//Shamelessly stolen unlike Emilia's theft

//you know you found good friends when you just spend too long talking about how your ocs will totally be friends just because of vibes and food even when there should be no reason for them to meet

//everyone's characters having sexy moments and then there's this hobo

I hunt monsters.

//anyway, work is fun

//I didn't realize I needed crop top Kurt in my life. Almost took me out like '97s crop top Remy did

You're close.

And that guess is?

I'll give you one more.

"No." She stood before pulling him in for a hug, his head on his chest. There sas a subtle tremble in her hands, both in carefully contained rage and in the fear that she almost lost someone else. "This is me reaching out." It was unspoken, but she wanted him to know he could scream, curse the

Nope.

< Could have been a batkid if Bruce got ahold of her before the Order

Holding her hand out-

//sips tea

"Of course you're trying," she interjected. "I get it. I'm the same. You're being fine because it's all you can do, all you know." She took in how he winced, the subtle waver when he moaned, and worked more carefully. Each touch was gentler, treating him more like glass as she finished applying the

"You don't have to be tough." She ran her fingers along some of the marks. Grabbing an ointment from her kit, she kneeled next to him and began to apply it to the worse looking ones. "There's some ibuprofen in my bag."

She was silent for a moment before stepping away. A few moments later, she came back with her bag and pulled out a first aid kit. "Shirt off. I'll try to patch you up a bit while you eat. Knowing you, you'd be disappointed if I hunted them down."

"You didn't say where they jumped you," she noted before quickly adding. "You know, might help with a police report.

Not even close.

You wouldn't be a morally corrupt corporation if you did.

. . . I deal with missing and murdered children.

It is pretty important, yeah.

I travel a lot for my job.

It's called living in a tent. And sleeping on a bus.

I don't have a kettle. Obviously.

//Terry wtf is this hairline

Only fancy people have kettles.

I didn't say I wanted any. Besides, tea is gross.

Posh, even.

"Mm," she nodded, silently running the ice over his more visible and accessible wounds. He voice seemed nonchalant, her expression seeming uninterested. "Where was this? How many?"

Bet.

Chat, I'm being shamed for not knowing fancy people tea etiquette.

Well excuse me for asking an actual question. No need to be a dick about it.

Cue an eyebrow raise. "Snack. Right. Looks more like you didn't have dinner yet." She could be mean. Super mean, even. Instead, she grabbed some ice from the freezer and held a cube to his cheek. "Long day?"

Imagine trying to explain something domestic like kettles and tea to a homeless stray.

Don't try to get smart with me.

What?

< Bout to punch Terry

No. I don't.

It's still just hot water??

It's literally faster that way?

"You got the good stuff." She's grabbing it. Munching. "Whatcha doing?"

Just throw a mug of water into the microwave??

Sneaking around him to steal some chips.

@/mhasammyoc.bsky.social is them too, just as a heads up!

Maybe you're one of the lucky spider species

Don't most spiders die after laying eggs?

//GIVE ME MY BOY ALREADY

//it gets worse 💀

//listen. We've all had that phase where we either wanted mystique or wanted to be mystique