#i get really bad joint pain and it makes it hard for me to move around sometimes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Yearling - Ch. 23: Search

You look for what was lost. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-22 found on Tumblr here.

AGAIN Y'ALL! PLEASE PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO THE CONTENT WARNINGS, THIS IS A ROUGH CHAPTER!!! Not as bad as 22 but it's still hard out here, OK?

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Remembered past SA (described, not reader experienced), canon-typical violence, torture, trauma responses. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 7.4k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel was numb.

The wind howled and he knew, consciously, that it was cold. That snow was catching on his hair and his beard, that the air was sharp in his lungs when he breathed, that his tears were turning to ice on his cheeks.

He knew these things.

On some level, he knew them.

He didn’t really feel them.

You had a daughter.

Get away from me!

You were in pain.

Don’t fucking touch me!

You were disgusted by him.

I don’t want anything to do with you.

He lay down on the bottom step of your porch. He wasn’t sure he could move much further than that. He couldn’t bring himself to leave you, not when you were in that much pain, not when you might do something that would get you hurt or killed.

He needed to take care of you.

Get away!

But he couldn’t do that and be close to you, not when you were terrified of him and repulsed by him.

Joel remembered the night after Simon and Ben hurt you. How you’d found comfort in him then. How you’d invited him inside, how you’d pressed your body against his, how you guided his hand to your skin. You were so soft and so warm and he could smell your shampoo on your damp hair and you let him see your skin, let him see the bruises and the scars from the men who had tried to destroy you.

You’re just like them, I trusted you and you’re just like them.

Fuck, he needed to take care of you. But he couldn’t reach you.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there. Snow melted against him at first and then settled on his clothes and, eventually, pain broke through the numbness. He hadn’t put on his gloves and his hands were in the snow and his fingers suddenly hurt and he could barely bend them.

Joel sat up slowly, the snow sloughing off of his body, and looked back toward your door.

Every light that had been on when Joel left was still on. He wondered if you’d even moved, if he went back inside if you’d let him gather you into his arms while you raged against him.

He looked at his hands.

Don’t touch me!

They were red, starting to swell. He knew he needed to get out of the cold or he’d risk permanent damage but it was hard to care.

He tried to bend his fingers, to form a fist, but his joints protested.

He needed to take care of you.

But he needed to protect you, too.

And the only way he could do that was with his hands. He couldn’t keep you safe if he couldn’t throw a punch or pull a trigger.

Joel forced himself to his feet, the act more painful than it had been any time in recent memory. He looked at your door for another moment, all but willing you to open it. To yell at him, to invite him in, to stare daggers at him. He didn’t care. Just let him look at you again, let him see that you were still breathing, that’s all he needed.

He looked at his hands again, tried to make a fist again. He couldn’t.

Get away from me!

Joel shoved his hands in his pockets and took a long, lingering look at your door before trudging home through the snow.

“Jesus, there you are,” Ellie poked her head around the corner from the kitchen for a second when he came in. “I was starting to worry, about to go to Bambi’s and just pray that you weren’t doing anything too gross because fuck that. Is it really bad out there?”

Joel tried to reply for a moment but was having a hard time finding the words. His hair and coat and jeans and boots were starting to drip onto the floor.

“Joel?” He could hear her frown. “You OK?”

He tried to answer but it was like his voice was snagged on the lump in his throat, one that he was having a hard time swallowing around.

Ellie came out of the kitchen, holding a mug, her eyebrows knitted together and her eyes went wide when she saw him.

“Holy shit,” she set the mug down and ran over to him. “What the fuck happened? Are you OK? Here…”

She took his hand and led him to the table. He followed behind her, body moving slowly, and he let her push him down into his usual chair.

“Here, you’re gonna get sick in that wet shit,” she said, unbuttoning his coat. He let her, his arms limp as she pulled the coat from him. “Joel. Hey.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face, searching his eyes with her own, a look of almost panic on her face. “Come on old man, you having a heart attack on me or something? Just because we’re not out in the wilderness anymore doesn’t mean you get to just fucking die on me, alright? C’mon, talk to me, are you OK? Where’s Bambi? What happened?”

The mention of you seemed to bring him back into his body. He felt it all then. Just how cold he was, how much his hands hurt, the way the wet denim clung to his legs.

He felt the pain of you more.

It was a pain that he’d only felt a few times in his life. When he watched Tess burn after he’d failed her. When he thought he was too late to save Ellie, when he’d been afraid that he’d never find her again when she was ripped away from him. It was almost as bad as holding Sarah in his arms as she cried, her eyes wide and in pain, clutching onto her body and knowing there was nothing he could do but desperate to find a way to fix it.

He’d do anything to fix it.

“Had a talk,” he said, not wanting to put what had happened on Ellie. She was almost 18 now but she was just a kid, she was his kid. He wanted to protect her. She shouldn’t be caught in the middle of this, she shouldn’t have to live with the image of what was done to you in her mind or with knowledge of the things he’d done in the past.

But, he was ashamed to admit even to himself, there was an underlying fear, too. That if Ellie knew about it all - all the things he’d done and let happen in cold, visceral detail - she would be gone from his life again. At least with this he’d feel like it was deserved. There was no excuse for the worst of it. He wasn’t going to try to make one.

“About what?” She gaped at him. “It looks like you were fucking crying, I’ve never seen you fucking cry…”

Joel shook his head a little. It hadn’t occurred to him to do something like clean his face up before coming inside.

“Did you guys break up or something?” Ellie frowned. “Because I’m sure shit just got mixed up or something, I can go talk to her…”

“No,” Joel said quickly. He knew you well enough to know that you didn’t want an audience right now. He couldn’t cause you any more pain. “No, I think we just… think we just need to give her some space, Baby Girl.”

“But…”

“I’ll go in the mornin’,” he said, calmer than he felt. He’d always been good at holding things together for his daughter, even when he felt like he was falling to pieces. “Make sure she’s OK with the storm. Check in. It’ll be OK, Kiddo. Why don’t you pick a movie?”

She looked at him, skeptical for a moment.

“Fine,” she said eventually, “But go change out of the wet shit before you actually give yourself a heart attack or something.”

Joel nodded and hoped he’d be able to put one foot in front of the other well enough to make it up the stairs. It was almost a surprise when he did, his hands feeling like they were on fire as they warmed back up.

But he almost appreciated the pain. It was something that made him realize that he was still alive, that just because he felt hallowed out and broken down his body was still there. His heart still beat and his lungs still filled.

He stared at his bed for a moment. He would need sit down to peel off the wet jeans but the last time he had been in that bed you were with him. He’d woken up before you had, your body soft and warm and pliant against him, your face relaxed as you rested it against his chest. Your skin was so smooth when he’d trailed a hand gently over the curve of you and you shifted in your sleep to press yourself closer to him. You’d wanted to be closer to him then.

I trusted you, you made me love you, I let you inside of me and you’re like them, you’re just like them…

Joel got some pajama pants and went to change in the bathroom. He couldn’t stand to look at his bed knowing you might never be in it again. He had enough sense that time to make sure it didn’t look like he was hurting before going downstairs.

Ellie put on Jurassic Park, a movie that reminded him of you now but he didn’t say that. His eyes barely focused on the screen, playing his conversation with you over and over again in his mind instead.

Christ, you had a daughter. It made so much sense that you had a child. The way you’d bonded with Ellie, had fallen into guiding her and protecting her and loving her so naturally. The way you cared for William. The ferocity with which you hunted down every trace of a captive every time there was a sign of raiders. Of course you had a child. How had he not seen it? How had he not asked?

He would in the morning. Maybe, with a few hours of distance, once you had a chance to process anything at all, maybe then he could talk to you. He could take care of you then, you just had to let him. Just for a minute, just let him in for a minute…

Ellie fell asleep in the middle of the movie. Joel turned it off and picked her up, carrying her up the stairs and to the first bedroom she’d ever had in Jackson, before she wanted space and moved into the outbuilding in the yard. He tucked her in, her face drawn and concerned even in sleep, and he pressed a kiss to her temple before going back downstairs.

He couldn’t sleep in his bed. Not without you.

He wasn’t sure he could sleep at all. He turned out all the lights and stretched out on the couch and tried to think of anything but making love to you there on Christmas Eve. How close to you he felt, how all he wanted was to be that close to you for the rest of his life.

You’re just like them.

Joel fell asleep eventually.

He wasn’t sure when or how deeply or how long. It didn’t matter. His mind found a way to torment him through it all.

It was decades ago inside his head, back before buildings had truly started to decay from neglect, before it seemed like the whole of humanity had lost hope.

Hope, Joel had believed then, was mankind’s fatal flaw. That so many people they encountered still had hope, believed that there was something worth living for out there, made them vulnerable.

Joel was only living for Tommy then. His brother who was, after everything, still foolish enough to want to have hope. So Joel kept living. He did everything he could to keep living. He protected his brother, he found him supplies, he followed him when he took up with larger groups because it was a better shot at survival.

It’s how they wound up with the raiders in the first place. Joel and Tommy had run a job on a small group heading for Atlanta, Tommy faking an injury so Joel could ambush them. They’d stolen all their supplies, enough to last them for a month at least. One of Davis’ men found them when they were searching the bodies. Instead of killing them, he extended an offer: Join up with his boss, help him control a swath of the American south. In exchange, Joel and Tommy would have food, shelter, protection and whatever they wanted to fuck.

Joel and Tommy didn’t take him up on the last part. Joel preferred a woman who was begging for it. Tommy didn’t have the stomach for it otherwise. But the rest was enough to stick around for.

Joel was coming back to a campsite one night after a few hours hunting. It was dark, he could see the glow of the fires from the camp from far away, even through the trees. As he got closer, he could hear the camp, too. The voices around the central fires further away, the wet sounds and desperate grunts of the men taking advantage of the last part of Davis’ offer closer.

He had to walk through the area where the captives were held as he went to find Davis at the center, the women bound to trees without any other way to contain them. Just one of the many downsides of moving to a new place. Because none of these assholes could keep it in their fucking pants for longer than a few hours let alone the days it took to relocate.

As he passed close to one, he almost couldn’t help but look. It turned his stomach but it was like a train wreck, he couldn’t turn away.

The woman was on her hands and knees, crying and letting out sharp little sobs as the man behind her fucked into her without mercy. Her head hung low, like she was struggling to even do that much. Joel knew what happened once they got to this point. They usually didn’t have long then, either falling asleep and not waking up or one of the men killing her. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident. Joel was pretty certain that, either way, it was a mercy. Hell, there were still days where he wished he’d fail at staying alive, just so that it’d be over and it wasn’t his fault. That he’d get bit, shot. That he’d be on his own or with one of the fucking dipshits from the crew and they both wound up dead. That’d be a mercy.

He was just about to look away hope that he could tune out the sound when the woman looked up, her eyes meeting his, vulnerable and pleading. But then they shifted. Her whole being did, until she wasn’t a nameless, wretched thing, until she had a form he knew.

Suddenly, they weren’t just any eyes. They were yours. Eyes he knew so well, eyes he looked into from across a table or in his bed, eyes that he loved so dearly. And it was you there, at the mercy of this man, face slick with tears, those eyes desperate and begging.

“Joel!” You stretched an arm out for him. You were sobbing, your voice cracking and thick and wet. “Joel, please, help me, please help me, please make it stop, please Joel, I’m begging you, please…”

He tried to make himself move. Tried to make himself do anything at all as you stretched and reached for him, your fingers extended as far as you could push them. He wanted to kill the man touching you, wanted to rip you away from him and wrap you up and hold you close and promise you that it would be OK. He wanted to destroy anything that had ever harmed you, even if that meant destroying himself, too.

You begged him until you were choking on it and he couldn’t make himself move to help you.

Because he hadn’t. He’d never helped the women in your position. He’d valued his and Tommy’s safety with the crew more than those lives. He’d been so numb to it all he’d barely even thought twice about it.

“Not my job to help you,” he felt himself say it far more than he directed himself to. The words felt alien, cold and cruel and inhuman. But they were his. “Why would I?”

He turned his back on you then even though he was screaming at himself to stop, to turn back, to do something - anything - to save you.

But he couldn’t undo what had happened. Couldn’t fix what he’d already done. Couldn’t change the fact that you were right about him.

You’re just like them.

Joel jerked awake, covered in sweat in spite of the cold air and panting for breath. He’d rolled in the night so his deaf ear was facing up and he fell back onto his back, staring at the ceiling. It was still dark, though what little light there was from the moon that was behind the storm clouds reflected and amplified by the new fallen snow. His stomach churned, his chest tight from the horror of watching someone hurt you. He wanted to vomit but realized, suddenly, that he hadn’t eaten anything since noon. There wasn’t anything in him to expel but he wished there was. He wanted there to be something he could excise, something that he could rip out as though that would make him good again in your eyes. If it would he’d do it. Carve out any organ, swallow any poison, it didn’t matter. He would do it for you, give it to you. It all belonged to you, now, anyway.

There was a creak on the front step and he shot up off the couch, heart pounding, but it was Ellie and not you who came in the door. He frowned, getting up and meeting her there as she kicked the snow off her boots.

“What were you doin’ out there?” Joel asked, closing the door behind her and helping her out of her coat before rubbing his hands over her shoulders and arms, trying to warm her up. “Dangerous in a storm like this, Baby Girl…”

“It didn’t feel right to just have Bambi be on her own if she was as upset as you were,” Ellie said.

Joel sighed.

“Kiddo…”

“She’s not at home, Joel.”

His blood ran cold.

“Ellie….”

“She’s not at the stables, either,” she said. “I don’t know where she is, Joel, but she’s gone.”

***

You needed to find your daughter.

You needed a gun. You needed a horse. You needed to bring Savvy home.

You needed to talk to Maria.

It was slow going, moving through the snow. The wind was against you, cold and sharp and you realized you were wearing Joel’s coat and one of his shirts underneath it. It made your skin crawl.

When you got to Maria’s, you pounded on her door, stripping out of the coat and the shirt even though the wind was howling as you waited for her.

You knew it must have only taken a minute but it felt like an eternity of waiting. Every minute you wasted was a minute longer she was with them. It had already been so long, so so long.

“Bambi?” Maria frowned. “Jesus, you must he half frozen…”

“I need a gun,” you said, goosebumps prickling over your flesh.

“What you need is to put on your damn coat…”

“Don’t want it,” you thrust it at her and she almost jumped but took it. “I need a gun, Maria. Rifle is best but any gun…”

“Why?” She asked. “It’s a blizzard out there and…”

“The people the patrol brought back today,” you said as quickly as you could. “The woman they mentioned, she said the raiders had a girl, a teenaged girl. I’m going to find her and I need a fucking gun, are you going to give me one or not?” `

“No,” she shook her head. “No, it’s too dangerous to send anyone out right now and…”

You smacked your hand against the door frame, making her jump.

“I already had this fucking conversation with Joel and I’m going. Now. You can either give me the fucking gun or I’ll go out there with nothing but what’s in this fucking pack but I’m going.”

She searched your face for a second before she sighed and opened her door wider. You stomped inside, snow clinging to your boots. Maria opened her coat closet and pulled out a winter coat, holding it out to you. You frowned for a moment.

“You need that, too,” she said. “Give me a minute, we have a rifle here in a safe. With ammo. But you have to bring it back, you hear me? You need to make it back.”

You pulled on the coat and zipped it up. There was a hat and gloves in the pockets and you put those on, too. Maria came back with the gun and she handed it to you. It didn’t have the good scope, Tommy must have taken that one out on patrol, but you didn’t care.

“If you just wait a day or two for the storm to clear…” Maria began but you cut her off.

“Not leaving her with them any longer than I have to,” you slung the gun over your arm. You were glad William wasn’t in the room, probably already in bed though you weren’t sure what time it was now. He reminded you so much of how Savvy looked at his age, the unruly curl of his hair and the deep warmth of his big eyes. You weren’t sure you could bear to look at him in that moment. “Thank you, for this. I appreciate it.”

“I meant it when you said you needed to make it back,” she replied. “So you’d better make it back.”

You looked at her for a second.

“I’ll do my best.”

You left her there, Joel’s shirt and coat draped over the back of her couch. You went to the stable and saddled up Ares. He was the biggest horse, he’d make it through the snow the best, survive what might be waiting on the other end of this the best. You needed him to make it. You had to make it.

The directions from the group you’d found were vague but they were enough to set you in what you hoped was the right direction. You had to demand to leave at the gate - threatening to go get Maria if they didn’t let you out - but, before too long, you were underway.

It was miserable weather but you hardly noticed it. You were thankful for it, in a way. You wouldn’t need to watch your back in weather like this, no one else would be out. Infected would freeze, raiders would be hunkered down. You could move freely.

You took advantage of it, resisting the urge to push Ares as fast as you possibly could. He’d exhaust too fast, especially moving through the snow. It was faster to pace yourself. You knew that. It just didn’t feel fast enough.

You fought not to think about what life was like with them. About what she might be suffering now. About how you’d thought Savvy was dead for years, since that day by the fire. But you still looked for her, watched for any sign of her. You still held out hope that she was out there, somewhere, just waiting for you to find her again. You couldn’t accept that she was gone, not when you’d never seen the proof, never held it in your hands.

If there was even a chance that it was her, that was enough.

You rode through the night and it was late the next day that made it to south of Kelly and started looking for signs of people, where you might find cabins. But the foot of fresh snow made that difficult, you couldn’t tell where anyone had been and the snow was still falling. You tried to think for a moment but your mind was cloudy. You hadn’t stopped for food or rest since leaving Jackson what had to be 20 hours earlier. You hadn’t slept in even longer. There was a sort of manic energy running through your veins, a singular focus that kept you breathing and your mind focused: Find Savvy.

You tried to remember what the landscape around Kelly looked like, where the mountains eased and where finding these cabins might be simpler. You thought you had an idea of a place to start and you pointed Ares in that direction, his footsteps heavy and plodding after you’d pushed him for so long.

It was getting dark when you saw the tracks in the snow. Someone had walked through here, recently.

You followed them, your heart in your throat, the sound of Ares’ heavy breaths loud on the crisp snow.

“Gonna need you to stop right there,” a voice from your left said.

You obeyed, turning your head toward the sound. A man had his rifle drawn high, pointed at you. You didn’t like the look of him, something threatening and harsh. You fought to focus your mind, push past the cloud of exhaustion that threatened to take over you.

“Good girl,” he smirked. You clenched your jaw. “You’re in our territory now which means you’re coming with me.”

“And who are you?” You asked, brows raised.

“The difference between you dying slow and painful or surviving,” he said, stepping closer with the gun up. “Recommend you take me up on it.”

You looked at him for a moment. He was probably with the men who had her. Raiders were too territorial, there wouldn’t be multiple groups on the outskirts of Kelly like this if they weren’t working together.

“Now,” he said, adjusting his grip on the rifle. “Why don’t you get off that pretty horse of yours and come with me.”

You obeyed and he came over to you, looping his hand through the strap of the rifle. He smiled when you didn’t argue with him on it. You didn’t mind it much, at least not yet. He was going to take you there. You could kill him with your bare hands once you found them.

He took your gun and took the reins for Ares and nodded to the space in front of him. He aimed his rifle at you and you put your hands up.

“Walk ahead,” he said. “I’ll tell ya where to go.”

“Alright,” you said, fighting to keep your voice calm.

Part of you knew you should be afraid. The shadow of that feeling was there, the echo of it. You were sure he was taking you somewhere you’d be outnumbered. You’d be fighting to get two people out instead of one, you were exhausted and weakening. You doubted you could even push Ares into a full gallup now, he was going to fall asleep the second you got where you were going.

None of that really mattered, though. If it wasn’t Savvy, you weren’t sure you had much of a reason to try and live. Jackson held Joel, just the thought of him too gutting and painful to even really consider him, and a life that you didn’t want anymore if you couldn’t give it to you child, too.

You’d gotten remarkably close to the group without the man’s help, as it happened. You were only walking about half a mile through the woods when you came upon a small cluster of cabins, not unlike the ones you’d called home for 20 years. Smoke curled up from the chimney of the center one and you thought, for a moment, that it would be picturesque under other circumstances. The fresh snow bowing the limbs of the pine trees toward the ground, the soft glow from the fire in the window, the humble nobility of the log structures themselves.

He tied Ares to a tree and turned back to you.

“Middle cabin,” he said, nudging you between the shoulder blades with his gun toward the one with the fire inside. “Move.”

You obeyed that command, too. Your heart beat so hard that, for half a moment, you were worried it might give out. But it didn’t.

The man stepped around you to open the door and you went in ahead of him, the rifle at your back.

“Shit, Fred,” one of the three men in the room said, looking you up and down. “Didn’t know you’d find a friend…”

You ignored him, looking around, forcing your eyes to move slowly. The firelight was dim, the corners were dark, you could miss something.

You almost did. It took you a moment to spot her, the girl in the corner.

It wasn’t her. It wasn’t Savvy.

The world tilted for a moment. It wasn’t her. You’d come her to find Savvy and it wasn’t her, you were supposed to find her, you’d promised to take care of her, you’d promised. You’d promised to protect her and it wasn’t her.

“Hey!” One of the men’s voices snapped you back into reality. “What, you a fuckin’ moron? I said get over here. Want to see what our new toy brings to the table.”

You looked over your shoulder at the man who’d brought you there, the one who’d promised you survival over slow and painful death.

“You heard ‘em.”

You nodded once and looked to the girl in the corner. She looked like she was about Ellie’s age, almost certainly younger than 20, with dirty blonde hair and pale skin and that half dead look on her face that told you she probably wasn’t leaving here even if you could save her.

But you owed her a better end than these men would give her.

And there was a chance they’d seen Savvy. You just wouldn’t know until you pulled the information out of them.

It was like you decided what to do after you started doing it. You were moving for the man behind you before you fully realized what was happening. You lunged for him and he clearly wasn’t expecting it, ripping your rifle from his hold and slamming the butt of it against his skull.

He collapsed to the ground and you whipped the gun around in front of you, shooting the first man before any of them fully understood what was going on.

The second started moving for a gun but you shot him in the shoulder before he got to it. The third was faster, going for the girl in the corner and pressing a knife to her throat.

“I’ll do it,” he said, panting for breath as you prowled closer. “Don’t give a fuck, I’ll kill her right now.”

“Put down the knife,” you said through gritted teeth. “Now.”

“Not until we have a deal,” he said. “Not about to just let you kill me.”

The girl was watching you, her eyes wide but flat, nothing behind them at all.

“Close your eyes,” you said to her, making your voice gentle.

“Don’t tell her…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence. You shot him in the head, his whole body jerking before he collapsed to the earth. The girl’s eyes went wide and she clutched her hand to her throat. It only took a moment before the blood started pouring through her fingers.

“Shit,” you threw the strap of the gun over your shoulder and ran to her, crossing the small room in just a few steps. She scrambled back from you as she struggled to breathe, pressing her back against the wall. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

She looked you up and down, her eyes darting, before she reached out to you with the hand not at her throat. You moved closer and she grabbed your arm, her fingers digging into your skin, clutching onto you desperately. You cautiously put your arms around her and she all but collapsed against you, her hand still at her throat, her breaths coming in short, wet pants.

“It’s OK,” you said quietly, your voice thick. “I’m sorry, it’ll be OK, it’s not going to hurt anymore, it’ll be OK…”

She just nodded and you watched her already pale skin grow paler, her blood coating your arms and your legs. You kept talking to her, promising her that it would be OK, until you felt her breathing slow and stop. You held onto her for a few minutes. You brushed her hair back from her face, cradled her softly to you before you lowered her gently to the ground.

“Don’t worry,” you said quietly. “Won’t leave you here with them.”

Her eyes were open, wide and green and dead. You closed them gently and tucked her hair behind her ear.

You slung the rifle and your pack off your back and freed your knife, going for the one man you hadn’t shot, just knocked unconscious. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him toward the fireplace as he started to groan. You searched him quickly to make sure he didn’t have a sidearm or a knife of his own but he didn’t seem to. You straightened up and brought your foot with all your weight down on his forearm, snapping the bones there. He jerked awake with a pained cry, shooting up. You pulled your boot from his arm and put it in his chest, forcing him back to the ground.

“What the fuck!” He moaned, looking around at the carnage you’d wrought in that room.

You adjusted your knife and knelt, putting your knee in the man’s chest and grabbing a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look at you.

“I’m lookin’ for information,” you said. Your accent was thick when you were worked up. You had a drawl now. “And you’re gonna give it to me.”

“Not gonna tell you shit,” he spat.

“Maybe not,” you said. “But I’m still gonna try to get it outta you. Should know, I don’t know what I’m doin’. Just watched someone do it once. Someone like you.” Your stomach churned at that. “Might fuck it up. Might push you too far. Just have to see.”

You took the knife and sank it in between two ribs on his left side and he screamed. You held it there and watched him writhe below you. Some part of you knew you should feel something about this. Something bad hurting another person. Something good in getting retribution. But you were numb to it.

“Fuck!” He tried to throw you with his unbroken arm but you left the knife embedded in his side and caught it before he properly reached you. You dropped his head and it thudded into the ground before you gripped his arm with both hands and twisted it, watching as you forced his bones into unnatural positions as he screamed and you felt the give of them when they broke. You dropped the arm and grabbed his hair again.

“You taken teenaged girls before?” You asked. He didn’t respond, his eyes wild and darting, as though there was something here that would help him. You sighed and gave his head a sharp shake and his eyes locked on yours. “Pay. Attention. Told you, don’t know what I’m doin’, might push you too far. Should want to give me what I want so I can stop hurting you, right?”

“Who are you?” He managed around his panting breaths.

“Don’t you know?” You cocked your head a little. “I’m what stands between you and a slow death or a quick one. Give me exactly what I want and maybe I’ll even let you live.”

You weren’t going to. He didn’t need to know that.

“Now, tell me,” you continued. “Have you taken teenaged girls before?”

You twisted the knife between his ribs this time and he screamed with it.

“Yes!” He sobbed below you. “Yes, yes, we have…”

“How many?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“I…” he panted for breath. “I don’t know for sure… four? Five?”

You nodded and pulled the knife from his side and held it for a moment.

“Do you remember any of their names?” You asked.

He frowned, clearly puzzled. You signed and plunged the blade in between two other ribs and he screamed.

“No!” He managed once he calmed down again. “No, we didn’t… didn’t focus on their names.”

You nodded and rapped your fingers along the handle of the knife.

“What did they look like?” You asked. “Any of them have brown skin, brown eyes, dark curly hair? Would be 14 now?”

He frowned at you, like he was just piecing it together. You gritted your teeth and twisted the knife and he screamed again, his legs kicking uselessly behind you.

“Asked you a fucking question!” You yelled. “Now tell me. Any of those girls fit that description?”

“She a friend of yours?” The man asked. “Tell you now, all the girls we’ve had? They’re dead. Every last one of ‘em…”

You dropped his hair and grabbed him by the chin, digging your nails into his cheeks.

“Asked you a fucking question!” You yelled back. “Better answer it otherwise only use you are to me is fun. Think I’ll like hurting you, once I get the practice…”

“No!” He said quickly. “No, no we didn’t take anyone like that, we didn’t, never seen anyone like that. Closest I got was a woman, she was closer to your age, not who you’re lookin’ for…”

You looked at him for a moment. You thought he was telling the truth. But you couldn’t be sure.

“Please,” he panted. “Please just…”

You pulled the knife from his side and he gasped, his eyes wide in shock, before you plunged it into his throat. He couldn’t scream around it, only choke on it as his blood started to pour into his chest.

You pulled the knife from him and wiped it on a part of his shirt that looked clean enough and you got to your feet, watching him bleed for a moment before sheathing the knife and going back for the body of the girl.

But you fell before you could get there, the hand of the second man you shot flying out and grabbing your ankle as you passed him. You caught yourself before your face smacked into the ground and he scrambled on top of you, grabbing your hair, his fingers harsh on your scalp, slamming your face into the ground. Your head spun and you felt blood on your face as you scrambled to at least turn over in his clumsy hold. But once you were on your back, he was sitting on your stomach, a vicious and bloody grimace on his face.

“You really thought you could just fuckin’ kill us?” He growled. You could see the hole where you’d shot him, his shoulder bloody and open. “Thought you could just end it there? Huh? Fucking bitch.”

He grabbed the knife from where you’d dropped it as it fell and thrust it into your right shoulder, making you gasp in shock. He smirked, distracted by his own victory. You didn’t go for the knife or even his hands in his moment of distraction. Instead, you reached for his bullet wound, thrusting your thumb into the ragged hole and pulling on his damaged flesh. He screamed and shocked back from you. It gave you the space to grab the knife from your shoulder and thrust it into his neck, just like you’d done to his friend. You shoved him off of you before you were too covered in his blood and you stood there while he bled, watching to make sure he was dead this time before you took the knife and wiped off the blade before putting it in your back pocket.

You shoved yourself to your feet and went for the girl. Her body already felt a little cooler than you remembered and you lifted her gently into your arms, the wound at your shoulder screaming in pain. You ignored it.

“It’s OK,” you said softly. “Not gonna leave you here with them…”

You maneuvered her through the door and to your horse, draping her limp body over the saddle. Ares huffed and you brushed his velvet muzzle with your hand. It left a bloody print behind.

“It’s OK,” you said, this time to your horse. “Not goin’ far. Then… then we’ll figure it out.”

You untied him from the tree and led him away from the cabin, leaving the door to the bloody scene inside wide open. You didn’t care.

You only walked about a mile before you found a place to set the girl down. It was pretty, you thought. The trees were so covered in snow and frost that they sparkled in the moonlight. You put her body down against a wide trunk, one that had roots that formed an almost comfortable looking seat with a cushion of snow. You arranged her so it looked like she might have just fallen asleep there when she’d stopped to rest or enjoy the sight, her head leaned back on the trunk, her hands together in her lap. You frowned as you arranged her hands, a leather bracelet on one wrist. You traced over it with your thumb and you realized that it was stamped with something, some beading on either side of the lettering. You carefully removed it and held it into a beam of moonlight. The name Lacy had been put into the leather.

You slipped it on your wrist and tightened the ties before turning back to the girl.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Lacy,” you said, the hot pinch of tears at the back of your throat. “You deserved so much better. I’m so sorry.”

You stood and looked at her for a moment. You wished you knew anything about this girl. If this was a place she would have liked, what her favorite food was, if she had a family.

But you had no way of knowing any of it. You turned back to Ares and took his bridle in your left hand, your right side in too much pain from the knife wound and carrying Lacy to even think about controlling him with it.

“C’mon boy,” you said. “Let’s get some distance, find… find a place to rest.”

You weren’t sure how long you walked with him. It felt like a long time but it was still dark when you gave up. Every step was hard. You could barely lift your feet and you snagged your boot on a tree root in the snow, sending you sprawling onto the ground with a pained groan.

Ares’ nose appeared at the back of your neck, his breath hot on your skin and you tried to get up but couldn’t find the strength to. Instead, you just rolled over, the horse hovering over you. Your head was light and your vision was fuzzy and you couldn’t feel a lot of your body anymore.

You tried to raise a hand to pet his large head but you couldn’t even summon the will to do that, your arm only coming a few inches off the ground before falling back into the snow.

It took you a second to realize that you’d felt this way before. Dying had been a lot like this, bleeding in the snow. And then Joel had found you. Saved you. Made you love him. Made you trust him.

“You’ll be OK,” you said to Ares. He huffed. “You… you were wild once, before I broke you. Wasn’t that long ago. You can live out here just… just fine without me.”

He lowered himself to the ground, almost in response. His large head curved around your body to rest on your stomach and you managed to rase a hand enough to rest it on him. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the heat of the animal instead of the feeling of the snow seeping into your clothes.

You stayed like that for a while. You were barely conscious when large hands pulled you from the cold of the earth and into a warm, broad body.

Next Chapter

A/N: I know, this was another rough one.

Feel free to yell at me. I promise, I read all the comments even though I haven't been great about replying lately. I plan to soon, I promise! I love each and every one of them and I love each and every one of you, too.

Thanks for being here through the rough parts of this fic. I appreciate you!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro@h-annahayy@starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg@fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

180 notes · View notes

genderqueerdykes · 2 months ago

Note

I really really appreciate the posts about fat acceptance and stuff. I used to be pretty underweight but I've definitely gained weight (and muscle too I'm sure) on HRT, the way it sits/distrubuted on me is something that is hard to see sometimes and there's a lot of parental commentary about fat people that needs to be worked on.

hey, you're welcome! i'm glad you agree

gaining weight isn't always bad, in fact for many people, it can be an outright blessing. people can have a wide variety of conditions that can lead them to being chronically underweight, and putting on even a few pounds was seen as a huge accomplishment and a safety net. my best friend is this way

even if it's not required for one's health, putting on weight isn't inherently bad. every person's body has a range in which it attempts to naturally sit for their baseline weight. this will vary greatly from person to person based off of activity levels, hormone levels, genetics, individual dietary needs vs. dietary intake, digestive issues, eating disorders, allergies, food intolerance, neurodivergence, developmental disorders, and more.

the way i see it is it becomes very obvious to a person when their weight has actually come to negatively affect them. this will be marked in a decline in energy, feeling fatigued and malaise most of the time, headaches, difficulty getting out of bed, increased chronic pain including pain while standing or walking, breathing difficulties, difficulty walking/moving long distances for reasons not due to joint or connective tissue health, becoming pre/diabetic suddenly if one was not before, and/or other health complications that were not present before the amount of weight was gained

most fat, chubby, etc. people are sitting well within the healthy range for their body without realizing it. our bodies are great at telling us what they need it's just hard to listen when we're busy, exhausted, and/or neurodivergent. many people have a good idea of what their body needs but get talked or shamed out of doing what's right for them. parents, like you said, are especially uptight and strict about weight for seemingly no reason.

i've always been fat my whole life. once i reached my teen years i began to hover around the 300 lb range and that's where i've always been. my mom was fat and so was my dad, and both of their families. my mom projected so much of her fatphobia on to me it was unreal. she would critcize me any time i wanted a snack by asking "you're eating again?" and other dumb shit. children are growing and active, they need a lot of food, especially for good brain function (yes, our brains need fuel, revolutionary concept, i know)

i don't understand why parents desperately NEED their children to be physically attractive to them. can we talk about this? i know it's uncomfortable but this is a huge parental issue. i am SO tired of hearing parents go ON AND ON about how "beautiful" or "handsome" their children are. it's extremely creepy, there's no reason to focus on their appearance like that. some parents become SO distressed when their children are not conventionally attractive, as if it makes them less attractive by proxy. it's insanely creepy. a child's conventional beauty or lack there of should be of no concern to a parent- why do some parents obsess over this? it gives the child severe body image issues and it's not a good level of vanity to project on to a kid

anyway, it's okay to be fat, especially if you find you're not struggling with pain or mobility. some people will have pain and mobility issues no matter what weight they're at. everyone's different. someone's weight is their own concern and nobody else's, unless there is medical significance in which case it is between them and their medical team. not every fat person has health issues due to their weight, in fact, most do not. it's okay to let your body be the weight it wants to be

nobody should have to constantly feel like they have to be fighting their own biology just to look "more attractive". people are attractive when they look the most like their real, natural selves. it's way more flattering and it's better for the individual. don't expect other people to go through hell just to look "good". just let people be themselves. let people feel good, and feel good about themselves. worry about yourselves when it comes to appearance

anyway, thank you for the feedback, i really appreciate it! i will always be here for other fat folk because i've gone through many interesting situations with diet and health and my weight always sits around the 300 mark give or take 20 lbs in either direction. my lowest weight as an adult was 260 lbs. my highest was 360. muscle tissue plays a huge factor in this right now for me. i have clothes in my closet that range from literally Small all the way up to XXXL and they all fit me just fine. weight isn't as big of a deal as people think it is, it's a very neutral thing most of the time

#asks #answers #fat lib #fat liberation #weight #health #weight talk

43 notes · View notes

yandere-kokeshi · 1 year ago

Note

thank you for wishing me well regarding my chronic pain. may i request a könig or ghost headcanon or drabble of a gender neutral y/n with a shoulder pain kind of chronic pain? like, being unable to carry anything heavy, limited movements, and needing help with simple tasks as they heal? thank you in advance!

— Yandere Ghost and König with gn darling who has shoulder pain from chronic illness

Warnings: yandere behavior, and talks about chronic illness.

A/N: I did both and headcanons! Hope that doesn’t make you upset. Enjoy <3!

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

He takes your health very seriously– always reminding you to never overwork yourself, even if you feel obligated to finish a chore/or assignment that you know will leave you sore. And if you require help, you ask him, and he’ll do it.

To an extent, he understands your pain. But he knows he’s not you, and you aren’t him; plus, pain is much more than a 1-to-10 scale ratio. He may be used to it now, but he remembers the sleepless nights, sharp pain electrifying everywhere in your joints, dreams of imagination of being painless, and exhaustion that holds tight onto you. He knows how awful it is, and seeing you in pain makes him uncomfortable.

With this said, Simon understands that all you need is care, love, and patience. Moving to-room-to-room could take so much out of you, even lifting a book has you gritting in pain, to which he takes care of you — easily taking it out of your hands. He often carries you, asking if you require anything else, and places you down wherever you like in the rooms.

To no surprise, Simon knows how to deal with pain: bringing you pain meds prescribed by your doctors, surprising you with your favorite snacks, running you a bath with bath–salts, or even going out of his way to massage your swollen joints, but only if you want him to.

Having limited movement because of your own pain leaves Simon’s really close to you. He’s at your beck and call, never forcing you to move, always groaning as he gets up from the bed to retrieve your choice of hobby, gladly fixing the blankets around your body and making himself comfortable beside you again. His arms around you, tracing lines in your skin as he asks what you want to watch on TV.

Simon does everything around the house for you without being asked. It’s how he shows his affection, other than being physically touchy, but he isn’t one for lovey-dovey words. Within the stance of you resting, you might have an ounce of guilt and try to help him — which he quickly refuses.

About the third time you get up, despite his warnings, he’s carrying you back to bed, grouching that you need to rest, not worry about him, and that you deserve as much rest as possible.

For the days when it’s hard to do self-care, he doesn’t judge and is more than happy to help you. Brushing your teeth for you in bed, gently changing your clothes, bringing in facial wipes, and ensuring you take your night meds; letting you lay on his chest, tracing the outline of your face, and giving himself a bit of a relief, as you’re slowly getting better.

König:

Attentive to your needs, kissing the side of your head as he reminds you to take it easy. König is fretting over you, always checking in and hopes that if he makes you something, it’ll ease your pain. But it’s never that easy. He realizes that it isn’t enough, that it’s more than you just feeling bad.

He’s babying you, and while he knows you’re capable of doing things, especially since you have had this forever, König would hate for you to extend your pain, or worse, have to go to the hospital due to a dislocation.

Because of this, he carries a lot of things in the house — constantly saying ‘no’ when you’re about to grab the groceries, or helping out with the dishes. He focuses on doing the chores, multitasking on doing the laundry, and coming in every 15 minutes to check up on you.

Chronic pain is difficult. He knows there’s medication, things that he will and can get for you to soothe the pain, but he doesn’t know the extent of your pain. So, when you express the burning sensation, or the pins-and-needles, he takes your words and works on making it decrease. König carries you, letting you lay on the freshly made bed, and asking what you want to do, as it’s a lazy-loving day for the two of you.

He’s constantly around you — gifting you things, your favorite foods, drinks, or whatever you feel at the moment. He’s always bringing you fresh-washed blankets, ducking them in tightly and kissing your forehead before sitting right next to you, hand on your thigh.

When the days of not feeling good, and you can’t leave the bed with how sore you are, he’s there, hand-feeding you soups, and praising you on how well you’re doing. He’s carrying you to the bath, starting the water to a nice temperature and having you strip; turning around for privacy before helping you in when you’re ready. König, of course, helps with washing your body and hair, kissing your skin gently as he asks what you want for dinner.

König lets you know that it’s okay, and you’re okay. He’s coddling you, always by your side and on your side, letting you lay in bed, and helping you stretch in order to regain a bit of flexibility. He knows it hurts, he sees your barely-down-to-tears, but this is necessary and he’s sorry.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

313 notes · View notes

doberbutts · 5 months ago

Note

My apologies about the weird ask! I saw pictures of ballet dancers bloody feet and let it color my view of it, figured if its painful for people with five toes it would be hell for anyone with more than that. Not that they couldn’t or shouldn’t do it, but that it’d be harsher on their feet. As someone who has wide feet that has a hard time with pointed shoes I was wincing 😅 sorry again should’ve kept it to myself

Oh, you're talking about images like this?

Tbh this is fairly extreme and mostly you see this with ill-fitting shoes or with professionals who don't give their feet a break (bc they can't, bc this is their livelihood). Dancing small time competitions in the local rec center shouldn't do this to your feet unless your shoes really suck or your instructor is very hard on you (by ballet standards- ballet instructors are stereotypically fairly tough anyway).

However, ballet does permanently change the way your foot is shaped and the way your joints work.

Not just your feet but your whole body. Especially when started very young, so since I started at 4 and I have a bazillion things wrong with me anyway I was kind of pre-destined to have some problems from ballet later in life. Don't get me wrong, there were also many benefits, and I LIKE ballet, but ballet and foot problems later in life kind of go hand in hand regardless of what your foot was shaped like when you were born.

It's a rigorous discipline and people don't take it seriously because it's seen as hyperfeminine and also because they see how effortless the dancers make the moves look, and they don't see the work it takes to create that visual. So it's very shocking when non-dancers happen upon images or discussions of the drawbacks.

As said before, I never went en pointe due to ankle weakness I couldn't quite fix, so that photo where her ankle is bent at an extreme angle? Yeah my instructor wouldn't let me go en pointe bc she was afraid I'd snap the bones in my ankle the second I tried that move. Ballet flats aren't nearly as bad on your feet as pointe shoes (pointe shoes are in each of those photos), so it wasn't the shoe itself that beat up my feet but the wear and tear of executing the dance moves.

These are flats- much more flexible than pointe shoes and what young children learn on before their skill and development reaches a safe point to graduate to pointe shoes. They're really just a piece of soft leather or satin held on by a stretchy band. Little kids should never be in pointe shoes and I genuinely caution anyone whose instructor told them it was safe before hitting double digits to find a different instructor for whatever kid before they do massive, permanent damage to their feet. Pretty much every medical study out there says you should be at least 11, and preferably 13-15, before you move off of flats.

My instructor believed the same. I stopped ballet because I was tested twice before being allowed to go en pointe and both times failed due to ankle weakness, at about 13-15. So in high school I switched disciplines because otherwise I'd be a teenager dancing with a bunch of little kids still in flats.

THAT BEING SAID I do feel the need to clarify that I have not had extra toes or fingers after my first week of life, because they were banded pretty much immediately after birth and fell off shortly thereafter. So I wasn't some 6-toed kid forcing myself into an unforgiving wooden shoe, I was a 5-toed kid in effectively soft leather moccasins that just happened to have slightly wider feet than you'd expect. I'm not putting photos of my feet on this blog but unless I point it out you wouldn't really be able to tell I was born with extras until I show you the remnants of the little "shelf" where the extras would have grown out of.

I do appreciate the concern- just keep in mind how it might be coming across next time.

58 notes · View notes

weemssapphic · 1 year ago

Note

Do you think you could do a fic where the reader has a chronic illness? I don’t have a preference for which Gwendoline Christie character you choose, they’re all lovely. Any genre 💗💗💗

A/N: thank you SO much for this request. as a chronically ill girlie i love the idea of writing more fics like this - both hurt/comfort style but i guess also just reader having an illness and it being apart of their every day life. huge thank you to @eveymay for helping me brainstorm characters and settle on jan stevens - i think she'd be the most considerate, sweetest person to comfort someone. and thank you so much to @milfsloverblog for helping me to beta - i trust her as my number one source for everything jan stevens. anyway i hope you enjoy 💖

slow down, you’re doing fine

Jan Stevens x reader

Words: ~2.8k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: hurt/comfort, discussion of chronic pain and illness (symptoms such as fatigue, pain, dizziness, brain fog, nausea), migraine

“Hurry up! We’re leaving, you’re going to be late.” Elle’s words were accompanied by a knock on the bathroom door, and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw.

“Just go ahead without me, I’ll catch up,” you replied - you heard a huff, and then the shuffle of footsteps moving away from the door. With a sigh, you directed your gaze into the mirror, regarding yourself carefully as your lips settled into a deep frown. You looked tired. Fitting, considering how poorly you’d been sleeping this past week. So not only did you feel like shit today - you looked like shit, too. Cool.

You’d started your residency at the Sonic Catering Institute with your group a few months ago and so far it had been like a dream come true. You finally had the time to devote yourself 100% to the pursuit of art - nearly all your time was spent rehearsing, experimenting and performing. Every day was dedicated to your craft, and it was your version of bliss.

But even bliss was hard to enjoy with a chronic illness - you constantly felt as though you were seconds away from crumbling, as though one bad day could take away everything you’d worked so hard to achieve. You’d been having a flare-up the past few days (as you seemed to have every few weeks lately, almost like clockwork) - every evening you would go to bed and pray that, come morning, your body would afford you some brief reprieve. It never really did, of course - today was no different.

A dull throbbing could be felt behind your eyes - ever present, but no less painful or frustrating - and your joints ached before you’d even moved a muscle. You’d briefly considered staying in bed today - getting up meant facing the day, meant facing your body. But staying in bed meant having to call in sick - it meant curious looks from your bandmates, it meant disappointing Jan Stevens.

Oh, Jan - infamous, enigmatic director of the Sonic Catering Institute. Your relationship was still fairly new and, well… undefined. She flirted with you relentlessly, and you flirted back, though neither of you had made a move yet. Sometimes you caught her watching you, or staring at your lips a bit too long as you spoke, but someone else was always there to interrupt the two of you. Still, you found yourself dying to impress Jan, to get closer to her, to be with her even.

So, no, staying in bed wasn’t an option. It’s not like it would magically make you feel better anyway. You’d still feel like shit - you’d just be in bed instead.

After a few minutes of just holding yourself up on the edge of the sink, you went about your morning routine, mechanically half-assing all the necessary steps - brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, splashing water on your face.

Getting dressed was a little more challenging - it was the more exhausting part of your routine, and it was on days like today that you wished you’d chosen some stupid work-from-home job at a computer instead of your current career, if only so that you could show up to work in your pajamas and no one would care. A small (or maybe not all that small) part of your mind wandered to Jan, however, so you grimaced as you attempted to look your best for her.

~~~

Getting through the day was more of a challenge than you thought it would be. During your weekly meeting to go over notes and changes to performance techniques, you were seated directly next to Elle as she engaged in a heated discussion with Jan - Elle’s raised voice directly in your ear was enough to make your head pound viciously. You wouldn’t take pain meds yet, though - you didn’t want to risk them wearing off before the concert tonight.

Every so often, Jan’s impenetrable gaze would flick over to you. She seemed to be able to tell that something was off - red lips pursing in thought, deep blue eyes regarding you curiously under heavy black lashes.

Elle ended up storming out of the meeting, with Lamina close behind, already beginning to argue with her. Stones excused himself, one hand on his stomach as he rushed out of the room. That left you and Jan as you slowly packed your things, feeling her gaze upon you.

Jan flashed you a smile and stood from her seat, walking over to your side of the table with her voluminous white skirt swishing behind her. She perched herself on the edge of the table in front of you, placing a hand on the papers you were about to pick up, effectively stilling your movements.

“Well, well, I finally have you alone,” she said playfully as she loomed over you - her height was as intimidating to you as it was attractive, and you swallowed visibly.

“Jan Stevens.” You tilted your head in acknowledgement. Normally, you would have thrilled at such an opportunity - right now, though, you wished you were curled up in a ball in bed.

You attempted to slide your papers out from underneath Jan’s hand - her eyes dropped to the table and she placed her hand over yours. “They’re so pretty - your hands, I mean. Here, let’s compare sizes.” She lifted her hand and nodded eagerly at you - mesmerized, you couldn’t help but place your palm against hers - it was larger than your own, her fingers longer. It was surprisingly warm and oh so soft and you felt a spark of electricity go through your body when your bare skin touched hers.

“Oh! Look how well they fit together.” Jan’s lips pulled into a wide grin and she batted her lashes, her fingers curling slightly around yours. “A perfect match!”

You flushed, feeling a warmth rising in your face, and you pulled your hand away with a timid smile. “Y-yeah.”

Perhaps, if you’d felt a little better, a little less like complete garbage, you might have had the energy to flirt back - but it seemed your traitorous body couldn’t even let you have that much, unable to summon up the effort for a witty comeback.

Jan’s brows knit together, her lips parted slightly as she searched your face. “Are you alright?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You offered her a weak smile. Jan looked skeptical, watching as you stuffed your papers into your bag and stood - too quickly, apparently, as you swayed slightly and your vision became hazy around the edges. You tipped forward a bit, catching yourself on the table and taking deep breaths, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

Jan pushed off the table in an instant, standing behind you and placing a hand on the small of your back - you couldn’t help but shiver.

“Are you not feeling well, darling?” she asked, her voice gentle and breathy.

“What?” You gave her your best doe eyes, hoping she wouldn’t probe you further. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Will you be alright to perform tonight?” You could sense the anxiety radiating off of her in waves - you knew how much pressure she’d been under lately, and it was one more reason why you couldn’t let her down.

“Yes, of course.” You used all the effort you could summon up to beam at her, hoping it would set her mind at ease. “Please, don’t worry about me.”

Jan looked slightly unconvinced, but she nodded and smiled all the same.

“Then I’ll see you tonight,” she murmured. With a curious glance and a moment’s hesitation, she leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your skin tingled pleasantly where her lips had been moments before, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. She reached out a hand to help you stand, watching as you left the room.

~~~

The rest of the afternoon passed by torturously slowly as you attempted to avoid all human interaction and wait for your pain meds to kick in - they never did. The concert was even worse. Your body was screaming at you to get some rest, but you couldn’t risk your residency - and, most of all, you didn’t want to let Jan down. So you tried to smile through it, pretending like the sound of the flanger wasn’t making your head pulse and like standing for an hour and a half wasn’t making your body ache and like the stuffy air, filled with the scent of various cooking foods, wasn’t making you feel dizzy and extremely nauseous.

And then there was the orgy after the concert - the mere thought of attending made you feel ill. You wanted to - you knew Jan would be there watching, and you would do anything for Jan. But a wave of nausea hit you just before entering the room, so you rushed to the bathroom instead. You left the bathroom door open - everyone else was at the orgy, surely no one would even notice you were gone. You sat on the floor in front of the toilet, a cool, damp washcloth pressed to your forehead. The nausea had begun to settle, but you were so tired and the bathroom tiles were pleasantly cool, so you stayed there, eyes closed, head leaned back against the wall.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the clicking of approaching heels - it wasn’t until you heard a voice in the doorway that you jumped a bit, your eyes snapping open.

“You’re not feeling well.”

Jan Stevens looked down at you, eyes flooded with concern. It wasn’t a question - rather, it was a statement - and you almost tried to deny it - then your eyes flicked to the toilet in front of you and you realized you couldn’t hide from Jan any longer.

“Yeah… I feel like shit, to be honest,” you admitted quietly, not quite able to meet Jan’s gaze - afraid of the disappointment you’d surely see there.

The taller woman surprised you by stepping towards you and sliding down the wall until she was sitting next to you - close enough for her scent, light and floral, to fill your nostrils, but not close enough to touch you. You looked at her curiously.

“I’ve been missing you tonight. I was wondering where you’d gone.”

The thought of Jan Stevens - the Jan Stevens - missing you made your stomach do a somersault, your heart beginning to pound violently.

“I had a date with an old friend,” you joked, tilting your head towards the toilet. Jan’s lips curved up into a smile, before she turned serious again.

“You’re ill. You could have told me.” Her voice held no reproach or anger - it was soft and gentle; if anything, she sounded worried. “You could have stayed in bed today, skipped the concert.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint or- or worry anyone. Especially you.” You added that last part quietly but from the way Jan’s eyes widened, you were certain she’d heard you loud and clear.

You chewed your lip as you searched for the right words - a way to convey how you felt without giving cause for too much concern. “If I stayed in bed every time I felt like this, I don’t think I’d ever get out of bed.” You tried to keep your voice light, chuckling slightly - one of your biggest fears was always being misunderstood, not being taken seriously, being seen as useless due to your illness.

Jan reached out for your hand, threading her fingers between your own.

“What is it? Can you describe it to me?”

No one had ever really asked for details about your illness before - some people asked to be polite, but Jan seemed so sincere, like she really cared. You cleared your throat nervously. “Well, part of it is chronic migraines. They’re, uh… not really treatable. I get nauseous a lot, and sometimes I get dizzy when I stand. I’m also really, um, tired all the time? Tired isn’t the right word, it’s more like exhausted. And it’s not just my head that hurts, it’s everything, all the time.”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “Doctors haven’t figured out why yet, it’s kind of hard to be taken seriously. But sometimes it’s bearable, you know? Like, it’s there but I can deal with it. But sometimes I flare up and that’s… harder.”

Jan nodded along as you spoke, her eyes scanning your face with great interest - when you finished, she was silent for a moment. Just as you began to wonder if you’d said too much, she stood and reached out her arms to you.

“Come with me,” she said. You furrowed your brow but allowed her to pull you into a standing position, and then she took you by the arm and escorted you out of the bathroom - you didn’t realize where she was leading you until you were ushered into her bedroom, the door closing behind you.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable here tonight. It’s just me here, you know. And you won’t have to worry about the others getting back late and disturbing your sleep.” She regarded you carefully, some emotion you couldn’t quite identify swimming in her cerulean pools.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, nerves washing over you as you looked around the spacious room, eyeing the large, luxurious bed. “You’re right, that does sound nice. I just…”

“What is it?” Jan asked, suddenly looking utterly nervous.

“I don’t want to impose, is all - this is your private space and-”

“Is it imposing if I want you here, darling?” Jan cut you off, her lashes fluttering as she watched you drink in the space.

“Uh… no, I suppose not.” You smiled hesitantly - Jan’s smile matched your own.

“Then you just stay right here, darling. I’ll get you something to wear.”

Jan left you standing at the center of the room to head to her walk-in closet, coming back with a pair of silk pajamas and directing you to her en-suite bathroom, where she pointed out an extra toothbrush. Soon you were ready for bed and, at Jan’s insistence, you settled back on the plush mattress - it was large and comfortable, and you found your fatigued body sinking into it, your eyes fluttering closed in momentary bliss.

When you opened your eyes, Jan stood at the edge of the bed watching you, a small, adoring smile playing on her lips.

“I suppose you’d like to go back to the orgy then?” you asked quietly, feeling a familiar gnawing sense of guilt at taking up too much of Jan’s time, at asking too much from her and taking too much.

Jan hesitated, stepping even closer to the bed. “What if I want to stay here with you? Will you have me?”

“Of course,” you breathed, your stomach fluttering and your eyes widening.

A wide smile bloomed on Jan’s face, and she left the room for a minute, her hips swaying and her dress swishing back and forth. She came back in light pink, silk pajamas with a matching bonnet that had two long bunny ears dangling from the sides, perching herself on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t help yourself - you pushed yourself up and ran a hand over one of the silky, dangly ears and let out a giggle.

“What?” Jan eyed you curiously.

“Nothing,” you said sheepishly, your face flushing. “I just find you very endearing, Jan Stevens.”

That remark earned you the warmest smile you’d ever received.

After such a long day, lying in the warmest, most comfortable bed you’ve slept in in a while, you allowed your body to go limp. The aches and pains were still present, of course they were, but exhaustion was slowly taking over and your eyelids were beginning to grow heavy as Jan tucked you securely under the duvet. Jan’s scent surrounded you - it was everywhere: on her sheets, her pillows, her clothes, clinging to the air. On her, as she snuggled in next to you, eyeing you intently - those deep blue irises sparkling with adoration.

A question formed on the tip of your tongue, one that suddenly began to nag you as you felt the pull of sleep, one that you couldn’t leave unasked: “Will I still be welcome here in the morning?” It came out a low mumble as you tried not to let your sudden apprehension become too apparent.

Jan furrowed her brow, her face falling slightly as adoration and awe morphed into confusion and concern in equal parts. “Of course, silly.” She gave you a reassuring smile and placed a warm hand on your arm as she scooted closer to you, daring to rest her head on your chest. “You know, I’d like to have you in my bed when you aren’t in pain, too.”

Your belly tingled pleasantly as a shy smile spread across your face. “I’d like that very much.”

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69 @Ssappling2004 @yourlocaldisneyvillain @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillah-ofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @willowshadenox @mysaviorfalsegod @sweetderacine @im-a-carnivorous-plant

Join my taglist here! :)

#jan stevens #jan stevens x reader #flux gourmet #gwendoline christie #jan stevens flux gourmet

227 notes · View notes

autistic-duck · 4 months ago

Text

It really sucks when you realize that a survivor's mentality is not a sustainable model for working full-time.

I can't go into every day thinking, “Oh, if the bathroom is occupied during lunch then I'll just wait to pee when I get home” because that is survival. I'm just surviving until I can get to a safe time and place. I am literally holding in pee for eight hours straight, feeling more and more pain because I can't figure out a better time to go to the bathroom.

I can't keep doing that.

Every day, it becomes, “If you can just sit still for a couple more hours, you'll get to move a little bit.”

Or, “if you can just hold in the tears until you can sneak into an empty room, you'll be able to make it through the day without anyone knowing you're upset.”

(Click “keep reading” to hear a more detailed explanation)

I started work this week, and I had completely forgotten just how awful it is to try and exist in a way that doesn't seem off-putting (or scary) to other people.

I had to do two eight-hour blocks of time alone away from home, which I hadn't done since high school, and I'm already realizing that my old methods no longer work.

I legitimately can't mask the entire day anymore. I can feel my joints groaning under the stress. My cells are feverish with the desire to stim. My mind is slowly melting under the fluorescent lights. The voices, the droning voices of professionals, buzz in my head and make no sense. I take notes, but the words look like no language I've ever spoken.

I can't keep pretending to understand what's going on.

But I'm also new to telling people that I'm disabled. The only people who know are immediate family and friends and the psychology clinic that diagnosed me. I want to be proud and confident, to just ask for and demand help, but I can't imagine anyone actually believing me. Nobody helps me when I ask for something because they decide it isn't important.

My sensory issues aren't “bad enough.” My social struggles are just “excuses to be rude.” My stimming is “attention seeking.”

Why did I choose education as the field to go into? I'm not cut out for this new “customer service” teacher mentality. I have to have good interactions with everyone all the time? Just so parents want to send their kids to our schools? How is that even possible? I have a hard time smiling at people who are nice to me, so how do you expect me to smile when someone is yelling at me for failing their student because they didn't turn in their work?

The education system is broken, and I'm just one disabled person who is just now realizing that their disability might actually stop them from keeping their dream job.

How do you advocate for yourself when you grew up thinking that self-advocacy was selfish and evil?

I literally just realized that I can't eat food or respond to greetings if I'm stressed. Showering used to make me feel relaxed before bed, and now it's the only thing preventing me from crying right before sleeping.

I want to learn Spanish, write in my journal, cook healthy meals, exercise in the morning, drink plenty of water, sleep comfortably at night, and spend time with friends who don't make me feel guilty for existing. I want to be able to go to the bathroom whenever I need to. Why does that feel impossible now?

If anyone has experience with advocating for a disability, especially high-functioning and heavily masked autism, I'd really like advice. Who do I talk to? What do I ask for? How do I explain my struggles and keep a job?

#autism awareness #actually autistic #autism #high functioning autism #level 1 autism #autism spectrum disorder #actually neurodivergent #autism pride #asd #actuallyautistic #late diagnosed autistic #disability advocacy #disability advice

32 notes · View notes

wheelie-sick · 3 months ago

Note

was it difficult getting a wheelchair prescription/referral for eds? and how has your experience with deconditioning been? was the switch to wheelchair from other mobility aids worth it? i have eds and am expected to get a wheelchair prescription later this year and i’m anxious about how the appointment will go

while I would love to help you my wheelchair is not primarily for hEDS 😅

[proceeds to write a really long fucking post with answers anyways]

anyways it's beneath the cut

I had a very easy time getting a referral because I have numerous comorbidities and my wheelchair was primarily for miserable malalignment. it was done in combination with the hEDS and lupus.

I'll still answer the other questions though

deconditioning

deconditioning was and is a very huge struggle for me especially because in the past I was a near full time wheelchair user and occasionally was completely unable to weight bear for about a month at a time. this meant I was basically doing no walking. this had all the consequences of doing no walking. I haven't had physical therapy in a long time either (even though I should) which did not help the situation.

I didn't really notice the deconditioned until I started shifting back to walking more. my legs were extremely weak and I was having a hard time walking short distances. I definitely had to build up to longer ones and it was a slow process.

I now walk significantly more--I'd say about 30% of the time--which is not a large number but it's enough to keep my legs strong enough that I can do things like hike sometimes. I do try to keep up with PT exercises. I am bad at it but anything is better than nothing.

basically my point is walk as much as possible and do your physical therapy

I will say that to some extent the muscle you build in your arms does make up for the muscle lost in your legs. it's not a 1:1 but it's not like you're losing muscle and gaining none- you are gaining some.

other mobility aids

god this is another one that's really influenced by other factors that weren't hEDS but I'll answer it anyways and try to pick out what's hEDS and what's not.

when I got my wheelchair referal I had active, untreated lupus leaving me unable to make it to the bathroom more than 1-2 times a day. when I got my wheelchair I had worse active, untreated lupus and was in and out of the hospital. I was also struggling to make it to the bathroom and was not eating (in part because I was throwing all of it up, in part because the campus dining hall was outside my radius of movement even with my hospital wheelchair) my point with this is that I needed that wheelchair pretty desperately. I had a hospital wheelchair, it was very difficult to use because it was 4 inches too large. I did use it, it was my primary mobility aid, but it limited my life a lot. it was more a "go to the bathroom" mobility aid than a "go to my classes" mobility aid

active lupus likes to attack your connective tissue a lot so it was also making my joints more unstable. couldn't figure out where to include this in the last paragraph but part of the cause of my pain was lupus' impact on my hEDS joints.

when I got my custom wheelchair I started using it for just about everything immediately because it was the most freeing thing I had ever experienced. (I got to leave my dorm building!!!!! I got to leave my dorm building!!!!!!!!!!!!)

[ID: a window selfie taken in a window with decals saying "UNM lobos" the person is sitting in a rigid manual wheelchair with his arm on the wheel]

look at me outside my dorm building for the first time in a month!!!! you can't see it but I was so absolutely thrilled

so was it worth it for me? yes, 1000× yes. I cried when I first moved around in it in the ATP's office

hEDS and the switch

so while it was absolutely worth it for me I wanted to share some of the factors that are actually hEDS related (though most of these are influenced by other parts of my disorder cocktail)

when it comes to pros, I do experience a lot of pain from hEDS and my leg pain is very mitigated by my wheelchair. when it comes to cons my shoulders have new pain! it's awful. when it comes to pros, my wheelchair is fit in a way that really helps alleviate my back pain from SI joint in instability-- if your chair doesn't have a good backrest SI joint pain will get worse, get a good backrest (I personally recommend the varilite icon so much thst they should start paying me for the advertising) it also supports my comorbid scoliosis a lot. it's useful during comorbid POTS flares but my POTS is pretty well managed now so that's mostly irrelevant for me (and you have to be careful using wheelchairs for POTS because they can decondition you and make things worse in the long run)

speaking of deconditioning you already seem pretty aware of deconditioning concerns so I won't dive into that one

it has made my joint dislocations & subluxations much less frequent because mine were primarily happening in my knees. it has made elbow subluxations a revived problem

basically it's what you'd expect- easier on the lower body harder on the upper body. also your spine. there's a lot of stress on your spine using a wheelchair so you have to take that into account. push for a good backrest, consider one that's medium height (at least, depending on other needs) understand you will probably throw your back out multiple times.

was it worth it with hEDS for me? I'd say yeah. while my wheelchair is not primarily for hEDS, hEDS is still a large component in it.

this was very rambly, sorry about that, I am writing this at 3 am, I hope this helps some?

I wish you so much luck getting your wheelchair they are so life changing and I hope you find it to be worth it!!!!! 💕💕

#ask #physical disability #physically disabled #wheelchair user #elhers danlos syndrome #EDS #hEDS

21 notes · View notes

sillylandmagic · 2 months ago

Text

Any other autistics have cerebral palsy? I feel like people don’t talk about the added struggles it adds in terms of doing basic daily things, and how others see you cause of it.

I can’t bring a spoon to my mouth without the food falling off because of dexterity issues with both autism and cerebral palsy. So I have to stick my head down with my hair getting in it to be able to open my mouth and just eat the food off the spoon, and even that’s hard because of chewing and swallowing difficulties associated with cerebral palsy. This is especially difficult when eating in public as this seen as gross.

I cannot use my fingers to scrub my hair in shower, because of this, I have to use my palms and move the soap around. My hair doesn’t get fully clean. I’ve regressed in the ability to wash my body, so I can’t wash it. It goes dirty. I can very thankfully wash my parts, but it’s still very difficult to the point of it being painful.

I can’t shave or trim and body hair because I can’t coordinate the movements. I can’t do any self care other than some difficulty with brushing my hair.

According to my IEP papers, I have mild cerebral palsy with deficits in balance, coordination, and motor skills. It doesn’t specifically say ataxic cerebral palsy, but that’s what my physical therapist is trying to say on the paper. My ataxia causes very bad leg pain that I’ve had since a baby because of my ankle pronation(basically where your ankles roll inwards). Causing valgus which hurts my knees. It’s very likely that I have some form of leg length discrepancy, which is where your pelvis tilts, making one leg longer.

I have episodes where all my joints cramp up, causing lots of pain; because of my posture which is because of my ataxia. Along with the physical pain there’s mental pain, I have other brain damage that causes severe processing issues, and cognitive impairments. I’m not in speech therapy any more, but my speech is still impacted. This ties in with having autism too so it makes me slur my words, which is why I can only speak in short sentences. Growing up when I tried to talk more, it was not understandable and very stuttered.

Kids would laugh at me for the way I walked, and called me retarted. Yell at me to go faster, and were and are just assholes. My eyesight is affected, I have retinopathy of prematurity, it corrected itself. But my vision is still impacted, I need 7.50 prescription and have impaired depth perception. Causing difficulty for all BADLS.

That being said, having both higher needs autism and having cerebral palsy makes it significantly harder to live really. I went through 5 years of occupational therapy, 8 years of speech therapy, and am still doing physical therapy. It has improved my independence, but it’s still affected.

I hope this shows you others with cerebral palsy and autism, that you aren’t alone. I’m proud of you folks no matter what. You matter.

#autism #actually autistic #developmental disabilities #i/dd #borderline intellectual disability #cognitive disability #intellectual disability #medium support needs #semiverbal #semispeaking #cerebral palsy #ataxia #cripplepunk

18 notes · View notes

darkanddirtyknb · 5 months ago

Text

Personal Update

Hello, my beautiful like-minded creatures in the flesh,

It’s been a while since I gave an update, and I thought one was long overdue. If I’m wrong about this and you don’t care to read about my personal life (I really don’t blame you), please go on about your day. I hope it’s a great one! If you are interested, I will clue you into what’s been happening.

As usual, I have already had many medical appointments this year and many more to come. I had a procedure done on my right shoulder last month (happy July, by the way!) to see if we can get a steroid concoction to help me. If it doesn’t (it’s been touch and go so far), I will need to have a different, more painful procedure done. I’m still playing around with medication, trying new things, getting new side effects, and finding out that my body is pretty much anti-all pills. It’s super frustrating, to be honest. I’m all for being clean, and I think that less is usually best, but in my case, I’m getting no relief anywhere. I’m not sleeping. The brain fog is worse than ever, my memory is awful, joint pain, neuropathy, and muscle fatigue are worse, etc… All in all, the physical stuff is different in a few ways, but pretty much the same.

However, I’ve been in a down spell with my mental health. The depression lately has been impressive, really. I work hard daily to stay positive and keep my head above water, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t back-breaking work. That alone makes it hard to be productive, but I’m forcing myself to do things—it’s unfortunate because writing hasn’t been one of them. I want to, and the urge is there, but my memory and ability to form sentences are making it extremely hard, and writing seems impossible right now. Even writing this has been a journey and not a good one. Very bad, in fact. Think boggy marsh full of mosquitoes, mud-filled shoes, and sweltering, humid heat. I’m working hard to get out of the swamp and onto a tropical island, but until then, this is where I’m at—overrun by anxiety, depression, and medical hang-ups. I’m working with my therapist, though. Soon, I will be starting EMDR. That should be fun. I’ve been touching on a lot of trauma lately, so hopefully unlocking all of it and putting it in the right place will help me move forward.

There’s more, but I think you’re all smart cookies, and you got the gist of things. This update has become long enough. I hope that you’re all doing well by staying happy, healthy, and living life to its fullest! I mean that. Truly. I care about all of you, even if we don’t talk much or at all in some cases.

Take care and be safe. The world is as terrifying as it is beautiful right now.

With all my love, Kai (your local disturbed homo)

#out of bounds #update #where's the love for yellow man #it's earned it's place in the rainbow

24 notes · View notes

jeynearrynofthevale · 1 year ago

Text

Just watched the Connor McDavid: Whatever it Takes documentary and my main takeaway is that he’s insane but here are a bunch of random notes and pics:

““If it was up to my mom, we probably would’ve been a skiing family”

The drive, that’s who he is, he’s always been that way, since he was probably 3 or 4, he refused to let his parents help him get dressed and he would carry his bag everywhere, the bag was bigger than he was

“He’s intense and he’s competitive”

Bobby Orr said when he was 15 that he was gonna be the greatest skater to ever play

Tracy Wilson: Olympian and skating coach “what I love about Connor is it’s all about power, doesn’t matter how it looks, it’s about getting there”

Kassian “we haven’t seen a player like that in the game in maybe forever”

McDavid “at the end of the day, you’re still playing an nhl game, but that’s not much to hang your hat on” in reference to being out of the playoffs

“Right on the post square and I just felt the pain right away, thought I’d just broken my leg into a couple pieces”

They keep replaying him going into the net at top speed and it’s fucking horrible to watch

He whispered to me “I think it’s broke”- Kassian

“I was having flashbacks to Stamkos’s energy and I know stammer really well”

Stamkos texted therapist: “did he break his tibia?”

“If I could do it all over again, you’d like to take it back”- giordano

Team physical therapist asked if he could move his leg and told him he could either try to get up or call the gurney. Connor said “no, no, no” and stood up even though he was worried and thought his leg was going to give out”

“I held it together until we got though the tunnel and then I was just a mess” it took them 10 minutes to get back to the room

He said “stop, just give me a second”

3 guys had to hold him up the way back

Lauren “it was really hard when he called me, he just said “I think I broke my leg””

Brian “he was really upset and in pain, as a parent it’s hard”

Kelly: “it’s the worst thing in the world”

“Maybe in hindsight it would’ve been better if it was broken”

Never realized the infamous scene where Leon squeezes Connor in the hallway is from this.

Grade 2 strain of his pcl

“Hey dad, just want you to know I’m going for a second opinion in Colorado Springs”

Doctor told him it was a full pcl tear where tears on bth sides of his miniscus, “tore the popliteus right of the bone”

Full reconstruction of the knee, pcl, and popliteus would require a year recovery, doctor said he needed to do it asap, within a few day

“He was distraught, very, very under described”

His mom wanted him to have the surgery

Surgical intervention is to give it stability back

Had to make decision in 48hrs about whether or not to operate.

“He was very emotional and it was very difficult for him to talk.”

3rd opinion in LA: 2nd doctor is right about the issues but thinks the surgery is risky and doesn’t believe in it, wants to try to rehab it

Had to make that decision at 22 in 24 hours

Pcl cut right in half, back of knee joint completely torn, popliteus also completely torn, lateral and medial meniscus are both torn, crack in front of tibia from where he hit the post

“Hockey is my life”

He wanted to hear that he didn’t need surgery

His rehab guy literally lived with him

7 days a week, 10 hrs a day

50% chance to get him maybe skating again by end of summer

He was in a hyperbaric chamber daily for 40 days, 2 hours at a time

Claustrophobic in a literal tube

“At one point, doctor cleared him to flex his quad muscle”

They had to keep the injury as secret as possible, didn’t tell Ken Holland how bad it was

He would call his mom right after every mri appointment

He was in the pool all the time working on his knee

While rehabbing, his core specialist was like “might as well work on everything while we’re stuck here” and they worked on his core, pelvic floor, rotational movement, spine, everything

Gymnastics coach also helped

Didn’t want him to skate till September

He went on the ice with just his dad on his doc’s recommendation before September

He was so happy to be back on the ice with his father, completely changed emotionally that day

You can really see how much he loves just skating

He was so happy to know that even if he couldn’t fully heal he could still go on with the brace and skate

He’s so smooth in these skating exercises while in an insane brace

“One thing to be out there playing the game but another to do it at the level he was capable of”

Tracy Wilson did in their own words “edging” with him for afternoons, taking him through all sorts of movements and exercises without his brace

Opening night started to look like a possibility

He wanted to be there for training camp

He decided not to participate in biosteel

He wanted to play in all 7 exhibition games even though most veterans only did 4

“Like my first game all over again”

Seeing him on opening night was incredible for his training people

Okay, seeing the canucks slashing at him and shoving him into the boards in the home opener is now making me so protective

“He willed himself back”

#Connor McDavid #97 #hockey #oilers #Edmonton oilers #McDavid #cmd #mcjesus

98 notes · View notes

h-didanart · 3 months ago

Text

The time none of you were waiting for has come… it is time for me to dump lore on you all. ‘Who is it today?’ I hear no one ask, why our vengeful pal Agony Ghost Bloodmoon of course!

Agony Ghost is a variation of the Quiet Throes au, in which Bloodmoon ends up dying after The Bastard’s murder attempt. They are extremely fucking pissed and will basically do everything in their power to make Ruin’s life as miserable as it can be. Though I haven’t shared more lore than that, and what I just said wasn’t exactly stated out loud mostly just assumed, and I do have some more lore about how the events at the end of October would play out. So without further ado, here is the lore dump:

As always purple = always has been, blue = recently came up with, green = I just made it up

Trigger warnings- referenced and implied torture and sa

They woke up and immediately were in pain. Every single joint in their body ached, moving hurt, they were given no time to even process where they were.

After a few minutes of them getting used to the ache they looked around and were confused by their sudden change in location, they had been in the Daycare hadn’t they? Why were they at this dusty old lab— Solar’s dusty old lab?

They got up, wincing at their unsteady legs and just now realizing their clothes felt different, just as much as their body. They had been freaking out before and they were freaking out now, they had no idea what happened. They tried to make sense of it all, tried to remember anything that could help them.

And then they did remember. The bad day they had, them blowing up at Ruin, Ruin immobilizing them… all the pain

Their reaction was about the same as chapter five’s, ie. they had a really bad panic attack. Only this time no one came to help them.

It then hit them what could possibly be their situation: they were dead, and Ruin had killed them.

They wanted to believe they weren’t and this was all a weird out of body experience or whatever, Harvest did at least, but when Solar walked into the room he didn’t even spare a glance at them, more focused on a table in the back. They followed him in confusion and on the table saw… themselves.

And that is how they knew.

They were dead.

And Ruin had killed them.

They kinda just stayed in that room for the most part. They watched Solar come by and do stuff in the computers, they watched as their unmoving body remained lifeless, they tried to bring one another comfort but for once it didn’t work.

No matter how hard they tried they couldn’t stop the overwhelming distress and sorrow, it was almost like that’s all they could feel. And anger, in small bursts, towards themselves for letting it get to this point.

It would also be good to add at this point, between having the memories from the start and being able to see the damages their body sustained, the twins are able to figure out what exactly Ruin put in them and what he did with it.

Disgust and horror wouldn’t even begin to describe what they felt.

They laid on the ground for hours on end, not having anything else to do, hopelessness eating away at what remained of themselves. After a while Solar walked by, mumbling something about tools or whatever, quieting down as he spotted the twin’s corpse on the table.

They thought he’d finally put it in the trash, or take what was salvageable to use as spare parts.

They did not expect for him to approach slowly, placing a hand on the table, taking a deep sigh and barely whispering, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you”

This was their enemy, someone they’d only made a deal with to deal with an issue for them both.

They killed his family, they tried to kill him, and when they are the ones to die he apologizes?

They think for a bit, remembering Solar’s daily check ups since their deal, how they hadn’t seen him that damned day. They remember their senses slipping away slowly as the oil dripped from them, pain dulling and darkness turning to static. They remember a faint shake, something wrapped around their waist, and a feeling of weightlessness before everything truly went away.

He tried to save them.

He did save them.

He just couldn’t save their lives. He… cared enough to try.

He cared.

There was someone who cared.

They had someone who cared.

They follow him around since then, watching him work, curling up beside him, just being around. He makes their anguish lessen.

Through the confrontation they stick by his side. And after the fact as well.

They eye the “cured” Ruin warily, glad that their Solar wasn’t fool enough to fall for the charade. Who would after knowing the shit he did to them? They glare at the broken bastard, for once their anger not directed towards themselves.

It’s a while later when Solar has some free time, he goes back to the lab for their body.

They follow him to a place they faintly recognize, some sort of place to look at the stars, and watch as he buries it under a leafless tree. They both stand there, staring at what would be their resting place.

It feels bad but is also kinda nice.

He had covered them before they died, he had gotten them a pretty grave.

They sometimes wonder what could’ve been if they had lived, if in death he showed this care.

They keep following Solar for a long while, discovering their ability to float, and how they can move things if they really focus. This second one was tested on Ruin, they pushed him off the balcony. It was very funny.

The twins got ideas from this, and having nothing better to do, decided to act on them. Moving things around, a shove here and there, messing with the environment, they started stalking Ruin and making his life difficult.

It was relatively light punishment for what the bastard did, but it brought them glee nevertheless. And then one day, as they were in the Fazcade, they watched the Bastard sneak around, Solar coming by a few moments later, only for Ruin to knock him out. Bloodmoon stared, and a moment later were by their Solar’s side.

It was the first time they showed themselves to someone, and the real start of the haunting.

They’ve been tormenting The Bastard ever since.

Only he can see them, they only speak to him. His patience has deteriorated, it is harder for him to act. They enjoy watching him struggle to keep the facade, watching as he frustratedly cries over whatever plans he had being delayed.

They’ve inadvertently delayed both the creation of Eclipse III and the multiversal collapse. They didn’t even know Ruin was still scheming, though they did figure out he had a clear mind all through October, his reaction to seeing them was all they needed to know. They felt oddly vindicated by that, that it was actually him and not some easily cured virus.

Their feelings of dread and sorrow have mostly shifted to rage and hate, something they’re more familiar and far more comfortable with.

They’ll keep him alive and suffering for as long as they can.

They’ll make him pay for what he did, it’s really only fair.

AND that’s their lore story wise! I’m cheering them on quite frankly, they deserve to go feral on Ruin, make his life hell. Anyways, I’m gonna go on a ramble about their design now because there are a bunch of little details that are there and I want to point out—

First off, the clothes. They are wearing what they had on when they died, so the hoodie, gloves, scarf(?), and the cape Solar tied around their waist, granted I did make that longer both because of the more ghostly look and because I don’t want to draw their legs. Speaking of, their legs are just as messed up as what’s described, basically mutilated, they will fall over if they fully materialize. Their right wrist is broken, hand always in some uncomfortable looking angle, it’s hard to control but they still can move it. Their left eye’s light fully went out, so it’s just a black socket with the occasional white pupil when they’re extra mad or trying to be scary, y’know, FNaF style. The tear tracks in their face are both because of the FNaF ghost style and because they did have those as they died. And not in their physical design but their voice box is broken, static comes out alongside their voice, and they also cannot speak very loud.

More doodles of them :3

Yes that Moon plushy is meant to be an indirect way of representing how messed up their legs are.

#tsams #sams #sams au #tw implied torture #tw implied sa #sams bloodmoon #tsams bloodmoon #Quiet Throes in Pooling Oil #agony ghost BM #lore dump #I got attached to them #maybe you guys will too!

14 notes · View notes