#cw tooth extraction

[townofcadence]

"Echoes of the past" 👀 Artair?

Echoes of the Past

This One is Pretty Dark Horror so Heed the Tags Please!

Artair's eyes flicker open with an aching languor. Consciousness drips through him at a pace bordering leisure, drawing him through his dreamlike stupor with coaxing hands. It is only when he remembers those last moments that he snaps further awake; a maw of sharp teeth dripping with his own blood biting down, severing fat, meat, and bone alike. He tries to jerk upwards, but something keeps him pinned.

The room is dark as pitch. He can't see much, save for a few vials of something gold glimmering on a nearby table. There is an amber glow like the barest lick of candlelight, and where it flits, he can see the silhouette of a lantern.

A glance to the right has him making out the outline of a thick leather strap, tightly coiled around his arm. He tries to move but his neck is strapped as well, and the same resistance binds his legs and hips. His leg is still there. His toes can move, and his ankle too despite the restraints. He can feel the half-eaten fabric of his converse, a brush of cold air through the holes.

His brain shorts on whether to be relieved or not, when he's left the frying pan for the fire. A rolling tray sits beside the table he is on. He can see a selection of medical tools and equipment. There are a few bottles of colorful liquids as well. He is... on some kind of table.

A hard, metal operating table.

The haze is continuing to lift, and that is when the pain creeps in. It starts at the edges and he nearly doesn't notice, but the more awake he is, the more it courses through him like a second heartbeat. His chest hurts. He focuses. He looks.

It’s– a moment of pain that feels almost unreal as he shifts his gaze. It shouldn’t be real. It’s like last time but the edges are sliced clean. It’s not jagged, not stone. It Hurts all the same. And he only grows more aware of it, the longer he stares. His vision blurs with gold and green and he seizes in silence. Every muscle twitches and petrifies, until he’s locked in his body like a tomb.

He squeezes his eyes shut, but it’s too late. He knows. He knows. From sternum to navel and with a line that curves just beneath it, he is open.

His head keeps spinning, and a numbing cold creeps over his flesh. He isn’t sure he’s breathing. But he has to be, with his pulse thundering in his ears like it is. He makes a choked sound, mouth opening and closing, but all it feels like he can do it exhale. What had to be inhaling was a paltry shift that felt like this woman-- this Dawn, bringing a knife down into him. Even with closed eyes, his vision goes white.

Fight it. Fight it— he doesn’t even know how. He keeps trying to finish the mantra but the words are lost to pain, dissolving to nothing. He feels pulled apart like cotton candy, and nothing comes into focus long, the longer he exists like this. He is threadbare.

Why is he awake. Why is he awake. Please stop please please stop please please it hurts please–.

His skin burns, still damaged from the monster, from the acid rain. He's silent, mouth open but empty of sound. He isn’t even sure what he’d say, but his body paralyzes on him, and nothing can come out. Blood chokes his throat. Sparks dance over his skin, and he feels a pulsing vibration. He feels drifty and sick. He hurts until it doesn’t hurt because he can’t feel anything else but agony and he's numb. The empty moment makes him so sure he gave out. Then he’s forced to inhale and it cycles again. He can’t– how is he awake? How is he alive? Stop please just let him sleep.

“There you are, Artair. Did you sleep well?“ Dawn smiles at him; her eyes settle on him like an interesting object, her saccharine smile stretching too far on her face, but not meeting her eyes. She tilts her head. He thinks about how many photos he'd found in her study, the newspaper clipping about the storm, and his life laid out in Polaroids. “You’ve done wonderfully, boy.”

He wants to be strong. He wants to spit in her fucking face. He wants to bite her or say something cutting or make her think he doesn’t care. He wants to be strong. To be brave, to be able to tuck it all in a neat little box and show his mettle, his determination and how indomitable he can be.

But he can’t. He can’t . He feels his tears running in streaks down his cheeks. He feels blood paint his lips with a cough that leaves him convulsing– which only means more movement. and that means more agony, excruciating and building up to something until he’s sure he's going to explode.

A sob escapes him, nails digging into the metal of the operating table. He pants through his mouth to stay breathing. His heart beat drowns out almost everything but her voice, and the singing and stinging of her scalpel. She is peeling him back further, slitting her way through muscle. He spasms.

“Are you awake now? I thought you’d like to talk to me at some point. Now you can. So speak.””

A shallow breath cuts through his lungs. He forces his eyes open. They shade the world in gold and green. His vision blurs until he blinks away more tears. But he does, again and again in rapid blinks, so he can see her face. He wants to memorize it. He needs to, so he can make sure they find her later. If he makes it.

Words… his lips move soundless. He coughs more. He’s pale, clammy, shaking. Sweat beads along his brow. Her hand comes near his face again and he flinches. His body protests like he’d thrown himself into a bed of spikes, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want her to touch him.

“W—” He chokes. The word stays lodged in his throat until a few swallows loosen it again. “…Why.”

"Why?” She repeats, and a gloved hand comes to her cheek, fingers folding over her mouth. She laughs behind them, warm and tickled. the nitrile leaves a speckle of blood on her cheek. “Because you aren’t what you say you are. My curiosity has been piqued. As has someone I work for! But I thought I would see what I could glean before he whisks you away. All great researchers need to do their part and explore the unknown. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Artair- blinks. He could barely think, barely comprehend the words, let alone understanding what the hell she could even be possibly talking about. He let out a soft whimper. “I-I—” He felt an urge to cough, to throw up, and his voice died out. He didn’t— he was just human. He just— his magic was haywire! That wasn’t— he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand.

Dawn leaves him there. She returns with a pack, one he recognizes. He had been carrying it through her house, and it is filled with everything he'd grabbed. She opens the bag and roots through it.

It’s hard to think right now. But he doesn’t understand. She holds up each item from his bag for him to see. Some of them he thought he’d lost, but it seems she retrieved them too, from the bullpen. He sees his knives, all the books he’d taken, the gauze and cream and bandages, the photos. She’s showing him everything.

His brain is saturated with suffering to a point of silence. He– can’t think. Can’t understand. He wants to. He stares at her with pained eyes, brain banging against the walls of his head in an effort to work and understand. His gaze follows each item to the metallic table next to him. His arms and legs shift. It’s painful and the straps are too tight to move.

With the last of his items showcased and set on the table, she places the bag aside. Artair watches her work, fraying thoughts piecing together what she intends. She hums as she moves, slender fingers unfurling a wrapped plastic toolkit. Inside he sees– more surgery and medical tools. It makes his heart beat faster. He feels his mouth go dry. Her fingers curve over each tool, as if she’s exploring them again, leaving the barest of marks against their chrome finish. She continues to hum, before it dies away.

Her heels click as she circles him, plucking the scissors from their place. He feels her fingers caress his hair, carding through it. They tighten into a fist and and pull the strands of his hair taut. He groans as it's pulled, pained at the movement, at the way it burns at his scalp. His heart bounds, thundering against his ribs. She comes closer to his face.

Snip.

He hears the edges cut through the strands, and then she retreats to open a case. The lock is deposited within, somewhere he cannot see.

Click click click. She rounds back into his vision. His scalp aches where she pulled, but compared to everything else, it’s nothing. But it sets him on edge. She’s humming again. Her smile has never left, and she pets his head as if to soothe him like a doting mother. "Now be a good young man and hold still."

She makes his skin crawl. His head turns away from her hand. But the smile stays on her face, and he can see it in his peripheries as she rakes her gaze over him. The bindings on his arm creaks, but even the tug cuts through him until he tastes acid burning in his throat. Each breath is a labor, a testament to his grit, his need for survival.

She leaves his face for his hand, stroking at the tendons where they just show on the skin. Down his leg she goes, until she reaches his shoes.

Her hands move methodically. They’re surgeon’s hands, doing everything with this meticulous care. His toes flex as she grips his converse, and undoes their lace. She pulls them back a loop at a time, until it’s open enough for it to be slipped off. He watches each tug where her nails reflect the overhead light, listening to the coarse brush of fabric, as each lace slid further loose. She cupped the back of the shoe, pulling it free. He could see the holes in the rubber now, when she held it up, still humming. Next came the sock, equally damaged. He feels cold air and it soothes just as much as it twists his insides like he’d applied a corkscrew to his lungs.

He can see the glint of silver, and he– complies, with her earlier command. He hears his heart in his ears as her fingers hover almost– uncharacteristically careless, over a toe, so the blades of the scissors rested open on either side. His heart found its way to his mouth.

He felt the edge dragging along his skin. The scissors snipped, and he could almost cry, scream, as all he lost was a nail. A whimper left him.

“Don’t worry dear. We’re not done yet.” She crooned, patted his ankle. Her hand continued up his leg and he wanted to ignite every molecule of himself with lightning like he had these scant handfuls of times, just so he could stop her from fucking touching him.

His shoulders tensed instead. His eyes looked for the door.

He shouldn’t expect it anymore. He shouldn’t. But he could just– imagine. Imagine Elias and Eevie and Prince breaking through, rushing to his side. Imagine them touching his face, pressing their head into his and telling him he’d be okay, he’d be okay, they wouldn’t let her go any further. He was safe.

But her hand continued up his side, curving to touch his forearm, where it wasn’t restrained. They didn’t come. They wouldn’t. He…

He was alone.

And a worse, sickening thought sunk talons in his brain, making him twist further into knots: he hoped his friends who might be looking didn’t find him. He didn’t want them– anyone– to find this place.

Artair tries to shift, away from her as she nears him again. his parted chest reminds him why that is a fool's endeavor with another seize of his body. He screws up with a thready breath.

Her voice bounces in a sing-song. "Don't worry about falling asleep on me, dearie. You won't until I want you to."”

Artair’s eyes flick blearily back to her. It took a moment for the words to register, but when they do, he feels…cold. Cold at the limbs, at the tips of his fingers. He— he didn’t know what that meant. But if he focused, if he really tried, there was a faint buzz, a steady if fractional thrum of magic through the cool metal on his back. There was a spell in place.

He shouldn’t be awake. She wanted him to be.

Her gloved hands find a scalpel and let it glide along his shoulder to his bicep. He stays as still as he can, with a tremble he can't control, so it does not cut. Of course, it does not matter.

It starts as a threaded hiss through clenched teeth, as she slivers slices into flesh, tracing a perfect square. His blood is back to red-gold, glittering and stark against his pale skin as it beads and seeps from her blade's precise strokes. She seemed to measure, giving him a breath.

He screams, when the scalpel plunges further, parting dermal tissues, cutting through fat and capillaries and spilling more blood, now in a steady flow. His back arches and his voice goes out, fracturing and breaking before falling to silence as she digs and keeps digging. His chest feels like it’s tearing. The blade sings with a burn. It’s cold metal and hot viscera and his knees jerk.

His arm does too, and it sends her slightly off course. She clicks her tongue and cuts a little more away from him, makes the sample a little bigger, a perfect square.

He feels like he’s frothing at the mouth. His body wants to move, make it stop, but every twitch is worse, makes him feel like he’s so so very alive and dying at the same time. He’s aware of it, aware he could die here, aware of how she could snip and pull and tear until he’s just a collection of samples on the table in her lab. It was– visceral. It pierces through him, the realization puncturing him like stone through his gut. He could die here. He could die, she could kill him he could die–

He can’t hear her. His heartbeat is too loud. The only thing louder is the wet sound of his blood pouring into a basin beneath him, and the slick plop of his own flesh, dropping into the metal case. Is he breathing still–? It’s all white noise in his ears and his head is starting to spin.

But the magic means he can’t sleep. He can’t stop this. He can’t move. He’s helpless.

"Open your mouth, sweetheart. Keep it wide now."

He can hardly process her sugar-laced voice, but at the sound of it, his eyes flick to her. She’s smiling that smile that makes him want to rip off the rest of his skin. She’s smiling and she has a small, metal bar in her hand. She’s smiling and her eyes are sharp and cold and it makes her look more like what he feels when he sees her. He tries to edge away, turn his face, shake his head no. A hand finds the strap that curls over his neck and she yanks. It keeps him further still, belting him into place. He chokes and she meets it with a hum.

It’s such a soft one. A casual one. She might be reading an article about some new discovery in science. She might be studying a rock she’d found while hiking. She brushes at his face and he snaps at her, brain blank and limbs only not shaking from how still he’s held.

She tuts at him, like a mother scolding a child, or an owner at their dog. The metal bar is pressed against his lips. He forces them to stay closed.

She holds his nose until he’s forced to gasp for air, and wedges it in. It locks behind his teeth, jammed against his tongue and unyielding to any pushes. His chest is rising fast, breaths leaving the room spinning. The metal beneath him is getting warm.

He hears the clack of metal. He hears it and he knows what’s coming but he can hardly parse it. He can’t breathe. Saliva pools on either side of his lips, running down each cheek. His breath comes shallow, ragged, as he sees the tool in her gloved hands, feels the metal slide against his teeth as it enters his mouth. He feels tension on one of his incisors.

Tensing doesn’t help. It doesn’t help he can’t stop it he can’t stop it he’s cut open he’s injured he’s bleeding he can’t do anything he can’t fucking do anything—

He wails as it gives way, feeling flesh rip. His back arches again, curving excruciatingly upwards until he’s sure he’ll snap in half. He’s seeing stars, and static bursts along his skin. Gold fills his mouth, paints his lips.

She seems unperturbed. The metal below him warms further as he sparks. They light up her face and she’s still smiling. “Good boy.” He sees the fang in her pliers and hears the click of his tooth in the box. He gurgles and coughs, and his whole face is painted in blood, where tears don’t track it already. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe.

But he won’t fall asleep.

She doesn’t want him to.

[canonkiller]

they didn't even give me the teeth after

[whumpfish]

Extractions! (Tooth vs. Nail)

I've been wanting to do this one for a long time, for all you torture fans out there...

So I metabolize lidocaine like a motherfucker, and any time I get a local, I always have to get a second one halfway through whatever is being done. For the most part, doctors and dentists listen to me when I say this... for the most part.

Tooth

(The oral surgeon did not give me my second shot when I asked for it.)

1. Any fillings you have will collapse under the pressure of an extraction, even a medicated one. (I'm not sure if this is true for metal ones; all of mine are plaster.) It produces a half-crunch, half-thunk sound that reverberates in that half of your skull and sounds absolutely terrifying.

2. The pain of an unmedicated extraction is acute and radiating at the same time. The acute part feels more like having a stiletto stabbed upward into that space than a tooth taken out in a downward motion.

2a. In maxillary extractions, the stab goes straight up, and depending on the location of the tooth, that stab can feel pointed anywhere from your eyeball (frontmost) to right into your brain (rear).

2b. Mandibular extractions* stab downward from the chin (frontmost) to the hinge of your jaw and straight down your throat (rear).

3. The radiating part spreads like a flower blooming, from a concentrated central point outward in a rolling movement.

4. Your ears might pop like an airplane taking off as that blooming pain reaches the hinge of your jaw. Sometimes only in the one ear.

Nail

(I have been doing minor self-surgery** for years because I am genetically predisposed to ingrown nails, and if I don't catch it in time, they grow straight down and I have to extract them to be able to trim them. If I really don't catch it in time, they grow straight down and then curl backward, and I have to get an actual surgeon involved.)

1. Self-surgery, split off edge of nail, 0 to 1/2" down and backward: You have to wiggle these in a sawing/rocking motion back and forth in order to get that tiny bit of root to let go, and when you "saw" backward it feels more like a steak knife than a butter knife, this time moving with the direction of the nail. Then it reverses when you actually yank.

1a. The yank hurts more than the sawing, sharp like a stab from a steak knife instead of one being pushed in slowly.

1b. You will get the best whump out of a whumper splitting off the edges of the nail and doing this and then yanking the middle part

2. Medicated: Locals in the toe/finger area hurt like a bitch. They're sharp and needling like a stiletto to a paper cut, then if someone tried to pry that cut open. At the same time, they feel hot, almost burning. (Hotter than anesthetic being pushed through an IV, if you're familiar with that sensation.) And there are so many nerves involved that just the first round of locals takes 3-4 shots.

3. Unmedicated, grown down and backward, 1/2" to 3/4": The last time I went in, my surgeon said "given the amount of times I have to shoot you up, you'll probably hurt less if I just yank." (She was right.) This sumbitch goes in both directions, down/back from where the root is, then forward. The down/back is a stabbing pain. The forward is like somebody trying to pry open that papercut, a sensation probably caused by the fact that you are in fact messing with something stuck in a very small cut in the skin, in my case the cut was just caused by the nail that has now been removed.

4. If it is a toenail extraction, you are going to bleed significantly more than teeth or fingernails, because your body has to work harder pushing blood up through your leg veins than it does pushing it down into your shoe. Especially when you take a step. Ibuprofen makes this worse. If you take ibuprofen at all that day, expect your shoe to fill up when you take a step. (Mine did, scaring the tar out of everyone present, including me.)

Pain Intensity Verdict:

Teeth > Nails. By a LOT.

Happy yanking!!

*Because of nerve fuckery, dentists using the sonic cleaning tool despite my warnings results in a pain on the level of extractions, and the sensations described here are based on my experience with that.

**This never fails to horrify my friends. They'll see what I'm fixing to work on and say, "Oh ouch, that's bad, go to the doctor," and I'm just like "nah, just get me isopropyl alcohol and some office supplies, I got this."

[what-yadoking-likes]

[Link to Part 6 here]

Over the next 48 hours, Hoxton became something so unrecognisable to himself it gave him whiplash. 

It had all started with his efforts in the kitchen. He made sure Wolf ate each and everything put before him so he’d have sufficient strength for the tooth extraction the following day. He set alarms on his phone so he knew when Wolf could take another dose of the super strong painkillers he’d been prescribed, and a separate one to tell him when the Swede should take his antibiotics to clear his body of infection. Every need Wolf had, he tended to. There was nothing too small or insignificant he wouldn’t do for the other man - he just wanted to see him well again.

The next day, he accompanied Wolf to the dentist’s office where he was to have his tooth extracted. Rami shot him a sympathetic, knowing look, and greeted Wolf heartily as she booked him in.

As he waited, Hoxton shot off a text to Gao Fong - could he bring over a generous serving of the best congee DC had to offer? He saved more recipes for soft and tasty, nutrition-dense foods in his phone.

Next of kin. Next of kin. Next of kin.

It made sense. They’d been together for a while. They cared for each other deeply. But to be entrusted with decisions regarding Wolf’s medical care, his treatment, his life?

It was a lot. It felt like staring into the dripping maws of a mighty monster. It felt like a gentle breeze on a balmy summer’s night. It felt like responsibility and seriousness and something formal. It felt wild and exciting that made his stomach flutter. It felt -

Thud, thud, thud. Wolf emerged behind the dental surgeon, the left-side of his face slightly swollen, but looked otherwise as he ought.

Relief - sweet, sweet relief - Hoxton took Wolf’s hand without hesitation, pulling him to his side even as Wolf listened to the surgeon’s advice post-extraction and took his money. For a moment the mere thought of their hands ever separating from each other for even the briefest time... it felt as if Hoxton’s heart had been cleaved in two.

Next of kin next of kin next of -

[castielsparkle]

me when my because the .

[thebeegalaxy]

tw: Venting, Neglect, Abuse, Mother issues,

Will I always be less than priority?

Im assured that I'm priority, Im assured that when I need someone I can just ask. But every single time I actually need someone they flake, dismiss me, and push my issues to the side.

I was assured that after my dentist appointment I could rest and would have someone there if I needed. The day comes, and everyone flakes. Im forced to go do work and errands because my Care-family cant keep a single promise.

I thought that it would be better after I left my moms. I guess I was severely mistaken.

I thought that leaving my moms abusive and neglectful house would mean that someone would finally care. Leaving has meant I'm no longer yelled at, dishes are no longer thrown, I can finally take care of my mental and physical health; I am finally allowed to go to doctors without the fear of what may happen when I do. I am no longer her therapist.

I guess I was naiive to think that leaving abuse would mean someone would finally care about me and my wellbeing.

I care about me; When will someone else do the same?

[the-kr8tor]

High on the Feeling

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Summary: Hobie goes to the dentist and you leave with a very giggly and sweet Hobie high on anesthesia.

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw blood, cw food mentions, talks of marriage, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff.

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

You've practically flipped through every single magazine in the dentist’s waiting room while you wait for Hobie. He's been complaining about the annoying ache in his molar that has hindered him from doing his responsibilities for the past few weeks. And after some convincing on your end (and a lot of smooches and coddling), he finally accepted that he needed a tooth extraction.

Now, you'd think that with his abilities that a regular ol' anesthesia wouldn't even work on him. But judging from the lack of swearing and screaming behind the tooth shaped door, you and Hobie's hypothesis were dead wrong.

You pick at your nails while you wait, and listen to the cheery pop song that's starting to make you more annoyed than the hospital-like smell of the place. The walls are painted stark white with a bunch of Ikea bought shelves perched on it where a bunch of teeth related decor sits and a handful of picture frames filled with stock photos of smiling people. You feel unnerved by the choice in decoration. Couldn't they just put infographics on how to properly brush your teeth like a normal dentist?

As the thought passes by your mind, the tooth shaped door opens and out comes Hobie stumbling over his own feet. Boots stomp loudly on the tiled floors, and you immediately run towards him to catch his flailing body.

Thankfully, you catch him in time, his head falls on your shoulder as his arms fall limp on his sides. His muffled groans reverberate, making you turn towards the rushing dentist assistant with her hands frantically pushing a wheelchair that you surmise was supposed to be Hobie's ride out.

“Is everything okay?” You ask both the nurse and Hobie, who's basically laying his entire weight on you. You feel his drool leaking onto your shirt. Or his shirt for that matter.

“I'm sorry, he just launched himself out of the wheelchair!” She sighs tiredly. “He keeps saying that London needs him. And that he's Spider-Man.”

Your eyes widen for a second before fixing your expression. “...Oh,” you say, laughing nervously. You put your arms under his armpits to hold him better. But it doesn't make it any easier to carry all 6 feet and three inches of Hobie. “How did it go? Is he alright? Except for being a drama queen.” You joke so that the woman forgets what Hobie told her.

Fortunately, she chuckles. “Yeah, the procedure went well. Although, he was a lightweight with the anesthesia. Like he was out out.”

“Really?” You furrow your brows questioningly while you hobble towards the wheelchair to sit him down or your hold on him will fail since he's tethering to the side now. “I thought you might've needed more of it than less.”

“Us too, he's just a bit loopy but he'll be okay after a few hours.” She helps you put Hobie on the chair, he falls unceremoniously on it with a clatter of metal. “I suggest you drive him home.” She winces when Hobie mumbles something incoherent with a giggle right after. He looks like a happy camper.

“Yeah, for sure.” You think he looks adorable with him looking like he's high up in cloud nine. He seems fine except for his droopy eyes and mouth, and all the drool pooling in the corner of his lips. At least he's not in pain anymore. Taking a handkerchief from your jean pocket, you gently dab at the corner of his lips, to which he hums appreciatively. “Thank you, I'll take it from here.”

She smiles as she hands you the push handles of the wheelchair over to you. “Of course—oh, I almost forgot. We kind of promised him ice cream.”

“Coconut!” Hobie suddenly yells, perking up from his seat with wide eyes. The other people waiting in the room jumps from their seats. If something bad happens to him because of the anesthesia, you're going to sue this place to the ground. You place your hand on his shoulder, which he immediately calms down and looks up at you with stars in his eyes.

“Coconut ice cream to be exact.” The nurse gives you an apologetic look.

“Good thing I know where to get some.” You smile down at Hobie, only to find him boyishly smiling up at you.

“You're pretty.” He whispers breathlessly like you've taken the air from his lungs. His hand holds the back of yours, patting it softly. He looks as handsome as ever even with a cotton ball shoved in his mouth.

“Thank you, Hobs, you're pretty too.” You feel like melting on the spot as he smiles at you. “Let's go home first and then I'll get you a whole pint.” Hopefully he'll be sober by then, although you're loving his lovestruck gaze on you.

“Home?” He asks while you push him towards the exit.

“Yeah, we live together, Hobie.” You giggle, nudging the top of his head with your chin. The bells hanging above the door jingles when an attendant opens it for you. The cooling autumn air greets you and Hobie.

“Woah.” He sighs like he couldn't believe your words. “We married?”

You pause right next to the van, heart squeezing in your chest. “Oh, Hobie.” His question is the most adorable thing you've ever heard.

“Oh no,” he utters like he hurt you. Stumbling out of the chair, he turns towards you to rub your arms just like he always does whenever you need comfort.

“Sit down, Hobie, you might fall—” His hands cradling your cheeks stop you from continuing. You see his eyes well up with tears, pretty hazel eyes glimmering under the afternoon sun. “Oh, baby, don't cry.”

“We're not married?” His lips wobbles, “that's bonkers.”

“Do you want us to be—?”

“Yes.” He says before you could finish your sentence. You hold him by his waist, helping him with his balance.

You chuckle with a soft smile, hand reaching up to rub your thumb along his chin as you peck the tip of his nose. “Tell you what, we'll talk about it in the car.”

“Really?” Hobie's eyes light up. You've only seen him like this whenever he gets home early on patrol only to see you waiting for him happily.

“Yes really. We’ll feed our guests coconut ice cream.”

He drops his head back, chuckling deeply. You raise his head back up in fear of him choking on the cotton ball. Once his head is upright on his neck once again, he grins at you. “You know ‘m Spider-Man, right, love?”

Your guffaw echoes around the parking lot, “off you go in the van, Spider-Man.” Guiding him towards the van, you turn the corner to open the passenger door for him.

Hobie takes a big whiff, and you look on with an endeared smile. “I smell pine.”

“Yeah, it's the scent thing we bought at the gas station.” You point at the swinging 2d pine tree in the rearview mirror, other hand placed on the small of his back, making sure that he doesn't fall.

“I don't fancy pine.” He pouts uncharacteristically, making you clamp down your lips to quiet your giddy laughter.

“It was the only thing available. We'll get a new one, okay?” Kissing his shoulder, ready to guide him on the seat, he leans in for a proper one but you move away before he could. He pouts again, brows fully knitted together. “Sorry, but we're in public, Hobs, and you have a bloody cotton in your mouth.” You really want to kiss him, you really do, but he probably can't tell his right from his left right now.

Hobie scrunches his nose, hand reaching up his mouth but you stop him halfway before he could yank it out. “Why?” Swatting your hand away, he playfully fights with you.

You continue to fight with his long arms, you two must've looked like a couple of kids baby fighting in the middle of the parking lot with your hands slapping his own away. “Because, you can't— Hobie! You can't take it off!”

“But I want to snog you.” If it wasn't for his haze filled eyes, you'd think that he's playing with you.

“I promise you can snog me as much as you want later when you're well aware of your surroundings—!” His hands manage to grab hold each of your wrists, braceleting his fingers around them. You fight a giggle, acting like you mean business but the amusement in your eyes says otherwise. “Get in the car please.”

“You promise later?” Hobie clicks his forehead against your own. Eyes fully closed, sighing quietly.

Rubbing his back, you let him calm down from his high for a moment. “Yes, I promise—” you hear soft snores. “Are you asleep?!”

After wrangling Hobie into the passenger seat, making sure that his seatbelt is properly settled, you finally pull out of the parking lot. Once you manage to get back on the road, you glance towards Hobie, who's looking out the window with his face squished on the glass.

“You okay over there?” Patting his leg, you get his attention, and you swear he looked like he just realized you were in the car with him when his entire expression lit up like a billboard in New York. “I wish I had a camera right now.”

“What for?” He places his head on the head rest, cheek smooshed on the leather, eyes sparkling as he looks at you softly.

“To take a picture of you.”

“I want to take a picture of you.” He says softly, “a million pictures of you.”

“Can one of those pictures be with you too?” You grin, trying to focus on the road ahead instead of looking at the adorable sight next to you.

“If you want to.” His eyes flutter close, but he's clearly fighting sleep.

“Well, I want to.” You stop the car when the light turns red, a perfect opportunity to hold his hand. “You can nap if you want. I'll wake you up when we're home.”

“I want to pick flowers for you.” You swear your heart jumps out of your chest. “But only your favourites.”

“And I'll get you coconut ice cream as much as you want.”

His eyes closes to the hum of the engine. “I'll share it with you.”

“I know you will, Hobs.” Kissing the back of his hand, you let him go just as when the light turns green.

Hobie has always been sweet on you, but this time, he's beyond just being sweet. Your teeth feel like it's rotting from how incredibly saccharine he is. And you love every second of it, but you wish that the meds wear off so you could be with the same Hobie who hogs the blanket at night and who wakes you up with his cold feet against your thigh.

—

You cuddle close to Hobie whilst you feed him spoonfuls of coconut ice cream on the sofa. The anesthesia has completely worn off, sobering up to his old self. You've given him his pain meds and you've lit up a scented candle for him to relax more. Crumpet sleeps next to him, face snuggled up against his side, unbothered by everything that's happening around her. Your head finds penchant atop his chest as his palm rests above your stomach after he casually flung your shirt over his hand to feel your warmth.

“How's the pain?” You ask, while he draws patterns over your soft skin.

“Throbbin’, a three right now. Nothin' I can't handle though.” He says while you scoop out another spoonful for him. “I think they took more than one tooth.” He says while he opens his mouth for you to feed him another dollop.

“Do you want me to check?” You tease, pointing at his bottom lip with the spoon, looking up at him with a smirk.

“Maybe later,” he squeezes your nose before letting go with a chuckle. “What else did I say other than tellin' people my secret?”

“They didn't believe you anyway, thanks to the meds.” A drop of ice cream falls from the bowl down to your hand, licking it off, you let the sweet treat melt in your mouth after giving it a taste. He looks at you like you're the dessert. Smiling, you perch both of your legs on his lap, to which he just grins wider at. “You really want to know?”

“Was I that embarrassin’?” Hobie nudges the crown of your head with his nose to tell you that it's his turn to be fed. Arm pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Blackmail worthy,” you joke, you move to take another mouthful of ice cream but he beats you to it by taking your wrist to lead the spoon towards his mouth instead. “Rude.” You giggle and he pinches your side.

“C’mon, tell me.” He wipes away a bit of cream from the corner of your lips with his thumb, which he quickly licks away, flustering you in your seat. He smirks victoriously, eyebrows raising smugly. He knows what he's done.

“Fine,” you laugh, pushing at his chest lightly. “you asked if we were married. And you cried when I said no.”

“That's… the right reaction.” He tilts his head in the same way like he's hiding a surprise for you. The last time he did this was when he got you your favourite pasta from a restaurant across the city.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What do you mean?” Your heart thuds loudly in your chest.

“Even my high self knows about it.” He side glances at you, while you're left pondering what he meant, he takes the bowl of ice cream from your hands. “My turn to feed you, lovie.”

“Hobie,” your eyes shimmers under the cinnamon smelling candle light, you hug his middle with a shaking arm. “What do you mean?”

He makes a face, shrugging while a bright smile spreads across his face. “Nothin', love.”

You laugh giddily, waking up Crumpet from her nap. “Okay then—wait, you're fucking with me aren't you?” Narrowing your eyes, you shut your mouth as he tries to feed you a scoop.

“Open up,” Hobie holds the spoon up for you, winking as you gaze at him softly. You still don't open your mouth, so with a glint in his eyes, he leans close to you, smashing his lips to yours, tasting the coconut on your lips while you laugh against his lips as the kiss turns from a playful one to a gentle, loving kiss.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

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[starchild-unnamed]

Medicine & Marshmallows

Summary: Law’s chronically ill partner hates managing their medications, so he decides to make it a little more enjoyable.

(Inspired by my own hatred of managing my meds)

Words: 694

Soft!Law x chronically ill!reader, established relationship, gn!reader, pure fluff, no use of y/n

cw: non-terminal chronic illness(unnamed), prescribed medication use

✦•····························•✦•···························•✦

It was quiet as you sat down with your least favorite box at one of the communal desks in the infirmary; the only sound to be heard was the steady hum of the Polar Tang. For a moment, you just sat there, staring into nothingness. You hated doing this— the premise, the necessity, the task itself, was all loathsome to you. Resigned, you lifted the lid and glared at the box’s contents as though they had personally insulted you.

After a few moments, your trance was broken by a tap at the door. There in the entryway stood Law, two steaming mugs in hand, and a paper bag in his mouth. “I come bearing gifts,” he mumbled around the parcel between his teeth.

You offered a halfhearted smile as he made his way across the room to put everything down on the side of the desk opposite the accursed box. “I hate doing this,” you sighed.

Sitting down at your side, Law looked at you sympathetically. “I know you do, but it’s a necessary evil. Hopefully my peace offerings help with that.” He gestured at the drinks and small bag, dragging them towards you. “This week is extra special, since we just stopped at that island,” he continued.

Wrapping your hands around the warm ceramic, you peered into the mug and laughed. “Went a little overboard on the marshmallows this time, huh babe?” Based on his generally stoic, no nonsense attitude, one may quickly assume that the Surgeon of Death exclusively drank black coffee. In truth, however, Trafalgar Law had an insatiable sweet tooth; when it was just the two of you, he generally opted for hot chocolate in your matching polar bear mugs.

Law looked up at you from where he was rummaging through the bag he had brought with him. “I know how much you despise doing this, so I added extra to make you feel better. And I picked these up from that bakery we saw yesterday.”

You felt a surge of affection for the man beside you as he pulled out two cinnamon rolls. “You didn’t have to do that, Law. Thank you.”

He smiled softly, in the way that he reserved exclusively for you. “I know how much you hate box day; I figured I could make it at least a bit more enjoyable.”

That’s what you had dubbed this dreaded weekly chore: “box day.” At the beginning of each week, you had to take out that accursed box and sort your countless medications into their daily compartments. The process was tedious and mind numbing, but you knew it was a necessary evil. Much to his credit, however, your partner did what he could to make it less unpleasant.

One by one, labeled bottles of multicolored capsules and tablets, each with a different purpose, were extracted from the box. With Law’s help, you made quick work of organizing the vast array of medications that kept you in working order, periodically taking sips from your warm beverage. Finally putting the box away, you gave Law’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you for helping. You make it so much easier.”

Law’s eyes were soft when they met yours. “Of course, love. I know it’s a lot, and that it can be overwhelming, but I want to make sure you’re healthy.”

“I know you do,” you replied; “and I love you all the more for it.”

The doctor pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “How about these cinnamon rolls as a reward for a job well done?”

“That sounds delightful.” Keeping up with your litany of medications may be unpleasant, but you would do it a thousand times over if it meant you were well enough to stay by Law’s side.

✦•····························•✦•···························•✦

[on-a-lucky-tide]

cw: dubcon.

My brain is only offering sad Price thoughts right now, so I apologise. But omega Price who associates sex with negativity and repulsion because any alpha partner has expected it on demand, even when he's been injured, tired or sick. It's a relief when they let him get away with a hand job or head, so he can be swift and perfunctory, but that's not enough to ever keep them satisfied.

He'd dead fish it or try to go inside his head to focus on his todo list, but it was painful sometimes. This is how they show love, he'd tell himself as he bites into his pillow and squeezes his eyes shut. This is a need for them, this is their intimacy, he should try and see it from their perspective.

"Duty sex" is his norm, and now he sees it as a chore to tick off at best, or with all the dread of a tooth extraction conducted by Edward Scissorhands at worst. It inevitably led to him losing feelings for the person each time, and after one particular break up got messy, Price swore off ever dating again.

That's why the Nikolai situation is so frustrating for him. He knows he likes Nik in ways beyond "close friend", daydreams about falling asleep on his big chest and purring, but he doesn't want to lose Nik. Doesn't want those feelings to disappear when Nik demands that John fulfill his needs. After all, it's his duty as an omega and sex is how alphas show and feel loved...

[the-s1lly-corner]

Yatta x female pinata reader but way more calmer. Include maybe shrimpo tryed to hit the reader with a bat because..... Yk she's a pinata yatta DID NOT LIKE THAT...

Yatta x calm!pinata!reader

I love yatta she's so silly I might make her a new main when I get back into playing dandys

Notes: fem pinata toon reader, pre game, short and written on mobile, pre game but there is some Lil yummy bits of post in there at the end

CWs: none

You mellow her out! Sometimes she can be a bit... much... a bit overstimulating for others thanks to her being so energetic

It... probably helps that sugar doesn't make you go a little silly like it does for her...

Bonus-- if you don't have as much of a sweet tooth yatta will happily take any extra candy you may accumulate

She does give you some light hearted flack for not being able to handle your sugar... all said in good fun of course!

You both sit and patch each other up after a rougher day- maybe one of you was a little more active and rough or maybe SOMEONE tried to take a swing at one of you guys

...sometimes trying to do the paper and ribbons on yatta can be a nightmare... she struggles at staying still for long enough!

And when she's patching you up? She might add some extra colors or accessories...!

You guys dump the candies you've found between floors and trade... ooopoh she'll give you an extraction candy for your stamina candy!

[cricky-butspicy]

hey crickyyy 💕 :’) since i just got my wisdom teeth extracted (well, mostly, one was a coronectomy to avoid the risk of ✨permanent nerve damage✨) i wanted to ask about the slashers and creatures and mechanic au boys taking care of reader who has to have their wisdom teeth pulled or any similar minor surgery if that’s too specific (i am in so much pain send help)

Oh goodness, I am so sorry you are in so much pain, Critter 😭😭 Hopefully some things to imagine helps!

Atlas and Soleil are very good about staying with you and making sure you are ok. Soleil may get nervous in hospitals, and the dentist isn't much better, but he'll stay close just for you. They are there before the surgery, they wait during, and they are with you after. You get special Atlas care. He'll carry you out of the clinic in his arms and help you get settled in the car and makes sure he can get you home and in a good spot to rest.

Atlas is also a pro at getting you things that you crave or might want to eat that you can. He's good at finding things and getting them back quick for you. He almost kind of likes when you send him on missions to find very specific snacks because he feels extra proud when he comes back in with that grocery bag full of things he knows you like along with the prized craved or wanted item! (That unfortunately means he kind of pouts if he gets home after being unable to find it anywhere nearby for you. RIP poor guy.)

Pray you don't get loopy on the medicine afterwards because Atlas will film you and he will enjoy every second of your loopiness, even if it doesn't play out exactly well for him. Though, a lot of your care goes to Atlas for this type of thing. Soleil can handle other types of injuries, but something about bloody gauze being kept in your mouth and the possibility of just spitting up blood or grossness at him as he helps you has him kind of keeping away from your face and spitting range. He's going to make you sleep facing Atlas for the recovery time with a towel under your head to keep himself and the bed protected. (Atlas is on his own 😔)

They are good at following instructions given and helping you follow them too. Aftercare to the max with them. It's nice to be doted on <3

CW for grossness with the creatures ahead. They get a little nasty. I apologize in advance.

If you come to them after wisdom tooth removal, and you have blood and injury inside your mouth still, you get to deal with those suckers making you rinse your mouth with water from their blessed spring before sticking their own tongues in your mouth to clean the injury themselves and help it heal with a little bit of their magic that they have up their sleeves (Or well, in their tails.) It's rough. I'm sorry, especially if it's Moon. It's good if it's him because he has way more power than Sun with having two magic sources on his body, so it heals faster and easier, but it sucks because he's trying to put his whole tongue in your mouth and is nearly suffocating you doing it while Sun would have been a little more tame and gentle with his cleaning and healing, but very thorough. They both tell you not to spit. The healing is going to come from their spit in your mouth, so deal with it I guess 😭 (If it makes you feel any better, they would use their tongue and spit on any injury to heal it because it's easiest to transfer magic that way, it just kind of sucks when it's in your mouth and you have to choke like it's a middle schooler sticking their tongue down your throat the first time they try to French kiss you.) (Just wait until you hear how they help you see their paths to their home 😬 That magic is gross and not that fun either.)

They question what did that to you. They have no clue what would attack the inside of your mouth and take your teeth. (You probably can't talk right so that's a problem with communicating with them.) Moon is having you rest to let the magic set better in. He's probably opening your mouth and checking the stages quite often to see if he needs to retry or not, but he does ask if you just would like to sleep until he can get it to heal with using his pollen to knock you out. It's a kind offer, and one I would take if I were you myself. They can probably get it to fully heal in about a dawn to dusk amount of time. When you tell them what happened and all of the details, they look concerned and then tell you not to let people take your bones and that if you are letting anyone have your bones after they have been removed, you should have given the bones to them. They would have cherished them far more.

Regular Mechanic reader boys do their best! Sun is on his best nurse behavior and is making you sit back, relax, and heal! You're his patient now, and he's going to take care of you! Don't worry about a thing. Just worry on letting your body do it's thing, because he will take care of everything up and beyond needed. He can't have you worried or feeling the need to do anything while you recover, so just expect him to be zooming around while also taking lots of long breaks to check on you and take care of you. Nothing is gross to him with this. He can handle gauze changing or needing to swish stuff in your mouth and spit it back out and really anything! He'll do anything for you!

Moon basically just sits and watches you very carefully and if something doesn't feel right, he asks you and sees what he can do. He was never as good at playing nurse as Sun, so if he needs to, he'll tap out and let Sun come out and take it over, but he will try his best to help in ways he can, but keeping you comfortable and resting is his specialty, so he can at least do that quite well for you and make sure you take any medicines regularly and on time.

One thing is common among the 6. They all give you healing kisses. Mechanic Sun and Moon are unafraid to give you a kiss right on the lips. Doesn't matter to them at all. The creatures still don't really know how to give kisses that well, so accept getting groomed on your head from Creature Sun and affectionate nuzzles and licks from Creature Moon. Soleil is literally staying so far away from your mouth, the closest he gets is the top of your head. Atlas at least kisses you on your temple.

They all care a lot and want to help you rest up and heal. How they do it differs, but they all show the want to do their bests for you. It's nice in their own ways.

[genericpuff]

i'm back from the dentist

the dentist's name was patrick

he was very nice

CW: BLOODY EXTRACTED TEETH AHEAD!!!! SERIOUSLY DON'T CLICK THE JUMP IF YOU DON'T WANNA SEE MY GROSS MOUTH BONES. I MADE THE CW TEXT AS BIG AS POSSIBLE SO THAT HOPEFULLY IT DOESN'T RUIN ANYONE'S DAY LMAO

and so begins the pudding diet

wanna know the crazy thing ??

the wisdom tooth is the two little broken pieces. that was legit all that was left of it. i did not feel a single moment of its removal, it took like 10 seconds.

the REAL challenge wound up being that huge bloody bastard up top. it was the neighboring molar that my wisdom teeth decided to take down with them, a chunk of it broke off the surface about three weeks ago, initially it seemed fine (just had a sharp edge) but then it inevitably started to keep me up at night with severe pain within the last week. i recently spent a couple days with what was basically lockjaw and i can only assume that this sucker was to blame.

the extraction for that one really sucked, because it took what felt like an agonizing 5 minutes (even though it was only more like 30 seconds) and in that time, i could feel it popping and cracking from out of my jaw 💀😭 wasn't necessarily "painful" but anyone with sensory and auditory processing disorders can hopefully understand that it's still a unique kind of pain that freezing and gas and numbing can't combat.

it sucked, but i survived. i'm on antibiotics for the next week and now my biggest challenge is just getting through the recovery process as swiftly as possible ╭( ･ㅂ･)و

(and yes, if it wasn't evident enough in the photo, they let me keep the teeth! yayayay!)

big thanks to everyone who sent me so many encouraging messages and personal stories of their own experiences, y'all helped a mountain feel more like a mole hill ♡( ◡‿◡ )

[what-yadoking-likes]

[Final Part! - Link to Part 7 here]

The days went by and Wolf began feeling much better. He ate all the soft foods Hoxton prepared for him, allowing his partner to dote on him a little, knowing Hoxton liked to be of practical use, knowing how helpless he'd felt before.

They spent their time catching up on missed sleep, watching TV shows and movies in bed, and cuddling - there was a lot of cuddling. Though their line of work was dangerous and there were times when things were way too close for everyone's comfort - typically whenever SWAT turrets got mounted onto helicopters - it was the risk of sepsis that had sent Hoxton into a tailspin, constantly feeling the need to check Wolf over for signs of sickness or injury.

Time passed and Wolf adjusted to the lack of a tooth in the back of his mouth. The stitches dissolved, the infection cleared and the pain was but a memory.

There was one idle Friday night where the two of them were under the blankets, watching something on Netflix. Alcohol and cigarettes and bare chests.

Hoxton couldn't help but stare at Wolf's profile in the dim light of their shared room. The sharp blue eyes that pierced and told stories of innumerable emotions with a single look. The neatly trimmed beard that shaped his face, highlighting his cheekbones and -

"Take a picture, it lasts longer," Wolf joked, not taking his eyes off the laptop screen. He was smiling softly, visible in the soft glow of whatever show it was they were watching.

Hoxton started, reaching over to smack at the keyboard to pause the show.

"You put me down as your next of kin. In the hospital that day," he said, with no preamble.

Wolf stirred, slowly turning to face Hoxton more directly.

"Yeah, I... yeah. I didn't know who else to put down, really." Wolf traced random shapes on the back of Hoxton's hand, brushing over scars and skin and bones that jutted out. "Got no family over here."

Hoxton watched Wolf stroking those patterns into his hand and felt a tug in his chest. He shifted, moving his hand to sit atop Wolf's, and squeezed.

"It's alright. I'd put you down as my next of kin, too."

Wolf looked up at him, a pleased look on his face. It wasn't hard to tell that the information touched him. A moment later and he was inching forwards to bury himself in Hoxton's chest, lips brushing his collarbone in a sign of affection.

Hoxton rolled his eyes, but not out of any genuine feeling of annoyance or embarrassment - it was simply his default reaction when he behaved as if Wolf's affectionate touches were in any way a burden or unwanted. He wrapped his arms around the other man, dragging them down to lie on the bed more fully - being mindful of the laptop propped up at the foot of the bed.

"It crossed me mind," Hoxton continued, words slightly muffled as he pressed kisses to the crown of Wolf's head, "that maybe... they wouldn't let me go in with you. Or talk to the doctors with you. We don't... have the same name."

Wolf stayed silent, but his nuzzling of Hoxton's chest stilled.

It took so long for Wolf to respond that Hoxton had begun wondering if his partner had fallen asleep.

"It crossed my mind, too." Wolf slipped his arms around Hoxton in return, giving the Brit a firm squeeze. "It... scared me."

Though it was a simple statement of truth, Hoxton exhaled a long breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. It seemed dumb to care so much, to be bothered by this when every other week one of them got shot or grazed by a bullet. And yet both of them were thinking and feeling the exact same thing, fearing a forced separation at a time of vulnerability.

Neither of them said any more about it. Hoxton resumed pressing kisses to Wolf's scalp, enjoying the firm brush of stubble against his lips and chin. "Mmm. Something to think about, I s'pose."

He felt Wolf's lips curve into a smile against him. "Could be..."

They left it at that. They weren't especially good at talking openly about big, important decisions that probably should be discussed at a time when neither alcohol nor drugs were involved. It worked for them in a way it shouldn't, because they were both so deep into their shared outlaw life with each other. If they could dig bullets out from each other, they could talk about serious matters like their shared futures, surely?

Pushing that thought aside, Hoxton took Wolf's face in his hands and directed him into a kiss. The kiss was soft, mostly brushing of lips against each other, expressing the tenderness neither of them were good at saying but knew intuitively. It said, I am here. I am with you. I'm not going anywhere.

They eventually slept like that, Hoxton detaching himself temporarily to put the laptop on he floor. When he returned he went back into Wolf's arms, and they fell asleep wrapped up like that, faint smiles still there even as they dreamt.

Yado actually finishing something? What's wrong with me?

...

So this was largely inspired by recent events. My partner collapsed at an emergency dentist's appointment back in early June, and I got a call 10 minutes before my day of classes was due to begin to take him to A&E to get him checked for sepsis. FORTUNATELY, he was safe, there was no sepsis, his ECG was fine, etc etc.

He put me down as his next of kin, too.

Luckily we are in a straight-passing relationship and I was able to be taken seriously as his advocate and partner of some 13 years.

The ending to this was made up for the purpose of rounding everything up nicely in a neat little package. But my partner was able to get the tooth next to his impacted wisdom tooth extracted - it was heavily damaged due to the impacted tooth pushing against it for several years, and due to the complicated nerve wrapped around the root of his wisdom tooth they were reticent to risk removing it. Several weeks on and he is doing fine, and the impacted wisdom tooth has more space to breathe.

For a few moments I had this utter fear in me that he was terribly sick and going to die. That drive to the dentists - it should have taken me around 10-15 minutes. I did it in much less. I got us to the hospital, walked with him, sat with him, advocated for him. Got his prescription for him, set alarms on my phone to track when he ought to take them. Made him soft but nutritious foods. Went food shopping by myself - a chore I notoriously despise more than any other on the planet - so he had time to rest.

Anyway. He's fine. I'm fine. We're fine. And Wolf and Hox are fine, too - probably.

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Chapter 2: Phineas Kills Some Bandits

1292 words

CW: institutionalized slavery, religious themes, gun violence, knife violence, murder, noncon kiss

Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Exodus 21:24

Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.

~~~

“If you were going to steal me anyway, why not do it outright?”

The sun was rising, filtering through the dense trees and a smattering of clouds, and with it came the Iowan’s confidence. Phineas and Leannan had been walking for about half an hour before Leannan started asking questions.

“You could have shot the merchant as soon as you saw me, couldn’t you?”

Finally losing patience, Phineas stopped and turned to look at Leannan.

“I don’t have to explain shit to you.”

Leannan shook his head, looking suitably cowed.

“Of course not, Phineas. I’m sorry, Phineas.”

Phineas narrowed their eyes, considering.

“Iowans are sworn to secrecy, right?”

Leannan nodded eagerly.

“It’s a sacred vow. We cannot share any secrets that anyone tells us.”

“What happens if you do?”

“God happens,” Leannan said simply, “He brings down divine retribution.”

Phineas turned their head away to roll their eyes. Unlike most people, they didn’t believe in God, and they were skeptical of the reasons behind the Great Fall, the executions, the burnings. But if it made the Iowan more obedient, they weren’t about to disparage his faith. They’d play along.

“Aright,” Phineas rolled their shoulders, “I didn’t shoot her with my gun because I carry a bigass gun everywhere. Too obvious. I left someone else’s calling card. Someone who deserves some trouble.”

“Why carry a gun if you can never use it?”

“Did I say that? I don’t think I fuckin’ said that.”

“Yes, Phineas, sorry, Phineas.”

“Shut up and walk.” Phineas picked up the pace again, and Leannan was left with no choice but to follow.

~~~

Phineas halted when they reached the edge of an ancient superhighway. It stretched out, wide and cracked, scattered with weeds and small, struggling trees. To their right it extended southward, and but to the left it was interrupted by a hulking mass spanning its width.

“What’s that?” Leannan breathed, with genuine curiosity.

“The Dead Blockade,” Phineas explained, “It was a border, a long time ago.”

Once just a building accompanied by covered lanes, the checkpoint had been added on to over the years – reinforcements of sheet metal, tanks, spiked barriers and cinderblock walls. It was all being eaten away by the elements now, and looked grainy and ragged, overgrown with kudzu.

“It’s no man’s land now,” Phineas continued, “It doesn’t guard anything – but sometimes bandits camp it out and try to extract a toll.”

Phineas took off their rifle and backpack, crouching down and unfolding the gun’s bipod legs. They set it down aimed towards the blockade, getting down on their stomach and putting their eye to the little telescope that rode atop the weapon.

Silence stretched, and Leannan shifted nervously from foot to foot. Then Phineas finally spoke.

“Jes, I see the fuckers,” they said, “Get down and cover your ears.” They retrieved a pair of protective headphones from their backpack and put them on.

Leannan hunkered down, pressing his hands over his ears. He had never seen a gun in action before, much less one being prepared to shoot. He watched as Phineas performed near-ritualistic actions, sliding levers and attaching pieces from the side pockets of their backpack before finally settling again onto their stomach, their eye to the sights.

For much longer than Leannan was comfortable with, nothing happened. Phineas barely moved a muscle.

When the gun did go off, even with his ears covered, it was one of the loudest things Leannan had ever heard. It sent a shock down to his core, and he couldn’t help but tremble. Phineas, on the other hand, remained as cool as a cucumber; they moved a lever up, back, then forward and down; a moment later, they fired again.

Phineas fired four shots total, each one making Leannan nearly jump out of his skin. After the fourth shot Phineas sat still for a long time, each second that ticked by making Leannan’s anticipation of the next shot worse. But a fifth shot never came, and eventually Phineas sat up from the ground and began performing their weapon’s ritual in reverse.

“You got them all?” Leannan asked as soon as Phineas took their headphones off.

“As far as I can tell,” Phineas replied, hoisting their backpack and rifle onto their shoulders, “Still need to be careful.”

The two of them approached the Dead Blockade, eyes darting to every shadow, every vine that rustled in the wind.

“Stay close to me,” Phineas ordered, drawing a large knife from their belt as they moved into a narrow passage through the barrier. Phineas emerged from the other side and walked a few steps, detecting nothing.

“I think…”

“Drop your weapons!” someone screeched. Leannan cried out.

Phineas spun to see a scruffy bandit standing behind Leannan, one hand gripping the Iowan’s curls and the other holding a knifepoint to the side of his throat. Leannan was a picture of terror, his raised hands trembling and his throat bobbing.

Phineas sighed. If it were them, if they’d been alone, they would have twisted out of the bandit’s grasp and dispatched them already. But now they had this… thing tagging along, making everything complicated. It had better be worth the payout.

“What do you want, bandito?”

“You killed my friends!” the bandit shouted, swinging the knife out briefly to point at Phineas, scraping Leannan’s neck in the process, “Monster!”

“Jes, jes, what do you want?” Phineas asked impatiently.

“I want – I want…” The bandit’s eyes darted around wildly before settling on the bead of blood building on Leannan’s neck. “The fuck?”

It was not the expected bright crimson, but instead a dark maroon. The bandit pulled Leannan’s head down to the side to expose the injury better.

“Phineas…” Leannan whimpered.

“Holy shit,” the bandit breathed, “You’re one of those magic whores. Holy shit!” His eyes snapped back up to Phineas. “You just start walking! Start walking, and keep walking! Holy shit…” Unable to resist, he turned his attention back to Leannan, licking a long line up the side of the Iowan’s bloody neck.

Phineas threw their knife.

Leannan let out a short scream as the knife thunked into the eye socket of the bandit. The bandit’s own knife dropped to the ground as he released it and Leannan’s hair, his hands groping his face as he stumbled backwards one, two steps before collapsing onto the cracked pavement.

Leannan spun to watch, pressing one hand to his mouth and crossing himself with the other. Once the bandit was still, he turned on Phineas.

“You could have hit me, asshole!”

Phineas smirked.

“But I didn’t, did I.”

Leannan sputtered as Phineas walked over and pulled their knife out of the bandit’s head, wiping the blade on the corpse’s shirt.

“I bet these guys have sleeping bags you can take,” they said, “Let’s find their camp.”

“I don’t want someone else’s dirty old sleeping bag!” Leannan raised his voice, finally snapping, “I’m not made to live like this! I’m not made to rough it in the wilderness! You need to sell me to someone with an actual goddamn house!”

“Oh, believe me, that’s the plan.” Phineas moved in close to Leannan, catching his jaw before he could move away. They lifted his chin, inspecting the scrape.

“You should clean that. Who knows where that guy’s been.”

“I’m immune to most diseases and infections, remember?” Leannan grumbled.

“Handy, that.” Phineas’ grip became bruisingly tight, and they leaned in and kissed Leannan on the mouth. Leannan made a small noise, but didn’t push them away. When Phineas released him and stepped back, he stared at them questioningly.

“I like you better when you’re feisty,” Phineas explained, “And what can I say?” they sheathed their knife and spread their hands wide with a crooked smile, “Killing people turns me on.”

~~~

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[pixelizedprince]

Irl dental ranting under the cut

cw tw for like body, tooth, dentist stuff

So I finally got into the dentist yesterday for my loose crown and the whole thing was rotten and slightly infected underneath she literally just took a paper towel and pulled out over half the tooth with the crown

And I have to find somewhere else to finish the extraction? It is March 19th and everywhere around me is booked until late September what the fuck do I do with that?!

A friend looked up and found a community health center that might be able to help but im so discouraged by the whole thing I want to curl up into a ball and cry

I never wanted this crown I was told I was too young to have a tooth extracted when I had the original root canal even though I never wanted all this I just wanted it fucking gone and now the ultimate solution after years of hating it is to find a specialist to extract it

Not only is it sore and recovering from infection and the meds are making me exhausted I have a BURNING anger of I told you so and I know my fucking body why did no one listen to me

This was my first time using work insurance so let's just hope things will work out bc the cost of everything alone makes me spiral (thanks to past trauma with originally getting the crown funny enough)

[citrusazalea]

Lovely Update 🦷🦷

⚠️Cw: tooth/ Dentist talk

It has officially been a week since I have gotten a palatal expander it was probably one of the worst weeks of my life. Not only was I drained from it being finals week and being so embarrassed talking with a lisp in front of my classmates, but I was so drained from not being able to eat since my molars hurt so bad to chew on food!! And I wasn’t prepared for that! I had been playing video games ever since school let out to distract the discomfort in my teeth and get my mind off everything.

However, today I successfully ate chicken nuggies with no pain on my left side!! I am doing so much better. I thought I would never get used to this thing being in my mouth but I am finally over the worst parts. And this process will in the long run prevent extra teeth from needing to be extracted. So I’m pushing through!!

I hope to start drawing again and getting back into my groove. I am Geneson starved 🥴 thanks to all the artists who continue to bless me with their regular show art 🙏