#riotaid

 CLEANING   OUT   MY   INBOX            /            @riotaid​ .

SHE’S  GENTLE  TO  HER  UTMOST .         (   and  you  never  expect    crazy    to  be  gentle .  )   she’s  all  the  ways  you’d  assume  certainty  &  care  to  falter  in  a  person;   for  all  a  woman  can  write  first  ,   live  second  ,   she’s  never  factored  in  where  her  own  story  softens  at  the  edges .

——   focus  .   on  the  smoothness  of  her  skin  :   all  tender  palms  &  callused  fingertips  ,   where  she  roughens   ——   never  brutalizes .   on  that  strawberry  skin  at  the  junction  of  her  neck  ;   her  hair  that’s  conducive  to  the  mind  it  conceals :   wild .   rough .   oceanic .

sting   /   hiss .   flesh  like  embers  beneath  a  cooling  swab .   a  temple  aches  for  the  trauma  of  forty - thousand  volts ,   but  it’s  still  a  live  wire  of  absent  considerations .   soft .   hesitant .   sorry ,   sorry ,   sorry .   the  need  for  constant  forgiveness  for  imaginary  wrongdoings ,   but .

it’s  every  indrawn  hiss   &   staggered  exhale ;   forehead  to  cheek ,   where   (  it’s  so  warm ,   i’m  going  to  melt  )   she  gleans  the  bittersweet  relief  of  skin - to - skin .   bandaged  hands  that  cradle  as  a  sling ,   and  push  away  abrasions  like  they’re  scooping  magic  from  air .

fingernails  digging  into  the  flesh  of  her  thigh  to  brave  away  the  pain .   to  tell  her ,   because  she’s  never  one  for  lip  service  of  any  given  sweetness ,   to  just .   stop .   apologizing .   for  how  could  she  hold  it  against  her  ?   how  can  she  say  thank  you  for  this  easy  pain  ?

  “Senpai... I’ve got to hand it to you.” She knows how to manipulate. When to stoke the fires of fear, when to hurt, and when to LOVE. It takes all three to make a person follow you. To become their GOD, you must apply pressure to the right places. 

[ worried starters // not accepting ]

“…i think about myself all the time. like, ‘am i gonna have enough time to finish this game tonight?’ or ‘can i get away with wearing this shirt to school even though it has a chocolate stain on it?’”

SHORT STORIES. // accepting.

     he laughs, softly——not in an antagonistic way, nor with any form of amusement. it’s more like surprise; even disbelief. he is still not used to this PRAISE; to being so well-liked  ( and, honestly, he doesn’t think he will ever get used to it—in the back of his mind, he is still the kid in middle school who sat in the back of classrooms and didn’t really talk to anyone else ).

     he remains silent for just a moment—too long, and he fears tsumiki may worry  ( a feeling that he understands all too well himself )—before his gaze returns to her face from some point in the corner of his vision, and he opens his mouth to speak.

@riotaid​  |  x

the  stable  bed  beneath  him  was  the  only  thing  that  kept  rantaro  grounded  as  the  shsl  nurse  approached  .  he  had  to  admit  ,  needles  &  shots  weren’t  his  favourite  thing  in  the  world  ,  but  as  a  traveler  it  was  a  necessity  .  constantly  going  to  new  places  &    finding  his  way  around  the  world  ,  it  was  important  for  him  to  keep  up  with  his  shots  &  not   risk  any  international  viruses  . 

❛  i’ll  try  &  keep  still  ,  but  i  still  get  the  nervous  when  it  comes  to  immunizations  ,  haha  .  ❜

      A snide face, nose scrunching up as the nurse was just around the dancer, lifting both sleeves to cover her face as she turned her face slightly away.                      “How many times do I have to tell you to fix that putrid smell you pig!” Her voice came out as a low growl. 

            “ you’re  bleeding  ... ”          clear  as  day    &    caught  in  the  dip  of  her  brow  bone .        is  the  world  off  its  axis ?        a  hair  too  shiny ?        everything ,        in  pairs .          “        —————         you  should        —————         m - m - mmm...aybe   ...        not  do  that . ”        eyes  averted ,        for  your  safety  :        the  pad  of  her  thumb  brushes  aside  those  uneven  bangs    /    catches  red  rivulets .

            tongues  are  helicopter .        “        —————         brrrrrrrrrr ! ”