patch you up

[triarchic]

 Patch You Upshipping meme

Let's hope you're not squeamish. Even if you are, you're going to have to power through it, because your crush, significant other, lover, or fellow practitioner in romantic tension has been battered and bruised. The degree of severity, from a minor scrape to a life-threatening injury, can vary, as can the reason - they may even be hurt because of you. If that's the case, you have all the more reason to tend to their wounds with your own two hands.

No one can take care of them like you can.

Bust out the bandages, even if they don't want you to worry over them or can't believe that anyone would. Though it's not your intention, if you're genre savvy, you may know that your best Florence Nightingale may be the final push if you're not together-together.

That's assuming if you both don't pass out from botched first aide before any of that happens. Don't forget that a kiss to make it better is critical!

• Comment with your character, preferences, and the role you'd like to play - the injured or the attending. Also, would you like a pre-established relationship? One just on the cusp of becoming realized? Etc?
• Reply to others.
• Thread.

Comments

[triarchic]

[ He doesn't relax, even if his gaze remains cool, leveled at her. In fact, because she looks so smug, he decides to run his eyes over her body, almost pointedly. Up and down, resting for too long on the more provocative places before he bothers to answer her. ]

Does that make you uncomfortable? [ And then, as an aside: ] The shirt looks nice, by the way. Maybe you should hold onto it.

[tougher]

[He gets his glances without repercussion for once, no doubt due to the fact that she's practically swimming in his shirt on top of the alcohol doing its job. The compliment gets her to glance down at herself briefly, but her eyes blink upward after only a second of observation like some programmed defense mechanism.

She adjusts her hat with one hand, and peels back a bang with the same hand once its in place.]

Uh, its like sixteen sizes too big. It looks like a tent.

[triarchic]

[ Alright, so it's hardly a functional thing to wear day-to-day. There's a very slow grin, though, even despite her dismissal of the article of clothing. ]

Not form-fitting enough for you, is it? Think of it as comfortable sleepwear.

[tougher]

[She raises an eyebrow like she means to counter his argument, but looks instead to glance down at herself one more time.]

Yeah, alright, I can give you that.

[Fiona reaches for her hat again, taking it off briefly to consider the sleepwear get-up--

But it lasts for about three seconds before she pulls it back over her head. She's too attached, even if the baggy shirt wrecks her look.]

I'm sure you have sixty more anyway.

[triarchic]

Is that an admission that you're going to hold onto it, then?

[ He reaches for the glass he had set down, finishing its contents before he stands. The moment's been broken and so he lets off on the pressure, going back to how casual he was earlier, muscles relaxing just a bit. ]

[tougher]

[She watches him suspiciously and pulls her knees a bit closer when he stands. Her shoulders relax, and she opts for silence in regards to his question. He'd complimented her when there was nothing to compliment, she knows how the game is supposed to work.

But he's walked away. That's not how its supposed to work. Was it the splint? Did he feel sorry for her all of a sudden?

With the alcohol traveling through her bloodstream, she gets stuck in her thought loop and forgets to answer him at all. Her focus stays between the front of the shirt and the edge of the splint he's fashioned.]

It's not as fun when you just give things to me.

[--wait, that's not what she had wanted to say at all.]

I mean--yeah. I guess I will.

[triarchic]

[ He's silent for a long moment, considering her with just the barest hint of a smile. Christ, alcohol can really do things, can't it? She's certainly an easier one to pick off after a few drinks, but does he want to pick her off right now, is the question? Keeping allies in a place like this seems slightly more important than reckless fucking. Though, of course, the two aren't mutually exclusive. ]

Try not to sound so fucking forlorn and think of it as a one-time thing. It won't happen again.

[tougher]

Right. Yeah.

[Gosh, she's starting to get dizzy. Though she can't remember exactly what she just said, some part of her is obviously slightly mortified by it. So Fiona pauses and gets herself to stand without falling and immediately heads for the door.]

Well I'm just--going to go then. Won't happen again.

[The last part is said in a scolding tone, like it had been her point to make in the first place, before she swings herself out of the room via the doorframe. She'll make it back eventually.]