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361 posts


⠀ ❲ a hand's running through his own hair. ❳ jesus christ ⸝ man——did you even 𝑐lean that .ᐣ ⠀

" you're lucky i was even home. i was supposed to have a parent-teacher conference tonight," [ ryland grumbles, but it's half hearted as he dabs at the wound with a rubbing-alcohol soaked washcloth. he's sure it hurts, and he's more sure court won't show it. he never does. ]

[ grace watches, but not for long. he's never liked the sight of blood, but he'll be damned if he lets court patch himself up without help, so he swats his hand away and pulls a pair of blue medical gloves out of the kit. ] lay down. is it a bullet wound or a stab wound?



[ a loud sigh, shoulders tense like a live wire as he gently sets the first aid kit next to his brother. ] " well, it did, courtland. "

why just alright ??

[ a begrudging glare from the doorway, holding a first-aid kit in his arms. ] first time i see you in years and you're bleeding out on my kitchen table.

( she's sitting back in the chair with a soft huff— now tired from the energy expended towards healing his wound. ) healing powers. . tired now. ( that was all she muttered through her helmet , her eyes fluttering closed. )

⠀ shouldn't he go to the hospital .ᐣ something like that's the gateway to a nasty infection ⸝ if you ask him. ⠀

( she's sitting down across from him , a white blueish orb forming in her hand. . it looked like an orb of some kind. she'd look up one last time before pushing the orb up to his abdomen— and just like that , it was like the wound never existed. )




