#Club Foot Surgery

[ankleandfootcentersofamerica]

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Icy II

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: You think about your life

When you first moved from Norway and your childhood team of SK Brann, you weren't quite sure what to expect.

You were nervous and anxious and that didn't settle at all even as you headed out of the airport to meet up with Ingrid.

You'd like to think you knew Ingrid fairly well, or at least well enough that she was letting you take her spare room. You'd been called up for the past three Norway camps, though you hadn't actually set foot on the pitch.

You'd come up through Brann's Academy, the top assister in the under-nineteen team and had even been called up to the first team on occasion.

That's where you think Barcelona heard of you because suddenly the La Masia version of your youth team was making the long trek to cold Norway in the height of winter to play a friendly.

They completely demolished your team but you had been serving perfect assists into the box those scant few times you had possession of the ball.

It wasn't even a week later that they were offering you a contract. You'd assumed it was for the B team but clearly the club saw something in you because the contract was for the first team and soon you were flying over to Spain to move in with Ingrid.

She wasn't alone as you approached her car, talking to a woman you recognised as Mapi León.

You didn't speak Spanish, that much was always obvious. You only spoke passable English as well so communication with your new teammates was something that was at the front of your mind.

But Mapi just smiled at you and sounded out a sentence she had clearly memorised in Norwegian to help settle you.

You liked Mapi, you decided in the instant and decided that you would actually try hard in your Spanish lessons so you could communicate with her properly without Ingrid as the go between.

You had a day or two to settle in your new home but ultimately meeting your new teammates had come along too quickly for your liking.

You knew Ingrid, of course. You kind of knew Mapi.

You knew Caro as well. You usual position was hers so you had worked closely at Norway camp together.

She'd come out to meet you, Ingrid and Mapi in the car park.

Caro existed on your wavelength. You were both quiet and a little socially awkward. You both played the same position. You understood each other.

You weren't huggers though. You had never really received a lot of affection as a kid, just a quick head pat when you exceeded your parents' already high expectation for you.

You weren't a hugger. Caro wasn't a hugger but the way her arm rested over your shoulders was support enough.

Meeting the team was something that sent you into a bit of a tailspin. All those world class players and you.

If Ingrid hadn't been behind you, a gentle hand pushing you forward, you were sure that you would have bolted.

She was a steady presence then and now as she lays in bed with you.

You think she feels bad about yelling at you. You think she also feels bad about not getting a hold of your parents until hours after the incident. If you hadn't been in unimaginable pain, you would have warned Ingrid that your parents rarely answered if it wasn't a formal email.

Ingrid's been stuck to you since you woke up, waiting hand and foot on you. You feel bad about that. It's just a broken wrist. It was just a little surgery. You don't need her to cater to your every need. You don't want to bother her like that.

"Have the painkillers kicked in yet?"

With your wrist still strapped up, you couldn't feel much pain apart from when it moved so Ingrid had dosed you up on as much medication as possible.

She'd done the same with Mapi an hour ago so her girlfriend was currently asleep in bed while Ingrid waits for the same to happen to you.

"Mmm," You grunt.

"That's not an answer," She teases," Have they kicked in yet?"

You try to tilt your wrist, a little hard to do in your cast but you still try. "Mostly. A little twinge."

You can feel Ingrid nod behind you.

"I think it's naptime."

"I'm not a baby."

"Mapi's napping. Is she a baby?"

You don't even have to think. "Yes."

Ingrid laughs behind you, hands untangling the knots in your hair. "The doctor said that a nap would probably help."

You huff.

You've never been much of a napper. You always liked to be doing something even if that something was cleaning up your room or reading a book.

"Fine."

You roll over on your side to lay your head against Ingrid's chest as her arm comes up around you to keep you close.

The door opens and Mapi limps in, laying her crutches on the ground to crawl into bed on Ingrid's other side.

She yawns.

"You didn't tell me we were having a sleepover," She complains sleepily, pulling some of the blankets away from you.

"We weren't." The painkillers have fully kicked in now so you're drowsy as well.

You know you and Mapi are talking but it's all jumbled up in your brain.

Ingrid feels the moment you go to sleep, the steady train of nonsense coming out of your mouth slows down and you go completely limp.

Mapi falls asleep soon after as well, her yapping coming to a close mid sentence as you both snooze comfortably on her chest.

This wasn't quite the plan.

Get Mapi to sleep.

Get you to sleep.

Then make dinner.

That was the plan but you're both crowded around Ingrid's body on your little bed that barely fits you all and Ingrid doesn't want to move and wake you.

Bagheera jumps onto the bed.

"Don't," Ingrid laughs but Bagheera ignores her.

She settles comfortably in Ingrid's stomach and falls asleep too, leaving Ingrid well and truly pinned down.

It's fine, she decides.

Both you and Mapi are out of hospital.

You can just order food when everyone's awake.

[marigold-hills]

@wolfstarmicrofic | August 25th: win | 1000 words

CW: attempted mugging, mentions of broken bones

Remus Lupin is well aware what he looks like: the wrong side of lanky, with a nasty scar across his face from falling off a bike at five, and a nastier one down his sternum from heart surgery at fifteen. Weak knees, weaker ankles. Breakable wrists. He surrounds himself in soft things, wears sweaters and cardigans even in the summer, when his varied blood deficiencies keep him cold in the heat.

He doesn’t usually go out in the dark. His library desk job keeps his work hours to a respectable 9-to-5, and he’s not one for bars, or clubs, or any other sort of entertainment that would require him to be out in the evening.

Today? Well, there was a book signing at the library. It run late, and he was having a nice chat with the writer, managing to keep his fan-boying to a minimum (it was the James Potter, after all). There was wine, which he doesn’t usually partake in. So: it’s well past his work hours, he’s pleasantly buzzed and on a high from a successful social interaction. Then he sees him.

It’s probably the most beautiful human specimen Remus’ has ever seen. He was stunning in the library, where he accompanied the James Potter for the signing, and he is just as lovely now, in the dim unflattering streetlamps. The hair, the bone structure, the shoulders. Everything about him made Remus decide not to say a single word to him, only gape half-open-mouthed and watch from across the room.

(Doing it now, as he as good as follows him down darkened South London streets, feels roughly stalkerish. Again, Remus knows what he looks like. He’s got too big ears and slightly too big front teeth and definitely too big a nose. He wouldn’t even try to talk to someone like this, not for all the embarrassment in the world.)

Remus is slower, especially with the crutch he has had to use since he broke his ankle a month earlier. His foot is still in the awkward boot-cuff. There should be no way of him catching up, so no chance of an interaction, successful or, more likely, otherwise.

Out of the shadows, appears a figure. Hooded, wide-shouldered, knife-wielding. The beautiful friend of James Potter doesn’t notice until the man is almost on him, knife pointed at the Nirvana logo on his T-shirt.

Remus can’t hear what’s said, but he doesn’t really need to. He’s lived in South London all his life, from Lambeth to Peckham - he’s seen his fair share of muggings.

Something comes over him. Maybe the late hour, maybe the wine. Maybe the impossible wrongness of a man so pretty being in such a situation. Whatever it is, before he even thinks about it, he’s somehow caught up.

Next thing he knows, he’s behind the mugger.

Next thing after that, the heavy, metal leg of his crutch makes heavy, violent contact with the side of the mugger’s head.

He falls to the ground in a heap of limbs and dark fabric and dropped knifes and for a terrible second Remus thinks:

“Fuck. I think I killed him.”

Through the wine-haze or adrenaline-haze, or maybe your-dodgy-heart-finally-gave-in-haze, he realises he said it out loud.

The pretty man leans down and checks the muggers head, then his pulse. “He’s fine. Well. He’s probably concussed. That was a mean hit,” he looks at Remus with something like appreciation in his eyes. “Thank you, Remus. Lucky you were here, or he’d have probably made off with my phone.”

“You know my name?” Remus asks rather dumbly. The answer is obvious and self evident because the man just said it.

“Of course I do. I’ve been watching you all night,” the cheekiest smile Remus has ever seen. The man prods the prone mugger with the tip of his shoe. “Who knew it’d take something like this to actually get you to talk to me.”

“Huh,” Remus says. (He has a degree in literature, he should really be able to string a sentence together with some intelligence, but apparently it has abandoned him.)

“Should probably call an ambulance.”

And that brings Remus out of his stupor. “You’re hurt?” He just stops himself from checking the man over, hands itching to reach out and feel for the damage.

“For this one. Can’t really leave him just lying on the side of the road.”

“Oh. Right, of course.”

“And they’ll probably arrest him, while they’re at it. Win-win.”

“Silver linings.”

The man – Remus doesn’t know his name – laughs at that. It’s oddly dog like and on another person it’d be too much, too loud, but on him? Perfection. Remus wants to ask to record it. Maybe playing it in the evenings will cure his insomnia.

Adrenaline wearing off, Remus realises that his broken ankle hurts way more than it should. More than it has for a while. The same amount as…

“I’ve re-broken my ankle,” he doesn’t mean to blurt out loud. There’s immediate concern in the man’s face. Remus half-sits half-slumps down to the pavement. “Yup. I’m pretty sure I’ve re-broken my ankle. Fantastic.”

That’s what he gets for chasing down would-be-muggers down the streets of London. It’s probably some cosmic price to pay for hearing that laugh. It must be delirium: Remus thinks it’s worth it.

There are gentle hands on the side of his face, guiding it upward, and gentle eyes full on sincerity. “Thank you for helping me,” the man says again, “let’s get you to the hospital, alright?”

Through the pain-haze or wine-buzz-haze or maybe you-just-assaulted-someone-haze, Remus becomes shameless. “Will you stay with me?”

“As long as you’ll have me,” the man says and the way he looks at Remus? Like he doesn’t have too-big ears and too-big a nose, or the scar, or the hair he can never get to behave.

Remus, more than shameless: “forever, then.”

The laugh he gets in return is somehow even better. There is nothing mocking about it. Instead, agreeable. “Alright. Forever.”

NOTES:

does this count as a meet-cute?

[etesienne]

"Beauty seekers who aspire for a pair of “manga legs” or “chopstick legs”—thin, long, and white gams as straight as chopsticks, like a manga character—“calf-muscle blocking surgery” has become trendy. The procedure removes some nerves on gastrocnemius muscle in order to slow its growth, leading to slimmer calves.

Compared with procedures like Botox, which require regular shots, calf surgery is lauded by online influencers as a "simple" one-time process to get rid of several “unimportant” and “rarely used” nerves with lasting effect, and allegedly no side effects. A hashtag related to the procedure attracted over 260 million views and 24,000 comments on Weibo in a couple of days in late May.

However, health experts pointed out that after these nerves are removed, people cannot walk as fast, or run or do other active sports that requires the use of calf muscles, without falling; moreover, their lower legs will probably recover to original size or even become deformed because of compensatory growth in other parts of the calf.

The procedure originated in France in 1985 as a way to treat club foot caused by spinal cord or cerebral injury. It was first performed as a cosmetic procedure in China around 2005, but is no longer offered at legitimate plastic surgery hospitals because the removed nerves cannot be recovered and the impact is irreversible, according to the Beijing News. Despite those warnings, two Beijing hospitals that the newspaper visited had received a flood of reservations for this service during the Dragon Boat Festival holiday from June 12 to 14."

Horrifying. What happens to these women when they're chased, in danger, at the scene of an emergency, and can't fucking run ??

[nexternalknowsthingz]

For some reason I have a lot of motivation at the moment and also because Ponyboy got the same amount of votes as Dally I will be doing his headcanons now.

TW for angst and SH and sewerslide

— Ponyboy was born prematurely, two weeks too early ( I’m unsure if this is canon or not, I’ve heard it from a lot of people but I’m putting it here just incase it is not canon )

— Due to the fact that Ponyboy was born prematurely he had a lot of issues mostly focused on his walking

— Pony had what’s called a club foot and it could’ve affected his walking, the doctors had to do a surgery to fix it

— When Pony was a baby Darry and Soda along with his parents didn’t see him a lot due to his fragile health

— The first person to hold Ponyboy ( that wasn’t his parents ) was Darry, in fact Darry was also the first one to see Pony open his eyes

— Pony was attached to his brothers, if he wasn’t with Darry he was with Soda

— Pony did have a bit of a limp growing up but as he grew up it became less apparent and by the time he was thirteen it was gone entirely

— When Pony joined track Mr And Mrs. Curtis was beyond happy and they went to every single track meet

— Pony actually didn’t mind having green eyes when he was younger but as he grew up he was often picked on by people with green eyes and he grew a dislike for his ( this hopefully makes sense )

— When Mr and Mrs. Curtis passed away Pony tried to hide his hurt so Darry and Soda wouldn’t worry about him but in doing so his emotions got so bottled up

— Pony ended up having an anxiety attack after a long argument with Darry about his grades going down in school, that is when Darry and Soda finally learned about how deeply Pony was really hurting

— Pony often felt like Darry favored Soda rather than him and it hurt him really badly ( this is canon I think? )

— When Pony was moved up a grade and put into advanced classes he was picked on by socs but kept it from his brothers

— After the events of the book Ponyboy reached an all time low and ended up cutting to cope

— Pony was on the brink of giving up and he felt like everything that happened was his fault

— One day when Pony was home alone he went to the bathroom to do his usual routine of cutting when Soda caught him in the act, everything just froze up in that moment

— Soda ended up calling Darry so he could leave work early so everyone could just talk, Pony felt guilty that Darry was leaving work early

— Darry, Soda and Pony ended up talking about everything and Pony finally let his feelings loose and let his brothers be there for him, at the same time he listened and comforted his brothers as they talked through their own greif

— When Soda was drafted and was dropped of at the airport by Darry and Pony, Pony crushed Soda in a tight hug and begged him not to go, unfortunately he had to let Soda go

— Watching Soda leave was one of the hardest things Pony had to deal with because he didn’t know if Soda would come back at all

— During the time when Soda was in Vietnam Darry and Pony supported eachother through it, it was the closest they had been in ages

— One day when Pony came back from school he walked into the living room to see Darry crying quietly while sitting on the couch, that was how Pony found out that Soda would never be coming home

— Pony didn’t even know how to react, all he could do was sink to the floor and sob his eyes out

— Pony ended up walking into Darry’s room one night a few weeks after Sodas death was announced, he saw Darry with a gun to his head

— When Pony saw that all he could do was stare at Darry with wide eyes, Darry’s eyes resembled the same shock with a hint of sadness and shame, Darry put the gun down and just kept staring at Pony. Pony just walked up to Darry and have him the tightest hug

— Pony was in shock, he came so close to loosing the last family member he had left, just that alone made Pony’s heart break

— After that incident both Darry and Pony decided that untimely they both needed to be there for each other

( okay now onto more light topics.. )

— The day of Pony’s graduation he took a moment to hug and thank Darry for everything he did for him

— Pony ended up becoming a writer and ended up publishing his theme that he turned into school years ago

— Pony was thinking of moving away from Tulsa and go somewhere else like New York but ultimately decided against it and stayed in Tulsa

— When Darry finally ended up getting married Pony was his best man and Pony never felt so much pride and proud of his big brother, seeing Darry happy with someone made Pony so happy

Okay that’s all I got! I hope you guys like these headcanons

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

BRO IM OBSESSEDDDDDDD WITH THE ABNER SMUT U DID OH MY GOD IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR A PART TWO

maybe reader gets to break him out by any chance 👀👀👀👀

Broken Collars, Lovingly Tethered - Abner Krill/Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, masturbation, a bit of violence, amateur surgery (you'll see, it's not bad), grinding, fingering, sex, and a ton of kisses.

Wordcount: 5965

Summary: Your visits weren't as free as before, but since when did that ever bother you? Maybe all you really needed was an opportunity, and, based on the whispers in the club where you worked, one was approaching very fast.

Notes: I've been wanting to write this the second I posted the first one and then got this ask hehe

You weren’t surprised when you returned a week later and found your next visit to be a little more crowded than the last one, your chair stuck opposite his as two guards took up the sides and made sure there were no more… inappropriate moments. Their presence made Abner nervous, his focus on them more than you as they sat back and didn’t pay attention but also refused to leave, his hands cuffed to the table to make sure there’d be no temptation. You, however, were free to move around, and you reached forward to hold his hands as your foot stuck out and urged him to do the same for an extra bit of contact.

‘Whoa, we’ve seen where that leads,’ the guard to your right warned when he noticed your new position, and you linked your fingers with Abner’s as a show that you were just as chained as he was.

‘No funny stuff this time, promise,’ you swore as the one to your left also looked up, Abner faltering even more now that they were both staring, ‘I just wanna talk to him, you know I’m harmless.’

‘I know you’re horny,’ Righty sneered, Lefty snickering on your other side. ‘You can get plenty better company than this guy anywhere else, you do know who he is, right? You’re just deranged and desperate and not actually dumb with a death wish?’

‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk about Abner when he’s right here,’ you just barely refrained from snapping, your hands holding his even tighter when he tried to pull away in humiliation. ‘And no, I’m none of those, I just really like him.’ The guards scoffed almost comically on time with each other as Abner stilled, and you looked him in the eye as you leaned forward until you were stopped by the hand on your shoulder. ‘I like you,’ you repeated to him, and he sat up a little more confidently when you were forced back into your chair.

‘Okay, we get it, you can keep buying this room every week until you end up broke but you can’t buy a bed in this place, so get on with your talking already before the big guy upstairs decides this isn’t worth it anymore.’ Righty went back to his phone as he talked, and you pursed your lips as you kept your leg pressed to Abner’s, his hands now as far as the chains would allow, and when you started talking about how your week had been it was like you were alone again as the other two disappeared into the background.

You kept your visits to the weekend when you were able to get done work a little earlier, the money ramping up as you filled your weekdays with as many hours as you possibly could in order to continue paying for these visits. It was expensive though, you hated to admit it but $300 every week was fine when you had savings, but you saw the bottom line when you went to pay the bills, this wasn't doable to keep it up, not on your salary. You bit your lip as you checked your bank online, went over how much it’d take out of you to pay to see him instead of settling for the calls again, but even as you did the math in your head you knew you couldn’t bear to sit across from him with that glass in the way again, not after last week.

You shut the lid of your laptop and almost stomped the few feet into bed, your body flopping onto the mattress as you tried to shove the frustration away. You knew by now everything you could about him, there was no point in counting down the days on your calendar until he’d be set free, not with his record and what he’d done even after his nearly secret mission on Corto Maltese shaving off ten years. He’d still be well into his hundreds by the time the sentence was up, and by then you’d both be gone, no, you needed to do something about this rampant unfairness now that you had found him. 

You huffed and let your hands rest on your stomach, picturing him walking away from you again the day before, how he had looked so unhappy that he hadn’t even gotten a chance to hug you after your admission of feelings when he was unchained from the table. He’d been rushed out fast, no time for them to risk anything the moment you also stood, Righty taking Abner while Lefty practically had to hold you back from a goodbye kiss. You felt frustrated by it all over again, your surge of adrenaline as he’d been shoved past you making your chest heave; you needed him again, you couldn’t remember what his mouth tasted like already after those brief moments, heat traveling down you as your fingers teased the waistband of your pajama shorts.

He’d been so close and warm, if you closed your eyes you could still see him, feel him panting under your hands as his own wandered over you so he could commit you to memory as well, hear the way his breath hitched when you’d grabbed him. ‘Shit,’ you muttered as you reached into your pants, palming yourself over your underwear as you felt the desire take hold again; you hadn’t lasted long after you’d gotten home, barely making it to the bed before you were panting into your pillow and fisting your sheets, your hand moving so good between your legs, the same hand that had made him come not even a half hour before.

You needed him, you couldn’t keep paying but you needed to be near him again, and as you slid your hand into your underwear and let out a sigh you knew that you were ready to do anything to be able to make that happen.

You still saw him next Saturday as planned, but before you sat you made sure to walk to his side of the table. You had the same guards with you, they were probably the poor saps stuck with this job, but they still took it seriously as they stood and got out their batons, ready to beat you back if you dared break the rules again. ‘I just want a hug,’ you said carefully, and when they didn’t sit you tossed more money onto the table. ‘You were right, I can’t keep spending this much, so if I have to cut back to only one of these a month I at least want a hug from my boyfriend.’

‘Boyfriend?’ Abner quickly looked up, his cheeks so pink as he stared in disbelief, and you almost emptied your wallet onto the table next as the urge to kiss him nearly overtook you.

‘Yeah, that is, if you wanna be?’ you asked, having obviously assumed you were some kind of dating after you shoved your hand down his pants. ‘Do… do you wanna go out with me, Abner?’

He looked ready to nod but the joy died down as he looked around, his hands still latched to the table when he couldn’t pull you into that hug as a reply. ‘Are you sure? We can’t really go out here,’ he murmured like he expected you to not have thought of that, like you’d take it back just like everything else you never did, and you gave both guards a look before crouching down and wrapping your arms around him.

‘Maybe for the right price we can walk around the yard someday if you wanna literally go out,’ you suggested, but the resulting snicker around the table told you you’d have less luck with that one. ‘But even if I’m stuck talking to you through a phone until I can see you in here again, I still wanna date you.’

He looked like he wanted to answer you, his mouth opening and closing before he leaned forward and caught you off guard, his lips crashing into yours and instantly making you end the hug to grab him by the head to hold him in place since he couldn’t do the same. The guards were on you so unfairly fast, your heart pounding as he tried to chase after your mouth until Righty and the cuffs forced him back. His lips were deviously pink from the kiss to match his cheeks, and you couldn’t hide the small laugh when you saw that he was already starting to get hard from just that as Righty pushed him back into his chair.

‘You promised,’ Lefty chastised you as he hauled you to the door, your fight or flight kicking in when you caught on that you weren’t sitting down.

‘I didn’t lie! He kissed me first, I just wanted the hug, I swear,’ you corrected him, your hand gripping both him and the doorway as Abner called out to you, and it must’ve been so pathetic that even he, a guard at Belle Reve, couldn’t drag you out of there after just a kiss. ‘I won’t do it again, next week will be by phone so I really wanna talk to him like this today, please.’

He sighed and let you go, Righty sitting down again but not before taking off his mask to push aside his blonde hair, his eyes already tired as they looked between such strange star-crossed lovers. ‘Don’t make us regret this,’ he muttered as he snatched up the hug money and split it between him and Lefty, who also sat down with a groan. You nodded and sat down as well finally, keeping your hands to yourself while your leg touched his out of sight, it good enough for the both of you as you watched him lick his lips, the memory of what he tasted like hopefully enough to keep you going for the next three weeks.

‘I do,’ he mumbled the moment you went to speak, your smile growing as he fiddled with the chain keeping him away from you, ‘I do wanna date you, by the way.’

You saved up all that you could as the next month went on, even more extra hours picked up over the weekend as soon as your meeting was over. It did indeed suck to have to talk to him through the phone again, the partition not even allowing your shoes to touch, his voice so faint and scratchy through the receiver, and when it was over and you had to watch him leave through the glass you knew you had to do this no matter what the consequences to yourself were.

Every week you tossed more money into the envelope on your dresser, dishing out all the big tips and keeping the smaller bills for yourself so you could grab a cheap meal, you could get groceries when this was over, a full cart would add up fast and you didn’t want that. Everything else that was deposited electronically was stored away, split between your debit account and your savings, your credit card thankfully empty thanks to never having the need to buy anything once your apartment was full of the necessities. It all added up by the time you got to toss the $300 to Righty when he met you by the prison doors, he knew your schedule and you were never late, so he’d started meeting you there to save some time. 

You lifted your shirt to your ribs to show you had nothing hidden as always, same with your ankles, your walk through the metal detectors giving the same answer as well, and Lefty looked up and gave you the smallest wave of recognition as you walked in and saw him and Abner already waiting. You nodded back and handed them both $50 more, Abner not kissing you this time as you hugged him tight until one of them coughed and signaled that that was long enough.

‘Keep waiting for me,’ you whispered in his ear, your voice so low that neither would hear with their masks on, ‘something is going to happen soon, so be patient, okay?’

He didn’t question you out loud as you stood and walked to your seat, and this time you got to hold his hands as you talked about everything and anything until your time was up again and you had to rush back to work.

The envelope was sealed tight, the glue licked and then the back taped for extra security, the paper bulging from everything stuffed inside as you tucked it into your pocket and snuck out into the night. It would be happening soon, your perceived naivety at the club paying off as you walked past the other civilians just trying to get home or get drunk. You were a ghost tonight, heading right for danger as you reached the line of shops across from the bank, the time on your phone telling you that it was happening any minute now, you were right on time.

It sure did pay to be just out of sight when the local bad guys were openly discussing their plans at your place of work.

‘Three, two, one…’

The front of the bank exploded into sight and sound, with Superman no longer around and Batman stuck in Gotham they’d have loads of time to load up and head out, all the important people in the city robbed blind as you just stood there and remained in the shadows. They were loud, confident that they’d get away with this as their getaway van pulled into sight, and you checked your phone again as you mentally timed how long it would take to get from Belle Reve to there. Again your timing was perfect as a random team of villains showed up along with a bunch of officers in an armoured truck, the money considered a big enough deal to get Waller to drop out a fast team to protect it all thanks to the complaints of the locals you had to bet, and you stood up straight when you saw Abner join the others with the specific instructions to please not melt the money.

Guns fired and powers lit up the area as he stayed behind, aiming for those trying to escape, his job to bring the bags to the safety of the truck you noticed as the others did all the dirty work, what had to be a grenade going off and making you duck as you snuck along the shops to get closer to him. He was good at his job, not at hand to hand by any means but as soon as he threatened to turn on his gauntlets they folded, their guns forgotten now that they knew what was inside of him, the thought of him letting it all out if he died like a bomb obviously on their minds. You felt proud of him as you watched him bring two more bags back to the truck, and when he glanced your way you flashed your phone to get his attention.

He paused, unsure if you were friend or foe, and you stepped into the moonlight just enough to show yourself before beckoning him to come over, which he gladly did as everyone else remained preoccupied. ‘I-I got him!’ he shouted before running like he had spotted another runaway, no one paying him any mind as another grenade went off and nearly toppled over the van, and when he met you in the alley he pressed you into the wall and kissed you like he hadn’t just seen you the other night. You kissed him right back, unlatching his mask and letting his goggles hang around his collarless neck as you held him so close against you it was hard to tell where he ended and you began. ‘I waited,’ he panted against your mouth, and you kissed him again and resisted the urge to take off more than just his mask.

‘I know,’ was all you could say before you were tugging him further into the darkness and back towards your apartment, ‘we gotta go, they’re bound to notice you’re gone soon.’

‘Wait, what’re we-’

‘Freeze.’ You turned to see Righty standing in the alley opening, his gun drawn as he pointed it at the two of you, your arm in front of Abner as he instantly reached for his gauntlet to turn it on. ‘You know I can’t let you go any further, you can’t pay me to turn a blind eye this time.’

‘Wait, please, let me-’ you started, but when you reached for the envelope he fired just to your left, the bullet hitting the wall and making you jump at the warning. ‘It’s for you, it’s not a weapon,’ you tried again, and he waited until you pulled out the money and showed him both sides, nothing else in your hand as Abner tensed behind you. ‘There’s almost $5000 in here, just let me take him home for the night, you can catch him again in the morning,’ you offered, and he looked ready to consider it before the fight made him look back at the commotion still going on behind him. 

This deal was dangerous, this wasn't just you paying for a handjob and not enough kisses, this was him trusting you to keep your word for not nearly enough money, but it was all you had on hand, and he was right behind you, holding your jacket as he waited for your word to tell him to be the villain you all knew he could be. You didn’t want that though, if you could get out of there with this now familiar face still intact then you would, and you knew he was thinking the same as he looked at the money again. A third grenade went off, a car successfully flipping this time and lighting all three of you up in the fiery glow, and he frowned conflictingly before aiming the gun at the ground and motioning for you to throw the money over.

You did just so, tossing it over the gap for him to catch, and he put his gun away for just a second to cut open the top and peer inside. You weren’t lying, you never lied when it came to Abner and he knew it, and he shoved the money under his bulletproof vest before aiming at you again. ‘You’ll send him back for us to catch tomorrow morning?’ he repeated, and even though you’d offered it you couldn’t bring yourself to confirm it as Abner held you just a little tighter.

‘I…’ you attempted to say, and Righty swore to himself as he stared down his own problem. ‘Get outta town, don’t be here when they can’t find him,’ you finally managed to say, his eyes still on the both of you as another cop yelled for him, Lefty’s voice calling over the street to see if he was still alive, it was now or never. 

‘You’re fuckin’ crazy,’ he sighed angrily at you, and even though he had all the time in the world to stop you, he surprised you by aiming the gun at his own shoulder and firing. He bit back a yell as a spray of blood filled the air, and he waved for you to just go as he stumbled back into the light and said was instantly surrounded by the others. ‘Krill chased one of them down the other street and I followed, bastard shot me and bailed, no idea what happened to Krill,’ you heard him lie before he became too far away, your hand holding Abner’s as you weaved through the streets until you were heading for home.

‘There’s- there’s a bomb,’ he panted as you ran, your legs not slowing as you led the way, ‘in my neck, if it gets back to Waller that I’m gone-’

‘They’ll look for the money first, they think you need your cage, remember?’ You prayed it’d turn out like that, his outfit so bright in the darkness as you finally reached your place; you’d left your window open ahead of time just for this, the fire escape bringing you both up and in where it was safe, but you didn’t waste a second as you then sat him down and raced to the bathroom. You busted open one of your razors in order to get the blade, and you had just enough time to apologize before he understood and leaned forward. 

‘I heal fast, a side effect of the virus,’ he encouraged you when you hesitated, and you just grit your teeth and made the incision. He guided you as you worked, the bomb so small you had to grab your tweezers to carefully pull it out, and when it was out you placed it on the edge of your fire escape and watched as he opened just a slot on his gauntlets and detonated it with one of his dots. To them it’d look like he’d been killed by the runaway criminal, they wouldn’t look for him right away now, he was safe, he was free.

You wrapped the blade in an old cloth and tossed it out as Abner turned to face you, a few dots still flying free outside as they looked for a target, blood staining the back of his costume, his face smudged with dirt and bruised from the fight, but still his smile was so big as he watched you. There was a moment of catching up between you as you just stared at each other, but when he then took off his gauntlets and placed them on your table you hurriedly wiped your hands off on your jeans before you were meeting in the middle and kissing like tomorrow would never come.

Your attempts to clean your hands were quickly undone as you grabbed him by the back of the neck and made him hiss, the area still tender even though the skin had indeed already healing back up, your fingers painted red as he pressed you into the side of your couch. You were quick to slide over the arm and fall back, his knees locking and making him fall forward with you, and he apologized for his weight as you just laughed and scooted back enough for him to crawl forward and straddle you. 

‘I’ve wanted this for so long,’ you told him as the cushions sank underneath you, your hands trailing red over coloured dots when you had no idea where to start to get this damn costume off of him. ‘I can’t believe you’re finally here…’

‘Me either,’ he sighed as he did the work for you, his pants straining even more than usual with how tight everything was in all the right places. He practically threw the jacket across the room, a long-sleeved shirt regrettably underneath it, but you could handle that as you pushed it up and over his head. ‘You’re-’

‘-Beautiful,’ you accidentally finished for him, and he was, he really was even as he looked down and realized how much of him was showing; just because he could heal fast didn’t mean that the virus could remove the scars, and there were so many from all his years at not only Belle Reve but S.T.A.R. Labs as well you’d come to learn, some of them even circular from what had to be his own powers. He turned away from you and tried to cover himself, clearly more ashamed than turned on, but you just gently pulled his hands away and placed them back over your waist and your cheek, his eyes opening hopefully as you rolled your hips under him. ‘Do you want this?’ you asked again, and he just nodded before leaning down to kiss you again. ‘Then who’s gunna stop us this time?’

He groaned into your ear at your eagerness, and you kissed his bare neck before making him get up; you stood on shaky legs and led him to your bedroom next, a quick stop to the ensuite bathroom to clean up and strip more delaying your final destination only a little, but you hadn’t exactly expected to do sudden surgery before you could get him in there. It felt all the more intimate after that, and this time when you crawled onto the bed he was the one underneath you as he let you take charge again. You wanted him to tell you what he wanted, two months of needing him making you ready to just tell him that he didn’t need to hold back anymore, but once you felt him under you, felt the way he already started to move his hips and stare up at you you knew that this was what he wanted.

He was free, he was in a comfy bed with you on top of him in a state of undress, no one was going to barge in before he could make you feel good this time, he was exactly where he wanted to be and the only thing holding him back was the fact that you didn’t know where to start.

You didn’t let him wait any longer, guiding his hands to work on your belt as you stripped off your shirt and tossed it aside, he was down to just his boxers now, and you licked your lips and grinded against him in order to encourage him to start moving. His voice was still soft as he did just that, using you as pressure between you sliding your pants as well as underwear off, his mouth falling open as you bared yourself to him. He looked like he could hardly believe it, that you wanted him so much you’d go this far, and you just laughed and kissed him as you took his hand and got him to touch you.

‘Fuck, that’s good,’ you told him as he gasped into your neck, he didn’t know what to do but he knew what he wanted as he conveyed it all through his actions, and when his motions evened out and he became more confident you ended up putty in his hand as your chest pressed into his. ‘Abner… I still want more, don’t end it so soon,’ you warned him as your climax started to build, but he just doubled down as he started kissing your neck, being so close to you just as addicting to him as it was for you.

‘Paying you back… from before…’ he mumbled into your skin, his hand moving faster as he gripped you by the ass and pulled you more into his reach.

‘But- I’m gunna-’

‘Then do it.’ He bit down hard and made you gasp, your eyes rolling back as you came onto his hand just as he’d done to you, every muscle tensing as he didn’t stop until you were oversensitive and keening desperately. Finally he stopped, his hand moving to his very hard cock as he pulled himself out, the mess on his hand only lubing him up as he bucked up between your thighs. ‘I want you, back when you touched me in that room, I knew I wanted you to be my first,’ he said before he could stop himself, his body stilling a little as you caught your breath. ‘That’s… pathetic, isn’t it? Knowing that I’m… The others always said so.’

‘Abner, I don’t care who you have and haven’t fucked, as long as I get to be with you tonight,’ you admitted to him, but when he still didn’t regain that bit of confidence you pressed a kiss to his chest and sat up again. ‘Look, you’ve been the only one on my mind since you saved the city two months ago, I spent literally thousands of dollars just to be able to talk to you in person, I risked my life tonight just on the chance I’d be able to get you here, do you honestly think I care whether you’re a virgin or not?’ 

His eyes met yours, he was a little more convinced, and you reached between your legs to take him in hand again, his head falling back into your pillows with such a delectable noise that it made your desire come back even faster. 

‘But if I were to be completely honest, knowing that I get to be the first one to feel you inside…’ You rubbed his length against yourself, letting exactly how it felt show on your face as he looked up at you like you were the hottest thing he’d ever seen. ‘I… I can’t think of anything I want more.’

He pulled you back down to kiss you again, his tongue finding yours fast as he took initiative and jutted up against you, helped you want it enough that you couldn’t hold back, and when he finally pressed inside you the both of you just froze and breathed each others air as you slid down his length. You felt so full around him, his head thrown back again as your body became all he knew, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to last long again as you started to move. He tried to get you to stop, it was too much and he was worried about ruining this but you wouldn’t let him, controlling your pace as you peppered his neck with kisses and hickeys; there were places where the collar had dug in and scarred him, and you touched each one before kissing them, marking him as your own as your hips moved torturously up and down, his breathing so broken and without control as he panted.

He whispered the same pleas as before, begs for more getting you to move a little faster as you kissed the other side of his neck, his nails leaving behind faint scratches all over your back and thighs when he couldn’t stop himself from bucking. He was restraining himself so hard that it had to be making him cramp up, and you encouraged him again as you finished marking him and sat up. ‘Don’t make me do all the work,’ you teased as you rode him, Abner just blinking before grabbing you by the hips and thrusting hard. 

Your back arched and you braced yourself on his chest, his eyes shining when he saw that he was making you feel good too, like he’d forgotten that crucial part of having sex. He wanted to see it more, his own pleasure delayed as he bucked up again and again, he felt so good but knowing that he was able to do this to you was taking him over, and you eagerly let him make the switch from you riding him to him fucking you.

You praised him for it, he was making you feel so good, better than anyone else, you were his now, you’d been his ever since you’d shaken his hand that day; every word only made him move faster, harder, his inexperience definitely not felt as you felt your second orgasm build quicker than expected. He really was making you fall apart, your desire for him just as strong as his for you it just so happened to turn out, and when you started to get close you felt a little sentimental as you kissed him a little softer. He opened his eyes, staring up at you as you were fucked, his body not slowing even as you whispered that you loved him.

That was all it took, Abner holding you tight as he came inside, the stuttering of his hips urging you to ride it out until you were coming too, the room filled with his noises now that he didn’t have to stay quiet. You didn’t give a fuck about your neighbours, they could bang on the walls or ceiling or floor all they wanted as you kissed the noises out of him, loving the sound of his voice just for you. He panted your name over and over as he finally fell still, like he couldn’t remember any other word other than that, and you just smiled and laid on him until you noticed the shine on his cheek; he was crying, and you got up as concern took over your afterglow.

‘Are you okay?’ you asked as you gave him room to breathe, and he just looked up at you and pulled you back down for another kiss instead of answering.

‘I love you so much,’ he replied as another tear fell, ‘I didn’t think I knew how, not after everything she did to me, not anymore.’

You got off of him then, ignoring the emptiness you felt when you separated as you curled up next to him. ‘Do you want to talk about it? We have all the time in the world now,’ you offered, but he just shook his head, your eyes widening as he then faced you and got you to lie on your back so he could rest his head on your chest. 

‘No, I just want to stay with you until I need to release the dots, they’ll be appearing by the morning, I didn’t get to use any in the mission,’ he murmured against you, your hand brushing his hair out of his eyes before you held him close, nothing able to take him away from you now.

‘That’s fine, we might have to leave if Ri- that guard ends up telling them I got you, they’ll be suspicious by Saturday if I don’t show up at the very least,’ you thought aloud, Abner only curling around you tighter at the thought of having to leave you again.

‘Where will we go? I don’t want you to lose your home,’ he said miserably, but you just kissed the top of his head and held his hand.

‘This is just an apartment, I’ll find another one in some other city, I hear Metropolis is pretty easy to sneak around without Superman, or there’s Gotham?’ He didn’t seem to like either, the thought of some other hero finding him and bringing him back making him nervous. ‘Of course, I also hear Canada is pretty cool this time of year.’

He looked up at you, like he still couldn’t believe you’d go so far just for him, and you trailed kisses over his forehead and nose until he couldn’t take the barrage and had to stop you with his mouth. ‘You really want this with me?’ he confirmed when he was safe again, your fingers linking with his your answer. ‘But the dots, and Waller, and-’

‘Abner, you told me that you skipped out on your freedom a year ago because you needed the safety of the collar,’ you reminded him seriously, ‘I’m not letting you do it again, not now that you’re with me; you followed me tonight, you didn’t have to but you did, you can’t tell me you don’t want this too.’ The words wouldn’t come out again, and your fingers brushed over the already healed scar on the back of his neck. ‘We’ll handle everything as it comes, whether it’s your dots or Waller catching on or whatever, but until then, please let yourself want this with me, okay?’

He nodded then, all traces of fear leaving him just for the moment, which was all you needed as he rested on top of you.

‘I love you Abner, and I won’t let anyone take you away again,’ you promised him, but he was already falling asleep as the sirens sounded outside, the cars driving by as they searched for him, a bright dot already forming just above his wrist.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Mmmm, happy Detrans December everyone! I am so excited I won the latest tag war, sorry Kara, better luck next year.... Or maybe you can join in with me and we can have ourselves another healthy competition? Just dm me if that sounds like fun, or do you just wanna jerk it to me going through male puberty and losing my gorgeous boobies? Either way....

Ever since I first found this tag I was so turned on by the idea. I started transitioning in like the sixth grade and I'm 20 now, so I've had no shortage of people try and detrans me already. Every single time it makes me rock hard. Always a new doctor, or boss, or some coworker that finds out. They start exclusively calling me by male pronouns and tell me how great I'd look if I detransitioned, that I'm already mostly a guy anyway, that I don't pass very well, and they always say me 'moobs' look ridiculous and I have to feel really embarrassed going out looking like this.....

I know it's just people being bigoted creeps, but every time it happens it turns me on so much. I have to run home and jerk off. You wanna know a secret? One of these pervy transphobes was a doctor I had a couple years back who put me on penile growth meds, despite me being on estrogen and progestrone. He said growing a 'fat cock' will make me realize I'm supposed to be male. I..... can't say he was wrong. He kept me on it for six months, and I had to find a new doctor when he outright prescribed me T, but I did fill my first script and have it waiting and ready to go. ❤️ I never post bikini pics or anything tight because my cock is already about a foot long and really thick. My balls are the size of plums! They make it kind of hard to sit sometimes. I bet if I went off my estrogen for just a day my body would be totally flooded with T from these things. Unsurprisingly I jerk off a lot, like a regular guy, I love having such a big fat cock. How could I ever pretend I'm a girl? I'm so silly......

So, as soon as I discovered Detrans December I looked up all the vids and whatnot and got totally addicted to all the pretty girls shooting up T and losing their girly bodies.... So the second I started getting tagged, you legit could not pull me away from my computer, I was scrolling through your tags and comments for hours a day, jerking off like a good boy.... Mmmm, I'm going to love finally taking T, although I love getting fucked too much to say I'll wind up as one of these straight gym dudes you see trans girls turn into.... Hey, Kara, you only live a couple hours away. What if we both became femboys.... dressed all girly, you have a big cock you were forced to grow, to.... I want our cocks so big they're impractical for fucking, they'll be way too fat.... They'll be perfect for our fans and random guys we meet at the club to abuse and smack around, same with our oversized testicles.... Won't that be so much fun? A couple of flat chested boys finally going through male puberty, hung like horses, just begging for our guy parts to be mistreated. I think we'd have loads of fun together, don't you? Oooo, we can even get top surgery together! I can't wait to lose these silly, fat boobs, and I know you can't wait to lose those ridiculous looking JJ-Cup boobs of yours..... I bet you're jerking off watching me say all this, aren't you? Good boy, now cum. ❤️"

[aziraphales-library]

I *love* any fics where Crowley is hurt incredibly bad and Aziraphale must save him or bring him back to health. I also LOVE fics that delve into trauma or mental health which stripes the characters of their mask and they must rely on someone/each other. Do you have any recommendations for fics that are either, or both? Happy endings are a major must for me, but I am open to any suggestions!

You'll want to check our #crowley whump, #hurt crowley, and #protective aziraphale tags for loads of fics like this. Here are some that may or may not have been recommended before, but mind the tags on all of these!...

Where's My Mind? by ebullience24 (T)

See, the thing is: Crowley is tall. His height had caused a few stares back in the days where the tallest man stood at five foot five. And, because of his height, one might be inclined to describe him as slender with spindly fingers and snake-hips. The pun is never intended on that last one but it stands true nonetheless. And Crowley would be likely to agree with these statements: he is tall and slender and spindly and snake-hipped. But what Crowley would be less likely to agree upon is the statement that he, Anthony J Crowley, is underweight. OR: Crowley has an eating disorder. Trigger Warnings now and at the beginning of each chapter.

Safe Haven by McRaider (T)

When Anthony Crowley stepped back into Aziraphale's life for the first time after eight long years missing, it became exceedingly clear with him came a world of trouble and heartache. But Aziraphale never could say no to his beloved Crowley. Can he help Crowley heal after a failed marriage, a gas-lighting ex-wife with an evil plan?

To Speak the Unspoken by ihamtmus (T)

“Uhhhh… Hi,” Crowley started lamely, scrambling to find a way to explain the situation as quickly as possible. His mind was refusing to work properly, thoughts slow as if doused in oil. He hadn’t really thought about what to say on his way here – he’d been too busy focusing on the getting here part before he would collapse. “I was wondering if I could… If I could maybe die in here, if you don’t mind..?” The expression on Aziraphale’s face changed abruptly, telling him that the angel did, in fact, mind. (In which a mortally wounded demon just wants to get somewhere quiet to die but his Adversary will have none of it. A story of how they both learn just how much they care.)

Death in Love by Aspirina_Effervescente & Cyanidechan (M)

After tempting a composer to fame and success, Crowley is cursed by his wife and tormented by her ghost until the end of his days. Aziraphale would do anything to save him, the only problem is that he doesn't know what's going on and, anyway, the problem could be much more complicated than it seems. Inspired by Giuseppe Tartini’s Sonata “the Devil’s trill”

Drops of Sorrow by EdosianOrchids901 (M)

Ten years after the failed Apocalypse, Crowley is captured by Heaven. Gabriel plans to use him as bait to lure Aziraphale into a fight. Can Crowley survive captivity, and will Aziraphale be able to rescue him without walking into the trap?

A Touch of Heaven by IneffableToreshi (E)

A despondent and defeated Crowley has been through the ringer, moreso even than his roommate, Newt, realizes. After a car accident puts him though a number of surgeries and a temporary - but terrifying - few weeks of blindness, the club owner wants nothing more than to curl up in his bed and refuse to move until things return to normal...or as normal as they'll ever be again. Newt - and his cafe-owning girlfriend, Anathema - have other plans. They think that Crowley just needs some care and pampering, so Anathema schedules him a special, off-hours appointment with a friend of hers who is a rather sought-after masseur. Crowley is hesitant and stubborn, but Aziraphale's soothing voice and comforting nature soon win him over, in more ways than one...

- Mod D

[sydsaint]

It's been a while since I've wrote for Jay <3

Summary: The reader is Adam Cole's sister and manager. With Adam out on injury, she is stuck with Max whom she doesn't like. Luckily for her, Jay White has his eyes on her and Max's title belt.

"Yeah, alright. I'll let him know, Adam. Yep. Miss you too." You finish up your conversation with your brother on the phone. You hang up and turn toward Max, who's been eagerly waiting for you to get off the phone. "Adam says hello."

"Hello? Is that all?" Max frowns, his eager smile quickly fading. "Did he say anything about his foot? Or when he's coming back?" He asks you.

You pocket your phone and shake your head. "He just had surgery not even a month ago, Max." You remind him. "It's going to be a while before he's back."

"Yeah...I know." Max sighs and slumps in his chair. "I just miss him." He frowns again.

"He's my brother, Max." You remind Max with a scoff. "I miss him too." You insist. "I'm going to go grab a bite from catering. I'll be back in a bit."

Max nods and watches you exit the locker room silently. Being Adam's sister and manager, you've been hanging at Adam's side since he joined AEW. So when Cole joined up with MJF you begrudgingly took the world champ under your wing as another client. You don't trust Friedman as far as you can throw him. But you put up with it for Adam.

Your journey to catering is silent and peaceful. Just the way you like it. You grab a water and a small premade sandwich then start returning to the locker room. However, you only make it outside the catering room before the Gunn kids stop you.

"Well if it isn't Y/N Cole." Austin grins at you, blocking your exit.

"Y/N, babe. What are you doing out here all alone?" Colten asks you with a grin to match his brothers.

Setting your free hand on your hip you stare at the brothers pointedly. "What do you want? Ass boys?" You ask them with an annoyed expression.

"Hey!" Austin snaps at you. "Don't call us that!" He whines.

"Lads, let's all calm down a bit, yeah?" Jay White appears between the brothers with a crooked grin. "Besides, you two should know not to talk to such a beautiful woman like that." He adds.

You narrow your eyes at Jay, Bullet Club Gold's sly, silver-tongued leader. He flashes you an inviting grin and inserts himself between Austin and Colten.

"Y/N, sweetheart. How have you been?" Jay asks you. "It's been a few months since I arrived here in AEW and we've yet to catch up." He reminds you.

"What a shame." You snark. “We barely knew each other anyway, Jay.” You remind him. “In fact, if I remember right. I was working main events with Adam while poor little Jay was still confined to the LA Dojo.” You tease him.

Jay chuckles and the sound raises goosebumps on your skin. “And look at me now, sweetheart. Quite the improvement, wouldn’t you agree?” He asks you.

“Is there a point to this conversation, Jay?” You roll your eyes. “Because Max is waiting for me, and my sandwich is getting stale.” You add.

“Ah yes, Maxwell,” Jay replies with a sly smile. “How is working for the devil, Y/N? He teases you. “Fulfilling work, I’m sure.”

You huff a breath out of your nose and take a step forward. “It’s fine. Now get lost. And take the Ass Boys with you.” You turn your nose up at the trio and shoulder past them.

“Oh come on Y/N! We both know that ain’t true, sweetheart!” Jay calls after you. “And I can offer you a way out, darling! All you have to do is ask!”

You roll your eyes again and mumble a few words to yourself. When you get back to the locker room Max is on his phone so you don’t pay him much attention while you eat. While you’re eating you can’t help but think about Jay. That charming smile infects your brain like a virus. ‘Damn him for being so charismatic.’ You curse yourself silently. ‘Him and that stupid accent.’

“You say something, Y/N?” Max looks up from his phone at you.

“Hmm? Oh, no. I’m fine.” You shake your head.

Later into the night, you head out to the ring with Max for his match against Juice Robinson. Max slips into the ring and you hang out in his corner while Juice makes his entrance with the rest of Bullet Club Gold. Your gaze lands on Jay as he saunters down the ramp next to Austin and Colten. Jay’s gaze wanders over to your corner and the two of you lock eyes for a second before you make a point to look away and turn your attention back to Max.

“Make this match quick, yeah?” You call out to Max. “It’s dangerous to be out here alone when so many people are gunning for your ass.” You warn him.

“Please, no one is dumb enough to come out and attack me.” Max scoffs and you roll your eyes at his arrogance.

It’s odd really, usually the cocky, flirty, egomaniacs you don’t mind hanging around. You’ve certainly had enough practice being around them with Adam being your brother and all. But there is just something about Max that makes your blood boil. The guy just gets on your nerves.

The bell rings and Max’s match with Juice starts. You hang out in the corner and wait for him to hopefully make quick work of Juice. Meanwhile, Jay keeps sending winks your way from across the ring. Near the end of the match, Max manages to pull a win while you’re busy distracting the Gunn’s. The bell rings again to signal the end of the match and you hop onto the apron to collect Max.

“Alright come on, let’s get out of here.” You beckon for Max to follow you.

“Will you relax, Y/N?” Max scoffs. “Come on! Let’s celebrate a little.” He insists.

You grit your teeth in frustration but remain on the apron. ‘Why can’t he just listen to me for once?’ You think to yourself.

The lights suddenly go out and your point is proven. You gasp when you feel the presence of someone next to you in the dark. A hand grabs your arm and you audibly gasp and go to try and escape.

“Relax, darling, it’s just me.” A familiar accent in your ear calms your nerves and you suddenly find yourself being hauled off your feet and taken down from the apron.

The lights come back on a few seconds later and you blink a few times in the brightness. Once your vision has adjusted to the light change, you find Jay holding you against his chest over by the commentary table.

Back in the ring, Max is being confronted by a mystery man in his old devil mask along with a couple of other masked men.

“Fuck.” You curse.

“If only he’d have just listened to you, huh?” Jay teases you in a whisper from behind you.

You sneer but don’t make an effort to move. “Was this you?” You ask him in a stern tone.

“Not one bit.” Jay shakes his head. “I just figured I’d be a gentleman and save you from that idiot’s mess.” He adds. “Anywho, you want to get out of here?”

“Really?” You scoff.

Jay chuckles again and with his proximity, you can feel it vibrate through his chest and against your back. “Come on Y/N, sweetheart. You know that you’ve been wanting to ditch old Max since your brother stuck you with him.” He teases you. “Leave with me! We can have some fun!”

You stare at the inside of the ring where a standoff is happening. And you can’t help but notice that Max doesn’t seem to even notice that you’re gone from the apron.

“Yeah, fuck it.” You make a decision, knowing that Adam will be bad but will eventually get over it.

“Atta girl.” Jay purrs his lips brushing your neck. “Come on.” He grabs your hand and starts pulling you toward the ramp.

You watch Max get the crap beat out of him by the mystery group while you retreat with Jay and the rest of his group. Jay stops at the top of the ramp and you notice that Juice has somehow come into possession of Max’s world title belt. Juice hands Jay the belt and you find Jay pressed up against your back again. He holds the title belt in one hand while the other hand is draped over your shoulder.

“Y/N?” You hear Max finally start to wonder where you are. “What are you doing?” He asks when he sees you at the top of the ramp with Jay.

“Sorry, Max.” Jay laughs. “But it looks like I got the belt and the girl.” He holds the belt up and spins you around to face him at the same time.

You laugh and shrug at Max. “Sorry, Max. Send my regards to my brother. If he ever returns any of your calls.” You torment Friedman before Jay kisses you harshly. 

[a-little-revolution]

Hi - I'm a relatively new follower, but I love the variety in what you put out.

I work in healthcare and regularly give talks on very basic disability concepts (why eugenics is wrong, how to get AAC access in hospitals, shut the hell up about parents' rights, don't use slurs in educational talks, etc.).

Is there anything you'd recommend specifically for doctors, nurses, and other care providers in terms of a) not creating problems, and b) actually providing quality healthcare for little people? Assume the target audience knows nothing.

Hello! Welcome!! Thank you so much, I try ^^

I gave a talk a while ago on trans inclusive healthcare, and included a lot of disability related things since there's plenty of intersection. As I'm sure you know, the medical system still has a long way to go when it comes to treating disabled folk (and frankly anyone who isn't a thin, white, cishet male).

With dwarfism specifically, the learning curve is astronomical - here's my thoughts: (And note, I am someone who's had roughly fourteen surgeries, countless scans, and endless doctors visits - so I think I can call myself an expert lol)

The first thing is just establishing basic knowledge on dwarfism - how it presents in a person, how it affects mobility and range of motion, what the terminology is etc. Knowing the related conditions is vital as well - my Achondroplasia for instance comes with sleep apnea, respiratory conditions, arthritis, club foot, loose knees, etc. I'm often the expert on my own condition, but I shouldn't have to be relied on as a teacher in traumatic situations.

Make waiting rooms, doctor's offices, surgical rooms, etc. accessible to those bellow 5 feet! Most of the time I cannot get up on an exam table as they are too high and I am not provided a stool without making a special request. The same goes for xray tables, gurneys, etc. I cannot express the frustration of coming into every medical room and not being able to sit or lay down without assistance.

Respect and autonomy are big things that get missed - assumptions that my life isn't worth living, that my pain isn't real, that I don't participate in daily activities, that I don't have sex or want children etc. are just some of the misconceptions I come across with medical professionals and their assistants. Last year during and x-ray was the first time a medical professional ASKED before touching me.

For now this is what I can think of, I thank you for your patience as I do have CPTSD from my medical trauma. I've talked more on being a patient with dwarfism here! Hope this helps!

-Elliot (they/them)

[ankleandfootcentersofamerica]

What Is Club Foot (Talipes Equinovarus)?

Clubbed Feet, otherwise known as talipes equinovarus, is a congenital deformity of the foot that causes it to turn inward and downward. This condition can affect one or both feet, resulting in clubbed feet, in which the heel of the foot faces inward and the toes point outward. Treatment for clubfoot generally requires a combination of physical therapy and casts to stretch the muscles and tendons in order to correct the positioning of the foot. Surgery may also be necessary and is usually done after non-surgical treatment if clubfoot still needs to be corrected further. In most cases, clubfoot can be corrected with a high success rate if treated correctly early on.

[alexbkrieger13]

Magda interview

https://www.svt.se/sport/fotboll/da-kan-magdalena-eriksson-vara-tillbaka-kommer-hinna-spela-innan-sasongen-ar-slut?s=09

Then Magdalena Eriksson can be back: "Will have time to play before the end of the season"

PUBLISHED TODAY 20:21

Magdalena Eriksson sustained a foot injury in December.

Now the Swedish national team defender is approaching a return.

- I can't set a time frame, but it's not far away. I will make it before the end of the season, she tells SVT Sport.

It has been a difficult few months for the Swedish national team defender Magdalena Eriksson. Sweden missed the Olympics, Eriksson suffered a foot injury and was forced to undergo surgery, then Bayern Munich were knocked out of the Champions League.

The 30-year-old connects on a video link and talks about the months that have been - and that she is now close to a comeback.

- I have trained incredibly hard to come back. There are a lot of ups and downs, but I will reach the end goal. I have a bit to go before I'm completely back, she tells SVT Sport.

Age becomes more apparent as she has learned over the years that the healing process should take the time it takes, even if one would have preferred to be back on the field as soon as possible.

- I can't set goals or a time period because it creates stress. So I'm trying to think day by day, but I'm enjoying being back and can't wait to train harder and feel the body parts ache.

Can you make it to the end of the season?

- Yes absolutely. It's not far away. Now I'm back in team training - but I haven't set any goals. Time will tell. But I will have time to play before the season ends.

"It was the hardest"

During the summer she was ready for the German giant and in December the accident happened.

- It was the toughest blow for me personally. I felt that I was in really good shape and was in a flow where things just happen. I got into the team well and quickly and managed to play many nice matches. It came like a bolt from the blue and it was difficult at first - but deep down I felt that maybe it wasn't really like that, she says.

Eriksson continues:

- I was tired after the WC and the Nations League, then it was a new club and it was a lot. So I understood why it happened but it was incredibly bad timing.

[canirove]

Broken Hearts Football Club | Chapter 17

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"I hate you, Maxwell" Leah said, trying to catch her breath.

"It was your idea to get ready for the preseason together, not mine" June shrugged.

"And now I am regretting it so much. I liked you better when you were moping around and thinking you were bringing another Mount to the world."

"Please don't remind me of that."

"Then slow down a bit!"

"I can't. I want to make it to the new season in my best shape ever" June said, starting to run again.

"Working out won't make you forget about your problems!"

"But it helps!" June replied. Because her personal life was a mess. 

She had not heard from Ben since he had confessed his feelings for her, which meant that she didn't know if Mason had told him about what had happened between them. And she couldn't ask him if he had done it because he had blocked her on every social media platform and also her phone number.

So maybe now both of them hated her, and Ben didn't feel the same for her anymore, which sucked because she was starting to believe that she actually was falling in love with him. And as if all that wasn't enough already, for almost a week she had thought she was pregnant. 

But she wasn't going to let that affect her career. There was a World Cup at the end of the summer, and she was going to be there as one of England's captains. No one and nothing was going to take that away from her. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Ok, girls. Let's do this!" June said to her teammates before jumping into the pitch to warm up. It was their first game of the pre-season, the moment she had been looking forward for the past month. 

As she stepped out, she couldn't help to look to her left, to where the tv set was supposed to be. But there was nothing there, and he wasn't going to be there either throughout the season. 

Ben had changed teams and would now comment on the men's games. Officially he had said that it was because he needed a new challenge, joked that some of his mates had gone lazy and they deserved the wrath of his comments. But June knew what was the real reason behind it. Her.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

Minute 70. Chelsea was comfortably winning 2-0, June scoring the first goal. But she wanted more.

One of her teammates had sent her a long pass, one of those where she runs and controls the ball as if she had a magnet on her foot. One of her favourites. But as she was running, her head looking up, something went wrong.

A loud crack was heard, followed by June's even louder scream as she fell to the floor. Her vision went blurry, the pain on her knee as nothing she had ever experienced before. She was crying, screaming, it was unbearable. She could hear her teammates around her calling her name, the doctor talking to her. But she couldn't focus on anything. All she felt was pain. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Mum, can you please stop? It's just a photo for Instagram, not for Vogue" June said.

"I know" she replied, putting a lock of hair behind her ear. "But it is going to be everywhere since it will be your first photo after surgery, and I know that if you don't look good you'll get mad at us when you see it again in a few days because how did we allow you to take a photo looking like that."

"That's true" John chuckled.

"Whatever" June said, rolling her eyes.

"A nurse just gave me these for you" her dad said, walking into the room.

"Oh, wow" June gasped.

"Those are beautiful!" her mum said, looking at the huge bouquet of flowers. "Who has sent them?" 

"No one" she said, trying to hide the note.

"Someone must have sent them, June."

"A boy. Look at the colour of her cheeks" her dad laughed.

"A boy? What boy? June, do you have a boyfriend?"

"What? No!"

"Are you seeing someone?"

"No, I'm not."

"Then who sent those flowers?"

"A friend, ok? Now can we please take that photo?" 

"What friend?"

"Mum!" June protested.

"Ok, ok… John, do you know who he is?"

"I have my suspicions" he smirked. "But I'm not telling you anything, so don't ask again."

"Boring" their mum replied.

"Are we taking the photo or not?" June asked again.

"We are, we are. Give me the flowers, I'll put them with the others."

"No! I want them in the photo."

"Why?" her mum asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I just want them, ok? Now take that damn photo."

"You take it, John. I'm gonna find a glass or something to put the flowers in" their mum said, leaving the room.

"Ready, sis?" John chuckled.

"Ready" June replied, smiling at the camera and hugging the flowers. She knew who had sent them, she had recognized the handwriting the moment she had seen the note. And if he got to see the photo, she wanted him to notice them, to know how much receiving them had meant to her.

"Hope surgery has gone well. Now the tough work starts, but if there is someone who can get in shape just in time for the World Cup, that's you. You can do it, June. I believe in you. Your favourite peach and pundit, Ben." 

[ladywaffles]

humpback whales

mavdad + whales: a discord prompt written for @nicejobkid

So here’s the thing.

Bradley Bradshaw was all of eighteen years old with a head full of exactly jackshit nothing when he left Maverick and Iceman’s house on the end of the street. He didn’t know a goddamn thing about being an adult, even if he claimed otherwise. He left behind an entire life: baby pictures and journals and reels of home videos.

He really did think leaving was the only choice he had. In hindsight, it’s the dumbest thing he’s ever done.

On the one hand, he knew it would be fine. The Navy always provides. He got three square meals a day at Basic and an annual physical that he always aced, thanks to a lifetime of playing baseball and racing Maverick around the diamond. His old man had no right sprinting that fast.

But then there’s the other hand: the calendar of shots and immunizations a teenage boy going off to college required, the yearly appointments with an optometrist, a dermatologist, and most crucially of all, a dentist.

Bradley, Iceman always said, was blessed in that he didn’t take after either Goose or Maverick, both of whom had terrible teeth. Their x-rays were surely some kind of dental case study in a textbook somewhere. But Bradley had taken after his mother and Iceman, in this regard: his teeth all came in like ducks in a row, pearly white like ivory piano keys.

Maybe it was just bad timing, maybe it was because his teeth were just that good, but when he enlisted, no one bothered to ask Ensign Bradshaw if he’d ever had his wisdom teeth out.

So fifteen years later, with a toothache so bad it’s finally driven him to the clinic—and isn’t that embarrassing, to survive Maverick Mitchell’s particular brand of insanity, an ejection out of an F-18, a dogfight in a jet that had no business being in the air, and a (controlled!) crash landing, only to be done in by a goddamn toothache—Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, aged thirty-four, with his newly re-acquired father in tow, has his wisdom teeth removed.

They don’t hook him up with an IV, thank goodness. Instead, they give Maverick a packet of pills to make Bradley take an hour before surgery that will supposedly knock him out for the duration.

As a member of the F-18 Ejection Club, Bradley’s been on the good shit for the past few months. He has sincere doubts about these pills.

“Bottoms up, kiddo,” Maverick tells him, pushing the pills towards him with a cup of coffee. It’s the same mug he gave Maverick for Father’s Day when he was ten years old.

“You’re the worst,” Bradley says, swallowing the pills in one go with a scalding hot gulp.

Later, Maverick will laugh at him over the dinner table as he recounts to Ice what exactly happened when Bradley had his wisdom teeth out. (He really shouldn’t have doubted those pills.)

The meds hit about fifteen minutes after he takes them. It falls to Maverick, all five-foot-and-change of him, to wrangle six-foot-oh of Bradley into the Bronco, strap him in, and haul him back out into the dentist’s office. He vaguely remembers being wheeled into one of the surgery rooms and led to sit on the chair, falling asleep, and then waking up to the dentist telling him they’d finished taking his teeth and they just needed to stitch him up.

He immediately bursts into tears—he hates stitches more than anything—and then conks straight out again.

He doesn’t really remember getting home, only that the next time he wakes up, he’s back in Maverick and Ice’s house, laid out on the couch. Maverick is whistling in the kitchen. He’d covered Bradley with an old blanket. A smart move on his part; Bradley drooled on it in his sleep.

Maverick comes back into the room with two bowls of very boring chicken broth.

“Good morning!” he teases. “I didn’t know you were such a lightweight, ducky!”

“Yuh’re de wurst,” Bradley gums through the cotton gauze in his mouth.

Mav hands him a bowl and a spoon. The broth is barely hot. Gross. He looks up at Maverick with the same baleful expression he used to get dessert before dinner as a kid, but Maverick just laughs at him.

“No dice here, Brads. You’re not getting anything hotter, unless you wanna get your stitches replaced.”

Bradley rolls his eyes and slurps his lukewarm soup.

Maverick flips on the TV. He turns on a nature documentary on humpback whales, then kicks his feet up onto the coffee table, the exact way that Bradley knows Ice doesn’t let him.

He can see straight through Maverick. It’s the same routine he used to do when Bradley would stay home from school sick. Animal Planet never failed to knock him out. It was more effective than anything else at getting him to sleep.

But this time, Bradley finds himself staying awake as he watches this otherwise ordinary whale documentary with Maverick sitting next to him on the couch. He’s an adult now, but Maverick is treating him as if no time has passed. There’s no resentment, no blame, for all the pain he’d caused his father.

He missed moments like this, in the years they spent apart. He’d almost forgotten how nice it was to have someone to care for you.

In the end, Bradley stays awake for the whole movie. It’s Maverick who falls asleep, his head lolling to the side to rest on Bradley’s shoulder. It’s not such a bad place to be, Bradley thinks to himself, trapped on a cozy couch with his dad.

He hits play on the documentary again and settles in closer to Maverick. The whales are pretty cool, after all.

[uswnt5]

Okay, so I have been sitting on this for a while now, thinking on whether or not I should share this. I've been working in woso for a few years now, specifically women's academy football and I want to add something to this horrifying cycle of abuse we keep seeing in sports. I see a lot of people wondering "how the fuck does this keep happening" and "where the fuck do they keep finding such horrid people" and I want to provide an inside perspective.

When I started working in woso, I was given the chance to work for the first team or for their academy team. I was young and thought I could change the world so I chose the academy team. At that point we still only had one academy team, a U18 team that played in the second division of women's football. I was an idealist and wanted to do more than just work in football, I wanted to innovate and improve football, and I thought a young academy team would give me more opportunities to do so.

I worked with young girls from ages 15 to 18. And I thought I was amazing at it. I would have done anything for that first generation of kids that came up through me. One of them made her debut for the national team recently, and I was crying in the stadium the whole 16 minutes of playtime she got. I love those girls with all my heart, I really do.

But, I also learned very quickly how easy it is to lose yourself, and the person you think you are.

We discuss their bodies daily. We monitor their sleep, their mood, their periods, their fatigue, their weight, every little bit of exercise they do… I know their bodies better than I know my own sometimes. And with that familiarity comes a blurring of boundaries that I never expected myself to be capable of.

At the beginning of last season, one of our girls tore her ACL. It sucks, but it happens (her recovery went absolutely perfect and she's going to back in games sooner than anyone could have hoped). This girl is a 'high potential', tall, strong, really good with her left foot, and only 16 years old at that point. When I say tall and strong, her dad is build like freaking Hagrid and she definitely takes after him.

When the results of the scan came back, confirming the ACL tear, we had a meeting with the whole staff on how we were going to support her through this. Everyone signed the 'get well soon' card, and then we started on making the post-surgery plan. And at some point our PT said: we're really going to have to watch her, because she is going to get fat. With that bodytype, she is going to gain weight, she is not going to stay fit at all. She needs to be put on a diet, right now. Everyone around the table agreed. And we started to discuss how we could prevent her from getting fat while still keeping her knee safe. We were talking about a very injured little girl, and we were discussing her weight, using brutal and harmful language, as if we were discussing the weather.

Because that is part of professional sports, but the habit of talking about bodies, normalizes it. It becomes a casual conversation, and even with the best intentions, that casual conversation turns very cold very quickly. As if there was no human attached to that body. And from cold, it's only a short step before you become cruel.

When someone's body becomes a series of statistics, a product almost, you start to forget how to appropriately handle it. You forget that you shouldn't have ownership of what happens to that body, you forget that it is not normal.

I hope I never turn abusive, I hope someone steps in before it can even come close to abuse. And I too despise the people who abuse their athletes. But I know how easily you can lose yourself, even when your heart is in the right place.

And that is even without taking into account the stress that comes with having to perform at the highest level, how exhausted we all become the longer the season goes on, how worried we constantly need to be that one bad game is going to end our career at a club. I see my staff more than I see anyone in my family. We're starting pre-season in a week and yesterday I worked until 2AM. We haven't even started yet.

It's just a very difficult environment to work in and that frustration and stress does get taken out on the athletes too. And the exhaustion makes you say things that you know you can't say. It's so toxic, even good people just get lost in it.

I am not condoning what is happening now, I was capable of taking a step back and realizing that my words were not okay, that my actions were deeply flawed. If I can do that, everyone can. But the institution is broken, and that can only lead to broken people.

Wow, thanks for sharing. I can see how easily to can be to lose the human element of it when discussing a player as a "tool" used to better your "company" (team).

The institution is definiltey broken, you see it across all sports at every level.

[berenwrites]

A New Adventure

I am about to embark on a new adventure!

I was born with a condition called talipes (club foot), which I have severely in both feet. Over my childhood I had five different surgeries to help, but I was born in the 70s, and it was a bit wild-west back then, as far as treatments went. I had a superb surgeon, but things have come on a lot since.

I believe in the early 90s a new treatment came in which is much more successful across the board, but those of us pre that were a bit more on the experimental side. 😆

This means that my ankles are virtually fused (they move a few millimetres in each direction, no more), and I walk on my toes and part of the ball of my foot, since I cannot put my heels down.

Through most of my life I've just dealt with it, but I am now of an age where I need more help. I've been using crutches for walking outside the house for years, but I am about to try something new!

I am having my first fitting for foot orthotics on Feb 8th.

An orthosis is “an externally applied device used to influence the structural and functional characteristics of the neuromuscular and skeletal system”. (Yes I got that from the website of The London Orthotic Consultancy who are the lovely people my hubby found when looking online for solutions.)

I didn't even know these were an option, but back in Dec I went to see them and they examined my feet and lower legs, and scanned and measured them.

I learned so much. I always thought that I couldn't bear anyone touching the inside of my ankle very hard because there is a scar there. But no. Turns out there is a tendon or muscle there (can't remember which) that is what allows us to go on tippy toes. Mine is always at full stretch and never gets a chance to rest, so it's very sensitive.

For my height I should also be around a UK size 7, but my feet are only 3 1/2 in length, which screws up my stride pattern.

Anyway, on the 8th Feb I will be going back and being fitted with my custom carbon fibre orthotics, that will hopefully allow me to stand and walk much better than I can now. I don't know if I get to bring them home this time, or if there will need to be adjustments made and I'll have to go back again, but I am very excited.