#frozen shoulder exercises at home

[roshni99]

जब से फ्रोजन शोल्डर से परेशान हैं? डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू लाएंगी आपके लिए विशेष व्यायाम टिप्स, जो की स्टिफनेस को कम करने और आपकी मोबिलिटी को पुनः प्राप्त करने में मदद करेंगे! 💪✨ 🔍 फ्रोजन शोल्डर एक्सरसाइज़ क्यों? फ्रोजन शोल्डर आपकी दिनचर्या को प्रभावित कर सकता है। डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के विशेषज्ञ व्यायाम से आपको आराम, लचीलापन और शक्ति वापस करने में मदद मिलेगी। 👩‍⚕️ डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू से मिलिए: वर्षों के अनुभव के साथ, डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू एक प्रमुख फिजिओथेरेपिस्ट हैं जो आंगनवाद के माध्यम से जीवन को सुधारने के लिए समर्पित हैं। उनके सुझाव आपको दर्दमुक्त, सक्रिय जीवन की ओर मार्गदर्शन कर सकते हैं। 🌈 अपने कंट्रोल में लें शोल्डर स्वास्थ्य! 👉 *देखें और सीखें*: डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के अनन्य व्यायाम शिक्षण का लाभ उठाएं। 📚 *खुद को शिक्षित करें*: फ्रोजन शोल्डर के पीछे विज्ञान को समझें और सार्वभौमिक स्वास्थ्य सुझावों की खोज करें। 🔄 *ज्ञान को बाँटें*: दूसरों को बढ़ावा देकर समृद्धि की ओर बढ़ें। हम शोल्डर के स्वास्थ्य की समृद्धि का समुदाय बना सकते हैं! 🔥 कॉल टू एक्शन: फ्रोजन शोल्डर की सीमाओं से मुक्त होने के लिए तैयार हैं? अब ही डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के आंदोलन में शामिल हों! 📌 उनके पृष्ठ को नियमित रूप से संपर्क करें: khushboomattoo@raphacure.com 🚀 अभ्यासों में समाहित हों और शोल्डर के मुक्ति की ओर अपनी यात्रा शुरू करें! 💡 **जो इसकी आवश्यकता है, उसे टैग करें! मिलकर, चलिए हम फ्रोजन शोल्डर से मुक्त होकर और गति और शक्ति के जीवन का स्वागत करें। 💪 #शोल्डरस्वास्थ्य #DrMattooकेसाथस्वतंत्रता #शोल्डरमुक्ति" 🌟"व्यावसायिक समर्थन और आवश्यक साधनों के लिए हमारे मोबाइल ऐप को डाउनलोड करें: 📲 Android: http://bit.ly/3JACQOb 🍏 Apple: https://apple.co/3I0QKbe हमारी वेबसाइट: www.raphacure.com यहां से ऐप डाउनलोड करें और अपने व्यावसायिक और स्वास्थ्य आवश्यकताओं का समर्थन प्राप्त करें। एक सुरक्षित और सुचना-पूर्ण अनुभव के लिए हमारे ऐप का उपयोग करें।" frozen shoulder exercises,frozen shoulder treatment,frozen shoulder exercises at home,frozen shoulder exercise,frozen shoulder physiotherapy,shoulder frozen treatment,shoulder pain relief exercises,frozen shoulder recovery,how to treat frozen shoulder,sukoon physical therapy,dr varun wasil,frozen shoulder pain relief,shoulder pain relief,shoulder mobilization techniques,frozen shoulder stretches,swami ramdev,baba ramdev,ramdev,yog guru,yog,yoga

[mudisgranapat]

FitnessInfluencer!Reader x GymBro!Ghost

so i’ve recently really gotten into going to the gym and i can’t stop thinking about Ghost working out and reader being an annoying influencer that is always recording at the gym. the last thing he needs is a camera in his face when he is trying to work out and de-compress from his deployment.

After finally finding a 24 hour gym, you get your things ready to film your content. Your youtube channel is one of the most popular nowadays, and it’s the platform where you make most of your videos. Most of them teach people workout series, ranging from stuff they can do at home, hardcore exercises and even a step to step guide on how to use each gym equipment, so newbies don’t get scared of training for the first time by themselves. However, sometimes, you do some vlogging on the side, showing your daily routine and other things, like skincare.

You figure 3 am is a good time to go to the gym and record - no one is at training by then and your schedule is already fucked anyways. Not having an office or regular work hours has its ups and downs, but at least you are in charge of own routine, since you make a surprisingly good amount of money from your videos.

You take your own time, making a protein smoothie (and obvioulsy recording it, as you had a paid partnership with the supplement’s brand) and writing down your ideas for the video you want to do today. You stick to a simple “leg day” vlog, typing on your phone what machines and reps you want to do.

Choosing a simple purple top and matching leggings, you make your way towards the gym on your Range Rover, Stanley cup filled with water on the cup holder. You roll your eyes as you make a turn and can feel the water dripping out of the cup. You make a note to yourself to bring a water bottle the actually works next time and keep it off camera, so the useless cup can just sit on frame for aesthetic purposes while your record.

If you had to point out one thing you hated about your job, it would be having to keep up with all the (in your opinion, useless) trends, so you could reach a bigger audience. At the end of the day, it was about making money, although you loved how your content got to inspire people to be more active. If it meant you had to carry a metal 40oz lead poisoned cup with you for a couple of hours, then so be it.

As soon as you park your car at the gym’s empty parking lot, you pull out your vlog camera, not noticing the single black truck parked in the far corner, under a tree.

Sometimes you wonder if you would hate your “vlog persona” if you met her in real life. Repeating the same phrases over and over again, trying to get the best take, constantly looking for better lighting. What looks good on camera, in real life, just looks painfully awkward sometimes, specially when you are talking to an audience that isn’t even there. You push those thoughts to the back of your head, as you slide your card at the gym’s card reader, opening the doors.

“Anyways, guys. I know it sounds crazy right?” You make your way into the gym, re-recording the introduction at least 3 times so you know you’ll have good material to edit later. “Training at 3 a.m. I don’t even know if it’s technically morning or night right now.” You joke to the camera. “Let me know in the comments if I should start the videos with ‘Good morning’ or ‘Goodni’-“ a hand suddenly grabs the camera from your hand, holding it right above your head. You stare at the man who seemed to materialise out of the shadows.

“How about ‘Goodbye’.” He says, and you barely have time to register his sarcasm as he slams your camera on the floor, breaking it in pieces. You stand there, frozen, while the man swings his duffel bag over his shoulders and heads out of the gym.

When you finally regain your senses, he is long gone, and you’re left wondering to yourself, not only who he is, but also who does he think he is. You barely had time to register what he looked like, simply recalling we was well over 6ft tall and build like a fucking tank. But regardless of his built, if he believes, even for a second, that he can do something like that and just walk away unscathed, he is dead wrong.

You can’t wait to see him again.

A.N: wrote this with my eyes literally closing, but i just couldn’t get it out of my head (sorry for any mistakes, def not proofread). hopefully it’s not complete shit. let me know if you want to see more of this! i could see this becoming either a short series or at least having one more part. Let me know if you want to be tagged if this has a part 2 :)

[cemeteryspider]

DCeased: A New Hope

Dick Grayson x Jean Grey! Pregnant! Reader

Summary: In the midst of a world ravaged by the Anti-Life Equation, a grieving telepathic hero must protect her unborn child and find hope in the remnants of the Bat-Family, while forging a path toward a future worth fighting for.

Trigger Warning: Loss, Grief, Violence, Gore, Emotional Trauma, Pregnancy,

Word Count: 1.7k

Lying on your back, you practiced the deep breathing exercises Leslie Thompkins’ midwives had taught you during your frequent visits, all at Richard's insistence. You complied because you knew this baby would be your and his entire world. So, deep breathing it was. One hand rested just above your belly, the other on your chest, guiding your breaths through your nostrils to raise the hand on your belly and blowing out through your mouth.

You loved that Dick wanted to be near you at every possible moment. However, his constant tossing and turning as you tried to ignore the splitting headache was too much to bear. Eventually, you made him leave the room. That was a while ago. Alfred had just brought you a fresh washcloth for your forehead when you heard a commotion downstairs.

Alfred rushed down immediately at the noise, but it took you a moment to regain your bearings and waddle toward the living room.

At the bottom of the stairs, you froze, staring in shock as your husband, who had been so gentle only an hour ago, was now desperately trying to scratch and bite Alfred and Bruce. Almost out of nowhere, Tim managed to sneak up on Bruce, tearing a chunk out of his arm.

"Dick?" you whispered, frozen in horror as your husband noticed your presence and began to advance toward you.

He was too close for comfort, and it was clear he wasn’t the man you had sent out of your bedroom. One hand instinctively covered your stomach while the other shot into the air, a blue glow holding Nightwing back.

"Run!" Bruce shouted, and as quickly as possible, you bolted down the stairs into the Batcave just as Alfred stabbed both Tim and Dick with a machete—one of the many weapons hidden around Wayne Manor.

You stood behind Alfred and his shotgun, staring into space as Bruce spoke to Superman, discussing his plan to save the world and mentioning something he had for Damian. Before the Man of Steel arrived, Bruce explained to you and Alfred that he wasn’t going to make it, and that Damian, you, and your baby were the future of the family if you couldn’t find the others.

The briefcase in his hand was for Damian, and Alfred was given direct orders to get it to him. You were shocked. You were losing your entire family in the span of a few hours, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

There was nothing to do but watch as, despite Mister Freeze’s suit, Bruce eventually succumbed to the virus coursing through his veins. Alfred ended the call to Damian before shooting Bruce in the head. You turned away, cowering behind Alfred.

Normally, you wouldn’t be afraid of a little blood, but in the past few months, you had slowly started to edge yourself out of the fray. You stopped going on patrol and stopped helping Dick train the Young Justice team, staying behind at the cave doing intel and comms, making sure the Bat-Family would live to fight another day. After all, you were going to be a mother soon, and how could you be out fighting crime at night with a baby at home? If Dick needed to keep fighting, then so be it, but if anything were to happen to him, your baby would still have you.

Now that worst fear is coming true. Dick's lifeless body lies upstairs as you tremble on the ground, unable to keep everyone's thoughts out of your head. That’s when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you started to come back to reality.

"...breathe, Ms. Grayson, breathe. That’s right, breathe." Alfred was looking you in the eyes, and slowly you returned to the present. You managed to keep all the extra voices in your head out, for the time being.

"Will you be all right, Ms. Grayson?" he asked, truly concerned about your health.

"Yes, thank you, Alfred. I’m better now," you said, taking deep breaths as Alfred walked back into the manor.

He dragged the bodies of Dick, Tim, and Bruce down to the Batcave to say a proper goodbye, with Superman’s help. You knelt beside Dick’s masked body, holding his hand in yours. "How am I going to do this without you, darling?"

A strong hand clasped your shoulder. "It's time to go," Superman said, helping you to your feet. Alfred stood a few feet back, offering his hand to help you into the Batwing. As the jet lifted off the ground, your eyes remained on your dear husband until he finally disappeared from view.

You made it to Metropolis, where the rest of the heroes were gathering with little worry. However, that calm was shattered when an infected Giganta started booming toward the rooftop filled with your allies. Alfred started firing missiles at her while you tried to control her sweeping movements with little success.

After a few missiles, she punched the Batwing out of the air, catapulting you back into your seat as it began hurtling toward the ground. Desperately, Alfred flipped switches and pulled controls, trying to stop the plane’s freefall.

But you took control, enveloping the ship in your familiar blue glow, safely landing it on the roof adjacent to where the surviving members of the Justice League stood.

"Father?" You caught a glimpse of Damian running toward the broken and battered Batwing as Alfred helped you out of the wreckage.

"Damian, I am so sorry, son," was all Alfred could say as he opened the briefcase on the concrete roof.

With sad eyes, he looked up to you. "Dick?"

You shook your head, and in an instant, Damian’s arms were around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight embrace. You held him close, knowing that Dick and Damian had a special bond. Damian was like a little brother to you, and you felt his pain so deeply and sincerely.

"Everything will be all right," you sniffled as he pulled away and went over to Alfred, who showed him what was in the case—a brand new Batman costume, meant for Damian to wear.

You saw Superman and Wonder Woman fly off, and after a shaking boom crumbled the city around you, Black Canary—now Earth’s new Green Lantern—saved the top of the Daily Planet, where the survivors were.

Over the course of the next few days, Wonder Woman, Superman, Superboy, Flash, and Kid Flash severed the internet connection across the entire planet.

After a week, you helped the new Batman, Green Arrow, and Green Lantern get to Gotham unharmed, only to see a massive jungle surrounding what used to be your city.

"Oh, Ivy," you said, running into her arms as soon as you saw her. Your team, the Birds of Prey, had frequently assisted—and been assisted by—Poison Ivy to the point where she was basically a member. When you got pregnant, she made you different tea concoctions to soothe your aching joints and painful migraines.

"Thank the stars," she whispered, holding you closer. "I was afraid that the virus had gotten you too."

"Why’s that?" You worried about what she was going to say because the look on her face was anything but reassuring.

"Catwoman, Huntress, Batgirl, and Batwoman attacked us, Sugar Bear," Harley said, giving you a big hug and looking down at your belly. "I told Auntie Ivy not to worry, that your mama would nevea let anythin’ happen to ya."

You chuckled at Harley—some things never change, even in an apocalypse.

"Pamela, we’re looking for sanctuary for survivors," Damian cut the reunion short, and Ivy barely gave him a second glance.

"Oh, that."

"We’ve already started this conversation."

Ivy eventually agreed, as long as you would stay in her safe haven and that there would be rules and screenings for those who were let in.

You agreed because both Ivy and Damian said it would be safest for you and your baby in Gotham. Which is ironic, seeing as just last week you and Dick were looking at schools outside of the crime-ridden city.

The magically protected jungle would keep anyone who was turned out, therefore keeping everyone safe. You asked Damian to stay as well, but he said the world needed him.

With the strongest hug you could muster, you said goodbye to Damian, who said it wasn’t goodbye, that he would see you again soon.

~~~

You hadn’t expected to see another living member of the Bat-Family until, during a rare moment of sleep, your radio crackled with Ivy's voice.

"Hey, there’s someone here I think you’ll want to see."

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you glanced over at the crib only a few feet away. Your son was sound asleep, his little mouth open, showing off his gums.

A smile tugged at your lips as you carefully placed him in the baby wrap on your chest. His striking icy blue eyes and gummy smile were a perfect reflection of his father. It almost made you laugh. "Come on, hun, I suppose there’s someone we need to see."

Your baby let out a soft laugh, making you smile as you descended the stairs from your apartment to the ground level. Outside, children were running around, listening to Poison Ivy reassure them that they were safe within the confines of her jungle.

Harley waved at you enthusiastically and pointed toward a statue where a man in a brown leather jacket was standing, staring at it.

Your brows furrowed in recognition, and you started walking toward him. "Jason?"

He quickly turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes widening as he saw you with your baby in your arms. "You’re alive?"

Jason approached you cautiously, his gaze fixed on the little one in your arms. "And who might this be?"

His hand brushed against his eyes, wiping away tears that threatened to spill over. "Jason, this is Richard Bruce Grayson. Richard, this is your Uncle Jay."

You carefully slipped your baby out of the wrap and placed him into Jason's stiff arms. At first, he held the child at arm’s length, unsure and hesitant. But when Richard began to giggle and gurgle hysterically, Jason brought him close, holding him tenderly.

"He looks just like him," Jason murmured, his eyes never leaving your baby. "A Boy Wonder. A new hope."

[pineappleciders]

ayo can i request a male (or gn if you prefer) adult reader adopting tweek, butters and kenny? bc i love those kids but they all deserve much better parents than the ones they have in canon.

masc adult reader adopting tweek, butters, and kenny (and a bit of karen)

A/N: i've never gotten to do a male reader b4 so i'm glad you asked!!!! these r kinda separate to keep it simple, also reader is referred to as dad :)

TRIGGER WARNING: SA and abuse mentions, drugs (obviously)

tweek tweak

first things first, you start weaning him off the coffee. you still give him smaller doses for awhile just to keep him stable and with no withdrawal

if you send him to rehab, he'd definitely be a little scared. so you pack his backpack and lunch and pat him on the head and send him off, telling him to text you if he needs anything

he's always coming into your room in the middle of the night gripping his pillow and pulling his hair.

"dad, the gnomes! t-they're back, AGH!"

"tweek, i thought we went over this..."

it can be a little difficult to calm him down sometimes, so you two practice breathing exercises in case you aren't there to help him

he carries around a little card keychain that you made for him with comforting words and grounding techniques. he carries it everywhere and attaches it to his bookbag!!

you put the coffee pods on the highest cupboard shelf so he can't reach them. he hasn't tried to reach them (as far as you're aware)

you try to smooth down his hair and brush it out but it somehow always pops back up. also his hairline is fucked. so are his teeth. he's a little fucked up in every way but you love him anyways

butters stotch

with butters, it's apparent that negative discipline is not the route here. you instead opt to use positive reinforcement when he obeys and does stuff right

you're not a pushover by any means, but you are a lot less strict than his biological parents.

he gets a little confused sometimes when he doesn't get shouted at or blamed for something he didn't do. like he walks in the door expecting to get yelled at but you just hug him and ask how his day at school was

he's really glad he can actually have friends over now. his friends are always commenting on how cool his new dad is compared to his old one

butters has learned to not talk about his trauma and past. he was always taught to bury it deep down and never mention it to anybody. so when he randomly blurts out how his uncle molested him at dinner, he's confused when you look horrified

he loves to play sports in the backyard with you!!! his old dad never really spent time with him, so he has the absolute time of his life playing ball with you. it becomes one of his best core memories

he likes to draw with crayons a lot so he always draws pictures of you and him like under a rainbow or something and you always hang it up on the fridge. you're quickly running out of room for his art

kenny mccormick

as soon as he gets home and you give him the OK to eat he is eating everything in your house

turns out it's really difficult for a 9 year old to properly grow on a diet of frozen waffles and dust bunnies. you're shocked when you're preparing his bath and he's a lot skinnier and shorter than the other kids

honestly if u adopt him then you have to adopt karen too. and kevin if you want. but preferably karen.

nothing makes kenny happier than knowing she's sleeping in a warm bed with a full stomach. it's just a bonus that he is too!!

like butters, he loves to play sports with you. specifically catch and baseball. he also forces you to play barbies with him and do a high-pitched girl voice

loves to fall asleep in your lap/in your arms. like he'll fall asleep mid-piggy back ride and just snore on your shoulder

always flexing on cartman that now that he isn't the poorest kid that cartman is now. cartman hates u for it

always wants a sip of your morning coffee and waits for karen to finish her food before finishing his. it's a force of habit and it's kind of sad but also really sweet

[izvmimi]

cw: reader has a curse that confers disabilities. hurt/comfort. nanami and reader are roommates and friends from high school. pregnancy mention.

your alarm goes off as it does every day, 9 am sharp, and before your eyes creak open, you prepare for the consequences of your actions the night before sucking in a deep breath. the thick sensation in your throat is familiar - the cloud that shrouds your lips is as familiar to you as a sudden, annoying pimple on the morning of a date.

but when you open your eyes and are greeted by nothing but pure darkness, the realization that for once you bit off much more than you could chew sets in, guiding you into a silent scream -

because this time, not just your speech, but your sight is also gone.

your heart thumps frantically in your chest but the rest of you is frozen stiff as you try to comprehend this new reality. the lightless expanse before you is more like an unmoving static when you force yourself to concentrate, and you can still move your eyeballs, you can blink, if you pinched yourself, and you are pretty sure you could cry if you tried, but waving your hand in front of your face gives you nothing. you sit straight up, and exercise the remainder of your muscles, trying to determine the extent of what mirai-shourai took from you this time. you can still move. you can still hear the rustling of your over-starched bedsheets as they rub together and the sound of your work computer humming; you can still feel the edge of your mattress with your fingertips, the soles of your feet planted on the ground as you try to make your way off your bed.

you can still feel your orientation in space.

you try to get up to standing, and you trip over your own two feet. you need to smell something, taste something, make sure that you haven't been deprived of anything else, but you crash to the ground instead, and you find that you can feel that, blooming pain in your face and jaw as you hit the ground instead of breaking your fall, your hand slipping on fuzzy slippers. you can taste blood trickle from your split lip; the thud is loud but you can't call for help.

it's just past 9 am and nanami is probably long gone.

your heart is racing again, panic impending. how long will it be? where is mirai-shourai? it whispers the severity of its punishments usually within just moments of you waking up but you haven't heard any sign of it or the familiar pressure of the spirit (demon really) on your shoulder. will this be forever, you wonder?

the durations of your sanctions have been getting longer recently... but this, being blinded, is new.

it's terrifying to you.

how long can you sit here? you wonder. stumbling around your home until nanami returns from work. what if he decides not to bother you tonight? what if he's preparing for a mission and won't return home? what if your phone rings and you can't find it?

your head spins as you crawl on the floor of your bedroom, your face still stinging and throbbing, until you find the wheels of your desk chair and carefully pull yourself up. you need to sit, and mercifully you make your way onto a chair without further falls, managing to steady yourself, palms pressed to your desk.

the cloud swells in your throat as your anxiety mounts and it gets harder and harder to breathe.

was it worth it?

you think of your friend's smile as you presented her with a sketch of her yet to be born child. electric blue eyes like her father, round cheeks like her sweet mother, deep dimples you could practically stick a finger in - the picture of health and joy.

it was worth it. it was worth it, you tell yourself again. your fingers tent on the desk surface. this too shall pass, this too shall pass, you chant to yourself, and yet the crushing fear is starting to set in.

what if your eyesight never comes back? what if the inability to speak is permanent?

what if, what if, what if-

"___?"

nanami is still here.

you turn, but again you can't see, and you're unsure where your gaze is directed. eyes probably unfocused as you move your head in the source of the sound, you can hear his footsteps approach, soft thumps on hardwood floor. if you call out his name he won't hear you; you have to wait until he reaches you, instead.

the door creaks open, and you can hear him stand still in the entryway. you can practically feel him hold his breath as he takes you in - you must look awful.

he doesn't ask you if you're okay, just moves, and soon, you can feel the roughness of his palms on your face, even if his touch is gentle. you can imagine his perpetually serious look, concern softening the angles of his face.

what if you never see him again either?

"what happened?" he asks.

you sign, i can't see. you can tell your hands shake as you communicate, but try to hold it together. what do my eyes look like kento?

you hear him breathe through his nose, but he's let go of your face by now, and you realize you miss the grounding sensation of another set of hands.

"they look wrong but they're there," he says. his voice is quiet, tense. "how long?"

i don't know.

you can hear his frustration. you wait for him to scold you but he doesn't.

do you have work today? you ask, hopeful.

"when i make a couple of phone calls, i won't."

you swallow, shame starting to consume you before you even ask for his help.

i don't want to inconvenience you.

"you already know i hate that job. you're giving me a reason."

this somehow makes you laugh, and although you make no audible sound, you hope he can tell that you're laughing, but then tears just as quickly stream down your face.

you rub them away and his hands return to cupping your face, thumbs lightly pressed on the space just below your eyes. you imagine he's trying to look at your face, study the curse like he's always tried to, to figure out the answer to your sudden blindness.

i'm sorry, i'm so needy.

"don't be sorry yet, i haven't promised to do anything for you," he hums.

it's true. he hasn't made any promises to you yet. with that statement, you can feel his presence shift.

"what do you want for breakfast?" he asks.

you shake your head, even though your stomach will probably start growling just a few moments from now.

"don't be difficult," he replies. "i'm hungry, make a decision so i don't have to make more than one trip."

yogurt. vanilla, you decide.

he pauses.

"how confident are you that you won't make a mess?" he jokes.

you pout, and you actually hear him chuckle.

"i'll be right back."

---

hours pass. nanami has helped you make your way onto your bed. mirai-shourai has been merciful, and you'll be able to see by the time the sun sets, to speak by tomorrow morning. soft music plays, and you're thinking about the things of the glimpses of the future that you know, and those that you don't know.

your friend's baby will be happy and healthy. you don't know when you doze off until you wake up, and the fact that you still can't sleep is still jarring, but you remember just as quickly that it will be temporary. you are thankful.

hopefully one day you'll be free of this curse, but at least you can dispel the worries of your loved ones in exchange for this inconvenience. for that, you are so, so thankful.

Ken? Are you still here?

he probably is long gone you think, and you are signing to no one, but you can hear him again from your left side, the turn of a book page reminding you of his presence.

"Yes."

something swells in your chest.

thank you for putting up with me.

you can hear him exhale from his nose sharply.

"Where else would I go? it's not like i can't afford to live anywhere else."

you smile, turning to your side and reach out a hand aimlessly. you expect him to ignore it, but you can hear the roll of the wheels of your desk chair, and your hand finds a place to rest on his shoulder, lingering for a moment. your head moves to replace it, and he guides you there in kindness.

you don't have to ask him not to leave.

[wannaeatramyeon]

vasco jake goo and gun having a s/o thats always tired and doesn’t like talking to people in public?

*you can obv ignore this if you want!! i just wanted to rq something because i love ur writing 😭🩷*

Babe I know I sound like a broken record but I truly am sorry for the delay! Thank you for requesting and the kind words!

Lookism with Tired, Introvert S/O hc

G/N. Vasco, Goo, Jake, Gun

Vasco Tabasco

This little cinnamon roll is unfortunately worried about you. A lot. To the point it can get a bit annoying but it is only coming from a place of love. Bear that in mind please before you snap at him and he pulls the saddest face ever.

Introverted he can deal with, to an extent. He doesn't care if you don't like talking to people in public as long as you like talking to him.

You being quiet takes a little getting used to but as long as he knows (and he will over time) that you can speak to him about anything and that you just usually don't have much to say to other people, he really doesn't mind.

Tiredness is a whole other issue that Vasco will try to fix. Sleep schedule, diet, exercise.

Yes yes, you falling asleep on his shoulder and him staying frozen for hours until you finish napping is adorable. Though to be honest, being tired all the time isn't healthy, so it's fair that he does want to figure out why.

If it's stress or school/work pressures, then Burn Knuckles may or may not get wind of this. They also may or may not threaten your teacher/boss to stop working you so hard.

...It works!

But come back and fall asleep on him please. Feel free to use him as a pillow. He absolutely loves it.

Goo Kim

Goo chases adventures, goes wherever his whims and urges take him. This idiot is an energy sapper himself. If you are sleepy and low energy all the time...

Sorry babe. Umm. Good luck with your relationship!

Don't like talking in public though? No fucking problem. Goo talks enough for the both of you. He can handle the conversation if you're not up for it. Don't worry about it!

Arm around your shoulder, tucking you into his side - he'll just talk and talk and talk until the other party is bored. You're welcome, by the way.

But if the other person is really persistent. If they really want to talk to you (and how can Goo blame them, you are a cutie after all), then he'll give one of his warning smiles, glasses glinting.

And if they don't get the hint and still keep talking. Words prodding you for a response, Goo wouldn't mind politely telling them to get fucked.

He'll even throw hands for you, if that's what you want.

...Actually, it doesn't matter. It'll be fun to beat someone up regardless.

"What do you mean Cupcake? No fighting? You want to just go home?" Pouts. "Hmph, fine."

Jake Kim

Jake has charm coming out of his ears. Like Goo, if you don't like talking to other people in public? That's fine. He'll feel you tense, the way you grip his hand slightly tighter and he'll lead the conversation on your behalf.

Unlike Goo, the other person will barely realise what's happening but will enjoy the new steer (Sorry Goo-fy).

After all, not many can resist Jake's smile and appeal. People want to be him AND be with him. That is an undisputed fact.

Before they know it, Jake is waving bye to them, and you and him are on your merry way. The other person doesn't even mind because. Frankly. Jake Kim is fucking cool. "Huh. Maybe I should join Big deal."

Jake is a little worried about how tired you are all the time.

This big fool can barely look after himself but he makes sure that you get a good rest, your home is as stress free as possible, he makes you tasty nutritious meals. What a great malewife. Damn. You are lucky.

The worry is offset by how adorable you are falling asleep on him.

On his shoulder, in his arms, head resting on his lap. Whenever, wherever.

He doesn't even mind your snores or your drool, it makes you all the more endearing to him.

Gun Park

Ok there's a trend here. Gun will also worry about your tiredness.

Seriously, why are you tired all the time? He can't keep an eye on you 24/7 and doesn't want to either. Really, you should take better care of yourself.

In fact, Gun will make a quick call and you are suddenly booked in the next day for a full check up with the best doctor this side of South Korea.

Falling asleep on him was cute and novel the first few times. Especially the way that you're comfortable enough to just relax and drift off with him. It got old pretty quick though.

Gun will bridal carry you to bed and continue on with his day. If you stir awake and ask him to lay down with you? ....Fine. Whatever he wanted to do wasn't that important anyway.

This may or may not be a lie. He always finds it difficult to say no to you.

Don't like talking to people in public? Gun can relate. He doesn't like wasting his breath on nobodies neither.

He has no issue just blanking them and walking away from the conversation, arm around your waist and tugging you away too.

Sure you may feel rude, but you're grateful for Gun's curtness. Both exchanging a small smile as the other person is left gasping at his audacity.

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 8

SLEEP DEPRIVATION | forced to stay awake / Chopping & Piling Wood

The light of the moon glinted off of Yuu's axe as they struck the wood again.

The night was frigid, and Yuu felt like the longer they were out here, the more they froze, even with all of the exercise they were doing.

By now, their hands were completely numb, the only sense left being the pain that shot up their wrists with every strike of their axe. The cold had seeped all the way into their bones, and Yuu wasn't sure the blood was even pumping in the tips of their fingertips anymore, frozen in their knitted gloves.

Their stiff fingers rung hollowly against the unforgiving wood, but Yuu knew they couldn't stop. They had a mission, and a person to save.

Despite the cold, Yuu felt their shoulders burn as they lifted the axe again. Sucking in a subzero breath, hoping the cold would keep them alert, they squeezed the handle and swung it forward one last time.

After a sickening moment, Yuu heard the trunk of the tree crackling, and the thin, hardy pole finally went down.

Yuu watched it crash into the snow, branches ricocheting off the ground, and wasted no more time as they picked back up the axe to divide the trunk into smaller chunks.

The change in angle meant gravity was on their side, and Yuu's strikes got a little bit stronger. It was still tedious, difficult work, however, and the weather was only getting worse.

Malleus was getting worse, too.

Examining the partially divided trunk, Yuu realized they weren't going to be able to take all of it with them. Even with the wagon they'd brought, Yuu would have to chop up the rest to ensure it was covered up by the snowfall they were praying for.

Yuu bit their lip, but stopped, tasting blood. Their skin was so dry, any little disturbance split it open.

They got back to work, making sure no branch would poke up high enough to be suspicious. Finally, after arranging the snow a bit to help cover their own tracks, Yuu loaded up their wagon with as many logs as they could take, and started on the long way home.

Their toes had now frozen solid, and, like their hands, all they could feel was how much each step hurt. They tried their best not to drag their way through the snow, in an attempt to minimize their tracks, but thankfully, halfway through their journey, it began snowing.

Unfortunately, with the snow came the wind, and the blades of ice started to cut mercilessly into Yuu.

One of the gusts shoved its way between Yuu and the tail end of their scarf, knocking it off their shoulder and exposing their cheek to the frost-bitten night. They were at the point where Yuu debated angrily in their head for several minutes whether it was worth moving one of their arms, even for a moment, to shove it back into place, and risk losing a buildup of body heat, to allow the flames of their own quarrel to keep them warm.

On snowy nights like these, Yuu didn't even have the moon to guide them, relying on instinct and the painful strain of their eyes searching the darkness.

Yuu didn't know these woods well enough to be able to identify minute changes as markers of direction, but finally, they saw a familiar jagged rock and knew they were headed in the right direction.

Unable to feel the handle of the wagon with their frozen-solid hands, Yuu only noticed it was slipping away when their arm felt lighter. Their hands felt like they were shattering as Yuu flexed their fingers, trying to return to them any level of circulation so they could grab onto the wagon's handle again.

They knew they were so close. Yuu motivated themselves with thoughts of a roaring, sweltering fire, if only they could keep walking.

By the end of that walk, though, the only thing Yuu wanted was a glass of water.

Their throat was unbearably parched, but scooping up the snow from the ground would surely freeze them solid. Still, Yuu's throat felt as though it was parchment on sandpaper, and they hurt just ducking under the rock pass.

Finally, Yuu stumbled into the hiding place they'd found with Malleus- a derelict old cottage whose entrance was inexplicably buried under a tunnel of rocks and boulders.

This meant that, despite its seclusion, it had a chimney, and Yuu scrambled to shove their loot through the front door and find the matches, throwing the logs harshly into the fireplace and lighting a flame.

Yuu lit one of the drier logs, ensuring that the fire began to feed off the wood.

It felt like their tears had frozen out in the wilderness, as Yuu cried with no other prompting into the fire.

A shadow moved in the corner of their eyes, and Yuu knew it was Malleus unfurling as he searched for the heat of the fire.

"Here, let me help you," said Yuu, and shoved his little fainting couch across the rotting floor with a screech towards the fireplace to let Malleus feel the full force of the warmth, letting his body temperature return to something survivable.

The study abroad trip to Krokusand hadn't been going the best so far. Sam's "big summer blowout" deal on the trip had resulted in them going in the dead of Krokusand's notorious winter.

A spell from a vengeful mage looking to avenge her homeland had resulted in the seperation of the study abroad group, but had caused additional unexpected side effects in Malleus- namely, his reversion from mammalian warm-bloodedness to reptilian cold-bloodedness.

It was a near-instant death sentence in a place as cold as this one. Malleus's condition had deteriorated rapidly, unable to survive at such low temperatures for long. Once they'd found the cottage, Malleus had almost drunkenly explained that he feared he was on the verge of brumating, a state in which he fell into a deep sleep to conserve energy.

Malleus explained that he did not know what the consequences of being thrown into brumation so harshly would be on his body, but he knew they would not be good, and so, Yuu was charged with the task of ensuring Malleus state alert.

It would only work for so long. Finally, it became clear that help was not coming fast enough, and Yuu had to plead with Malleus that he would try his hardest to stay awake while they went off in search of firewood.

And, against all odds, they'd been successful. Malleus draped himself across his fainting couch, bunching up his blanket under his head so he could lie more comfortably.

Yuu's hand snaked up to hold onto his as they moved a kettle with half-melted snow closer to the fire, having anticipated the need for water before they'd left.

They knew they had much to discuss, more plans to make, but at the moment, all the pair could do was stare at the fire, and melt into each other.

[meowjaa]

✧ levi having a massive crush on y/n ✧

a/n: some cute little ideas like sort of scenarios BUT I CAN JUST IMAGINE THIS TITLED "levi having a massive crush on y/n for 5 minutes" like one of those type videos but heres a bullet list of those anyways enjoy my loves <33

After seeing Y/N trip over nothing, Levi sarcastically asks if she's ever considered trying out for the ballet.

Y/N catches Levi reorganizing the bookshelf for the third time that week and teases him about what a "fun Saturday night" he's having. Levi says at least his idea of fun doesn't involve belting out 90s pop songs drunkenly at 2am like SOME people…

Levi "subtly" fixes his hair for the fifth time before Y/N arrives and denies doing any such thing when she points it out.

When Y/N stretches and a sliver of her midriff shows, Levi tries and fails to keep his eyes forward, earning a smirk from Y/N.

Y/N finds Levi's search history full of questions like "What does it mean when you can't stop thinking about someone?" and "How to get a girl to notice you."

After Y/N falls asleep on his shoulder during movie night, Levi stays frozen in place long after the movie ends just to keep her there.

Levi "coincidentally" shows up at the cafe where Y/N is studying and claims he had no idea she'd be there.

Y/N jokingly asks Levi to help her move some furniture. He shows up in a full suit and tie wanting to make a good impression.

When Y/N has a girls' night out, Levi not-so-casually asks what she's wearing and who all is going.

Levi visibly tenses when Y/N laughs at another guy's joke, crossing his arms and sulking.

When Y/N gets scared during a horror movie, Levi immediately wraps a protective arm around her without thinking.

Y/N teases Levi for meticulously sorting his book collection by color, author, and genre. Levi retorts that at least he has a system unlike SOME people's messy shelves.

When Y/N comes home with a new haircut, Levi awkwardly compliments it, saying it's "suitable" and "appropriate for your face shape".

Levi not-so-accidentally schedules cleaning sessions whenever he knows Y/N will be exercising in tight leggings and a tank top.

Y/N notices Levi fidgeting to fix his already perfectly straight cravat before their weekly tea time together.

After Y/N beats Levi in training, he spends the rest of the day obviously sulking though he denies doing so.

Levi reorganizes the kitchen cabinets to "maximize efficiency" but really it's just an excuse to be around Y/N more.

When another soldier gets too friendly with Y/N, Levi suddenly needs to discuss urgent "military tactics" with her.

Y/N laughs at Levi's claim that he's ordering a new cleaning supply for "sanitary reasons" when it's the exact brand she mentioned liking recently.

Levi stumbles over his words trying to casually return a handkerchief to Y/N he noticed fell from her pocket earlier.

When Y/N comes back from expeditions outside the walls, Levi does a full inspection of her gear asking about every tiny scratch and scuff.

[catboycumgutters]

so i experimented w giving myself a rest day from physical therapy this week. i thought, maybe i need a little recovery cushion. still did my daily yoga, so, i figured i wouldn't really notice a difference. rest day was yesterday.

holy hell there is a difference. a bad one. oh my god. i'm so rice krispies today. oh my god. ow. owowow. ow. why. fuck fuck ow. i still did all my other stuff, just skipped the pt. why. ow. did you know we have shoulders and hips? bc i cannot be unaware of that fact rn. it hurts so bad guys. guys. guys it hurts. i need to return to the water like NOW it's the only thing that can save me

cruel that those home resistance swimming lanes are $50k (+god knows how much in maintenance and chemicals and electricity), my god. i could hobble out to the pool and put everything back in place and then float for a half hour and be fine but nooooo i've got all this fucking gravity weighing everything down and still not enough muscular stability to keep everything together while snapping myself back in, thus having to cycle snapping myself back together one joint at a time which usually takes hours and yes it's as painful as it sounds

had to crack all my knuckles several times, crunch my metacarpals together, twist my elbow in, and body my shoulder back in place just to type this post (and it's all locked in at the neck/jaw/temple now. hello tinnitus my old friend).

yes yes yes weed can help but i HAVE to exercise before getting couchlocked or else it will just exacerbate the problem. i have to do this dance of relaxing muscles enough to move but not enough to be too loose (waiting for the robax and gabba to kick in...). and then move in just the right way to fix them. and then somehow balance frozen vegetables all over to lock it in (hate cold hate cold hate cold). by myself. and if i can't? well then i'll just sob until physical therapy tomorrow and they can put it all back in for me. and what's nuts is!!! i'm one of the lucky ones!!! with physical therapists i see twice a week who aren't just gym trainers; with legal access to weed; in a situation where i don't have to have a job. no i don't have a vehicle; no i couldn't keep a job even if i had one; no i don't get disability or have any other income; yes those are huge problems. and yet. i'm lucky. hashtag greatest country in the world folks.

imagine joints like taffy. too cold and they're brittle and will break when you stretch them. too warm and they sag and tear. imagine finding out this isn't normal in your fucking 30s.

[bi0mass]

Never felt such a hunger, never felt such pain.

A short story/ long snippet involving a random human & a random endoparasitum. Just some scene/ writing exercise thing? Playing around with pov switching in-between each paragraph.

Content warnings: gore & death, slight body horror, as expected with my stuff.

Sorry for any mistakes, I'm tired in every way possible lately.

Words: 1722.

Leaves crackled and crunched beneath heavy boots, the only sound that James had been hearing for the past twenty minutes. Even for a late autumn night, the park was unusually silent. The absence of scittering nocturnal creatures was not unnoticed by the man, but he chalked it up to the fact that they were afraid of this predatory presence. He was at the top of the food chain after all.

Small, clawed feet briskly dodged every leaf as the creature that they belonged to followed at a healthy distance. Its yellow eyes were trained on the target, boring into his back like lasers. It didn’t typically see humans wandering around past sunset, so this discovery had been a delightful surprise. It had already decimated the deer and coyote population in the area, and had been feasting upon small mammals and birds to satiate its unyielding hunger. Its next move was to start hunting in human neighborhoods.

A lazy breeze swept through the wooded park, slipping in-between bare trees. James pulled his crochet beanie down further on his head, covering the tips of his wind-nipped ears. His daughter had made it for him last Christmas, and he was looking forward to seeing what she had planned for him for the next month’s gift. With him and her mother not doing the best in terms of getting along, he needed to make sure that she was supported in every way possible to prepare for their inevitable divorce. His brown eyes squinted at the thought of his decaying marriage, causing creases to form in the outer corners.

With the human male still completely unaware of its looming presence, it inched closer. He didn’t smell of chemicals or strange substances like the many humans that it had come across in the past. The thought of sinking its teeth into his healthy flesh, and tearing muscle and ligament from bone made it salivate. A trail of bubbling saliva was left in its wake, coating the dried leaves and dirt that covered the forest floor as it increased its pace. The chilled wind rustled the thick, assimilated pelt of its emaciated form, a harsh reminder of the changing seasons.

James turned the flashlight on from his phone, using it to guide him home. His daily walks usually didn’t take place at such late hours, but his shift had been longer that day, forcing his usual schedule back. The harsh air bit at his exposed fingers and nose, pushing him to walk more quickly in order to reach the warm embrace of his apartment. The streetlights ahead were finally starting to show through the gaps in the trees, but a single snap of a twig brought him to a halt before he could reach the edge of the woods.

A mistake was made, the clumsy slip of a foot. It snarled in frustration at its own carelessness. The hunger was too much, clouding its consciousness to the point of failure. Fortunately for the mimic, this human had frozen up instead of running like most prey did. The whites of his eyes glimmered wetly in the moonlight, and the rancid scent of adrenaline started to waft out in waves from the pores in his pasty skin. It slowly approached, head down, tall triangular ears drawn back. The black lips of its elongated snout lifted up, baring an unearthly sight.

Bile climbed James’s throat like a sticky worm, threatening to spill into his mouth. His lips were drawn tight, shoulders stiff. His phone was still clenched in one hand, but he didn’t want to have to use it out of self defense and leave himself in total darkness. He still had a ways to go before he was in the safety of the streetlights, and he didn’t know if there were more coyotes hiding within the shadows. His widened eyes flickered towards the beast, getting a glimpse of something that made his heart almost leap out from the safety of his ribcage. Coyotes were not supposed to have three rows of teeth.

Controlling its assimilated form was nearly impossible now, with the scent of its prey enticing the carnal hunger that burned its insides like a never-ending flame. The canine maw had turned into something unrecognizable, a kaleidoscope of flesh, and teeth that looked more like ossified needles. It could tell that its façade was over with the way that his eyes widened in its direction, and the increasing speed of his life-organ. He was nervous, and rightfully so. It wanted so badly to play with its meal, to edge every last ounce of fear from his mind, but it didn’t have enough patience for that.

As much as James wanted to sprint towards the road, his legs wouldn’t allow for it. They were cemented to the leaf-strewn path, completely frozen. His erratic heart was the only thing that dared to move. The blood rushing in his ears was almost deafening, and he started to feel dizzy. It wasn’t like him to let a scrawny animal cause this much of a reaction, but no matter how much he convinced himself otherwise, this was not something of this world. Whatever foul thing that it was becoming shouldn’t have been possible, but his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

Fleshy tendrils snaked their way out from underneath the tawny pelt, waving around in the chilled atmosphere. Their slick surface glistened in the dim moonlight, the tiny stingers on each end almost sparkling. Without a second thought, the mimic lunged forward, allowing its crooked teeth to root themselves deep in the human’s calf. He bellowed, frightening away the birds that had been hiding in the treetops. His rich blood poured into its maw, but it wasn’t enough, it needed it all. He tried to flee, causing a mouthful of denim to replace the erythrocytes in its mouth.

Pain like nothing he’s ever felt before surged through his body, but the pure fear in his chest worked like an engine to get him to safety. Warm liquid dotted the ground below as he quickly limped along, creating a sanguine trail for the snarling beast behind him. Its many-toothed jaws snapped at his ankles, and the sickening vines that grew from its back were being shot towards him like harpoons. After one too many glances back at the creature, James lost his footing, tripping on nothing but his own feet as he tumbled down to the ground.

The hunger was almost unbearable, but with one foolish slip of its clumsy prey, it was able to finally calm it, if only temporarily. Rows of needle-like teeth penetrated his injured leg again, hitting the bone within. A screech not unlike an angry fox pelted out from his throat, echoing off of the many trees that surrounded the two of them. He attempted to fight back, like all prey did, with weak kicks to its head, but it continued to hold on to its prize.

Its teeth felt more like shards of glass as they pressed further into his already injured leg. No amount of kicking and screaming scared it away, and instead, it seemed to attract it even more. The carmine tendrils grabbed onto his other leg and both arms, wrapping around each clothed limb like parasitic vines in an attempt to still his movements. They felt hot to the touch, and sickeningly moist. While smaller, the creature was stronger than he was, and held him down with an unnatural ease. His agony-induced cries were lost on deaf ears, but he couldn’t stop himself from howling out like a pathetic dog.

The human’s bellowing caused fury to grow deep inside of the mimic’s consciousness, fueling its carnal hunger. Its cone-shaped ears pressed flat against its assimilated skull as it began to chew. Its body mass was not large enough to completely envelope this prey, and he was covered from head to toe in inorganic materials, so it would have to settle for ripping and tearing the meat apart like many earth predators did. It furiously tossed scraps of denim aside, exposing more of his bare flesh. Goosebumps could be seen forming beneath his coarse body hair; a reaction to the temperature or itself, it did not know.

Hope drained from James’s mind, leaving any empty space for only despair. He had never once pictured himself at the mercy of another living thing, and he couldn’t help but feel embarrassment through all of it. Tears burned as they swelled up, eventually flowing down his reddened face like a broken dam. How embarrassing was repeated over and over in his mind, even as powerful jaws crunched through his tibia, and then his fibula. His limbs still fought against the fleshy restraints, but his attempts were growing weaker with every ounce of blood that painted the coyote-thing’s mutated face.

Each mouthful of sinewy meat torn from bone made the mimic lose even more of its composure. A few smaller tendrils emerged from under its blood-stained fur, whipping back and forth with excitement. The human’s cries had died down to pitiful groans. His limbs feebly twitched within its grasp, but there were no more attempts at fleeing. The thought of him even trying to get up made its biomass boil. The collective of cells moved beneath the false pelt like the waves of an ocean, bubbling it up in various spots; a scene that would have surely made the man scream, if he had the energy left for it.

Blood-tinged spittle oozed from James’s gaping mouth. His brain felt cloudy, his thoughts barely coherent, but he still felt things, right until the end. Immense fear, regret for not being able to see his daughter one last time, and the embarrassment that held on to the very ends of his frayed neurons. As his lips dried until they cracked, and his organs started to fail to due blood loss, his last thought was that he had never felt such pain.

Even with the copious amounts of flesh and viscera filling up its greedy biomass, the mimic still wanted more. It always wanted more. It would never feel full, not now and not ever. As it lapped up the remaining, sticky blood that had fallen onto the leaves and soil, its last thought was that it had never felt such a hunger.

And the cycle continues.

[roshni99]

इस रोमांचक दूसरे हिस्से में, डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के साथ कंधों की मोबिलिटी के दुनिया में डूबें! इस विशेषज्ञ व्यायाम टिप्स से फ्रोजन शोल्डर की समस्या को दूर करें और लचीलापन और बल को बढ़ाने के लिए डिज़ाइन किए गए व्यायाम योजना का पता लगाएं। इसमें से उन चर्चात्मक व्यायामों का अन्वेषण करें जो फ्रोजन शोल्डर को प्रभावी ढीला करने के लिए तैयार किए गए हैं। इस अवसर को न छोड़ें, गति के साथ चलने की स्वतंत्रता को पुनः प्राप्त करने और बिना दर्द के जीने की दिशा में इस यात्रा में हमारे साथ शामिल हों! 💪✨ #स्वास्थ्यऔरकल्याण #विशेषज्ञसलाह 💡 **जो इसकी आवश्यकता है, उसे टैग करें! मिलकर, चलिए हम फ्रोजन शोल्डर से मुक्त होकर और गति और शक्ति के जीवन का स्वागत करें। 💪 #शोल्डरस्वास्थ्य #DrMattooकेसाथस्वतंत्रता #शोल्डरमुक्ति" 🌟"व्यावसायिक समर्थन और आवश्यक साधनों के लिए हमारे मोबाइल ऐप को डाउनलोड करें: 📲 Android: http://bit.ly/3JACQOb 🍏 Apple: https://apple.co/3I0QKbe हमारी वेबसाइट: www.raphacure.com यहां से ऐप डाउनलोड करें और अपने व्यावसायिक और स्वास्थ्य आवश्यकताओं का समर्थन प्राप्त करें। एक सुरक्षित और सुचना-पूर्ण अनुभव के लिए हमारे ऐप का उपयोग करें।" frozen shoulder exercises,frozen shoulder treatment,frozen shoulder exercises at home,frozen shoulder exercise,frozen shoulder physiotherapy,shoulder frozen treatment,shoulder pain relief exercises,frozen shoulder recovery,how to treat frozen shoulder,sukoon physical therapy,dr varun wasil,frozen shoulder pain relief,shoulder pain relief,shoulder mobilization techniques,frozen shoulder stretches,swami ramdev,baba ramdev,ramdev,yog guru,yog,yoga

[mlmxreader]

Welcome Home, My Love | Farah Karim x genderfluid!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked: Reuniting after thinking of them was dead - farah x genderfluid!hijabi!reader

summary: Farah thinks the worst when there’s word of the training exercises going wrong, but she’s more than glad when she realises that her partner survived.

tws: mentions of death, swearing 

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You were so tired. Your bones ached and your neck stung, the soles of your feet were sore and your legs felt as if they would give out at any moment; you were so fucking tired. After spending so long on Col di Lana, you were about ready to give up; touching ground in Urzikstan, you didn’t feel much better. You were just tired, you just wanted to rest and call it a day; you just wanted to go home. You ached and you were sore, and as you hoisted your backpack onto your shoulder, you could feel the way your biceps trembled as they protested against any sort of movement.

The things you had seen on Blood Mountain would not leave you, you had not slept since it had happened; the avalanche that had killed so many. Wiped them from humanity and from the earth with one fell swoop of snow and ice; the battered bodies covered in snow, discoloured as their lifeless and frozen hands stuck up out of the ground. It was meant to be a training exercise, nothing more. But too many had died on that mountain; if anyone were to offer you money to go there again, you would refuse. 

You would never go back to Blood Mountain. 

The moment you saw a bench, you sighed with relief, and as dizzy and nauseous as you were, you managed to sit down, all but throwing your backpack down on the ground as you slumped against the hot wood. You couldn’t help it, lying down on the bench with your hands under your head, able to feel the soft fabric of your hijab as you sighed; letting yourself have some rest for once as you watched the other soldiers come and go.

They knew you well enough to not pay you much mind, they knew what you had just come back from, and they didn’t want to disturb you or cause you any unrest. You were grateful for that, more than anything. 

But your rest was eventually disturbed when Farah knelt in front of you, smiling sadly as she tilted her head to the side; with the sun at her back, it was difficult to see what colour of hijab she had been wearing. Usually, when you were coming home from training exercises or missions, she often wore a light blue one. You couldn’t tell this time, though.

“I know it’s difficult,” she said softly. “I don’t expect you to talk.”

You shook your head, dragging yourself upright even though your body protested against it. She sat beside you, her arm stretched across the back of the bench as she frowned. She was worried, and had every right to be.

“I thought you were dead,” Farah admitted quietly, shaking her head. 

You swallowed thickly. “I wish I was.”

She shook her head again, daring to cup your face with her free hand as she forced you to look at her. “Don’t say that.”

You crashed into her, your head on her shoulder as you sighed heavily and closed your eyes. “I wish I could’ve saved them.”

“I know,” Farah said quietly, rubbing your back gently. “We all wish we could’ve saved them… but it was not your fault, and you need to understand that.”

You sniffled, moving to lay your head in her lap; looking up at her, you could see that she was wearing her military hijab, and you smiled. “You forgot to change.”

She looked at you quizzically for a moment, and then realised as she shrugged. “I didn’t know you would be… I thought you were dead, my love. I didn’t know you would come home until I saw you get off the plane.”

“I’m so tired,” you whispered. 

Farah nodded. “You can sleep here, I’ll stay with you… oh, and, so you’re aware, me and Alex bought something.”

“What?”

“We got a genderfluid flag,” she explained, “he managed to find one that was small enough for the bedroom, and he helped me to hang it next to our pride flag… I know it’s not much, but it’s at least something to show we’re proud.”

You nodded. “I’m more concerned with Alex being in our bedroom.”

“I made sure he washed,” Farah joked. “And I cleaned everything after, as well.”

You dared to smile. “That’s okay, then… you know you don’t know where he’s been.”

She dared to laugh, glad that you were well enough to make jokes. “That’s true… we should get him a flea collar.”

“That’d work,” you chuckled. “Have you been alright, though?”

Taking in a harsh breath, she shrugged. “When I first heard about the avalanche, no. I thought my partner had died, for fuck’s sake. I thought you were gone and buried in the snow… and then I saw you getting off the plane, and I was fine.”

You took in a shaky breath as you nodded. “So you worry about me, after all.”

“I’ve always worried about you,” she pointed out. “My love, Allah brought us together for a reason - and it wasn’t because He thought you wouldn’t make me worry.”

You laughed softly. “Inshallah, we can have five minutes alone later on.”

“What for?”

“So I can sit down with you,” you yawned as you took her hand in yours, your thumb gracing across her knuckles as you smiled. “And we can eat… and we can be together again. As a couple.”

“Alex is going to see Price later,” she admitted. “So you can have me all to yourself for a few hours.”

“That’ll do,” you agreed. “I just wanna rest, and actually be with my girlfriend for once without getting interrupted.”

“I’ll help you cook,” Farah hummed. “You’ve been in Italy too long, I don’t trust you to make anything.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you grumbled, but then another yawn ripped through you, and you groaned and turned onto your side. “Can I use you as a pillow?”

“As long as you don’t drool on me,” she agreed. “I like these trousers, I don’t want your slobber everywhere.”

As you started to doze off, she carefully fixed your hijab so that it wouldn’t get caught on the buttons of her shirt, and she smiled down at you. “Welcome home, my love.”

[cevans-seb]

# stake your claim, now you’re taking it back

Pairing: Ari x Reader

Warning: short | angst | Ari is the worst type of husband | reader needs a hug and a therapist | I wanna make it sadder, so maybe I need the therapist

A/N : This is something I have been teetering with for a while now. I’m calling it rapid fire and till be short drabbles ( around a 1000 words or less) that’ll keep me exercising my writing without burnout. I must admit the frat AU is a lot more than I expected, but I write about it everyday with Andy’s chapter almost being finished.

Word count: 481

Prompt: I stay out late, hoping you’re asleep and I hate that when I come home you’re up waiting for me.

He was late yet again. The cold food rests  on the wooden table, untouched by both you and your husband. You tried calling him but after the fifth time, he seemed to have blocked you because it went straight to voicemail.  You sink deeper on the love seat, stomach growling as your muted tv lightens your darkened room. Reaching over on the nightstand, you pick up your digital clock that flashed at 2:35 am in florescent green lights, but you knew Ari had stayed out longer than that. Sometimes he’ll stroll in the next day, lipstick staining his shirts. You fiddle with your finger and wipe away a stray tear as you scrounge enough energy to put away your food.

You finally hear the door unlock as Ari steps inside, carelessly wielding his helmet. It used to be a tradition you both did with him calling you up after he left work for a joyride on his motorcycle, but there was never a destination in  mind, only two lovers traveling around town. But as work became overwhelming and frequent fights ensued, those dwindled-along with your will to fight for your marriage. Ari notices you and his shoulder slumps.

“shouldn’t you be asleep?” He gruff.

“I wanted to wait up and eat with you.” Your arms tightened around your stomach. “ I still haven’t eaten, actually.”

He blew out a snide chuckle. “ and whose fault is that ? I didn’t tell you to stay up for me. I never want you to stay but you do every fucking time.”

Ari, I want to spend time with you, but it seems like you’re never around anymore. I’ll call you when you’re at lunch and your colleagues would say that you’re in a meeting or you went out with another coworker. That’s fine if it’s only happened a handful of times but you and I both know that we haven’t done anything together for a long time now. So yes, I stayed up past 3 am to eat with you even though I have work in a few hours  because I  miss my husband, and I really want him back.” You sniffle.

Ari squared in his jaw, your heart pounded out of your ear in pure trepidation about what he’s going to do. “ You wanna know why I come home late? I stay out late, hoping that you are asleep. I’ll drive around, get a couple drinks, and some food then head  home.” His haunted eyes bored into yours. “ I do all this to avoid you because I can’t stand the sight of you and every fucking time I walk in this cursed house I beg that you’re asleep somewhere, and I’m disappointed every time, and I hate that when I come home you’re waiting for me. He scowled, bumping into you. You’re frozen in utter disbelief as a single tear rolls down your cheek.

[svartish]

baby deer

one of the two fics i planned on doing for vyn's birthday this year. may you enjoy the torment of his younger years, contrasted beautifully by the hope prevailing within his future. September 27th -- A most dreadful day, surely, housing the meeting of two different creatures most alike in fate. Young and weak, little Vilhlem is left with no option but to obey, no matter how it pains him so, a display most wretched.

in case you missed it in the tags, this fic contains hunting and animal death, including that of a young animal. the violence is only worded minimally, but please exercise discretion if needed. 1.4k words

“It’s been long enough; I think we should head home now.”

“Not yet. Not after last year’s fiasco.”

Footsteps quiet atop twigs and leaves, the small party presses forward, bows in hand. Near the middle of the group trudges a young boy, silver head bowed toward the ground numbly. His feet step over each other, taking no care to avoid the multitude of twigs snapping beneath his heel. He stumbles slightly, a hand from somewhere behind him unsympathetically grabs his shoulder, keeping him from hitting the ground before roughly shoving him back onto his feet properly. 

He continues walking, eyes down toward his feet yet not truly looking, stare somehow lost in the distance from head to toe. 

“He needs the experience.”

Helpless cries, a whimper, die out in the young boy’s throat, the reality of his fate pressing down against him. There would be no point in crying, begging, or whimpering – not when there is no one to hear, to care. 

He hears it suddenly, they all do: a branch, then another, both snapping quickly, clumsily, a short distance away. His head whips up, golden eyes blown wide, fearfully gazing and desperately scanning, searching for the source with trepidation corded tight around his throat. The instinct to see, to know, betrays him, bearing him witness when he knows it will only hurt him more. 

Their eyes meet. Beyond branches upon branches, trees upon trees, they lock eyes; young boy and mother deer. 

His breath hitches in his throat, his body tensing immediately. His arms dig into his sides, petrified in place. He doesn’t move, but it doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t matter.

The men around him move, quickly and quietly. He feels them rush past, the wind lifting the silver hair from his cheek, though his eyes remain frozen in place. They move with a grace he could only pray they lose, a practiced hunter’s skill evident in each man’s unique movements. 

Run, hide, please!  

Desperate pleas bang about ceaselessly within his mind, clawing about for purchase, for a chance, as his vision nearly wavers. His breath comes quicker and quicker, the lump in his throat swelling more and more, choking his dying hope mercilessly. His fingers quiver, twitch, curl, yet he cannot find it within himself to move, to scare the majestic creature, to give it life. His ears, traitors, pick up the sound of heavy footsteps trampling over leaves and twigs, deafening yet not enough to shake the determined creature, her wide eyes fixated solely on the little boy, before he hears it. Amidst the footsteps, the voices of the men only quietly piercing the air, the tell-tale snap of fibers cuts through the atmosphere as easily as it cuts through life.

Devastation rips through him first as nausea settles in, golden eyes blown wide. Numbness circles around him, nearly deaf to the sounds of the adults speaking, celebrating. Deaf only until they return, something heavy slung above his uncle’s shoulder, when it’s dropped carelessly amongst the dead leaves. Dead husk resting atop dead leaves. He averts his eyes once more. 

“I think that’s good enough for toda-"

A snap and all their heads whip around, conclusion hanging in the air. Between the trees, further off from where the mother once stood, now stands a baby. Its legs thin and its eyes curious, it can’t be more than a few months old, likely born only months before this wretched, wretched fall began. 

Once again, that raw, visceral feeling, that undying scream, wells up in the boy’s throat, begging the animal to turn tail and run; to save itself like it could. To run like he’d like to himself. Yet still, the animal only lowers its head slightly, sniffing at the ground, large eyes transfixed on the pathetic heap that once served as its mother. 

Something is huffed behind him, a silent agreement he didn’t hear, before a rough hand shoves him forward, shuffling over his own heavy feet. He turns back, aghast, mouth dangling open and ready to protest, only to be met with stern faces in turn. 

“Go on. You handle this one. Then we can head home.” A cold chill shivers the trees as silence settles for a moment, shattered only once more. “And not a moment before.” 

Mouth still slightly parted, horror and trepidation filling him, the young boy turns slowly to look again toward where the stupid, stupid deer still stands. It, too, has become rooted to its spot, perhaps too afraid, or too daft, to know it should run. He steps, feet unsure, once, twice, moving closer as one of the adults in the group begins a low argument with the one who forced him forwards.

Numbly, he finds himself having moved ever so slightly closer, his hands barely registering the bow loosely hanging off his fingertips. He gulps, adjusting his grasp to hold the cool metal properly, a tremor shaking up the expanse of his arms. He holds it up before him, arm straight, as he reaches to nock the arrow. He pauses, breath caught.

Foolishly, the young boy makes a critical error; he locks eyes with the creature he is made to kill. 

Large black circles, bearing nothing but youthful innocence and the beauty of nature, stare back into his own haunted golden eyes. Pure, they reflect only him back. At that moment, the boy realizes they two are the same. Scared. Alone. Motherless.

With a rush of emotion crashing over him, guilt and venom rise up in his throat. A heat pools behind his eyes as his fingers tremble and quake. The press of the bow against his fingertips feels raw, bleeding, the ache overwhelming and biting deeply into his senses. The air is cold, chillingly so, ripping at the exposed skin of his hands and cheeks, freezing the unshed tears and burning the roof of his mouth. When the wind whips, again and again, tearing and seeking and painful, lifting his hair from his face and beating against his young cheeks. A hiccup, weak and pitiful, wells inside the hollow-feeling crevice settled snug behind his ribs. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, the tears forced out to trail down the chilled expanse of his skin. He breathes in, his breath staggering and chest heaving ever so slightly. His emotions run high, higher and higher, tearing and tripping over each other as they bubble to the surface, to the threshold, a choked sob the only sound slipping from him. 

“It’s alright, Albert. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” 

The voice he wants to hear least out of anything. It tears against his ears and beats against his worn heart. The wind isn’t biting or chilling or tearing away at his skin. The air isn’t brutal, punishing his lungs and stabbing his mouth. There is only boy and deer, mirrors of each other within this undying forest. Mirrors of the boy’s own fate.

Motherless.

His eyes shut tight the moment it happens, the arrow whistling from his straightened arm and ending the brutal moment with the most sickening thwack he’s ever heard. His heart beats quickly inside his chest, banging against his ribs as if seeking to escape the guilt lodged tight within him. He cries openly, a weak sound pouring from his mouth in equal measure to the increased tears flowing from his eyes. His feet weakly lead him one step before another, until he finds himself before the once vulnerable, beautiful creature.

His knees find the dirt and his head finds his hands as he weeps. Its eyes are still open and he can still see himself, his weak, helpless self, reflected for the whole world to see. Vulnerable. 

The first man to him is his father, strong hand cupping his shoulder for a moment in comfort before gingerly guiding him back to his feet. The touch is kinder, more gentle than those from his uncles before, and he allows himself to take his father’s hand, snot streaming down his face, to be led away from the scene. He doesn’t hear the conversations from his uncles, their satisfaction or delight, curling in upon himself and tuning out the evils around him. His arms hug each other, hunching over slightly, his father’s hand still on his shoulder, as he seeks true comfort only amongst himself.

For who is he to seek forgiveness, warmth? Who is he to beg for love he knows not how to give? He is nothing more than a sacrifice; a struggling, straggling baby deer, prey upon shaky legs, alone in this vast world – motherless.

[julieverne]

Jane and Maura were free with each other's houses, with each other's keys. One or the other would show up and they'd go out or stay in. If they had plans it was a given that they were free to come over at the arranged time.

Casey put a brief spanner in those works, but that was just once, and Maura declined Jane's generous offer of an orgy. She did announce herself when she came in the front door now, not just wandering through the the bedroom like she used to.

But sometimes she forgot. Jane's place felt like home to her too, and Jane was just as comfortable in Maura's home.

So she knew what Jane was doing when she stood in the doorway, a distant hum under the covers. Jane didn't notice for a moment, and Maura watched her, unable to look away from the peaceful look on her face. She knew she should go back out and come back in and let Jane know she was here and pretend she hadn't seen anything.

But Jane's eyes opened and Jane shot upright, fumbling with something under the covers, blushing bright red as the humming stopped.

"Jeeeezus," Jane said finally. "I need to put a bell on you."

"Boston Joe's. Jog. Seven," was all Maura was able to stumble out of her dry mouth. Jane looked over at her alarm clock. 6:52. She looked at Maura with both eyebrows raised.

"Traffic was good," Maura shrugged. She came in and sat on the bed, ignoring Jane's shooing motions. "It's natural, Jane, and I'm glad you have a way to relieve some of the tension of your work and home life."

"Well I'm double tense now, get out," Jane huffed and Maura chuckled.

"Do you need a hand?" Maura asked. Jane pushed Maura's shoulder and Maura got up, still chuckling, headed for the longue room. Eight minutes later Jane came out in her exercise outfit, not meeting Maura's eyes. Maura wasn't sure if she'd finished what she'd started or just used the bathroom and dressed, but Jane's shoulders were still tense and hunched.

"Don't be ashamed," Maura said, finally looking worried. "I shouldn't have... I should have announced myself, or knocked and waited for you."

"Nah, you have a key and I'm too impatient to knock for you as well. Can we just forget about this?" Jane looked uncomfortable, so Maura nodded. She wondered if letting Jane walk in on her would make them even. But besides the blushes on Jane's cheeks through their work day, Jane didn't seem worried so she shelved the idea.

---

Maura was more considerate with announcing herself after that, and Jane learned not to do... that before plans with Maura. But she couldn't help but feel she'd missed an opportunity.

---

Maura hadn't expected Jane. That was her mistake. Jane was always impatient, always barging in. But at 2am, Maura hadn't expected Jane, even if they'd only finished work an hour before. If Jane had planned to come over, she would have come home with Maura.

The last thing she'd expected was to meet Jane's dark eyes in her doorway when she was mid-climax. It was too late to stop; that train had left the station and after a week of neglect it would not be derailed. She could and should look away, but Jane didn't move, didn't blink, so neither did Maura, other than certain involuntary movements related to the aforementioned train.

When Maura sank back into the bed Jane cleared her throat, finally realising the situation and flushing bright red.

"I - I saw the light - I couldn't sleep - frozen yoghurt - I thought you'd heard me - called from the stairs - I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Maura said, sitting up and running her hand through her tousled hair. "Get over here."

[eldritchaccident]

TIMING: Early August just after [bugging out] LOCATION: A convenience store in Harborside PARTIES: @wonder-in-wings & @eldritchaccident SUMMARY: Teddy feels like shit and needs some snacks. Parker feels like shit and needs a distraction. WARNINGS: drug manipulation tw (tranquilizers), surgery tw (section is marked)

Day 2.

Why was he here? Parker didn’t often waste his time at Harborside but it was a suggestion that one of his coworkers unhelpfully suggested to him when he got sent home from work that day. ‘Go get some air, go to the beach and breathe. Let your injury breathe’. It wasn’t until he protested about someone touching his stuff that everyone suddenly turned into a therapist telling him to practice deep breathing exercises and get some air. Parker already did those things. On his own. Without being told or prompted. He was always an expert at control, whether it was his displays, his collection or especially his own emotions. These never breached the surface; in fact, he was highly efficient at turning them off when he needed to. That’s not how today was going, though. The sun was setting. Parker had been ‘sent home’ three hours ago and after prowling around Harborside, looking quite out of place in his formal attire (though the collar had since been popped open, his tie hanging around his shoulder loosely and his coat hanging off his shoulders while his sleeves were rolled up at the elbows) and, of course, the fresh bandage that was plastered on a large portion of the left side of his face. Fortunately, unlike yesterday, today’s was clean and dry. He got stares regardless; it was as though people had never seen someone with a facial injury before. Usually he didn’t mind stares. Usually he was a distinguished gentleman who almost enjoyed commanding respect when he wanted it. Usually he was the pinnacle of self-control and keen observation. He was an efficient machine. Parker had a feeling that the days were going to go by in a blur. Yesterday was yesterday, today was today and ideally tomorrow he would’ve gone back to normal because as he stood there in the convenience store, near the back, gripping one of the handles of a drink cooler so tightly the veins in his thin wrist were bulging, he was finding it increasingly difficult to simply ‘get some air’ and ‘breathe’. What was he even mad about? Why was the stomach acid in his abdomen bubbling like a volcano threatening to erupt? Why did he want to curl into a ball and cry? He hated crying; he hadn’t even started crying until yesterday. He hated everything. And yet, he couldn’t move. Parker was seemingly frozen, his eyes unfocused as they looked past whatever they were pointed at. He needed to calm down. He was not about to have an explosion over… them being out of lemonade.

—

Staying still was never easy. Teddy realized this long long ago, and was reminded every time they ended up so injured that they were bedridden for a day or more. This was no different. Stir crazy. Cabin fever. Whatever you wanted to call it, the demon was well enough suffering through. Leviathan was off, most of the time, so the imprisonment was mostly self governed. Which was honestly a terrible idea. 

Teddy made for a terrible warden. 

Let their one and only inmate (themself) out the first moment the urge for snacks arose. They were still hobbling on wobbly legs. Bopping around like a freshly born deer. The cane helped. A little. It unfortunately added extra stress up the demon's arm and into their shoulders, but it was better than risking falling over while on a quest for what became an all consuming hunger for the crunchiest of treats. Teddy wanted Takis. Wanted them bad. Bad enough to load themself into the shitty Volkswagen beetle and cart themself off World's End Isle to visit that one bodega that they liked. 

Kolya Sulkowski was incredible. Always a welcoming face, quick with a joke and made incredible empanadas and arepas considering he was very much not at all latine. But the woman he got the shop from originally had passed on the recipe. Something about the locals rioting if they didn't get their food fix. Teddy could relate. They'd probably pick up a few of the originals, and a few of the remixes, adding in a bit of Polish flavor to the Colombian dish. Ted loved a good fusion. Hell, they were one. Maybe that's why this particular corner store called to them. 

Somewhere between telling stories and petting the two guardian kitties who sat by the teller and the bread aisle (Mishka and Mittens respectively) this place had become a little ray of sunshine in an otherwise often sour. Not that sour things couldn't be good, of course. Lemonade being chief among delicious sour goodies. But apparently they weren't the only one after the refreshing beverage. 

Frustration given human form, the other man radiated irritation in a way that wasn't too dissimilar to Teddy the days before they'd been brought to the mines. Before they realized it was an outside influence and worked to fix it. Or at least to mask. Maybe they should have noticed that. Maybe it should have looked familiar, but the face it came from wasn't. And sometimes people were just pissed off. It happens. Teds was nothing if not a helpful demon though, and sometimes Kolya got too busy with the front end stuff that he didn't get to unload everything he had in the back. 

"Ooh. Bummer, that stuff is the best. Lemme ask if there's any hiding–" Teddy turned, began to spout off some perfect Polish, but something knocked into one of the displays. Something that should have been hidden. Something that was still far too new for the demon to properly know how to hide. The rope-like tail whipped and dipped for just a second before curling back up behind the protective cover of the long silk cardigan. 

"Hey look at that, exactly what you wanted."  The demon, it seemed, had not noticed the slip. Far too lost in their own brain fog. Teddy held tight onto the large purple bag of chips with one hand, and gestured with their other. The shop opener held up two of the lemonade bottles over at the counter. Perfect. Right? 

—

The Warden was so distracted with his childish attempts to keep from having a complete and embarrassing breakdown right then and there at the store that it took more than a couple of words from someone who was apparently talking to him to pull him out of his head. Parker jostled as though shaken from his slumber and blue eyes that started to carry trace amounts of sleep deprivation around them danced with a lack of focus. As he did so, and before he could process what had been said to him (though to be honest, he wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to be able to repeat it), he heard a noise not unlike something being knocked into. Quickly, like a cat seeing the glimpse of a laser and still ignoring whatever else was going on around him, Parker’s eyes shot to the source, which appeared to be a display. That alone wasn’t worth further investigation or a desperate attempt to distract him from what was currently running through his head; no, he was willing to bet with absolute certainty that he’d seen a tail, long, thin and whiplike as it knocked itself into the display before retreating under the comfort of the tacky cardigan the stranger was wearing. It wasn’t tacky. Yes it was. ‘Why’d you call it tacky, what if you saw me wearing it?’ his mother chided in his head. He shook it briefly to bring himself fully back to the present and, like a robot learning how to ease its mechanical grip on things, unlatched his fingers from around the handle of the cooler. Exercising the stiffness from his hand, his gaze flickered from the lemonade bottle to the shopkeeper’s gentle face to the stranger with his eccentric attire and back down to where he saw the grayish-blue, whiplike tail. Instead of letting his gaze wander absently, trying to find what to look at, Parker instead stared at where he last saw the tail and had to resist a great urge to invade the stranger’s space to see for himself. “I appreciate it.” He said quietly, flatly, clearly carrying distraction in his tone. Not a fae, his blood would’ve been churning. Shifter? Parker popped his neck to release some of the new tension that was carried in with the briefest of glimpses that he saw something that might not have even been there to begin with. Was he finally losing his mind? ‘Observe. Ask questions.’ “What are you?” He breathed, tearing his gaze from where he last saw the phantom appendage and looking the stranger square in the eyes, attempting to pierce through the tinted glasses with his steely stare.

—

Teddy was often distracted at the best of times, this was decidedly not that. Weary bones and wobbly legs made for an achy foggy head. Sure, they were conscious enough to go about business. Gather their snacks like a modern Paleolithic paragon. Even enough to try and help the stranger with the piercing gaze. Where Parker's stare was intense and calculating, Ted's was hazy, unfocused, relaxed. They didn't outwardly appear to be injured but that didn't mean the pain didn't affect them. Almost dreamlike, the way they waltzed through the store. A lot less spatial awareness than normal, which again at the best of times was often lacking.

"Hmm?" The stranger's question took a second to process, and Teddy somehow didn't click two and two together when the sentence finally arrived in their mind. "Oh me? I'm bisexual." Obviously that's what he was asking. Unless it wasn't. "Oh, or did you mean like, pronouns? They/them works, thank you!" Yep. That had to be it. Their head turned back to Kolya who was already bagging something up for them, a sappy smile lit up their face as the demon approached the counter. 

Of course, once they were there, the pet tax had to be paid as Mishka croaked a hearty "brrrrrow?" With the crackle of a smoker of twenty years. Teddy set down the tangled mess of keys and fawned over the calico while the shop keep rang up the rest of their items. A bit of small talk, and Teddy actually ended up buying the lemonade for the stranger in the back of the store. Seemed like the right thing to do, pay it forward right? 

"Hey! Got you that lemonade, stay cool out there alright!" Oblivious, entirely, to the danger present. To the way their little slip up tipped off the man to anything abnormal, and how bad that was for them. Teddy waved politely, smooched the kitty on the head and grinned at Kolya before heading out to their car. Conveniently for Parker, the demon managed to forget their keys on the counter. 

They weren't getting very far without them. 

—

And, of course, the answer that Parker wanted never came, the answers he did receive sending a sharp spike of anger through his brain. Sexuality, astrological sign, words, bullshit. None of it mattered and none of that was the Warden’s business. He popped his neck sharply in immediate, nonverbal retaliation to the creature’s obfuscating stupidity and what was worse, they were treating Parker like he was stupid. ‘Oh I’ll buy you a lemonade and play dumb when you ask about what I am when I have a tail that’s just there.’ …What the hell, whose voice was that? The Warden exhaled roughly through his nose to release the energy that wound itself up inside him, ready to spring into some outburst at the slightest, most unwarranted provocation. On a good day, on a day before the night with the jaguar, the stranger’s response wouldn’t have been nearly enough to poke the serpent inside Parker but today, with the pendulum inside swinging back and forth with such intensity that sometimes it felt as though it were moving his body for him, it took everything in his power not to snap at the stranger for the responses. Instead, he felt his eye twitch and he had to blink back the murderous urge to leap at the creature like a cat onto a toy that waved before him, taunting him. Deep breaths. In. Out. It didn’t help. The stranger was leaving. Leaving with junk food and one bottle of lemonade and the answer to the question Parker always asked nonhumans. And that tail wasn’t human. In fact, it seemed almost as though the stranger wasn’t aware it was there. The more he thought about it, standing there with a stance that suggested he was one wrong word away from going on a killing spree, the more he came to a potentially frustrating conclusion that maybe the stranger wasn’t simply playing dumb, they really were dumb. Some Fae he had encountered underwent metamorphoses that changed their bodies, their physiology and had either added or taken away some of their features without them even being privy to them.

Was the tail new?

He had too many questions and not enough patience to either let this go or think about it more, feeling the pull of obsession on his mind. Parker approached the counter where the shop keep had the bottle of lemonade expectantly waiting for him. The stranger couldn’t have known but this was just another stab to his pride; the Warden hated having things bought or done for him, regardless of how the action might’ve been in good faith. But the thing was done and as he deliberated by the counter for a long moment, his blue eyes an unfocused dance on the multiple colors and shapes of all the kitschy junk on the counter. It was then that he noticed the glint of metal off to the side and his eyes snapped to them like a lock on a target. Keys. Thinking quickly, the same gaze that snapped to the set of keys shot up to give the shop keep the same unsettling stare for just a moment too long for it to be ‘normal’. Then, a smile. Brief, small, joyless. Parker took the lemonade as well as the keys from the counter. “I guess these belong to… them.” He mused, knowing the answer and keeping his stare on the bodega owner. “Better return them.” A small nod, the smile sliding off his face as effortlessly as it had arrived. “Have a good evening.” With that, the Warden turned and abruptly left the store, swiftly pocketing the keys and finding it rather easy to catch up to the nonhuman, considering how slowly the other one moved. “Hey,” Parker called. “I just wanted to, uh…” His lip curled visibly. “Express my appreciation.” He felt his insides writhing with the performance. “For the lemonade.”

—

Normally it was a farce. Normally, Teddy played dumb because it made people underestimate them. Acted oblivious so the details they did notice would go unknown. They played nice because people seemed to think nice people were weak. And maybe just a little because more folks deserved kindness in their lives. Teddy was usually bright. Usually quick witted. Even in their human form, they had enough strength to hold their own in almost any situation. But this week? Forecast showed brain fog for all seven days. Who knew if it would ever lighten up? 

Distracted. Lethargic. Lingering behind the pack. The kind of slowed that lions paid attention to. They had missed the keys, and were somewhat exasperatedly looking for them now, as if they had dropped well before the demon ever made it into the store. Teds patted themself down, and upon not finding any they almost flattened into the asphalt to see if they'd fallen under the car when the stranger from the store came up behind them. 

"Oh yeah, no problem." Teddy said, still glancing around with a lot more attention then they had paid anything in the store. "Happy to lemon-aid a fellow Mel's drinker." The demon's mouth twisted, not unlike how someone who just sipped upon a particularly puckery lemon drink might. Only their reaction was a souring only at themself, for getting into yet another mess so soon after the last. The Teddy Jones specialty, so it seemed. A little cosmic irony that the trouble was only compounding by the second. Missing keys soon to be the least of their worries.  

—

As Parker approached the individual to express his mostly-false gratitude, he did notice that the latter was indeed looking for their keys, the keys that were nicely nestled in Parker’s front pocket with purpose. As the other person absently replied, their body language was telling the Warden a story: aside from being a regular, they were either usually pretty friendly or they were hiding something. They moved slowly and obviously they were disabled enough to warrant the use of a cane but it wasn’t decorated, which didn’t seem to fit the rest of the stranger’s general aesthetic and behavior. Temporary disability due to recovering from an injury? If their spaciness was true and they didn’t reference the tail earlier, chances were likelier than previously thought when he thought the tail was new. His brow furrowed ever-so-slightly as the nonhuman looked for their keys, turning his gaze slightly to the car he assumed belonged to them and seeing that their window was open just enough that he could… The gears were spinning wildly in Parker’s tired mind, wired with rapid-onset insomnia and the frayed nerves of emotions that were raw and sensitive, taking only a brush against them for them to fire off inappropriately and propel him onto one side of the scale. “Having trouble finding your keys?” He asked, the ghost of a fake smile gracing his hollowing features, not daring to stretch the stitched gash on his face. “Here, let me help.” He offered and without asking for confirmation, he started to loosely, rather lazily move about as though they were hiding in plain sight. He had to get close enough to the car to drop the keys into it.

—

The next few moments were ones of gratitude. Two total strangers doing each other a favor. Proof, perhaps, that humanity at its core was kindness. That things could be okay, and that there was hope in the world. Or something like that. The idealistic ideation ruminated around in the demon’s mind as they struggled to bend over and look beneath the car, just in case. Ted had a smile on their face, and a flutter in their heart. Snack trip was a great idea. Maybe they’d even make a new friend. 

“I’m Teddy by the way!” Calling out from their half crouched position, “--thanks a bunch for helping with this, I have no idea where they got off to.” Clearly this wasn’t the demon’s best day. Thank you was barely in their vocabulary even with folks they knew for sure weren’t fae. This was some total stranger, but they hardly cared. What were they gonna get out of them anyway? Unless a fucking miracle happened, the demon would be dead in a month or less. Dead or worse. Who knew? 

Admittedly Teddy hadn’t been as helpful as they promised they’d be. They had been researching, sure. But to say their heart wasn’t in it was an understatement. They were still in pain, still processing what all of this shit meant, still distracted by so many… maybes. Too many. Loose threads. Whether or not they should say goodbye. What was the kinder move? Even in moments like this, should they even have told this strange man anything about them? Or was it just something that was going to add hurt to another, if ever he found out? 

No luck under the car. Teddy pressed two hands into the concrete, warm to the touch under the hot August sun. Bits of gravel stuck in their palms but they hardly felt that. Not with the way their joints protested the movement, the elevation change. “Any sign of them?” 

—

‘Teddy’. Short for ‘Theodore’, Parker hoped. Not that it was any of his business. Not that he asked for the nonhuman’s name. He often didn’t like knowing their names when he honed in on something they had that he needed. “Wright.” He replied as he maintained his half-hearted search for the fabled keys that were still in his pocket. “As in… with a W. That’s my name.” In reality, he was gauging Teddy’s movements, how they carried themselves, how the tail moved whenever he could see it under their cardigan. Robe? Parker wasn’t great at fashion. He was patient though and he dismissed the ‘thanks’ with a light shrug which didn’t feel too light considering how he wanted to unceremoniously jump onto the stranger and strangle– sedate. So much for being patient. He was usually patient. ‘This is a nightmare.’ His brother said what he was thinking and Parker had paused in his searching to take a long swig of his lemonade to keep a latent spike of rage from being driven into his head, forcing him to act irrationally at this whole situation. He didn’t understand why. He didn’t understand why he snapped the way he did at the museum yesterday, he didn’t know why he was here. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why. Teddy lowered themself to the ground to look under the car and in a fluid movement, without thinking too much on it, Parker reached into his pocket and quietly removed the keys. Glancing down at where Teddy’s head was, he held out the lemonade bottle and simultaneously threw the keys through the cracked window of the car as he dropped the bottle where it landed on the concrete near Teddy with a loud, plastic clatter. “Oops, sorry.” He apologized, hoping the noise so close would distract from the noise of the keys landing in the car, wedging themselves between the gear shift and the seat to the point where they weren’t noticeable unless you were really looking, which… He didn’t think Teddy was. At least not with those tacky glasses. “Sorry,” He apologized again, stooping to collect the bottle that rolled away from them. “I’m not seeing your keys, either.” Parker popped his neck, his steely blue eyes staring at Teddy’s figure now. “Tell you what. I can give you a ride home, how’s that?” He noted the cane. “You seem like you’ve had a rough time. Don’t wanna strand you.”

—

“Wright. Nice! Which do you hear more, jokes about directions or airplanes?” The low hanging fruit of responses to a name like that. Why were names something people always felt compelled to make jokes about? Was it meant to be an in of sorts? Something to relate to the other with? Teddy never understood it. Though, they didn’t always understand a lot of things people did. It often sort of felt like they were walking through crowds, playing a decently acceptable version of a person, always performing, never actually being a part of it. Us vs Them, except most of the time it felt like there was next to no one on Teddy’s side. 

Teddy, who did not notice the sleight of hand performance that’d make David Copperfield blush, dusted themself off and let loose a long sigh. “Just my luck–” They were about to cut their losses and start digging for their phone when the good samaritan went and offered them a ride. “Oh man, wow– You would– That’s– that is so kind of you.” About twenty five years of being told your are the apex of apex predators strips away at a cautiousness that probably should have been present. Teddy often ran headfirst into trouble because they had truly believed for so long that nothing could hurt them in any meaningful way. Getting into a car with a kind stranger couldn’t be a problem right? 

“It’s a bit far out though, I could at least fill your tank if you do?” 

— 

The Warden didn’t want to dignify the question with a response, instead blinking just slowly enough to roll his eyes while they were closed. He sure was going through a lot of effort for this tail and maybe, for just a split second, he heard his brother’s voice in his head asking ‘is it actually worth it?’ It had to be. It had to be worth it, right? Parker clutched the bottle of lemonade in his hand tightly, giving the impression that he didn’t want to drop it again but in reality it was the storm of swirling emotions just under the surface, a cacophony of voices in his brain from family members each giving him their own interpretation of what should happen. Two of them said to be persistent but those weren’t the same two that said to be polite. He shook his head, his jaw tightening beneath the freshly-scarred skin. “Don’t worry about it. You went through the effort of getting me the lemonade; it’s the least I can do.” With that, taking a deep breath as he tried to clear some of the clutter of voices from his mind, he motioned over to his unassuming [placeholder car with a hatchback]. “I’m right over there.” He exhaled softly. “Do… you have any hobbies?” Parker asked with what sounded like a little bit of effort behind it; while he really couldn’t have cared less what the nonhuman named Teddy did in their spare time, he felt like he had since gotten in their good graces (and indeed, they were very open and displaying a lack of survival instinct) but he didn’t want what little momentum and control he had to slip through his fingers, one of the voices pushing him away from his supposedly single-minded goal.

—

“Hobbies?” Teddy asked with a delighted chuckle. Well that was a can of worms in and of itself wasn’t it? They did, didn’t everyone? “I guess… collecting jobs? I don’t know if that’s what you’d call it exactly. I just really like trying a whole bunch of things. Doing temp work. Learning as much as I can about…” They paused, thoughtful. “Well pretty much everything. There’s too much in this world not to get invested in, y’know?” 

The demon circled around the car, a bit slower than they’d like but hey. What can you do? It was easy enough to slip in the other side of the car, not a care in the world to what path this might lead down. Ted’s cane rested by their leg, and they even remembered to buckle their seatbelt. No one could call them an uncourteous passenger. As far as they were concerned, today was going pretty great. 

“How about you? Hobbies I mean, what do you like to do?” 

— 

“I… collect things as well.” Parker replied first, managing his usual flat affect with the reply as he waited for Teddy to go around to the passenger side of the car before getting in himself, his blue eyes dancing on the car itself as his mind started to go through the motions of how this interaction would continue. Teddy mentioned that it would be ‘a bit of a drive’ so he was sure they could take a detour, somewhere that would place both of them out of the watchful gaze of a street lamp. The pieces were starting to fall into place. Parker was nothing if not a proficient planner, preferring to have at least three different contingency plans for any given situation. Granted, he wasn’t bubbling with unfamiliar thoughts and emotions tearing his brain apart as they weren’t given sufficient enough attention previously before the past couple of days, either. He hated this. He wanted to tear the damn thing off and call it a day. ‘Patience.’ Another exhale. “Insects, primarily.” The Warden followed up as he slid into his seat once Teddy sat down. He couldn’t relate to the concept of collecting jobs, rather finding the idea to be something that wasn’t considered a highlight of one’s life - then again, he was told that having one job was preferable to having many over the years. Despite that, though, Parker could identify with learning about things. He himself valued knowledge and considered the accrual of information to be much more important than collecting jobs. “I also… enjoy learning.” ‘Enjoy’ was a strong word but it was the one he opted to use. Turning the car on, he looked sideways at the nonhuman. “Where would you like for me to take you?”

—

Teddy grinned, shared the address, and sat in for the ride. “Insects, neat! I’ve always thought those shadowboxes with the pinned beetles are so pretty. I remember spending like eight hours in a natural history museum one time, just staring at all the different shapes and colors.” It wasn’t hard for them to be enthusiastic about any one subject. Teddy genuinely found most things to be interesting, more than that though, they loved hearing people talk about things they were enthused about. It was contagious. Delightful. 

“Is that entomology or etymology? I always get those two confused.” Their mind had a habit of wandering, less like a lazy river and more like a rabid rapid. All filled with swirling thoughts and eddies where trains of thought dove deep and didn’t resurface until they were far enough away from the original idea that it was hard to see the connection. Teddy tried to rein it in sometimes, but wasn't always successful. “Do you think the bugs would’ve picked the names that we call them? Like I get why the dung beetle is called that, but like, would they want to be remembered for it?” 

—

The talking was replaced by buzzing, similar to the bugs that he was sure Teddy was talking about absently as they filled the space. Parker was reminded of his brother, but in a less endearing way as the nonhuman asked about whether or not insects cared or minded what they were called; that implied a level of identity that far exceeded the Warden’s capacity for empathy in any measure. “Entomology.” He replied rather patiently once the other had reached a small pause in their rhetoric and wonder. It was a shame, really; if they didn’t have that damned tail, this might’ve been the spark of an… interesting relationship. Who knew, maybe they really weren’t attached to it and they’d be willing to part with it reasonably and Parker was just turning it into a bigger deal than it really was. Either way, he got them going - it wasn’t as far away as he initially thought, though he wondered what sort of illustrious life Teddy must’ve lived if they mentioned having several jobs, dressed the way they did and yet lived out in Harborside. …Then again, Parker didn’t know about real estate that much and had no interest in living on a boat again. “They may prefer if they were called by their taxonomic name, Scarabaeoidea.” Parker suggested as he kept his sharp blue eyes on the road now, though they darted in their familiar directions that accompanied all aware drivers… only he was also keeping an eye out for a detour he could’ve taken. He didn’t think too hard about the opportunity when it arose though and he continued the conversation as though nothing happened, that he wasn’t turning the wrong direction. “Apologies, I have to make a brief stop in a minute.” He apologized, his tone even. “Everything sounds better when you use their latin roots.”

—

“That is better.” Teddy agreed. Scarabaeoidea. Bit of a mouthful, but decidedly less… shitty.  Amusingly so. Their attention was already divided elsewhere when the driver announced his apologies. Something Ted didn't mind at all. "Yeah, no worries. You're already going out of your way to do this for me, so I can't complain." On a better day they might have noticed, on a better day they might have paid attention to the route. Three years was plenty of time to acclimate to the new scenery, enough that tiny details shouldn't have slipped past them. 

It really wasn't their lucky day though. 

Teddy stared out the window, idly passing the time by imagining something running alongside the car as they drove. Jumping from lamp post to lamp post. Tree to tree. "Do you speak Latin? Or just the buggy nomenclature?" Curious, as ever. So few people shared the love of language that Teddy had. A byproduct of their upbringing, the way they had basically been trained as the tower of Babel to better accommodate deals and contracts. Always easier to meet someone on their own terms, in their own tongue. It wasn't fun if they didn't know exactly what they were getting into. 

"Tam pulchra lingua est, tam pauci sunt qui eam noverunt pudorem."  Fewer still who knew the way the words were meant to sound. The melodious way they flowed. Leviathan had been there long before the language had its origin. But it sure did become a favorite amongst the humans who sought to contact the powerful entities that lived beyond the veil. Teddy always wondered why that was. Maybe Latin really was just that good. They liked it well enough. Maybe all demons shared the same proclivity.

—

Then again, maybe Teddy and Parker were never destined to be friends. The Warden didn’t need to know what Teddy was to know that whatever they were was either an omniglot or a casual show-off from the way they just prattled off Latin like it was still being actively used outside of the Vatican. He wasn’t even sure if he could attribute it to their apparent spaciness or if they really just thought that it made them sound impressive. “Few people speak the root language for fun.” He replied with a quiet exhale as he pulled them into one of the more poorly-lit streets, the way no one populated it giving him the impression that it was either abandoned or used in similarly ill-solicited acts. This didn’t keep him from looking around as though he were keeping an eye out for anything in particular. Placing the car into park with the emergency brake enabled just in case, Parker unbuckled his seatbelt.“Give me a moment.”

[start of drug manipulation tw / surgery tw / unsanitary tw ]

He said, removing himself from the car where he shut the door and went to the hatchback. Opening the door to that instead, he casually pulled one of the familiar, needle-like daggers from his belt and he got into the back of the car, crawling forward and reaching in as subtle a gesture as he could to plunge the needle into the neck of the unsuspecting nonhuman. They were never going to be friends. Parker didn’t have friends. He learned from his encounter with the jaguar, even as he felt the heat of fury threatening to creep onto his face, flushing the raw wound, sending pain through his jaw as he attempted to tranquilize whatever it was that sat in his front seat, asking its inane questions and facilitating empty conversation.

—

The dark alley was finally the tipping point. Where an inkling of the oddity of the situation started to trickle in. Unfortunately there wasn’t much time to react in a reasonable manner. Wasn’t much time to do anything at all besides eek out a sorry little “What the fuc–” before the needle hit and the world went black. Fast acting. Had to give credit where it was due. Teddy had no way of knowing how long they were out, or what the hell was going on while they were under. 

They were there.

Then they weren’t. 

And now they started to come back.

They’d been moved. That much was obvious. Probably one of the first senses that reached them was touch. Teddy felt the rough carpet on their side, felt the way their neck had been stuffed into an uncomfortable position, but worst of all, the bright searing pain in their… tail. Fuck. 

“MNnubrrr uhmffnhuh–” Speech wasn’t quite there yet huh? Teddy felt a sting of panic rise in their chest, if only because they couldn’t move just yet. The demon struggled, managing to just slightly flail their limbs. “Fffhuhck rroo mdoinhg–” Their stomach churned, their head was spinning. Rapidly coming into focus was the man with the lemonade. A lot more sour than their shared drink of choice. Playing surgeon on a patient who really just wanted to be at home. 

Teddy had been cut. They felt that much. But it wasn’t something blessed. The man’s earlier question suddenly seemed a lot more malicious. What are you? Guess he saw something they hadn’t intended to show. Fuck fuck fuck. “Don  t’you neeed a lizzence to pracctice medicim?” And an office. And a surgical suite. And consent. 

— 

Maybe they weren’t stupid, the way they were able to speak whatever language crossed their mind and was pseudo-philosophical on the nature of whether or not bugs would approve of the names that were given to them by scientists. But they were obviously physically compromised they way their cane still sat in the front seat, not to mention flighty enough that they didn’t notice or react nearly as quickly as they needed to before Parker’s tranquilizer pumped itself through their veins. The man admittedly waited carefully in the back for a few moments, as though another animal would rupture from Teddy like the damned jaguar from Felix’ pathetic frame. Nothing happened, fortunately and he worked to lean the seat back, pulling the unconscious nonhuman into the back with him quickly where he moved it around until adjusting the silk cardigan revealed the object of his interest - the long, whiplike, silvery blue tail with the glowing baubles on the end. Parker had no idea what it was but he didn’t have the time to think about it, already feeling the rush of what he could do with such a specimen, how he could arrange it, what he could use to compliment the stand or jar with. Using that same silk cardigan as a makeshift (if incredibly shoddy and not remotely effective) tarp, he got to work. Unfortunately for this… whatever it was, it wasn’t a fae so Parker had no way of stemming the blood flow by cauterizing the wound. Fortunately for whatever it was, the tail was so thin that even as he cut into it, spilling completely unfamiliar black blood onto the carpet, he was able to apply decent pressure to it using his own shirt that he hastily removed once he saw the pitch fluid. Black blood? That was definitely a first… but it sort of worked out in his favor as it would just look like oil was spilled in his car and not the act of cutting something open to surgically remove its tail. He did wish he had more room, though… and more time, evidently, judging by how the specimen known as ‘Teddy’ stirred into consciousness, immediately starting to slur out semblances of speech and moving its limbs around. He kept his sharp blue eyes on the nonhuman for a moment, using his elbow to apply pressure to hold the thing down as he finished what he was doing on the specimen’s tail. “Hold still or the stitches will open.” He muttered.

—

In all their years, with all the bullshit that Teddy got up to, somehow they had never been knocked out like that before. Probably a good thing considering the nature of what kept them alive. This wasn't life threatening, not in the same way falling off a roof over a cliff had been. Wasn't deadly in the way the crystals had been. The monstrous form Teddy took on some times was more of an acute allergic reaction to imminent death. It was protective, a hardened shell they could switch on to stave away the void. The more panicked they became here, the more likely Mr. Wright's car was going to be forcibly ripped apart from the inside. 

Teddy's confusion only seemed to compound, growing more alongside their awareness. As quick as the drug had worked, it was being flushed out of their system just as fast. Almost. "What are you even taking it for??? I'm not a bug!!" Of course that's what they latched onto. The bigger picture once again lost. It was almost like the sudden pain and precarious situation were secondary to trying to trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. Searching for understanding at the edge of a knife. 

"Let me go right now, dude. This isn't going to end well–" There was still a slight slur to their speech, but it was finally at a point where it was more or less understandable. Teddy finally craned their neck enough to get a view. To see the bloody stump where the tail had been sticking out. Their face twisted up in abject horror, shock, and maybe a bit of mortification. They let this happen– this fucking madman gave them all the time and reason in the world to leave, or to not get themselves entrenched in such an awful scenario, but here they were anyway. Trying and failing to scramble deeper into the car, thinking maybe they could escape through the front. 

[end of drug manipulation tw / surgery tw / unsanitary tw ]

They could feel the magic stirring inside of them, normally it held a comfort they relied on. But they were still far too weak after all that bullshit in the mines. Another shift would be disastrous. More painful than the open stitches that the stranger warned about. They just needed to get away. Needed to find a place to calm the fuck down. Teddy glanced at their chest, saw the bioluminescent glow beginning to thrum. Saw the words in that ancient language peek through the parts of their skin that their ribs rubbed against. Shit. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

A gamble. Teddy threw everything they had into reaching up and yanking themself towards the front of the car. The motion was clumsy, and left rugburns along the demon's side as they scrambled to free themself from Nurse Ratched over there. The keys still sat in the engine, idling gently as if they had just parked to get directions instead of setting up the world's worst limb donation center. Ted used the few split seconds the surprise has afforded them and pulled the e-break back into its off position. Threw the car out of park and as they dove their way out of the driver's side door, slammed their cane down on the gas, tucked, rolled, and bled their way to relative safety. 

—

. . . No, it was definitely stupid. Parker didn’t dignify it with a response of any kind, instead keeping his icy stare with its emotionless expression on the thing - enough time had elapsed; Teddy was no longer a ‘they’ or a ‘bisexual’ or whatever else it wanted to call itself to the Warden, it was a specimen with a tail that was now hidden in a safe place away from the prying eyes of it. The back of the car was hot, and only getting more heated as more of the consciousness returned to the specimen. Perhaps it would’ve been in Parker’s best interest to invest in some zip ties. Or rope. Something that could act as a tether to keep any of unnecessary flailing to a minimum as to not further damage the interior of his vehicle. Or whatever the hell was going on, now. Careful observation and the tension that coiled around inside Parker, becoming more active now that he himself was removed from the calm of the procedure, watched and reacted as the creature… turned over, worked its way into the front seat, opened the driver-side door, disabled the emergency break, applied pressure to the gas and jumped from the car. In a few seconds. Coming off of sedation. It would’ve almost been impressive if this were an action movie and the specimen wasn’t some idiot in a silk cardigan wearing rose-tinted glasses who bled black blood and pretended to know more than everyone else. Nonetheless, the series of actions was observed by one Parker Wright, who himself had to take advantage of his heightened reflexes to keep the car from swerving into a building, light pole or even further up onto the curb as necessary. As he did, the motion moved him around so much that he was half-inside, half-dangling out of the driver’s side by the time he managed to get the car to stop with a screech of the tires. ‘Don’t let it go.’ He reached over and pulled the lemonade from the cup holder. ‘Don’t let it go.’ He removed himself from the car where he turned and found the visage of the specimen, adrenaline or whatever else it was that pumped through the nonhuman body spurring it onward. ‘Don’t let it go.’ His father’s voice ordered him, each one pulsing a seething anger through Parker’s broad shoulders, surging up his neck, wrapping itself around each muscle in his toned legs and built arms. The hand that wasn’t holding the lemonade bottle reached for the long dagger that rested in the holster on his thigh. He started to take a step when he was stopped as though someone had held him back. ‘You got what you came for. It’s not fae.’ He shuddered out an exhale. ‘You got what you came for.’ Had he come for that? No, he didn’t know what he came there for. He didn’t want to be there. He exhaled again, blinking erratically as he was pulled back into the unpleasant reality of where he was: Harborside. A tail that needed his attention. The nauseating sting of bile in his esophagus. ‘Let it go.’ The dagger that was held up lowered. He inhaled deeply, getting his heartbeat under control. Before he could think any further on it, whether to go and maim the thing for just a few moments longer for the inconvenience of it all, Parker hurled the lemonade - the specimen’s lemonade - with all the force he could muster before he wordlessly turned on a heel, got back into his car where black-stained hands gripped the wheel and he sped off.

— 

The frantic frenetic freefall wasn't enough to get Teddy away from the man. The stranger had his own secrets or something cause normal people didn't usually have the reflexes to keep up with the magically charged demon when adrenaline kicked in. They were still on the ground panting and dealing with the road rash when his shadow blotted out the streetlight. 

Still, Teddy tried their best to reel in anxiety. No anger, no fear, because they couldn't afford that right now. Couldn't bring out the beast cause it might just break their whole body for good. Things had been getting steadily worse each time they had shifted back into their human shape. Like they were never meant to have this power at all. Maybe that's what Leviathan had meant when it said irreparable damage had been done. 

Their eyes widened for a second, but then the dagger was gone. Moments later, so was the man. The car too, quickly driving away until Teddy couldn't even make out the sound of the engine anymore. Left in the alley, too stunned to speak, too hurt to move much at all. It was a while before they were on their feet, slowly dragging themself towards Harborside, using any wall or fence they could get their hands on to steady the sway. It was hours before they were home. It would probably be a whole day before they woke up again. Though staying in bed until the ritual was starting to seem like a good idea.