#Skin Abscess

[creativeera]

Acute Bacterial Skin And Skin Structure Infections Market Trends driven by Increasing Antibiotic Resistance

The acute bacterial skin and skin structure infections (ABSSSI) market comprises anti-infective drugs that are used to treat skin infections caused by bacteria. These infections include impetigo, cellulitis, wound infections, and major cutaneous abscesses. The commonly prescribed drugs are antibiotics such as cephalosporins, carbapenems, lipoglycopeptides, oxazolidinones, and tetracyclines. The increasing threat of antimicrobial resistance (AMR) has boosted the demand for effective antibiotic treatments. Growing prevalence of skin infections owing to rising environmental pollution levels and lifestyle changes has also augmented market growth.

Global acute bacterial skin and skin structure infections market is estimated to be valued at USD 3,842.5 Mn in 2024 and is expected to reach USD 5,701.7 Mn by 2031, exhibiting a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 5.8% from 2024 to 2031.

Key Takeaways Key players operating in the Acute Bacterial Skin And Skin Structure Infections market are Fresenius SE and Co. KGaA, Pfizer, Inc., Amneal Pharmaceuticals LLC, Intas Pharmaceuticals Ltd., Cadila Healthcare Ltd., Glenmark Pharmaceuticals Ltd, GSK plc, Sun Pharmaceutical Industries Ltd., Aurobindo Pharma Ltd., AbbVie, Inc., Melinta Therapeutics LLC, Accord Healthcare Ltd., Merck and Co., Inc., Teva Pharmaceutical Industries Ltd., Paratek Pharmaceuticals, Inc. The growing prevalence of skin infections across the world coupled with the rising threat of AMR is fueling the demand for effective antibiotic therapies. Leading market players are investing in R&D to develop novel drugs with new mechanisms of action. On the other hand, companies are also undertaking initiatives to expand their presence in emerging economies through strategic partnerships and acquisition activities. The Acute Bacterial Skin And Skin Structure Infections Market Demand rising threat of antimicrobial resistance is a key concern that is augmenting the demand for novel and effective anti-infective treatments for ABSSSIs. According to the WHO, drug-resistant bacteria could cause 10 million deaths annually by 2050 if adequate actions are not taken. Growing awareness regarding antibiotic stewardship practices is reducing the irrational use of antibiotics to some extent. However, further regulatory interventions and strict prescribing guidelines are required to curb the development and spread of resistant pathogens. Market Key Trends One of the major trends witnessed in the acute bacterial skin and skin structure infections market is the rising focus on developing new antibiotic classes with novel mechanisms of action to overcome anti-microbial resistance. Several pipeline drugs under clinical trials employ new mechanisms like inhibition of bacterial DNA/RNA synthesis, cell wall biosynthesis, and protein synthesis. Monoclonal antibodies targeting specific toxins produced by resistant bacteria is another novel area being explored. Fast track approvals and commercialization of path-breaking antibiotic therapies will ensure long-term market sustenance amid growing healthcare costs and stringent pricing control by governments globally.

Porter's Analysis Threat of new entrants: New players find it difficult to enter this market owing to high costs of R&D and regulatory requirements. Bargaining power of buyers: Many buyers have low bargaining power due to lack of alternatives. Bargaining power of suppliers: Suppliers have moderate bargaining power due to availability of substitute sources. Threat of new substitutes: Threat from new substitutes is moderate due to technology developments and increasing investments in alternatives. Competitive rivalry: Fierce competition exists among existing players to gain market share. Geographical Regions North America accounts for the largest share of the global acute bacterial skin and skin structure infections market, in terms of value, followed by Europe. This is attributed to the rapidly growing incidence of skin infections, advanced healthcare infrastructure, favorable reimbursement policies, and high awareness among healthcare professionals and patients regarding diagnosis and treatment. Asia Pacific is expected to witness the fastest growth during the forecast period, primarily driven by improving access to healthcare facilities owing to rising disposable incomes, growing incidence of skin infections due to changing lifestyles, and supportive government policies and initiatives in emerging economies. Rising medical tourism in Asian countries has also boosted the market growth in the region.

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Vaagisha brings over three years of expertise as a content editor in the market research domain. Originally a creative writer, she discovered her passion for editing, combining her flair for writing with a meticulous eye for detail. Her ability to craft and refine compelling content makes her an invaluable asset in delivering polished and engaging write-ups.

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[forestofsprites]

soooo the thing is <3 i did find and also start a rowena portrait, BUT ! then i found a photo of rachel miner with ruth connell. and you know how i've been having endless rowena & meg. megena. roweg. thoughts as of late......

[tangledinink]

... the fuck you mean you've had too many teeth broski.

OH well when I was like eight I had an extra tooth that was trying to grow upwards, like, into my nose, so they had to go in and surgically remove that one. smh. it fucked up all my other teeth somehow so then i got braces immediately after. i have really good mouth genetics actually.

[tilda-rothery]

I recently had surgery on my leg – like last Tuesday – to remove necrotic tissue from a skin infection turned into a really bad abscess. Now I've had skin infections and abscesses before, I'm unbelievably prone to them, no matter how clean or careful I am. I do believe there must be an underlying cause, I just haven't found it yet. But I've never in my life, had one like this.

It turned very quickly, from barely any redness or pain on Saturday, to me saying on Sunday 'tomorrow I'm going to book in to see the GP before this gets bad', to me crying on Monday evening on the phone to 111 (UK out of hours) because a very small area of the infection site had started to turn black, which then had me going to A&E later Monday evening (11pm).

I was in excruciating pain before surgery, so much so that even the dose of codeine they gave me in A&E (for which I sat for 7 hours) did nothing to elevate my discomfort.

Within 5 minutes of seeing my leg, (after sitting there for the aforementioned 7 hours), I was seen by two surgeons and placed immediately on a drip of antibiotics - and yes I had managed to see my local GP as soon as was possible on Monday morning and had already started a strong course of antibiotics before going to A&E later that day/evening. The GP decided not to drain it then and there because when I saw him Monday morning, the infection wasn't even half as bad as what it was Monday evening.

I had a special visit from the head of surgery, as well my primary surgeons and a junior anaesthetist all between the hours of 6.30-9am on Tuesday.

I was in theatre by 9.15am. This marks my first ever surgery. I was under general anaesthetic. The surgeons did not know the extent of the damage the infection had done to my leg.

By 10.15am a good chunk of my thigh had been removed but the pain was completely gone! Partly due to the removal of all the bad shit that had accumulated in my leg and partly due to the drugs.

I was sent home late Wednesday, armed with pain meds and more antibiotics.

I am currently undergoing daily visitations from my district nurses because the surgeons decided that for optimal healing, and to avoid repeat infections, to leave my abscess cavity open - no stitches, just a gaping hole in my thigh.

Everyday the nurses have to pack my leg with surgical ribbon and apply a dressing.

Yesterday was the first time in a week that I felt brave enough to take a photo and actually look at my wound. Honestly, it's both extremely gross, yet truly fascinating. It measures 4.9cm in length and 2cm in width. They have yet to measure the depth.

You can see a small amount of the muscle in my leg, it is completely exposed. What's even more fascinating is that today when I mentioned that I could actually see my muscle to the nurse, she said that if I moved, she'd be able to see it twitch. I mean of course she would, but the thought never occurred to me that anyone would ever be able to watch my thigh muscle move from within my body.

I now have to be extra careful to make sure my wound is kept clean and covered for the next who knows how long (the nurses reckon a month, I am unable to work during this time) while it heals so that it doesn't get infected, especially now as my course of antibiotics has finished.

I now find myself with far too much free time on my hands now that I am homebound.... Lots of TV (good thing there are 20 seasons of Greys Anatomy, not that I managed to get past season 13 on my last watch), Stardew valley and a little bit of crochet to occupy my time with.

To say I am starting to get a little bored is an understatement.

And now I have rambled!

So, moral of the story, be extra careful with skin infections, they can take a turn for the absolute worst within a blink of an eye, regardless of if you've done absolutely everything you can think of to prevent further infection.

They are no joke.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Has anyone had paronychia before? I’m worried I’m gonna lose my toe. Like, genuinely worried. I’ve been on antibiotics for two days and it’s not improving, it’s getting worse and I’m scared.

[butchyena]

making myself sick w paranoia lol i have like 3 weeks before i see my doctor again and she didn’t SAY anything alluding to it but im so so convinced the last abscess left isnt draining fast enough and shes gonna want to do surgery for the fourth time

[2024skin]

My unfeminist trait is that when healthcare workers tell stories about how they wore makeup to work and then some type of patient excrement got stuck to it, that makes me really happy

[siryaoimaster]

need to stop biting my nails so much

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 8

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Sky didn’t have much of a temper.

Even if she was frustrated or annoyed, she rarely got angry or lost her patience. 

It wasn't that she didn't have emotions. She did. She felt things deeply, passionately. However, she also believed that there was no point in wasting energy on getting angry. It didn't solve anything. It only made things worse. 

So Sky had learned a very, very long time ago…that there was no need to start screaming, because her stutter didn’t allow her that anyway…and that maybe…maybe it was easier for her to just let go off her anger about being unfairly treated. 

Getting angry wouldn’t help her. 

That day however…it burst out of her. Burst out of her like somebody had lanced an abscess. 

Her family could say whatever they wanted about her. But they were not going to say a single word about Azriel 

It was Winter Solstice.

Azriel and her had spent the last month or so enjoying winter season in Velaris…even once trying to ice skate on their lake, which only ended with him kissing her skinned knees, because she was definitely not a natural at it.

They had bought Winter Solstice gifts, and baked cookies…had decorated their house with pine garlands and velvet ribbons…

She had knitted them socks and they had made rabbit stews out of rabbits Azriel had hunted in the forest behind their house. (It was…she had never really seen him as a warrior, even when he wore these black leathers and the blue stone that glinted off him…but she could see him as a hunter, when he came home with a couple of rabbits, ready for dinner. It had also resulted in a new fur lined blanket for her, all ready on the couch. 

She had never outright asked…but he seemd to like it when she was cuddled beneath it, like it seemed to soothe some kind of instinct for him. Maybe the fact that it was the animal he had hunted?)   

Sky and Azriel had both made the decision to spend the days with their respective families and have their own Solstice celebrations the next day…that would pretty much sonsits out of a lazy day in bed and nothing else. 

It sounded amazing. Just what they wanted. 

And it had made sense to celebrate like that. She hadn’t wanted to be the one to keep him from his family after all, even if the thought of not spending Solstice with her mate had hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Azriel had been up ridiculous easily in the morning for a snowball fight that was apparently tradition…but not before he had spent a good half hour making her scream his name with his mouth between her thighs…

Afterwards, she had gotten dressed and left the shadows to amuse Hector for the day… and Sky had left to help her mother with dinner preparations.

A nice, quiet family dinner. Nothing more and nothing less.

That’s what it was supposed to be. They didn’t even get that far.

It all went to shit before dinner was even in the oven. 

From the moment she entered her parents house it was a barrage of barbed comments. About her appearance, her stutter, her lack of an boyfriend…her lack of a proper job. (Sellyn Drake was hers. Sellyn Drake was nothing they got to gossip about.) 

Sky had bitten her tongue. She had ignored the comments, tried to enjoy herself. But Claire never knew when enough was enough.

Her sister kept at it. Kept needling, jabbing at Sky until the little bubbles of anger popped to the surface and boiled into something…bigger.

“I…I met my m…mate,” Sky finally said flatly, after anther jab at her lack of a boyfriend. 

Take that Claire. Not just a fiance. A mate. 

Finally in just one thing Sky had been faster than her sister. 

A mate. That mystical rare mating bond had been a gift from the other for her and not for Claire. 

It caught Claire off guard. She stopped pacing, and turned to look at her sister, brow raised. The look said ‘Oh is that so?’ as if it was the kind of nonsense she had come to expect from her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, clearly not believing a word Sky said. 

But Sky wasn’t going to let this go. “His n..name is Azriel,” Sky said with a smile. “We are ver…very hap…happy.” 

They were. They were so happy. So delightfully happy. (So delightfully happy that Sky had been wondering if maybe…maybe the should start trying. High Fae fertility was hit or miss anyway…why shouldn’t they simply start trying and see where it would take them. And if it took two decades, then it took two decades. If it only took a year or three…well, then they were lucky.)  

Claire narrowed her eyes. She was about to say something mean, Sky could see it in the way her lip curled up.

“He…He's a g…good male,” she said firmly, cutting Claire off before she got the chance to spew out anything else.

Claire laughed. It was a harsh, biting sound.

"A good male? Really, Sky?" she sneered. "You actually fell for that line?"

It wasn’t a line. It was the truth. 

Azriel was a good male. Patient and intense and loving. He had never raised a single finger against her.Azriel would never hurt her intentionally. 

 Claire just wanted to belittle Sky in front of their whole family.

"You must be even more naive than you seem if you believe that," she said, almost pityingly. "You really think he wants you? That he actually cares about you? Nobody could want you. I bet he just pities you."

It should have hurt her, she realised. It would have. Even just months ago, it would have hurt her. 

But right now…right now it didn’t really. 

She was supposed to believe that Azriel didn’t want her? The same male that had spent the better part of an hour on his knees in front of her that very morning, eating her out like a starved male? She was supposed that her mate, who’s arousal shot across the bond like an inferno any time she slipped off her clothes, didn’t want her? That the same male that stared at her like she was a goddess, that spent hours worshipping her body with his hands…that she had nearly made come simply by touching his wings a few days ago didn’t want her? 

Still…Claire's words had their effect. She felt a small stab of doubt in her heart, and she hated it. She hated that her sister could still hurt her like this, still make her feel like that insecure little girl who stuttered and couldn't get a single word right.

“He…He l…loves me and I…I love him,” Sky said calmly.

That was clear in every single one of his actions, in every single word. 

“Where did you even meet him?” Sky’s mother demanded. “And what kind of name is Azriel?”

“In…In a bar. Wh…When we went out for Cl..Claire’s Hen Do.  And I im…imagine it’s an Il…illyrian name.”

Everything ground to a halt.

“He’s Illyrian?!” Her mother demanded sharply. “What’s wrong with you, Skylar!”

Sky flinched at her tone. It was harsh, angry. It was the same tone she'd always used when Sky was younger and got anything wrong or stepped out of line.

"Yes, he's Il…Illlyrian," she said, meeting her mother's gaze levelly. "What's…what’s wrong with that?" she asked. 

She knew that her family wasn’t the…most open about Lesser Faes, but…but that hatred in her mother’s voice….she hadn’t expected that. 

“Everything,” Admon gave back with a snort. “You seriously let that barbarian fuck you? I am surprised you actually survived that and he didn’t just rip you apart.”

Every bit of colour leeched out of her face, except her ruddy red cheeks at these crude words. 

This was Admon. Once upon a time, she had wanted to marry him. To have his children. To spent her life with him. 

And…and this was what he told her to her face. 

“I can’t believe that you even let a creature like him touch you,” her mother breathed staring at her with utter disgust.

“He’...He’s not a cre…creature,” Sky bit out. Azriel was her mate. 

“Is it true by the way?” Her brother wondered. “That Illyrian’s have a cat’s prick?”

"Orin!" her mother exclaimed, aghast. "Don't be vulgar! I don't want to know."

Orin shrugged, a smirk dancing across his face. "What? I’m just curious. I am sure Skylar knows. She must please him somehow when she’s still alive to enjoy their…couplings.”

Sky felt ill. She didn't know what to say, what to say in defense of the man she loved. She couldn't get a word out.

“Did you…did you let it touch you?” Her father demanded finally, his voice icy.

It. Not even him. It. Like Azriel was a thing. 

Sky felt her heart drop to the floor, breaking into pieces.

"Yes," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Her father's face grew stony, and he took a step closer to her.

“How dare you?” he hissed. "How could you let a monster touch you like that?"

"He's not a monster!" Sky protested, her voice rising. "He's…He’s k…kind and gen…gentle, and-"

“And I am sure, he keeps you stuffed with his cat prick to keep you satisfied,” Claire drawled.

And Sky was done.

Somehow that was the last straw. 

Somehow that made something inside her break, irreparable. 

It snipped away every thread that ever kept her close to the family that she had been born into. 

“At least I didn’t need to take my sister’s sl…sloppy s…seconds,” Sky said, her voice flat, meeting her gaze full on.“And yes, Azriel more than keeps me s…satisfied.”

Silence descended over the room, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Sky felt the tension in the air grow heavier with each passing second.

"You…you didn’t just say that,” Claire said coldly. "You take that back, Sky.

Sky raised her chin defiantly. "No.” she said simply. “I'm…I’m not taking back the truth," she said, her voice ringing with unexpected steel.

"You do not speak to me like that," Claire hissed. "You have no right—"

Something inside Sky snapped. Years of frustration, years of feeling invisible and ignored, years of enduring Claire's taunts and jibes all bubbled to the surface.

"I…I have ev…every right," she shot back, her heart pounding in her chest. “Not so fun when you are on the re…receiving end, is it?”

“Either you end your…dalliance with…that creature, or you are no daughter of mine,” her father snapped.

He talked to her like she was nothing. Like she was worth less than dirt beneath his boots. 

And somehow that made it even easier. 

“You want me to turn away my mate…for what? This?” She asked him, cocking her head to the side. .

"For the sake of our family’s reputation," her father said. "You are an embarrassment to us all by associating with that…lesser fae barbarian.”

Barbarian. Lesser Fae. Thing. Creature. Monster.

All of that said about the male she loved. About her mate. 

“He’s Illyrian,” Sky said, her voice icy. 

“Oh come off it,” “Orin snapped. “He’s lesser fae. The only thing they are good for is being fodder for the armies during war times. Other than that, they are worthless.”

Fodder. 

“We have Lesser Fae ancestry ourself,” Sky responded icily. “Our great grandmother was a River Nymph.”

"That was a long time ago," her father interrupted sharply. "It was one ancestor generations ago. And besides, her blood was not that strong to begin with."

Sky thought back to the eyes that looked back from her mirror each day. Blue and beautiful. The one trace of her that got passed down to her.

"Maybe it was her blood that made you think that opening your legs for that creature was in any way appropriate," her mother hissed. 

And suddenly it was so easy. 

“Azriel is my mate,” she hissed. “I will al…always chose him over you. You can spew what..whatever insult you want about him or his pe…peoople. He’s still a bet…better male than any of you could ever hope to be, has treated me better than any of you. I’ll gladly no longer be your daughter.”

She felt the sting of tears running down her cheeks, but she didn't try to wipe them away. She just stared back at her family, daring them to say more. There was a short moment of silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

She should have expected it. Her mother had always been quick to slap her if she did anything anything that she didn’t like.

Just this time…her hand didn’t make contact.

Sky stared at the tendril of shadows that jerked her mother’s hand back, having suddenly appeared. 

*You. Will. Not. Lay. A. Finger. On. Her,* the shadows hissed menacingly.

Sky stared at the shadows, her eyes widening in shock. They were angry. No. Furious. Utterly and completely furious. Her mother seemed equally taken aback, her hand still outstretched in the air where the shadows had stopped her.

Orin looked like he was about to piss himself, and her father…her father stared at the shadows, his face ashen.

“Come here,” Sky said quietly.

The shadows left her mother to come swarming to her, brushing over her cheek in greeting before wrapping themselves around her neck in a clearly possessive move.

Sky felt the familiar warmth of the shadows sink into her, a small bit of comfort in this awful situation. She turned to her family, her jaw set.

"I’m…I’m never coming back," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. And with that, she turned and walked away, She had only taken a handful of steps when she stopped and turned back, one last thing needing to be said, before she closed the door on this chapter of her life forever.

"I never want to see any of you again," she said, her voice shaking only slightly. "And when we have children, don’t you dare come and ask to have anything to do with them. You don’t deserve to even breath the same air as my mate."

With that, she turned and walked away, her head held high. 

***

Whatever went on between sky and her family…it wasn’t good. He could feel that in the bond slumbering underneath his breast bone.

He rubbed it absentmindly, staring in the flickering flame of the Birchin.

He had won that Snowball fight. Once more. One more victory to add to it.  Not that he particularly cared right now.

*Is she alright?* he asked the shadows.

The shadows were…quiet. And that spoke volumes. Something wasn't right. Azriel's heart pounded against his chest, his instincts urging him to act. He had to make sure Sky was alright. He couldn't stand to think about her being in any sort of trouble.

*Physicallly unharmed,* the shadows promised. *Her family is horrible,* they told him distastefully. 

Azriel's heart clenched at the shadow’s words. While it was a small relief that Sky wasn't physically hurt…her family being horrible made him want to grimace. 

“Alright, I had it!” Cassian snapped at that moment. “What the fuck is going on with you two?”

Azriel turned to his brother, seeing Cassian watch Rhys and himself with an expression of…something. Exasperation maybe.

"What do you mean?" Azriel asked, his voice even, feigning ignorance. He was really not in the mood to get into that either. But apparently he wasn’t going to get that small bit of mercy. 

"Don’t play dumb with me, brother," Cassian said, rolling his eyes. "You are both moody and more distant than usual. What the heck happened?"

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Azriel said flatly. Cassian rolled his eyes.

“Rhys?” Cassian demanded with a sigh. 

“You want to explain or shall I?” Rhys addressed him and Azriel just looked at him flatly.

“You gave the orders, High Lord.”

If Azriel had been in a better mood, he would have smirked. But right now, he just wanted this whole conversation to be over so he could check on Sky. The thought of her made his chest ache. He longed to see her, to hold her, to make sure she's alright. But he knew that Cassian and Rhys wouldn’t let him go without an explanation.

“Azriel and I…had a disagreement about Elain.” Azriel just stared at Rhys blankly. Seriously, that was the best Rhys could come up with? That’s what he wanted to go with?!

"A disagreement?" Cassian asked, brows raised. "What kind of disagreement? A 'we came to an agreement' kind of disagreement, or a 'we punched each other in the face' disagreement?"

“A ‘Rhys sticks his nose into things that are none of his business’ disagreement,” Azriel gave back drily.

“Excuse me, you were going to kiss ELain while her mate was under the same roof two years ago. Did you ever even consider the political ramifications of that?” Rhys snapped. “For gods sake, Azriel!”

Azriel's jaw clenched at Rhys's words, his temper flaring even as he tried to maintain a neutral expression. "You think I didn't consider the consequences? Of course, I did," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "But feelings aren't logical, Rhys. We don't choose who we fall for, and it's not as simple as calculating political ramifications."

“I told Azriel to keep away from Elain. She fell for Lucien. He’s still moping about it and giving me the fault,” Rhys said flatly. “Out of pure interest, how much longer do you want to keep up with that, Az?”

Azriel couldn’t help the laugh that burst out od his mouth at that.

“You didn’t just fucking tell me to keep away from her. You told me and I quote ‘If you need to fuck somebody go to a pleasure hall and pay for it’,” Azriel repeated viciously.

"And I stand by that," Rhys snapped. "The last thing we need is for you to pine over someone who has made it clear where she stands. Elain has her mate, and she doesn't return your feelings. She’s married for gods’ sake!”

“Whoa!” Cassian cut them off. “What the fuck, Rhys?!”

"What?" Rhys demanded, glaring at Cassian.

Cassian gave him an incredulous look. "You told Azriel to go to a pleasure hall? Seriously?"

"I was trying to be helpful," Rhys said, his jaw clenching.

"Helpful?" Cassian asked incrediously. "Helpful would have been to be a little more understanding towards your brother's feelings. He does have them, you know,” Cassian said sarcastically. 

"I know that," Rhys snapped. "But he needs to move on. It's not healthy to keep pining after someone who doesn't return his feelings."

“Where was this opinion for the 500 years of me pining after Mor?” Azriel snapped. 

Rhys's expression darkened. "Don't do that, Azriel. Don't bring Mor into this. She's not relevant to this discussion."

”Not relevant?” Azriel gave back with a laugh. “I think she’s very relevant. You don’t trust me to act like an adult about my feelings. You ordered me to behave like I am some kind of rabid dog. More than once, more than twice. Constantly. Like I would ever do anything to put Mor and Emerie’s relationship into jeopardy. Don’t worry, High Lord. I’ll behave. I’ll leave Mor and Elain alone. .”

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, his frustration clear. "This is not about Mor, Azriel. This is about keeping the peace within our Inner Circle. Elain has her own life and her own happiness to think about. Interfering could only bring pain, not just for you, but for everyone involved. That’s why I ordered you to keep your distance. Not because I don’t trust your feelings or your actions, but because sometimes even the best intentions can have unintended consequences."

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Don't give me any of your high and mighty bullshit, Rhysand. You don’t think I am good enough for Mor, and you certainly don't think I am good enough for Elain. But don’t worry, I'll keep my distance, as ordered. I wouldn't want to risk upsetting your perfect little court or ruining your plans for peace. Just tell me who else is off limits, so I know who else I'm not good enough for. Maybe Gwyn? Because remember, ‘don’t you dare to pressure her’?"

Rhys sighed, his gaze softening slightly. "Azriel, it's not about who you're 'good enough' for and who you aren't. It's about respecting people's choices and boundaries. Elain has made her choice in Lucien, and I just want to protect her and the peace we've worked so hard to maintain. And no, nobody else is off limits. You're free to…'seek your entertainment' as you please."

His entertainment. 

Right. 

Azriel snorted, the sound full of derision. “It warms my heart that you give me that permission,” Azriel said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Rhys rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by Azriel's reaction. "I'm not trying to 'give you permission,' Azriel," he said firmly. "I'm just trying to make sure you understand why I'm asking you to behave. I care about you and our inner circle. You're my brother, but I also care about Elain and her happiness. I don't want to see anyone get hurt."

“Have I done anything, anything at all that put her happiness in jeopardy?” Azriel asked, his voices harsh. “I kept away as you ordered. I fucking saved Lucien’s life, so she could be happy.”

"You haven't done anything wrong," Rhys acknowledged, his tone softening. "You've been a better friend to Elain than anyone could have asked. You saved Luicen because you are a good person, not just for Elain's sake. But I still think it’s best if you keep your distance. Not just for her, but for yourself too. Dwelling on feelings that can’t be returned will only bring you pain."

“For cauldron’s sake, Rhys,” Cassian said with a sigh.

Rhys turned his attention to him, the exasperation clear in his eyes. "What, Cassian?" he asked, his tone weary.

Cassian rubbed a hand over his jaw, shaking his head. "You’re so hell bent on keeping the peace you forget that the people in your court have feelings too," he said. "Azriel isn’t some emotionless soldier doing your bidding. He has feelings and desires, just like everyone else. And sometimes it’s not as simple as just moving on."

"I know that," Rhys said, running a hand through his hair. "But sometimes we have to put our own feelings aside for the greater good. As a High Lord, I have to think about the impact my actions could have on others. I'm not trying to shut down Azriel's feelings. I'm just trying to protect him from potential pain.”

“Yeah you did a shitty job at that,” Cassian said drily. “You could have told Mor hundred of years ago to have a conversation with him. You didn’t. But Azriel is supposed to tread carefully not to make her or Emerie uncomfortable. Azriel is supposed to behave?”

Rhys's eyes flashed in anger. "I know I've made mistakes, Cassian. I should have handled things differently with Mor and Azriel. But I can't change the past. All I can do is try to make the best decisions for everyone involved right now."

“You don’t even fucking realise how much of a self important hypocritical asshole you are, do you?” Azriel asked flatly. “It’s okay for you to pursue an engaged female that’s engaged to another High Lord, damn the consequences. But the rest of us…we are told to behave.”

Rhys bristled at Azriel’s words, his own temper threatening to flare. "That's different, Azriel," he said, his voice sharp. "That’s different and you know it. You would understand if you had a…” he hesitated.

"If I had a what?" Azriel prompted sharply.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, his fingers clenching around his mug. "A mate."

“Rhys,” Cassian said carefully.

"What?" Rhys snapped, his temper still simmering just below the surface. “He doesn’t have a mate, he doesn’t fucking understand it.”

Aaaaaand…. Azriel was done.

So fucking done. 

“Where are you going?” Rhys demanded as he stood up.

“Home,” Azriel said flatly. “You have my gifts, hand them out. Wish Feyre a Happy Birthday, will you? I’ll be back to do your bidding in about 3 days, High Lord.” 

“I highly doubt that your mother will enjoy your impromptu appearance at Rosehall,” Rhys said. Azriel’s hand twitched towards Truthteller. “Let’s just…”

“Rhysand!” Cassian snapped.

“What?” Rhys asked. 

“I have talked to my mother once since the Sealing of Velaris was lifted,” Azriel said tightly. “One conversation where she told me that she found a new family and that I should keep away from her. So no, Rhys. I am not going to Rosehall.”

Rhys looked utterly shell-shocked by Azriel’s revelation. "Azriel, I..." he started, but Azriel simply shook his head.

"Don't," he said. "Just don't." He didn’t wnat to talk about it. He never wanted to talk about that. His mother could do whatever she wanted. he would leave her alone, just as requested. But he was not going to talk about it. 

“Then I am coming with you. You are not spending Winter Solstice alone brooding at the House of Wind,” Cassian said quickly, standing. 

“I am not going to the House of Wind either.” Azriel answered flatly. “I am going home to my house and I won’t be alone either.”

"What do you mean you won't be alone?" Rhys asked sharply.

Azriel just snorted, “My mate will be there,” he said simply. “She’s better company than any of you.”

“Your...your mate?” Rhys repeated, his eyes widening.

Cassian gaped at Azriel. "Your mate? Why didn’t you tell us? Who is she?"

“Why should I tell you? ” Azriel gave back his voice icy. “I may trust you with this court, Rhysand, but I do not trust you with anything I love. Not anymore.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Wound Care

Wound care - involves cleaning a wound, flushing or irrigating it with pressurized water or an antiseptic solution, and applying or changing a dressing.

Immediate Wound Care

Applying direct pressure to control any bleeding

Examining the wound for dirt and foreign objects after any bleeding has stopped

Cleaning the wound by gently flooding it with saline solution if available, with bottled water, or with clean running water

Gently cleansing the area around the wound with soap and clean water

Patting the area dry and covering it with an adhesive bandage or clean dry cloth

Leaving uncovered bites, punctures, and wounds that cannot be properly cleaned to prevent trapping bacteria that could result in infection

Aftercare

Aimed at preventing infection.

Puncture wounds or contaminated wounds may require a tetanus booster shot.

Dressings should never be reused.

Any soiled laundry from wound care procedures should be washed separately from other laundry, possibly with bleach.

Sometimes a wound-drainage culture is used to test for bacteria, fungi, or viruses in open wounds from punctures, cuts, tears, or surgical incisions or abscesses.

Abscesses require making a small incision in the skin to obtain pus or fluid from the wound.

The tip of a sterile cotton swab or a syringe and small needle (needle aspiration) is used to remove the sample for culturing.

Some Terminology

Aerobe—Bacteria that require oxygen to live.

Alginate—Colloidal substances from marine brown algae, especially giant kelp, that are used for wound dressings.

Anaerobe—Bacteria that live only where there is no oxygen.

Antiseptic—Chemicals applied to the skin to destroy bacteria and prevent infection.

Autolytic—Self-digestion; breakdown of tissue by the body’s own enzymes.

Debridement—The removal of cut, dead, or contaminated tissue.

Dehiscence—The opening of sutures from a surgical incision.

Dressing—The covering of a wound.

Exudate—Drainage from a wound; an exudative wound is one that drains fluid and pus.

Hydrocolloid—Dressing material that turns into a gel when combined with watery drainage.

Hydrogel—A water-based dressing material.

Hydrophilic—Dressing material that absorbs water.

Irrigation—Flushing or washing out a wound.

Necrotic—Dead tissue.

Normal flora—The mixture of bacteria normally found at specific body sites.

Normal saline—Physiological saline; a solution of 0.9% sodium chloride, the approximate salt concentrate of blood and tissues.

Tetanus—Lockjaw; a rare but often fatal infection caused by the bacterium Clostridium tetani that lives in soil, dust, and manure.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References More: Writing Realistic Injuries ⚜ On Anatomy ⚜ On Wounds

[certifiedsexed]

You know what genital condition hurts worse than anything else I've ever experienced, and I'd never encountered at all before I developed one?

A Bartholin abscess. I feel like it's important for people to know about them; they're painful, debilitating, misunderstood, and often dismissed by non-specialist doctors as 'going away by themselves'. The gynecologist I saw with my most recent one said she treats 20+ of them a week, but nobody talks about them. There certainly weren't any clinic posters talking about them. Plenty about STIs and pap smears, but no Bartholin awareness.

I would encourage anyone who's factory plumbing came with a vagina, or who cares about someone with that plumbing, to put Safesearch or the search engine equivalent on (because the images that pop up are the worst case scenario, and also NSFW if you're at school/in the office) and look into Bartholin cysts and the abscesses that come from them. The wiki page is a good starting point.

If you notice a lump near the opening of your vagina, get medical help. Don't wait and see if it goes away. My first one I was so depressed that I just pretended it wasn't there, and it went from the size of a grain of rice to the size of a peach in under a week. Imagine something the size of a peach under the skin of your inner labia.

These abscesses do eventually rupture and drain, which stops them hurting somewhat though they still have to heal, but until then the sheer size and painfulness impedes walking, sitting, using the toilet, cleaning after using the toilet, and just about everything else. The pain I had was extraordinary and entirely debilitating, I can't understate that. It's an area with a lot of nerve endings and very good blood flow, you know?

The second one I had I started treatment with Flucloxacillin on day two and it didn't get anywhere near as big or as painful. It still hurt a little, got to about the size of a grape, and still popped after about ten days, but I was able to continue working and mostly get along as normal.

I've been told that once you've had one they're likely to come back unless you get medical intervention so it really is key to not ignore them.

Sorry to be hijacking, I know this isn't entirely about sex ed as such, but like... I went to a school in a liberal area with fairly comprehensive sex ed which included frank and open discussions around health and diseases, and I've been around on the internet for a decade since as well, and had never heard of these until I developed one. I'm still recovering from the most recent episode, and really do not want anyone else to sprout one of these and have no idea what's happening or be dismissed by a doctor and not have the knowledge to advocate for themselves.

I don't think this is hijacking at all. I think this' great information to share, thank you! [This is an article about Bartholin cysts/abscesses, for anyone interested.]

[beefcakekinard]

They climb into Tommy's truck, their doors slamming shut one after another. Tommy reaches for the ignition but Evan's hand on his forearm stops him. He looks to his right, to Evan, who looks back at him with a smile like the sunlight dappled by leaves just earlier.

"Thank you," Evan says. Tommy looks into his eyes. Only his eyes. Nowhere else.

"You're welcome," he says; he places his hand on top of Evan's and squeezes. "Do you feel better?"

Evan scrunches up his face. It does... interesting... things to the abscesses spattered across his skin. "Emotionally, yeah. Physically, though..."

"Hmm." Tommy leans across the centre console and pecks his lips against Evan's. A sore grazes the side of his nose. Tommy can't hold back the full-body shudder that rolls through him.

Evan groans and pushes Tommy back by a hand in his face. Tommy grins, grabs Evan's hand, kisses his knuckles, and prays this curse is over.

[gladiatorcunt]

I want to be non conned by Anakin ☹️

the first time i saw this ask, i was eating chicken nuggets (safe food moment) and was like "damn me too 😔." (obvious tw non con, choking, canon sw universe ani, delusional and obsessive behavior, forced pregnancy/baby trapping, reader has a pussy, use of the word “wife” in a gender roles way and “pillow princess”)

anakin can do nearly every variation and flavor of non con imo, his canon character allows for a lot of flexibility in that area. there's the soft and sweet gentle non con where he's smoothing his hands up and down your back as his thrusts bury you in the sheets. he's not crying, just a little teary because it feels so good and maybe you'll finally listen to him about how the two of you are meant to be together. that's very aotc anakin coded to me, not that rots!anakin couldn't do it like that in the right circumstances (and how you behave and react to certain situations).

for example in the beginning of aotc, and you're another padawan who's formed an unnatural bond with ani over the years. he's anxious to be knighted and you can tell that his mood is dampening more and more every day. all he says is that he has trouble sleeping, nightmares and obi-wans' karking loud snoring. you giggle and fall for the misdirection, tugging him over to the sparring mat. the next time you meet, you hear more about padmé and their history. he's being assigned to protect her so he can't be your training partner for the time being.

it's noble, of course, it's unbecoming of a jedi to be anything other than happy to see anakin follow the path you always knew he could. he has a light in his eyes you haven't seen in weeks and you attribute that to a person rather than considering the possibility that he's happy because he finally has a purpose. but you're 20 years old, being a (hopefully) future jedi master doesn't grant you any extra wisdom when it comes to love. you don't think much of pulling away, ani is going to have his hands full (of what you refuse to think further on) and you should start sorting out your priorities.

you've just made the biggest mistake of your life. outside the room where the senator is peacefully slumbering away, anakin can't stop overthinking and wondering what he did wrong. why haven't you been answering his messages, he's told you so many times that he could fix your holopad for you. he's so deep in thought that he barely makes it in time to terminate the insects deployed to poison padmé and chase after the assassin. he doesn't know that this time apart has allowed you to have an epiphany, and that you'll be gone by the time he comes back from naboo. perhaps there was more to the galaxy than being a jedi.

he tracks you down after his mother dies, feeling adrift without you and high off the adrenaline of indulging the darker parts of his soul. he wouldn't even have known you were leaving had it not been for a concerned message from obi-wan. you didn't even leave coruscant, you wandered down into the lower levels like you were waiting to die. well you don't get to do that without him, so he pins you down on the sorry excuse for a bed you've bought yourself and tells you that this must be what it feels like to make love. your tears mingle as you kiss slowly and flames lick at his back as you drag your hands down his flesh. he murmurs that it's okay, he can't lose you too and he knows just what to do, plenty of couples in the galaxy settle down young. he'd never abandon you, to leave behind what he has allowed to grow into his skin like an abscess is aberrant to the core of anakin's very being.

your pussy parts like the petals of a flower as he pushes his leaky cock into you, and it's so beautiful with his cum seeping out that he knows the force incarnate is between your thighs. you're still sniffling, and your nipples feel bitten to shreds, and that's alright. marriage day jitters are normal, he can only imagine how much more you'll glow when you have a piece or two of the force's son growing in your womb. he blushes and stammers when he asks you to keep his cum in and not touch yourself while he's gone, excited at the prospect of playing husband and wife until the mission is over and you can have a real wedding.

you tell yourself that you hated what your best friend did to you, but you keep your hand away from your begging cunt and smother yourself with the spare cloak he left behind. in a way, desire pools in your gut at the thought that you have to be forced to come out of your shell. you know anakin has grown up too hungry to hate fighting for his meal, and he has done enough proving himself. the flecks of blood matting the hair at the nape of his neck flashes through your mind as you grind your hips up against nothing. his movements were awkward at the first, but his sheer determination and passion had your brain leaking out of your ears by the end.

you remember feeling his dick twitch when you tensed, and he thought that you would attempt to fight but you only moaned and kept his head tucked away in the crook of your shoulder. the force radiated of embarrassed satisfaction that grew more confident with every squeak and groan. he liked seeing the fight drain out of your eyes more than the idea of you actually following through on it. your soresu never quite matched up to his anyway.

then there's the harder version. you resist more in whatever scenario and you delude yourself into thinking that anakin is the kind of dog that would throw away the bone he's chomping down on when he's bored of it. he manhandles you and tosses you around the room, shoving his cock up to the hilt and snarling at you to know who is doing this to you and love him anyway. your snot slides down the wall and your face is smushed against the peeling paint, blood drips down his length when he pulls out and he actually pouts in disappointment when he misses a few drops as he scoops it up with his fingers and takes them into his mouth. you're dizzy as he chokes you, your head spins when he spanks you while forcing you to ride his face. you will stare down the lightsaber handle of his devotion and push the button without hesitation.

you'd likely end up pregnant and waiting on your jedi husband to fall from one pedestal after the other. but the one reserved for the man of the house is guarded by you and your children, he bends over the gilded railing and kisses the breath out of your lungs. even when that pedestal drips with tar and becomes an ominous throne. this is a story that happened so long ago after all, nothing can be done to alter events that have already come to pass.

BUT ANYWAY, his prosthetic arm would also be a big focus in non con. no matter how hard he's ruining you or beating your body up, there will always be undeniable and inevitable love in it for anakin. punishments involving impact are dulled down and reduced to only his flesh hand. even in the gentler non con situations, he's so careful and aware of where his mechanical arm is at all times and what it's doing. there is no bruise he wants to give you when you did not deserve them, he offers it as a cooling balm of sorts to your heated skin in the aftermath. he likes to watch you lather the metal digits in spit as you suckle while you come down from your forced high, sometimes he swears he can feel the ridges of your tongue slide along the smooth surface.

he's so in love.

even with non con, i actually don't see anakin being all that verbal right after he cums. he'll have to calm down a bit before he can start speaking. but he'll silently nuzzle you and caress the spots on your body you wouldn't really think about, like the side of your sore tit and right on the plush flesh above your left hip bone. very touch you know and if you're able to pick up on it i imagine he would send out calming energy and just pure love into the force. but it's so intense you think you can see the smoke vapors rising up from your skin. visions of the future are shared between you, as well as eventual whispered promises of you being the crown jewel of his new empire. imagine the elaborate nurseries, putting the children to bed and then getting countless orgasms as thanks for being the best wife and parent in the galaxy. but he's sure to remind you that no one would ever love you more than anakin, even your children.

and i don't see him dipping into non con somno much other than the initial tease to your wet cunt and inserting his hard cock into your hole. the slow creep into your room, the creak of your bed as he settles his weight down, the soft woosh of the blanket being pulled off your gorgeous body. he'd want you to wake up and thrash around for a few seconds before giving in to how good he knows he's making you feel. because he knows perfectly well he could send out suggestions into the force that you put you deeply asleep and without chance of ever waking up until he wants you to. but your genuine reactions are so cute, playing with his soulmate is only fun if you can actively participate.

whether that be by crying or humping him desperately or clawing trenches down his back or riding him on the rare occasion your hormones have overpowered your pillow princess tendencies.

also this isn't non con related but in terms of love languages: other than physical touch, i think words of affirmation is a big one for him. actually being verbally reassured and given sweet nothings of his own to tuck away between his robes for him to focus on as he cuts down any threat to your eternal happiness. being told that he is worthy of love and that he's an incredible jedi, i think just being told that you're proud of him and that he hasn't spent years trying to be somebody to someone for nothing. blah blah he internalizes so much that it would help him to be given an opportunity to express those feelings blah etc etc and having you validate him would render his need to be on the council largely useless etc.

(he would unironically kill to be your alpha in an a/b/o setting i fear)

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Could you do a Lookalike reader getting his hooves or ears brushed / cleaned by Alastor in a similar vein to the antler one? Maybe a standalone mini series of 'Parts I wanted to include in the main series but couldn't find space for it.'

I would be so up for that.

Hey man, thanks for the ask! I think I went a bit off-topic here, but I still think it's hot so I'm gonna post it. I've put a line for the more squeamish readers to stop at. Caveat emptor and all that.

Pairing: Alastor X reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings: they/them pronouns, reader is a hermaphrodite, Foot stuff, Hoof stuff, scent glands, DEER THINGS, slight sexual content, Alastor being fucking weird

You didn’t know what was wrong with you at first. You’d held a variety of jobs during your mortal life, but vet wasn’t one of them. What you knew about medicine you knew from backwoods surgery, and what you knew about deer physiology was limited to the things that made their meat unsafe for consumption, the telltale lesions and growths on a carcass that meant it got burned or buried rather than butchered. This wasn’t one of those things.

There was a hard lump on the front of your leg, above where the keratin of your two standing nails ended and below the level of your dewclaws, close to the webbing of skin where your two toes joined. On a human this would have been the shin, but for you it felt more like your tarsal.

It had been small at first, and you had ignored it. Then it had grown larger, painful as it had rubbed against the tongue of your boot. Today you had limped your way through your shift at the hotel, your smile more of a grimace than anything that could genuinely be describes as cheerful, and retreated to the room you shared with Alastor as soon as your contract no longer compelled you to work.

Now you lay in the four-footed bathtub in Alastor’s ensuite bathroom, examining your hoof more thoroughly. Was this an abscess? Did you need to lance it? Your skin graded to a dark grey towards your red nails, so it was difficult to gauge the lump’s condition from color as it would be on a paler part of you. You were pushing at the lump with your fingers, feeling the heat of inflamed flesh when Alastor materialized from the shadows at the bathroom door, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What are you doing here?”

You hadn’t expected him to return to the room for hours, and even then, he generally gave you privacy when you were cleaning yourself. Fear shot through you like a cold wave in your stomach, the feeling of being caught, and you fought the reflex to hide your leg from Alastor. Your career as a serial killer would have been short-lived if you weren’t able to hide guilt, after all. “Do you mind?” you said, broadcasting annoyance.

Alastor looked unimpressed, taking a step closer. “I asked you a question,” he said.

“I would think it’s fairly apparent, but right now I was thinking of cutting my nails,” you lied, smoothly. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, looking for you,” said Alastor, his gaze settling on the red tips of your hooves. “I was about to cook dinner for everyone, and I could do with a sous chef who doesn’t try to boil themselves every time I set a pot of water on the heat or drink all the wine before it goes in the sauce.” He moved closer, arms behind his back. “Though I suppose those are getting rather long,” he said, eyes still on your standing nails, the two red points on the end of each of your hooves. “Let me help you with that.”

“No, I couldn’t put you out,” you raised a hand in protest, but Alastor was already in the space with you, bending to fetch a pedicure kit full of small knives, curved clippers and different grades of files from the cupboard that stood next to the basin.

“Nonsense, my dear, pure nonsense.” Alastor took a seat on the painted metal stool that lived next to the tub and looked down at you, teeth gleaming. “I hope you don’t mean to say I’m not up to the task.”

“Of course not,” you frowned, and Alastor clicked his tongue in disapproval as he took your good leg in his hand.

Disapproval at your facial expression did nothing to stop Alastor’s roving hands, however, the hand that was holding your leg stroking down the arch of your foot to the pads beneath as he fetched a pair of clippers from the box at his feet. The touch was pleasant, and deliberate, and the clippers resembled a pair of secateurs more than anything else, the sort that could easily remove a thumb if applied correctly.

“If you cut to here-” Alastor took your hand, pulling it to the pad of your hoof, where the flesh was attached to the backside of the nail, and traced a line, dragging your finger alongside his. “-the hoof will be too short, and you’ll injure yourself walking-” You listened carefully as Alastor talked, moving your fingers over your hoof so that you would know his instructions by touch. It would have been a relaxing, bonding activity, if it weren’t for the aching lump on your leg, and your growing anxiety at it being discovered. Alastor’s hands were gentle on the pads beneath your hooves, holding your leg perfectly steady as he made each cut.

He moved to your other leg, and you were sure he would notice the lump, but he said nothing, either ignorant or letting you stew in your own embarrassment as you lay in the warm bathwater, his skilled fingers squeezing the arch of your hoof, thumb brushing against your dewclaws as he repeated the process, leaving you enough length in your nail that you would be able to walk comfortably. Sweeping the red slivers of your hooves aside, Alastor took a pair of files from the box, one coarse, one fine, and you felt the vibrations through the nail and through the bones of your leg as he filed down the rough edges. He did it slowly, watching your face as he drew the file back and forth with a gradual movement, the sensation something like a shiver as the metal abraded the surface. When he was done, he ran a thumb over each edge, feeling for imperfections.

Alastor brushed away the fine pink dust with his hand and smiled at his handiwork. “There. That’s better, don’t you agree?”

You nodded, something like relief flooding through you when Alastor hadn’t addressed the problem. You were free to deal with it. Privately.

[nb: if you just wanted hoof clipping, stop reading here]

“And it’s high time we did something about that,” said Alastor, gaze sliding over your bad leg, and your sense of relief shattered. “After all, you didn’t really think there was any part of yourself that you could keep a secret from me, did you?” Alastor’s smile turned cruel, his finger tracing a gentle line up between the two toes of your cloven hoof to the lump, even the light pressure he applied excruciating, and you held your breath to not cry out. “You were limping, darling,” he continued, voice chiding. “I was worried.”

You blinked away tears of pain, studying Alastor’s expression. Really, you’d been embarrassed more than anything- the horror that the strange lump might be due to a failure of basic hygiene on your part, but the way that Alastor examined it without surprise told you that it was an issue he was at least familiar with. Maybe something he’d dealt with on his own body, in his early days in Hell.

“You know what it is?” you asked.

Alastor hummed, his fingers trailing down the freshly pedicured red keratin of your nails and round to the soft pads of flesh that sat behind them, pressing and probing. Oh, that felt nice. “You’ve field dressed a deer before,” he said, chiding. “You really should know this yourself.”

You sank a little deeper into the bath, pouting. “I was a hunter, not a veterinarian. I cut the hooves off before skinning. Dried them sometimes.”

“And I thought you were a curious person.” Alastor smiled to himself, seeming to enjoy having such an advantage over you. “But I suppose I should educate you.” His fingers ceased their massage of your spongy underfoot, and he parted your toes, his touch on the web of skin where the two of them joined. “You have a scent gland here,” he said, pressing his finger against a narrow vertical slit on your dark skin, less than an inch in length. Like the lump above it, it was tender. “It’s blocked. You should have come to me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” You felt your ears drop, your leg relaxing a little in Alastor’s grip,

“That is quite the hangdog look you have.” Alastor’s smile grew thin, and he reached over to cup your cheek. “Fear not, I know a remedy.” His fingers lingered, tracing the grim line of your mouth. “It will be painful though, you think you can grin and bear it?”

Alastor always wanted a smile from you, but especially in difficult situations. You weren’t sure if it was sadism, a test, or some twisted beneficence on his part. “Of course,” you said.

“I will hold you to that, dearest,” said Alastor, raising your hoof to his lips. It was all you could do not to gasp when he ran his tongue between your two standing toes, laving the pad of each, a pleasurable but alien sensation. It made it easy to smile for him, and his eyes met yours, the corners creasing with approval. His hand cupped the back of your leg, the part that your brain still fuzzily equated to the arch of your foot, long fingers stroking the lines of the tendons. You had been intimate with him enough times that there was no terror for you in his teeth, only the disconcerting sensation of sharpness as he pressed his mouth to your spread toes, his lips a seal around your scent gland, and sucked.

To describe the sensation as pain was technically correct, but it would be like describing standing within a meter of a working jet engine as loud, or the sea as wet. It was a nerve pain, a primal sensation of wrongness. Pain conducted through the bones of your leg to your stomach and your spine, making you queasy and tearful all at once. But you had promised you would smile through this, so you fought for conscious control of your face, forcing your breathing into a slow, steady rhythm, pushing the tension that had collected in your shoulders down as you lay back in the bath, the corners of your mouth up. You spread the fingers of your hands over the lip of the bathtub, palms outward, arms trembling, and Alastor clasped one of your hands in his, squeezing.

Tears rolled hot down your face as Alastor continued, the sensation unrelenting, the only sound in the room your breathing and the low frequency hum from the lights above you. You were still smiling when Alastor’s thumb hooked around your leg, pressing into the cyst above your scent gland. More pain. A whimper in your throat that you could no longer suppress, the curve of your mouth a forced one. Alastor squeezed your hand tighter as he pushed, or perhaps you were squeezing his, and you felt movement in the gland, the inflamed tissue shifting as the blockage was pushed out. You sobbed once and it was gone, replaced by the sensation of pressure being released, Alastor’s tongue moving between your toes.

Alastor raised his mouth from your hoof, his eyes half-lidded and sultry. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he said, sweetly, and all of a sudden it was easy to smile again, his hand no longer in yours as he used both hands to handle and inspect your hoof. “Nearly done now.”

You peered at your hoof, the toes still splayed as Alastor massaged the cyst with his thumb. Your scent gland wept, oily yellow fluid spilling from it. It stank, an earthy, musky smell filling the room. Alastor could smell it- anything with a nose would be able to, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as Alastor kept your leg firmly in hand. He had probably tasted it, too.

“Guess I should rinse that off,” you said, your smile turning wry as you wrinkled your nose, trying to hide the mix of horror and shame that you felt.

“Absolutely not,” said Alastor firmly, lowering his head to your hoof and lapping at the mess with his tongue, his breath hot between your toes. Fuck. Your stomach tightened at the sight of it, the noise of his tongue almost obscene in the quiet of the bathroom. It was disgusting and erotic all at once, Alastor’s eyes fixing yours with a fervid intensity as he breathed in your scent, and you found yourself hard, the throbbing pain that you’d felt moments before receding to arousal like a curtain revealing a stage.

If Alastor noticed your state, he chose not to acknowledge it, instead teasing the last of your scent from your gland with his mouth and his thumb and planting a soft kiss over the abused tissue; one that was painful by most people’s definitions of pain, but from him it was almost romantic, his lips the barest pressure. You knew better than to raise the matter- that would make him tease you, at best, leave you aching and unfulfilled. What Alastor gave was on his own terms.

“Incomparable, as ever,” Alastor murmured, as if what he had eaten had been drizzled across a plate in a Michelin starred restaurant and not licked fresh from between your toes. “You will come to me for these things in future, hm?”

“Is that a request?” you asked, a rough edge to your voice.

“Given your reaction, I don’t think it’s too tall an order, do you?” Alastor flashed his teeth, flirtatious and sinister all at once.

[featherwurm]

Tav doesn't think much about her scar, she got more than a decade ago, and it's healed up alright (a gnoll flind got her right in the face with her spear, punching all the way through her cheek but thankfully missing her eye), but Karlach knows how good a deep massage to break up scar tissue can feel, and Tav is more than happy for her to make use of her strong, warm hands.

A couple years ago I had to have my port* removed as an emergency surgery because it abscessed (thankfully after I was done with chemo) this meant it had to heal from the bottom up rather than being closed with sutures** and involved four months of wound packing*** to get it to finally close (it was estimated to close in two weeks - it took fifteen, including being debrided with silver nitrate twice by my surgeon). Anyway, suffice to say it's left a deep scar that's been bugging me lately and massaging out chunks of scar tissue hurts but feels better after. Got one the other night that really hurt, but something in there has stopped pinching at least.

*A portacath on my chest, under my skin - it went into my superior vena cava to reduce the stress of the chemo drugs on my veins.

**Removed under local anesthesia. It was placed under general anesthesia.

***The wound was about three inches deep and an inch wide.

[icarusredwings]

Bad Kitty secret part three!!!???

Tw: Drowning, unconscious medically needed touching, graphic descriptions of distress, pain, and medical conditions/ open wounds. Some scenes may be uncomfortable. Viewer discretion is advised.

For @shittyvampire and @whiskeyandcigarsmoke

Fixing him up took a bit longer than he thought it would, seeing as each type of wound had different needs to subside. Overall, it was a pretty easy process, Just tedious.

He put him in a hot bath, letting him soak as he did his best to pop what he could while he was unconscious, cleaning them with sterilizing gel after cutting small holes into the abscess’ in order for them to drain.

“Ew” He muttered, immediately shaking his head and biting his tongue. He shouldn't say those things. What if he had heard that? Logan knew it was one of his biggest no-nos. Besides, It's not like it was his fault. This just.. happened.. sometimes.

Maybe he panicked when he wasn't there and it caused his skin to get worse? He heard that sometimes when you get stressed out you could break out in hives. Maybe this was Wade's version of that.

As for the blisters and boils, he helped the best and quickest he could, sometimes holding him under the water if he started to smell a little too conscious. The longer he held him, the more limp he would be, easier for him to work with.

At times though, Logan would quickly recoil, jerking him back up out of the water, his instincts telling him to save him.

“Damn it- come on. Get it together.” He grumbles, biting himself as he pushes him back under. Feeling the weak struggles made him tear up, singular tears falling as he looked away. He wasn't cut out for this anymore.

The thought alone made him realize that.. holy shit.. he was now the worst at what he was made for. He couldn't even bare to stab him in the head anymore, so what use would he be as a weapon to them? To anyone?

He was the shittiest weapon there was. And this made him smile. He couldn't wait to tell him. To tell Wade that…

His smile subsides as he realizes his hopes were not as real as he wished them to be… He killed him. Twice by now. He couldn't be so excited to tell him how excited he was that he was no longer a person whose hands bring nothing but pain when said hand right this second was drowning him, watching the bubbles come out of the water with little reaction. A stare of pity and that was all.

The consciousness in his chest felt heavier than Wade's limp wet limbs. With sorrow weighing down the lids of his, Logan's deadpanned straight forward stare looked as bout as mindless as a fox with rabies, trying its damndest to find help. Walking forward with no distinction of where it was actually headed. The glossiness over his eyes showing just how much he dreaded having a soul.

Placing him down on a towel in their bed, Logan takes a deep breath. He washes his hands, pats the still oozing crevasses dry, wiping them clean before dousing him in rubbing alcohol. Just hearing the sizzling And seeing the bubbling makes him feel terrible. The thought of catching him on fire, letting his body regenerate came to mind. He wiped this memory away just as he did the excess lipids, beginning to look at the various creams they had, smearing Neosporin, Lotions, Cocoa butter balms, and petroleum jelly all over him, different stuff in various places.

Carefully, he begins to unravel the gauze that he found in the kit, looking at the cotton padding and plaster dressing. Logan didn't have much knowledge of how he was supposed to wrap each individual wound (especially with the short amount of time he had left) but he made sure to make them tight enough to where they wouldn't fall off if he moved or walked around.

Hell.. by the time he was finished with him, he looked like a full body burn patient. Which.. honestly wasn't too far off. He had even done all that he could for his half deteriorated cheek.. he knew that hurt. Especially since The skin there was completely gone, exposing rotting muscle and thin layers of fat in between cancerous polyps.

Part of Logan felt bad for scrunching and turning up his nose, overwhelmed by the sickly sweet stench of death, Vaseline, rubbing alcohol, hand sanitizer, and many more scents that made him feel as if he were playing doctor.

Oh That's it!! When he woke up that's what he'd say. He'd tell him that they were playing Dr. Kitty and hopefully- Just maybe, he'd understand. Now.. the real trouble would be trying to change his bandages tomorrow. One could only pray that he was more cooperative.

Logan had dressed him in a long sleeve loose hoodie and comfortable sweats. He (falsely) had it in his head that this would deter him from picking at his scabs.

Looking down at his work, he felt a sense of pride and relief wash over him, though it didn't last long. ‘Shit- did I let that blister on his leg drain all the way?’ He thought, letting out another disappointed sigh as he propped a pillow under his neck, one under his really bad leg too to reduce the swelling.

Alright. So he wasn't the BEST wolverine… But he'd settle for ‘okay'. If he was the Okay-est Wolverine… He'd be okay with that.

But for now? All he had to do was Wait. He should wake up any moment and he definitely didn't want him to be afraid.

A total of 8 minutes pass before he hears that small gasp of air that makes his shoulders soften and his heart rate regulates every time.

Wade blinks, trying to sit up but is being held tightly by a certain worrisome Wolverine. A bit tight too. He was surrounded by his stuffies, his arms felt… Warm.. but a nice kind of warm. Leaning his head back against him, He turns his head, trying to nuzzle him only to realize that his face was wrapped too, hat And hood pulled up.

“...Hi..”

Logan almost jumps, as if nervous. He could feel him swallowing, hearing the gears in his head turning, thinking of what to say.

“Hi kiddo I uhm… we were playing doctor a-and erm.. you had a lot of booboos.” He says, his voice overly gentle.

Raising a non-existent brow, Wade blinked, turning back to look at him. “Logan… Why do I look like a mummy? I mean I'm cool if you're into that but jeez warn a gal first, wontcha?” He mutters playfully.

It was as if a massive wave of relief fell over him, shoulders dropping in relaxation as he groaned. “Oh thank fuck.. No! Never I just.. you.. you must have freaked out and given yourself a break out or.. something? I don't know but..”

Wade could tell he didn't want to talk about whatever it was. He assumed he was just being fussy earlier. He didn't remember much but he felt his body itch. “Sorry… Sooo what are we watchin’ Wolvie?” He asked, Itching his arm only for Logan to gently take it, giving him a squeeze. A small “Don't” leaving his lips. “Some doctor girl show… I thought.. it would be easier to explain if..”

Leaning further into Wade's neck, he was acting as if something was wrong. “... do you feel okay? OR-other then the itching?” Itchy was good. It meant he was healing. Ripping open his scabs? Not so much.

“I feel better than before.. I had this weird nightmare though that you were trying to strangle me to death. Ha! But that's normal right?” He smiles, dreaming often of his loved ones killing him. Either that or unicorns and tacos while committing murder. That was always a fun dream. “Oh! or the one where I can fly.” He responds to his own thoughts. As per usual.

Logan now looked like a guilty dog who's gotten in the trash. “...That wasn't a dream, Wade..” He whispers, sitting up as he pulls himself away from him, as if he didn't deserve his cuddles. He Had a plan to take this secret to the grave but the guilt was eating him up inside, gnawing on his heart and crunching up his bones. It felt like it was snapping pencils in his stomach and then jabbing them through his lungs.

Looking at him with A neutral face, Wade's mind was working to click it all together, staring at him with such wide, curious eyes. At times they flickered, biting his tongue as he listened to what the Jury in his head had to say. Multiple assuming and yelling various conspiracies. Though he decided to go with one that they could all agree on.

“...I'm sorry for being so difficult..” he mumbles, looking at his lap and then away, remembering almost all of it now. “I don't mean to be..”

Logan goes to grab his hand again only for him to instinctively pull it away, close to his chest, Afraid he might possibly try to strangle him again. He knew why he did it. He would have done way worse, but still, emotionally he was spooked. Just a bit.

While he breathed and searched his body language for ill intentions, Logan's hand never left the spot it was in the air, offering him to take it when he was ready.

"Are.. are you mad at me?" He finally spoke after Wade took the hand, pulling him back into him. He wanted to be held, coddled, loved. And this is exactly what Logan gave him, Wrapping his arms around him and letting Wade snuggle into his cheek.

"...no..” He decided, listening to his feelings, slowly learning to embrace them instead of hiding them away. That's what caused this whole break out to begin with.

“I still feel a little... scared.. but I know why you had to do it.. and... It was pretty hot that you did all that just to help me.. even if I literally stabbed you.."

“I strangled you, tried to poison you, suffocated you, drugged you, drowned you, and you're apologizing for stabbing me once?”

“...and for throwing a lot of stuff at your head..” He gives his forehead a kiss, trying to rub his face, knowing how much he loved that, his fingers through the coarse hairs on his jaw.

“You have incredible aim for a kid..” He grumbles.

“You did what you had to do to help me. I'm so proud of you..” He starts; wanting to take care of his Wolvie for his hard work.

“stop…”

“No really. You shouldn't have had to do all those things but you did, just to keep me out of pain. I don't think anyone else would have the balls to suffocate a kid, Peanut.”

He groans, upset that he said this but it was true, shifting to hide in Wade's chest as now it was his turn to be taken care of, praised And told how much he appreciates and loves him.

After getting some snacks, Logan forcing him to take pain medication, Puppins hopping up on the bed, and Althea throwing a fit as to why the floor in the living room was so slippery, followed by Logan cleaning it up, Wade was happy.

Very happy actually, finally getting to eat the sub that Logan brought home, petting Puppins, and snuggling his big sensitive wolvie, who was clinging to him as if Lady Death herself would come take him away. But don't worry, Peanut. He was banned from ever being with her anyway. She never could see him longer than a couple of minutes.

“And that's a good thing for you isn't it, kitten?”

“What?”

“Oh- nevermind....… Hey Logan..?”

He could feel the man swallow as he glanced up to him. “.. yeah?”

“You're the best kitty I could have asked for…. And her name is Doc McStuffins you uncultured swine.”

The man scoffs, smiling ridiculously large, hiding his face in his collarbone. “I hate you.” He teases, Slapping Wade's hand for itching his bandages.

“Hey! Ow!”

“Stop scratching.”

“Oh, that's it. You're bad again.”

“Aw man..”