"Weren't you supposed to be getting me ice?" Steve pouted.

Eddie leaned in and nipped at his bottom lip. "You want help getting to the couch first?"

"Nope. It's cleaning week. 20 minutes with an ice pack and then I'm back to dusting."

Eddie shook his head. "You're ridiculous. We'll ice it for 20 and then you're gonna rest for at least an hour so we know if we need to wrap it and keep weight off of it."

"I'm fine, Eds."

"Humor me, sweetheart."

It's a damn good thing Steve did because an hour and a half later, they were on their way to the emergency room for x-rays.

As the doctor told them both that Steve seemed to have fractured a small bone in his ankle, Eddie did his best not to look too smug.

"It won't require a cast or boot, but I do recommend ice every couple of hours and staying off of it as much as possible for the next week or so. If anything starts to hurt worse, come back for a boot."

"Thanks, doc." Eddie waited until the doctor left the room to turn to Steve. "How about next time you want to dust above the fridge and the top of the cabinets, you let me be there to catch you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine."

Eddie kissed his lips softly, barely brushed them just in case someone decided to walk in again. "You want me to stop on the way home to get some more pain meds?"

"Please."

"You hurtin'?"

"A little."

"You want me to take your mind off it?" Eddie wiggled his brows suggestively. "I can keep your ankle elevated, even."

"We'll see when we get home. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Someone has to do the cleaning, baby. Since I can't, looks like you've got a checklist to get to."

"Or we could just put off the cleaning until your ankle heals."

Steve shook his head. "No, I think you can handle it. I'll supervise."

"You're lucky you're so pretty," Eddie groaned.

"Don't forget I'm also very good at sucking your-"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. Let's go before you get us discriminated against."

[hollymacycomic]

Holly & Macy and Everyone Else

Chapter 4: Page 30

Start at the Beginning | About the comic | Tip-jar 

🌘 Support the comic & read the next page now on Patreon! 🌘

[uglylittlebug]

Messing around with that brush again man

And no, there is no context for the 3rd image. I just felt like messing with colors

[morganmerylhodgepodge]

Madison Paige

Obsolete character sheet image -you can see here I attempted to do a hand-drawn idea of imagry on her jacket to replace the images in the game. I ultimately decided to just simplify the jacket and not include the design at all.

Current character reference sheets (excluding out of context spoilers)

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

With Eyes to See and Ears to Hear - Chapter 20

‘Pumpkin’ – October 20th prompt. Prompts also fulfilled; ‘Sweater Weather’ - Sweet & Spicy Bingo; ‘I Want My Beloved to Be Happy’ – Multifandom Flash (Dozen) ‘Bandaging Wounds’ – Any Fandom Fluff Bingo The boys give this whole ‘Halloween’ thing a go. CW: Minor, accidental wound

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the cards under the KR :)

Matt shivered as he pulled me closer against his side, jaw shaking with the cold. “Anything taking your interest?” I grimaced guiltily as he yawned, kissing his cheek. “We don’t have to do this, you know? It’s honestly no big deal.” He shook his head fiercely, leaning closer. “I want you to be happy, my love. And I’m more than content to spend a chilly half hour while you stare at pumpkins in order to make that happen.” Chuckling quietly, I nuzzled closer, relishing the warmth raising from his sweater, the wool tickling my cheek lightly, only to be raised again a heartbeat later. “…That one!” I dragged the blind vigilante along by his hand stubbornly, dropping to my knees with a gasp. “Do you know how hard it is to find good pumpkins this late? We really should have done this earlier, but I totally forgot; I’ve never actually done it before, but I’ve always wanted to…” Matt squatted obligingly beside me, offering me the short, sharp blade. “Why don’t you do the honours, then?” I beamed and kissed him gently, carefully taking the knife from him and cutting through the thick stem, and letting out a soft grunt as I straightened, pressing the surprisingly-weighty gourd into his arms. “Now I need to find one for me!”

Matt groaned as he lifted his pumpkin, dropping it onto the table with a wince. “Whose idea was this again?” he grumbled good-naturedly, rubbing his back. “I’ve carried grown men that weighed less.” I purred, moving to trail my hands over his shoulders lovingly. “What’s up, Devil? A little vegetable too much for you?” “Fruit.” “Huh?” He gestured absently at the table, leaning into my touch. “Pumpkins. They’re technically a fruit, not a vegetable.” Snorting, I shook my head. “That… Doesn’t sound right.” “It is. Just like tomatoes.” I shrugged a little, leaning up to kiss the side of his neck gently. “…I’m still concerned about your capacity to carve pumpkins, Murdock.” He sighed, turning in my arms to press his lips to mine. “Clint… Please. You know me. And you know I don’t let a lack of sight stop me from doing anything. Please?” I nodded immediately, sufficiently chastised, and draped an arm around his neck to kiss him back. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just- Please be careful, okay? Sight or no sight, I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He cuddled me close to his chest, chuckling softly. “I fight ninjas on a regular basis, Hawk. I think I can handle a knife.” I kissed his shoulder before stepping back around the table, my eyes still flicking to him frequently despite myself as I picked up my own blade. The designs were simple, but I knew his fingers were more than up for feeling my heavy designs, given that I’d seen him read half a dozen books with far less tactile markings. If anything, he’d roll his eyes at my simplicity, mostly light-hearted but mildly disgruntled at my lack of faith.

As it turns out, I should have put more focus into my own work. Within minutes, I was cursing silently, too distracted by looking at him to watch my hands and a long slice across my palm acting as testament to my lack of focus. My face flamed in shame at my hypocrisy, and I curled my fingers around the wound, reluctant to admit my injury. But within seconds, his head lifted, placing the knife in his hand carefully on the table before extending it to me. “You’re injured.” “What? N-No, I-” “Don’t bullshit me, Clint. I can smell the blood.” He smirked playfully, lips curled on one side. “What was it you were saying about not wanting me to hurt myself?” I could only scowl in response, placing my hand in his. “Very funny.” He bit his lip lightly, moving around the table to pull me closer. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have laughed. It was just a little… Ironic.” “Yeah, yeah,” I murmured, smiling despite myself, his face splitting into a grin at the sound of amusement in his voice. “Seriously, it’s not that bad. Just a scrape, really.” “I’ll be the judge of that,” he muttered, gently probing along the edges of the laceration with a frown. “…This needs cleaning and covering, sweetheart. Sit.” With a sigh, I flopped onto a stool, wincing when he pressed a cloth to my palm. “First Aid Kit is-” “-under the sink,” he finished, shooting me a grin. “I know, Clint.” His interruption warmed my heart, and I watched him fondly as he fetched the kit, endeared by how well he knew my- our home, already. By the time he settled back in front of me again, I was beaming at him as he took my hand in his, carefully opening an alcohol wipe. “This might sting,” he warned, murmuring an apology when I inhaled sharply. “You broke your knee, and barely complained, but this is painful?” “That was in the line of duty. This was because I got distracted by a pretty man, and wasn’t watching what I was doing,” I replied, chuckling, and he smiled softly, head tipping as he pressed a band-aid over my wound. “You think I’m pretty?” I grinned, pressing my lips to his. “I think you’re beautiful, Matt.”

@flufftober @sweetspicybingo @multifandom-flash @anyfandomfluffbingo Short and sweet, halloweeny fun!

[lostandconfused8742]

Faith in humanity restored.

Story time.

I took my motorbike out for the first time unaccompanied today. On a single track lane I met a car coming the other way, skidded in the leaves at the edge of the road and came off the bike.

Now, obviously I am fine, gonna have some fun bruises but otherwise completely uninjured. Barely even scuffed my trousers. But all the people I have met through this experience have been so kind and so caring. The couple whose car I missed helped me get the bike up and moved to a safe place. Then, when my bike died on me halfway home I pulled in to a driveway. The couple at the house came out to check on me. Then they offered me a cup of tea. Then they ROPED IN A FRIEND WITH A VAN and got me and my bike home. I even got to meet their pet rabbits.

This could have been a truly shitty day. But all these people stopped everything and came to help me. People are great. Sometimes we forget that. But today, today I am thankful for the kindness of strangers and the willingness of communities to pitch in and get stuff done when it's needed

And now, in defiance of all common sense, I am going to take a very hot bath then cuddle a cat.

[bexstevie]

the mighty fall,

    <  w. @behyejin  >  content warning: minor injury

in hindsight, maybe he should have prepared more for the trick. granted, stevie’s done it multiple times-- on whim and on sheer luck, usually. he thought lady luck would have been on his side today, but once he feels the board slide forward, right out from under his feet, he knows the lady has left him to die. 

he hits the ground. in public. on camera. he’s still staring at the camera he has set up for the shot-- that’s just witnessed an epic failure. lame! he’s groaning as he pushes himself up to stand, grimacing at the throb of pain he feels in several areas of his body. chancing a glance around for his board, he pushes himself up to stand-- wobbling. he can feel whatever the damage is better when he stands, hopping over to his board so he can collect it. he does the same with the camera, head down and focused because there are people staring and he’s sure the group of high schoolers over there are laughing, and he’s gotta get out of here.

but he’s gotta patch himself up. once his stuff is gathered and shoved into his bag, he hobbles down the sidewalk and away from the people who are still watching him-- probably out of concern, because stevie hasn’t said a single word since he wiped out, and he’s noticeably limping. and he doesn’t say anything until he’s out of sight and into one of the first establishments he finds that doesn’t have people lingering outside. 

“hello,” he croaks out a hello, eyes wandering around. it’s...cat themed. and there’s a cat peering at him perched up on a table. probably a cafe then. that’s good at least-- he can deal with stares from cats rather than people. adjusting his bag on his shoulder, he reaches up to scratch his cheek when he feels something on it, only to grimace at the sting that follows. 

awkwardly looking around, but he doesn’t see an employee free. shrugging, he slowly steps over to a table, setting his bag down gently so he can sift through it. his first aid kit is at the bottom, in the midst of all the disarray. 

[manyunhappygreenies]

Be prepared to see what you'd rather not be.

she/her for Leo

Next.

[smallz-o]

ive spent so long on this rlly proud of it

(EDIT: YOU CAN SEE IT SO MUCH BETTER W/ BRIGHTNESS UP)

don't usually ask for stuff like this but i put a shit ton of effort into this so please reblog!!

[slightly-warmer-hibiscus-tea]

CW: minor injury (full underneath)

“Made it!” Happy Kuras day <3

[jjrockerslefttoe]

menhera chan and ame

[macaronichewtoyz]

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

[akuisinsane]

200+ notes... you all seemed to like The Reverse AU. so i made these HEAPS of drawings! (blood and minor gore on last page)

commissions open

[angel-hole]

plaras karitos. >

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I'm making myself sad thinking about Ed's suicidal behavior at the start of s2. Because the thing is, the methods Ed picks for his suicide attempts are so fucking brutal.

Ed's a smart guy; I'm sure if he really wanted to, he could have engineered some way to get someone to kill him painlessly. But he doesn't do that - it's passive "maybe I'll die in one of these 89 consecutive raids" at first (surely not a painless death to begin with), but then you realize later in the season he's probably actually aiming to break the record to bait Ned Low, a guy known for torturing people before he kills them. And Ed's attempt at the end of s2e2, the one where he goads the crew until they don't have a choice but to mutiny on him...getting all your friends to violently beat you to death is a pretty rough way to die.

The only time Ed isn't rocketing towards a very vicious and painful way to die is when he tries to get Izzy to shoot him, but even then, that can honestly be read as him making sure he's disarmed before he goes out there and gets the crew to mutiny on him, with a side of "if Izzy kills me now, that'd be alright, too." Every time I watch that scene it looks to me like Ed knew he wouldn't be able to get Izzy to shoot him.

The thing that really sticks with me isn't just that Ed's suicidal, it's not just that he wants to die. It's that he feels like he deserves for his death to be the most painful way to go he can think of. He doesn't just want to be punished because he feels like he's an irredeemable monster, he thinks he deserves to be hurt.

In conclusion: Stede Bonnet please hug your boyfriend and give him a nice soft blanket to cuddle up in, he needs it.

[devondespresso]

Surprise, Bitch Babe!

T | 691 words | ao3 to be added eventually? probably | Established Steddie, Eddie is a goofy menace | cws: minor blood, minor slapstick violence, rated t for swearing

STWG prompt: "surprise" because its the guild's birthday and i want a gold star dammit dhndnhdgn

Thanks to @tinytalkingtina for helping me speed up the ruminating process by a lot xhmxnhxnh

Graphics by @/steddiecameraroll-graphics

It happens fast. Too fast. 

And that is Eddie's downfall…

Despite his tendency towards loud dramatics, Eddie knows how to be quiet. How to go slow, how to watch, listen, and wait, keep his breath quiet and his steps light. Imperceptible as he lingers out of sight. Out of mind.

It’s a skill, honed from hours upon hours—days, even—of practice. Of dedication. Commitment to his cause, to his vision.

Eddie has failed this kind of task before. He’s slipped up, breathed too loud, made floorboards creak and shoes squeak. But lately, he’s done everything right, only to still be foiled at the last second by the sheer mastery of his opponent’s skill.

With any other adversary, he’s reigned victorious. But not this one. Not yet.

But tonight, Eddie is ready. He has seen the power of his opponent, acknowledged his finesse, his skill, analyzed his methods, the technique behind such innate, unyielding power.

What Eddie needs is speed. His perfectly silent, perfectly invisible stealth, and speed.

Eddie pads over from their bedroom to the kitchen, practically floating towards their arena, socks and soft carpet aiding his descent. 

He hovers by the wall just behind its corner, careful not to brush it, not even with the flannel of his pants or the hairs on his arm. He’s deliberate, careful, and precise.

The sink is running, aiding Eddie’s cause but not enough to start slacking. He listens to the sound of the water, hears the way its echo changes as something is brought under the stream. And as he busies himself with it, Eddie moves.

Eddie slips over, light and careful, avoiding the places he knows will creak—will ruin everything for him for the next week or more—bypasses the island, his second hiding place, because time is against him, because every second in the arena is chance for Steve to ‘feel’ him lurking, so Eddie doesn’t give him that time, marries waiting with speed to finally draw his own upper-hand.

Eddie is next to him and Steve notices, he shifts slightly, feels Eddie’s presence with a jolt but he’s too late, Eddie is already beside him—having finally won their longsuffering battle of wit—leaning his face in with a triumphant grin.

“Boo.”

It happens so fast.

Eddie gets a glimpse of Steve’s eye’s, hardened by fear, and before Eddie can think, can even register that expression, his back is hitting the island counter behind him, and he is the one left senseless: deafened by clattering in the sink and blinded by watery eyes and pain blooming from his face.

“Eddie– fucking—” Steve huffs, breathless but the shoulders of Steve’s watery silhouette drop.

Eddie nods out of reflex, blinking and bringing one hand up to his face.

“You fucking– god, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He can feel something kinda running in his nose. He brings his hand up and feels under it but doesn’t feel anything dripping out of it yet, so he guesses that must be good.

Steve lets out a deep sigh, relaxing as much as he probably can, before his silhouette dips out of sight for a few seconds and returns with a small box of tissues. Eddie grabs one, scrunching it under his nose to catch whatever blood wants to fall. 

“What the hell did you think would happen?”

“I didn’t.” Eddie said, pulling the tissue back to check it, then putting it back again.

“Didn’t.”

“Think.” Eddie said, smiling a little to himself and hoping the tissue would hide it.

Steve looked at him with a classic ‘Are you serious?’ face, brows scrunched, staring him down like prolonged exposure would make Eddie make more sense to him. Which seems to work, as Steve's face melts into resignation as he realizes that yes, Eddie is serious. 

Steve sighs, heavily but not unkindly.

“I'm sorry.” 

“You're okay, I'm sorry, too.” 

Steve smiles a little, still a little worn out and even more incredulous. 

“Thanks.” 

Eddie smiles and checks the tissue again, and he’s definitely bleeding. He catches Steve eyeing the tissue warily, even after Eddie openly looks up at him, until Steve eventually acknowledges his look.

“You're never doing that again.”

“Yeah.”