#AND I PUT A BANDAGE ON MY ABRASION. BY THE WAY

[dykebeckett]

omg are you okay you got in an accident????

I have a minor abrasion on my wrist and got high as shit when I got home my main problems were a sort of adrenaline fueled hyperanxiety (helped by the weed) and being alone in my house while in straight up prey animal mode (helped by three cumulative hours of phone calls with a good friend and my grandma) so. I’m fine

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Harem in Reverse

"You're soon to be 26, Your Royal Highness. You must put together your harem soon or risk being married off to whomever the regent chooses for you." You sigh, nodding in agreement. Choosing a direct husband would be against the rules, and frankly, you weren't interested in interviewing for the perfect man. Choosing many for their adherence to various qualities, though. That would be a good choice. "Shall I put forth a call for certain attributes? Strong arms? Large chest? Impressive intellect?"

"No, I want to review the troops this week. I will find my consorts among the best our nation has to offer." The advisor looks stunned.

"Your Royal Highness, those are rough men. They do not have the breeding or training to handle you gently as a consort should. They are-."

"Advisor Williams, I know what attributes I am looking for. Schedule me to review the best of the troops, then. If none catch my eye, then I will consider others." The advisor nods, frustrated at not being heeded, but knowing they must follow a direct order.

The following week, you are almost nervous while getting ready, the beginning of butterflies in your stomach. If you weren't so tired, you're sure it would be worse, but the night before was yet another attempt on your life. They are becoming more frequent and more violent now.

Sighing, you hurry to the courtyard where your mount, Rosebud, is waiting. A gift that you feel had been meant to be another threat on your life. The mount was no ordinary horse or pony. Instead, it was the largest draft mule you had ever seen. If you had treated him like a horse, you're sure the thing would have stomped within minutes. He was a vain creature who had to be sweet-talked and treated with utmost respect before he would agree to do much of anything. He was covered in whip and spur scars, telling anyone that he was difficult to force submission from, despite their best efforts. Not that you thought anyone could force an animal born of a mammoth jack donkey and a Shire horse to submit physically. You loved each and every scar, the signs of his stubborn nature on display for all to see.

"Hello, sweet boy." You greet him and let him snuffle you over, waving off the over eager stable hand. "May I ride you today? I am to inspect the troops." He blows a huff of air and turns his head away. You slide your hand along his proud neck and across his withers to the saddle. Checking it over, you deem it done well enough and climb on his back. Your legs spread wide across his broad barrel. Your advisors turn away, knowing that you will refuse their most strident pleas to ride sidesaddle.

"Let us inspect the troops." With that, the company is off at a quick walk to the parade grounds. Your group of advisors and the personal guard that you only marginally trust join the General and his entourage at the front of the formation. You strongly dislike the General. He is somehow the worst mix of ass kissing and condescending.

"The army is excited to be inspected this morning, Your Royal Highness." You barely manage to cover your snort. There is no way they are happy to be here standing in the sun to be inspected on your whim. You move from company to company, looking over the men and pointing out individuals to be inspected, but seeing none you would consider as consort. Reaching the special forces, the rabid dogs as your advisors refer to them, the General is incensed to see that the leader of one is missing.

"Where is the Captain? This is not an optional inspection!"

A man steps forward, "He was injured in a skirmish this week and is still confined to the hospital, General Argus." Looking over the group, you see several still sport bandages and healing abrasions. You nudge your mount closer, his ears perked forward in a match to your curiosity. The General apologizes to you for the disrespect of the men for not appearing but is cut off.

"Your Royal Highness. Escaping the hospital took longer than predicted. For that, I sincerely apologize." You turn, seeing a man limping toward the formation at a quick pace. This must be the Captain. As he falls in, you dismount your mule, resting your hand on his broad neck. Your personal guard hurriedly surrounds you, standing much too close. Rosebud takes exception to being crowded, ears flattening against his head. He strikes out like a snake. His teeth click just shy of the nearest man, who stumbles back yelling and unsheathes a sword. Without a thought, you draw your own ceremonial dagger.

"Touch one hair on Rosebud, and I will gut you." Everyone around you freezes before slowly backing away. "I will not be crowded by your incompetent forms when I am here to inspect the troops." They retreat from your anger, not wanting to risk you calling for their death. Rosebud drops his head, relaxing, and you absentmindedly rub his long ear the way he loves. His lip twitches and his eyes half close for a moment before he pulls away. You step forward, and Rosebud matches your pace, keeping his shoulder just behind yours. It took months to build up a relationship with him, and now he is putty in your hands most days.

An advisor tries to signal you to stay back, but you ignore them, your eyes on the men, looking for the best of them. You memorize the name of the Captain and another likely candidate, signaling Advisor Williams to your side. He groans but carefully walks to you, eyes locked on the increased alertness of Rosebud.

"I will have an audience with this Captain Price and Colonel König. As soon as the men are dismissed. In private." You walk forward and give a cursory inspection to the man who had spoken on the Captain's behalf. His uniform is impeccable, you are happy to see. You don't want them punished on your behalf. The smirk on his face beneath his mask sends a thrill through you. Another man who is not cowed by your station. That is important in advisors. Lieutenant Riley, his uniform says. You nod and mount Rosebud again, rejoining the pack of advisors to inspect the remaining troops. No others catch your eye.

Walking into your State room, you signal for everyone except the two soldiers to leave. While unusual, they are compelled to do so by your haughty glares and Advisor Williams guiding them away, barring the doors behind him and standing guard. Sitting in your throne, you drag your eyes over the men. Colonel König is wearing his customary face covering, and Captain Price has the cover he is well-known for in his hands.

"I have a proposal for you both that I want you to carefully consider. This proposal will not be spoken of again if you decline and it will not leave this room." The men perk up, and you see heat in their eyes as they consider one of the possibilities of your words. "I need advisors who are not advisors." That throws them off, and you see the Colonel shift uneasily. "These advisors would be the closest of any man or woman to me. They would teach and protect me with their very lives. My life is under threat and has been since the King and Queen died, my uncle taking over as Regent. I need advisors who will help me oust him and take my rightful place on the throne without contest and without raising his suspicions. Thus, I need men who will join my harem." You pause, savoring the way their faces change as they process this.

"Your Royal Highness, are you asking us to find you men to join your harem? That is most unusual, but we will do our best." You shake your head at Captain Price.

"Yes, but not in the way you are thinking. I am asking the two of you to join my harem and to advise me on the best men to round out such a harem. To be advisors and leaders in removing the despot from his fake throne. To be my lovers, spoiled in every way and to guard me from all attempts on my life. I want you both, and I trust you to choose others and to bring them to me for approval. If you decline this position, we shall never speak on it again."

"Yes, I would be honored to be chosen for your harem, Your Royal Highness." Colonel König does not hesitate to agree. He feels he has loved you from afar for years, and this is an opportunity he will not squander.

"I would be as well, Your Royal Highness." Captain Price is confident that declining now would be a mistake, and he is not a man prone to mistakes. "I have a few men in mind that would be good additions. They are a bit of a package deal." You nod, expecting as much.

"Their names?"

"John MacTavish, Simon Riley and Kyle Garrick, Your Royal Highness."

"I have two in mind that would be good choices as well. Hiro Watanabe and Kim Hong-jin. They are foreign, but good, loyal and strong men, Your Royal Highness."

The smile you bestow them with is almost a surprise to the men. "Then, I wish for you to gather your men and their belongings. You will join me tonight, my consorts."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness." The men bow and leave, stunned at the way this meeting has gone. You order Advisor Williams to prepare the harem quarters and pack your own belongings secretly. It would be folly to live apart from the men who will be your new private guard and you would be lying if you weren't excited to see under those perfectly done uniforms.

[jello-chennie]

relationship hcs!

✧ pairing izuku, katsuki, eijirou, shouto w/ fem!reader

✧ genre/tw fluff ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

✧ a/n check out my masterlist!

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ izuku ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

isn't at all sure about how he pulled you

but he did and he isnt complaining

would absolutely love a kind soul in his partner

he swoons anytime you do little things to take care of him like if you know he has a pretty busy day, even if you're busy too, you go out of your way to make him a cup of coffee or tea and you always seem to get it just right

or whenever he's super focused on something the past few days and starts getting a little scatter brained, he'll forget to eat

if you're in ua, you'll share your lunch with him (which he will deny at first, but when you start pouting at him, he cant say no)

if he's a pro-hero and working, you take him out to lunch on his break

doesn't matter how far into your relationship you two are, he's always getting flustered by you

despite that, he's always trying to make you laugh (even if it means dying inside from embarrassment)

izuku cannot formally confirm or deny whether or not he may or may not be intentionally getting a few extra bumps and scrapes just so you can take the time to gently and lovingly bandage his wounds

loves it when you cut his hair for him!

even when you mess up (his chest will hurt a little with embarrassment whenever he's out in public, but only a little bc you did something for him, and he loves that more than anything else)

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ katsuki ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

totally would end up in a relationship in which you are his polar opposite

everyone is confused

but it totally works!

you're super shy and sweet, and hes audacious and a little abrasive

he pulls you out of your shell and makes you become less of a doormat, you reign him in a bit and round out his sharper edges

when he takes you to meet his parents, it doesn't fly past him that the two of you have a dynamic that reminds him of his parents

which pisses him off to no end bc that means he truly is his mother's son

he's become his mother

bakugou doesn't form close relationships easily, and is definitely an all or nothing kind of guy

once you're in, you're locked in

it doesn't take him very long to start fantasizing about marriage and kids once you officially become a couple

he is you're personal chef

and once you both enter the workforce, he takes extreme pride in making your lunch for you

can and will enter a silent competition with the significant other's of your coworkers for who can make the best bento

probably makes a social media page dedicated to making cooking videos in which he posts aesthetic af videos of him making meals for you

"pro-hero dynamite is famous on the internet for also being a gourmet chef!"

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ eijirou ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

kirishima would definitely fall for someone super fem presenting

he works out all the time and has all these muscles solely for the purpose of carrying things for you

and carrying you

afterall, that's what a real man does

will stop and buy all the pretty things he sees in store that remind him of you

likes it when you stick some of your cute stickers you make him take you to the mall to go buy onto his gear

is tickled pink by headlines that show up the next day like "red riot big sanrio fan?"

has matching sanrio keychains on his phone case with you

loves to sit and watch you do your makeup

will sit next to you and ask you to explain it to him

kiri will never say no when you ask to put it on him

after all, what kind of man would have his masculinity threatened by a little makeup?

besides, it's not like he can say no when you look up at him with those big, pretty eyes, and the cute, hopeful, little grin on your face

that would be just wrong

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ shouto ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

one of the types of people i see shouto falling for is someone who is a bit of a spitfire

someone who is caring, compassionate, and understanding

someone with endless amounts of kindness in their heart, and a little wise, but relentlessly brazen

he both loves and admires them, and falls for their personality

i see shouto taking little bits and pieces of his partner's personality, and they are ultimately responsible for shouto becoming a little more outspoken

shouto is someone who would become a teeny bit obsessed with his partner

you officially have a shadow once you get together bc he will have no problem following you everywhere, and wanting to hangout with you all the time

isn't at all nervous about having you meet his dad, bc shouto knows that if endeavor starts pissing you off, you'll find a way to respectfully tell him to fuck off without missing a beat

you're also super smart and emotionally intelligent, so when his family life starts to become particularly messy at the moment, you're right by his side helping him navigate

shouto loves you for being his lover and his confidant, constantly there for him with open arms and advice that's strangely wiser beyond your years

once shouto's dad stops being crummy, endeavor actually comes to respect you

shouto's mom and sister love you, and the three of you gossip like school girls

which makes shouto a little jealous when he feels left out

shouto's the kind of bf to get jealous of the cat that he wanted but ended up liking you more

won't say anything, and will spend all day pouting in a corner some where

you have to give him ton of affection to make it up to him

[leggerefiore]

Caring For An Injured Pokemon Boyfriend

cw: slight description of injuries, light blood mentions, fluff, tending to an injury

characters: Ingo, Emmet, Cyrus, Volo, Larry, Guzma

▲Ingo▼

● You watched as the older of the Subway Bosses tried to hide how he flinched when he put too much pressure on his leg. His facial expression may have been something that rarely changed from his usual frown. But, you caught the way his eye slightly closed, and his nostrils flared as he took in a sharp breath. Instantly, you stopped him on his way into the apartment to roll up the leg of his slacks. Ingo froze at your sudden movements and could only watch as you revealed the abrasion he had been trying to hide from you.

● “Ah, dearest…” his voice was uneasy, “Yes, I have an injury, but it is nothing for you to concern yourself with. I was going to tend to it myself just now.” You pouted at him and shook your head. Instead, you grabbed onto his hand and led him into the bathroom. Sitting him on the toilet, you carefully knelt down after washing your hands to examine it better. There was some dried blood that was carefully washed away with a clean wash cloth and soap as you determined the wound needed slight bandaging.

● Ingo felt conflicted as he watched you tend to his wound. It was not your job to deal with the unfortunate injuries he got during work hours, and he was bothered to burden you with such a task. Yet, watching you so dotingly tend to his wound shut him up. It would be cruel to tell you off while you were trying to help him. His heart felt oddly warm as you quickly worked to finish up with a bandage.

● You gently applied the adhesive bandage to the areas that had bled before standing up. Ingo looked up at you as you cupped his cheeks playfully. “Good boy,” you teased and watched as his cheeks bloomed pink. A laugh came from you. Pecking a quick kiss to his lips, you were suddenly overcome with curiosity. ���How'd you even get injured, Ingo?” you asked him with a tilt of your head. That was not like him at all, honestly. The older twin was always careful and dutiful.

● “Ah,” his hand moved to readjust his hat, but it was no longer on his head, “Well, I fell on my way into a train car. It was quite embarrassing actually… Emmet had to catch me.” You gasped. His leg must have rubbed against the train. You felt relieved that the only injury he got was an abrasion. Kissing him again, you hugged him, too. A warning to be more careful came from you as Ingo simply allowed himself to enjoy your warmth for a moment.

▽Emmet△

○ You could tell he was hiding something as he entered the apartment without a coat on and hiding his left arm behind his back. Emmet's face was frozen with a stiff grin, while his eyes were more like a doll's own. He waved at you with his right hand, not daring to say a word. Your suspicions were sky-high as you tried to glance at his hidden arm. He simply would not let you, however, making you shoot a light glare at him. His grin became nervous. Eventually, the charade grew tiresome, and you grabbed his arm to see what he did. You gasped at the sight of red staining his white shirt.

○ “Darling!” he whined as you gently pulled his arm forward. A long incision like cut ran up his forearm. You rushed him to the bathroom instantly. The first aid kit was dug out of the cabinet and placed down. A towel was wrapped around his arm to stop some remaining bleeding as you gave him a harsh look. It did not seem to be that deep, but its length had you mildly concerned. Emmet turned his face away from you, smile dropping. “I am Emmet,” he said, “And I am not a child.”

○ He felt embarrassed to need his partner to tend to his cut. It was not uncommon for Ingo to still try to provide care for him whenever he got injured around him. The long nagging sessions had him worried that he was in for a similar thing with you. Still, you dutifully worked to stop any bleeding before washing the wound, mindful of his quiet hisses and flinches from the hydrogen peroxide coming into contact with his wound. A quick application of a topical ointment and the embarrassment faded. Your worried expression finally broke him. Another reason he did not want to show you.

○ A gauze wrapping was wrapped around his arm as he was realised from your first aid care. Emmet was silent, unsure what to say. You sighed and caught him off guard. A light peck to his bandaged arm made his heart race. “Emmy,” you called him by his nickname so sweetly, “What happened? Please, tell me. I don't like seeing you hurt like that.” His arms came around you tightly, ignoring the dull pain in his arm. Oh, he felt so bad! His darling was worried about him.

○ “I am verrrry sorry,” he cooed sweetly and nuzzled his nose against your own, “Haxorus was practising a move. I did not follow the rules, and I was standing too close. She accidentally cut my arm.” You gasped. Poor Emmet and Haxorus. She undoubtedly felt bad for injuring one of her trainers, while Emmet had to nervously pretend he was fine. Thankfully, everything ended up fine, but you chided him about hiding things like that from you. The lectures were inescapable, the younger twin came to accept.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ You observed the man carefully as he entered your home late in the evening. There was nothing that uncommon. He slipped his shoes off and walked in to greet you. His face was its usual stoicism, while his body language was the normal stiffness to be expected from Cyrus. No, what made you curious was how he was walking. It was not his trained stride and paces. They were shallow and uncomfortable. You lead him to the couch, where you proceeded to catch him unaware as you rolled up on of his pant legs. There, right at his knee, was the answer to your question. A darkening bruise with small litters of abrasions, almost like a galaxy against his pale skin.

☄️ “... Beloved,” he spoke quietly, “This is nothing for you to concern yourself over.” You shook your head and rushed away into the bathroom to grab the first aid kit and a wash cloth. You rolled up his other pant legs upon your return to confirm your suspicions. Both of his knees were in the same state. You ticked your tongue as you washed the area with the wetted cloth. Cyrus actually flinched at the unfortunate sensitivity in the area. Any dried blood from the abrasions was wiped away.

☄️ The Galactic Boss felt mildly uncomfortable about the whole situation. His goal had been to handle this himself, yet here you were being able to read him too well. Your gentle hands moved carefully as you blew on the wet areas to dry them. Why had you even bothered with concern? Cyrus would not be so foolish to let a serious injury go untreated. A bruise was not anything for you or himself to be concerned over. His heart raced when you placed the cloth down on the table and cupped his cheek.

☄️ “How did that happen?” you asked him softly, “It clearly was hurting you to walk. Please don't exert yourself more than you have to. I hate seeing you in pain.” Shame burned his chest. You would draw such visceral human emotion out from the void where his spirit should have been. His hand came to rest over yours. Must you worry about him? You leaned down to touch your forehead against his. Clearly, you did want an answer and were not going to be satisfied until you had it.

☄️ “I… I was exploring Mt. Coronet,” he explained with carefully chosen words, “I simply had failed to observe the uneven terrain and fell. I can assure you that the pain is barely noticeable.” You pouted to him. A light kiss was pecked to his lips as you sat down beside him. Your side was pressed against his as you hummed. He swallowed as you asked for more information about what he was doing at Mt. Coronet. A curse, he felt. You were a curse. He decided to explain his “new” fascination with Sinnohan mythology. (His knees felt strangely better after you had cared for them, but he would never admit it to himself.)

💫Volo📜

⭐️ You nearly panicked at the sight of the blond approaching you. A stick stuck through his carefully tied back bun, while dirt and foliage stuck to his clothing. You rushed him into your shared home quickly. Instantly, you had him strip from his clothing to look over his body. You could feel your breath hitch at the sight of his leg. You used a cloth to quickly apply pressure to the bleeding wound. Its jagged shape reflects whatever had just happened to him.

⭐️ “… I fell,” he explained simply, clearly not in top much of a talking mood with his injury. You could only wonder what height he fell from, while feeling grateful that his injuries outside his bleeding leg laceration seemed to just be bruising. You carefully check to see if the bleeding stopped. It thankfully had, and you quickly drew some water out from your bucket to run over the wonder. A shudder left you when rocky debris came out from the wound. You would not say he did not deserve it, but you did care for him enough to not want to see him like this.

⭐️ Volo felt a bit smug that he had you so concerned about him. Since everything had happened, he wondered if you still truly cared for him. His unfortunate accident today proved to be beneficial to his person curiosity. Your hands gently felt over his exposed skin, searching for any more injuries after finishing bandaging the wound to his leg. A dark memory, long repressed, resurfaced in his mind of a woman who resembled him watching as he tended to his own wound at a more tender age. He closed his eyes and forced it away. That did not matter. Not when his perfect world could still be brought to fruition; not when he had you so foolishly worried about him.

⭐️ When you finished looking over him and decided there was nothing else of concern, you unexpectedly hugged him. The tightness of the embrace nearly was enough to press against the bruises that littered his body. “Please, be more careful, Volo,” you begged in him a whisper, “I don't want to lose you…” His grin could only get bigger. The pain was ignored as he returned the affection. Perfect. You truly did love him, too. A light peck to his temple did draw an unwanted flutter of his heart.

⭐️ “Believe me, it was not my intention at all to fall from the cliff,” he sighed at the memory of what had got him in this state, “An enraged alpha Golem had it in him to attack me before I could call out Lucario.” His annoyance about the aggressive pokemon was apparent. If anything was going to kill him before he accomplished his goals, it was not going to be a wild pokemon. He moved to cup your cheek and look into your eyes. “Thank you for tending to my wounds,” Volo spoke with uncommon genuineness, “I'm grateful you decided to come to my side.” You felt delighted by his words and pressed a kiss to his lips.

💼Larry🏢

🍙 It was a slight shock to see Larry in such a precarious state. He walked into the apartment and dropped his suitcase before quickly sliding off his shoes. His pace was a rare, quick one as he tried to rush off to the bathroom. You followed behind him in concern. The businessman sighed as you looked over him. He was clearly in pain as his neutral, uninterested expression twisted in pain. You saw an obvious stain on his grey shirt. Instantly, your hands worked to remove his suit jacket and shirt. You grimaced at what lay underneath.

🍙 Larry looked away from you in soke form of embarrassment as you observed the fiercely irritated skin on his chest. A burn. You quickly wet a wash cloth with cold water and pressed it to the afflicted area. A hiss came from the man, but he allowed you to tend to his injury. “... I'm sorry,” he mumbled out, “I planned on doing this myself. You really don't have to.” You look at him with a frown. He went silent.

🍙 He supposed it was not so bad to have you care for his burn. It was in an awkward place for him to observe and care for, so you were probably the best person for the job. He sighed as your gentle hands held the cloth to his chest. The stinging pain was subsided temporarily. Your worried eyes made his heart race, however. Why would you even bother fretting over someone like him? There was nothing special or interesting about him. How he even got you as his partner was truly beyond him. When you removed the cloth after a few minutes, he watched as you pulled out an aloe lotion from under the cabinet and rubbed it on the damaged skin.

🍙 As you finished by applying a loose bandage to the area, he sighed. Before he could thank you, however, you cupped his cheeks in your hand and looked into his tired eyes. He swallowed. “Are you okay, Larry?” you asked him softly, “How did that happen? I don't think I've ever seen your clothes with a stain like that.” His eyes broke from yours. You really knew how to make his disinterested facade fade. You nuzzled your nose against his, and his mouth nearly hung open.

🍙 “When I was walking to the office, someone bumped into me and my coffee spilled on to me,” he sighed, “I came home to clean it up and change. Thanks for helping with it.” You sighed. A light peck to his lips somehow acted a better pick-me-up than the coffee could have ever been. Your hands free his face as he pondered where to go from here. His boss was sure to notice his sudden disappearance, but this had been a situation. Larry had a distinct feeling you were not going to let him return to work, either. Not with his new injury. It was hard to decide who was scarier between you and Geeta.

🕶Guzma💀

□ You watched as the “big, bad boss” tried to make himself small as he entered your home. It was plain as day that he was hiding something. His face was filled with nervousness as he tried to creep by you. What had he done now? You decided to join him in the sneaking as you followed him quietly into the bedroom. His sleeve was pushed up as he sat away from the door. A hiss came from him. You placed a hand on his shoulder and scared him half to death. Guzma turned his grey eyes up to look at you.

□ “Babe, what the fuck,” he asked as he tried to hide his arm. You pouted at him. Really, what had he done? It was not like he did not often get into scraps or fights. Honestly, him hiding it made you more worried than a black eye or busted lip. Was it deep? Bleeding profusely? Your mind wandered. Snatching his arm, you pulled it into your line of sight. “C'mon, stop!” he snapped as you saw what littered his skin. Red scratch marks decorated the arm.

□ Guzma huffed as you got a wash cloth to wipe away the dried blood from the scratches. He felt like some little kid having his mom dote on him rather than the totally scary boss of Team Skull he was. You did not even care about how huffy he was as you tenderly took care of the numerous scratches on his arm. They were certainly less severe than his usual injuries, but you doted on them all the same. A bandage was carefully wrapped around his arm as he sighed. He felt embarrassed that this had happened at all.

□ “Guzma,” you said firmly, “What did you do?” You cupped his cheeks and pressed them together, really making him feel like a child. His frown was intense, but his glare no longer had any effect on you. Big, bad Guzma had already been observed by you to be secretly way too soft to be anything near a threat. He bit his tongue. It was completely humiliating to tell you what had happened. Your pressing intensified.

□ “I… I was trying to mess with Nanu's Meowths,” he admitted shamefully, “They, uh, fought back.” You freed his cheeks from your hold to let out a laugh. Yeah, that would explain it and why he tried to hide it. Honestly, the Meowths were just the first of it. The Kahuna would not be happy to learn that Guzma had upset his precious felines. Pressing a kiss to his lips, you hugged him tightly, too. Guzma felt a bit more relieved to have told you but utterly deflated by your laughter. Then again, he would admit it was a bit funny that he had come to you with worse injuries but tried to hide cat scratches. Well, he enjoyed the hug and kiss, at least.

[greengirllover]

this is my comprehensive guide to acne

my qualifications: years ago i had a guy take a picture of me and play connect the dots on my face (it was actually pretty funny and i made fun of him too bc he was 5’1 so it’s okay)

first of all don’t pop ur pimples for the love of god, i know everyone says that but what could likely happen is a short term problem can turn into a long term problem with scarring and damage to the skin barrier due to trauma to that surface layer of the skin, instead use things like pimple patches, most brands that make those cute colorful ones don’t really stick to the skin and so they are practically useless, a pimple patch is supposed to mimic a hydrocolloid bandage which draws liquid out of a wound, if the patch isn’t sticking well to the skin because you didn’t clean the area of skin first or the patch just isn’t very high quality again it is going to be practically useless, also micro dart patches are great, the micro darts go into the pimple and so not only are u drawing out the sebum, u are also putting whatever acne fighting substance into that pimple, my favorite brand for these is hero cosmetics, u can also use a hot/cold compress on the pimple to draw it to a head which will help ur products work better on that pimple

now for the nerdy stuff, chemical exfoliants are ideal at least for me because they aren’t physically abrasive like a scrub which again can cause trauma to the skin and then possible scarring, the ingredients that u want to look for that will chemically exfoliate the skin and help acne are benzoyl peroxide, salicylic acid, glycolic acid and others, u don’t need expensive products, pay attention to the ingredients and find one without fragrance and has the ingredients you want, and for acne scarring other than the ones i mentioned which are more focused on helping acne but also can help scarring are vitamin c, niacinamide, azelaic acid, vitamin a and others, my favorites are panoxyl products with benzoyl peroxide, and ordinary has some good things for glycolic acid and others

now the way u treat ur body can have a big impact on ur skin, i won’t tell u to drink water bc i think someone might stab me for it and i wouldn’t blame them but rlly it won’t hurt, fueling ur body and having a balanced diet can be huge, this doesn’t mean cutting things out for the most part it means adding things in like healthy fats and protein, this can help balance hormones which are huge factors in acne, also if u have a period u can consider going on birth control, again it can rlly help balance ur hormones and talk to ur doctor about one that specifically has been known to help acne, now if u can go to see a derm it’s a good choice, they can prescribe treatments at a higher concentration than u can get over the counter, they can also give u things like antibiotics which can be very beneficial and aren’t likely to have side effects, but they might recommend things like accutane and spirolactone, these are more likely to have side effects and u mostly can’t get anything like it without a dermatologists permission, this will likely mean blood tests, pregnancy tests and regular visits to check up on ur overall health because they can be very abrasive treatments

finally, wearing sunscreen and keeping ur skin moisturized are going to be huge, sun exposure can worsen acne scarring and most of these treatments are very drying so on top of sun exposure ur skin is also constantly being dried out, if u are nervous about breaking out from a sunscreen then do ur research on the ingredients and others experiences, also u can get tinted sunscreen or bb cream with SPF in it so that u can have some coverage of acne or scaring while also protecting ur skin from further damage

i’m sure i missed some things so if u have questions i’ll do my best to answer, i know how frustrating this can be which is why i made this post, remember that the way that u look is the least important thing about u and that u will never see urself the way others see u, it isn’t even close to as big of a deal as we think it is just like any other physical insecurity

[hollideon]

soothing tongue — knifeplay, aftercare, that robot has A Thing for blood

///

warm, wet, a bit abrasive. stinging, but in a comforting way. Bree's synthetic tongue glides slow across the open wounds on your back; short and shallow slices she herself left. you can't help but gasp and writhe, just a little bit, under the sensation.

"stop squirming, i need to make sure they're cleaned properly." firm, but still a bit teasing.

"are you sure this is part of it or do you secretly run on blood?" you ask, alternating between gasps and giggles.

sitting on the bed behind you, she tends to your back. you shudder as her razor-sharp metal talons play across your sliced-up skin. leftover combat hardware, she'd said. tame compared to the stuff they didn't let her keep. Bree — short for Breach and Clear, you've learned — was a field synth, a purpose-made combat android. lithe but still tall and imposing. metal and silicon and carbon fiber, she makes you feel especially fragile.

"my hardware doesn't, but it does give me something to get out of bed for." she says this jokingly, but you can hear the underlying hunger in her artificial voice. her tongue returns to your wounds and you gasp as the abrasive surface pulls on the edges of a particularly cruel cut. she slows herself though, caressing the aggravated wound with slow, gentle licks. the pain melts away.

"y-yeah but why do you have to lick them? they make you with antibacterial spit? sorry if that's um, a weird question."

her tongue pulls away, ever so slowly. "not at all, it's just like show and tell." she winks, like the iris of a camera. "it's simple really, just flush out the synthetic saliva and put a canister of antibacterial solution in instead."

"hehe, sounds like you've done this before."

"once or twice. i scare most humans off... and y'know, other synths don't bleed." she doesn't bother to hide the hunger in her voice now. Bree's tongue having not returned to your cuts, you turn your head to look up, behind you. even seated she looms above there, angular metal body glinting in the low light. the red glow of her eyes bore into you. tall and inhuman. a literal weapon. some part of your brain posits that this view of her is probably the last thing a lot of people ever saw.

"m-more for me," you stutter out, forcing a chuckle in an attempt to purge that moment of genuine fear from your mind.

"oh?~ you want more, do you?" her voice practically drips with sadism and those claws again dance ever so lightly down your sensitive back.

"pleeeease," you can't help but whine.

"cute, but you've had enough for today. besides," she says with another antibacterial lick, "i'm nearly done cleaning you up."

you continue melt under the care of her tongue, taking its time to give each and every cut and scratch the care it needs. stinging and soothing. so warm. though it felt strange at first, now you can't imagine a greater comfort.

a short time later, you and Bree sit together on your apartment's little balcony, your wounds properly cleaned and bandaged. the night air is cold — you share a blanket, though she doesn't need it.

[hypermascbishounen]

So around the end of October last year, I managed to scratch my eye with plastic fibers while putting on a costume wig(ruining my plans for colored contacts). Turns out that if your eye gets a surface abrasion in just the right way, it can chronically reopen by sticking to your own eyelid as it heals. This sucks.

Now, the wig was just for a generic vampire costume, but, it was absolutely Juste Belmont's hair, lol. I had gotten back into Castlevania, and recently completed Harmony of Dissonance. I also carved a Juste pumpkin, which you can see if you search for it in my blog. I figured that while I didn't have the time/money for a cosplay, I could put the wig towards one in the future.

The eye scratch has remained a reopening pain in the face for almost an entire year. I have been using special eye drops and ointments, visiting the eye dr almost every month since, and the last two weeks I had a contact bandaged placed while aggressively applying antibiotics and lubricating drops. I just went to the dr today, to have the bandage removed, and check the healing.

While looking at my injured eye (which according to the dr appears healed but still irritated), he found the first sign of a rare, and typically asymptomatic eye disease, that can cause blindness. Because i've been going to the eye dr every single month, he had consistent data to notice a small jump in pressure and the barest visual start of the disease onset. It has absolutely nothing to do with the eye scratch.

(TIL the pigment on the back of your iris can flake off like cheap paint and start clogging your eye drains, until you effectively develop glaucoma, and the intraocular pressure build up starts destroying your optic nerve. We do not know why this happens lol)

But bc he literally caught it instantly, all that happens is I get regularly monitored for progression, and if/when it starts they can do a small outpatient procedure that heat lasers my eye drains into being wide enough for pigment to pass through. I probably won't even need eye drops.

This has put me in the surreal position of "Wow, good thing I had an unhealing eye scratch from a cosplay injury for a whole year, or I would have literally gone blind."

(I 100% wouldn't notice my mildly shitty vision getting worse until it was already too late lol)

In conclusion, hyperfixating on Castlevania saved my eyesight, and my guardian angel probably looks like either Juste Belmont, or Maxim Kischine hitting me in the face.

[wild-karrde]

Hi Karrde! Might be a little late but congratulations on the 400, that's an awesome thing to celebrate over!

If there's still time and you're willing: can I have a "I'll stay for as long as you let me" and "Stay forever then." with Tech?

HELLO ANON! Thank you for the kind words! And you were not late at all. If anything, I am late as I'm slowly poking away at these (but it's the holidays, we're NOT putting pressure on ourselves. IT'S ALL GOOD). This one got super soft on me, and I see an emerging theme between the last two ficlets I've written: I just want our boys to rest. I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE AND THANK YOU AGAIN!

Pairings: Tech x GN!Reader

Rating: M (implied sexual content, nudity, showering together)

“Hello, darling.”

Your heart flutters as his tall, thin silhouette materializes in the doorway of your apartment, helmet in hand. You put down your datapad, sweeping him into an embrace. His arms wrap around you, and you bury your nose in his chest, inhaling deeply. He smells like blaster smoke, sweat, and the soap you bought him last time he was on Coruscant. Tech was never one to allow himself even small indulgences, not seeing the practicality in it, so you’d made a habit of gifting him small luxuries here and there. 

“Missed you,” you whisper. 

“And I you.” 

You take his helmet from him, setting it on the table to be cleaned eventually. There are a few more scuffs and dirt streaks than normal. Tech carefully steps out of his boots, leaving them by the door so as not to dirty your floor. You help him remove the rest of his armor, which you’ll meticulously clean in the way he showed you later. 

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” he replies, giving you a small smile. 

You note he’s carefully stripping out of the top of his undersuit, wincing slightly. 

“Are you hurt?” 

“Just a few abrasions.” 

You nod, knowing he’s downplaying it but not arguing with him. You know making a fuss won’t change the number of injuries he has, nor the likelihood that he’ll sustain more like them. “Sit down, I’ll bring you some food and get the medkit.” 

He’d only given you a few hours notice, so the best you could scrounge up was leftover stir-fry from the night before and some cookies, but Tech devours it as though it were a gourmet meal. While he eats, you carefully clean and bandage his wounds. You know he could do this himself, but he’s always told you that you do a better job. You’re not certain that’s true, but you never have called him out on it. It’s nice to have him appreciate your medical skill, and you’re more than glad to put it to use on him. 

You’d met in the med ward here on Coruscant. He was escorting his much larger brother in after a mishap with a faulty explosive. Wrecker had been lucky, only burning his palms and breaking a finger. Tech had stated he’d normally have dealt with it himself, but they hadn’t restocked their medical supplies yet, and most of the other clone medical centers were full of more serious injuries at the moment. You’d assured him it wasn’t a problem. 

At first, you’d been annoyed at how he’d hovered over your shoulder, watching you carefully as you cleaned and bandaged Wrecker’s hands. When you’d gone to grab another roll of gauze, he’d followed you, and you’d finally whirled on him, allowing your annoyance to get the best of you. 

“Do you think I can’t do my job without your supervision?” you’d snapped. 

“I apologize if I gave you that impression. My presence was more intended to calm Wrecker. He often looks to me to determine if an injury is worse than it looks. I was hoping that by watching you closely and showing no alarm, it would calm him down.” He picked at his glove a little sheepishly, and you’d ducked your head in embarrassment. 

“I… I’m sorry. I thought-”

“I understand how you could come to that conclusion,” he assured you. “I’m sure you noted the injury on the side of his head. When he sustained that, it was severely downplayed by the civilian medic that treated him. The medic then made him feel as though he were overreacting and exaggerating his pain levels, but the damage was quite severe, and that instance bred a sort of mistrust for medical professionals that aren’t me.” 

You nodded, reaching for the gauze. “I’m sorry he went through that. No one deserves to have their pain downplayed like that.”

He smiled at you. “I agree.”

You moved to step past him, but he hesitantly laid a hand on your arm. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s admirable how you care for him. Many consider us to be expendable, but it’s apparent how attentive you are and how you’re paying careful attention to his reactions and pain. I know he appreciates it. As do I.” 

Your face flushed with heat, and you returned his smile. “Of course.” 

You’d completed your work on Wrecker, suddenly noting that the large clone occasionally shot his brother a nervous look as he watched over your shoulder, and Tech would give him a reassuring nod when he caught his eye. It was so subtle you’d have never noticed it without Tech telling you, but now that you knew, all you wanted to do was wrap them both in a hug. After you’d completed bandaging Wrecker and he’d mumbled his thanks, Tech had asked you to dinner under the pretense of learning about the technique you’d used when splinting the broken finger, but you both knew that was a bold-faced lie. 

You’d never minded. 

Now, you gently applied bacta to a blaster burn on his shoulder, smoothing the gel over the damaged skin there. Tech hissed slightly between clenched teeth. You pause, whipping out your penlight to look more closely at the wound, worried you’ve missed something. Tech chuckles quietly as he watches you over his shoulder, immediately knowing what you’re thinking. “The bacta was just colder than I expected. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Better to be certain.” 

“One of the things I love about you.” 

You smile, giving the burn one last cursory look before carefully bandaging it, placing a light kiss next to it when you are done. He catches your hand in his as you stride past him to replace your supplies, kissing the back of your knuckles. 

“Thank you, darling.”

“Of course, my love,” you reply, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead. He leans against you, and you can feel the exhaustion in his muscles. Quickly, you clear his dishes from the table before leading him down the hall to your bedroom. 

You help him shower, gently washing the dirt from his skin and ensuring not to scrub too hard at the fresh bandages peppering his chest, arms, and back. He allows it, watching you without protest as you lather his skin carefully and massage his scalp with shampoo. You know letting someone else take control is a struggle for him, and you appreciate that he’s finally comfortable enough to let his guard down around you, to allow you to take care of him in the way he deserves but will never ask for. 

When you’re both rinsed clean, you stand for a while, your bodies pressed together as the water trickles down your skin. You hope the constant patter of the water on his shoulders is working some of the tension from his muscles and spine as he presses chaste kisses along your neck and shoulders, finally allowing his chin to rest there, his arms wrapped around your torso. 

“I love you very much,” he whispers. 

“And I love you,” you reply. Those three words had always come easy to the two of you, neither of you feeling the need to choose a “right” time to express your affections. It had just come out of him one night as you sat next to each other on your couch, and you’d never hesitated in saying it back. You and Tech both had discussed early on that you were fine with being upfront about your emotions and feelings. War didn’t allow for the luxury of beating around the bush when it came to important things being said. 

You feel him sag against you slightly, and you take that as your cue to retrieve the fluffiest towel you own, helping him dry off before leading him to bed. 

The two of you slip under the sheets together, him pulling you close so that your back is pressed against his chest. One arm slips under your neck, the other wrapping around your waist. You resist the heat swirling in your belly, knowing he needs rest right now and to heal. If he’s still here in the morning, you know there’ll be time for other activities, but for right now, you just want him to sleep peacefully next to you without any expectations beyond that. 

“Do you know how long you can stay?” you ask, knowing he probably doesn’t have a definitive answer. 

“I’ll stay for as long as you let me.”

You reach down, interlacing your fingers with his and pulling his hand up to your lips, brushing his knuckles with a kiss. “Stay forever then,” you whisper.

You both know it’s impossible, that eventually his comm will go off and he’ll be whisked away once more on some mission he can’t tell you about on some world you’ll likely never visit. But it’s nice to pretend, if only for a few moments. As pragmatic as Tech is, he allows himself the indulgence this once, nuzzling against the back of your neck as he breathes you in. 

“I just may.”

Thanks for participating in my 400 Follower Celebration!

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @gjrain20-starwars @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @extrahotpixels @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @dnxgma @meekaielmyerhs99 @kaminocasey @moonstrider9904 @teletraan-meets-jarvis @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @sleepingsun501 @arctrooper69

[eiirisworkshop]

Risk and Reunion

An Old Guard oneshot Also available to read on Ao3 here.

~

“I fold.” Andy tossed a hand of tarot cards onto the battered steamer trunk serving as a coffee table in the cramped little flat the team was holed up in. She dragged herself off the couch with a groan and snarled a long string of gravelly fricatives as she limped her way to the galley kitchen.

Nicky, Joe, and Nile exchanged glances around the steamer trunk.

“Were those actual curse words,” Nile asked quietly, “or is she just makin' noises at this point?”

“Curse words,” Nicky and Joe said as one.

“In what language ?”

Nicky shrugged and reached across the trunk to examine the cards Andy had discarded.

“You know you're allowed to ask for help, right?” Joe called.

Andy ducked down to glare through the serving hatch while she filled the kettle. “I can make my own damn cup of tea.”

“Of course you can.” Joe levered himself up and tossed down his own cards. “But you don't have to.” He went to the kitchen, took the kettle from Andy, set it on the stove. “C'mon, asshole.” He hefted Andy over his shoulder, carried her back to the other room, and dumped her gently on the couch, where she sat, arms crossed and pouting.

“You'll heal up faster if you keep off your feet,” Nile said reasonably.

“Yeah, yeah.” Andy reached down to scratch under her ankle brace and rub at the bandages around her knee where they weren't covering tender oozy scabs. “This would take you, what, two seconds?”

Nicky made a noncommittal noise. “I don't know, you lost a lot of skin. I'd give it three seconds, maybe four.”

She threw a couch pillow at him, but she was grinning. “Who won the hand, anyway?”

“Well, I folded too, so.” Joe shrugged.

Nicky and Nile looked at each other the each showed their cards.

“Oh, for fucks sake!” Nile flopped flat on the floor.

“I told you, he counts!” Joe laughed.

“I don't!” Nicky raked the pot of mismatched currencies, tchotchkes, and snackfoods towards himself. “I really don't.”

“You don't try to,” Andy corrected. Nicky shrugged amicably.  Andy chuckled, then sighed.  “My leg fucking hurts.  And it itches .  The scabs itch, the bandages itch, the brace itches—”

“That last one would be solved if you’d wear a sock,” Joe pointed out.

Andy grumbled.  The kettle whistled and Joe went to tend to it.  Nile rolled upright from the floor.  “Do you want more painkillers?”

“Not unless you’ve got some laudanum lying around.”

Nicky rolled his eyes, stretched to grab the pharmacy bag shoved into the corner, and threw a bottle of ibuprofen at her.   While she cracked open the bottle despite her protestation, he got up to join her on the couch.  “Here, let me see.”

She put her legs across his lap and he started carefully unwinding the bandages from around her knee.  She hissed through her teeth when the gauze came off her abrasions.  Joe handed her a mug dangling a teabag string and asked.  “How's it looking?”

“Gross,” Nicky said, examining the yellowish crusty scabs and splotchy bruises.  “But better.  The bruises are uglier but that’s just because they’re coming up from deep in the skin.”  He gently touched the margin of the injury and Andy hissed again.  Nicky quickly withdrew.  “Still tender?”

“You fuckin’ think?”  Andy took a long, hopefully soothing sip of tea.

Nicky wiggles his fingers toward the pharmacy bag.  “Hand me the lidocaine?”

Nile passed it to him.  Nicky looked to Andy.  “Shall I do the honors or do you want to do it yourself?”

“Fuck me up,” Andy mumbled into her tea.  She grimaced as Nicky slathered her knee in anesthetic.  “Pain is exhausting .  And I will be bitching about this for however long it takes to heal.”

“We figured,” Joe teased.

“Honestly, though….”  Nile stacked up the tarot deck and started shuffling.  “I think you’re handling all this really well.  I got the flu a few times as a kid, then I didn’t for years , but then I came down with it again and I bitched so much because I was mad I had to deal with that shit again.  You hadn’t had a sustained injury in how many thousand years?  Then you got fuckin’ stabbed and didn’t even let on.  Far as I care, you’ve more than earned your bitching.”

Andy smiled a little.  “Thanks.”

Joe scratched at the back of his curls.  “I’m just impressed you didn’t break any bones.  Dive like that, you definitely could have.”

“True,” Andy agreed.

Nicky recapped the lidocaine.  “If you’ll stay on this godforsaken sofa you can leave it unwrapped for a while, let it breathe.”

“And the three of you will just wait on me hand and foot while I sit on my ass?”

“Sure, just get back into goddess mode,” Nile half-joked.

Andy smacked the side of the couch, laughing.  “That was a lot of good sex and better food, and even then I got up off my ass!”

Nicky rolled his eyes, carefully got up from under Andy’s legs, and resumed his spot on the floor.  “Nile, deal another hand.”

“No.”  She shook her head.  “We’re doing something else.  You already cleared me out of fruit leather, you shark.”

Andy leaned back, eyes closed, mug of tea pressed to her chest.  “Isn’t there a Risk board in this trunk?  That’ll keep me on my ass for a few hours.”

About an hour into Risk, Joe had conquered all of Europe. 

“See, this is what happens if things go slightly differently when you and I meet,” he said, gesturing between himself and Nicky as he repositioned various game pieces.

Nicky chewed thoughtfully on some fruit leather.  “I really can’t say if I think that would have gone better or worse.”

“If nothing else,” Andy said, “the Protestants would’ve been…different.”

Joe snorted.

“You can all write the next best selling alternate history novel later,” Nile said.  “Andy, it’s your t—”  She broke off, her attention diverted by her phone ringing.  She looked at it and several emotions passed over her face before schooling her expression into something decidedly blank.  “It’s Booker.”

There was a heartbeat of tense stillness, then Joe jabbed a finger at the phone still ringing in Nile’s hand.  “No.  He doesn’t get to do that.  He knows the terms.  If he calls back in a decade, maybe we’ll think about picking up.”

Nile declined the call and set her phone down but the tension only barely eased.  “Why would he try to call me, though, not one of you guys?”

Andy scratched gingerly at the edge of a scab.  “You’re the least invested in his banishment and he knows it.”

Nile pressed her lips into a line and nodded.  Then her phone started ringing again.  They all stared at it.

Nicky looked to Andy.  “...would he call twice without a good reason?”

Andy drummed her fingers and took a breath.  “Answer it.  If he doesn’t have a credible nuke threat or something, block the number.”

“Right.”  Nile thumbed her phone open and put it on speaker.  No one said anything.

After a moment, a deep inhale crackled over the line, then, “Andromache,” Booker said, all the weight of the full name in his voice, “your wife broke into my house.”

Andy sat up so quickly she nearly launched herself off the couch, banges her knee, and swore loudly.

“Andy…?”  Booker asked.

“Say more,” Andy ordered.

“She’s terrifying,” Booker said almost lightly.  “Did you fall for her because she’s your type, or is that your type because she’s like that?”

Nile smacked Joe’s arm to get him to stop staring in mutual incredulity at Nicky and mouthed, “ Quynh? ”

He nodded.  “Quynh.”

“To be fair,” Nicky murmured, “Andy has had several wives.”

Ignoring their sidebar, Andy demanded, “Is she with you?”

“Yup.”  There was rustling on the line, then, “Say hello to Andy.”

“Hello, Andromache,” a lilted, even, woman’s voice said.

Andy sandk slowly back into the couch, one hand over her mouth, silent tears beginning to trace tracks down her face.  “Book, I think the terms of your exile just changed,” she said after a moment.  “Quynh, I—I’ll talk to you soon.  We’re going to have to call you back.”  

She motioned for Nile to end the call.

~

A nondescript sedan pulled into the field, parked a couple dozen paces away, and cut its engine.  Andy stood up from where she was sitting on the open hatchback of their SUV and watched, eagle eyed, as only the passenger door of the sedan opened and a dark haired woman stepped out.  The woman, Quynh , looked up and met Andy’s eye.  Heart pounding, Andy took one limping step towards her, then another.  Quynh started to move towards her as well, then she noticed the limp, her face fell, and she moved faster.

“Andromache,” she said with quiet horror, catching Andy’s arms and bracing her.

“I’m fine,” Andy assured quickly.  “Just…a little banged up.”

Quynh set her mouth and glanced down at Andy’s leg.

“I’m fine ,” Andy said again, voice tight.

Quynh nodded a little, then gave Andy a shake.  “You left.”

“I know.”

“You gave up.”

“I lost hope.”  Andy gave a wet little half-laugh.  She reached to lay her hand on Quynh’s cheek, giving her plenty of time to block the touch or pull away, but she didn’t.  Andy leaned their foreheads together and for a long moment they stood there, eyes closed, just breathing, before Quynh pulled them closer into an embrace.

By the time they released each other, the rest of the non-exiled guard had joined them and Booker had gotten out to lean on the car.  Quynh hugged Joe tightly, then Nicky while Joe moved to let Andy lean on him, then she turned to Nile and took her hands.  “It’s good to meet you, Nile.”

“It’s good to meet you, too.”

“Let’s sit,” Joe suggested, nodding toward the SUV.

As they moved to do so, Booker called uncertainly after them, “Should I go now, or…?”

“Wait,” Andy called back.  “We…haven’t agreed on any changes.”

Booker nodded once, flashed a thumbs up, and dropped heavily back into the driver's seat of the sedan.

“Did he tell you what happened?” Nicky asked quietly.  

Quynh nodded.  “Not everything, I’m sure, but yes.”

Andy settled herself on the lip of the trunk and pulled her leg up, grimacing as the movement stretched her scabs and made her tendons creaked.  “He betrayed us, all of us, and there have to be consequences, but you coming back—”  She touched Quynh’s face again and Quynh took her hand.  “We’re not sure how that changes the situation.  How did you even find him?”

“We dream about each other,” Nile said quietly.

Quynh nodded.  “The new ones.  I see when they die.  You,” she looked to Nile, “die seldom.  He dies often.  I saw him a lot, could see he was in one place.”

Joe was frowning.  “How often is often ?”

“Every few days.  He’d fall, or choke, or queal in the bath and drown.”  She shot an almost accusatory look toward the sedan.

Nile followed her gaze.  “Has he been drinking today?”

“Yes.”

“Andy,” Nile began—Andy started to shake her head but Nile continued over whatever she was going to say.  “Look, I get the whole ‘there have to be consequences' thing, but he did what he did because he’s depressed as hell, right? Man’s desperate to escape, finds what he thinks is a way out, makes some really shit decisions. And yeah, he’s gotta own what he fucked up, but from the sound of it, exiling him is only making the root problem worse, making him more likely to make even shittier decisions, not less.”

“He’s always been an alcoholic,” Nicky muttered.

“Yeah, I noticed, but when I met him he was a functional one,” Nile countered.  “I don’t really give a shit if he drinks too much, his liver will heal itself, but just thinking practically, what happens if he drives away today, and he hits somebody ‘cause he's driving drunk, and they die and stay dead while he crawls out of a mangled car and is fine in five minutes?”

Joe rubbed at his forehead, nose crinkling in displeasure.  “He has yet another thing to be guilty for, and a million questions get raised as to how he’s fine.  Even if no one sees him, they’d find the empty car.”

“Exactly,” Nile said.  “I have seen people get stuck in this kinda loop of you’re desperate, so you do wrong, so you get punished and it makes you more desperate.  Growing up in a black neighborhood in Chicago, I’ve seen it way too much.  I didn’t love the idea of exiling him from the start, but I’m telling you now, I think you all made the wrong call.  ‘Consequences’ doesn’t have to mean punishment, and what he needs is help.”

Quynh gave Nile an evaluating look.  “However much worth my opinion has to you anymore, I think she’s right, and very wise.”

Booker sat in silence for ten, maybe fifteen minutes, before he put the key in the ignition and smacked the radio on.  He found a station that was halfway bearable, leaned his seat back, and settled in to wait for the others to debate his fate again .  

A knock at his window brought him back to the present.  It was Nicky, standing next to the car, face closed, eyes stormy, but shoulders relaxed, hand in his pocket.  Unhappy, but unthreatening.  “Get out.”

Booker did as told.

“You’re out of exile and under house arrest instead.  We’re moving safehouses—where we’ve been staying barely fits four, it won’t fit six.  Right now you have two options: take a sobriety test, or go ahead and get in the back and let me drive.”

For a moment, Booker felt like the tendons in his knees had been cut.  He nodded, took a breath, scrubbed a hand under his nose, and gestured toward the back door.  “I’ll just…yeah.”

Nicky got in the front and started the engine while Booker got into the back and they followed the SUV out of the field.

“Thank you,” Booker said quietly.

“Don’t,” Nicky said sharply.  “Don’t thank me, thank Nile.  You are not forgiven yet.”

Booker clasped his hands in his lap.  “I understand.”

[broomstickart]

The Piece of Violence

Part 1: Dream Come True

You and Ghost are separated from the group and make it to a safe house. He bandages your wounds and tells you to sleep. Where he then catches you talking in our sleep in which you may have been having a seggy dream including none other than Ghost himself.

CW: Unprotected P In V sex, fingering, general debauchery, pet names if you're not into that (sweetheart, love, darling), kind of rough, he puts his fingers in your mouth idk

3k words

No use of y/n

I don't know what happened. One second, we were making our way through the city then the next a rain of bullets, like that I got separated. Ghost found me quickly, assessing any damage I may have taken. Wrapping a makeshift tourniquet around my leg until he could see the extent of the wound on my upper thigh.

Shit, I hadn't even realized I had been hit, "I'm sorry sir."

He didn't say anything which wasn't out of the ordinary but the look in his eyes was. He seemed, I have to be wrong, stressed? Worried maybe. That was cause for concern.

He hoisted me up taking most of my weight with ease.

"I can walk." I assured him.

He hesitated a moment before releasing me, nodding as I tested my weight on the injured leg.

"See, perfectly fine."

He grumbles something under his breath but then storms ahead. I'm not sure where were going to go or if we can even meet back up with the rest of the team. Regardless I follow, through the back allies until we get to one of the safe houses.

"Sit." He orders, the second the door shuts.

I comply, plopping down on the dingy sofa in the middle of the "living room" if you could call it that. Ghost immediately kneels in front of me and starts poking around the small gash high on my thigh. The image sent my imagination drifting to forbidden places, especially with my Lieutenant. A woman can only do so much. It has been over two months since anyone has come near touching me in even a professional manner. It's like the guys thought I'd crack at the slightest contact. Ghost is the only one of them to even seemed remotely interested in getting to know me when I joined the team a year ago.

He didn't say much but he listened, and paid attention. Maybe that's why I am flustered. I've let myself get too attached. He's my superior I can be thinking of him that way. But the way his hands feel on my thigh sent a shiver through me.

I have to shut my eyes and lean my head on the back rest of the dusty sofa thinking of puppies and rainbows. Mind out of the gutter you idiot.

"Take your pants off." Ghost grumbles.

"What?" my eyes flying open.

Another uncommon emotion flashes across his eyes, amusement.

"I need to dress your wound, considering you have one pair of pants I don't think you want me to cut them off." he responds.

"Yeah, yes, that makes sense." i stutter as he shuffles back to give me space as I shimmy my pants around me knees.

He didn't say anything else had he cleaned the small abrasion. It didn't even need stiches; I don't know why he's taking so much time to clean it. My imagination can't take much more of him between my legs before I get brash. Damnit, and the way he keeps glancing up at me assessing my pain level, which is minimal, is going to tip me over the edge.

He abruptly stands and drops himself into the matching dingy armchair in the corner, "Rest, you need it."

"It was a scratch, I'm fine, sir." I try and argue.

"Rest." He grunts, this time as an order.

Quickly pulling my pants back up I laid back on the sofa "Are we meeting the rest of the team somewhere?"

No response.

"Have you been in contact with them?" I ask again.

Annoyed at my lack of compliance, he crosses his arms over his chest, manspreading even more, if that was possible. My eyes flicked for only a millisecond to what was now at eyelevel with me before looking back up to his face. Where his eyes are already on me.

I cursed myself for getting caught objectifying him. Rolling on my side, in an attempt to avoid any unnecessary eye contact. I could have sworn Ghosts' eyes shifted to what I though was curiosity. I have to be losing my shit here.

I jolt upright, making the muscles in my abdomen ache at the sudden movement. The dream I was immersed in still floating at the edge of my mind. It made my cheeks flush and the ache between my legs unbearable. I can't be dreaming these kinds of things; it was borderline disgusting. My Baptist mother would be ashamed. Running a hand over my face, I trying to think of anything. But the only thing that flashes across my mind is what Ghosts hands were doing in my unconscious delusion.

"Sleep well?" he asks amusement dripping from him.

I snap my head in his direction. Caught off guard by the fact he was awake and by the question. He can't know what I was dreaming about, Ghost may be brilliant at reading people, but he can't see into someone mind.

"Why so quiet now?" He practically purrs, leaning forward bracing his elbows on his knees.

Shit. Mortification washes over me at the recognition that my fatal flaw had finally done me in.

"I was talking in my sleep." I mutter more to myself as a defeated realization.

"Quite a lot actually." He added cocking his head to the side. The hint of amusement still lingering.

All the times I had wished he would speak more because of that intoxicating accent, slipped from my mind. Because right now the last thing I want was for him to keep teasing me about a human reaction. I'm surrounded by a bunch of bulky muscled men all day, I'm going to day dream a little.

Trying to come up with something to say I unfortunately let myself get distracted by the state of him. He still had his mask on, boots and all but the tactical gear was shed on the floor beside him. Leaving his broad chest only covered in a too tight black t shirt. His arms exposed and good god his arms were lovely. I'm doing it again, god damnit I'm a disaster.

"Fuck." I grumble flopping back down on to the stiff sofa.

Ghost laughed, a deep booming chuckle that I've never heard come from him. It made me want to slap him or kiss him, maybe both.

I flung one of the throw pillows at his face "I'm getting some water."

"A cold shower might be nice too I bet." He called after me.

"Shut the fuck up." I barked back at him as I turned into the small kitchen.

Bracing my hands on the counter I attempted to calm myself to the point where I can look at him and not want to jump his bones. I'm failing miserably. The ache between my legs edging on painful.

"You know better than to speak to your superior that way, sweetheart." His voice sounds from behind me.

Now he's using pet names, great. I'm not going to last if he keeps fucking with me like this.

"I'm not in the mood for one of your role play scenarios, Simon." I snap at him, not turning to even look at him. If he gets to call me sweetheart the only logical thing is that I get to use his real name.

He hums, the sound closer behind me than expected. Then his hands come to rest on either side of mine on the counter caging me in. His torso flush against my back as he curls himself around me.

I can hear the blood rushing through my ears as I try and steady my breathing. The feel of him behind me and the feel of what he's working with hard against my back sending goosebumps across my skin.

"Then I'm interested in the scenarios you do have in mind." His accent thick, every word laced with the same feeling coursing through every part of my body. Lust.

Any restraint I had left dissipated as he spoke. After a deep breath I pushed back into him.

His right-hand shooting to my hip, gripping it hard enough to earn a soft whimper from me.

"Say no and I'll stop, okay?" He says firmly nuzzling the side of my neck.

I nod quickly as another pitiful noise escapes me.

"Use your words," He commands, "I need to hear you say it."

"Yes, fuck, yeah okay I got it." The words pour out of me as a plea, and I scramble to turn and face him, but he holds me in place.

Simon didn't need to speak to let me know he was in charge here like he was when you were working. The mere presence of him is commanding, and it only made you wetter that it was the same with situations like this.

His hands find the hem of my shirt and strips it from me. His movements were hurries and rough but with a sense of urgency that truly proved he wants this as much as I do. I was completely naked in front of him in a matter of seconds, still facing that counter. His hands roaming the curves and dips of my body.

Surprisingly, I wasn't self-conscious being so exposed in front of him, he's one of the few people I trust with my life. Not to mention, the way his rough calloused hands danced across my skin sent electricity through me. Setting every nerve on edge.

He's taking his time and I'm growing more antsy by the second, but I suck in a breath when his hand roams lower on my stomach, then lower.

The growling moan that rumbles from deep in his throat the second his hand reaches my cunt, made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention.

"So wet for me already and I've hardly touched you." His voice gravely. His index finger makes agonizingly slow circles around my clit. While his other hand grips the back of my neck pushing my forward bent over the counter.

My hips moved on their own, trying to get more friction. Simon lets out a satisfied hum as obscenities flood from my mouth in a string of pleas and curses. None of which came out coherently.

"Oh, darling you're already a mess." He teases giving me a light but firm smack to my ass "Can't even think straight, can you?"

He was right, hearing him talk so much, made my head mush and his hands on me where the only thing holding me together. His fingers still working at an unbearably slow pace set my skin on fire. That familiar tension coiling low in my stomach.

Simon ground his hips into me from behind, and I groan in frustration when I realized he still had his clothes on.

"Simon," I beg, grinding back into him again "please."

His hands left me only for a second, before he turned me around and lifted me, so my ass now rested on the edge of the counter. He was careful not to bump my, not actually hurt, hurt leg. Finally able to see him again, I noticed he had lifted his mask to rest on the bridge of his nose. He was perfect at lease the little bit of him I could see. Scarred yes, mild stubble, sure, but his full lips and strong jaw were breathtaking.

Simon slowly knelt in front of me like he has earlier tonight. Moving my legs to rest on his broad shoulders and brought his thumb to massage my clit, the sensation almost too much after all the anticipation. The rest of his hand held me firmly in place as. His lips pressing gently to the sensitive skin right above where the bandage wrapped around my upper thigh.

I almost came undone for him right there the guttural moan let out as I tried to control my breathing gave me away.

"You're holding back," he observed a coy smile playing on his lips.

"I want you." I gritted through clenched teeth.

"You have me sweetheart." He says cooly.

"I swear to God Riley if you don't fuck me already, I'm going to stab you-" my threat cut off by Simon's tongue licking a broad stroke across my pussy.

"Hmm, maybe I'll bring my knives next time, love" He groans plunging a finger into without warning. While simultaneously digging his teeth into the skin on the inside of my thigh.

The combination of pain and pleasure rolling through me made my head go fuzzy. His tongue sweeping over the spot soothing the slight sting of his bite. He adds another finger stretching me further. Not painful, but tight, and so full.

The air gets stuck in my throat ripping another strangled moan from me, tension coiling tighter in my stomach.

"That's a good girl," He purrs the timbre in his voice sending me over the edge writhing on his fingers as he began pumping them slowly. Coaxing the pleasure from me dragging and it out until I was a whimpering mess, but he didn't stop. His fingers kept moving, curling inside me hitting exactly where he wanted and his tongue swirling around my clit. Pulling more and more cries and moans from me.

The tension building again at a mind-numbing rate. He increased his speed as my breathing shallowed. My legs already shaky began to wobbly, my body on fire. I reached for anything to ground me, so I gripped the edge of the countertop, my hips grinding against his hand.

"That's it, give me one more. "He commanded, standing slightly nipping at the skin of my breast before wrapping his mouth around the sensitive point.

This one rolled through me in waves, each curl of his fingers, swipe of his tongue, sent a deep shiver through me. My whole body buzzing with release. He lets me come down slowly this time slowing down with me but still drawing the pleasure out as long as possible.

Once he was satisfied, Simon stands fully his free hand gripping my jaw, opening my mouth slightly. Removing his fingers from my pussy he gently places them on my tongue.

He groans as I instinctually wrap my lips around them sucking lightly, sure to keep eye contact. By the look that glossed over his eyes there no denying he's holding himself back. And of course, like any sane woman dancing on the edge of a violent man's sanity would do. I took him further in my mouth sucking harder. Swirling my tongue over the pads of his fingers.

"Needy, aren't you?" he practically whispers.

This is the most talkative Simon has ever been and he was right of course, I am needy. I need him, inside me and by the look on his face he needs it too.

Reaching between us while he was distracted, I gripped him through his pants, hard enough to get his attention.

"Is that what you want?" He asks glancing at me through hooded eyes.

I moan around his fingers raking my teeth against them gently.

"Hm," He releases my face crossing his arms across his chest "Go on, take em off." He says nodding permission.

My fingers, shakier than was expecting, fumble with his belt for a moment. Before he gently stops me, his hands on top of mine and places them on his chest after placing a swift kiss to one of my knuckles. Heat flushes my face and other parts of me actually and I lower my head slightly. He literally just had his fingers in my cunt and now I'm embarrassed. Brilliant.

He looks at me again as he discards his belt across the room motioning for me to continue. His faith, instilling a new confidence in me. Dragging my hands down his torso, over every ridge and bundle of tensed muscles until I reached his waits. Gingerly, I untuck his shirt, my fingers lightly grazing the skin low on his stomach.

A shiver ran through him and he rolled neck releasing a quick breath. A smile sneaking onto my face as I undid the buttons and zipper before wrapping my hand around him again. This time just his boxers between me and his skin.

He let out a hissing breath and grips the counter on either side of my hips dipping his head beside mine

"Carful, love." His voice a warning, his lips dragging across my collar bone sending butterflies to my stomach "I want to be gentle with you."

"I don't want you to be gentle." I whisper stroking him again, God he's huge.

"Your still wounded." His voice straining.

"I don't care." Another tug had him pulled a groan from him.

Nipping at my neck for a moment as if reconsidering what he really wants to do but ultimately desire winning out. He quickly pulls down his pants and boxers just enough to free his cock before thrusting into me.

"Fuck." I half moan half yelp.

He's massive bigger than anyone ive had before. It stings slightly being stretched this much but the fullness and his cock throbbing inside me, ushers in a new wave of pleasure as well.

Simon pulls away just enough to lock eyes with him, a hand brushing hair out of my face and resting on my cheek "Say stop I stop." He assures me.

"I know. I trust you." I say before I grab his face and kiss him roughly.

He moans into my mouth as I rock my hips to take more of him. Diggin his hands into my hair, he pulls my head back to place a wet kiss to my throat. Pulling out slightly thrusting in hard. Going deeper and deeper until he was bottoming out. The stinging subsided quickly, replaced with the frenzy of pleasure and need taking over.

He was rough and sloppy and I clung to him as he coaxed me closer and closer the edge with each heated thrust. Running my nails down his back only made him moan and pound into me harder, making my vision blur. He dragged his teeth across my neck Right as I toppled into another torrent of writhing bliss.

"Fuck you're so tight." He growls before gripping my face and kissing me roughly, taking my bottom lip between his teeth.

Both of us breathing heavy he pulls out with a wince, and I can't help the small cry of protest as he does so.

"I'm not done yet, love." He assures, picking me up off the counter placing me in front of the small table in the corner of the kitchen. Bending over it on instinct earned me a small smack on my ass as I look back at him over my shoulder.

He was breathing heavy his chest rising a falling rapidly and he had feverish look in his eye. Like he could go on for hours. I'm not sure I can make it hours, but I am more than willing to do my best. Simon ran his hands over my shoulders down my aback to the round of my ass where his grip tightened holding me there. Completely bare in front of him. Taking his time, like he wanted to remember this moment forever.

It left goosebumps on my skin and my heart began racing again as he leaned over me on the table. Pushing just the tip in as one hand braced himself on the table by my head and then other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. The first thrust was slow, dragging himself into further than he had before.

"S-Simon." I whimper, desperate for him to move again.

"Say that again." He orders, slowly pulling out.

"Simon." The moan is more of a prayer for him to continue.

He seems to enjoy it none the less as his body twitches thrusting into me with a force that wobbles the table.

The hand on my hip dragging across my abdomen between my breast resting at the base of my throat pulls me into him. Only adding to the intensity of each movement. The rough texture of his clothing while he slides in and out of me hitting that sweet spot that sends a jolt of pleasure racing through me. His body wrapped around me as I'm wrapped around him completely at his mercy. My mind went numb, knew nothing but him and then intoxicating carnal need I have for him. That knot in my core wound so tight it was painful.

"Simon" I squeak, through panting breaths. I need more of him, all of him.

Lost in this little cloud of bliss I didn't hear the front door swing open. Simons body luckily shielded mine, not that I cared right now. Simon seemed too though; a primal rumbling sound rolled out the back of his throat in warning.

"Well, it took you two long enough." Soaps chuckled.

"Get the fuck out!" Simon growled without his pace faltering.

The door clicked shut and Simon went into a frenzy. His hands roaming every inch on my skin his mouth on my neck surely leaving a mark. My body shaking uncontrollably as the sudden rush of pleasure fogged my senses. Writhing beneath him his persistence driving me over the edge again. My ears rang, and my vision blurred around the edges as I pulsed around him. It was so much, too much, but still wanted more of him. His hips began staggering as he neared his own climax.

"Simon," I whine, "I want you to come inside me."

"Fucking hell." He groans doing just that. Spilling into me giving me what I wanted.

All of him.

He stays curled around me for a few moments as we both catch our breath. His thumb rubbing mindlessly at my hip in soothing circles. Taking in the last few moments in our little bubble before we have to return to reality. 

[blackiraven]

Hey, I love your writing! Can I ask for some arkham! medical care? Maybe see how Eddie would take care of John in his state. Or how will he try to save him since he doesn't have much time left.

Thank you very much! I'm glad to know that🙏💗

Hmm, I think it would look like this, because according to my headcannons, when John was hurt by Croc, someone else was taking care of him, and Edward was in Arkham at the time.

"Well-well-well. What do we have here?" passing another inconspicuous alley, I finally got to the blinking dot on my radar. It was difficult to see the body lying on the asphalt among the dirt and debris. Only the blood-colored puddles gave alarm signals. I turned off the small device and squatted down in front of my find. All his clothes were soaked through and were torn as well as his face. The broken glove turned into useless scrap metal, some parts almost pierced through the hand. Yes, break my inventions, don't take care of them, Crane, because I love making new ones for you so much. There were bruises on his forehead, the rest of the parts were covered with bruises. But there's too much blood around, so there's a more serious injury hiding somewhere.

"Argh… couldn't you find a better place?" muttering to myself, I gently turned John onto his back with the help of a cane. He groaned loudly, clutching the beacon in his whole hand, which had been sending me a signal for help all this time. Another brilliant idea of mine, which repeatedly saved the life of the stubborn lord of fear. And mine… sometimes. A scarlet spot was growing on his side. That's the answer. What can hold a Scarecrow? A peg. Swollen with water and blood, wooden fragments protruded from the flesh. And how did you just happen to, Crane? At my first attempts to lift him up, John groan, coughed up blood and shuddered with every breath. The air whistled in his throat like in a damaged flute.

"Just try to die now, Crane. Don't count on me to organize your funeral." despite Jonathan's protesting groans, I lifted his flabby body in one sharp movement and partially threw it over my shoulder. He hissed and growled from the disturbing pain, but still took small steps with trembling legs. I held his bleeding wounds and helped him walk, putting half of his weight on myself.

"Kha… Edward… ngh!" he came to himself for a while and buried his cold face in my neck. Goosebumps ran down the back of my neck, but I let John take some of my warmth.

"What always runs and gets lost, but stumbles at the thresholds? The road! We have a long way to go, so don't waste your strength and don't attract too much attention." I whisper in his ear and hold him closer to me. In response, John calmed his trembling a little, clenched his teeth and swallowed a bloody clot. The damaged hand, through a wild pain, lay on my arm and also restrained the bleeding. Excellent. I'm loving it. With a slight smile and a deep breath of the night and stinking air, I confidently walked to a safe place.

It took all night to remove the pieces of wood from John's body. They got stuck too deep and partially split. Probably, during the escape, he fell from a decent height onto some kind of structure. I even had to cut off the dangling pieces of skin. Thanks to a large amount of painkillers, Crane lay quietly on the improvised operating table and did not distract me from the painstaking work. I often yawned and wiped sweat from my forehead. Each piece taken out took away part of my strength. My hands were numb from fatigue and could suddenly twitch at the most inopportune moment, which made him cry out and shake his head.

"Umph… sorry." I bit my lips in excitement and tried to stay neat. When the stage of suturing and a tight bandage began, my swollen fingers got tangled, but in the end I was able to cope with the most difficult task. The metal fragments were easier to remove, and his hand was quickly bandaged. Finally, I wiped the dried blood off him and treated all the abrasions. My eyes were closing, but I had to finish everything so that he would definitely live until the next night. Crane's new face, which had become familiar to me, was even more distorted by heavy blows, but I could still distinguish his emotions under the torn skin. He seemed to be reproaching himself and cursing the whole world for another humiliating defeat. Don't worry, Scarecrow, I won't divulge this secret, but I'll remember it well. I love juggling other people's secrets at the right and intimate moments.

Exhale of relief. Completely soiled gloves were pulled off from sweaty palms and thrown far away. I arched my back, stretched my neck with a crunch, plopped down on a chair and briefly closed my tired and dry eyes. Just for a little while… the darkness is so relaxing and overshadows all thoughts. The physical shell soaked with fatigue ceased to be felt. It creeps up like a predator, but at the same time sweeter than anything in the world. A dream… a dream.

My wadded body was picked up by a certain flow. I was floating, but the next second I fell down, but I didn't crash. My eyes snapped open. My torso was bent forward, and my head was resting on Crane's chest. His hands gently held me and drew me to their owner in a demanding manner. Fingers with blackened and cracked nails were picking through strands of my hair and scratching the back of my head.

"And what happened to you?" chuckling, I closed my eyes again. "I don't want to… talk about it…" he finally spoke in a hoarse voice. "You old straw bag, you don't think about me at all. Stubborn… stubborn idiot." I squirm a little, looking for a more comfortable place on a thin body. "At times like this… all I think about is you. All my hope… is only in you, Edward." the words came out in a dry cough. "M-m-m. Are you trying to flatter me, Crane?" "Hah… do you like it?" "Yes."

I had to get up for a while and go get a glass of water so that John would not completely lose the ability to speak. He looked with misty eyes at the ceiling, then at me, and each of my actions caused a soft smile on his creepy face. His bandaged hand involuntarily shuddered, which brought unpleasant pain impulses. But I took Crane's hand firmly in mine and didn't let the cramps torment him.

"I'm sorry… I didn't save the glove." "You know I love making new ones for you ."

[i-need-glitter]

If you really truly suffer from Textures where there shouldn’t be, I do suggest Vaseline, no joke, put a healthy glob over the texture then a bandage, not to help the Vaseline absorb but so you will have a different texture, this way the texture is protected, you are occupied subconsciously and conscious with a different and more obvious texture, and if you can get to 3-4 days the texture 80% of the time will go away

I also suggest a soft abrasive tool, I have a small silicone one that I use almost daily and I only get one or two pimples and very irregularly because I also wash my face and change my pillow case regularly,

It sucks but also getting a skin care routine will help remove textures, my friend was suffering through textures so last year for the holidays I got her Origins small travel 5 piece set for like $30 and within a month of regular use she noticed a huge positive change

I know Origins works because a family member who suffers from Textures Removal extreme mode took all the Origins products from a family members house after their passing and used them and their face got fixed real quick, like 2-3 months later their face was normal looking for the most part

So please if you have Textures please consider developing a skin care routine and give it 2-3 months and take personal progress pictures unless you have an allergic reaction

I know we make jokes but this is serious and I think it could help suffering from Textures

i need to stop picking at my face but the problem is theres Textures On There and i would prefer if there Werent

[allwhilewaiting]

doctor's note

I remember so vividly writing this post 7 years ago. Re-reading it this morning reminded me of the ache I felt with each expressed sentiment of grief that I was experiencing.

It's hard to believe that 7 years later I am almost in an identical predicament with my mother. We don't talk at all.

Which is kind of wild, because she just moved to Charleston, which means that now the whole matriarch of my maternal side is in the same city, within an hour's drive of each other respectively and this is the welcome home dynamic...

When my mom moved here after 8 months of me being here, into a home in a neighborhood that I had handpicked for myself only to her benefit (divinely unbeknownst to me at the time), I thought I was living a realized dream. We've both always said we love Charleston with heart and soul <3 And now, the universe made way for us to be here together. Only, not together.

I find it interesting that in my 2-year reply to my original post, I talked about always getting back in the ring at all costs. As I remember the context of where I was in my life in 2018, 5 years ago...I can see why I'd say that. I was used to abuse, trained religiously that it was a form of honor to fight against what is fighting me, instead of simply walking away from toxic situations. Church, at that time, was the subtle reminder underneath waves of self-soothing Sunday services that denying myself the right to select healing spaces at every cost was the only path to God.

Five years later and I have lived through God, my ancestors, holy spirit, and the rest of the Divine Collective shouldering my pain and distress to deliver me to my true self. In the best city. Carrying me on their backs to a better place. All without even the hint of a sermon or religious text.

And so I reflect on this issue again, the mother : daughter dynamic. The importance of it to me, and the real live grief that pains my heart in knowing that no amount of desire that I have to relate harmoniously with my mother will make it so. I can only choose what is helpful to me. And I can say, with so many years of bad experiences to substantiate these sentiments, that my mother has always been the person to incite the worst versions of myself.

My most combative, irritated, offended, and inauthentic self. I have always had to dance around her. To mute myself or tailor my true feelings to meet her where she is. That, or I am shut down.

At 29, I am tired of seeking spaces on this planet that cannot hold the fullness of me. And I similarly don't like being in spaces where I can't hold the fullness of others without it feeling abrasive to my fullness.

So it hurts to not do what is familiar, to just bandage up the indefinite wound of a dysfunctional relationship with my mother and trudge on until the next offense...it hurts not to lend way to the honest-to-goodness great moments of laughter and a shared language between us that has taken a lifetime to develop, it hurts to not pick up the phone or just see her face.

I do miss my mom. I do love my mom. But I must love myself more, in a way that I never have before if I want to make the kind of changes in my life that will sustain my stability. And putting myself in a land mine with her is not stable.

So I'll cry the tears, and bear the weight of the hurt with my healing journals and books, writing prompts and messages of journeying toward self-love and abundant expansion. I'll do it for me. I'll do it for the healing me. I'll do it for every person who gets to see the healing version of me. For a life lived with ease. And beauty and wonder. A gentle life. With no fighting, just intentional spaces in my cultivated internal home of bliss...

Those are doctor's orders.

<3

[jenroses]

I've taken to lying about whether my toes are numb before they deal with ingrown toenails because enough medication to numb the toe properly is enough to cause me weeks of discomfort as my body deals with all of the infiltrated fluid, which contains something I'm low-key allergic to. They can partially numb it, but if they go all the way, it's going to hurt worse in the long term.

Yes, it's excruciatingly painful to have an incompletely numbed toe during an ingrown toenail extraction. But it's very very temporary. My 10 is not natural childbirth. Natural childbirth was like, a 7 at the worst. Toenail is like a 9, but very short-lived. Kidney stone and pitocin contractions and corneal abrasions, now THOSE are tens. Of those, kidney stones are the Actual Worst because of how damn long they can go on, pitocin is horrible because like, you're so goddamn tired and it just keeps GOING, and corneal abrasions are weird because they are excruciatingly exquisitely painful but the diagnosis process takes you from a 10 to a 0 in a split second and by the time that wears off they've put a bandage contact in and it's like a 3, tops. Lidocaine injections are just worthless for me, but lidocaine PATCHES are my best friend because they stay there and keep doing the thing as fast as I can metabolize it. LIdocaine patches are a goddamn miracle because they can be cut up and put wherever the pain is, up to and including on my face when I have a migraine or tooth pain.

In the latest installment of me Terrorizing Medical Professionals, I got my Wisdom Teeth extracted because one decided to be an asshole and the other 3 were pending assholery, and demonstrated to my dentist that it's entirely possible to out-metabolize Ketamine if you start moving ASAP and also have a freakishly powerful liver.

So yesterday I had my one-month Checkup. It went pretty great, and the dentist asked if any part of my mouth was bothering me.

"Yeah, there's a sharp bit of bone coming out through the side from the extraction in my lower right jaw. The bone spur itself doesn't hurt, but it keeps cutting my tongue, so can you just pull it?" "Oh. Sure! Let me go get everything to do that." she said, and went to go get the tools for the extraction.

...Then there was some kind of confusion at the front desk I could overhear, with someone showing up with an urgent problem and they had to juggle the available staff, so she came back a bit later with the Pliers, said something about something taking "long enough" and went in.

It came out in two pieces, and the most discomfort I had was like, a 3/10 from the extraction itself, but mostly from keeping my mouth open.

...About halfway through, the Hygienist came in, apologizing for being late getting back from the front desk.

"Oh good, you have her the Novocaine!" the hygienist sighs with relief.

"What?" Said my dentist.

"What?" said the hygienist.

Both of them turn to look at the very full syringe on the tool table behind me.

"Honestly this is bothering me way less than the shot would." I said, lightly dribbling blood, and they both turn to me in horror.

"I really hate needles." I explain.

"What." says the dentist.

"Woah." Says the hygienist. "You would have done great in like, The Civil War."

Which is probably the funniest thing anyone's every said about my dangerously high pain tolerance.

Anyway, it was a one-off issue, and a non-issue for me because I think a normal person would have stopped her, so I go back in August if she doesn't recommend me to someone else for terrifying her twice in as many visits.

[hajimine]

Hello!! Hope you are having a wonderful day/night! Could you possible to a request were Iwaizumi/Bokuto/Sakusa/Daichi/Ushijima watching us play volleyball and we make a dive but we get hurt doing it? I absolutely love your head cannons!

➵ HAIKYUU BOYS’ REACTION WHEN YOU HURT YOURSELF PLAYING VOLLEYBALL

-> characters: (timeskip) iwaizumi hajime, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi, sawamura daichi, ushijima wakatoshi

!! warnings: it is implied that the reader gets hurt (hence the title) bc they were playing volleyball!!

a/n: okay so i changed the diving in part a bit bc i don’t want it to be too repetitive hehe hope you like it!! and thank you?? <3

✿ 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 would immediately rush over to your side, brows pulled tight into a frown as he fusses over you. “shit baby are you okay? tell me where it hurts, are you bleeding anywhere? do you-” you had to cut him off before he stresses himself to death; from the look of it, he’s one second away from popping a vein. “it’s just a scratch, hajime. stop frowning, you’ll get premature wrinkles, y’know?” you laugh, poking his forehead gently. his frown deepens, but he had to bite back a chuckle from your nonchalance. although you insist that you can walk on your own, he still carries you to the bench bridal style, strong arms securely wrapped around your figure. “if you don’t want me to get all wrinkly, then you should stop worrying me, dumbass.”

✿ 𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 panics instantly, thinking that it was his fault for begging you to come play with him. “babyy i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to make you get hurt! i shouldn’t have asked you to play, now you’re all injured i’m so so sorry.” his hair gets all droopy, lips pulled into a pout as he helps ice your sprained ankle. your eyes soften as you look at your him—he genuinely believes that he’s the one at fault. after getting him to look you in the eyes, you tell him that you’re fine and that it wasn’t his fault, you agreed to it after all. “how bout you help carry me to the infirmary after you’re done, hm?” he immediately brightens up, excited to help. giddily, he presses a kiss on your forehead. “anything for you baby! i’ll even carry you home if you want me to!”

✿ 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 looks calm on the outside, but on the inside, he’s angry—angry at himself for letting you get hurt. “is your knee okay? it doesn’t seem like there’s any bleeding but i think we should go to the clinic.” he looks over your knee for the hundredth time, pressing his lips into a thin line as he gently runs his thumb around the area. sakusa gently held your hand, helping you stand up slowly. he places your arm around your shoulder as he wraps his arm around your waist to support your figure. “careful, angel. don’t put any weight on that knee, okay?” he’s extremely gentle with you—even more so than usual, his cold exterior entirely gone as he slowly and patiently guides you to the nearby infirmary.

✿ 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 quickly runs over to you, immediately getting to work without much talking. he gingerly checks on the abrasion on your knee, sighing in relief when he realizes that you didn’t break any bones. he loops his arm around your figure to help you up, slowly walking you over to the toilets, “we’ll just clean the wound with running water and i’ll get some supplies from the infirmary. it’ll be okay.” he smiles softly at you, squeezing your hand for extra reassurance. he winces when you hiss from the sting, guilty that you’re in pain but he knows it has to be done. when the nurse finished wrapping your wound in fresh bandage, he jokingly offers to carry you back home but opted to press a small kiss on the crown of your head instead when you refuse, making sure to hold your hand all the way home.

✿ 𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀 jogs over to your spot immediately, squatting down to get a better look at your wrist. “looks like it’s sprained. it will be okay after you ice it and get some rest.” he says, but continued to frown at your injury. goshiki runs over to give him an ice pack and he teaches you how to hold it in place properly, rough fingers brushing over your hand ever so slightly. “i’m sorry, i should’ve seen it coming.” you look at his incredulously, “it’s not your fault, toshi. it was my own. please don’t blame yourself.” you stop him from apologizing further, giving him a stern look. he keeps quiet, but he still gazes at your wrist guiltily. he’s such a softie at heart, even if he looks tough on the outside. after he’s done freshening up, he insists on carrying you all the way home, even if your injury is on your wrist and not your legs. you let him, though, because it seems to stop him from blaming himself any more.

writing masterlist — requesting rules — taglist form

reblogs are highly appreciated!! <3

[turtletotem]

How about 49 for Glimbow?

Once the first euphoria of victory began to fade (not completely—it lasted for days, in one form or another), Glimmer became aware that almost everyone around them was injured to some degree. The only one completely unscathed was Adora, thanks to She-Ra's magic. Catra hadn't been so lucky; apparently she'd had some kind of encounter with a First Ones guardian monster. Adora dragged her away, hissing and grumbling, to look for a first aid kit.

"What about you? Are you okay?" Bow asked, looking her over with furrowed brows. Glimmer found herself suddenly tongue-tied, overly aware of the warmth of his skin as he brushed hair out of her face and gently tipped her face this way and that, looking for damage.

I love you. She'd finally managed to say it out loud, and so had he, and the words echoed now in her brain. She could swear she still felt the warm spot on her forehead where he'd kissed her.

"I'm fine, Bow," she said, which was mostly true. She had a few bruises and abrasions, nothing worth worrying about. She reached for his hand—and gasped at the sight of the open gash on his arm. "When did this happen?"

"Huh. I don't know." Bow turned his arm to stare at the mess on its underside, halfway scabbed over and speckled with dirt. "It doesn't even hurt. Oh! Never mind, now it does."

"For goodness' sake, Bow. Sit down." She dragged him over to a nearby log and pushed him down on it. "Which way did Adora go? Maybe we should get her to heal it…"

"No," Bow said firmly. "She's going to need her strength for people who are a lot worse off than me."

"Ugghh. You're probably right." He usually was. "Juliet! Hey, Juliet, do you have bandages?"

"And antiseptic," said the Guard Captain walking by. Her helmet was gone and she was mussed and dirty, but seemed unharmed. Her arms were full of medical supplies that she was clearly passing out to all comers.

Glimmer grabbed what she thought she'd need, and pushed Bow back down on the log when he tried to stand up.

"You're going to sit right here," she said, "and let me take care of you for once."

She started cleaning the wound, washing dirt and gravel out of it as gently as she could. Bow flinched and hissed between his teeth.

"I know, I'm so sorry! Here, squeeze my hand." She put one hand in his, poured antiseptic over the gash with the other, and firmly refused to show any sign of discomfort as Bow crushed the life out of her fingers. "There we go. This stuff is supposed to have numbing agent in it, so it should be feeling better soon."

"It is," Bow said, his hand relaxing.

"Good. Let's get it bandaged up. Sorry, I need my hand back." She wound bandages around his arm, just tight enough to pull the edges of the wound together. "You probably need stitches, actually, but this will do for the moment."

Bow reclaimed his arm, rubbing absently at the bandage. "Thank you, Glimmer."

Glimmer looked down at his upturned face, her chest aching. She loved Bow's face so much. His eyes. His hair. His nose. His lips. "You've got to take better care of yourself," she said. "You're always so busy taking care of other people—mostly me—and it's not fair. You need to take care of yourself, too."

"Why bother, when I can get you to do it for me?" he said, mouth tilting up teasingly.

"Yeah, okay," Glimmer said softly. "You'll take care of me, and I'll take care of you. That works." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead, a mirror of the kiss he'd given her. "Thank you," she whispered into his hair. "For coming back to me."

"Always," he whispered back, and wrapped his arms around her. And they stayed like that, Glimmer hugging him to her chest and pressing her cheek to his head, for as long as they could.