#excessive bandages will literally give everything away like do you know how annoying those are in real life

[sanstropfremir]

(About the Alice in borderland) So I'm not the only one who thought so! I had read the manga before the season 2 came out and when I saw this arc, I wondered how they would cover the guy up. Everytime I thought that surely, they won't really put him naked, that would be too hard to cover... well imagine my surprise when watching the episode. Btw are you enjoying the new season so far?

uh spoilers i guess since its only been out for like a day but i'm already finished?

i don't like it as much as the first season, tbh. i kinda zoned out in the middle and don't remember what happened, which makes me think there was something up with the pacing. but also maybe i don't think you're supposed to watch an entire season of television in one sitting and while you're making jam, so maybe it was a me issue. what i liked about the first season is that they were able to disguise the fact that it is based on a manga relatively well when adapting the visual design. there are some visual design conventions that are common in manga character design that when adapted to live action just do not make sense logistically, and so it can be really obvious when you're watching something that has been adapted. i don't usually have a problem with that kind of thing, bc it usually happens in places where you would expect there to be whack ass clothing, so the fact that it looks weird isn't going to break immersion (ie like the fma adaptions etc). but i found the second season had way more trouble due to just the absurdity of some of the characters, especially with the return niragi. normally i don't really give a shit about weird costuming, but his post burns look is just. well. i thought he looked like someone airdropped in an anime character in the first season and i think it even more for this season. idk, i don't really think that it's a problem per se, it just took me out of it enough to remind me that it's an adaptation of a different media form and i think i would have preferred them to have been more uniform in adapting the character designs across the board at the expense of one being less 'canon' accurate, as opposed to having one that stands out very strongly despite looking 'accurate'.

#excessive bandages will literally give everything away like do you know how annoying those are in real life #its really easy to make your designs look uniform when you are drawing everything #but its much harder to do so for real life when youre bound by physics and people's perceptions of like. how clothes work #idk the whole premise of the show is already crazy so like. is some unrealistically half burned guy really a problem? not really #there's sky death lasers #the other thing is that i watch like ZERO japanese tv so my familiarity with the visual conventions is really low #and most of the stuff i have seen is adaptations in the first place #so this might be a case of 'guy who just watched boss baby: getting a lot of boss baby vibes from this' #alice in borderland #non kpop questions #i did actually really like the ending though. which i did not expect #i was a bit iffy on it for the first 20ish minutes of the episode and then as it went i warmed up #text #answers #also you will LAUGH at how long it took me to realize the main characters are literally named alice and rabbit #my brain was turned OFF lksdfjsldkfjds #actually i zoned out in the beginning as well i tuned out of the king of clubs game bc it was just waaaay too long #i beat several grandmaster games of solitaire during that episode lsldfjsdljf

[eyeless-cunt]

scenario where yandere masky/Tim s/o accidentally broke some plates while putting them away (s/o was already kidnapped and is naturally apologetic) (yes I'm that one person asking for more submissive stuff maybe I have a Problem maybe I don't)

you do have a problem but that’s alright because i’m an enabler, darling. we really do just mix.

TW: kidnapping although that’s not mentioned, blood mention, pulling glass out of skin, crying, there’s not much ‘yandere’ stuff in here

You were just so bored. I mean, there’s literally nothing to do in this old shack, so doing what could be considered chores was really your only option—unless you counted staring at the ceiling as one. Of course, something so simple just had to turn out terribly wrong, thanks to your idiocracy. You and Masky only owned like four plates altogether, so it should have been easy and quick. Although because you are, an idiot, as you started to dry off the last one (this whole ordeal had only taken you a good five minutes so far—so it wasn’t much of a time waster like you had hoped it be) it slipped through your hands and hit the ground with a loud splintering crash.

The plate hit the ground so fast that it took a minute to process the few tiny glass pieces that were now embedded in your skin. The pain hit you so suddenly, making you suck in a large gulp of air, tears bubbling behind your eyelids. You felt like an idiot, a now crying idiot. It really did hurt, blood starting to slightly leak out of the shallow cuts. It was like an amplified paper cut. You thought about how you had broken one of the only plates you and Masky owned, and how much these stupid fucking cuts hurt. Then you thought about how absolutely stupid you were for not holding an obviously slippery plate well enough.

You stood there, no coherent thoughts or plans of action attempting to make a name for themselves. You were dumbfounded for a few more seconds, wondering what the hell you were supposed to do. ‘Should I clean this up first? Or fix these cuts? Fuck, this hurts...’

Of course, your partner(?) just had to come home at that moment, walking right in on you staring at your now excessively bleeding legs like a dumbass. Not your finest moment. He paused. You paused. He stared down at your red Leonardo da Vinci painted legs and you stared at his blank mask. Both of you went through the seven stages of buffering in about five seconds. Immediately though, as soon as the situation got through his thick mask and even thicker skull he was heading towards you, his movements a lot quicker than they’d usually be.

This, obviously, made you shift into gear as well, the sight of him steamrolling towards you after you’d broken a perfectly good plate coaxing an apology out of you hastily. Not because you were sure he was mad at you (although you figured that was on the table) but because you were genuinely sorry. I mean, what was he supposed to do? Break into someone’s house and steal a singular plate because his idiot s/o breaks everything they touch? Walk into a dollar store buying a single plate and just end up staring down the chashier? They’d probably call the cops on him as soon as they saw that sketchy mask walk into the store. And there’s no fucking way he’s letting you walk into some place.

You opened your mouth to apologize, but instead let out a sqeak as he lifted you just a few inches off the ground, practically dragging you into your bathroom. He lifted you up onto the sink, where you sat dumbfounded. You turned to look at him as he shuffled through a cupboard, looking for something with apparent difficulty. He pulled out a pair of tweezers, and you knew this was about to hurt. “...I didn’t even know we owned tweezers.” No response. He took off his mask—something he rarely did—and kneeled down, grabbing the back of your right leg and bringing it in close.

“Wa-wait,” you gasped out, the sight of the glass imbedded in your legs making you uneasy, “it’ll hurt. When you pull it out it’ll hurt.”

“...should I knock you out?” Figures that that’s how he would solve your fear.

“You’ll just end up giving me a concussion...I’m sorry for breaking the plate...it was an accident. I’m sorry.” He didn’t seem like he cared about that, and didn’t even attempt to respond to your apology. It didn’t deter you from continuing though, still feeling the guilt press down on you like a thick fog. “I know we only have a few—and I made such a mess too. I promise I’ll clean it up. I’m sorry.”

“...’s jus’ a plate. ‘m cleanin’ it.” He slowly pulled out a smaller piece from your skin, making you gasp in pain as a response.

“It hurts. It real-really hurts.” He spared you a single glance, getting up to wet a washcloth. He pressed the wet and slightly steaming washcloth to your leg, wiping off already dried and new (some had spurted out when he pulled out some glass) blood. You flinched when he made contact, his hands were warm on your cold skin.

“Close your eyes.” He grabbed the tweezers again, repositioning his hands so that he could grip you firmly. You figured it was so that you didn’t move around or struggle, purposely or not. You obeyed, closing your eyes.

“It’s gonna hurt. Masky it’s gonna hURT!—

He pulled a slightly larger piece out of you leg, making you lean forward to grasp onto his shoulders, gripping them tightly in response to the pain. Your breathing got heavier and you felt your eyes water. You opened your eyes to him looking up at you, his lips turned slightly downwards—usually the look on his face when his mask was off showed no expression, so this was a surprise. He moved to pull out another one, but you stopped him, tugging on his jacket. He paused and looked back up at you.

“I don’t want you to. It really fucking hurts.” You knew that you were being a baby and logically these few more pieces needed to come out of your leg as soon as possible. Your body shook, maybe it was shock. Maybe because you were so cold. Maybe because it hurt so much and you were scared. Probably all of the above. You closed your eyes again, preparing yourself for him to ignore you and pull another out. You wanted this to be done with.

Instead, you felt him wrap his arms under your legs and back, picking you up and walking out of the bathroom. Your eyes watered more, for whatever reason you weren’t sure. You curled into his chest, gripping him tight. It felt secure here. He sat you down on your shared bed, although you found yourself alone in it most nights. He kneeled down to the floor again, taking your leg and picking up the tweezers again to continue.

His actions clicked in your mind instantly, making tears slip even though you tried your hardest to make them stay put hidden away. This was more comfortable, it felt safer in here. He brought your head down to quickly kiss your forehead upon seeing your tears—which only made you cry more. His actions were confirmation that he genuinely cared, which was something you didn’t get often from him.

“I’ll be quick.” He pushed on your shoulder, signaling that he was continuing and that he wanted you to lay down. You did as he asked, laying down and staring up at the ceiling (how ironic that this is what you were trying to avoid doing only so many minutes before) with your legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He pulled another out, your hands clenching the blankets around you as the pain clenched you—your body tensing so as to not spasm out of his grip and mess something up.

“One more.” You let out a breath of relief, bracing yourself for one more. He slowly dug it out, this one apparently deeper than the others. That’s probably why he left it for last. You hit the bed beside you, clenching your teeth as it moved under your skin. He tugged it out, finally.

The tension left your body as soon as it was out, you wanting to curl into bed and never touch any glass objects ever again. “Stay.” You huffed at his word choice. “‘m not a dog.” He paused in the doorway. “...bunny.” You laughed, a bunny? Do you tell bunnies to stay? Can bunnies follow commands? You heard the bathroom sink running, figuring that he was probably washing out the washcloth, surprisingly. Usually he left bloody clothes out and you ended up dealing with them. You knew his intention wasn’t for you to do them, but it somehow ended up that way anyways.

You stopped focusing on listening to what he was doing, instead opting to drag a pillow over to you and snuggle into it as best you could without changing your current position with you laying on your back. Masky came in a minute later, equipped with bandages and a glass of water. You heard one of his many pill bottles scatter as he walked in his pocket. He made you take at least three of those a day, often more if he was with you. The reason you didn’t know, but it didn’t change anything about you, so you didn’t mind.

You waited patiently as he wrapped the bandages around your leg, flinching every so often when he came into contact with an injured area. “Done.” You immediately got up, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was complaining like a baby the entire time.”

He didn’t say anything, as usual. Although he placed his hand on the back of your head, patting awkwardly —it was actually sorta comfy though. You went to leave the room to clean up your mess, only for him to stop you by grabbing your wrist and pulling you back.

“What?” You stared up at him, his face giving away no tell as to what he may be feeling, much less thinking.

“...I need to clean up.” He pushed you back again, seemingly annoyed.

“Didn’t’ch hear me? ‘m cleanin’ it.” You protested as soon as the words left his mouth, but he only pushed you down again, leaving to go clean up your mess. You felt even worse now. You broke a plate, made him clean you up, and now he’s cleaning up the mess you started. You felt absolutely pathetic as more tears slipped out. Your arms moved to cover your face, not wanting anyone to see you genuinely cry.

He was back five minutes later, but paused once again when he heard you sniffling. You wiped your tears, ashamed of your out of control emotions. His mask was on when you looked up to find that he was back. He closed the door beside him and sat on the opposite side of the bed, slipping off his shoes and coat. He laid himself down in bed, looking at you as if he was expecting something. So you got up from your uncomfortable position and crawled in beside him under the covers, wrapping an arm around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer. He was always warm, and a bit sweaty. His arms found themselves around you in return and you smiled for the first time that day.

#i genuinely dont like this #THIS IS SO BADLY WRITTEJ LMFAOFJFJ PLEASE #masky #masky marble hornets #marble hornets headcanons #masky x reader #yandere masky #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets yandere #tim marble hornets #marble hornets #creepypasta headcannons #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #yandere

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Sea Legs

Ch. 3 - Playing Doctor

Boku No Hero Academia / My Hero Academia Quirkless, Mermaid, Modern AU

Rating: Explicit | Excessive Fluff, Blood, Wounds, Nudity, Sex, Cursing and Vulgar Language

Genre: Romance / Humor / Angst

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (oc)

A trip to her grandmothers beachfront home was something that Koge had done every year of her life. This time, an unlikely discovery would change her life forever. Who knew explaining how to be a human could be so hard.

“Well, Katsuki, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Koge.” The petite woman stood, starting to make her way over towards the wounded section of his tail. Bakugou scoffed, glare locked on her as she moved. “Don’t call me by my first name. And don’t expect me to call you by yours!” With a small roll of her eyes, Koge squatted down between two rocks, observing the wood that was pierced through his body. “Well, I don’t like my last name so I’m not gonna tell it to you. So, you have to call me Koge.”

“Fuck that… I’ll call you… Utsuro.”

“Eh? You’re calling me hollow? Why?”

“Because you literally have no fucking expressions and your voice is like an annoying whisper. You’re obviously void of any emotion-- hey, don’t touch me! I fucking told you!” He tilted his body away from her touch as Koge tenderly placed her hand against his scaled body, though he couldn’t go far enough to get away from her. Huffing, Koge narrowed her eyes at him. “No, I’m gonna help you. We have to get this thing out, don’t we?”

“I can pull it out myself! You’ll just end up killing me if you try.” Although he was trying to be tough, Koge could hear the fatigue in his voice. His entire body was still trembling, and the confidence in his strained expression was very quickly fading. In fact, Koge was amazed that he was even still conscious at all. “No,” she spoke sternly, tapping a finger to her chin as she tried to think. “I have to help you, you’d just pass out halfway though from the pain. Oh!” Standing, Koge hopped off the rocks back onto the sand, though she turned her attention back to him before going off.

“Just stay here and I’ll be back. I have to get some stuff from the house to be able to do this.”

“Stuff like what?” Bakugou hissed through his teeth, face now hidden in his arms.

“Well… Towels, bandages, alcohol and I have some pain pills that I bet will help. I mean, you’re half human so they have to work, right?” Koge wasn’t quite sure if her question was directed to him or to the open air, but an annoyed glare from the corner of his eye told her that Bakugou had no idea. “Ah, anyway, just… Chill out here, okay? It’ll only take me a few minutes. Don’t die!” With that, she turned and began sprinting down the beach back towards the house, trying to create a list in her mind.

Towels. Bandages. Alcohol and wound cream, whatever it’s called. A blanket? A bucket. A saw, hand or electric would be better? Medicine, like painkillers and maybe antibiotics if Grandma has any sitting around. Would I need food? What the hell would he even eat? Needle and thread maybe? Would I need a lighter? Damn it, I’m not a doctor, I’m way over my head!

Still, Koge gathered everything as quickly as she could, shoving it all either into the bucket or into a backpack. Fresh water, some raw shrimp from the fridge, a couple of fruits, a tent and other miscellaneous items joined the list, and before Koge really knew it, she looked like she was going camping. Much to her frustration, she wasn’t the only one that noticed.

“My dear? Where are you going with all those things?” Kiki spoke up from the kitchen, spotting Koge as she tried to sneak out the back with all her new belongings. With a small cough to clear her throat and steady herself, Koge took a few steps back, locking eyes with her grandmother. “Ah well, it’s so beautiful outside today I thought I would just maybe… Hang out and pitch a tent and just enjoy the sun?” She could hear the bullshit in her own voice, but she had always been a horrible liar, though she knew that the truth would sound just as ridiculous. After a moment, Kiki nodded, giving a small smile. “Oh, that sounds exciting. The beach is very private, as you know, but please don’t go too far down. Would you like me to send someone to wait on you in a few hours?”

“No, no, that’s okay. If I need something I’ll just come back up. I have my cell phone that can make calls and text still, so let me know if you need me to come back, okay?”

With another nod from Kiki, Koge was off, jogging back down the beach with her excessive amount of effects. She worried the entire time if she had everything she needed, if any of it was even going to work, or if she had taken too long deciding what was necessary to bring. All she could pray for was that the creature she had left on the rocks was still alive, after the good hour it took her to return. At first, she was shocked to find that Bakugou wasn’t even where she had left him. Instead, he had somehow moved himself off the rocks and crawled into a shaded area in the sand, where the edge of the jungle met the beach. It was the trail of blood and disturbed sand that led her to him, worry bubbling in her stomach at first glance.

Bakugou had stayed on his stomach, face once again hidden in his arms. From afar, there was no movement, but as Koge approached she could see his back moving with deep, labored breaths. Knowing she had to hurry, Koge put her belongings down near him, softly speaking to him as to not startle him awake. “Katsuki? Can you hear me?”

The only response was a heavy sigh, though it was obvious that his strength had all but given out at this point. How he had dragged himself at least fifty yards from the rocks was baffling, and if he weren’t in such a dire state, Koge would find herself marveling at his power. But for now, she needed to help him.

“I think I know what I need to do.” Koge began to dig through the backpack, pulling out the towels, medicine, alcohol and battery powered electric saw. “The wood is still too long, I have to shorten it first so it won't be so hard to get out. That, and the end needs to be smooth so it won’t leave splinters. Hopefully it won’t, I mean.” Koge was more speaking to herself in a soft mumble, though Bakugou finally lifted his head to respond. “Tch, I guess you’re not as stupid as you look. What are those pain things you were talking about? Painkillers?”

Picking up on his curiosity, Koge handed him the small bottle, which was sealed with a child proof cap. At first, he focused his tired crimson glare on the words, running his finger along the characters as he did. “May cause drowsiness… Don’t take on an empty stomach. Doesn’t say about no fish-people, so that’s a plus.” Bakugou grumbled to himself as he attempted to open the bottle, though his lighthearted joke was quickly swallowed by frustration. “What the fuck, how does it open!?”

Koge couldn’t help but to giggle softly. “It’s made so children can’t get in it. Push down on the lid with your palm and twist.”

“Are you calling me a child?!”

“Well if you can’t open it, you must be one.”

Her quick retort silenced the blonde instantly, though his glare never left her face. “You’re lucky I feel like shit, or I swear you’d regret that.” Bakugou finally got the bottle open with a pop, promptly pouring more than half of the pills into his palm. Stammering, Koge quickly placed her hand over his, covering the pills so he couldn’t plop them into his mouth. “Wait! Only one!”

“Eh? How is just one of these little pills strong enough?!” Bakugou didn’t fight to get his hand back, though his fingers did clamp down around her small hand in response to her touch. “I’m bigger than a human, don’tcha think?” Koge gave a small shake of her head, closing her fingers around the pills to pick them up from his palm. “Still. Only one. If one doesn’t work, then we can do one and a half. These are super strong, they knock me on my ass, seriously.”

“Well you’re a midget.”

“That’s not very nice.” Koge took the bottle back as well, giving him one single tiny blue pill. “But you have to take it with food. Uh… what do you eat?”

Bakugou glowered up at her, rolling the small pill between his fingers. “Anything.”

“Literally anything?”

“That’s what I fucking said. What did you bring?”

After placing the pills back into the bottle and closing it up, Koge dug through her pack again, looking at her selection of food. “I brought some fruit… Uhm… Shrimp? It’s already been de-pooped--”

“Gimme the shrimp.” Bakugou snapped at her, plopping the pill into his mouth before reaching into the bag himself. “What the fuck do you mean ‘de-pooped’? You mean you cleaned them already? Can you not talk like a normal person?” Feeling the cold plastic bag, he pulled them to him, an obvious hunger giving him enough energy at the moment. Enough energy to be an ass, sure, but Koge couldn’t really blame him. He must have been starving after everything he had gone through and how much blood he had lost, though the fact that he began to eat them half defrosted and raw did freak her out a bit.

“Uh, ew. I mean, I assume you don’t cook them… In the water. But still.” Koge glowered down at Bakugou as he ate with a ravenous hunger, eating all but the tails, which he tossed onto the ground beside him. “We eat everything raw, though we do clean the meat before eating it. At least, most of us do. I can’t stand fish with the scales still on them or the fins. Fucking disgusting.”

Koge gave a small hum, setting out her supplies to care for his wound on top of a towel. “Prissy boy, aren’tcha? You seem spoiled.”

“Like you would know! Stop assuming shit, you don’t know anything about me.” Bakugou tossed a shrimp tail at her, hitting her square on the cheek. “Besides, you’re the one that’s obviously spoiled for a human, living in that big house.”

“I don’t live there, my grandmother does. But that doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed anything like that.” From the side of the backpack, Koge pulled out a water bottle, taking a healthy swig. The morning had faded into midday, and she was beginning to feel the humidity and heat weighing down on her. Even though her hair was up in a ponytail, the stray hairs stuck to her face and the back of her neck, and the grimy feeling of sweat was making itself known. When she finished drinking, she noticed that Bakugou was staring up at her silently, shocking her so much she almost felt the urge to jump. “W-what?”

“What’s that?” His eyes darted from the bottle back to her face. “Is it fresh water?”

“It is. Do you want some?”

At first, he eyed it cautiously, fiddling with a shrimp in his fingers. “If I drink it, I’ll probably take the whole thing. It’s very sweet to us… Addicting almost.”

“Really? Well… Why don’t you have it. I mean… If things don’t go well, at least you got to have some.” Koge handed the bottle out towards him, a bit surprised to see a snarky smirk cross his lips as he took it.

“Heh, true. Well, it wouldn’t be the worst last moments one could spend on Earth.”

“Are you ready then?”

After chugging nearly half the remaining water in the large bottle, Bakugou sighed, the tip of his tail shifting about in what Koge could only assume was either momentary happiness or nervousness. Koge wasn’t confident in herself, but he had put his faith in her, lest he die out here like a beached animal.

“Yes. I want to get it over with. You had better not kill me. I have no choice but to trust you.”

#bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x oc #bakugou #bakugou scenarios #bakugou katsuki #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #bnha writing blog #oc #original character #koge #bakugou x koge #mermaid au #merman!bakugou #mermay

[blackleg5932]

of bad habits and good intensions, contd. ✕ @pxratehunter

At the sight that greeted him, Sanji drew in a sharp breath and held it until Zoro just casually flopped down on the couch beside him after slowly limping towards him from the door. Sanji stared at his blood-smeared body with wide eyes. He wanted to say something, yell at Zoro for being so reckless, demand to know who had managed to do this to him, but his words died in his throat that felt awfully tight, plugged with a big lump of... fear? Worry? Guilt?

Seeing the Marimo hurt was not a surprise per se. The cook did not exactly know what his roommate was up to when he sometimes vanished somewhere just to come back with a souvenir of bruises and scrapes, he did have some more than vague ideas though, none of them pleasant. But he also knew that it was not his business and he would not interfere with whatever Zoro the so-called "Pirate Hunter" was doing.

Sanji had had a feeling that Zoro was on his way to danger, when he heard him leave that morning. Seeking out trouble was some kind of hobby of the swordsman it seemed. Usually, though, he returned with a cocky grin, brimming with confidence and rarely even close to hurt as he was now.

This time Zoro looked defeated, in body and spirit. It unnerved Sanji greatly. His friend still looked tense as if he was waiting for something, probably his reaction. The blond realized that he had not even responded to that utterly ridiculously normal greeting yet, much less anything else.

Biting his lip again, Sanji let his eyes quickly roam over Zoro's figure, mapping out and categorizing the injuries he could see. There was so much blood! Most of it seemed to have streamed out of Zoro's nose though, which looked like it might be broken.

Sanji suddenly got up from the couch. "Get out of that," he ordered swiftly and gestured to Zoro's blood-soaked jacket and shirt. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

His feet carried him to the bathroom in a couple fast paces. In the mirror-cabinet he looked for the antiseptic, gauze and bandages, then he grabbed a small towel and a washcloth and filled the washbowl that he normally used for handwashing his more sensitive textiles with steaming hot water.

Carrying the medical supplies over to the living room, he put it all down on the small coffee table, pushing aside anything that was in the way. A little more forcefully than necessary Sanji pressed the off-button on the TV remote to shut off that annoying background noise.

Laying out the dressing material for easy access, he glanced at the baffled looking Marimo. "Didn't I tell you to undress? We need to clean your wounds."

The cook almost laughed at the confused and suspicious look on his friend's face who had probably expected some kind of scolding and yelling from him. But Sanji was in no fighting mood, not the ones they'd had the last couple of days.

Zoro finally did as he was told but kept a watchful gaze fixed on the cook, observing his every move like a tiger. Sanji sighed and rolled his eyes at his apparent distrust. He rolled up his sleeves, grabbed the washcloth and wet it in the hot water, wringing out the excess liquid.

On the couch Sanji scooted a bit closer to Zoro for better reach. His left hand carefully cupped Zoro's right cheek and gently forced him to move his face more towards him. When he wanted to wipe away the blood on his friend's face, Zoro grabbed his right hand in a firm grasp, stopping him mid-motion.

"I'll be careful," he promised and his eyes softened a bit. Zoro probably was in considerable pain. He still wasn't sure if his nose was actually broken, it was hard to tell with that swelling. But the amount of blood did not promise much hope.

Very tenderly he dabbed the washcloth over Zoro's lips and chin, carefully brushing his nostrils with the fabric but that was already enough to make him flinch away in reflex and growl at the cook.

Sanji tried his best to stay concentrated, which was a little difficult when he constantly felt Zoro's piercing eyes on him while in such close proximity to his face. He didn't dare to do anything about his nose, it was best to leave it be. Well, actually, it would be best to have a doctor look at it, but seeing as Zoro was not a fan of hospitals, Sanji might need to text Chopper later.

For the time being he moved on to Zoro's arms and kept cleaning the cloth inbetween clearing away the blood on his skin, relieved that the washing revealed the cuts and scrapes to be more shallow than expected.

Their silence felt tense and Sanji was aware of the fact that this was a task that Zoro could very well do on his own. Suddenly his washing of his friend's wounds felt awfully intimate and he could not keep his cheeks from turning light pink.

He tried to ignore the feeling that this situation was all ultimately his fault, decidedly not thinking how it was probably his guilt that made him more amicable to the Marimo. Instead he told himself that Zoro was probably aching all over and it was both easier and quicker for Sanji to help him instead. He was also definitely more thorough, too, knowing the idiot he hadn't even thought about disinfecting his wounds.

Sanji left the rag in the blood-muddied water when he was finished cleaning the man up, then he dabbed away the leftover moisture on the tan skin with the towel, once again careful not to irritate the wounds, a little on the ironic side, considering that his next task was to put antiseptic right onto the open skin, which would burn like a bitch.

The only warning Zoro got was that the cook held up the little bottle of disinfectant in front of his face before he started spraying it on his body and dressing up the wounds. Zoro didn't even hiss but Sanji saw the muscles in his jaw twitch under the pressure of how tight it was clenched in discomfort. Fucking idiot.

All bandaged up, with that swollen nose and the dark bruises along his arms and torso he looked almost more beaten and miserable than before. His shoulders were hunched and his posture gave off the vibe of a kicked puppy. Kicked. It was almost as if his brain wanted to torture Sanji with his guilt-tripping.

He dropped his head into his hands. God, what a time to be out of fucking cigarettes, why did he literally burn through them so fast today? Urgh, because the shitty Marimo had gotten into his fucking head. He looked up again to glare at Zoro.

"Oh for fuck's sake...." Sanji mumbled and stood up, ignoring his friend's confused expression.

"Wait." the blond growled pointing to where the other was still sitting and grinned to himself when Zoro just automatically leaned back on the couch. Truly, like a loyal dog, maybe that's the key to a better relationship with the mosshead.

He stomped off to his room, looking for his keys for a moment, and then unlocked and opened his nightstand, grabbing one of the large bottles he had kept hidden there these past days. The source of all his recent troubles.

Grinding his teeth together, Sanji was hesitant for a moment. The cook really didn't want to give in, after all he had been through and all the shit that Zoro had given him for a simple gesture of worry. But he had seen where this stubbornness of his had led to. With his roommate being an equally hardheaded fool....well, how does the saying go? The wiser head gives in.

With the bottle in hand Sanji returned to the living room, where Zoro was carefully poking at the gauze on his abs.

"Don't touch that." Zoro's head immediately snapped up to look at him. Sanji could pinpoint the very moment when his eyes fell on the bottle in his hands, his expression turning wary but otherwise unreadable.

He took another two steps forward, standing right in front of his roommate. He held his gaze while he opened the bottle, then, drinking right from the neck of it, Sanji tilted his head back, eyes closed, and took some large gulps, feeling the burn of the hard liquor trickle down his throat. It was the next best thing to a cigarette.

He had to grant Zoro this: this was definitely the good shit. The liquid immediately settled in his guts and set everything it touched aflame. With the speed with which he chugged it down, Sanji was surprised he didn't cough up half of it again and glad of it 'cause that would have been embarrassing.

When he finally separated his lips from the bottle with a plop he had downed a good thirt of it. Zoro's deathglare made way for surprise as Sanji thrust the bottle into the swordsman's hand, wiping his mouth with the back of his left hand.

He could read the question in those stupidly dark eyes and the intensity of that stare made the cook really uncomfortable. Maybe it was just the alcohol rushing to his head, he was a light-weight after all and this shit always took hold of him so fast, not that he'd ever admit it out loud, but it was an open secret to everyone he knew.

"Because you are a shitty self-destructive fucking Masochist and no matter how much I try to save you from yourself you find a way to get fucked up, so fuck you!" He answered the unspoken question, then feeling selfconscious in his stupid moment of angry honesty he mumbled "I'll get you some ice for that..." gesturing to Zoro's face, and walked over to the kitchen to get an ice-pack from the freezer.

The blood was rushing through his body, taking the alcohol through his system on a fast lane.

#✕ of bad habits and good intentions [plot] #✕ someday we’ll graduate but first let’s have a toast [college au] #✕ and then he gave to me more summer wine [zosan] #long post for ts