bakerstreet | The Personal Hygiene Shipping Meme

The Personal Hygiene Shipping Meme

Personal hygiene is just that - personal. By the time we've come to a point in our lives where we notice that the concept exists and we should be prudent about it, we can take care of ourselves. There are also many practical reasons why we don't involve other people in this process. We're not too keen on showing off parts to be cleaned that are private in most contexts, and there's definitely an ingrained aversion to showing so much soft, fleshy skin. Hot water or a sharp razor could spell dangerous with a capital D should they come into the hands of someone with a vendetta against you. No need to be extra vulnerable.

So, if you're involving another person in your cleansing routines, it must be someone you trust. Not only that, but it's most likely someone you're comfortable with and likely at least somewhat open to being intimate with. You may not be dropping all your clothing in front of them, but it's still you opening yourself up to touching and closeness unparalleled in more "usual" moments.

Established and burgeoning couples (or not-so-couples) can bond through this showing of care and good faith. Will you like being pampered and find the attention endearing? Or will things go terribly, terribly wrong?

...you never should have let them near that shaving cream.

Comment with your character and preferences.
Smut is not required. Mention if you want/don't want it.
Reply to others and use the RNG.

Comfort: You've decided to pitch in a helping hand to get your partner to unwind, and warm water or suds may do the trick.
Romantic: The sole purpose of this endeavor is to set a lovey-dovey mood. No shame here!
It Started Out Platonic...: What a good pal you are, volunteering to give your friend a good scrub. Of course, you didn't count on the cute way she squirms as you scrub her back or how he blushes when you shampoo his scalp.
No Choice: Currently, you're unable to clean yourself up. That means that you need assistance, and it might as well be the person you lov- tolerate the most.
Open: You have trust issues. Actually, you have backlogs of trust issues. Still, you want to show the person you love that you're willing and trying to change for them, and what better way than letting down your walls and having the assist in your grooming?
Shave: Whether it's your face, your legs, or...your other places you've decided to shave, there's a certain intimacy involved in letting your lover do it for you. Let's hope they won't leave you looking like you got into a battle with a book with the paper cuts to prove it.
Reluctant: They want to get you clean. You don't want to show off your body at all. It's injured, it looks weird, what if they don't like it...
Forced: You love them, you really do, but you won't kiss them if they continue to look like an unwashed hobo clown. You have to draw the line somewhere, and if they won't take action, you will.
Beat Up: You've been trampled in a fight. Your partner isn't about to let you wallow around in your own mud and blood.
Hair: Some find that there's nothing quite as soothing as getting their hair washed or brushed. Of course, those with more luxurious locks may find any hair care a burden, so the assistance is appreciated.
Make Up: They think you're beautiful already. See how they'll paint you up when they get the chance.
Unique: If you're not human, you probably have your own proceeders you have to do to keep all spiffied up. There are wings with stray feathers to pluck, horns on heads to polish, scales to shave down, all sorts of tasks! Introduce your ignorant (and most likely human) boyfriend or girlfriend to your world...and your pain.
Accommodations: Those with disabilities or prosthetics may also have their own routines, and anyone who wants to be with them should learn how to pitch in.
Sponge Bath: You don't have enough water to do this right or you just want to give them a nice rub and scrub with a gentle sponge or wash cloth.
Wound Care: In order for wounds to heal, proper care must be taken. Bandages have to be changed and cuts cleaned out. It's certainly easier when you don't have to do it all by yourself.
Together: You're both cleaning up, taking a bath, splish splash, in the same tub because there's no where else to go. This is the most likely smut option, even if, again, it starts off "platonic."
Clothing: Don't forget that clean clothes are an important part of personal hygiene. Always make sure your partner has a nice, fresh outfit, even if it's to your taste and not theirs.
I've Made a Terrible Mistake: Somehow, everything's now shit. This little experiment went haywire and you may be sporting anything from the worst hairdo of your life to a Columbian necktie.
FREE SPACE

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[ ooc; gen definitely okay too. ]

[ooc: I was thinking either 9 or 15 or both? Do you have any preferences?]

[ ooc; seems like one would naturally come with the other! as far as who is injured, either one or both seems pretty likely - once this ox gets going I don't think he brakes for much. ]

[ooc: Both seems good to me.]

[The worst part of all of this was that Hartley knew hanging out with Mick Rory would end this way. He knew it wouldn't end well and he decided to do it anyway. He was bored and the potential trouble they might get into seemed worth it at the time. He couldn't even pretend he hadn't had fun, because he had. Who wouldn't enjoy drinking, stealing and fighting, especially when it gave him the opportunity to put his gloves to good use and shatter every window in the vicinity? He spent so much time cooped up in his apartment working on his projects lately that it seemed reasonable to go out and have a little fun for once. And it was fun.

Until the cops showed up and they ended up returning to Hartley's apartment injured and bloody. Now that hadn't been Hartley's idea of fun. And he had no one to blame for any of this but himself. Not that he wouldn't damned well try to pin it on someone else.]

I told you we should have made a run for it when the cops showed up.

[Hartley helped Mick into the apartment and sat him down on the sofa before making his way to his first aid kit. They were both hurt, but Mick definitely looked like he needed to be patched up first.]

Yeah yeah, you know everything.

[ Mick sinks onto the couch with a heavy grunt, reaching up to pull his goggles free of his face and hissing when it rode up over a bleeding gash on the back of his skull. His particular party outfit was made of the sort of thick material that protected him from both flame and a degree of shrapnel, but that sort of protection didn't extend to his buzzed head. As far as cuts went, the worst was there.

No, for him, most of the damage had come catching one of Rathaway's errant sonic blasts and bashing into a parked car. He wasn't mad about it - they were playing with some pretty dangerous equipment and the guy was clearly not used to working with a partner. Maybe the cops had scared him a little. Anyway, Mick figured he'd probably paid the Piper back by setting off the fiery explosion that had finally secured them enough of a distraction for escape, near enough to toss the scrawny bastard if not give him a sunburn. ]

But I didn't see anybody holdin' you back, either.

[ He smirks at the other man knowingly, eyes bright. Mick had enjoyed it and he wasn't sorry. ]

[Hartley came back with the first aid kid and set it down on the coffee table before frowning down at the gash on Mick's head. He didn't understand how Mick could just go out there, take risks, and allow his head to be so exposed like this. It was just asking for exactly this kind of an injury, if not worse. But if Mick didn't care, he supposed it wasn't his place to get worked up about it.

Hartley opened the first aid kit and started taking everything out that he'd need to clean and possibly stitch the cut.]

I do know that it's usually a good idea to start running when you hear sirens coming.

[Not that he had. Instead, he stuck around to help Mick fight, which probably only made things worse for the both of them. As a scientist, collaborating with others was par of the course for Hartley, but as the Pied Piper, this had been his first time working with a partner. It was both easier and more difficult than he thought it would be. Easier because it meant someone actually had his back for once, but harder because he hadn't quite known what to expect and almost nothing had been planned in advanced. Both were pretty good ways to get yourself burned. Literally in Hartley's case.]

Someone had to make sure you didn't get arrested.

[As much as Hartley would like to keep a straight face and hold onto his annoyance a little bit longer, it was impossible to hold back a smirk of his own. Tonight was the most fun he's had in a long time and he didn't regret a single moment of it.]

Oh, so you were lookin' out for me? Hmm.

[ There's skepticism there, but some of the edge falls off of that smirk. The larger man's stare flickers down to the first aid kit, and Hartley's hands as they begin to make quick work of the supplies. ]

Why don't you go get us something to drink, huh? Neither of us is gonna bleed out here anytime soon.

[ Even if the back of his head and nape were just about coated in blood. Mick unzips and shrugs out of his coat, leaving him in his long-sleeves and suspenders. He liked the heat, but he figured he ought to check out his arms to make sure all the aches he was feeling were just bumps and bruises. ]

Of course I was. Why else would I stick around?

[He set everything he was going to need down on the table, his hand pausing on the antiseptic before setting that down too. Mick was right, neither of them were likely to bleed out any time soon and having something to drink (assuming Mick was talking about alcohol, and it was a pretty safe bet that he was) might help with the pain once he got started.]

I have whiskey, vodka and beer if that's the kind of drink you mean. Water, coffee and milk if it's not.

[He headed to the kitchen and pulled out a couple of glasses from the cabinet before making his way to the freezer to get some ice.]

Whiskey. Neat.

[ While Hartley's off in the kitchen, Mick takes a moment to have a look at the apartment around him from the sofa. As a career criminal, he was usually on the move to avoid capture or be close to the next job Snart wanted to pull. He was curious whether or not Hartley had begun that process of being able to travel light.

As he slips his suspenders off of his shoulders, the motion causes a trickle of blood to slip behind his ear. Consequently, he reflexively gives his head like a dog dislodging water. ]

Shit...

[ He grunts to himself, quickly throwing his jacket over the brand new blood-spatter on the arm of Rathaway's sofa before the man gets back.

At an actual speaking volume: ]

I dunno. Maybe you wanted to fight the cops, just to see if you could.

[ Which was a perfectly plausible reason in the mind of Mick Rory.

He's down to his undershirt when Hartley returns, rubbing over the old burn scar on his upper arm. ]

[Hartley's apartment (his living room, at least) looked pretty average for the most part. The hearing aids he'd been working on earlier were lying on the coffee table along with a couple of science journals and the contents of the first aid kit, but other than that, the place looked pretty unremarkable. He even had pets; a couple of rats peering out at Mick from their cage in the corner of the room. They didn't exactly make light travel easy, but given how much time he spent cooped up inside working, having them around was good for his sanity.

Hartley poured Mick's drink and made his own chilled before coming back out to the living room with their drinks.]

I already knew I could fight the cops. I've done it before. Back when I first got started.

[He handed Mick his drink, eyeing him for a moment as he looked him over for more injuries. He was oblivious to the new blood splatter on his sofa, but that was probably for the best. His place might be average, but that sofa was relatively expensive.

Perhaps bringing a bleeding criminal back to his place hadn't been the brightest idea in the world but it had been closer and easier to get to than his hideout, so whatever.]

How are you feeling?

[ With the topside of Mick's arms covered in third degree burn scars, it might be a little difficult to tell what was a new injury and what was old at first glance. There was a bright pink patch on one of his shoulders that spoke of an abrasion, but nothing that was bleeding.

He takes the glass as it's offered to him, giving Hartley a silent little toast with it before he takes a swig - AHH, now that wet the whistle! ]

Me? I feel greeeat.

[ A diabolical grin stretches over Mick's features as he stretches the word. He means it. Combined with his scars and the blood, he looks a bit crazed, but pleased nonetheless. ]

Most fun I've had all week. You?

[With all the burn scars, Mick honestly looked like a mess. For a moment he was worried he'd have to spend the whole night patching him up, or worse, be forced to take him to the hospital (some of those burns looked serious), until he got a better look and realized most of them were old scars. Just how often did this guy get hurt?

He finally tore his eyes off Mick's arms to raise his own glass to return the silent toast before taking a gulp of his own drink.]

Right. Well, I'm sure you'll feel even better once I get you patched up.

[Because damn, Mick looked deranged right now. Hartley probably shouldn't be so amused, but he couldn't help himself. All in all, it was a damned good night.]

Most fun I've had in months. Why don't we hang out more often?

[ Mick certainly wasn't afraid of getting hurt or getting his hands dirty - "tolerant of extremes" was how Snart had once put it to him, and it was all Captain Cold could do at times to keep his hotblooded counterpart's gameness from becoming pure recklessness. Had Hartley not been there with him today, he might not have even tried to escape the police. And they were both probably lucky the Flash was either taking a personal day or dealing with something else. ]

I dunno. It kinda just happened. Maybe we ought to.

[ If Hartley needed someone to enable a spontaneous tear of destruction, he'd certainly picked the right man.

Mick's brow furrows. ]

You're gonna patch me up?

[ Suddenly, all the laid out supplies made sense. He'd thought maybe the other was laying them there like a communal patch-up pool. Aside from the Snarts, Mick wasn't really used to anyone else taking care of him. He reaches up, gingerly touching the wound on the back of his head. ]

I guess if you wanna. Can't really see this one myself. Somethin' you know how to do?

[The possibility of the Flash showing up had been a much bigger concern for Hartley than the police had been. When he finally confronted the Flash again, it was going to be on his terms and planned in advance. Hartley wasn't usually as reckless was he was tonight. Mick was clearly a terrible influence on him. Who would have guessed he'd enjoy a night of fighting and lawbreaking with Heat Wave of all people?]

It would give me an excuse to take more frequent breaks from my projects.

[He couldn't make a habit out of this kind of behavior, but he supposed an occasional destruction spree wouldn't hurt. He's earned himself a little fun.

He stared at Mick incredulously for a moment. Who else did he think was going to deal with the wound on the back of his head?]

Of course I am. It's not like you can do it yourself. Not without making it worse.

[He took another swig of his drink before setting in down on the table and picking up the supplies again. Now that they were on the subject, he really should get to work on patching Mick up.]

I know what I'm doing, yes. Is it safe to assume you've had stitches before?

I could do it if I had to.

[ He grumbles in protest. Sure, he may not be able to do stitches very well, but he could clean the thing up and slap on some tape. As it stands, Mick doesn't see any reason to deny the help. Just going by what he's seen of the gloves and those hearing aids in progress, the guy probably has some steady tinkerer's hands. ]

Yeah, I've had stitches before. I need 'em?

[ He does, with the gash in his head being about a thumb's length long and deep enough one might see a hint of skull. There's still little flecks of glass like diamonds around the wound. ]

Not as well as I can.

[Hartley didn't want to think about the kind of scar Mick would end up with if he tried to deal with this particular wound on his own. Slapping some tape on the wound just wouldn't cut it this time.]

The gash on your head looks pretty deep.

[He approached to get a better look at the wound, and upon seeing how deep it actually was, immediately wished he'd shown more restraint with his gloves earlier. It looked like Hartley wasn't going to be giving Mick crap about the blood on his sofa after all.]

Yeah, I'm going to have to stitch this up. But I'll need to get the glass out first. You should finish your drink while I sterilize the tweezers and needle.

[ Mick has to take the younger man's word for it - for him it was just a dull, slightly throbbing ache that his fingers couldn't quite figure out through the blood. ]

Have at it, doc.

[ Obediently, he drains the rest of his glass in one go. Maybe Hartley will feel a little better with Mick acting so blase. ]

[Hartley was actually a little concerned that Mick might be in shock. Most people would have been panicking by now. But panic was the last thing Hartley wanted to deal with while picking glass out of someone's head, so he was going to take advantage of Mick's surprisingly calm attitude while it lasted. Perhaps he'd wait until Mick was all patched up before telling him just how bad the wound looked.

Once everything was sterilized and his hands were clean, he came back and turned the light near the sofa on so he could see what he was doing.]

I'm going to need you to sit as still as possible while I do this. Or you can lie down on your stomach if that will help. This might take a while.

Quit babyin' me and get on with it, will ya? I don't wanna be doin' this all night.

[ He's fine sitting up, he thinks, but starting to get irritated. They may have gone out and had a good time together, but Mick's not beyond turning around and swatting the guy to spur him into action if he keeps it up.

Making an attempt at distraction, he folds his arm across his chest and stares out at the cage in the corner. ]

Those rats for experiments or something?

Would you rather spend your night in the ER, handcuffed to a hospital bed?

[Hartley rolled his eyes but got to work cleaning the area surrounding the wound anyway. He'd like to get this over with himself, but he refused to rush through it just because Mick was feeling impatient. He didn't want to deal with the fallout from Snart if his partner in crime got an infection and kicked the bucket.]

No, they're my pets. They do help me out from time to time, but I don't experiment on them.

[As he spoke, the rats were letting themselves out of the cage and sneaking closer to get a better look at the stranger on their sofa. They were lucky Hartley was too busy at the moment to shoo them back to their cage.]

Are you afraid of rats?

[ Despite himself, he flinches a little as that antiseptic hits the edges of the gash on his head, hissing loudly. After the initial jerk, though, he sits still. ]

Do I seem like the kind of guy who's scared of anything?

[ That doesn't mean he's willing to have them crawl on him. He'll be eyeing the rodents and their movements just as surely as they're looking at him. ]

[He paused for a moment when Mick flinched before continuing what he was doing. Perhaps he should make Mick another drink once this part was over, to help him get through the stitches. But for now he focused on making sure the area was clean so he could move on to removing the glass. So help him, if Mick decided to paw at the gash with his dirty hands after this, Hartley was going to cut them off.]

No, but you never know. Most people find rats repulsive. I find them useful.

[The rats lost interest in Mick pretty quickly once they realized he wasn't going to do anything interesting (like feed them), they began to ignore him in favor of chasing each other across the room.]

They're usually better behaved than this. They're not used to me having people over.

What're you sayin'? They're tryin' to show off or embarrass you?

[ Mick has worked and lived in more than a few dumps in his life - he's pretty used to the presence of rats. Bugs too. Knowing that Rathaway comes from an affluent background, he finds it ironic he'd keep pets associated with poverty.

He watches the creatures scamper around the room, having nothing better to do or focus on beside the irritating stinging of his scalp. ]

You ever seen that movie Willard?

[Once he was finished cleaning the wound, he finally begin to work on getting the glass out of Mick's head. This was actually a lot harder than stitching him up will be. Getting glass out of wounds was a huge pain in the ass.]

No, they're just excited. I wouldn't be surprised if they started showing off at some point though. They love attention.

[Hartley's always had a fondness of rats. Despite their bad rep, they were one the cleanest, friendliest, most intelligent pets a person could have. Besides, it shouldn't surprise anyone that someone calling himself the Pied Piper would have an affinity towards rats.]

No, it's a horror movie, isn't it? What's it about?

Hm. I know the type.

[ Fortunately for them both, most of the gritty glass and dirt specks had been carried free of the wound itself by the ooze of blood. There were just a few shining grains to get. ]

It's about some guy - uh, Willard - and he trains these rats into a personal army. Steal stuff, kill his boss for him, whatever...

I wouldn't go gettin' any ideas, though. They eat him in the end.

Edited 2016-02-03 09:32 (UTC)

The Personal Hygiene Shipping Meme

mick rory ( heat wave ) | the flash/legends of tomorrow ( cw )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)