#silvadene

[woodsfae]

6wpo re: The Big Wound

My main, largest, longest-lasting wound was about the size of my thumbnail at largest (and I'm so grateful because I've seen some GNARLY, absolutely huge wound dehiscence on the reduction subreddit) and is now a little bigger than my pinky nail. After weeeeeeks. I won't go check my old posts because uuuuuuugh, but I'm pretty sure it opened at 18dpo. And it's now 42dpo, so this has been a JOURNEY. It was very deep at first and grew from 18 to 25dpo, as it spat an internal stitch, and for the first few weeks after that it didn't change in outward size at all, while it healing from deepest to shallowest.

At my 4wpo appt, my surgeon said the wound was entirely superficial and should heal quickly. She also said continuing to put polysporin on it was fine but I could also put on Silvedene if I had it.

I did, and I did. Sadly. Because it turns out Silvadene kills all DNA and RNA in the area!! And I didn't have an infection, so it just killed off all the wound bed granulation I had been watching creep over the wound bed. So the slow, steady shrinking suddenly stopped and the weeping went way, way up. Instead of changing a mostly-dry dressing once a day, serosanguineous fluid was drenching my hydrocolloid bandages and overflowing them twice a day.

A few days ago I was so tired one night that instead of carefully applying salve and massaging everywhere but my wounds I said fuuuuuck thiiiis and just salved and massaged indiscriminately. Then laid around awhile till my skin felt dry and the salve all soaked in, applied my wound bandages, and went to bed.

The next morning (and every day thereafter!) the large wound is shrinking again! Faster than before! It's still weeping quite a bit but new skin is growing in from the edges so much more quickly than I've seen at any point! All I can figure is that the salve luckily brought more productive bloodflow to the area, which is on a low-circulation area of my chest.

Very, very lucky! I daren't hope this wound will be closed by 7wpo, but perhaps by 8???

[ritualisert]

NOOO i forgot the silvadene and i’m out of jelonet

[risenwraith]

#193 Still the world's toastiest and mopiest little vampire girl...

If your skin is healthy and relatively robust and you're being treated for breast cancer, radiation therapy is a piece of piss. You might feel tired once or twice and your skin may become dry, tight or slightly sore around your scar - low grade annoying stuff really.

This is all it is, riiiight up until the final seven or eight sessions, whereupon you feel like an extra in a scifi movie who was left outside the solar shields and has had half their ribcage melted by cosmic rays.

I begged more silvadene burn patches from the doctor and have been liberally applying them under my compress-tube-top as they're the only thing that feels nice. (At this point applying any type of cream or lotion doesn't feel nice at all: it's painful on any area that has peeled, and feels like trying to pointlessly mash butter into old leather on any area that hasn't.)

Also random point of note: dependidng on which tit you lost and what side of the car you sit on, a seatbelt can and will lie right across your burnt lower ribs and annoy the fuck out of them.

The doctor examined my skin today, grilled me (haha) on what creams or patches I used and when, then announced that the treatment could continue and that I was very brave and a trooper.

I didn't really know what to say to any of that. I hadn't been aware that the treatment could or might be stopped, I'd assumed it would continue for as long as needed so long as there was still skin on my ribcage. (Also, still not brave, only practical.) I mumbled something about being younger so my skin was able to handle things better. (I do not wish to imagine what radiation treatment does to the skin of a seventy year old.) She asked if I needed painkillers which also surprised me. I told her no thank you, some bits were painful but not to the point of needing meds. I have no idea if she says and asks these things of all her patients as a standard proceedure, or if I was just looking particularly over-flambéed and stoic about it this morning.

[brewed-pangolin]

Somebody get my man some Silvadene, that's a solid third-degree insult burn right there.

I’ve heard the joke on polish side of tiktok and can’t stop laughing

[caninehealing-blog]

Being able to handle your dog is super important! Here is our Belgian Malinois Cousteau's tail. The first picture is 5 weeks ago. The second picture is a month after daily treatment. And the third picture is today after another week of healing. . . . . . #happytail #belgianmalinois #athomevetcare #silvadene #vetwrap #tailinjury #malsofinstagram #malsofinsta #cousteau #committoit #caninehealing #healthecanine https://www.instagram.com/p/BzHaD6fAKuK/?igshid=1dadupvv8ok4b

[boricuagoddess79]

Seriously I will swear by this for the rest of my life. #ManukaHoney is a natural antibiotic when my arms got infected after surgery I went through jars of #Silvadene and ointment and pills it would not clear up and worse my wounds wouldn't close. So I started using this bad boy. When I say that almost overnight my skin damn near sealed shut I'm not joking. The rate that I regenerated was insane. My doc was like "wow you healed fast!" All it was was this Manuka Honey (brand doesn't matter just the rating). But you have to do your research. There are different kinds and if you have an infection you want it to have a UMF rating of 15 or 20+ or an MGO rating of 514+ the other ones are fine for little cuts or a cold etc. Of course always check with a doctor, you know the drill. I didn't, but that's me. The honey should be just that Raw Honey. No other ingredients. You put it on and cover it with a NONSTICK bandage. Don't use cotton, you'll hate your life. Oh and don't use in babies under a year old because you don't know about allergies. But other than that this stuff is #Magic #armlift #brachioplasty #plasticsurgery #woundcare #honey #newzealand #naturalremedies #homeremedies #healingpower #natural https://www.instagram.com/p/BwS0JxHFUhl/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=65yu6wazsj77

[fourteen--steps]

So my little sunshine boy had surgery on Thursday!

I posted some pictures back in October of the tumor that had grown on his side over the course of about two years wondering what to do about it. He answered that question for me last week when he somehow gashed it open on something and ripped it partly off. Meaning it was time to find a vet asap and get it removed! I have some before and after pictures for anyone who's interested (and for myself to track his progress) that I'm posting under a cut since some of them are a bit icky

Tl;dr, surgery was quick and easy, and two days post op he's doing really well :) I'm really relieved.

So this is what he did that set off the vet hunt 🤦‍♀️ I still have no idea how he managed it, basically everything in the tank is either live plant or silk and soft plastic (save like 2 rocks and the filter plumbing I guess?) But yeah, it went in and up underneath the mass. It was healing pretty well within a few days but I was super worried about him tearing it off further.

I wish I had taken more pics at the vet to show the process. I know not many people take fish to vets and before my first time a few years ago I wish I'd known better what to expect!

I brought him in a 5 gallon bucket of tank water. Some places will also have you bring extra water for sedation or testing purposes. The vet tech took down a bunch of info about my husbandry (tank size, how many fish, maintenance schedule, Remy's age and medical history, the medical history of other fish in the tank, etc).

He was sedated using MS-222, which is an anesthetic approved for use in fish, and the vet did a quick exam of the mass and his overall body condition, as well as getting a proper measure of his weight (130g!!!). He was under for only a couple of minutes before they put him back in his home bucket to wake up and recover. In the meantime the vet gave me his thoughts on the mass (most likely a benign fibroma of genetic origin, like most goldfish tumors are) and gave me opportunities to ask questions. Always ask your vet questions! It's important to be comfortable and understand what's going on.

Only after Remy had fully recovered from the first sedation was he taken to the back to be sedated again for the surgery itself. It took all of 15 minutes before they brought him back out, already mostly awake. Here he is in the recovery tub :)

That's silvadene cream on the surgical site, which I thought was kinda funny since that's the same stuff I used on Nuka (who is a snake) after his surgery. They offered to send me home with some but we decided against it since the stress of chasing him around to take him out and put it on twice a day probably wasn't worth the small benefit.

He also got a pain reliever injection and a fortaz injection to hopefully head off any potential infection.

My favorite pic, tiny 😧 mouth

Here's the mass itself! Seeing it on its own I realized how big the thing was. I kinda wanted to take it with me but the doc said no since it was in formalin 😪 Something something, what if my drunk friends drink it by accident, something something. Like cmooooon I have a six foot fish tank and walk with a cane, you think I have friends?

The silvadene had washed off by itself by the time we made the drive home so I grabbed the poor long suffering fishy for one more pic of the wound itself just so I can track the healing from day to day. It's a bit crispy looking here cause the vet had to go down into the muscle and cauterize it in a few places, but it already looks better than this.

Anyway, he definitely felt pretty bad for the rest of that day. Which I think he was entitled to! But as of now he is back to his usual self. I've added some salt to the water and will be watching him carefully, but I'm hopeful the worst is past.

[hextech-arcanist]

For every 10:1 yes:no I'll add another tidbit lmao.

***

Viktor explained in detail - or as much detail as he ever gave about his personal life and past - over silvadene and bandages. How he’d met the doctor as a young boy, lonely and eager for both knowledge and companionship. How he’d gained both from the doctor, for a time, before one day finding one of his only friends tortured and near death at the other’s hand. How he’d fled and never looked back.

He’d never told Jayce about returning when his own illness worsened, about the source behind vials of shimmer and dangerous experiments performed after dark. Jayce wondered what would have happened if Viktor had.

…He didn’t think it would have made a difference.

[thelastspeecher]

For the Firefighter AU, either Stan or Angie getting hurt on the job, and the other frets over them. Or Wendy becoming inspired to become a firefighter in her future.

So, my dad's a firefighter, and while he never got seriously injured while on the job (at least not to my knowledge), we did have Silvadene cream in the bathroom back when I was a kid. One time, I burned myself getting something out of the oven, and my dad had me put Silvadene on it. I just sort of...accepted that it was some sort of burn treatment and didn't question it. Looking it up now, I see that it's a topical antibiotic used on burns.

That's a long-winded set up to say that Stan and Angie definitely get burnt while on the job. When Stan gets his first burn on the job in Gravity Falls, Angie quickly checks it over and tells him to put Silvadene on it when he gets home. Stan is very confused. Angie asks him what experience he has with emergency medicine, and Stan tells her that all he knows is whatever classes he had to take when he was first hired.

Angie doesn't find this acceptable. Firefighters are often the first people on the scene, so knowing what to do when people are hurt is important. In a small town like Gravity Falls, which definitely doesn't have a proper hospital (they probably have like, a clinic of some sort, but not a full-fledged hospital), first responders need to know their shit.

So Stan winds up getting a full-fledged course in emergency medicine. He grumbles about it, but goes along with it, because A) his job is paying for it, B) he can't talk Angie out of anything she sets her mind to, and C) it would probably be good for him personally to know more first aid anyways.

(Whether or not Stan becomes a licensed EMT, I'm not sure. It's definitely a possibility, but at the very least, he becomes gets licensed as an Emergency Medical Responder, which is a step below Emergency Medical Technician.)

Now. The first time Angie gets injured out in the field (which is probably a really gnarly fire or other emergency, given that Fire Chief is usually more of a desk job than anything else), Stan absolutely loses his mind over it, worrying about her. Angie tells him she's fine, she's had way worse, and she points to her facial scar as evidence.

[whumpster-dumpster]

This may have already been asked before, but what would the recovery process look like for someone who was hit with a firework (probably around the chest/stomach area), assuming that they could get the proper medical help they needed? (also just wanna say I really like your blog, even if I don't use half the prompts or ask related stuff cuz I'm too busy to write often, I still really like learning about it and you explain stuff in such an easy to understand way, so thanks for that!)

(Thank you so much! I’m glad you can enjoy my stuff!)

The recovery process will usually depend on the severity of the burn and the treatment and dressings they’re given. Second-degree burns may take 1-3 weeks to heal, third-degree burns three weeks or more. 

Some types of dressings, like bacitracin and silvadene, need to be changed so the wounds can be cleaned once or twice a day, while others like Mepilex AG dressing may need to stay on for several days until the nurse removes it. They may need physical therapy to stretch new skin and exercise joints. Diet should consist of lots of fluids and extra protein to help the healing process.

[rosesxandxthorns]

@northernxstories​ continued from

Lex was well aware that she was alive because Ivar and she was thankful for that. But nothing she did was because she felt the need to fawn over him in thanks. Though she had treated carefully when she’d first taken Liam in because he’d had every right to kick her down to the lower level with people that worked to keep the place going or had barely scraped enough together to get a room there. But she’d never really thought he would do that though she’d been fiercely protective of the little boy since his entrance into her life. It was why, despite being in the apartment like space with Ivar for a few months, she still slept in one of the twin beds in Liam’s room so she was close by when he inevitably woke in the middle of the night.

“Burns can get an infection like everything else.” She pointed out as she looked through the spot that had been dedicated to medical items and sighed. “You have dozens of boxes of cake mix and not a single tube of silvadene.” Walking back to Ivar she turned the water off and took his hand in hers as she looked at the burn. “We’ll just keep it dry. It should be fine as long as it stays clean.” Taking a deep breath she slowly released his hand as she looked up at him. “I’m sorry I over reacted.”

[solange-lol]

i already know it (i’ll probably blow it)

words: 1,725

read on ao3

—

Camp Half-Blood Thanksgiving was a new tradition, only started after the war with Gaea when demigod lives weren’t as threatened, (keyword being as.)  

Even while it was safe for more demigods to go home, some still chose to stay at camp year-round, or, in the case of Nico, they didn’t have anywhere to go. Thanksgiving in the Underworld could be interesting, but to be honest, the son of Hades was sort of trying to avoid undead beings for a little while.

“Everybody gather around,” Malcolm Pace, head of the Athena cabin after Annabeth left, calls. The rest of the counselors swarmed him as he began to hand out food assignments.

They had decided the best method of going about this was letting the head counselors of every cabin take over one section with Chiron’s aid and supervision. They were just a group of teenagers after all, and what do teenagers know about making group meals for a bunch of campers?

Not much, as it became abundantly clear to Nico as he stands cluelessly in the kitchen of the Big House.

“Nico, you’re on dessert with Drew and Clovis,” Malcolm informs him, steering him in the direction of the two, who are already peeling apples (Drew was peeling apples, Clovis seemed to have given up after one in favor of a quick nap.)

They were also sitting right next to one Will Solace, who was busy peeling potatoes and laughing at whatever Drew just said.

He hesitantly joined the two, trying his best not to make direct eye contact with the son of Apollo. Ever since his three days in the infirmary after the war took place, Nico didn’t know where they were going to go.

The answer was nowhere, apparently, as Will has made no attempt to ask him out since then.

“Why don’t you ask him out, then?” Jason had asked him when he was packing up his stuff from the summer as Nico complained to him. He had found that Jason was the only person with who he actually felt comfortable discussing his more-or-less crush on Will ever since the incident with Cupid.

“Because how am I supposed to know he’s not just like this with everyone? He’s crazy protective like that with everyone; I’m just waiting for him to at least give me a sign that he likes me too.”

Jason had just rolled his eyes. “I think you both are crazy oblivious.”

Nico crossed his arms. “Just because you have a girlfriend doesn’t mean you're the love expert.”

“Then why did you come to me?”

(Said girlfriend later broke up with him, but it’s not like Nico had made any progress anyway, so who cares.)

How was Nico even supposed to know what he wanted with Will anyway? He’d never been in a relationship before, and none of his crushes ever stemmed past more than, well, a crush.

He wishes Annabeth were still here. When it came to crushes on oblivious guys, she was an expert. Nico still doesn’t know how she did it.

“Hey, di Angelo, are you gonna help us with dessert, or should we just watch you stare at Solace all day?” Drew asks, dumping the apple mixture (how did she make that so quickly?) into the pie crust.

When he snaps back, glancing up at her and trying to ignore both Will’s eyes on him and the heat rising in his neck, she just snorts at him. “Wanna get started melting marshmallows for Rice Krispie Treats?”

He nods, and she takes the bag the Clovis had just been using as a pillow out from under his head and hands it to him.

Nico glances at it. “What do I do with this?”

“Mix it with half a stick of butter and pop it in the microwave,” she tells him. Nico follows instinct after that from what little cooking knowledge he has from growing up with Bianca.

As he stands back at the microwave, he can’t help but watch Will, rattling off reasons why his body had subjected him to have a crush on another boy way out of his league. Tall, blonde, blue eyes, assertive, but also nice, could probably carry him, and dumb as rocks.

“Invested in the mashed potatoes?” Will asks, once again snapping Nico out of his train of thought. He holds up a mostly-peeled potato. “Am I up to your standards?”

Instinctively, he straightens his back, playing along. “My Italian mother would cry at that potato,” he informs Will. Behind him, the microwave beeps, signaling its end, but Nico ignores it.

Will just laughs, shaking his head, and Nico continues. “Lucky for you, I don’t have much of a memory from Italy, so it’ll pass.”

“Thank god, you had me worried.”

Before he can say something else, Drew interrupts. “Are you going to get out the marshmallows before they solidify?” she asks him, then holds out a spoonful of some dessert for Will to try.

Nico sighs, turning back to the microwave and opening the door. He can’t tell if he’s jealous, or just frustrated about his first interaction with Will in a while has been cut short. There was that whole thing with Drew, too. He didn’t know what was between the two of them, and frankly, he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know.

“Oh, and be careful, it’s hot!-” Drew warned last minute, but it was too late.

Nico grabs the bowl full-hands on, then immediately squeaks and drops the bowl on the floor with a clatter, the burn already settling into his hand.

Drew glances down at the buttery-marshmallow mess on the floor. “Couldn’t have even aimed for the counter?”

Meanwhile, Will stands up from potato duty, offering a hand out to Nico. “Alright, to the infirmary with you.”

He rolls his eyes, accepting it with his good hand and trying to ignore the way his other one feels like it’s burning off. Together, they exit the infirmary and make their way over to the infirmary next door.

Kayla is already set up for her shift, but as soon as she notices Will’s hand in Nico’s, she just nods them off to the back.

“I guess you don’t cook much?” Will asks once Nico is finally sat down.

“Never really had a reason to, I guess. Coach did all of the cooking when I was traveling with him and Reyna,” Nico explains as Will takes out some cream, tugging Nico’s hand forward so he can lay it on. He seems surprised when Nico barely flinches at it

“Usually Silvadene gets a scream out of campers,” he says, putting away the ointment and begins to wrap Nico’s hand.

“I think you're forgetting I got clawed by a werewolf” Nico reminds him, and Will shudders.

“Oh, no, I remember. Those were a nightmare to heal. Thank gods for nectar and ambrosia,” he says, then reaches behind him to a drawer, pulling out the godly food. “Speaking of which-”

He takes the small square, taking a bite out of the corner “Thanks.”

“What does it taste like for you?”

“Rice Krispie Treats.” Nico deadpans.

Will’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“No,” he snorts, and Will rolls his eyes, laughing lightly. Nico doesn’t know if it’s the sound or the ambrosia that makes his stomach warm.

Will stands up from his seat in front of the bed, putting away materials. He then reaches for Nico’s good hand again and pulls him up. “Well, anyway, you didn’t have to throw a bowl of marshmallow mix on the floor just to get my attention.”

Nico ignores his suddenly-flaming cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he tries to force out smoothly. His voice cracks a bit, and Will's lips twitch upwards. “I really did burn myself.”

“I know, but I could see you watching me.”

He swallows. “You could?” (He’s faced monsters, titans, gods, even Tartarus, but one cocky son of Apollo makes him suddenly lose all his chill?)

“Di Angelo, you are as obvious as I am oblivious. It took Drew telling me to notice, but once I did, I couldn’t stop,” he says, tugging Nico a little bit closer.

The son of Hades leans back a bit, trying to push away the skeletal butterflies in his stomach. “Are you two a thing? You seem awfully close.”

Will raises his eyebrows, and an amused smile on his lips as he pulls Nico even closer. The back of his legs are pressed against the bed, and with a good six inches on him, Will is towering over him.

“Well considering she’s gay and I’m into you, I would hope not,” he says quietly, wrapping one arm around Nico’s waist as he leans down.

“Oh.” Oh.

His face closes in towards Nico’s, so close that his heart is pounding as he waits for Will’s lips to reach his. (Nico could lean forward and speed up the process, but his entire body seems to be frozen in some emotion he can’t quite name yet.)

Just when their lips are inches apart, Will stops. “Can I kiss you?” he mumbles practically against them.

“Please,” Nico responds, and then there they are.

He’s never kissed anybody before. He doesn’t know if Will has, but he’s doing a bit better than Nico. It’s a little messy, and there are no fireworks like in the movies, but it’s with Will, and that’s all he can really ask for at any point.

Will’s hand tugs Nico’s waist closer to him as he tilts his head, and oh. He loses himself in the sensation as Will drops Nico’s hand, letting it move up Nico’s arm to his neck, and then into his hair.

Nico sighs into his mouth. Out of instinct, he put both hands on the back of Will’s neck, trying to pull him closer.

The sudden pressure on his hand makes him wince and step back. He would have tripped backward on the infirmary bed if it wasn’t for Will immediately grabbing his waist, keeping him steady.

“You okay?” he asks, slightly breathless, and the butterflies return to Nico’s stomach.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Do you think you can give me some more of that ambrosia? I need my hand to heal so we can keep doing that.”

Will smiles like he can’t help it, placing a kiss on Nico’s cheek before reaching into the drawer again.

—

solangelo tag list (message/ask to be added removed) 

@unicornsgomooo @anxiouswinter @soulangelou @number-of-fucks-i-give-0 @underworldystuff @theeloquentsnake @solangelover@thefandomsaretakingover @internallyexplodingrainbows​ @motivatedcryptidtamer @emilyfairchild @wherethewildthingsare-nt @hetapeep41 @blavk-dahlia

[l8rhader]

New Chapter of You Can Change Right Next to Me

Read the whole thing Here.

“You’re missing my point,” she said, looking down at her hands.

Rolling her eyes like a petulant child, Sonia asked, “Which is?”

Maggie’s jaw dropped.  She stood, unable to take her ignorance for another second.  “A teenage boy has no reason to know what silvadene is, let alone how to use it!  He’s so terrified of all of the things you’ve drilled into his head!”  She put her hands up gently, palms flexed open wide.  “I get it.  The world is terrifying.  You don’t know what they’re getting into, but Sonia-”  She moved into the woman’s field of vision, squatting down beside her.  “Sonia, you have to let him live his own life.  Especially now.”

“I’ve been saying that for years,” Frank grumbled, earning himself an elbow to the ribs.

The mere thought of that was absurd.  “So, what, I just let him go?” she asked, aggravated.

Thinking that maybe she’d gotten through, she popped back to her feet.  “Yes!  Trust that you’ve raised him right.  Trust that we’ve raised Richie right.  And let him live his life.”

“And when it all comes crumbling down?” Sonia said, phrasing it as a question for the benefit of no one but herself.  While the boys had spent time gaining proficiency in diving into the quarry, Sonia had years on them, but the only thing she was ever good at jumping to was conclusions.

“It won’t,” Frank said, completely and utterly frustrated.  Went instinctively draped a protective arm around him.  This time, he didn’t bother to fight it off.  

That wasn’t enough to convince her.  “And when it does?” she insisted through pursed lips.

Shaking her head, Maggie gave the only answer she could think of.  “You’re his mother.  Be there for him,” she prompted.  All at once, Frank closed his eyes, shook his head, and puffed a blast of air through his nose as he rocked back and forth.  That was never gonna happen. 

[vannahfanfics]

Quiet Strength

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo, Ochako Uraraka

Greetings, all~! Here is my next entry for the @bnhabookclub​’s Bingo Event, for the prompt “First Aid”! Kacchako stans, come get y’all food! \^u^/

Thundering howls of laughter rumbled from Katsuki’s throat as his gauntleted fist crashed through the solid boulder, sending pebbles and baseball-sized rocks sailing in every direction. Steam billowed from the magma seeping from the ultra-hot stone he had essentially liquified with the power of his explosion; the wispy white smoke kissed his sweaty, flushed face and tickled his tousled blonde locks before disappearing into the air. He yanked his fist from the crumbled rock, flexing his fingers experimentally, and hissed at the stinging pain that bloomed across his palm.

What had been the flame-retardant leather devised by the Support Course was now nothing more than a few tattered scraps barely clinging together. Dammit. Now I’ll have to submit for an upgrade. Who knows how long that crap’ll take? He scowled and shook his hand in the air. The bright pink skin wailed at the contact with the rushing wind, sending tendrils of fiery pain jolting up his arm and even into the junction of his shoulder. Katsuki ignored the sharp tingle, stepping over the destroyed piles of rocks to pick his way back down the slope to the floor of the gym.

“Wow, Bakugo!” Eijirou’s ruby eyes glittered in admiration. “You made short work of those boulders! Even in Unbreakable Mode, it took me a few hits!”

“Of course I did, dumbass,” Katsuki snorted and snatched his water bottle from the floor. He winced; in his lack of thought, he had grabbed the plastic container with his dominant hand- the burned one. The condensation littering the cold surface seeped into the singed flesh, making the raw meat there scream in agony. Katsuki only clenched his teeth and sucked down the water, then tossed the now-empty bottle into the garbage can in the corner.

“All right. You all have been at it for two hours,” Mr. Aizawa frowned while glancing at the screen of his smartphone. The gym echoed with exhausted gasps and reeked with the stench of exertion. “You’re done for the day.” Katsuki flexed his hand again, scowling as the pain rocketed through his nerves once more.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck!” Katsuki exclaimed as the water cascaded down onto his wounded palm. He hadn’t anticipated the burn would be so severe. The skin over his fingers and palm bubbled up in several blisters, already filled with fluid though it hadn’t been thirty minutes. The water, though only lukewarm, felt like lava streaming over the injured skin. Katsuki fumbled to wash his body and hair with his non-dominant hand, keeping the burning flesh well away from the shower’s thundering stream. He didn’t even use it to towel himself dry.

“God damn son of a bitch,” he grumbled under his breath as he clumsily fumbled into his sweatpants and a tee-shirt. Why couldn’t it have been his other hand? “Fuckfuckfuck!” he cried as he lost his balance and began hopping around on one foot, his leg half-caught in the thick fabric of the sweats. An angry roar burst from his throat as he slipped in a small puddle of water and fell hard right on his rump. His tailbone wailed protest, spasming the muscles in his lower back, and he unleashed every curse in the dictionary and then some as he writhed on the damp bathroom floor. The skin of his palm pulsed with its own heartbeat, sending fireworks of pain up his arm with every drum. “Fuck me.”

Somehow, he managed to get his clothes on, finally. However, now on top of the burn, his lower back was aching something terrible. He limped into the common room, ignoring the content chattering of his classmates on the sofas to instead hobble into the kitchen. He winced at the stretch as he reached up to begin rifling through cabinets for painkillers and burn cream. He was too invested in his search to see Ochako meander into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of milk.

“Oh, Katsuki!”

“Jesus Christ-! Fuck, shit, fuck, damn it, ahh!” he cursed as he jumped and slammed his burned palm on the underside of the counter. Holding his wrist, he leaned over the granite and wheezed out an exaggerated whine. “What?!” he snarled as the girl scampered over to him.

“Your hand! How did you get such a terrible burn?!” Katsuki ignored the question. Ochako’s brown eyebrows knitted together as she inspected the bubbly flesh of his palm and the clear, sticky liquid oozing from the blister that had just burst. Katsuki clicked his tongue at her simpering piteous expression.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that. I’m fine,” he huffed. He glanced into the cabinet and found that he had been groping around the Silvadene cream the entire time. With a snort, he plucked it from the cabinet and struggled to open it one-handed.

“L-let me!” Ochako insisted and snatched the short, squat bottle of medicine from him. Katsuki turned around to rest his back against the counter, watching with critical red eyes as she quickly removed the lid.

“I didn’t ask for your help, Uraraka.”

“No, you didn’t, but you’re getting it anyway,” she responded coolly, making the corner of his mouth twitch. She slathered a healthy chunk of the goopy liquid onto her first two fingers before gesturing with her chin. “Open up your hand and spread out your fingers.” Though he loathed the fact that he required aid, refusing her now wasn’t worth the energy. Silently, he did as bid. His shoulders twinged with the flexion of his burned fingers. Ochako slopped the bright white cream onto the middle of his palm, and he melted into the countertop with a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he breathed. Ochako smiled sweetly and began spreading the paste across his palm and up onto the undersides of his fingers. A cooling numb spread over the inflamed cells, quieting the piercing pain that had been pulsing in his hand since training had ended. He watched her careful motions with lidded eyes.

“You should be careful, you know,” she chastised him gently. “Even you have your limits. I know you want to get stronger, but nothing will come of pushing yourself to the point that it’s destructive.” Katsuki clicked his teeth at her, cocking his head to the side in a vain gesture. Ochako only smiled and applied a second layer of burn cream to his hand.

“You’re one to talk, Cheeks. What was that whole business with tryin’ to drop the stadium on my head, ah?” The Sports Festival had been months ago, but Katsuki still remembered their fight vividly. The way her body wobbled and sagged to the side, how she struggled with trembling arms to even bear her own weight, the glaze in her chestnut eyes as she struggled to keep her consciousness… His eyelashes fluttered to banish the illusion of the scene as she spoke.

“I have the authority to speak on it because I’ve been there,” she sighed. She stopped her ministrations to hold Katsuki’s hand up with both her own, Silvadene-coated fingertips smearing the medicine over the top of his hand. “Sometimes… everyone else just seems so great in comparison that it feels like I’ll never catch up. In that fight, I was so desperate to prove that I belong here… but it was destructive. I will grow stronger, but with time and effort, not with leaps and bounds born from destroying my body.” Katsuki’s eyes widened as he looked at her. The truth rang hollowly in him. Begrudged as he was to admit it, she was totally right. She smiled warmly up at him and then flicked him in the forehead.

“Hey,” he warned, and she giggled cutely.

“I don’t need another Deku on my hands! It’s bad enough that he’s broken half the bones in his body before the age of sixteen!” She exhaled deeply and retrieved a swathe of bandages. She unpinned the tan, thick fabric, then gently began rolling it around the palm of his hand. “You’ll get stronger, and I will too. We just both need time.” Katsuki frowned and looked away from her, debating whether or not to acknowledge the fact that she was right out loud.

“… All right, all right, I get your point,” Katsuki admitted after several seconds of silence. Ochako pinned the bandages with a small safety clasp and lowered her hands. The fabric was cumbersome around his hand and wrist, and he couldn’t even close his fist entirely. Still, the pain had been reduced to a dull ache that he could easily ignore with distraction. “Hey,” he said as she turned to retrieve her glass of milk, which still lay untouched on the countertop. When she looked back at him with an inquiring look, he blushed and pawed at his gym shorts, not really sure why he had stopped her.

“I, ugh… Thanks,” Katsuki fumbled and raised his bandaged hand. Ochako blinked at him, taking a moment to realize his gesture of gratitude, before smiling sweetly. Before she could respond, he abruptly grabbed her by the head and pulled her into his chest. She squeaked his name with her hands flapping about, not sure where she should place them.

“Hey,” he said softly. Ochako relaxed, and her hands drifted down to rest on his biceps. “You be careful, too. You think I’m stupid? I see you walking home every day wobbling like a drunk, and you threw up four fucking times at training today.” He felt heat bloom across his pectorals as her face heated up. He dropped his mouth against her hair, inhaling her scent of vanilla shampoo. “You be careful, too, dumbass. Who else is gonna take care of me when I go too far?”

“Hehe, okay,” she acknowledged with an eager nod. She pulled away from Katsuki to beam up at him with those big brown eyes that made his heart melt. Snorting at his sappiness, he lightly pushed her away, but the gesture was laced with affection. “Drink your milk, Cheeks. I’m goin’ to bed.”

“Aw! But we’re playing charades tonight!”

“Now I’m definitely goin’ to bed.” As he whirled on his heel, Ochako scampered up to hug his arm and bat her eyelashes pleadingly at him. Katsuki grimaced, but she grinned victoriously as a rosy haze spread over his cheeks.

“Please, Bakugo? Just a few rounds! You should see Kaminari’s impression of a crab; it’s too funny!”

“Agh, whatever, as long as you stop climbin’ all over me like a spider monkey!” he cried and shook his arm emphatically. She stubbornly clung to him like glue, cackling mischievously. “Come on! Let go!” he whined and pushed on her head. Finally, she relented, releasing him from her grip. “Bah, what am I going to do with you?” he growled and ran a hand through his ash-blond hair.

“Aw, Bakugo, don’t pretend you don’t like me!” she said coyly and stuck out her tongue. She gasped in dismay when he snatched up her glass of milk and drained it to the last drop. “Hey! That was mine!” she pouted and snatched the empty glass from him. Katsuki sneered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes glittering playfully.

“That’s what you get for messin’ with me, Cheeks.”

“Ya big meanie!” she snorted, then smiled and nudged him in the ribs. She retrieved the gallon jug from the refrigerator and poured herself another, then skipped to the entryway. “Come on, let’s go!” she insisted and tugged the band of his watch. He allowed her to pull him along by jerking on the device. She smiled radiantly when they entered the common room, greeting their classmates and excitedly scampering over to the sofas to begin the game of charades. Bakugo leaned against the back of the couch, watching her with a tiny smile.

In his mind, Ochako really didn’t need to get stronger. She was plenty strong, but it was not the strength of a physical kind. It was a quiet strength of care and passion. Plenty strong for a reckless dumbass like me, he smirked in amusement. As she clapped happily to Eijirou’s comical rendition of a koala, she caught his eye and smiled warmly.

Plenty strong. Nothin’ frail about her.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List:  @sadistiks​ @wesparklebitch​ @deliathedork​ @simplybakugou​

[robotfather]

Dont be like me this spring and go to a protest without sunblock.

The strap is from my bag. I was in such pain for weeks. I had to teleconference with my dr because my forehead started swelling up. But then my chest started burning and itching and every move I made hurt. It felt like my skin was cracking apart. I called the dr again and I got silvadene cream which helped so much and started healing my burns right away.

But now I have so many freckles on my chest when there were none prior. I’m definitely going to go to a dermatologist to have it all looked at.

I feel sooooo dumb about it still 😅

[twothumbsandnostakeincanon]

Stiles said “ow” a lot. Like, all the time. When he wasn’t even hurt, actually. It was more a statement of surprise.

Face tucked in a book, he didn’t count the steps down the stairs and hit the bottom before expected, saying, “Ow.”

Or carrying a basket of laundry, he’d misjudge the amount of space needed to get through a doorway and bounce off the frame. His body hadn’t even touched anything, and yet “ow” fell from his lips before he even realized what had halted his progress.

Sometimes it wasn’t even physical. If one of the pack snuck up on him and made a sound close to his ear, he’d exclaim “Ow!” as he jumped away.

In the beginning, before his death, Peter thought he just had an incredibly low tolerance for pain. In his revenge addled state, he’d put it down to Stiles being a soft child and left it at that. It was only after he came back that he realized that Stiles had very few soft spots at all, and none of them were physically based.

As Peter grew to like Stiles more, to appreciate his wit and his planning, the “ow’s” grabbed his attention in an irritating way. He found himself more and more tuned to Stiles when he was in the room. The only pack member he cared about, or possibly his only pack member period, was constantly making a statement of distress when there was nothing Peter could do about it because nothing was actually wrong.

It left him with constant simmering instinct to fix whatever was hurting his pack, but you can’t fix sudden startlement at a wall that has been there since the building was constructed, minding its own wall business until Stiles ran into it.

Peter questioned him on why he said it, even outright demanded he stop, but Stiles just didn’t seem to understand.

“Ignore it dude,” he said with a roll of his eyes at Peter’s petulance. “I have other shit to worry about and it’s not even the most annoying thing about me.”

And Peter almost protested. He very nearly slid into an argument the way they had dozens of times before- except, he realized, that he didn’t think it was Stiles’ most annoying feature either. In fact, Peter didn’t think anything Stiles did was annoying.

Or at least not purely annoying. It was either annoying but cute, like the way he wiggled his fingers as he studied the magic of his spark; or annoying but useful, like his tendency to find Peter when he’d been spending too much time alone, thinking about everything he’d lost, and lure him into a ridiculous discussion.

Peter had an appreciation for pretty much everything Stiles did.

When matched up with Peter’s appreciation for Stiles’ lithe body, bright eyes, and obscene hands, Peter realized that he might have a little problem.

Luckily, before he had to deal with any messy emotions or hypothetical “feelings,” a bigger problem rolled into town.

They spent a week hunting down the Will-o’-the-wisp that actually turned out to be a Feu-follet. More vicious, more violent, and more hungry, it wasn’t a fight that the pack was prepared for. Stiles was the one who realized that the only way to kill it was with fire. Close range fire.

Before Peter could even shout, Stiles stepped into the space of the demon, allowing it to grab him with clawed hands, and then shoved a fireball conjured from nowhere into it’s gut.

Moments later, they all watched the Feu-follet collapse into ash.

“Since when do you know how to make fire?” Scott asked, appalled.

“Since right now, apparently,” Stiles answered, tucking his hands in his pocket with a slight wince that only Peter seemed to notice.

“You could have burned the whole forest down, Stiles!” Scott yelled.

Derek abruptly turned and stalked away, obviously eager to get away from the smell of smoke. Peter was hardly any less eager, but he also wasn’t willing to leave Stiles alone with his dipshit friend.

“And the Feu-follet could have ripped out your intestines and strangled you to death with them,” Peter said in a careless voice. “Luckily or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, neither of those things actually happened and we can all go home now.”

Scott was clearly ready to continue the fight with a new target, his red eyes narrowing at Peter, but the rest of the tired pack had already started following Derek.

“I have some books on incendiary magic, Stiles” Peter said, clearly excluding Scott from the conversation. “If you have a few minutes before you need to be home, you can swing by my place and get them.”

Stiles was clearly exhausted; magic took more energy out of him than he’d ever admit, but nodded anyway, and they both walked away without regard to Scott. Peter followed the Jeep to his apartment, keeping a sharp watch in case Stiles started to drift, but they arrived safely.

Once they were in the apartment together, Peter caught a whiff of blood. His eyes sharpened.

“Hands.”

Stiles looked at him, confused.

“What?”

“Let me see your hands.”

Stiles’ eyes widened for a moment before his face took on a squirrelly look, glancing away.

And that was when Peter realized that for as much as Stiles said “ow,” he wasn’t saying it nearly enough. In fact, when Peter thought about it, he realized that Stiles never actually said “I’m hurt,” or “I’m bleeding,” or “does anyone have a tylenol or maybe a shit load of morphine,” after a fight. He always went directly home. Peter clenched his jaw against his own delay in understanding, his own stupidity.

“Hands, Stiles.” His tone allowed no argument. Stiles sighed and finally pulled them out of his jacket pockets.

His palms and fingers were shiny and red. Quarter sized burn blisters scattered the skin, but none were bleeding. Peter’s shoulders tensed as he realized that Stiles would have had to hold the steering wheel on the way over.

“I smell blood. Where are you bleeding?”

Stiles shrugged and then winced, glancing down at his ribs.

“My side apparently. The little shit probably got me with its claws.”

Peter had to reign in a desire to go dig up the Feu-follet in order to kill it again. Instead, he headed toward the bathroom containing his first-aid kit.

“Come with me,” he said, beckoning over his shoulder. “Your side is probably already teeming with infection, and I have Silvadene. Let’s get your hands treated first, and then you can look up how to conjure fire without getting burned.” He paused. “Well, I can look it up. Your hands aren’t going anywhere near my books with Silvadene all over them.”

It took Peter a moment to realize he wasn’t being followed. When he turned around with a raised eyebrow, Stiles just looked baffled.

“You know I can take care of this myself? You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do,” Peter said slowly. “And it just so happens that leaving my favorite pack member to suffer injury without aid is not something I want to do.” Leaving a stunned look on Stiles’ face, he turned around and fetched the kit from the bathroom. Just as he returned to the living room, Stiles seemed to click back on.

“I’m your faaaaaavorite,” he said with a grin, preening. “You admitted it! No take backsies, I’m your favorite. I’m your prized pal, your cherished chum-” he cut himself off with a hiss when he went to take off his shirt to expose the scratches only to find his hands unable to handle it.

“You’re also my favorite idiot,” Peter said, exasperated as he carefully pushed Stiles’ hands away to take over.

His wolf immediately tried to redirect his thoughts to other reasons they might take of Stiles’ shirt. Normally one to agree with his instincts, Peter was forced instead to metaphorically whack himself on the nose with a cringe and focus on the injuries in front of him. Three long, fairly deep scratches ran about eight inches down his ribs. Peter pursed his lips and immediately went for the antibacterial and butterfly bandages. “Stand still.”

Stiles was surprisingly capable of stillness while being treated.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go without tapping your fingers for this long,” Peter said idly.

“Ha ha,” Stiles said sarcastically. “I know how to sit still. I had to give myself stitches after the thing with the witches-”

“You gave yourself stitches?” Peter said, voice sharp. Stiles seemed to realize that Peter was upset, but unsure of why.

“… yes? Just two. But like, that’s two more than I’d ever given myself before. It sucked.”

“Jesus Christ Stiles, why didn’t you tell me?” Peter was just barely able to moderate his voice. He’d spent the last few months itching over Stiles not needing his care only to discover that yes, he had. Desperately. And Peter hadn’t given it.

Stiles didn’t answer him, the surprised look on his face slowly giving way to the same calculation Peter saw when Stiles was working on a particularly difficult piece of magic.

Eventually, as Peter moved from his side to his hands, Stiles quietly said, “I honestly didn’t think it mattered. I can treat myself just as well as anyone else. I’ll heal the same whether I put on the bandaid or someone else does it.” He paused then, looking closely at Peter before continuing. “But it matters to you, doesn’t it?”

Peter said nothing for a moment, focusing on opening a fresh pack of gauze.

“Make sure you use sterile wrappings on this,” he said, voice as quiet as Stiles’ had been. “Burned skin is extremely prone to infection.” He looked up after that, and saw the moment it clicked for Stiles.

Peter, who was a burn victim. Peter, who had received those burns in his attempts to protect his pack. Peter, who was left behind with no pack to care for him. Peter, who would find the idea of doing the same thing to another pack member absolutely repulsive.

Stiles nodded, suddenly full of too much understanding. Peter looked back down at the hand he was working on.

“I don’t know how much sterile gauze I have left at home,” Stiles said to the top of his head when Peter continued to look down. “You apparently have a ton, though.” It was true. Peter’s kit was well stocked.

“I’m not letting you steal my gauze. If you want to use it, you’ll just have to come back here and let me reapply it,” Peter responded blithely as he finished loosely wrapping the second hand. The corner of Stiles’ mouth twitched up.

After the kit was packed up, Peter grabbed the books he’d been thinking of and sat down on the couch, where Stiles immediately sat next to him and snuggled up.

“Your favorite pack member needs to be close enough to see,” Stiles said innocently when Peter raised an eyebrow. Peter snorted.

“Remember to see with your eyes and not with your hands. If any silver cream ends up on these pages I’ll take it out of your hide.”

Stiles grinned.

“Is that a promise?”