#twoiinthehand

[staticonthestratosphere]

doctors: ✔✔ mob bosses: ✔✔ left-handed: ✔✔

GOD I literally don't have anything but insane ramblings for how much I love these two together: something something, 'I never thought I could see myself reflected in someone else, with all of my flaws and damnation'

credit for her dr. crane @king-crane and dr. rosemary j. paolazzi from one of my million other blogs @twoiinthehand

[twcfaces]

[HAIR]: in the process of pushing the receiver's hair back from their face, the sender lets their hand rest against the receiver's cheek a moment longer. (from Ro)

What's up, doc?

It was only a matter of time before someone shut Harvey Dent up. He'd gotten too close - he'd taken on the Falcones, Moroni, the half of the police force that was in the mob's well-lined pockets, and he'd done it all looking like a catalog model for a sportswear magazine. He was lauded. He was ridiculed. His work was immaculate, twice-checked, and it had cost him in ways he never could have imagined.

He spent the first few weeks after his assault completely unconscious, breathing through a tube - and that was the most merciful part of it all, the sedation that kept him from knowing the full scope of his injuries. He didn't know, and for a while, he didn't have to. He just had to live.

Now things were decidedly different. He was more often awake, albeit on enough painkillers and antibiotics to turn the stomach he could no longer take food into - hard to do without a proper mouth - and he did feel pain, acute and terrible, for what seemed like an eternity. Her hand felt cold against his cheek, which felt overly warm to him, and his remaining eye searched her face. He couldn't recall if he'd seen her before or not. It was a blur. The bandages stuck to the heat of his skin.

His hand had grabbed her wrist. Not hard, but desperate.

"Can I see - underneath?"

[corvidamned]

@twoiinthehand | continued Her independence was a poor deterrent against his touch, but it's the only way she was going to get any work done without being too wobbly in the knees by the time they got home. Such a concept was immediately thrown out the window when he kept making noises like that, and Kira pouted on it until he made his choice. She received it and turned it over with a turn of her wrist. "It's big and beautiful." She blinked her big brown eyes down at him and broke into a small smile.

"Waste not. As long as there are no worms, I'll take some bruised ones for pie." She pinched a little fingernail mark on his apple to distinguish it from others, placed it at the very bottom of her bag, then went to town collecting a few apples at a time. Exhausting this section, she came down at last and shifted her step stool over to the other side of him. In close quarters, she ascended above him with a cheeky smile.

[corvidamned]

🍎go apple-picking [from Lu~]

Just barely below his shoulder in height, Kira lugged around her own foldout step stool and a light canvas tote around her shoulder. Among others who've paid to pick freely from this orchard, she walked with her beloved until she spied a handsome tree with plenty of fruit. She sets up her assistance and climbs to pick out a perfect Honeycrisp apple, wide and bulbous and red. She immediately hands it off to him. "My love, for you."