#all comfort

[mslanna]

Raphael reacting to waking up to his little mouse tending to his injuries?

(also on AO3) enby Tav without body configuration. comfort, wound tending, too soft for sanity

Hurt. Hope. His.

The last thing Raphael remembered was launching himself at his father as Mephistopheles held Tav between his fingers about to squeeze them in half. The red haze that descended over the cambion blurred everything afterwards.

Pain, he remembered. Shouts. Screams. The smell and taste of blood. And then –

Nothing

Pain remained. In the quiet darkness surrounding him, the pain was still there. But so was a gentle warmth and movements over his skin. Broken? Burning? Something moist touched the side of his face. When he tried to jerk away, pain flared up through his whole body, rendering the attempt futile.

"Ah, look who's coming to!" Haarlep's voice, shrill in the silence and cutting into his skin. "I knew it wouldn't be long once we got to the healing pool."

"Shoo." The sound was soft, gentle and lenient towards the incubus in a way Raphael would not have permitted. But it seemed to work. The ground under him – mattress? – moved and steps receded.

"They were jittery ever since you went down." More soft words falling down on him. Nice. Warm. Safe. Tav?

Raphael tried to pry open his eyes. It hurt. It didn't matter. He had to make certain –

A cool hand settled over his eyes.

"Not yet." There was a decided pause after the last word, as if he had missed a word. "Soon. Let me finish with your face first."

He relaxed. Tav. It had to be. Small hands, deft. Sure. And so gentle on his broken skin. It still hurt. But in a reassuring way. Raphael let them work. The rhythm was soothing, a gentle motion in the ocean of pain that rocked him. He must have dozed off.

A sweet dream piercing through the pain of small hands on his face and soft lips breathing a kiss over his. Raphael tried to reach and hold on but the pain the movement caused woke him. At least he was now able to open his eyes.

Tav knelt at his side. Alive. Whole. Not snapped in half by his father's hand. The relief flooding his system overrode all pain. Raphael reached for their face, and though his hand hung in tatters, Tav didn't flinch back. They accepted the bloody touch, cradled his broken hand and placed it back at his side. Raphael could not look away from the dark red smears on their cheek.

"You need rest." Tav's lips moved but the words reached him only much later. Raphael blinked, aware again of the pains covering his body. "Drink. And sleep."

Tav raised a carafe to his lips. Then she shook their head, amused about something Raphael did not understand. The water disappeared from sigh but that was alright. Tav moved to lay his head in their lap. The repositioning hurt, but it was worth it.

Soft eyes looked down on him. Warm. Safe. His? He tried to reach out again, but Tav wouldn't have it. "Be still," they murmured. "You need to heal. Please."

They looked away at the last word and for the first time, Raphael wondered how badly he was injured. His jaw worked and Tav's fingers alighted on it.

"Please."

Tav reached beside them an raised the carafe again. This time they placed it against his lips and unthinking, Raphael drank. Warm. Cool. Hurt. His? He swallowed the water and pain in one. It earned him a smile. He drank more. Each sip making its way into his stomach felt like pearls of ice and fire.

It probably looked very bad if even this sent his body into a painful healing frenzy.

Tav pushed a strand of his hair back behind his ear. No pain. Good. Welcome. More. He mumbled and water spilled down his throat. Tav shook their head, but not angrily. They put the carafe away and produce a wet cloth with which they carefully wiped down his throat.

Raphael felt his skin prick, move and mend. A short check on his extremities proved that most of them were broken and open in some way. Bandaged badly. Preliminary. Behind Tav's head, he saw the ceiling of the boudoir. Home. Good. Safe. He looked back at Tav who had cleaned out the cloth and worked slowly over his right shoulder.

"You relax now," they said gently. "Leave it to me."

He wanted to, he really did. But a part of his mind wondered where Haarlep had gone and when they'd return and what would happen then. His eyes wandered but didn't get far without turning his head. And the mere attempt hurt.

Cool fingers stroked the side of his neck. "None of that now," Tav murmured. "I promise everything will be well. Just let me work."

Another of those empty pauses reserved for a word that never came. Raphael closed his eyes and let his mind chase the shape of that emptiness. A vain pursuit as the gentle touch of warm water on his chest dragged his thoughts away from anything else. Tav's hands followed the water, caressing healing tissue.

Raphael felt the arms of sleep reach for him and soon they would drag him down into their dark embrace. He fought it. With one thought cropping up in his dazed mind whenever he was about to go under. One thing. Important. Now.

He stirred and once again; gentle hands stilled him.

"I will be here when you wake." A soft smile. Hope.

"Mine?" The word croaked from his lips and splintered.

Tav ran a hand through his hair. Then they placed their cool fingers over his lips again. "Yours."

It was barely a whisper. It was enough.

[wiirocku]

2 Corinthians 1:3 (NLT) - All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort.

[sunshiline-writes]

Rainbringer #5: Warm Tea and Blankets

Some comfort for poor Whumpee Kyler.

CW: mention of past torture, knife mention, fire mention

tooth rooting fluff Previous | Masterlist | Next

Kyler shivered under the covers, eyes closed, he could still feel the knife in his back. Carving into skin. Blood flowing down. He could still hear the blood dripping on the ground. Claire’s fingers ghosting over his skin. Pulling the blankets closer around him, he shivered again. He’d taken a shower when he got home, scrubbing himself raw. Until the blood was gone and his skin was red from rubbing so hard. 

He’d been curled here for about an hour now, unable to move. The flashes of what happened to him are still cornering him in his own mind. Kyler didn’t cry though, his eyes were dry. Perhaps he’d cried all of them during the session with Claire. There was a bright side however, she gave him the rest of the week to recover. It was Thursday and he had until Monday to gather himself. Put himself back together slowly. Putting himself back together was something he was good at. He’d been doing it for the past twenty or so years. Ever since the fire. There was something about it that seemed to not only burn him, but burn something inside him too. Kyler was so caught up in his own mind he didn’t notice Irvington walk in the room. 

“Oh Ky, I’m glad you’re home. It started to rain as I walked back from the market,” they said, euphoria lining their voice, “can you believe that I can say that? I walked home in the rain!” Irvington let out a giggle. Like a child. Kyler just shivered harder, knowing that rain was made through blood. His blood. His blood. His screams. 

“Ky?” Their voice was filled with worry now, “Ky, are you okay?” 

He lifted his head from the blanket, frowning at Irvington. Hair sopping wet, expression concerned, shirt off. “Yeah..” He whispered, “I think I caught a cold or something.” He faked a sniffle. Irvington’s frown deepened, “I’ll get some tea and I’ll get you more blankets.” “No no, I don’t-“ 

Irvington had already put on a dry shirt and grabbed their cane and walked out of the room. Kyler sighed softly. He didn’t deserve them. Turning so he was on his back he stared at the ceiling, he didn’t want to close his eyes. Everytime he closed them he saw Claire and he saw the knife. He waited for a moment before deciding that it was okay to sit up again. There was still phantom pains, phantom soreness. He shouldn’t feel like this, but this was a tiredness that was deep in his bones. Kyler felt like he ran a marathon. His body shivered so violently, he decided it was best to lay down again. 

As he did so, Irvington came in again, warm tea in one hand, a blanket draped over their shoulder. “I made chamomile again, added some mint, and some honey. It should help,” they said. Going to the side of the bed, and handing him the tea. Then they sat down, taking the blanket from their shoulder and laid it on top of Kyler. “You were feeling fine this morning,” they said, frowning again. 

“You’re going to have permanent frown lines if you keep frowning like that my love,” Kyler mused, sipping his tea with a weak smile.

Irvington scoffed, crooked grin coming back on their face. Yes, that was the smile Kyler loved so much. “You better stop giving me reasons to frown then, you’ve been so tired lately after prayers.” 

Kyler sighed softly, “I was thinking.. I would just do my prayers here this weekend.” 

Irvingtons smile went wider and they rubbed their hands together excitedly. They were so excited, the cane that was leaning on the bed, knocked over with a crash. Both of them giggled. 

“Does this mean.. I can spoil you?” Irvington asked. 

“No-” 

“Breakfast in bed,” 

“Irv” 

“Reading to you,” 

Kyler couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from him, “No!” 

“Maybe i’ll even play the violin for you.” 

“You’re ridiculous you know that?” 

“I know. It’s only for you. May I?” Irvington asked, his hand hovering over the covers. 

“Dry your hair first! Then you can come in. You’re sopping wet.” 

Both of them laughed and Irvington picked up their cane, walking to the bathroom. Kyler placed his tea on the bedstand. He pulled the covers to his chin, relishing in the warmth. Relishing in the temporary peace that came with the thought that he wouldn’t have to get up and see Claire tomorrow. Yes, he could live with that. For a few days of peace. He could live with the pain. As long as Irvington kept being here to welcome home, with warm tea and warm blankets. 

TAGLIST: @devourerofcheesecake @for-the-love-of-angst @whumpinthepot as always! ask to be added or removed!

[cat-in-a-mech-suit]

Being forcefully raised as a woman is not any less traumatic and emotionally repressive as being forcefully raised as a man. Femininity is not inherently pure and safe. Coercing someone to perform femininity is not any less toxic than coerced masculinity. Being dysphoric around femininity or having trauma from women doesn’t make you a misogynist.

[dirt-goth]

As much as I want to be a wholly joyous about the fact that Henry Kissinger is finally fucking dead, as he deserves... There's a lot of me that can't help being upset with. With the fact that he lived to 100 years old. He got better medical care, better housing, and a better, more stable life for those 100 years than billions on this planet ever going to see and he did it specifically through exploitation, state sanctioned murder, and lies. He lived to 100 years comfortably on a legacy of violence that rarely threatened his personal comfort. I want to be joyous that he's finally dead, because the world IS better with him dead, but the reality is he won a long time ago.

[stargirl230]

thanks for the light

I was just trying to figure out how procreate works but then the op brainworms got to me and 35 hours later here we are! can you tell I miss home-cooked meals :')

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

[portalmonsterrr]

Memento Vivere

Some additional notes:

[oars]

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Cassidy is nervous to meet Abby,,

[feralforbeanix]

He loved her immediately I'm gonna cry

[atissi]

kras mazov lookin ass

[glorious-spoon]

i know we all laugh (mostly fondly) about the paper-thin plots in porn that only exist to make the sex happen, but i was reading some old stargate fic over the weekend, and i really think we're sleeping on the paper-thin hurt/comfort plot that only exists to force the characters to FEEL THINGS.

like, is this scenario realistic? no. does it make any rational sense? no. does it provide a built-in excuse for a character to collapse, bloody and disoriented, into the arms of his beloved/friend/partner? obviously, that's the whole point of this exercise.

i love it. it's my favorite thing in the world.

[the-phantom-peach]

“for her”

-🍃

the burden of failure and fear of disappointment. sometimes ya just gotta keep it to yourself

[nipuni]

Rose and Tentoo 🥰

a step by step process of this will be available at my Patreon on april 1st

[ryssbelle]

Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!

Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎

[fanaticalthings]

Most children, once they've grown up and moved out, sometimes come back to visit their parents to use their house as a sort of personal grocery store

And with Bruce being a literal billionaire whose house is always stocked with food and supplies, the batkids (that aren't living in the manor) definitely visit just for the purpose of taking shit for themselves.

---

For Dick, it's just small things, food and maybe some utensils. Bruce is barely in the kitchen so he never notices dishes go missing, and there are like 10 other children in his house so literally any one of the younger kids could've stolen food in the middle of the night, so he doesn't bat an eye at all.

Babs probably steals Bruce's hardware or his tools from the batcave. Sometimes, if she's nice, she'll leave a note.

Steph probably takes shit that no one will notice at the time but will absolutely be annoyed about when they need said thing. Stapler, soap bars, the microwave plate, etc...(Taking after Jason, she steals the hub caps off the batmobile's tires)

However, for Jason, once his relationship with Bruce is somewhat decent, of course he's gonna be petty and start stealing the more expensive shit in the manor for his apartment. Jason's microwave is broken? The next day, the cave's self-made and enhanced microwave made by Bruce for convenience is just gone.

Jason's feeling a coffee maker for his place? The one in Bruce's study disappears, too.

---

At first, Bruce thinks he's just sleep deprived, but then much bigger things start to go missing, like the whole TV and couch set in the living room. He assumes the younger kids are just playing pranks on him (sounds like something Stephanie would do) but then Bruce notices that the thief deliberately avoids stealing things from the kitchen, which is where Alfred is most of the time, and suddenly Bruce has an irritated clue on who the culprit is.

At first, he doesn't say anything, until one day he comes back, tired from a patrol, and is about to log in all the info on the computer only to realize his batchair is gone. That's when he texts Jason a blunt "If you really need things for your place, you can just ask me. I'll buy them for you." (As if Jason himself isn't loaded from his totally legal activities)

---

So now Jason's pettiness levels increase tenfold, and oh, wouldn't you look at it, his bike needs some new tires, and he knows a great place to get some more.

One night, Bruce is just blearily getting up for a late night snack, only to see Damian scamper away with a...lamp? So Bruce immediately follows him into the foyer only to see ALL of his kids (sans the ones not living in the manor), trying to haul two arm chairs out the window, and they just stop dead silent to stare at him until someone whispers a nervous "Crap"

Bruce doesn't even have any energy to fight, he just pinches his nose and is all "What is the meaning of this" in his tired dad voice. And Duke meekly responds with "we wanted more chairs at Jason's place"

And suddenly it all makes sense. Not once did Bruce wonder how the HELL Jason managed to lug a whole 60in TV and a full couch set on his own in one night. Of course, he had accomplices. Bruce just turns right around and goes right the hell back to his room to sleep. He'll deal with this in the morning.