#and yet i am bound to bed for the sake of Elevating The Limb
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probably will be FORCED by Pomp And Circumstance to go to the CLOWN HOSPITAL, for a CLOWN INJURY (may or may not be An ALLEGEDLY Fractured Foot...a MOURNFUL MALADY incurred in the most PATHETIC and LAPSIDAISICAL Fashion of TRAGICALLY UNFASHIONABLY Events......
Anyway. Forgot what I was saying. Buy me 1/25th of an x-ray or whatnot I guess
#ASK ME#ASK ME HOW I ALLEGEDLY BROKE MY FOOTSIE BONSIES!!!!#shall come up with a different answer EACH time and they shall ALL be curious concerning and browraising#no but really ASK ME i have SO. MANY. ANSWERS.#(the actual answer isn't even mundane if anything it is...Up There.)#(my personal curse is the inability to give a straight answer Even And Especially when the actual accurate answer is funnier!#sometimes the actual truth of the matter is funnier! life just works like that occasionally!!!#and still it is my duty--my god calling--to decieve#anyways an object fell on me or I fell on an object. that object maybe or may not be a planet. or may or may not be an undisclosed oblong.#or both. or neither. mind your business before i suck your tax evaded beeswax right under you#...i May be slightly loopy on the adrenaline aftermath of (ALLEGEDLY) breaking some damn bones#I'm cranky and i want to hobble to the kitchen to Procure some Frozen Breakfast Food#and yet i am bound to bed for the sake of Elevating The Limb#I Am Basically Tantalus Do You Comprehend I Am Tantalus I Am A Tortured Mythological Figure And You Are Standing By Like Impotent Cupbearer#s#YOU ARE AN IMPOTENT CUPBEARER AND I AM PROMETHEUS SCREECHING AS MY INNARDS ARE WOVEN INTO STATEMENT ART#......motherfricker my ice pack is leaking
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Chapter 11
(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-stylesâ)
Harry X OFC (AU)
Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.
Read previous parts here.
Authorâs note: Heyyyyyaaaaaaa. Iâm going to be honest with yâall. I have not been working on this story like I should have since I started posting. That being said, I do have a few more chapters completed but then things get a littleeeeee fuzzy bc Iâve been slacking. Iâm going to try to keep up with the posting schedule I have rn, but if that doesnât work out, please forgive me. I may need to pause for a few weeks to stack up some more chapters. BUT CROSS YOUR FINGERS I GET MY SHIT TOGETHER. As always, please like and reblog and leave me an ask if you can. :â) When youâre done reading, I would love for you guys to go find a petition you havenât signed yet. All of my love. Xx
Melody still had nightmares. Horrible ones. Awful, haunting dreams that pressed at the edges of reality, blurring lines between sleeping and waking. But they somehow became less constant and more bearable within the next few weeks. Whether it was due to Harryâs constant, tender touches as she fell asleep every night, or to the ugly, unartistic paintings and incoherent writing sheâd forced out, there were no clues. She thought Harry deserved the credit, but he thought it could be a mix of both.
Early snow dusted the city like powdered sugar, lightly enough to look pretty without making traffic a mess. Melody felt the cold dampen her mood, but Harry only seemed to brighten at the prospect of a blizzard warning. Snow dazzled him. Despite everything heâd experienced in his relatively short life, somehow winter had always remained a sort of sanctuary for him. And heâd softened himself toward everyone as a result.
âUgh, do I have to go?â Melody asked aloud when she reentered the bedroom to find him laid out on her bed. He looked so cozy and warm in a pair of sweats with his hair mussed atop his head. She bent over him to plant a chaste kiss to his lips.
âNo,â Harry said, âyeh donâ.â
She smiled ruefully and stole another soft kiss from him. âYes, I do.â
âYeh donâ have to. Could stay here with me.â
âHarry.â Melody accepted his return kisses as he sat himself up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress.
âMelody.â He ran a thumb over the curve of her chin and sighed.
âI need to go. Please, be nice to Bea.â
âAlways am.â
âSure you are.â She pressed her lips to his one final time and let them linger a few moments too long, until she felt his fingers sneaking around the back of her neck. If she let him touch her too much sheâd end up late to her own match. âOkay, Iâm leaving,â she insisted as she backed away. âIâm going. Bye.â
Harry watched her slip out of the room, collecting her gym bag on the way. He was relieved that she hadnât told him she loved him. Every time he heard the words on her tongue he felt his very organs shift, felt them contort and fold in on themselves. He would never, ever tell her the way it made him feel, but he hoped that eventually, when he still wasnât saying it back, she might just let the sentiment die. Wishful thinking, perhaps.
âLetâs go, Harry!â Bea called from the living room.
He sighed as he rose to his feet and lumbered out of the bedroom, his cane clicking on the hardwood. The door to the apartment closed before he made it past the threshold of the room. It was only him and Bea left. There was still an awkward air between them, but it was beginning to thin. Harry thought it was because of his help with Melodyâs nightmares. He didnât like the idea that Bea had ever thought heâd be useless in a situation like that. He didnât like that doing the bare minimum to comfort Melody had somehow made Bea more open to him.
âYou donât look enthused.â
âI donâ like to bullshit,â Harry responded.
Bea grinned. She patted the cushion beside her and waited for him to sit. She didnât seem bothered that he sat farther from her than necessary.
âArenât you wondering what weâre gonna watch?â Bea asked.
Harry shrugged. âNot really.â
âWhat if I picked a chick flick?â
âThen Iâd just fall asleep.â
âYouâre not falling asleep tonight,â Bea stated. âWeâre watching The Silence of the Lambs.â
Harryâs lack of reaction seemed to deflate her. She clicked a button on the remote and the opening credits of the film began to roll.
âI have no clue how youâre with someone who writes and paints,â Bea murmured.
âIf yeh figure it out, let me know.â
The pair lapsed into silence as the movie started. And didnât even exchange a glance when Queenie appeared, curling up on the cushion between them.
Bea paused after a bit to take a call from Josie and microwave a bag of popcorn, and when she returned she found her cat sprawled across Harryâs lap, purring loudly, much to Harryâs chagrin. She had to consciously stop herself from spitting out laughter. Instead, she sat back in her seat and slid the bowl of popcorn into the spot that Queenie had abandoned.
***
âThat was fucked up,â Harry eventually said, when the end credits of the movie had been rolling for a few minutes.
âYes.â
âHe wore the guyâs face.â
âHe eats people. I feel like thatâs the more fucked up of the two.â
Harry shook his limbs, as though he could expel the disturbing parts of the movie from his memory. Queenie, who hadnât moved since she settled into his lap, took unkindly to his movement, stretched to the floor, and bounded into Beaâs bedroom.
âGlad Melody didnât watch this one.â
Bea drew in a deep breath and shook her head. âMelody loves scary movies,â she informed him. "But thatâs because she knows theyâre not real. Sheâs notâItâs different when you live it, right?â
Harry fell silent. Whether she agreed or not, he was the one that had dragged Melody into a horror film of her own. Now she could barely sleep in her own bed because of his brother. And he didnât know how else he could help, how else he could ward off the monsters.
âSpeak of the devil,â Bea said as she caught sight of Harryâs phone, where it buzzed on the coffee table. âMelâ was spelled across the screen. Harry leaned forward to answer the call and bring the phone to his ear.
âHi.â
âHey, man.â
Seanâs voice sounded muffled and uneasy. Harry felt himself stiffen almost immediately, and his body language conveyed something to Bea. She unfolded her legs to place her feet flat on the floorboards.
âWhaâs wrong?â
âWhy does something have to be wrong?â
âBecause yehâre callinâ me from Melodyâs phone and yeh sound like yehâre about to get in trouble. Donâ fuck with me.â
There was a brief hiccup of a chuckle on the other end of the line. It was a nervous sound. Harry didnât like it one bit.
âUh, she lost her match.â Sean cleared his throat before he went on. âSheâs about to get an X-ray of her torso done right now. Iâm sure itâs justââ
âFuckinâ Christ, Sean! Yeh couldâve led with that.â Harry was already on his feet, reaching for the arm of the sofa to keep his balance when he realized he was forgetting his cane. He doubled back and waved off Beaâs desperate vie for information.
âSheâs probably fine!â Sean defended. âI donât think she broke anything or she wouldâve been a little more hysterical.â
âFor fuckâs sake. Iâll be there in fifteen.â
Harry hung up before Sean could respond. âSheâs gettinâ X-rays at the hospital,â he spat at Bea, who was following him around and demanding to know what was going on. âMight have a broken rib or somethinâ.â
So much for this strange bonding experience that Melody had insisted on. It felt more like something sorority sisters might do on the weekends than anything else, anyway. And Harry didnât wait for Bea as he hobbled down the complex stairs, struggling into a jacket while supporting himself with his cane. But somehow she ended up in the cab with him, and their mutual silence felt unifying.
***
âFloor two,â the woman at the lobbyâs desk said. Harry was already crossing to the elevators, so she nearly shouted the room number to him. Bea, despite being in perfect health, had to rush to keep up with him. Her curls bounced with every hurried step.
âHarry, Iâm sure sheâs okay.â She tugged the zipper down on her jacket as they waited for an elevator and tried to catch her breath. This felt like exercise, and Bea hated exercise. âNot that you shouldnât be worried,â she continued, âbut donât act like sheâs on the brink of death. Sheâs used to injuries.â
Harry snorted humorlessly. Melody didnât know what injuries were. She told him once that sheâd never been to the hospital for herself. It was always a cousin giving birth or her father getting stitches. She had never split her skin open far enough to get stitched up herself, or been hit so hard that her insides were bleeding, or snapped a bone.
There was a musical ding as an elevator reached the ground floor. Harry didnât wait for the family on it to exit before he shouldered past them and jammed his thumb into the button for the second story. Bea was more patient. She allowed everyone out before she stepped in beside Harry and watched him smash the button to close the elevator doors. It was almost endearing to see him so concerned, but it was also too intense for her tastes.
There was no elevator music to lull the pair of them. They waited in silence until they reached the floor that Melody was on and then navigated through the halls quickly until they found the correct room number. Sean was just inside the door.
âAh, I thought youâd gotten lost orââ
âFuck you,â Harry snapped as he stepped past his friend. Melody was laying in a hospital bed. This setting was so familiar to Harry, but with the roles reversed, it felt like he was having a nightmare of his own.
âYou donât have to be rude to him, you know,â Melody muttered.
She had an awful, swelling bruise on her forehead, so close to her temple that it couldâve made Harry sick. She was in a sports bra, and for the first time he noticed Vanessa, who was meticulously wrapping up Melodyâs ribcage.
ââS not broken?â was the first thing Harry said.
âNo,â Vanessa answered.
âBruised.â Sean took a step forward, trying to insert himself back into the conversation that he had been ejected from. âShe was doing really well and thenââ
âI donâ wanna hear from you,â Harry interrupted. Melody rolled her eyes. Sean sighed.
âFine, I guess Iâll go home,â he said. âIâll let Goodman know youâre out for at least a month.â
Melodyâs eyes widened and when she moved, the pressure on her ribs made her flinch. âA month?â
âAt least,â Sean repeated.
âItâs a bruise.â
ââS a bruised rib, Melody,â Harry snapped.
Sean left without any goodbyes. Bea leaned up against the wall where heâd been standing and lifted an eyebrow. âThought you had defenses like a brick wall,â she teased.
âShut up,â Melody mumbled as Vanessa finished her work. The room fell silent.
âDo you want some ice for your face?â Vanessa asked eventually, when Melody had been avoiding everyoneâs eyes and the rest of them were sick of looking at each other.
âNo, I can justââ
âYes, sheâll take some ice,â Harry cut in.
âYou tend to interrupt people,â Melody informed him. She laid back gently against the pillows that had been propped up behind her. âHave you noticed?â
Bea snorted. âPretty sure he does it on purpose,â she said before wandering out of the room. Vanessa glanced between Harry and Melody and then followed Bea. The tension that had already filled the air seemed to thicken, settling over the two of them like an unnavigable fog. Harry sliced through it first.
âThis is why I donâ want yeh fighting,â he said.
âYouâre such a hypocrite, Harry,â she muttered. Then her voice rose. âIf you were still in the ring youâd be getting injured, too. And Iââ
Harry ignored the sting that he felt, the knowledge that he couldnât box in his current condition. What if she wasnât able to write? These days it seemed just that she didnât want to, but if she wasnât able to, wouldnât she feel this same sort of despair? âMel, yeh bruised your fuckinâ rib.â He took a step further into the room. âA little more pressure and it breaks. A little less luck and it punctures a fuckinâ lung and yehâre chokinâ on blood. These are not just injuries. Yeh didnâ just fall off a bike and scrape your knee.â
Melody paused. She didnât know how to respond. That sounded like her own fears spit back in her face. A half inch to the left and that bullet wouldâve killed you.
âAre you going to keep yelling?â
ââM not fuckinâ yelling. Do yeh want me to yell?â Harryâs brows knitted together and he shook his head. âWhat did yeh expect, me to lay down next to yeh and tell yeh âm so glad yehâre okay? âS not happeninâ. Think Iâve made my feelings pretty clear when it comes to this.â
âActually, I didnât expect anything. I didnât want to call you.â Melody licked her lips as she studied the anger etched into the lines of Harryâs face, and then the minuscule shift as he realized that Sean was on his side. At least in this moment. âIt comes with being a boxer,â she said after a pause. âYou told me that once.â
Harry sighed. âYehâre not a fuckinâ boxer, Mel. Yehâre a writer. Yehâre a painter.â
âI can be whatever the fuck I want to be, Harry. And youâre not going to tell me what that is.â
His features hardened for a moment and then he glanced out the window. There was snow falling, slowly and gently, without the force of the brutal wind that would arrive in the coming weeks. It was so peaceful out there, and Harry wondered how heâd let himself become so resentful.
He stared outside for a few long minutes and then let his eyes wander back to Melody, who was already picking absentmindedly at the wrappings of her ribcage. His legs were growing weary and he was on the verge of needing to sit. Melody glanced up when she felt the weight of his gaze.
âCan we go home now?â she asked, and her voice was so soft, so at odds with the way sheâd spoken her last sentence, that Harry could feel himself physically jarred by the shift.
âI canâ help yeh walk,â he said, though the words tasted like acid. âYehâre gonna need Bea and I dunno where she went off to.â
Melody chewed on her lower lip. She felt guilty for the short argument theyâd had, and she could see that same feeling reflected back at her. The match had tired her out, her bruised rib hurt with every expansive breath. In vain, tears began to collect at the corners of her reddening eyes.
âDonâ,â Harry said, taking a shaky step forward. He could sense the shift even before he saw her chin trembling. âPlease, donâ.â
âIâm not, Iâm not,â she murmured, pressing her fingers to her eyelids, as if they could keep the water back like a dam. âUh, how was the movie?â
âIt was good,â Harry assured her, surprising himself. He hadnât known that he enjoyed it until then, when he was put on the spot. Bea appeared like sheâd been summoned.
âI heard that!â she nearly shouted. âHe liked it!â Then her eyes fell to Melody and her snide grin tipped into a frown. âWhy are you crying?â
âIâm not crying,â Melody said with a discrete sniffle. âCan someone ask Vanessa if we can leave?â
âShe said you just need to take it easy for a few weeks.â Bea shuffled past Harry and pried Melodyâs hands from her face. âWhich means no training.â
âPerfect,â Melody mumbled. She allowed Bea to begin shifting her out of the bed, gently twisting her limbs, trying not to tweak her rib. Harry had to lower himself into the chair a few feet from where he had been standing to give his legs some relief.
âThe wraps are just for you to get home.â Bea paused as Melody bit back a whimper, waiting for her to straighten her torso. âAnd sheâs hooking you up with some pain meds.â
âYehâll need âem,â Harry muttered. He stood back up as the girls made their way toward the door. They were a conspicuous group, with a cane, a wrapped ribcage, and shuffling footsteps. Eyes followed them through the halls, all the way to a cab.
***
Melodyâs lips grew white as Harry helped her out of her wrappings. She screwed her eyes shut and her fingertips curled into his knee.
âOkay,â he whispered as he tugged the final loop of fabric loose, leaving her skin bare. The sight of her flesh made him hiss. âWho the fuck hit yeh, the Hulk?â
âMmm.â
Harry pressed a hand to her cheek. Her skin was hot, damp, and he could feel her jaw twitching, like she might be grinding her teeth. Her breathing was shallow.
âLetâs get yeh some oâ those painkillers, yeah?â
âNo, Iâm okay,â she whispered, though her voice shook.
âMel.â He pressed a kiss to one of her closed eyes. âIâve had a bruised rib before.â
She didnât respond. He heard her try to take a deeper breath and then felt her neck quiver beneath his fingertips. She shook with the effort of stifling a cough.
âDonâ do that.â He pressed her backward and she gasped, clinging to his arm and letting out an agonized sob at the sharp intake of breath. ââM sorry,â he rushed. âLove, âm sorry. Just sit back for me.â
She let him lower her away from him, eyes still squeezed shut and chin beginning to tremble like it had in the hospital. Her eyelashes were wet and Harry touched his forehead to hers. âOkay?â
âNo.â
He let out a short huff of acknowledgment and then lifted the pillow from beside them, holding it tenderly to her chest as he leaned back. âIf yeh need to cough just hold this to your chest. âS still gonna hurt but itâll be better.â
There was a pause before she wrapped her arms around the pillow and sputtered out a few gentle coughs. Her eyelids fluttered, nails biting into her palms, lips curling into her mouth.
âMelody, yeh donâ have to pretend yehâre not in fuckinâ pain,â Harry told her, pressing a hard kiss to her cheekbone. He brushed hair away from her forehead, carefully avoiding her bruise, and then used his thumb to pry her lips back into place before kissing them. âNot on my account. âM sorry I got angry. I donâ want yeh to fight. But if yehâre hurtinâ like this âm not just gonna tell yeh to suck it up.â
Harry stroked her ear and her tensed facial muscles began to relax. Her lips parted. She opened her eyes to glance up at him and almost immediately let them fall closed again as she began to cry.
âOkay, okay,â he mumbled. He didnât know whether it was for her or for himself. And he didnât know if her tears were solely from the pain or for another reason entirely.
The mattress shifted despite his best efforts as Harry climbed off the bed. He hurried into the kitchen, gathering Melodyâs prescription, a glass of water, and an ice pack. He almost didnât even realize heâd forgotten his cane until he was laying himself down beside Melody, who had pulled the pillow up to cover the bottom half of her face, stifling her shallow sobs. But this wasnât a moment to celebrate.
âAll right, love, take some oâ these.â He shook out a few pills and reached across her for the glass heâd put on the night table. She lowered the pillow enough to toss the meds back and swallow a gulp of water, but Harry had to tug it from her grip so he could position the ice atop her angry, swelling bruise. Somehow, heâd finagled her bra over her head before attempting to unwrap her, and her breasts erupted in goosebumps at the cold touch.
âIt fucking hurts,â she whimpered out.
âI know, I know.â Harry settled his hand over the ice pack, pressing his lips to Melodyâs shoulder. âGive the pills a little bit oâ time.â
He fell silent and stroked her wrist with his free hand until her tears began to ebb. The clock read one in the morning. Bea had gone to bed as soon as theyâd gotten home because she needed to work on a group project the next morning. Harry was beginning to feel tired himself, and he couldnât imagine how exhausted Melody was.
âJust one problem after another,â he finally said. âJust canâ seem to catch a break, can we?â
âWouldnât life be so boring?â
He chuckled against her skin. âJust a little break would be nice, though.â
Melody didnât respond. Her shallow breathing was beginning to slow. Harry kissed her cheek to check that she was truly asleep before he removed the ice pack from her side and very carefully covered her with the sheets. And he hoped that the rest of her healing would pass more smoothly than this first night.
Chapter 12
#harry styles#harry styles writing#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles drabble#harry styles series#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x ofc#boxer!harry#boxer!au#harry styles au#harry styles ferocity
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âI Feel Fine.â part 1
context: This story takes place in mine and @lvlur original universe âPower Enabledâ where having powers are a norm but the group are still of a minority in total. Dominique is a former villain who has stopped after his last major fight with his now ex who is a hero. (Dominique Oshiro is a 31yr old 6 ft bisexual man with prosthetic legs. he has dark black hair and green eyes, his genetic decent since i havenât decided fully what his face looks like yet is Japan, England, and France, his father being Japanese English and his mother being French) Happy reading (will be edited later)
Dominique had been settled back at his home for a few months now. He rubbed his stand in prosthetics, the ones that made him feel normal when he could not use his prefered robotic ones. He wheeled himself away from the window of his large apartment and turned looking to his empty house. Erin, his precious daughter, was with her mother this week as per the child custody agreement. At the door were boxes filled with mostly clothes that were far too big for the stature of the man in the chair. The downtrot man made his way over to the boxes and picked up a white shirt stained with colored icing, it still smelled of sweets and breads. The sad demeanor in his eyes flared into a rage as his grip on the shirt tightened. After a moment his nerves settled and he placed the now wrinkled shirt back and moved himself away to roam the rest of his home.
Dominique had gotten use to so much sound bustling around, his daughterâs laugh, the snark of his private nurse and friend. A more recent addition however, the bellowing notes of a man singing songs from a land far off. He didnât think the new sound would be gone as fast as it appeared. He moved to the stairway his eyes tearing at the thought. âWhy am i crying?â the thought to himself as he began to move himself onto the strange elevator like contraption that would take him to the next floor up. âItâs not like heâs dead! He left, he left me! He isnât worthy of tears!â After a painful minute of going up the stairs he rolled himself onto the carpet of the second floor, wheeling his way into his room, he passed the bed and into the master bathroom. He stopped to look into the mirror that covered half of an entire wall. He was a mess. Once upon a time that mirror sported a man who stood tall with advanced prosthetics hidden under fine dress pants as he prepared for days of meetings in various hospitals that his family either owned or worked with. Now what was there was an unkempt mess of what was once a proud man who barely had the energy to change his T-shirts and just covered his useless legs with an old blanket. He rubbed at the thick facial hair that had grown. He normally kept a clean shave but had lately given up on the idea since he wasnât leaving all that much anymore. He stopped and looked around the bathroom again forgetting why he came in here to begin with. Eventually he gave up on remembering and went back into the bedroom.
After getting to his bedside he grabbed onto the sheets and dragged himself out of his chair. The old blanket that once covered his legs fell to the floor. Once his bottom had settled he sunk into the california king. Â His vision was laid onto the false limbs; appendages looking like they belonged to a crash test dummy.
His eyes shifted to a large black case leaning on the nightstand. He gave an aggravated huff. â10 monthsâ he thought with a growl in the back of his mind â10 months and they still say i canât use my legs.â he gave an audible groan before falling back onto his mattress âI feel fine.â he said aloud if for only himself to hear it. After a long pause of just watching his ceiling fan spin he twiddled his thumbs, his own words repeating in his head. âI feel fine. I feel fine. I feel fine.â An un ending barrage of his own reassurance. He shot up from his bed again a fiery rage burning in his eyes again. He reached to the unfeeling plastic and detached them from the metal socket that would rest a few inches where his knees once were. He flung them to the side and repeated aloud. âI feel fine!â he reached for the black case, that damned black case that had been taunting him since their return home. He set it to his side opening it slowly, like the contents could explode from their settled place. He looked in seeing the sleek metal he remembered fondly he touched his hand to it like he was reaching out to an old friend. He was careful. First removing the assigned right leg he gave it a quick once over, taking note to remove the kneecap to see the battery was still full. To his delight it was. He carefully aligned the leg before he started to freeze up. This wouldnât be like those mannequin legs that he slapped on for the sake of the illusion. These were real, in a sense.
He gave himself an adjusted wiggle as he gripped the base of the metallic limb with both hands âI feel fine.â he repeated. âIâve done this for eight years this is nothing now.â he said lying to himself.
With a sharp breath and a grit of the teeth he plunged the leg into its place. He doubled over into his own lap keeping a tight grip of the metal as he recovered from the shock of his nerves connecting threw the complicated electrical system his cousin had made. What felt like an hour was merely five minutes when his body finally started to relax again, his white knuckled fingers slowly releasing their grip. He gave out gasps as if he had been holding his breath for the entire time, and he may have. He wasnât sure what had been going on in that elongated fraction of time other than what he wanted. He looked to his right leg again looking out of place next to the void of his left. He gave an audible gulp as he moved his hands to grip the sheet at either side of him. He slowly raised his leg up and a crooked smile fell on his face. He rotated the ankle and moved the singler âbig toeâ followed by the movement of the solid piece meant to be the other four. He slowly put his foot down. He could feel it, not the carpet, but the movement. To have the thought to be able to lift his leg was great to have again.
Now the next one. He reached into the case, just as careful with his matching left leg though his skin noticablly paler then when he had grabbed the first, his face had far more confidence than before. He repeated the process. Examining the work, checking the battery and preparing it to be in position this time having to move his right leg to be out of the way. With another sharp breath the words bound across his mind âI feel fine!â and he gave a hard tug. His body convulsed as it did with this first but it only took two minutes for him to regain control, though not for what he would have hoped. A new phrase burrowed into his skull as he felt his stomach start to bubble âIâm not fine!â Using his right foot to push him off, he leapt towards the bathroom sliding in front of the toilet face looming over the seat as he hurled up what little breakfast he had managed to have that morning. Heâs knees settled onto the maroon shag rug under him.
After a few shaky breaths his pushed himself from the horrid sight of what once was once lovely looking plate of assorted fruits. His bottom resting on the cold tiles as he took deep breaths âcould have been worse.â
#power enabled#dominique oshiro#erin oshiro#depression#prostetics#writing#original work#i started off writing mchanzo fanfiction i dont know what happened
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