#neosporin forever

[quidcumque]

My cat objected to the process of removing the piece of poop she had hanging from her ass

[badolmen]

Listen being in your 20s doesn’t mean you’re old; you’ve barely been able to do anything without direct adult supervision at this point but also it makes me feel old when I get a cut that draws blood and it takes fucking months to heal and when it does it leaves an ugly scar.

[run-clever-boy]

Hey! Could I request some Twelve smut? Maybe when he was blind/relying on touch a lot? Thanks in advance love you bye!

I have been wanting to write something like this for SOOOO long!! Thank you sm!!!! I’m so sorry that this took me forever to write, hope you are satisfied!!

also on AO3

Inch by Inch - 12th Doctor x Reader

Blind! 12th doctor x Fem!Companion!Reader

Words: 3,247

Summary: The doctor is having a tough time dealing with the complications of being blind. A companion of his and a very understanding reader is willing to help him navigate, but will he let her?

Warnings: Smut!! Minors DNI!!!, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Unprotected sex (0/10 do not recommend), Nipple play, dirty talk if you squint

You walked out of your room on the TARDIS as you heard some clambering downstairs. You assumed the doctor got into something he shouldn’t have and wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“Doctor! Wait a minute stay where you are! I’m coming!” You yell down stairs as you come running down.

You abandon trying to put on your t-shirt, considering he can’t see you anyway. You start picking up the pace in your bra and sleep shorts. You tried not to think about the fact that you would be so exposed in front of the man you’ve admired (More romantically than you care to admit) for years. It was the middle of the night after all, but you knew the doctor never slept.

You run into the console room to see the doctor surrounded by bits and pieces of some alien technology you didn’t recognize. What was most important was that he was lying on the ground, and you needed to help him.

You rush over and grab him by the arm to pull him up and onto one of the chairs surrounding the console. “Doctor? Doctor are you alright??” You say worriedly, checking over his figure to make sure he isn’t injured. “What were you doing up?”

“I’m fine, Y/n, I promise” He says, stopping your frantic hands with his own, smoothing over your skin with his own. “Even with the glasses, the depth perception just isn’t on point” He says, his hand moving further up your arm.

“I am getting a med kit, there is no way you haven’t hurt yourself by now” You say, trying to get him steady. Once he looks steady you quickly turn on your heels and hear an exasperated sigh behind you as you leave to get the kit.

You return just as quickly as you left, walking quickly to ensure he doesn’t do anything stupid. You see him exactly where you left him. You can see him lean back against the console, clearly exhausted.

“You there y/n?” He questions

“Any time you need me, I will be” you quip back. You take out the neosporin and bandaids you loaded up a med kit with and help him fix up the scrapes on his hands. He scratched those up most often when he would try to catch himself as he ran into items around the TARDIS, despite the amount of clutter you cleaned up for him.

You help him up onto a chair that sat near the console, grabbing onto his arm firmly for support. He settles in the chair and takes his glasses off, running his hands over his eyes. You can see just how exhausted he is. You know that time lords don’t need hardly any sleep, but you assume the blindness has been taking its toll on him.

“Are you alright now doctor?” You ask timidly.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to fuss over me. In fact, I truly hate it when people fuss over me. You worry too much-”

“I worry with reason, doctor.” You interrupt.

He stops for a second, and exhales. “But you shouldn’t have to” he says quietly. His voice is shaky and there was a different inflection behind that than you expected. He can’t look you in the eye, but you know it’s not just his sight that’s bothering him.

“Doctor, what’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about me, Y/n. I’m supposed to take care of you, that’s how this works” He replies somberly. He can’t look you in the eye but he somehow finds you hand and holds it in both of his own.

“Doctor you do so much, I can take care of you too”

He brings your hand up to his lips gently. He stands up and brings you up to stand with him. He runs his hand along the seat to find his glasses and puts them back on, hitting a button on the side that presumably helps him navigate.

“I appreciate your help more than you know, Y/n. I have been a burden and I know that, please don't protest that. It's not easy having to take care of a stubborn blind man."

You chuckle a little. There was no doubt that he was stubborn. Even more so now that he was blind.

"Follow me" He says, squeezing your hand and turning to go down the stairs and into the halls of the TARDIS.

"I feel like that should be the other way around, Stevie Wonder"

"Shut up"

You can hear his smile in his voice as he says it. He very carefully weaves in and out of the halls of the TARDIS.

"Where are we going?"

"Surprise" His Scottish accent putting emphasis on the word.

"Well aren't we 'doctor mysterio' today” You quip back quietly. He turns his head and gives you the ‘shut up’ look. (Well almost, the angle was a bit off but you can’t blame him)

He arrives at a dark blue door, with some gold circular Galifreyan details. You recognize the language after spending so many years traveling with the doctor. You’ve seen him write in it once or twice, and you always found it mesmerizing. He’s tracing the pattern on the door with his free hand and you can’t help but stare. He turns the door knob and opens the room then walks in with you still in tow. You are just now able to see the room and look around properly. It’s a bedroom with a large bed in the middle which looks like it hasn’t been touched. It’s perfectly made with TARDIS blue sheets. You turn to see bookshelves filled to the brim with books, records, CDs, and pictures lining every wall. More Gallifreyan detailing is on the ceiling and sparkles like stars in the night. The room takes your breath away. Then everything click in your brain as you turn to face the doctor.

“Is this… your room, doctor?” You ask tentatively.

“It is” He replies. “It’s hardly ever used, other than storage lately. Considering the whole ‘Time lords don’t sleep’ ordeal” He smiles.

“It’s amazing” You say in awe.

“I thought you might like it”

He unclasped his hand from yours and ran it up your arm. You couldn’t help but shudder at the action, but your attempt to hide the shaky breath you let out was futile. He ran his hand down your side in an attempt to be able to guide you around by having his hand on your lower back only to discover that your side was exposed. You chose this particular moment to curse yourself for not putting on your t-shirt before running down stairs.

His movements froze when he felt your skin beneath his fingertips. You can feel you cheeks heat up and it quickly spreads throughout your body as your embarrassment floods through you.

“I- s-sorry” you mutter quietly, looking at the floor and shifting uncomfortably. You are all of a sudden way too aware that his hand still hasn’t left your side.

“What for?” He says quietly.

“Not wearing more, I guess” You stutter through and start nervously laughing.

There is a silence between you for a minute when he suddenly moves his hand against you waist. He finds a good grip against your side and gently pulls you in front of him so he’s facing you.

“That’s no reason to be sorry, Y/n” He says quietly, his face close to yours. “The only regret I have is not being able to see you right now”

You freeze in shock for a few moments. You feel your breath caught in your throat. All you can focus on is how the doctor’s hand is trailing up your side and across your chest. His hand finally stops when it finds the side of your face and his thumb glides over your bottom lip. You stay there frozen, finally letting out the breath you were holding. He could hear the shaky-ness in your voice and smiled at you. He was nervous too, you could tell (As much as he tried to hide it)

Just then you felt him tug you closer and you feel his lips touch yours. You could feel the hesitation in his movements so you pressed back against him. You could feel him instantly relax and get more bold with you. You move your hands up the smooth fabric of his suit jacket and wrap your arms around his neck. The one hand on your waist pulled you to him and you could feel the fabric he was wearing against your skin. You gasp and part your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He felt like he was every where, just overloading your senses. You ran your hands through his hair, needing him closer. You two move backward until your back hits the bookshelves behind you. You wince slightly at the contact not expecting it. He breaks the kiss for a moment, taking a second to breath.

“Are you alright?” He asks, evidently out of breath.

“Yes, god yes” You say, equally out of breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this” it comes out as more of a confession than you meant it to be.

“I wish I could see your face, see your reactions to my touch” He says, bending down so the sound of his voice is in your ear. “But feeling you is incredibly worth it”

He kisses behind your ear and down your neck. He stops at your pulse points and sucks a hickey onto your neck and you use all of your self control to not let out the moans threatening to break free. Whimpers keep escaping as his lips work your neck and his hands are tracing your figure and exploring every inch of your body. Savoring every touch. He is running his hands and lips all over you as if to create a mental map of your body and memorize how you react. Certain touches leave you breathless, arching your back, goosebumps along your skin, and heartbeat skyrocketing.

“So responsive, love” He groans into your skin, hiding his cocky smirk behind explorative kisses.

He pulls you closer in an attempt to move to a different location, not that you minded. He guides you in the general direction of his bed, but stumbles as you both hit the edge of it. He uses the opportunity to wrap his broad hands around your waist, stroking your sides up and down from your ribs to your hips. He kisses you feverishly while he clumsily gets himself onto the bed and on top of you as you guide him. You run your hands up the fabric of his suit and gently guide the jacket off of his shoulders. He takes the hint and slips his arm out of it, tossing it carelessly to the side of the room, having no clue where it landed. You reach to unbutton his waistcoat and shirt while he pulls you closer to him by your hips. He helps you with the many buttons on his clothes in between his explorations of your body. You get everything off of his body and run your hands over the pale skin there. You can feel the roughness of him underneath your fingertips as you trace his body. He runs his hands wherever he can reach on you. From your neck, down your body, worshiping your hips and waist, and further down the run his hands over your legs. All he could want right now is to take all the time in the world to commit your every curve to memory.

His hands come underneath you and fumble around, searching for and then unclasping your bra and throwing it to the side. His lips leave yours for a moment and you almost whine at the absence.

“Show me where you want me”

His Scottish brogue is even deeper than normal. His breath is uneven and his attraction is evident within it. You know what he means now, he wants you to guide him.

You tangle your hands in his silver hair and gently pull his lips to your pulse point. He attacks the spot, licking and sucking hard. He moves just under your jaw and hits the amazing spot on your neck and a moan comes flying out of your mouth before you can stop it. He smirks into your skin as you mutter incoherent apologies. Ignoring your words, he puts more work into that spot, nibbling at the sensitive skin there which has you biting your lip in a failed attempt at concealing your whines. Your hips grind on nothing, begging for some sort of attention and the doctor presses his knee between your thighs to give you just that.

He glides his hands over your shorts and slips a finger into your waistband and slides the smooth material down your legs. You skillfully undo his trousers and he kicks them off.

You run your hands down his soft stomach and go to reach under the waistband of his boxers when his hand comes down and catches yours.

“You’ve done enough taking care of me as of late. Let me take care of you”

With that he resumes his kisses to your skin but then ventures them down your body. He roughly kisses the sensitive spots on your collar bone and then kisses the valley between your breasts. He searches for and then palms your tit, then kisses around until he finds you nipple on your other, taking it into his mouth. He licks over the hard bud lightly then puts a sudden but not unwelcome amount of pressure on it with his teeth. His other hand uses his fingers to roll your nipple between his fingers and pinches it allowing the very little pain to morph into complete pleasure. He switches his hand and mouth to give attention to both and you can barely think. Your breaths have run completely ragged and you can’t even bother to try and die down your moans. The whines escaping your lips go straight to the doctor’s cock and you can only imagine how hard he is for you. The inability to see you is only heightening every other sense he has and you are overwhelming them all.

He lowers his attention to your stomach, his hands running down the grope at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. He can hear you, touch you, hell even smell you. All he wants to do now is taste you.

He runs his fingers over the cotton fabric of your underwear and you raise your hips involuntarily to meet his touch. He chuckles lightly at your enthusiasm and you curse him for his cockiness in your mind. He decides he’s wasted enough time so he slides your panties off and runs a finger through your folds. He groans when he feels just how wet he made you. He can’t wait any longer.

All of a sudden you can feel him everywhere. Licking stripes up and down all over you. Sucking your clit in his mouth. Sliding fingers around your entrance. It’s incredible and so much to take in at once. He has you bucking your hips into his hands and whining for him. He slides 1 finger into you. It’s just enough for you to squeeze onto. He continues his ministrations while curling that one finger to reach a spot inside of you that you had never felt before. Your eyes rolled back into you head and your back arched. You were so breathless even your moans had turned almost silent. He pressed his weight into your hips to stop their frantic movement as he added another finger which prodded at the most intimate areas he could possibly find. You didn’t even have time to think about the embarrassment that came with coming so quickly as you let out a desperate moan and your vision went blank. All you could feel was the white-hot sensation of the pleasure flooding through your every nerve. You could hear the praise and groans coming from the man you so desperately loved distantly as your consciousness came back to you. You didn’t realize that you were gripping his silver curls tightly as you came on his fingers. What you did see when you look down, however, was the Doctor licking his fingers clean with one hand and stroking his impossibly hard erection with the other.

This time you pulled him up and kissed his lips, desperate to taste yourself on him. He kissed you sloppily, his tongue sliding over yours and you biting his lip as he pulled back. You slid your hand into his boxers and grabbed his erection, pumping him slowly. His head fell onto your shoulder as he muttered a Gallifreyan curse.

“Fuck, Y/n. If you do that any more I won’t get through the night.”

You slid his shorts off his body and then wrapped your legs around his hips. You hooked your ankles into his back and pulled him closer. He hit your sopping wet entrance and a small whine escaped his lips. You reached between your bodies and lined him up with your entrance and pushed your hips forward.

“Take me like it’s the last time you’ll ever get the chance”

That was all he needed to kiss you fiercely on the lips and push into you, inch by agonizing inch. He bottomed out and waited for you to adjust to him. He felt like heaven, stretching you out just enough to where is felt like you were filled to the brim. You moaned at the thought and he took that as affirmation to start his thrusts. He hit the perfect spots in you and stroked every inch of you perfectly. It wasn’t long before the both of you were on the edge of complete bliss. His hips snapped with the fervor of a man much younger than him and his touch set a blaze on your skin. You had never felt someone pour so much into being intimate and it ignited a fire deep within you. He reached down and (with no vision might I add) expertly massaged your clit until you were writhing and screaming his name. The feel of you clenching around him had him gasping and stuttering out his orgasm quickly after yours, riding out your high to prolong this incredible moment. His hands still ran up and down wherever they could reach, but this time he hardly needed any guidance what-so-ever.

“If that’s what you can do without your vision, god knows what you could with” You joke, the words coming out breathlessly.

He pulls himself out of you and lays down at your side. “I don’t think I’ll need it”

“Why not?” You question curiously.

“Because…” He pauses to turn towards you and run his fingers down your torso. “As much as I would love seeing you under me, I can already tell that I’ve committed your every move, noise, reaction, and curve of your body to memory.” Sliding toward your ear as he says it. “I know you said to do this like it was the last chance I’ll get, but you greatly overestimate my self control if you think I can resist this for long”

You smile and lay your head down on his chest which is still heaving.

You couldn’t wait for him to explore your body once again, inch by inch.

[bilightningwhumper]

Whumperless whump inspired by what happened with me today: nosebleeds.

Maybe Whumpee doesn't get them often. Or they do (as I do these days). Either way, they're supposed to stay calm, wait it out. But anxiety hits their system anyway. And there's only so much a caretaker can do, if there is one. It's basically just a waiting game.

Too long lasting and that means a trip to the hospital to get the veins/wound cauterized. (Not happened to me, but did happen to my dad, so I'm forever worried about it.)

For real, though, advice on nosebleeds and how to deal with them:

DON'T tilt your head back, it's a bad idea. Blood will go down your throat instead and it will poison you. Lean forward with your head tilted down, but at an angle that doesn't mean it'll still go down your throat. That's really mostly the goal: don't swallow your own blood, it bad.

DON'T stuff things in your nose to take care of it. Like, you can-ish, but don't pack it. Basically enough so you're not dripping everywhere, just not so much you rip out the clot that builds to heal the skin under it. Break the clot, nosebleed starts over.

DON'T use Vaseline (or similar) to moisturize your nose afterwards to increase prevention, use Neosporin (or similar) instead. This came from a doctor my sister was lucky enough to have. Basically, because Neosporin is a first aid antibiotic ointment, it both heals and helps prevent infection. He'd found (as a doctor and from personal experience with chronic nosebleeds himself) that Vaseline would cause more infections and issues than it would actually help.

And lastly, IF A NOSEBLEED CONTINUES FOR LONGER THAN 10-15 MINUTES AT THE SAME INTENSITY, YOU SHOULD PROBABLY GO TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM. Not even joking here, you *can* bleed out from a nosebleed. Which is the knowledge that always pumps up my anxiety.

My personal way to deal with it in the moment is to either bend over my bathroom sink and just let it run its course (while pinching the bridge of my nose to stem the flow), checking with a tissue every now and then as it slows. Or just soft plug my nose with tissues method if I'm not home, like when I was at work today. I was told by one doctor a while back to just plug my nostrils and let it clot that way. The problem is, I bleed way too much for that. Like, way too much. I basically always hit that 10-minute mark, and it stops by a hair for emergency worries. It's kind of funny sometimes when someone gets so concerned about me, and at this point, I'm just so casual about how much blood is pouring out of my nose at a rapid rate. But anyway, I tried it once, and both still swallowed some blood because it built up so much, and when I released my nose, it was not pretty.

So there's my adhd meds wore off for the night and I really need to get to bed rant, lol. If anyone has anything else to add, feel free. Preferably stuff that would help, not harm, as I was given a lot of bad advice when I was a kid by well-meaning adults when my parents weren't available (like the tilting the head back thing, my parents know better but I had a school staff member who didn't and had me doing that; not great). There's stuff I know I forgot to add that would help but I'm very, very tired.

[dreamingticklee]

a sweet caring moment that is gonna replay in my mind forever is last summer when on vacay with a group of friends when we got to the lake and were walking on the beach to find a spot when i hit the top of my foot on a shard of wood in the sand and it left some scrapes and a splinter. my friend bent down to inspect it and he gently took out the splinter and put a bandaid on it for me. later when we got back to where we were staying and got to our room, he asked to look at it again and how it was feeling and he sweetly cleaned it and rubbed some neosporin on it for me before replacing with a new bandaid and i just 🥺🥺 like maybe it's just a simple thing but as someone who lives alone and is always having to take care of myself, it just felt extra sweet to be tended to in that way

(and as life would have it, he and i are now dating and both kinky and i get to be tickled by him 🥰)

[factorydefaultlu]

Don't Wanna Hurt No More Chapter 2: My Baby Don't Cry

1.2k words

Summary: Dean patches Sam up and struggles with his inner turmoil.

TW: wincest, child abuse mention, blood, wounds, blood consumption

Chapter 1

Also on my AO3

By the time Sam was out of tears, the sun had already peaked above the treeline. It took nothing but a gentle tug for Dean to lift Sam into his arms. 

Sammy buried his face into his big brother's neck and wrapped his arms and legs around him like a small child. He sniffled and clenched his jaw. Sam hated how small and fragile he felt, he's been especially avoidant of looking weak around Dean; budding puberty will do that to a boy. 

If he could, Dean would let Sam crawl into his skin and live there. To keep him safe. To keep him forever. He'd let Sam do a lot of things now that he thinks about it. 

Dean carried Sam to the bathroom and set him on the counter. His fingers gently rubbed over the welts already forming from the belt lashes. He suppressed the growing anger in his stomach, it wouldn't do any good now. 

The tap squeaked as Dean turned it on, letting the cold water run before digging in the drawer for a washcloth and the first aid kit. Sammy stared down at his big brother, a feeling of resentment slowly coiling in him. 

He understood why Dean didn't step in. Why he never does. It's getting worse though, John is leaving more than just bruises on Sam, blood is being drawn every other beating. How long before John hurts him so bad that Dean won't be able to patch him up with a gas station med kit? 

Dean doesn't want to think about that. It made him want to peel his skin off. 

A small whimper left Sam's lips as Dean helped him pull his shirt off. His fingers hooked below the hem and his knuckles dragged along Sam's ribs. Goosebumps rippled over the younger boy's skin. Dean has patched him up dozens of times before, he's no stranger to Sam's skin; He's no stranger to touching Sam. Yet right now, both of them feel a sort of static between them. 

It's new. They both swallow the feeling. 

Long, red welts covered Sam's back and shoulders. A few had busted open and bled, rivulets smeared down to his ribs from where his shirt had rubbed them. Sammy was already in the early stages of puberty, he still had that layer of baby fat over his torso but Dean is sure that by the end of this year's summer Sam will be more akin to a newborn fawn. All limbs and awkward movements. 

Sam flinched when Dean pressed a cool, wet cloth to his burning skin. He grit his teeth and tried to power through the pain, just as he'd seen Dean do. 

There was once a time when it was Dean in Sam's position, and little Sammy would watch as he patched himself up. He remembers the first time Dean had to stitch his own wound. John had thrown a bottle at the wall, and when he pushed Dean to the ground it sliced into his arm. 

There was so much blood and John refused to fix it himself. Sam sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching Dean use a sewing needle and fishing line to close the gash. It was messy and not at all how a stitch should be done; like how their family was. 

Dean still has the scar. 

The rough threads of the cloth dragged on his skin and the way Sam tensed up as he gripped the edge of the sink didn't escape Dean. It made his mouth dry with the sense that this isn't how a 12 year old should live. Hell, it's not how anyone should live. 

“S’ not too bad.” Dean mumbled as he rubbed the last of the neosporin onto Sammy's back. 

A deep sigh rattled Sam's lungs. A sigh that no child should ever have to know the weight of. “You always say that.” 

“I know… but it could be. I mean he could be selling us to perverts.” Dean offered his signature smirk, an attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Don't give him ideas.” Sam scoffed, but there was a hint of a smile. 

The smile was gone as fast as it had come and Sam hopped off the counter then grabbed his shirt off the floor. “I'm gonna lay down.”

“Want me to lay with you?” Dean reached out gently, holding Sam's arms just below the bandaged wounds. 

They usually laid together after an especially bad argument, sometimes holding each other, most times just facing each other. Dean would take advantage of the situation and commit every detail of Sam's sleeping face to memory. 

Sammy's eyes filled with an emotion that Dean couldn't figure out. He'd never seen that look on his brother's face, and it worried him. All too soon however, Sam was pulling away and brushing past him. 

“No, s'okay. I'm not a kid anymore.” If there was a hint of what his eyes conveyed in his voice, Dean didn't catch it. 

Sam was right, though. He wasn't a little kid anymore, he was turning 13 in a week. This reminder made Dean want to hold Sam and never let go. He didn't want his baby brother to grow up, he wanted him to be his forever. 

He'd often roll a ridiculous thought around in his head: Find a potion to mix into Sammy's lotion so he'll stay my baby forever. 

Dean would never do that, at least that's what he tells himself. Besides, he's sure a spell like that doesn't exist without horrific consequences. Plus, what's Sammy going to do when Dean gets old and dies? He needs his big brother to take care of him. 

The tap squeaked again as Dean twisted the rusting handle. He tried to distract himself with putting the first aid kit back together and cleaning up the bathroom; Something he'd never normally bother with, but he doesn't want to see the empty spot in the bed next to Sam. 

Dean squeezed the water from the bloody washcloth and watched the murky water swirl down the drain. He stared at the stained rag, like it'd give him an answer or some kind of comfort. 

Before he even registered what he was doing, Dean was lifting the cloth to his mouth and licking at the bloodstain. The faint flavor of copper, rubbing alcohol and leftover laundry detergent permeated his taste buds. Somehow, under it all, he could taste something that was distinctly ‘Sam’ 

He could just be imagining things. It could be a placebo effect, spurred on by his love and longing for his baby brother. It could also just be that he knows Sam so well he could identify him by taste. 

Dean pulled the rag from his mouth after sucking it dry. A wave of shame rolled over his body like ice water. 

‘Who the fuck does this?’ he berated himself in his head. ‘You're acting like a fucking serial killer. Pack it up Dahmer.’

The rag was quickly discarded into the pile of towels on the floor, and Dean tried to shake his strange feeling along with it. Dean had always felt protective over Sam. It was his job, the one thing their dad always hammered into his head. 

‘Take care of Sammy.’ Dean could hear John's voice in his head like a mantra. He thought it was ridiculous that their dad insisted Dean protect Sam from everything but him. 

‘Don't let monsters beat him up because I want to do that.’ Dean mocked his father. 

There was a time when John wouldn't lay so much as a harsh word on Sam, but that was before Sammy learned to talk and formed a personality of his own. Dean used to get the brunt of the abuse, anything and everything was blamed on him. 

He wished to God that it could go back to that. 

[yanderu-deredere]

yeong-bae, isamu, mel and any other yanderes you wanna add: how they'd react to fucking you so hard that you can't walk straight the next morning?

a/n: LMAO love this collection of men with big dicks. added casimir becos he is also part of the big dick club! neway, hope you enjoy these lil headcanons!

warning: gender neutral reader, implied sex the night before, implied biting and marking kink

yeong-bae kigal ★ profile

king of aftercare? maybe a little...

he's never really had any experience with taking care of anyone after a rough night but he literally tries his hardest to learn. definitely has a lot of stuff in his search history LOL

gets especially bashful if you're really fucked up the morning after and is really apologetic. he didn't mean to hurt you so much! you have to believe him!

also one of the ones that don't let you do anything the morning after. brings you breakfast, brings you your laptop, calls you in sick for work, etc. you are staying in bed and recovering

also, no sex! he can't fuck you up when you're still recovering!

overall very sweet in an inexperienced type of way

isamu lowell ★ profile

has a bit of experience in aftercare but he's the one receiving it LOL so it's kind of different

when werewolves get down, they get down so he's always being taken care of by mel and he's watched mel take care of leonard too

they'll have like neosporin or something in the house and isamu will take his time soothing all your scratches and bites and bruises

he won't let you go anywhere either LOL you're recovering

is also very bashful but like also secretly very proud of himself. like he rocked your world and it makes him feel a little skilled? something like that

makes you breakfast in bed too (nothing extravagant)

he's also a bit more lenient than yeong-bae. if you want to walk around, he won't stop you. he just won't let you do anything taxing

mel lowell ★ profile

now this is the aftercare king

he's had years of practice when it came to leonard and isamu. the both of them always come out of a good session really beat up and so mel is always there to clean them up afterwards

will skillfully take care of any bruises, bitemarks and scratches. has a heating pad if your back or your pussy hurts, knows a few tricks to get any sore limbs back to normal, etc

definitely makes you breakfast but does not eat where he sleeps so he carries you to the kitchen

literally carries you everywhere

not at all embarrassed LOL literally kind of brags and jokes about it even becos he's pretty proud of himself. actually, he's almost a little too cocky about it?

casimir fiala ★ profile

casimir is also very skilled in aftercare becos him and emm can be a bit much when they fuck

he also has a medical degree LOL so he knows exactly how to first aid kit his way into getting you all better

unlike mel tho, he might slack off a little to get his marks all over your body to stay a bit longer (or forever if they could possibly scar)

also makes you breakfast and is the breakfast making king LMAO like he doesn't beat mel at aftercare but he beats him at breakfast

and he has one of those little wooden stand things so you can have comfy breakfast in bed loool

also, he's really good at massages so like 100% ask him for a massage and all of those body aches will definitely go away

[chxrrysangel]

Living to Regret

My work is not to be reproduced, translated, or plagiarized in any shape or format. All words are my own.

Summary | A drunken night leads to some rather unexpected developments. The morning after couldn’t have been possibly been worse, right?

Warnings | Angst, mention of blood/injury, reader is a klutz, a non-graphic one-off suicide joke, miscommunication, kissing

Words | girl idk, this isn’t proofread

Part of Pushing Boundaries

Your normal level of clumsiness increased tenfold when intoxicated. The stairs up to your apartment felt like an endless mountain, making you consider sleeping on them to avoid the climb. Your landlord wouldn’t appreciate that in the slightest though. So, slowly but surely you made it to your front door, fumbling with your keys until the lock finally clicked. Shoes ended up somewhere near the doorway, jacket somewhere on the couch (at least you hope it was the couch), and jewelry fell somewhere on the kitchen counter as you practically crawled to your bedroom door. You were being pretty stealthy, that is until you knocked over a mug and accidentally stepped on the glass before you had even a chance to clean up the shattered pieces.

“Fuck me!”, you whisper-yelled into the darkness. Just what I fucking needed. Before you knew it the hallway light had flickered on, which is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

“Peach? Is that you?” Bucky’s silhouette was illuminated by the overhead light, giving him an almost angelic appearance. But in the current moment, you could only cringe at yourself for waking him.

“Hey…Buck. How’s it going?” You tried to be nonchalant, trying not to wince at the ceramic shards stuck in the bottom of your foot. If this conversation moves quickly enough, you can shed the fat tears threatening to spill in the privacy of your own room.

“Well, I was having a wonderful dream before my drunk roommate stumbled through the door like a blind man in an obstacle course.” He was grinning but you felt terrible.

“Welp, nothing’s going on here so you can just go back to bed. You took a step towards him, immediately doubling over in pain and regretting everything. Bucky rushed to your aid, concern etched all over his face. His eyes darted to the mess you tried to hide, putting the pieces together.

“You stepped on the glass?,” he questioned with a hint of anger, disappointment, and disbelief in his voice.

“Hey, don’t say it like that! It’s not like I meant to walk over the broken glass shards.” A much more awake Bucky quickly wrapped you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style into your shared bathroom.

He set you on the counter and left, searching for the first aid kit. Eventually, the sleep deprived man returned with a small plastic box and two glasses of water. One glass was set down on the back of the toilet seat, the other pushed into your hand.

“Drink.” No arguing needed, you downed the liquid like a 7th grader after gym class.

Bucky painstakingly pulled each small shard out of your foot with a pair of tweezers, setting each piece into the glass of water beside him. It took forever, but he didn’t mind. You passed the time by talking about your night out, sharing wild stories about the stupid things you’d live to regret in the morning (if you even remembered them, that is). He hung onto every word, reminding himself to tell you everything over breakfast in a few hours. After some neosporin and gauze, Bucky finally let you get off the counter.

“You’re all set.”

“Thanks Buck, you’re a lifesaver.”

Without really thinking, you wrapped your arms around the tall man and pulled him in for a kiss. He hadn’t a moment to even think about what was happening, and yet found deepening the kiss. His body responded immediately, melting into yours until there was no space between the two of you. But it was over as quickly as it began, a string of spit splitting between your lips as you separated.

“Goodnight.” Bucky watched your figure slip into the dim light of the hallway, disappearing behind your bedroom door. He stood there for an embarrassingly long amount of time, blushing and trying to comprehend what just occurred.

~~~

The morning light shined through your bedroom window, overwhelming your senses as the splitting headache began to make itself known. Your eyes wandered over to your bedside table, finding a tall glass of water and two Advil.

Bucky.

After chugging the glass in one go, you took the pills and prayed they worked faster somehow. Begrudgingly, you peeled yourself off your sheets and into the closet for clothes to wear. After finding something acceptable, you entered back into society by leaving your cave and heading towards the bathroom. To your luck, it was empty. You washed off the grimey bars from the night prior, trying to remember as much as you possibly could. You cringed at every uncovered memory, hating yourself for being so stupid.

That’s a problem for future me.

Dressed and teeth brushed, you exited the bathroom to meet one of the few men you could tolerate.

“Bucky. Hey.”

He looked like a dream this morning, which was annoyingly normal for him. Clad in sweats and muscle tee that was just a tad bit too cropped and a hair too small, he proved to be distracting to anyone with working vision.

“How’s the hangover?” He knew the answer to that question, he just liked fucking with you.

“Oh get bent Barnes.” You brushed shoulders as you passed him, heading towards the kitchen for tea.

He chuckled, entertained by your active avoidance of the question.

“I’m genuinely asking.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Sure you are. Well, I was thinking about all the things that happened last night. It’s a bit fuzzy if I’m being honest.”

He chuckled at your expense before proceeding to fill you in on what secrets you revealed while he played nurse

“I told you all of that?! I don’t even remember half of it happening.”

“How do you feel about what you do remember?” He tried not to sound too hopeful, masking his genuine curiosity at your next words.

“I’d like to jump off the Empire State, thank you. I regret everything.” Your head fell in your hands, wondering how you could be so stupid. You haven’t even looked at your phone, but you’re sure to find some horrifying photos and texts you’d like to bury with the dinosaurs.

“Everything?”

Did I stutter or something?

“Everything. I’m gonna have to ask Riri and Daisy for confirmation of all this, but I’m sure there’s gonna have to be a lot of retcon later. I did a lot of stupid things last night, more stupid than usual.”

Bucky didn’t respond to your thinking out loud, not even reassuring everything would be okay. But his posture said something he couldn’t; he was upset.

“Bucky?” No answer.

“Bucky.” Again nothing.

“James! Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

He took a moment to respond, mulling over his rampant thoughts and trying not to bark at you.

“No, no you didn’t. Everything’s fine. In fact, what you said couldn’t have been more perfect.”

Everything clearly wasn’t fine, but his mind was halfway down the street before you could even begin to think of a response, his body trying to catch up. You watched in silent confusion as he grabbed a sweatshirt and his keys, slamming the door behind him without a single look in your direction.

“What the actual fuck just happened?”

[southrnweed]

What's in Thistle's Truck ??

GLOVE COMPARTMENT;

Car registration papers, seatbelt cutter/window breaker tool, loads of those brown fast food napkins, roll of duct tape, mini flashlight.

CENTER CONSOLE;

Box of band-aid strips, yellow tinted aviator sunglasses, extra pair of black sunglasses he forgot he had in there, probably like 4 Chapstick tubes, a singular blue pen, his dad's wedding band and cross necklace, mostly empty hand sanitizer bottle, multi-tool, extra pocket knife, loose tube of Neosporin, at least two cool rocks.

Thistle TRIES to keep his truck clean-—or at least in a state of organized chaos. His glove compartment is typically in order. It's his center console container that's packed to the brim with shit and is where he'll end up putting miscellaneous stuff in because it's a 'safe place' (he will forget he put something in there in the first place). Or it's the 'I'll throw this here for now and put it where it belongs later' spot. He will do storage clean outs every so often when he remembers.

The biggest lore important items here are his father's plain tungsten wedding band and cross necklace. Thistle has a complicated relationship still with his late father and this is evident in the way he holds onto these items but keeps them tucked away as if he's still not sure about his feelings towards them. That and he doesn't wear any jewelry he isn't OK with losing. Thistle is typically good but all it takes is setting something down in a spot that isn't his 'usual' spot and it could be lost forever. So he keeps the two items in his center console because he knows they aren't going anywhere in there.

The backseat are usually where he and Breck keep all their equipment or snacks or clothes, etc. It's typically in a state of organized chaos. Truck bed is mostly empty unless it's got equipment that won't fit in the actual truck there.

[outer-edges]

i have a small offering for fans of the spiderman!ellie au. here is 1.6k words of completely unedited fic wherein which joel finally discovers ellie's secret identity.

feat. contrived grocery store displays and an overzealous employee and kiddo rep and really beating the dead 'joel is reluctant to care about ellie' horse in the beginning there.

(fic under the cut. if i ever get around to reading thru + editing this it'll go up on ao3. until then, it will live here)

Joel thought he was done buying snacks he’d never eat just because he had a kid to feed. He thought he was done with the pudding cups and the gushers and the uncrustables. 

He looks down at his cart and sighs. It’s stuffed full of all the snacks Spiderwoman wants, alongside multiple tubes of arnica, bandages, frozen peas, neosporin, and everything else he needs to keep the first aid kit stocked. 

Apparently, it’s never over. 

This is something he’s come to accept about his life. He cares about Spiderwoman. Too much for a kid who’s not his, especially considering he’s never even seen her face. But after two months of this shit, he’s accepted it. He knows he probably doesn’t mean nearly as much to her as she means to him—he’s got to assume she’s got other people in her life, a kid with that much love and warmth to her, it would kill him to think she didn’t—but he’s accepted that too. 

It’s okay that he’s now being forced to check out the old fashioned way—cart too full for the express checkout he typically utilizes—but the woman in front of him had to buy up half the store, it seems. It feels like he’s been in this line forever. That’s okay too. 

“Oh, come on, I didn’t break shit!” a girl argues, and his gaze is drawn to the front of the store.

There’s a haughty looking asshole kid there—probably no older than fourteen or fifteen—and she looks downright intimidating despite her small stature. There’s a bit of a feral edge to her as she argues with the store employee who’s probably a good foot taller than she is. It could just be his imagination, but there’s something familiar about the girl. 

“I saw you, kid,” the employee argues back. “You took down the whole display! Store policy is clear: you break it, you buy it!” 

“It’s not my fault your stupid employees don’t know how to stack things,” she fires back. Then, she holds up her plastic bag with a receipt in hand. “This is what I wanted. This is what I paid for. Alright, dude, so just let me go.” 

And then it clicks. For some reason, hearing the girl say ‘dude’ with such an empathetic tone made it click. This ain’t just any asshole kid. It's his asshole kid. 

Joel quickly gets out of line and butts in on the conversation. “Excuse me, sir. I couldn’t help but overhear—“

The kid—Spiderwoman, Jesus fucking Christ, she’s even younger than he thought she was—looks up at him. Her deep brown eyes are blown wide with surprise and confusion. She tries to smother it quickly, but her face is so goddamn expressive.

“What seems to be the problem here?” Joel finishes, playing a bit dumb as he looks between Spiderwoman and the store clerk. 

“It’s okay, sir, this is not your problem,” the employee puts on his best customer service voice and tries to wave Joel away. 

“I reckon it might be,” he says. “I know the kid. She’s—uh—she’s my intern. Ain’t that right?” 

Spiderwoman blinks up at him for a moment before vigorously nodding. “Yep, that’s right. He’s a very important contractor. And I’m his intern. His unpaid intern.” 

“Right,” Joel nods, hoping he doesn’t make too much of a face at her comment. “So, I ask again, what seems to be the problem?” 

The employee looks between him and Spiderwoman, clearly not really convinced of their relationship, but he clearly doesn’t care. He’s also just some kid, probably no older than twenty five, and Joel reckons this whole thing is just some corporate policy he’s gotta enforce. 

After a beat, the employee just sighs and shakes his head a bit. “Your intern ruined an entire batch of fresh baked donuts.” 

Joel snorts and rolls his eyes a bit, though he tone comes across more affectionately empathetic than he intends. “Of course she did. What did you do this time, kiddo?” 

The nickname slips past his lips on accident. Words he hasn’t uttered in two decades. Certainly words he’s never used for Spiderwoman before. But in his care to not use any of the spider based nicknames for her, the pet name slipped through. 

Spiderwoman clearly notices, eyebrows quirking up just a fraction. Still, she takes it in stride. “They put the blueberry donuts on the bottom, so I went to go grab them, and my—uh—the boxes stuck together, and you know how that goes. Just….vwoop. They all tumbled like Jenga.” 

Ah. Joel nods in understanding. He’s seen her accidentally stick to enough things to know what really happened. Can’t really explain that one to a store clerk. 

“That Jenga tower was the fresh baked batch that just came out of the oven this morning,” the employee says. 

“Alright, look,” Joel starts, “How much did that display cost?” 

“One twenty.”

Joel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Goddamn, one twenty? For donuts?”

“It was over a dozen boxes your intern destroyed.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. She’s goddamn lucky he just landed a big contract with a builder out in the suburbs. Forking over one hundred twenty dollars for some fucking donuts. That’s on top of the added groceries and other assorted goods he’s been buying for her.

“Just add it to my bill,” Joel sighs. “And let her take whatever donuts you can salvage. Alright?”

Spiderwoman’s eyes go wide. “Okay, Joel, seriously. You don’t have to do that—” “You ain’t got the money, and clearly someone’s gotta pay the man,” he shoots back. 

That’s not what he wants to say. What he wants to say is of course I’m gonna help you outta this bind, kiddo. What the fuck else am I here for? 

But that might be a little too real for the both of them. They’ve been dancing around this odd little friendship they’ve struck up, smuggling anything resembling feelings behind innocuous little phrases and actions. 

She seems to get what he means regardless, and she just nods. “Okay.” 

——

After Joel works out the details with the store clerk, Spiderwoman wordlessly waits by his side as he buys his groceries—and hers too—with a donut box in her arms. They were able to save just under a dozen donuts from the ruined display. They were the ones that spilled all over the table and not the floor. It’s probably ain’t completely sanitary to eat them, but Joel isn’t going to pay over a hundred bucks for donuts and not see a single one of them. 

He’s surprised Spiderwoman waits around for him, if he’s being honest. It’s not that he expected her to ditch, necessarily, but it’s two o’clock on a Monday afternoon. She should be in school, or something. 

“So,” Spiderwoman starts once they walk out of the grocery store. 

(And, god, it’s weird to keep thinking of her as Spiderwoman when he’s looking at that cherubic little face of hers. She’s got these full cheeks and expressive eyes and inklings of acne. She looks every bit of the teenager she is.) 

Joel looks at her. “What?” 

“How’d you know it was me?” she asks. 

“Who says I know you?” he says quickly. “Am I supposed to know who you are? You some kind of celebrity’s daughter or some shit?” 

“Joel, c’mon, I’m being serious,” Spiderwoman has to jog a little bit to keep up with his brisk pace, and because she’s almost a foot shorter than him. “What tipped it off?”

He looks down at her as they pull up to his truck, and he sighs. “You wanna know what it was? It was that voice of yours. I got it in my ear all night, seven days a week. ‘Course I’m gonna recognize it”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” 

Joel nods a bit. Something akin to an awkward silence falls over them as Spiderwoman helps him load the groceries back into his truck. There really shouldn’t be any awkward silence. They have spent far too much time together, most of it in some kind of silence or another, to feel uncomfortable around each other. Shit, they spend most nights on the phone for hours at a time. 

It’s just…

They’ve never done anything like this. In the daylight. Without the mask separating them. He supposes she’s been seeing his face his whole time, but he hasn’t ever seen her. Shit, he doesn’t even know her name.

Joel watches her in the rearview mirror as she returns the cart, and she jogs back to his truck without looking both ways as she crosses the parking lot. For a second, a once dormant instinct crackles back to life, and he wants to tell her to look before just darting across the parking lot like that. Then, he remembers that psychic sense of hers, and he figures she’s probably fine. 

He still wants to tell her anyway. 

“I think it’s going to rain later,” Spiderwoman comments as she climbs back into the car. As if this is normal. 

In a way, it kind of is. 

“What is your name?” Joel asks. 

He can’t keep thinking of her as Spiderwoman. He can’t. And it’s stupid to keep acting like she isn’t already completely ingratiate into his life. This whole dancing around her identity thing was an ill conceived attempt to keep up a wall he already smashed down. 

“What happened to keeping our histories to ourselves?” 

Joel gives her a deadpan. “Kiddo, I think we’re way past that point.” 

“Oh, I know,” she nods. “I just wasn’t sure if you were ever going to admit it. My name’s Ellie.” 

“Ellie,” he repeats, mulling it over. Good name. “It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Joel.” 

“I know, man.” 

[stardewgay]

hm okay I wrote this a while ago might delete later bc I suck at writing byeeee

TW self harm & suicide mentions

***

I was just about to leave the saloon early when that new farmer girl walks in. What’s her name? Something with an R. I shake my head and finish off my last swig of beer. I pushed off the wall and headed for the door. I’m way drunker than I thought. I focused as hard as I could, staring at my shoes as I moved one foot in front of the other…then I slammed into something. No, someone.

“Shit..” I stumbled backwards, “will you fucking watch where you’re going?”

“You first, asshole” snapped the farmer. I blinked hard, looking at her this close for the first time. Messy and bright pink hair, a soft t-shirt, shorts, and a look that could kill. Her brown eyes bore into mine, face scrunched up in anger. A smattering of freckles covered her cheeks and she had dirt all over her. I just gaped.

“Ok. Good talk.” she pushed past me roughly with an eye roll. From behind me, I heard Em call out “Hey Rowan! How are ya?”.

Rowan, that was her name. I rubbed my face with one calloused hand and pushed open the door, slamming it behind me.

I didn’t make it very far before I tripped and fell. Grumbling, I sat up and examined my knees. They were both skinned. I looked up dejectedly, not having the energy to stand up. I heard the saloon door open and close. Before I knew it, Rowan was standing in front of me. She had a to-go container in one hand and a cola in the other.

“Just how drunk are you, Shane?” she spat. She knows my name? While I was too shocked to respond, she sighed and shoved her cola in her pocket haphazardly. She thrust her hand out to me. I stared for a what felt like forever. She wiggled her hand impatiently, so I finally took it. Her arm muscles rippled as she pulled me up from the ground. I winced at the pain in my knees.

“C‘mon, I’ll get you cleaned up. You have to carry my drink though.” She pressed a cold can into my hand, wrapping that arm around my waist. I leaned against her, probably too much.

“I’m sorry” I mumbled. She ignored me, just patting my back and leading me along.

Soon enough, she was leading me into a small cabin. Her cabin. If I wasn’t drunk I’d be panicking. She sat me down on her couch. She put her takeout on my lap and opened the box. It was pepper poppers, my favorite.

“Eat some. Gus gave me extra, I’ll never finish them all. Be right back.” She took off towards her bathroom. I grabbed one of the peppers and took a bite. Damn Gus is good.

Rowan reappeared with a first aid kit in her hands. She sat and patted her thighs, signaling me to prop my legs on her. My face was hot as I followed her instruction. I watched bashfully as she gently cleaned up my knees.

“You’re good at this.” I slurred, watching her work deftly. “You got some nursing under your belt or somethin’?”

“Something like that.” She sighed as she smeared neosporin on my injuries. She covered them with bandaids and looked up at me. “Better?”

I nodded. “Thank you Rowan, really. I’m sorry I’m such an —hic— asshole.” She didn’t respond. She took a pepper popper out of the box on my lap and put the whole thing in her mouth. I couldn’t help but laugh. Her cheeks her so full when she looked at me, snorting. “What?”

“You really like pepper poppers. Girl after my own heart.” I chuckled again. She rolled her eyes, chewing strenuously until she finally swallowed.

“I wanted to share them at the saloon,” she said quietly. “But then you were an asshole.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. All of a sudden I was all too aware that my legs were still in her lap and she was resting one hand on them. I quickly pulled them away and planted them on the ground.

“Why would you want that?” I responded, equally as quiet.

She fell silent for a moment, thinking. I was about to stand up and apologize and make a beeline for the door until she spoke before I had the chance.

“I thought we could be friends.”

I blinked hard. This was a prank, right? Some elaborate, fucked up prank. The only person I could consider a friend was Emily, but she was my bartender. I had to converse with her. Rowan broke the silence again.

“I think we could relate more than you think.” I snorted at this, and she shot me a deadly look.

“You? How could a beautiful, self sufficient, independent farmer relate to a sad fat alcoholic?” At this point, I knew it was a joke. God, she was making fun of me. I stood up quickly, throwing her pepper poppers all over the floor. “Fuck, shit..” I pressed my hands to my face. “I’ll go get you more. I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry.” I tried to make a dash for the door when she grabbed my wrist. Her hands were rough from work.

“Shane,” she said softly “it’s okay. Please sit.” I shook my head and tried to pull away, but she gripped me harder and yanked me back onto the couch. I felt her arms snake around me in an awkward hug. My face was burning up as she pulled away. “Why would you want to be my friend?” My voice was shaking. This was so embarrassing. “How could you relate to me? I’m a sack of shit.”

“So am I dude. I take five medications so I don’t kill myself. I’m so good at ‘nursing’ because I had to clean myself up after really bad nights. Jesus, I was discharged from the psych ward four months ago.” She swallowed hard. Tears were forming in her eyes. Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her as close as I could. She smelled like dirt, sweat, and pepper poppers. She breathed me in, burying her face into my neck. I could feel that my shirt was wet with her tears. I rubbed her back, feeling so terribly awkward but I just wanted to be here for her.

“Fuck man.” she pulled away, rubbing her eyes. “I’m so sorry. You don’t need that shit.” I took her hand gently. “It’s okay. I promise. I get it.” I tried to slur as little as possible. She nodded. Cautiously, she laid her head on my shoulder. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. It’s nice.” I smiled softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a real friend.”

“Me too. Thanks, Shane.”

“Thank you, Rowan. Thank you for wanting to be my friend.” I quickly wiped away my own tear that escaped

[veritas-dolos]

How to Cope by Leo and Mikey Ch. 1

With a gasp, Leo bolted upright and slapped a hand over his mouth, trying not to cry out. His nightmares were only getting more realistic. 

It was just that… Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was fist after robotic fist pounding into his plastron. He felt bile rising up his throat but managed to push it back down. Leo definitely wasn’t going back to sleep. 

It was two in the morning, according to his bedside clock. He guessed three hours wasn’t that bad, considering that was more than he had in the last two days. With a sigh, he laid back on his bed, pulling his covers up to his chin, and stared at the ceiling, just thinking. 

About the Krang.

Mikey, and how his arms will forever shake. 

Donnie, about how he wouldn’t take off his battle shell for anything.

Raph, how he couldn’t see out of his right eye, no matter how much he tried to hide it. 

And most of all, how much he wanted a damn snack. 

He laughed at that, at how his mind could jump from one topic to the polar opposite. Rolling his eyes and smiling to himself, he flipped the covers off him and slipped on his favorite blue sweatshirt. It definitely needed to spend some quality time with the washer and dryer, but like hell was he throwing it in now. 

Making sure his sleeves were pulled down all the way, he cautiously opened his door. It was tricky to do so, because if you pulled it open too slow, it would creak, and if you pulled it open too fast, it would creak louder. He grabbed the door handle, turned it, and swung it open. 

No noise.

He exited his room, and to his surprise, it didn’t creak when he quietly shut it and crept toward the kitchen.

Leo didn’t know what he was looking for. He didn’t want to make noise and wake up his family, who were now almost exclusively on edge thanks to the Krang attack a month ago. It was traumatizing, to say the least, to have the world almost end and it be all his fault. No matter what his brothers said, it was his fault. There was no convincing him otherwise. It was a fact. 

Leo chose a pop tart. He didn’t know why, but it spoke to him. 

He tried to quietly open the package, but that was a fruitless task, so he just ripped it open. He put them on a paper plate, deciding to eat them raw, like the animal he was. That made him chuckle. I am so funny, he thought to himself.

Tossing the foil in the garbage, he made his way back to his room. He slipped inside, with the tiniest groan of the door as he closed it. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable. Leo turned on the fairy lights Mikey had installed in his room, who said that they’d make him feel better, which they kind of did. He sat on his bed with his shell to the wall, pop tart in one hand and phone in the other. 

Midway through his second pop tart, and just after reading a Jupiter Jim fanfiction, he started to get the… urges. The ones where he desperately needed to see his blood. Leo sighed. This is getting ridiculous, he thought to himself. Well… maybe just a little. One or two. Leo laughed at that. One or two. When is it ever just one or two?

Agreeing with his inner monologue, he stood up and turned on the overhead lights to his room. He normally hated them, but when it came to self harm, the more light the better. He dug around in his top drawer and found the little package of razor blades he nabbed at some gas station, the attendant too high to notice a green, teenage turtle wearing concealing clothing buying razor blades at four in the morning. And that wasn’t even the first time he did it, that was last week. 

He grabbed the paper towel roll he stashed under his bed along with a tube of neosporin and medical tape. Leo pulled off his sweatshirt, and put the blade to his arm. 

Wait a minute. Where was his pop tart?

He pulled away and dug around his bed before finally finding it, partially crushed. Regardless, he took a bite before putting it off to the side and grabbing his razor blade again. 

Before he even pushed down, the feeling of the sharp metal on his forearm calmed him down. It wasn’t enough. 

It would never be enough. 

He dragged the blade across his skin. Red stood out against green, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He did another one, slightly farther down. Leo paused, looking at his arm. White scars laid under scabbed ones, half-healed green lines across the wasteland he dared to call his skin. He’d been at this for over two years now, and he didn’t even do it for his original purposes.

He was an addict. 

He snapped out of thought when a drop of blood slipped down onto his blanket. Shit, Leo thought, wiping the blood off. Well, that was “one or two”, are you gonna stop there? He asked himself, but he already knew the answer. 

It’s never just one or two.

And so he put the blade back to his arm, and got to work.

Ch. 2

[frogsandfries]

I'm glad to see you guys noticed my absence 😜

I nearly died, but both my bead packages were at my sister's place when we got in.

I had asked my sister if I could borrow a hard side carrier for my cat; she forgot. I kept forgetting to get one. Anyway, my girl got put in the backpack. She eventually worked her way out, and she was absolutely chill, so my sister and I agreed that she could stay out for a while.

We hit Oklahoma, and it was getting late and stormy. My sister put on the wipers and the first time, the motion for my cat's attention; cool, something for her to check out. The second time the wiper moved, my cat flew into the air.

I still feel really awful about my response, but we were in a moving van with a trailer on the back. I didn't need something worse to happen. I grabbed her scruff and, feeling blood already trickling down my arm, drew her limbs in. She had flipped out of her harness at some point; there's no way I was getting that back on without an even bigger fight than normal. I had to get her back in the bag and as soon as possible, I needed some aspirin and neosporin.

It took forever to get to a Casey's. Fun side fact for you, Casey's appears to have at least two different brandings. I'm from Wisconsin. There aren't any in at least any in New Mexico that I saw, but in like Oklahoma and Iowa, they've got the same house/barn shape sign, but just the word "Casey's" in like......a casual/decorative font. Like this:

In Wisconsin, at least, Casey's signs look like this:

Anyway, the point being, I got in the bathroom, cleaned up the fucking blood, considered buying literally eight dollar neosporin, decided on just a Casey's mt dew. Get up to the register; guy in front of me wants a shower.

Cashier: Will that be all?

Me: *exhausted nod*

Cashier: Have a good [night, trip, whatever]

Me: *looks up, confused*

Cashier: (repeats) Have a good night

Me: *exaggerated nod of understanding; takes my free soda back to the truck*

I also had another interaction of me being disoriented from my travels. When we finally, finally, finally reached Dubuque, I bought a soda and a slice of pizza, but there are three items I'm being charged for. Since when does Wisconsin have a deposit on cans?

Nope. Iowa. Iowa has a deposit.

Earlier: We're pulling into some random gas station in southern Iowa. I have no phone service because I also didn't factor that into this process and don't ask me why.

So I'm completely, absolutely disoriented. Anyway, one of the fucking tires on the fucking trailer busted. The rubber part, the hub cap, the axel. Fucked harder than.... anyway. Fucked.

It takes about twenty minutes for Budget Rental to get us towed to the place across the street. Awesome, great, fine. They get the trailer in and remove the busted stuff. Then they report that they can't fix it. Basically, we should get a motel. That's not in the budget and sure as fuck not acceptable for about fifty reasons, least of all being, Ialready had to take Friday off because of scheduling issues and I'm not paying extra for a motel that allows pets with money I don't have. So we start bothering their fucking vendor for a resolution. Get us a new trailer, where's the new trailer. Three hours, eighty minutes, they're almost there blah blah blah. Bullshit. Every time, each time we spoke to someone, bullshit.

Finally, I lost my fucking temper. The fucking tow yard we're practically stuck at is closed. It's getting cooler and later and we're fucking stuck. Both my cats are getting pissed off and tired and they haven't been to the bathroom, they don't want to eat. It's humid and gross. My cats are stuck in the car with a puppy who doesn't know that no means no.

I start chucking stuff from my sister's vehicle into the truck. As the stupid fucking truck finally pulls up with the new trailer.

Look. I do not blame the people with the trailer.

We should have just shelled out the about four hundred dollar difference for Uhaul.

[field4thought]

advice for the teenager in the bathtub at two a.m.

one: tell your girlfriend what you are planning to do.

you do not want to shock her when you take off your pants and she sees scars.

you do not want her to say what is that - how long ago - tell me if you ever want -

it is easier if she is aware so she can politely avert her eyes.

two: buy neosporin, because it doesn’t burn like isopropyl alcohol but it still

helps seal the wounds and it also keeps them from getting infected

and since you are doing this after you showered, with a clean pocketknife,

you do not need to clean the stripes on your thighs.

three: invest in some gauze pads and wear your black shorts, the one that makes old men stare

because they will hold better than a shitty reusable bandage and even if

you decide to switch the stores you buy them from, eventually someone will notice

that you are buying thick heavy-duty bandages once every two months.

four: do not tell your mother or father or sister or brothers and do not tell your friends.

your family will try to help and they will tell your therapist and you will go inpatient

(again) and you know you cannot even do this while you are inpatient;

and do not tell your friends because they are all shiny and brand-new, high school

companions do not stick and it is because of who you were in high school.

five: along with that last one, do not talk about your depression or meds or anxiety or mania

unless it is in a joking way like all the other kids do because you want to go to parties

and nobody is going to invite a suicidal kid to parties with when all of the pills

say do not combine with alcohol on the sides next to the high dosage numbers.

six: when the doctor asks, tell her about your major and what you will do with it and how

you have always wanted to have a family and how you love your girlfriend and how

you enjoy spending time with your little sister. depressed people, and people who

have extra pills in their closet, do not have hopes or dreams or fun with their sisters.

seven: remember that this is probably how your biological mother started off and, even though

you have not seen her since you were four, you are still very much her child;

how you have both been affected by your grandparents’ enabling and how she wound up

with a needle in her arm and a new family because the judge said she had to leave yours.

eight: do not do a clock or a countdown on public, even on something like tumblr where

none of your online friends know who you really are because the cops can still find you

and show up with an ambulance and a brochure for your mother and polite phrases

and they can drug you for two weeks and send you home dazed and more hurt than before.

nine: wear shorts that go to your knees and keep those black shorts under them, and if

anyone asks say that the long shorts help with your gender dysphoria and tell them

the black ones are packing underwear and how it’s for your dysphoria because

nobody asks questions about that and everyone gets worried about cuts.

ten: when you finally decide to do it, at least write a letter so your mom and dad know

they could not have done anything, and write one for your sister so she knows

that you love her forever and always, and kiss your girlfriend goodbye extra-long

the morning before because she is the only one who knew but even she didn’t know.

eleven: when you die, make sure you have a note next to you that says burn me

and spread my ashes in the creek where i used to catch crayfish with nikki as kids

and make sure you have left all of your comfiest sweaters in your girlfriend’s dorm

and when all of everything is finally fixed, then you can rest in pieces.

[iamf-i-n-e]

I deleted his number...

I deleted his number and all of our texts and everything... 

I deleted it all and I put the rest of our memories in a box that lives on the top shelf of my closet... 

Unfortunately though I cannot delete him from my heart... 

I miss him so much it makes me feel sick sometimes. 

Like I'm dizzy or I'm nauseous. 

Like there is a 555lb weight in my stomach. 

And even when I think about all the ways he hurt me 

And all the ways I hurt him

The image of your face and your eyes and your smile, 

it is never distorted in my brain. 

I still see that sweet and sensitive and loving man I gave my heart to... 

Sometimes I wish I didn't though. 

I wish I could find some kind of hatred in my heart for him

Something to fuel me forward, 

Something to help me heal... 

Hatred, like neosporin 

I could apply it to all my wounds 3X a day and they would heal quickly with minimal scarring... 

But honestly, all I have in my heart is love for him 

And even though love is supposed to be the biggest and greatest and most magical thing 

I can't get it to make me feel better.......

It really just makes me hate myself. 

For letting things get so bad. 

For not knowing how to fix them. 

For hurting him

For anything and everything that brought us here today... 

That brought us here - to nowhere. 

I don't know if our love means anything to him now... 

I just assume our whole relationship has been written off in his mind

And when he tells people about our love 

He'll just say that I used and abused him... 

That's not what it was for me though

Not that it really matters now... 

I will always cherish the time we spent together

Even if those first few months are the only ones that count 

And if I could go back in time, 

To relive it all again, 

I think I might... even the bad

Just to look into his eyes again. 

Just to kiss him again. 

Just to feel his scruffy beard in the palm of my hand again... 

I hold onto our memories so tightly

Because sometimes I'm not sure if they are real or not... 

Did I really feel all this love and all this pain in the span of these few months? 

Is that even possible? 

All I have now are the pictures I've hidden on my laptop to remind me that he used to smile for me. 

It will be years from now and I will still miss him

And I will still love him 

And I will still hope for him... 

It will be years from now and I will still question the stars 

And I will still be asking God, consulting Spirit, pulling the cards 

To try and figure out how and why I lost a love like ours... 

I am so sorry to him. I will forever be so sorry. 

[ballistashoot]

Baki characters as shitty pick up lines

This is my first post so sorry if it's not too good, I'll try to get better <3

🌺 Baki:

I'm not so good at holding conversations… is it OK if I hold your hand instead?

What's that amazing perfume you're wearing? Oh! That's just you? I can't get enough.

Do you have any Neosporin? I just scraped my knee falling for you.

🌺 Retsu:

I would've said "God bless you" after that sneeze, but it looks like he already has.

If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?

I don't consider myself a hoarder but I really would like to keep you forever.

🌺 Katsumi:

I'd like to take you to the movies, but they don't let you bring in your own snacks.

Hey, you're pretty and I'm cute. Together we'd be Pretty Cute.

Go ahead, feel my shirt. It's made of boyfriend material!

🌺 Hanayama:

Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past you again?

Your eyes are bluer than the Atlantic Ocean, and I don't mind being lost at sea.

Remember me? Oh, that's right, I've only met you in my dreams.

🌺 Katou:

I'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty good with numbers. Tell you what, give me yours and watch what I can do with it.

Are your parents bakers? Because you're a cutie pie!

Did you just come out of the oven? Because you're hot.

🌺 Kureha:

Aside from being drop dead gorgeous, what do you do for a living?

You must be exhausted because you've been running through my mind all day.

Can you take me to the hospital? I just broke my leg falling for you.

That's all, I hope you like it!!