bakerstreet | minor injury meme.

minor injury meme.

You or your meme partner has been hurt, but don't worry! This time around it's not that bad. You can still limp your way out of this mess.

INJURIES.
1. Sprain/strain. How did you screw up walking?
2. Broken bones. Simple fractures still hurt.
3. Cuts. Hopefully one of you has a sewing kit.
4. Burns. Location, location, location. Let's pray this one isn't on your ass.
5. Concussion. No, they're most likely not holding up fifteen fingers.
6. Other. I'm not a doctor.

HOW'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Stupidity. You did this to yourself.
2. Accident. Is an unintentional attack still an attack?
3. Attack. Don't lie, you deserved it.
4. Other. It's probably still your own fault.

WHERE'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Home. Did you remember to invest in a first aid kit?
2. School/Work. This should be excellent for getting you out of doing stuff!
3. Outdoors. Predators like the smell of blood. Clean up asap.
4. In the water. Hopefully there aren't any sharks!
5. Other. Like a hospital. That'd be handy.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She winces very slightly at the pressure, but nonetheless her eyes fall shut and she sighs. His hand is warm, calloused from constant use of a sword. She almost wants him to take liberties, run his hand higher, or lower, all over, really.

It's been far too long since she's had a man's hands on her. Cullen would probably balk at the very thought, though. She remembers how flustered he got when she teasingly asked him about celibacy vows, and whether he'd taken any.

Hell, for a split second before she opens her eyes again, she considers leaning over and kissing him, just to see how he'd react. Probably badly. As he should. It's a terrible idea. ]

It feels fine to me. [ She murmurs that, missing his hand on her skin already. ] I mean - I'm sure it'll do.

I-I'm not in pain at all! I-- [IT'S ALL ABOUT PRIDE AND BEING STUPID. He tries to pull his hand back from hers... But there's another sharp pain and he winces.] --Ah! Don't you have better things to do!?

It's nice to have people not trying to stop me from-

Well, it's nice that there are some people who are no longer mistakenly trying to stop me from saving the world.

[He flexes the arm, and it's a little better now. It doesn't hurt as much to move.]

If we have the opportunity to acquire a Tevinter chef I'll see what can be done.

[They'd recruited a number of strange people to the inquisition, so why not?]

[ She chuckles a little at the very idea, following his gaze with slightly raised eyebrows. ]

Of course, worry about your breeches. It's your own fault. [ She slides a hand affectionately over his shoulders, her thumb finding a knot at the base of his neck and working to loosen it. ]

I know a spell that will allow my spirit to assist you should I fall into unconsciousness. Even I can only over come death briefly but only if I am casting the spell myself. [Ah, the reassuring discussions of magic and his skill with it. That is much nicer to talk about than how he might actually die from this.]

These robes are probably a lost cause which is a shame because the Inquisitor found me something nice for once. [He does his best to keep an even pace with the Champion. He's fought high dragons. He can make it the distance to the ruins.] You're almost wearing armor. Have you noticed that? You're not a warrior, you know.

Still is. I've been to Val Royeux a few times. Tasted of a warm summer breeze or something like that.

[Trevelyan rubs at his leg a little bit now that he's been called out on it.]

I stretched too far.

[By accident. Due to lamp oil on the stone.]

There are already plenty of people trying to stop you from saving the world but their the ones trying to destroy it. Feeling better?

[He folds the bit of cloth, slides it back into a pouch and puts the poultice in another pouch on his belt.]

Unfortunately, the only countrymen of mine that are down this far south are here to kill you. I doubt you'll find anyone but Orlesian food will do.

[Dorian doubts anyone can find any Tevinter treats in the South, even the Inquisitor.]

[She's rifling through the satchels of the Venatori, ignoring the gash on her arm, although she is holding it at an angle away from the rest of her body.]

Oh it's fine. I've had worse than this.

You never forgot the touch of magic, good or ill. Cullen certainly hadn't, and even if the pain decreased there was a certain tenseness that stubbornly refused to leave his frame as the healer did his part. That magic washed over the wound like a balm all its own, warm and tingling and sinking down through skin and muscle and knitting it all back together again.

Finally he let out a breath, lifting his arm to curl and uncurl his hand as instructed. Nothing. Not so much as a twinge of pain left behind. With a satisfied nod he turned his gaze back to the young mage, whose name he suddenly realized he did not know. "You had a knack for this at your Circle, I'd wager."

Observation of the mages as they studied lent a certain insight into who was likely to learn towards which branch of magical study. They could use more like him, given what they were likely to face in the battles to come, for Maker knew how long.

Interesting. Mildly creepy, but... it won't come to that. [Nope, nope, la la la, the measly little healing spell he learned from Anders will be just fine and dandy here in a moment.]

Don't be so sure... I know a few tricks for getting blood out of silk. Don't ask how...

[Answer: His mother.

Discussing clothing is a lot more comforting than the looming possibility Dorian will bleed out in a few minutes, so he's all too happy to oblige the change of subject.]

They, ah- commissioned this for me when I got my title. At that point the fact I was an apostate wasn't the biggest bit of gossip in Thedas, so I let them err on the side of... less mage-y.

But the fur was my request.

[Almost there, they pass two columns that lead to the ruin complex proper.]

[Any reply is lost when she starts massaging his neck. He melts under her hand on an average basis, but this? Gets a moan out of him, shoulders going slack.]

It's an incredibly useful skill on the battlefield. I can call for help and even cast a few spells to help people, but again, Tevinter, we specialize in creepy. [He's quite relieved to pass through the columns into the ruins. There's cover and a safe place to heal.]

Oh, do share your secrets, Champion. I am all ears.

[At a suitable corner inside he moves away from Hawke's hold to sit and begin the incredibly slow and painful process of undoing the belts that keep his robe closed.] That's not a bad plan. Commander Cullen has the same sort of furred collar. I laughed at first, you look like beasts, but in the cold here it makes sense. You must be warm.

Maker, I hate Orlais.

[Not a pout. Promise.]

You stretched too far? Was it in the midst of closing a rift or some other feat of heroism, or is Varric going to have to help you with your public relations?

[Joking, joking..]

Not too bad, at least?

"That belief means a lot to me. And to everyone else too, I think." Trevelyan had never been the most ardent believer, but he believed now, and he knew how important it was to believe.

He glanced around, at the men practicing and Cassandra abusing a training dummy, then down at his own injured right arm. "Join me for a drink? I promise there will be no card games."

Haven't we all, but there's no need for you to make it worse by not tending to it.

[He clucks at her as he makes his way over to steer her away from the dead.]

Bull can loot the corpses. Come now, let me tend to that little scrape.

Still, next time perhaps the healer should see to it.

[ Because there will be a next time, won't there? He has to send her out in harm's way because that's what they're here to do. That's what she has to face, day after day, because she can endure long enough to do what must be done.

Cullen still finds himself longing for the day when they'll no longer need to. What she'll do then, whether she chooses to stay with the Inquisition or find new purpose to her life, should be her decision. Even if that means leaving all of this -- and him -- behind.

It's too much to think on just now, coupled with the way she looks at him. Maker, the way she looks at him now, he feels frozen to the spot. ]

...how is it feeling? That is, how are you feeling?

A pebble.

[Of course.]

But you don't have to.

I don't mind Orlais, it's the Orlesians that give me problems.

[It is so hard to smile and be diplomatic sometimes. It really, really is.]

There were no witnesses, so as far as anyone is concerned it's a dragon-fighting wound. And it'll be fine.

There's nothing more important than helping someone in need!

[ ... Yes, this is still the same shy girl in your class. ]

I didn't want to jump to conclusions, though I've only met a few Tevinter... [One slave and a bunch of jackass magisters. Sorry, Dorian.]

You want cold water. Lots of it. And dabbing it off with something absorbent- here we are.

[He's gentle as he can be in hoisting him down and letting him sit, hanging back for a moment to let him disrobe.]

Well... Fereldan. You know. [He scratches the back of his neck a bit awkwardly.] We like anything that feels like a dog draped over us.

[He's hovering again as soon as Dorian gets closer. That really is a lot of blood...]

Does it hurt to breathe at all?

Yes. At least I'll have a good story to go with the scar.

[At this rate he's going to catch up with Bull for 'interesting scars']

I see. In that case do you want food that tastes like sorrow, or a fresh spring morning?

While this wasn't exactly something he had expected to do today, it wasn't like she was interrupting any important plans or anything. Bucky wasn't as social as the rest of the gang, still uncomfortable in crowds and still trying to get out of weekly counselling, so his days are usually spent in the tower's gym or holed up in one of the various empty rooms trying to keep himself distracted. Some days, like today, he'd throw on one of the hoodies Steve had brought for him, gloves to keep his metal hand unnoticed, and walk around the block outside for some fresh air.

It was one of those days when he returned from a few hours outside, barely kicking off his shoes when he heard noise and Russian cursing not too far away. Concerned, he'd headed quickly towards the source of the commotion, only to discover the notorious Black Widow herself having some sort of altercation with a set of stairs and a ridiculously high pair of heels.

If he was at all surprised by the situation, he didn't let it show. Bucky didn't even say a word as he made his way over to her, guiding her arm over his shoulders as he moved his around her, metal under her legs and flesh around her back. He lifted her up carefully, wasting no time as he brought her to the nearest empty room with a comfortable enough couch to set her down on. He knew her well enough that being seen as a damsel in distress was the last thing on her wishlist, so staying out of the way of any prying eyes was a priority. Stark was probably busy in the garage anyway.

Once she was settled, Bucky crouched down on the floor to inspect the damage. It was definitely a sprain, so next he made his way to the nearest cooler or freezer (easy enough to find, what with all the bars in the tower.) He returned a few minutes later, a cold bag of frozen vegetables wrapped in a cloth in hand, and he pulled up an ottoman to sit on, carefully bringing her injured foot up to rest in his lap and gently setting the cloth over her ankle.

"Didn't feel like leaving you on the stairs," Bucky answered, a hint of a smile on his lips as he checked on her ankle again. Still swollen, but not terribly so, at least. "Someone might've tripped over you."

Tch. [ He's always tense. They all are, who wouldn't be, with the world the way it is?

She always wishes she could do more, but she does what she can, regardless. His burdens are heavy, too. She starts working at the knots with both hands, feeling the muscles of his shoulders bunching up under her touch. ] Relax. Rest.

Oh, don't worry, you won't offend me. I know people assume the worst of me because of my heritage. [None of it is deserved, of course, but he deals with it. He revels in it even, to prove them wrong.]

The dog thing, one day someone will explain that to my satisfaction. Cullen tired but I still don't understand. [He shrugs out of the top half of his robes which is very easy considering he only keeps one shoulder covered.]

No, there's no damage to my lungs. The barrier kept the daggers from going that deep. Try a little bit of healing magic whenever you feel like it.

Oh yes, because you need more good stories. Don't you want boring stories and less scars?

[He's heard the story for some of those scars. Dorian is fascinated and horrified each time storytime starts.]

Why does anyone want food that tastes like sorrow? I do like a good spring morning. The light makes me look fantastic.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 17 of 68

minor injury meme.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

They like to be the center of attention, that's why.

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