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@leikc
Wow it’s been years since I’ve been on here. Kinda unsure if I should pop back in or nah. Or if folks would rather just rp via discord man I’m always down. Hit me up if you guys still even wanna. I used to be @mylcdy-blog / @lxckylxdied / @flcrets and a bunch of other blogs way back when.
I’m more oc focused with original stories now but uh.. yeah.
“I don’t know WHY is it so hard for people to understand that I’M his brother. Therefore I should be his BEST FRIEND AND BEST MAN, and everyone else should GO AWAY.”
“You’re such a killjoy, Momdashi. That’s a bit creepy telling everyone else to bug off of your brother when he’s gonna be engaged soon.”
She’s quietly humming to herself. Is that.. It’s the Sailor Moon theme song!?
@technoheart replied to your post: @lethehearted “….” ...
[ Plot twist: it probably says “I ♥ pussycats!” because he’s a nerd ]
“Only if it said the last part on the back, otherwise, your brother has a dirty hat.”
@lethehearted
“....”
“When exactly did you get a beanie that said “I ♥ Pussy.” again?”
“So. Someone’s determined to hook me up. No fair! You already got engaged!”
“I think you need stitches.”
Well Crap ♦|♦ @technoheart
“Look, I know it looks bad, but it’ll be fine, really. We’ll just wrap it up, and pretend it’s not there. Simple as that,” perhaps she wasn’t the best doctor or even the best medic, but when it came to her own limbs, she was covered in deep scars and the like from biking. She knew what she had to do with what sort of bad juju that came to her. She was just glad she’d managed to get Hiro out of the way of traffic.
Injured/Injury Starters
Injured
“Oh shit, are you alright?”
“Dude, I don’t think you’re alright.”
“Blood’s not supposed to be coming from there…”
“That looks broken.”
“Can you move your __?”
“Are you okay?”
“That doesn’t look good.”
“Who did this?”
“Did you do this to yourself?”
“How did this happen?”
“We need to get you to a hospital.”
“Do you need to go to a hospital?”
“That’s not supposed to bend that way.”
“Do you want me to look at it?”
“Don’t move, you’ll make it worse!”
“Stop moving!”
“There’s so much blood.”
“I’ll see if I have a first aid kit.”
“Just… Stay here and I’ll get help.”
“How did you even do this?”
“This happened in a fight?”
“Walk it off.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“I think you need stitches.”
“You dumbass.”
Injury
“I think I hurt myself.”
“I can’t feel my __.”
“I think my __ is broken.”
“Shit, that hurts to move.”
“I don’t think I can get up.”
“I’m going to try to get up.”
“Can you go get help?”
“I need help.”
“I think I’m going to pass out.”
“I don’t think there’s supposed to be that much blood.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“I got [shot, stabbed, etc].”
“I can’t walk.”
“I don’t think I need to go to a hospital.”
“I think I need to go to the hospital.”
“Stop laughing, this hurts.”
“My last words better not be stupid.”
“That was a dumb idea.”
“Shit, that burns.”
“I’m fine… really.”
“Damn, I can’t get the bleeding to stop.”
“I got into a fight…”
“I feel lightheaded.”
“It hurts to move.”
“Can you look at it for me?”
“I’m not all about speed. I’m about determination. And I’m never giving up.”
Made with help from @technoheart
//Holy chit I still remember how to log into this blog.
“Sometimes it’s even the smallest things that trip us up. Like shoelaces and my feet.” He offered as he led her towards is lab, “Come on that’ll get cleaned up and you’ll be on your way.”
He’s got plenty of supplies hidden in a medical kit ready to be refilled to Baymax. “Take a seat.”
“If you say so,” she wasn’t all that talkative, but when was she ever, really? She took a seat with his urging and started the process of peeling her hair away from the cut. It wasn’t necessarily bad wound wise; it looked much worse than it actually was. She waited quietly.
There there Gogo, “Come on it’s not that bad. You’re bike might survive yet. Just let me clean you up and then I’ll help you clean this up.”
“It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just embarrassing. I don’t even know what happened,” she sighed and let her hand press to her brow, feeling along the cut that had apparently split across her forehead from the initial collision. She remembered a bike suddenly turning right in front of her, then everything went dark.
“It still needs to be cleaned up no matter what it is. You can always come back to the bike later.” He’s worrying about you, let him help you Gogo.
A mumble grumble about a dumb hat about stupid bikes on the sidewalk suddenly bouncing into the lane later had her jamming her fists into her pockets and shoulders hunched as she approached the older Hamada as though a scolded child.
“Right, You’re uh… parking job include blood or is that red paint?” You know the good thing of making a Nursebot, means he had plenty of things to help clean those scrapes.
“.....”
“It’s motor oil?” she wasn’t the best at lying when it came to that, but the blood on her forehead wasn’t exactly helping her case. Even if she wore a helmet, it didn’t appear to help.
“It looks like you crashed no offence, want an extra hand?”
“I did not crash!”
“I merely missed my parking spot,” by a wall. And a parking meter.
“... It’s not what it looks like,” okay, it was far worse than what it looked like, yes, but at least she was trying to clean up the rather large mess of her bike.
“Afraid of you? Really?”
Not exactly what Hiro would have expected as a confession from a princess. Now that he thought about it, however, she wasn’t all that princess-like to begin with. The attire, for one, was something of a dead giveaway. Not to mention the lack of the usual giggling and simpering Hiro was accustomed to from other noble women.
Those all were pluses in Leiko’s favor. The young prince had a certain degree of appreciation for royalty that went against the grain–heavens knew he and Tadashi were guilty of such, with their nightly prowls as masked vigilantes through the city. Being wanted by the royal guards, no less! That always did have him snickering to himself.
“Why would they be afraid of you? I’d rather talk to you than the other princesses who visit Asmar.”
“Yes, afraid of me. Most usually are,” her palm rose to perch her chin as she watched the younger prince across from her. He didn’t seem startled so much as intrigued by her state, which she supposed she would prefer to simply being gawked at and chided for her choice of wardrobe, or personality for that matter. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, which also put her on the backend of most royal dealings, though his sentiment wasn’t lost. “I am the only princess of four princes. My eldest brother passed away recently, and the family Advisers are worried that it’ll look poorly if I don’t find a husband and have children as quickly as possible or something. They fear that the kingdom will forget I’m actually a princess. Though I don’t see what the big deal is, really. It’s a skirt and a corset, what are clothes to a person’s stance on the state of their people?” she sighed and closed her eyes with a lopsided brow. She couldn’t win when it came to her extremely traditionalist family, “Most men fear what they don’t understand. More so when a woman can beat them in a duel, or can do things mostly reserved for the less-fair sex just as well as they can.”
