#Consistent shoulder exercises for pain

[ketolifestyleus]

Exercises for Shoulder Bursitis: Top Pain-Relief Moves

Shoulder bursitis can hurt a lot. It can make your shoulder stiff and sore. Bursitis happens when small sacs in your shoulder get swollen. These sacs help your shoulder move smoothly. Let’s Learn About Shoulder Bursitis Our shoulders do a lot of work. Sometimes, they can be hurt or get tired. When the sacs, or bursae, become swollen, it’s called bursitis. Why should you care? Because bursitis…

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[ladyofstarfall206]

It’s a Forever Kinda Thing

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff

A/N: Part one in a mini series of one shots of how Azriel met his mate.

Parts 2

Feyre knew she shouldn’t linger. Knew she should just walk past Azriel’s door and go downstairs for dinner. But she was curious. Every day after his training session, Azriel would come in and take his mate to their shared room for nearly an hour. You had been one of Feyre’s first friends in Prythian and her primary support when she made the transformation from human to high fae. Rhysand tasked you to teach her how to read and encourage her to explore the full extent of her powers alongside Cassian during the time Feyre resided in the Night Court in accordance with the High Lord’s bargain since you were the only one who could get through to her. That was years ago and Feyre has since become High Lady as well as mother to the heir of night. Still, the two of you seldom left one another’s side, Feyre even requesting that you assist Azriel in overseeing her weekly flying lessons.

The pattern of behavior persisted and Feyre couldn’t help but grow ever curious as to what the two of you were up to. Inquiries made to Rhys and Cassian only yielded responses of “Azriel is a private male” and “She’ll tell you when she is ready”. Even Mor was elusive on the topic of your and Azriel’s mysterious routine. You had grown up alongside Rhys and his brothers, she knew, and the Inner Circle was highly protective of you.

Feyre knew she should have asked you rather than crack open the door that hung slightly ajar, and yet…

“It hurts Azzie…” You wince, laying across your made bed on your stomach with your chin propped up on a stack of pillows. One of your large wings hung off the side of the bed and your other, inoperable and bent inwards since Feyre had known you, rested in your mate’s palm.

“I know, my love. But we must stay consistent with these exercises unless we want the damage to the tendon to atrophy the wing further.” Azriel poured warm oil over your sensitive wing and began massaging the crippled area with gentle hands. The male alternated between rubbing circles into the membrane and gingerly stretching out the wing until the gnarled portion lay flat as it was intended to. “Push against my hand as hard as you can.”

You grunt with exertion as you move to follow his instructions, mustering the strength to lift your crippled wing off of the bed. Even with Azriel holding the appendage straight, you couldn’t manage to knock your wing with enough force against his palm to make his hand move, a reality that caused tears to spring to your eyes. “It’s no good. I’m no good…”

The last thing Feyre saw was Azriel falling to his knees by your bedside and cradling your head against his chest. The next moment, a thick wall of shadows darker than the midnight sky obstructed her view and shut the door in her face. Feyre merely stood still and fixed her blue eyes on the wood as she tried to process what she’d just seen. The pain twisting your beautiful face was enough to form knots in her stomach.

“That is the truth of what the Illyrians do to their females. She did not have a choice and Azriel could not stop it.” Rhysand rested a hand on her shoulder, voice tight with melancholy as he spoke into her ear. “He blames himself everyday, and so do I. Come. They’ll join us for dinner shortly.”

[kenzdolls]

𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈/𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐠𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐩𝐥𝐟, 𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐰𝐚𝐫, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 (𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐢) 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

MEETING DABI:

he acts like he doesn't care about you when you first meet, but he's definitely sizing you up, trying to figure out your quirk and how useful you'll be to the league.

your first real conversation is probably him sarcastically asking if you’re sure you’re in the right place, followed by a cutting remark about your villain name.

he secretly respects a good villain name, though. if yours is clever, it gets you a few points in his book.

if your quirk complements his in some way (like you can create flammable substances or help control his flames), he'll be intrigued, but he'll never let you know that outright. he'll just suddenly be around you more often during training or missions.

he’ll make a rude joke about your villain outfit and then make a comment about how you should “try harder” if you want to make it past this league.

DABI CRUSHING ON YOU:

he'd never admit it, but your dedication to villainy is a huge turn-on for him. seeing you embrace the darker side of yourself is... interesting.

he'll pick fights with you, not because he hates you, but because he wants to see you use your quirk. it’s also his weird way of flirting.

you'll catch him staring at you sometimes when he thinks you're not looking, especially after you've successfully pulled off a particularly brutal or clever move.

he pretends to be annoyed when you ask him for help or advice, but he secretly enjoys it. it's a chance to show off his knowledge and power.

he’ll start leaving small “gifts” for you: stolen items that he thinks you might find useful or amusing. it could be anything from a rare explosive to a vintage lighter to a particularly disturbing news clipping.

if someone else flirts with you, he'll become dangerously territorial. he might not say anything directly, but he'll make his displeasure very clear with a chilling glare or a well-placed threat.

he always seems to know when you are in trouble, often appearing out of nowhere to (reluctantly) help you. He'll deny it if you thank him.

the first time he accidentally touches you (maybe during a training exercise), he'll flinch away like he's been burned, even if it's just a brush of your hands. he’ll pretend it's because he doesn't want to get close to anyone, but really, he's just flustered.

DATING DABI:

dating dabi is intense. it's not all sunshine and roses. expect a lot of angst, brooding, and philosophical debates about the nature of heroism and villainy.

he's not good with physical affection at first. maybe a fleeting touch or a hand on your shoulder. it takes time for him to get comfortable with more.

he’ll only show you his soft side when you’re alone. think quiet moments where he lets his guard down and actually talks to you about his past (but only in vague terms, of course).

he’s fiercely protective of you, but he’ll never coddle you. he believes in your strength and will push you to become even stronger.

his love language is acts of service. he might not say "i love you," but he'll always make sure you have everything you need to succeed in your villainous endeavors.

he'll open up to you, eventually, about his past as touya. but it'll be a slow, painful process, filled with anger and resentment. be patient with him.

he'll test you, constantly. he needs to know that you're loyal, that you understand him, and that you're not going to abandon him like everyone else in his life.

dates consist of arson. maybe robbing a place, maybe blowing up a building that’s endeavor’s.

he'll find a "comfortable spot" that he isn't burning hot, and let you touch him there.

he finds comfort in hearing about your plans for the future, even if they’re incredibly violent. just knowing you're thinking about the future at all is comforting to him.

he might buy you jewelry he steals from the heroes he kills.

he will start trying to control his flames, but he will never be able to completely. he will always have a small fire burning somewhere on his skin.

he hates cuddling but he doesn't complain when you rest your head against his chest, as long as it's over his clothes.

he finds it hard to smile so his way of showing you he is happy is through a small nod.

you'll be one of the few people who see him smile. it's rare, but when it happens, it's genuine and surprisingly beautiful.

you’re his anchor. you’re the reason he keeps fighting, the reason he hasn’t completely succumbed to the darkness. he’d never admit it out loud, but you’re the most important thing in his life.

© 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 —

[wonky-joints]

i feel like something that isn't always considered when people get mobility aids without consulting a professional, and sometimes even when a professional is involved, is that a cane/crutch/walker/chair is not always going to be what you actually might need. not just from the perspective of the risk-reward ratio (because none of those are without risk) but also from the perspective that there are many things that can affect mobility that addressing would lessen or even remove the need for those things.

once i had the right physio exercises and was doing them consistently, i started needing my crutches a lot less. replacing my shoe's insoles regularly slightly helped with the pain i was having, and since i got custom orthotic insoles from a podiatrist i have pretty much not needed my crutches at all (excluding an incident where i'd pulled my back but i digress). i still have some difficulty and pain when walking, but that difficulty is so much less than it was before that the risk-reward ratio of crutches is no longer worth it for me.

i still keep my crutches around just in case, but i am incredibly glad not to have to rely on them as much, if at all, anymore, because while having them was better than nothing, having other things and not using them is even better. i no longer have to worry about my wrists and arms and shoulder pain from crutch use, i don't have to worry about deconditioning, i don't have to struggle when opening doors or navigating tight spaces.

[nocturnewidow]

hi! hope you’re having a great day!! :p

sorry if this is a weird or strange request, but could i request the moonknight boys(??) finding out and trying to help the reader recover from self harm?? again, so sorry if this is weird!! feel free to ignore this <33 thanks!!

Hi sweet one, thank you for trusting me with something so tender. This isn’t weird at all,, you’re safe here, and I’m honored to help you hold space for a fic like this.

Moon Knight system x GN!Reader ⋆.˚

Reader is recovering from self-harm | Comfort, Softness, Safe Touch, Gentle Love

Steven Grant.𖥔 ݁ ˖

He finds out accidentally one evening, when you’re curled up in bed and shift a little too far under the covers. A sleeve rides up. He catches the faintest glimpse,, faded lines. He doesn’t say anything immediately, not because he’s ignoring it, but because he respects you so much he wants to say the right thing.

Later, he makes tea with shaky hands. Chamomile. He sits beside you, knee barely brushing yours, and murmurs, “I saw… on your arm. I hope that’s okay to say.” His voice is fragile, like paper, but his eyes are wide and full of nothing but care.

“I just—wanted you to know, yeah? That you don’t have to hide anything from me. I’m here. Always.”

He offers to help in little, consistent ways. Leaves notes on the bathroom mirror:

“You made it through another day. I’m so proud of you.”

Always asks before touching, but he’ll gently squeeze your fingers or brush your knuckles if you seem like you’re spiraling. It’s grounding. Safe.

The kind of person who’d read books about recovery and mental health specifically so he doesn’t say the wrong thing.

Marc Spector✶⋆.˚

Marc doesn’t find out through words,, you don’t tell him, but one night he notices when you’re changing in the mirror. He stiffens. Quiet.

His first instinct is to blame himself. “Was I too much? Did I miss something?”

But then he grounds himself. Breathes. He’s been through so much pain and he realizes, you’ve been surviving too.

“Hey. You don’t have to explain anything, but I see you. I see the fight in you. And if you let me, I’ll be there for you, every step.”

He’s not always gentle with the world, but he is with you. His voice drops low and warm when he talks to you on hard days. He calls you “tough” but never in a way that romanticizes the pain.

Offers practical support. Asks if you want him to help you build a new routine,, exercise, mindfulness, late-night walks under the stars when the world feels too loud.

Keeps his phone on all the time. “Call me. I don’t care what time. 3 AM, 4 AM,, doesn’t matter.”

Jake Lockley₊˚⊹⋆

Jake sees everything, even the things you try to hide. He probably knew before anyone else, but didn’t say anything until you did.

When you finally let it slip in a moment of exhaustion, he just nods. Not surprised. Not judging.

“I know, cariño. I’ve seen it. I’ve just been waiting for you to trust me with it.”

He doesn’t use a lot of words, but his actions scream safety. Always watching your body language, always ready to intervene if you look overwhelmed.

Keeps your favorite hoodie in his cab so you can wrap yourself in something soft. Always makes sure there’s music playing,, nothing too loud, but something to distract your thoughts.

Shows love through presence. You don’t even have to talk. He’ll just sit beside you, one arm slung around your shoulder, thumb stroking slow circles into your skin like: I’m here. Stay here with me.

When you tell him about a bad night, he doesn’t get mad. He gets quiet. Then he says something simple like,

“You’re not broken. I’ve done worse. But we keep going, yeah?”

Together,,

They work as a team, always communicating behind the scenes to make sure you never feel abandoned. Some nights, Steven reads to you. Some nights, Marc lets you cry into his chest. Some nights, Jake just drives with no destination until you fall asleep against the window.

They each offer different kinds of love, but all of them are real. All of them are healing.

Most of all, they make sure you know:

Your scars are not shameful. They are part of your story, but they are not the end of it.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Jesus | Nox Vincitur | Platonic

Since Gaius’ conversion, you’ve been seeing a shadow at night without you being able to move. A storm overwhelms you during a walk outside town, but help is not far off.

Requested by Diana

A sharp gasp leaves your lungs as your eyes shoot open, your fingers— Tightening inside the sheets. They cling to your skin uncomfortably. Adjusting to the darkness around you, you let your eyes go through the room to your best ability. It must be some way past midnight, judging by the way the moonlight trickles through the gap between the curtains. Shadows creep up around you. 

Gulping hard, you attempt to move. A trickle of sweat leaks across your brow, your throat feeling constricted. You can’t move— Panic begins to grow inside the cavity of your chest.

A feeling of dread comes over you. Not again…

Tears blur your vision and you blink them away, the darkness of night lurking, gathering in the corner of your room. A figure takes shape, one with long fingers and exaggerated limbs. Even though it consists of nothing but shadows that have no true substance, part of you could swear you see a dangerous set of sharp fangs shimmer in the moonlight. 

You try to move— You can’t— Your arms and legs are heavy against your bed, impossible to be lifted. The sheer blanket that sticks to your skin is suddenly suffocatingly solid against you, your brow furrowing as you will yourself to move— Sit up— Sit up! 

Fear grips at your throat as your own body doesn’t listen to you, your eyebrows knitting together in a painful line. The shadowy figure moves towards you like a nightly terror, smirking at you with these shimmering teeth, inching closer— You can hear it breathe, rapidly and violently, until you realise that you are listening to your own noises, panic shunting through your chest.

Pray— You need to pray— Your pater has taught you the words. Gaius had recently come to believe in Jesus Christ, the Messiah Who had healed your half-brother. His heart is so full that it overflows with joy, and now, he cannot keep his mouth shut. You try to remember the words, but they don’t spring back into your mind. 

Only small bits of the prayer come back to you, and you mutter them even though you cannot move your mouth. At last, the darkness fades. Perhaps that it is the rising sun that wills it to leave, but you eventually let yourself be drawn back under into a deep sleep. 

When you wake at the sound of your twin brother banging his hands on the door in order to get you to play with him and Ivo, you are able to move again. Blearily, you open your eyes and rub the sleep from the corners thereof, your body still heavy as you drag yourself out of bed. With slow, measured movements, you manage to rise and get dressed for the day, prodding at the dark circles that sit under your eyes. 

Once in the kitchen, you grab yourself a light breakfast with the intention to remain unseen, but your mother halts you by putting a hand on your arm. “My child,” she whispers, tilting your chin up so that you can face her, “What happened to you? Did you sleep at all? Are you sick?” 

Your prepubescent state makes you swat away her way-too adoring hand and you click your tongue. “I’m fine, mater,” you reassure Livia with a roll of your eye, “You worry too much.” 

Right as you are about to leave and go outside to sit in the yard to watch your brothers play, your mother stops you once more by saying: “Did you have nightmares again?” 

You freeze, the tension in your shoulders rising in such a way that you cannot deny it, and you sigh. “Yes,” you admit, “I… I was awake, but I wasn’t. I knew that what I was seeing wasn’t real, that the shadows weren’t truly there, but it felt real. And I just… Just couldn’t move.” 

Livia hums and steps closer to you. “Why don’t you go to the outskirts of town to find the apricot trees? Some fresh air, exercise and the nice fruit might calm your nerves, hm?” 

“I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous?” 

Your mother gently turns you to face her. This time, you do not brush her touch away. “A lot has been happening in this household lately. It is nothing but logical that you might feel… Overwhelmed. Your father has them, too. The dreams, I mean. He told me that he might ask Jesus about it some time.” 

Your heart leaps at the sound of His Name being spoken. Ever since Jesus healed your half-brother, things have been looking up for you. Now that your father was Praetor, he finally felt like he could really be of meaning to the people of Capernaum, and he had become an entirely different man. Emotional in a positive, regulated way.

“I’ll go and get some apricots, then.”

“Perhaps that Marius and Ivo can come with you?” 

You huff and shake your head. “No, I… Even though I’d appreciate the company, I’m not in the mood for their pranks at the moment.”

She gently pats your cheek in an understandable way and nods. “Alright, then,” she muses, smiling softly. “I’ll see you later, alright?” 

You nod and set out for the nature surrounding the fishing village. The streets are crowded in preparation for this week’s Shabbat, something that your father has been wanting to celebrate with you as well.

The fields are blooming with flowers and wildlife roams about, leaving you with a comforting sense of loneliness as you begin to walk around the place. The grass slides between your fingers as you drag your hands through it, a dragonfly zooming past your face. You pleasantly hum as the sun hits your cheeks, causing you to tilt up your head and inhale the scent of freedom. 

You know that the apricot trees your mother mentioned are quite a walk away from here, but you reckon that she suggested it on purpose so that you could clear your head. Spending time outside has made it so that you sleep better at night. Besides, it means that your twin and half-brother are bothering you less during the day. Not that you do not love them, but they are definitely more energetic than you can handle these days. 

Carefully crossing a nearby creek by hopping on slippery stones, you find your way down a hill as clouds block the sun overhead. What a pity, you think to yourself, for you were just starting to soak in the warmth properly. Luckily, you had brought a cloak just in case, and so, you tie it at the front in order to keep warm. 

The trees are calling out to you and you quicken your step, hearing the ripe fruits basically singing your name. You begin picking a few delicious looking fruits, gathering them in your arms as you take a seat on a fallen log, happily digging in as you enjoy the unhurried passage of your day.

The sky is growing heavy with rain, a deep blue wall of clouds rolling in your direction. Polishing off the final apricot you had picked, you wipe your hands on your tunic and decide to head home, your spirits definitely lifted with this solo trip to the orchard. 

When you stand, you look around, heading in the general direction you arrived from, but when the trees don’t seem that familiar to you, you halt, think, and change your route slightly.

A few drops of rain hit your face as you pass by a rock formation you have never seen before, and you stand still. Perhaps you should walk back and try to find your own footsteps to follow them home. 

You left with the sun in your face, so now you should try and use it in order to find your way back home. It should warm your back— The idea to follow its direction quickly fades, for more clouds are packing together, completely hiding it from your view. A feeling of dread begins to well inside your chest.

How strange; you had never been lost before. Are you lost? 

Thunder rolls in the distance. You look up at the open field to see a crack of lightning illuminate the sky. The heavens are opening up, the rain beginning to pelt down in fat, cold drops of water. You shiver a bit as you frantically begin looking around.

You freeze as you look at a group of trees, seeing that same figure from last night begin to lurk underneath the shade their leaves bring forth. With an uncomfortable twisting in your gut, you begin to stagger backwards, away from it. 

It isn’t real— None of this is— Thunder rumbles and startles you. You attempt to think rationally, but panic blooms within. Before you know it, you are running. 

Water— There was a creek. On your way here, you crossed a creek, although this one is different. The outline of Capernaum is barely visible now, your vision obstructed by the rain you’re squinting against. You find a mossy rock in the water, hoping for the best. Hop— Hop— Hop— You nearly lose your balance as you gasp and manage to stay standing, looking down at the water below. Wait, when did the creek get such a violent undertow?

You try to regain a sense of orientation, but begin to realise that you are thoroughly lost in this unforeseen storm. Perhaps you should turn back, jump quickly to solid ground, and come up with a new plan—

—The mossy boulder is too slippery and your gut drops as you feel your foot slide away, and out of instinct, you shield yourself, bracing for the impact lest your chin collide with the unforgiving stone below, but instead, you feel all air leave you as you are grabbed by the scruff of your tunic, loudly gasping as you feel your airways become tight. 

“Easy, there,” A voice calms you as you are helped onto the shore with a few ungraceful sways of your arms. “Sorry about that.” 

When you look up, rubbing at your throat, you realise it is Jesus Who has just saved you from a rather embarrassing fall into the icy water. 

“Teacher!” you breathe, coughing to get rid of the raspiness of your voice, “I mean— It’s You!” 

Jesus chuckles. “Of course it is Me.” 

Sudden tears of humiliation cloud your vision. “I… I’m lost.” 

“Not anymore,” says He.

You swallow, feeling your face heat up. “I… I mean, my house is quite a bit away…” 

“I know. I will help you find it.” 

Suddenly, relief floods you, as if you’re only now realising how scared you had actually been feeling, the adrenaline leaving your veins. You don’t know what exactly prompts you to do it, but you let yourself leap into Jesus’ arms, Who catches you as if you weigh nothing. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” the Messiah reassures. “Are you alright? You seem a little pale in the face.” 

You swallow hard and shake your head. “No,” you mutter, “Teacher, I’ve… I’ve had dreams. My father has them, too. Of figures in our room at night, terrors lurking in the dark corners. I can never move, I—” You begin to shiver, but you aren’t sure if it is from the cold or from the intensity of being faced with the Son of God. 

“I understand,” Jesus tells you, “And it isn’t uncommon for evil to try and regain its grip on you now that you are a new believer. Sometimes, evil never stops trying to get to you. But you are stronger than what plagues you, even if you don’t always feel it.”

“I don’t get it,” you admit, a little puzzled, “I mean, we believe in You now. Our hearts are Yours. We speak Your Name openly. Why doesn’t it go away? I… When I prayed, I eventually fell asleep, but… It was terrifying nevertheless.” The Preacher hums and gives you a thoughtful look. 

“I know.” He states, “But you know what to do. You have already been doing it, and you need to keep repeating the words of Truth. Speak My Name out loud, and darkness will flee from you. Before you go to bed, pray to the Father that they will leave you alone.”

“And what if they still show up? What if I cannot talk aloud?” you whisper. 

“Your faith is not limited to spoken word. Call on Me inside your heart and mind, and I will come to your aid. And fear not, for I have overcome the world. It will pass, but My love will not. Hold onto that, and keep reminding it to Whom you belong.” 

Smiling up at Jesus, you nod at Him. “Okay,” you say, “I can work with that.” 

He nods and gently taps your nose. “Now… Let Me bring you home, alright?”

You don’t protest that idea, for the cold of the rain has started to soak you to the bone. Somehow, the route back to your house doesn’t seem that far as you had first thought it was. Worriedly, your mother yanks the door open as she hears footsteps approach, but when her gaze falls on Jesus, she gasps in wonder. 

“It’s Him!” she exclaims, “He is here! Gaius, come!” 

Your father quickly joins his wife in the hallway, your brothers soon coming downstairs to see what the commotion is about. “Lord,” Gaius breathes, bowing at Him. “What brings You here?” 

Jesus gently pushes you forward. “I found someone all by herself on the outskirts of the village.” 

“(Y/n),” Livia breathes, pulling you back into her arms without caring about how drenched your outfit is. You hum, smiling a little at her soft affection. 

“Mater…” 

“I’m sorry, I was just so worried about you.” 

Gaius puts a hand on your shoulder and looks at Jesus, Who is still standing on the threshold. “Lord, would You like to have dinner with us tonight? Please, we insist.” 

The Nazarene’s gaze goes between you and your parents, then to your brothers and back to you again. “I cannot say no to that,” He says, smiling as He accepts the invitation. 

You happily step aside to allow Him entry, the house already smelling of freshly prepared food. 

“I hope You like fish.” 

“It is one of My favourites.”

[charliemwrites]

https://www.tumblr.com/charliemwrites/734894560372785152/i-feel-like-johnny-would-keep-his-pet-in-a-place

could you write a one shot about this please?

Hi there! Sure, I can take a crack at it.

(Warnings for chasing and crying, shy thing does not enjoy this game of tag)

It takes a month for Johnny to let you outside. He coos that you’re too skittish and little to be out there even with supervision - something will scoop you right up!

But you’re desperate enough to get even a glimpse of the outside world again that you fully commit to asking. Legs tucked under you on the couch, hands on his chest, eyes big and mouth soft.

“P-please?” You ask with just a little whine in it. “I wanna see the rest of my home.”

Even though he’s kidnapped you, lying never feels good on your tongue. Like tiny needles injecting venom into your tastebuds, it’s bitter.

But it works.

Johnny takes you out back with your hand firmly in his, fingers interlocked like a couple. Your heart sinks a bit when you see just how isolated this cage is. Forest as far as your eyes can see, dense and untamed. No fence or walls though…

You tell yourself you’re biding your time and strategizing when really you’re just working up the courage. The consequences for failure, you’re aware, could be fatal if not painful. Or both. You try not to think about it as the luxurious, soft life he says he’s offering becomes ever more tempting.

One day he lets you out untethered. He’s been letting your radius for wandering expand a little more each time, assured by your consistent return when he calls. Today he gets a call, left his phone inside but you both can hear it from the yard.

“Ah, that’s the LT’s ringtone. Behave, doll, I’ll be right back.”

You only wait until he’s past the doorway before bolting. Have no idea where you’re going or what you’ll do. Just need to get far and fast. Branches and brush scrape at you, you almost trip three times. Feel like your heart is beating out of your chest because this has to work. You’re terrified of what it means if it doesn’t.

It feels like you’ve been running for a small eternity when you hear it - a loud snap behind you. You chance a look over your shoulder and nearly scream. Hes right there. And that grin on his face….

You dart between trees, hop fallen logs. Every step of the way he’s right behind you, pacing you.

You see a break in the trees up ahead, pray it’s a road or something and run as fast as you can, burst through the tree line-

“Gotcha!”

Johnny takes you tumbling down into the soft grass, covering your head and face, rolling with the momentum until you’re pinned under him. Tears are already spilling over as he laughs above you.

“Silly baby,” he coos, “should have told me if you needed some exercise! That was so naughty.”

You stutter out an “I’m sorry” praying for mercy now.

“Now, I’ll be nice since this is your first time, but you are getting punished.”

You shudder, tears coming faster. He tsks and gathers you, starts walking you both back towards the house.

“Now, now,” he chides teasingly, “if you’re brave enough to go wandering in the woods, you’re brave enough for a little discipline, aye?”

[balkanradfem]

Looking back at past insecurities

So as you all know, I am today very wise and mature woman; I say smart things, and I have good opinions. However, there was a time when I was but a wee child, with no insight, but I still had opinions. And insecurities, like all female children, I was worried about my looks.

One of the things I was upset about, was the appearance of my legs. Women's legs were shown in media as the main attraction back in the early 90s, when I was consuming movies and cartoons. Even in animation, a signal that a beautiful woman was behind the corner, was a dainty, curvy leg being shown from behind the wall, to distract and lure an unsuspecting character. My leg was not curvy or dainty. My legs looked muscular. They were also very hairy. I would look at them and feel like maybe I am not a girl enough, maybe I got too many traits passed down from my father, and now I didn't look like a girl, and I wouldn't count as one, and I could never pass a successful female cartoon character, a thing that was very important back in the day.

It's also, when you're a teen, you're convinced that any visual flaw you have is the reason why nobody will ever love you. It's funny now, but when you're 14 it feels real. So I believed I would be left behind by the world, because my legs were so unsightly and I shouldn't ever allow anyone to look at them, the disgrace. The shame.

I have since lived a fair bit of my life, and found that my legs, not only look muscular, they're very strong. They give me immensely good balance, because my feet are also large, and my thighs hold a lot of weight, so my center of balance is very low. Nobody can push me and have me topple over, I stand still. I rarely fall down because of how naturally good my balance is. I was able to go running, even after being sick for months, and I could do it for half an hour without training, just because of how naturally strong my legs are. I can do leg exercises without any issues, even without being consistent with it. Now I'm mad that my arms are so weak and I can't lift things as well as I can use my legs. My ability to walk, run, keep balance, climb, exercise, have been invaluable to my life. I'm never looking at my legs with anything but admiration because they're a powerful asset to me.

Another thing I had felt a bit bad about, was the size of my nose. I thought it was too big for my face, and it wasn't really. It was too much media with tiny nosed women that have swayed my opinion of how big women's noses are allowed to be. But, I thought I'd look better with a smaller nose, and that it was making my face be ugly, so it was a reason to drown in sorrow. (I say this jokingly. I only felt a little bad).

I look at the mirror now, and I'm laughing because this nose is big so I could breathe really well! I really thought as a teen that I would do better with a smaller nose? That's where my breathing goes trough! My lungs are, blessed and healthy, and this means I am not struggling to breathe, I am able to fall asleep breathing trough my nose easily, I can blow a lot of phlegm when I'm sick all at once, and clear my nostrils easily, this is a very functional and good nose to have! And it's the correct size for my face, I would look ridiculous with any other nose than my own.

A lot of my opinions have changed, because I've aged and experienced life, I've met a lot of people who didn't have what I had. A pair of healthy legs, a good functional nose. I've befriended people who had something wrong with their leg, or had one missing. People who struggled with breathing. I've met older people who had trouble with their hips, arms, shoulders, back, eyes, skin. I sadly, got some parts of me non-functional too, so now I can't run or walk as I used to, and I experience problems and pain on almost daily basis. So now it feels very silly to be critical of appearance of perfectly good, functioning, healthy and helpful body parts; they're giving me great joy and ability to do whatever I want with them!

And I also believe I never would think to feel shame about the appearance of my nose, or my legs, if I hadn't been exposed to media that was very particular about how women, or female characters could look. It was like being told 'this is whats expected of you', and I couldn't reach it. I was a teen, and teens are more sensitive to appearance than any other demographic. It made me distressed. There was nothing I could do but feel like something is wrong with me, and I would be proclaimed ugly because of this severe flaw. Somehow males were never subjected to standards that harsh; they would receive onscreen representation love regardless of the muscles in their legs, or sizes of their noses, I wonder why is that.

It would have been so nice to see hairy, muscular, big nosed women in the media when I was a kid! Then I would look at my legs and nose and think 'yes, I am just like that female superhero, I am going to kick ass when I grow up'. Wouldn't that have been nice to grow up with?

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 46: Oneirology

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Mikey goes through a lot of exercises and examinations in the morning. Dr. Chaplin is there for all of it.

Mikey is made uncomfortable by his presence, by his calm smile that is consistent throughout the day. At one point, he places a hand on Mikey's shoulder, as if to make him feel comfortable. Or to create the idea that they are close friends, that Mikey can trust him.

It has the complete opposite effect, and Mikey's entire body is set to pins and needles at the touch. His stomach in knots, his mind static, his hands tremble under the immense weight that hand holds over him.

He sits as still as stone underneath that hand. If he moves, if he breathes, if he cries or smiles or laughs, who knows what punishment he will earn?

And yet... Mikey wishes the touch would last longer. It's warm, it feigns kindness and familiarity. He pretends the hand belongs to someone else, he pretends it belongs to Blue or Red or Purple.

Even though... they don't love Mikey. He doesn't blame them for not loving him, he doesn't even love him. How could he, when he's just a freakish mutant thing?

He tries not to shake, he tries not to cry. He ducks his face away so no one will see.

He wishes he wasn't such a monster. He wishes he was something else. A dust mite, a bottle, a picture hanging on a wall. Maybe a cat, or maybe a bird, or even a worm. Something, anything, that has even an iota of meaning and purpose in the world.

Their necessity in the grand scheme of things outweighs his own, in any case...

And someone must love those things, right?

Mikey can't stop crying. He catches himself on the verge constantly, the tears burning the edges of his eyes.

Dr. Chaplin watches over Mikey the entire first half of the day. He practically hovers over him, like Mikey is his little child at the nurses' office for a checkup, or a precious toy that is getting maintenance.

Dr. Timothy and Dr. Finn do all sorts of examinations and physical tests and check-ups and such and so forth. They take Mikey's temperature, they do a DNA test, the inspect his teeth and claws, they check this and that and that and this and this and that and...

...Why don't the colours love Mikey?

Didn't they love him at one time? Weren't they here with him once? They must have lived with him in the labs, so... were they family? Friends? 

Did they look like him? Smell like him? Did they have spots, too?

The doctors say that Mikey was the first and only success in the TCRI mutation experiments. Does that mean that Red, Blue, and Purple are...

...........dead.....?

...Mikey hopes not.

As awful as it is, as painful as it could be... Mikey hopes they left him. Mikey hopes they escaped, got out, something.

He wonders if they think about him.

...But they probably don't. They probably never looked back. And why would they? Why think about this place in any way??

Mikey.... Mikey hopes that they're happy now. Wherever they are.

The tests go on.

Mikey zones out for the whole of they day until he's put back in his cage.

...Maybe Mikey should stop thinking about them, too.

It hurts too much.

Mikey curls in his cage, turning his back to the other experiments in the room. It really is hopeless for him, isn't it?

They all really do hate him, don't they? He'll never get out of here. He'll never see them again.

It's... it's hopeless. He'll never find home...

This is your home, Instinct whispers. I am all you need.

Mikey is tired of listening to him. He tries to ignore him. It's hard.

So Mikey just lays there, in the uncomfortable silence of the labs.

The animals bark and yowl and mew and chirp and hiss and snap and so on.

The doctors argue and discuss things amongst themselves.

At some point, Mikey must've fallen asleep. He only figures this out when he is woken most abruptly by an alarm ringing through the labs. Feet scamper back and forth as scientists start grabbing what they can and then making a break for the doors.

Mikey turns to peek out just a moment to see what the fuss is about. He's never heard an alarm like this before.

"...how many intruders did they say?"

"Not sure, but we have to get everything out of here..."

"What do we do about the experiments?"

"Leave 'em! They're just stupid dumb animals--"

"And the Mikey experiment?"

Silence. Mikey looks out between bars as the two men contemplate what to do.

"...We don't have time to move him. Just... just cover up his cage and push it in the back. Hide him."

"Is that really wise??"

"You heard the alarm! I'm not risking getting nabbed by some thrill-seeking idiots! And what if they're robbers, or armed? And the likelihood that they'll make it to this floor before security gets them --"

"Alright, alright! Fine, geez... do you see a tarp or blanket or something we can use?"

"Yeah, I think there's a fire-resistant sheet in the closet for emergencies..."

Mikey watches with curiosity as one man grabs the blanket and the other starts pushing Mikey's cage into the back of the room, finding a dimly lit corner that will hide him well enough.

"Don't just stand there, help me already! This thing is heavy!"

"Right. Hey, how do we know this thing won't make any noise or something?"

"He's smart, he knows not to do that. Don't you, freak?"

Mikey swallows and whimpers, cowering even further into the corners of his cage.

The two finally push his pen into the corner, and drape the cloth over it. They press a finger to their mouth, signaling him not to make a sound before pulling the cloth as far over his enclosure as possible before running away and turning the lights down.

Mikey shivers. He's not sure why he's so nervous.

Stupid fearful wretch. Do you think this will keep you alive? Fear is weakness!

Mikey begs Instinct not to berate him right now. It's hard to stay quiet when Instinct is --

How pathetic you are. How revolting. They couldn't even care enough about you to take you with them.

Please, stop... Mikey's begging you, j-just --

And Instinct doesn’t just mean the evil humans. 'They' couldn't care less about you either. You spend every spare woebegone second crying over those worthless colours! And where are they now?! GONE, THAT'S WHERE! They LEFT you, and ABANDONED you, and all you can think of is how much they could have loved you?? HAH! I was wrong to keep you alive. I was wrong to save you, to fight for you. You aren't even worth it.

Mikey cries.

Stop crying, idiot!!

He can't.

It's... it's so hopeless. Why did he ever have hope? What for?? A happy ending? A family? Someone to hold him and love him?

What a hollow dream that was. Mikey should have known... h-he should have never hoped... Mikey isn't even a monster. He's less than that. He's nothing.

Oh, how long it has taken you to realize, Instinct sighs.

Mikey sobs quietly.

He cries and curls tighter and tighter and tighter around himself, hoping that he'll disappear inside of himself... if it's possible.

A door slams open, causing him to jolt out of his self-pity party. Mikey tries to stop sobbing. Keep quiet, keep quiet!!

Mikey can't stop crying, can't stop whining and whimpering and...

A-and...

What's... what's that smell?

Oof, it smells bad. Strange. But... but he.... he KNOWS that smell, doesn't he?

Red.

RED.

The colour engulfs his mind as the scent comes into focus.

I-it's... it's him. It's Red.

No, it can't be! Red is --

Is here in the room. Red is HERE!!

Oh.

Oh no. Oh, no, no no no....

Mikey can't let Red see him.

He hides, pushing himself as far away from the cage door as he can.

Red CANNOT find him! H-he can't, if Red sees Mikey, th-then he'll be so angry! Mikey knows they left him, Mikey knows that he was gone, they must be so angry at him! And Mikey knows... Mikey is a monster. Mikey can't remember what he looked like before, but he does recall that he looks different now... He doesn't want Red to see him.

Mikey prays that Red doesn't find him.

His heart pounds louder and louder as he listens to each step get closer. He BEGS himself to SHUT UP, STOP CRYING!! HE'LL HEAR YOU!

And hear him he does. Mikey hides his face, cowering in the dark as he hears the shuffling of feet coming towards his cage.

There's a loud CLANG noise as Red destroys the lock. Mikey's body freezes in terror.

The door opens.

Mikey finds himself reacting purely out of fear. He doesn't even know why he does what he does, but Mikey lunges out of the cage and hides behind Red. Red gasps in shock at the speed, but doesn't react beyond that.

Mikey clings onto him, breath trembling in his lungs.

It's Red... it's Red...

Oh..... oh the familiar feeling of hope.

He CAME. Red CAME BACK FOR HIM.

Despite his utter terror, Mikey can't bring himself to let go. Red seems to notice this.

"Alright, you can stay up there, but I need to go find my brother," Red replies with a sigh.

Mikey is confused... brother? He means Mikey! Does he not know? Has he truly not realized...

Mikey lets out a churr, unsure whether or not to tell him. He's... he's looking for him. He's searching for him. He WANTS to find him...

Red places a hand over his shell, helping him to stay in place on his shoulder.

"His name is Mikey," Red says, head swivelling from side to side as he searches the room. "He's got spots and the biggest smile you'll ever see. Mikey's also super talented. Kid can bake, draw, and dance better than anyone."

Mikey chirps, a smile gracing his face. He tries to hug him as best he can in his position. His tail wags, slapping the back legs of Red as he continues.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Instinct tells him not to fall for it, stay on his guard...

"I love him," Red continues, voice cracking. "A lot. I'd do anything for him."

Red goes on and on and on about Mikey, talking of special skills or talents he has, their relationship, and so many other things.

He... he loves Mikey?

He loves...

Someone.... someone loves Mikey.

Someone loves him enough to come into this place. To look for him. Despite what he's done.

Red loves Mikey. Despite all he thought, despite the hope that died and the many times Mikey was convinced of the opposite... he loves him. Mikey was wrong. Red loves Mikey...

He starts crying again.

"Ew! Did you just drool on me!? Come on!"

Mikey cries even more. Red loves him. Mikey never knew that... Mikey realizes that they didn't betray him, he betrayed them...

Red sighs and rubs Mikey's back.

"Hey, sorry for saying all that….you've probably been through enough already."

Mikey rubs his cheek against Red's head, gently wrapping his arms under his neck in what could loosely be described as a hug.

Mikey... Mikey is so sorry, Red. Mikey's so sorry...

"Don't worry about it. I'm not sad. Not as long as I find him," Red explains.

But... Mikey is right here?

Red doesn't understand. Mikey still can't show him his face. He's too scared. Maybe Red will stop loving him if he sees Mikey...

But he has to help Red. He starts tugging Red's shoulders, pulling him in a specific direction. Out of the room, into the hall, towards the elevator.

"I can't go without my brother," Red refuses, trying to pull Mikey off of his shoulders. "Here, you get out, you've probably been trapped long enough."

No, Mikey can't let Red see him!

Red gets irritated as Mikey mews in anxiety, clinging onto his shell and acting completely uncooperative. Red groans in frustration.

"Listen, I can't-"

The scales on Mikey's skin stand up on edge. He smells something.

Danger.

Mikey turns back and sees the cages of the mutants be opened remotely. That's not good. He looks up and sees a camera in the hallway watching them.

Oh. Oh no.

This is Mikey's fault. They don't want him to leave. They're going to take Red away from him again --

NO.

Mikey can't let them have his... brother... They cannot take Red.

Mikey leaps off of Red's back.

"I can't let you down! They're still coming!"

Red whirls around and comes face to face with reality.

Mikey stares at him, eyes sad and smile just barely visible.

Mikey's so sorry, Red...

"M-Mikey….?"

Mikey turns around and growls at the oncoming battle.

Shall we kill? Instinct asks.

Yes, Mikey answers.

WONDERFUL.

Mikey charges.

He'll make it up to Red. He'll protect him. He'll save him, he'll fight for him, kill for him, die for him. Anything.

Mikey will do good.

.

.

.

Mikey has to guard his face from the light as he steps through the door. He wonders how many times in one night can he endure this...

As the light dims and fades away, Mikey notices that the flooring beneath his feet seems change. It slowly shifts from soft and smooth wood to hard concrete bricks, cold and wet or slimy with every other step.

The light finally subsides, revealing the scenery around him.

It's the sewers.

Not a minka or pagoda built for a big family.

But a wide open series of tunnels refurbished for a family of five.

Mikey knows this place from his memories...

The walls are spray-painted with artsy symbols and phrases from movies like Hot Soup! or Jupiter Jim Saves the Day! and Heroes in a Half-Shell -- Turtle Power!

Mikey hears something down the hall. He follows the noise as it gets louder and more distinct. There's laughter, shouting, giggling, eggings-on of children...

Mikey enters into the rec room, where all the other halls lead and eventually connect to. There are four turtle tots making such a joyful ruckus as they play games and run after each other.

There's little Raphie, wearing an oversized jersey and a football helmet over his mask as he plays tag, running from the others at a slightly slower pace so they can catch up with him.

Baby blue Leo is next, just about to latch onto his tail in the game of tag. His mask is bunched up like a bandana over his head, the iconic blue tee with the word RAD flows behind him as he chases after the biggest brother.

Donnie runs after the two at a slightly slower pace. His puffy jacket hinders his speed ever so slightly, and he stops every so often to readjust his glasses.

Mikey watches with awe at the sight of his brothers so teeny tiny, so young, so carefree...

"Guys! Wait fow me!"

Mikey's eyes widen at the sight of one singular tot, chubby and small, waddling as fast as he can after the trio.

"I has wittle legs, I can't keep up!"

The corners of Mikey's mouth turn up in a gradual smile as he watches the fond memory of his childhood.

"They're cute, aren't they?"

Mikey's head snaps to the side. There's... another person here.

He barely recognizes him at first. But he's had enough of his memories to return to be able to remember his former self.

"...It's you..."

The former Mikey smiles brightly at him, snickering just a bit.

He looks almost exactly like his memories, apart from a pair of large rose gold glasses adorning his face.

"How... I-I mean, why...."

"Aren't they adorable?" the other Mikey asks, glancing back to look at the toddlers. "Can you believe we were ever that cute?"

Mikey doesn't answer yet, he just watches the kids playing.

Turtle tot Mikey pauses, and turns to look at them. The other tots don't seem to notice the grown kids, but he does somehow. He smiles and waves at them.

"Who ya wavin' to, Mikey?"

"Just some friends!"

The tots all run down the corridor. Mikey reaches out to the child, almost begging him to stay.

"Where are they going?" he asks the other Mikey.

But the other Michelangelo doesn't really respond.

Mikey runs after them, following down the corridor for the kids. They all run into the TV room, where Splinter had left a copy of Crouching Shrimp, Hidden Tiger Prawn playing on the projector screen.

He watches with slight nostalgic jealousy as the kids try to recreate the scene from the movie.

"Hard to believe that's us," says the other Michelangelo as he struts in after Mikey, leaning against the archway.

"Y-yeah," Mikey stammers, thrown off by Michelangelo's reappearance.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Michelangelo asks, gesturing to the side table and wraparound couch in the corner of the room.

Mikey follows his counterpart and sits across from him, eyeing him nervously.

"I thought we could talk for a bit," Michelangelo says with a gentle smile.

"What about?" Mikey asks, tail twitching restlessly along the cushions.

"Some things that I felt were important to address. Before we have to leave."

"We?? Don't you mean me or you?" Mikey corrects.

Michelangelo leans on the table, hands folding into one another as he studies Mikey's face.

"See, that's exactly what I want to focus on. Why do you assume that you'll be leaving? Or me?"

"W-well...." Mikey swallows as he glances about the room, avoiding the double's gaze. "I don't know. I thought maybe... we weren't the same."

"Just because we look different?" Michelangelo asks.

"We act different, too," Mikey sighs. "You can't climb walls. You don't have a voice in your head telling you to hurt people. You don't have my scars."

"And that's what makes us different?"

Mikey stares at him in confusion at the audacity of a statement.

"Doesn't it?"

"Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't," Michelangelo shrugs. "But just because you went through something doesn't mean you aren't the same person you were before. I might not be you, but I'm still a part of you."

"I... I don't understand...?"

Michelangelo points down to where the children play.

"Look at him. Is he the same as us? No. But he is us, regardless. He will always be a part of us, no matter what. We carry him along, and sometimes he comes out and sometimes he shys away. But he's there all the same."

Michelangelo smiles.

"Just like I will always be there, too!"

Mikey finally meets his eyes. He swallows. Michelangelo reaches out and takes his hand.

"I know it's been hard for you to feel accepted after everything, and you've been fighting to find your place. But it was always there! Yes, you changed, and that's fine, that's even healthy. If you didn't change after something like that experience, then we should be a little concerned. But don't think that just because you changed that you aren't still yourself. I would've thought you'd have figured that out by now!"

"So... you're saying that you're still a part of me?"

"I've always been here, dude!" Michelangelo smiles.

"W-why?" Mikey asks, tail flicking nervously under the table. "D-don't you...."

"Don't I what?"

"...Hate me?"

Michelangelo laughs. Fully laughs, head thrown back cackling.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh so much -- but why would I hate you?" he asks, lifting his glasses to wipe a tear away.

"Because... well, just because!" Mikey argues. "Why wouldn't you hate me??"

"Because it was never your fault, dude!" he replies. "And you keep forgetting, we're not two different people. We're the same. I'm just some kind of subconscious representation of your inner feelings or something."

"Huh?"

"Oh, never mind, you'll figure it out eventually."

"But you should hate me!" Mikey protests. "I-I replaced you, I-I ruined you, I--"

"Do you think he hates us because we grew up and changed?" Michelangelo asks, tilting his head to gesture to the tot version of themselves.

Mikey is taken aback, stuttering and stammering at the suggestion.

"I-I... I don't know, I--"

"Do you think that Donnie and Raph and Leo hated us when our powers evolved and changed?"

"That's not the same!" Mikey argues.

"But do you think Casey hated his Sensei when he lost his arm?"

Mikey pauses.

"Or do you think he hates us because we're the younger versions of the people he knew from the future?" Michelangelo continues.

"...I.... I don't... he kept talking about them, he misses them so much..."

"But he doesn't hate us or resent us. Or our brothers," Michelangelo explains. "Love doesn't give up when something changes. As we grow, it grows. As we change and evolve, so does love. And when we love someone, we don't simply forget who they were, or give up loving that part of them after they grow past it. We still love that part and hold it in our memory, and the love doubles. They will love every part of you, even after you've changed. Because people change, dude."

Mikey sighs.

"All this time I thought that they'd hate me because of how different I was..."

"...But I think the only person who really felt that way that might've been you," Michelangelo replies, taking Mikey's hand again. "Don't hate yourself over something you had no control over. You were hurt, and you healed. Might not have happened the way you wanted, and maybe you'll never be the same again, but you're still you and you can let yourself grow from there."

"So... you're really not mad at me?"

"No."

"Not even for... what I'd decided to do?"

"Oh, you mean about the cure?" Michelangelo asks with a smile. He waves his hand at Mikey and leans back nonchalantly. "Nah, I'm not mad."

"Would it have been the right choice?" Mikey asks. "To stay like this, and not undo the mutations? Or would it have been a mistake?"

"Well, firstly, I don't know if there was a wrong answer to that choice," Michelangelo thinks aloud. "If you'd have chosen to go back to how you were before, you'd still have all the memories of what you'd been through, and you'd have to go through learning how to live without the mutations and all the stuff you'd just gotten used to. Probably get war-like flashbacks every once in a while. And not to mention how painful it would have been, too. So it wouldn't have been easy. And the choice you made, to stay the way you are now, that's not wrong either. But it also won't be easy. Secondly, why are you talking in the past tense hypotheticals?"

Mikey blinks.

"Because.... because I'm dead, aren't I?"

For the second time, Michelangelo starts cackling.

"You're not dead!" he laughs.

"I...I'm not?"

"Nah, fool!" Michelangelo says, giggling as he claps Mikey on the back. "What made you think you were?"

"Well then what the heck is all of this?" Mikey yells in confusion. "What the heck was all of that whole paradise I just went through with all those Hamato people??"

"Oh, that," Mikey sighs, calming down. "Okay, maaaaybe you were kinda dead. Technically, your heart did stop and you weren't here on earth anymore, but that was only for maybe a minute or so. Not too long, no lasting damage. I think the ancestors just wanted to make sure you got home okay. They knew it wasn't your time yet."

Mikey swallows, feeling just a tad bit dizzy from the realization. And tired.

"Then... then what is this? A dream?"

"Call it a long overdue conversation with yourself," Michelangelo says with a wink. "A reflection inward, if you will. And I do. Dr. Feelings and Dr. Delicate Touch have been out on sabbatical for a while, and this felt like the perfect opportunity to dust off our truthful therapy skills!"

"Yeah, sorry about that," Mikey yawns. "I've been a little busy..."

"Hey, don't worry, I get it!" Michelangelo says with a wave of his hand.

"But... maybe it's time for them to come back?" Mikey offers. "Start accepting the truth and really healing..."

Michelangelo slowly takes the glasses off, rubbing his thumb over the lenses.

"Yeah. I think so, too," he says as he hands the specs to Mikey.

"So... would this be like, you giving me your blessing or something? Saying I'm the superior Mikey or something?" Mikey asks.

"It's a dream, dude," Michelangelo says flatly. "Not everything is completely meaningful. It's your subconscious."

"Right, right..." Mikey yawns. "So, if I'm not dead, then where am I?"

The Dream Michelangelo leans back, putting his feet up on the table and folding his hands behind his head as he stares off into space.

"Oh, right about now I'd say that your at home in the medbay, sleeping it off. I think you've been there for at least 20 hours now. You should probably wake up soon..."

"Yeah, I guess so..." Mikey sighs, a deep and heavy exhale escaping his lungs. "But... Just to be clear... you're really not mad at me? You're not mad that I decided to stay the monster?"

"You're not a monster, man!" Mikey cackles. "You're a teenage mutant ninja turtle!"

Mikey chuckles.

"Yeah. I'll work on that. But, y'know, the weird thing is," Mikey says, tapping his fingers against the table. "I'm actually kinda... thirsty?"

.

.

.

"What did you just say??"

Mikey has no idea why everything went so pitch black and then blinding white. He was just talking to himself, and as soon as he mentioned feeling thirsty... the whole world went away.

He tries opening his eyes. They're so extremely heavy, and as soon as he attempts it, light instantly cracks in his vision, seeping through his eyelids and causing red to pierce his sight. He fights through the pain, groaning softly as he does.

Once he opens his eyes, Mikey sees that he's in the gurney from the medbay at the lair. He can't really feel his body, which is weird. He lifts his arm. That works. He can't feel it, it's numb and weird, but it's there. He thinks his hand is disconnected from the joint since he can't feel it either, and it looks really floppy. But after he shakes it and manages to get the fingers to curl and uncurl, he finds that everything is okay after all. He flops the hand around again, snickering at the sight and sensation. A large, gruff but gentle hand takes his to make it stop. Aww, booooo...

He notices a tube and needle stuck in the center of his hand, pumping some sort of clear fluid into it very slowly. He follows the tube and sees it connects to a bag of the same clear fluid. Beside that bag is the owner of the hand, staring down at Mikey with wide and red-rimmed eyes hidden beyond a red mask.

"Mikey, what did you just say?" Raphael asks again, voice soft and airy, hanging on every potential word Mikey has to offer.

Mikey smacks his lips, which are awfully dry and chapped, and have just the tiniest remnants of crusted blood in the corners. He tries to find his tongue, which seems to be missing. Well, no, it's not, it's thick and it's right there, but he can't get it to wake up just yet. Funny, he could talk so easily a moment ago, why is it so hard now? He manages to get the lazy good-for-nothing muscle moving...

"...Th'rsty," Mikey croaks.

Raph practically knocks the IV pole and bag over in his desperate attempt to hug Mikey, almost flattening him against the mattress. He sobs almost uncontrollably, confusing an already out-of-sorts Mikey.

"GUYS! MIKEY'S AWAKE!!" He yells rather loudly, causing Mikey to flinch away from him.

He's not sure why Raph would say that, Mikey feels like he's still asleep, or will fall asleep again at any second again.

Leo and Donnie seem to materialize in the doorway just as the words leave Raphael's mouth, eyes wide and mouths open. As soon as they arrive, any thought of falling back asleep leaves Mikey. They fling themselves onto the gurney, sobbing hysterically and laughing profusely.

Casey and Splinter run in just a moment later, joining the fray and asking a hundred questions that Mikey has no idea of answering.

He still can't get his silly tongue to do anything for him.

Raph eventually remembers that Mikey wanted something to drink and gives him a glass of water, helping him to sip it. Or rather, to drool and dribble half of the contents down his chin as the rest barely manage to enter his mouth.

Mikey stares down blankly at the water running from his face.

"...Spilled it," is all he can manage to say.

The room erupts into laughter.

"...Where..." Mikey croaks, breath slow and relaxed from the heavy painkillers, "...Where am I?"

"You're home, Mikey!" Leo says, making it sound more like a congratulations than an explanation. "You're home!"

And for the first time, Mikey truly feels like he finally has come home.

Prev || Next

[woodsfae]

How do I describe the awe and joy of exercise not hurting after a lifetime of chronic pain? And not even painless exercise, really, but only reduced pain, and still the relief itself is euphoric.

My partner and I were out at the ranch where his rescue horse is boarded, and we arrived right before they were about to drive the entire herd across state land to a field which they were leasing for the summer. Horses generally do not like to be separated from the herd, so working with Partner's rescue horse wouldn't work if they took the herd away: he would be too agitated and eager to go join them to concentrate on training time. So we volunteered to move the herd ourselves, after we were done with our training time.

The ranch hands usually had one person ride a lead horse, another followed the herd on foot with a whip, using the punishment that fear of a waving whip is to keep them moving along when they tried to stop to graze.

My partner and I are positive reinforcement trainers, ideologically opposed to punishment in animal training, so I carried a bucket of grain and ran.

The horses followed me: why would they not? They recognize buckets of grain, and since most of them don't get a daily grain feed, it's a high-value treat for them.

Since I was a child, running triggered my asthma, and my primary asthma symptom is severe pain, wrapping around my chest and back and squeezing me like a vice. And as it turns out, after the years of physical therapy I did to rebuild my muscles after my macromastia and old back injury caused them to become unbalanced, a hit on my inhaler before exercise is enough to stave off asthma in temperate conditions.

The rumble of more than twenty horses running suffused me. The ground trembled. Some, excited, overshot me, running ahead. The ranch has Tennessee Walkers, a tall breed. Most of the horses are sixteen or more hands, which means the top of their shoulders are higher than my head. I ran, and trusted that if I was consistent in my movement and pace, they wouldn't knock into me. My partner followed more slowly, using positive reinforcement methods to encourage the stragglers to keep moving, instead of stopping to graze along the way, his own pockets full of treats.

After an entire lifetime of pain, I ran, nearly entirely pain-free, thundering along with two dozen cantering horses, each hundreds and hundreds of pounds to my slight, human frame. I ran, and it did not hurt. I ran, and the herd ran with me.

What a gift life can be.

[jeridandridge]

hi!! i'd love to request mel x reader where reader experiences chronic pain and mel supports. maybe in a series of little ways (pep talks, driving to appts, yelling at doctors) or in a sweet massage scene. can be fluffy, angsty, or smutty--wherever the spirit takes ya! thanks in advance for considering!!

Thank you so much for this request! 🩷 nothing crazy in here: doctors visit/mention of blood tests.

Wonder Woman Socks

It started the day you took the kids to the Franklin institute. You figured you were sore and exhausted from running around with the kids and sleeping on the floor. Hell, Melissa even agreed saying she was sore too. You brushed it off.

Then going up the stairs to your classroom had become too much. When you got up the staircase and into your classroom you’d have to sit at your desk for a few minutes drinking your coffee in order to be fully awake again.

Now, months later you fidget nervously with your ring while Melissa drives you to the doctor.

“It’s gonna be fine, Tesoro. They can do their tests and we can go from there.” The red head gives you a soft smile from the drivers seat. You hated this. You felt like a scared child on the way to the doctors office and your only saving grace was Melissa. The sweet woman that made you coffee every morning to keep you going, the woman that would give you a massage every night when you came home from work because standing on your feet all day had become too much.

“What if I’m dying?” You think aloud, the thought terrifying you. You were generally healthy, you worked out, ate right thanks to Melissa’s cooking, and you definitely hydrated throughout the day.

“You’re not dying.” Melissa says firmly with a shake of her head. “There’s something makin you tired, that’s all it is.”

You don’t hear any fear or fake bravado in her voice. She means what she’s saying and you hope she’s right. When you get called into the office you give Melissa a look as you stand up that leaves no room for her to question if she should come back with you or not.

In the room after the nurse takes your vitals you’re left to change into one of the scratchy paper gowns. You huff as you strip down to your underwear until a hand lands right on your ass. You look over your shoulder to see your girlfriend smirking.

“Did you- even right this second in my underwear and Wonder Woman socks you still find me attractive?” You ask, not expecting that at all.

“yeah. You’re tired, it doesn’t mean you look bad.” She chuckles.

You shake your head with an adoring smile as you pull on the paper gown. When you sit back on the table the doctor knocks on the door coming in.

“Hello, hello,” he nods to you both. “y/n, how are you?”

“Tired,” you chuckle, “how are you?”

“I see that in my notes here,” he says flipping through the paperwork you filled out. “What sort of tiredness do you feel when this happens?”

“I feel like I got hit by a truck. Some days are better than others, but even at work just going up stairs is difficult.” You explain.

The doctor nods and makes notes and washing his hands. “Alright, well we’re gonna do a few tests with blood samples, then we’ll see if we have to do anything from there but with what you’re describing it sounds like chronic fatigue syndrome. It’s much more common in women.” He explains.

You let out a sigh of relief reaching for Melissa’s hand. “Take all the blood you need, I just wanna feel better.”

Putting the stethoscope in his ears he places it on your back. “Deep breath in for me.”

You do this a few times, looking at him nervously when he puts the instrument back around hie neck.

“Everything sounds good, We’ll run these tests then depending on the results we’ll figure out a treatment plan that’ll consist of most likely an anti depressant. If you keep exercising and being healthy and your partner here supports you,” he gestures to Melissa, “this should be under control within two months I’d say.” He smiles. “I’ll leave you to get dressed, the nurse will be in for the blood samples shortly.”

When the older man leaves you squeeze Melissa’s hand pulling her out of the chair in the corner to you.

“See?” She smiles handing you your tshirt and jeans. “I thought the guy was gonna be more difficult than that.”

“When Janine recommended this place I expected nothing less.” You chuckle getting dressed.

You squeeze Melissa’s hand when the nurse draws your blood and a few minutes later you’re walking out to the car.

“I feel a bit better mentally now.” You tell her.

“Now that we have an idea what it is I can look up recipes and other natural things that’ll help.” She smiles.

Getting in the passenger seat you smile at your girlfriend adoringly.

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“Yeah I’m pretty great.” She agrees jokingly. “I like taking care of you when you need me.”

“When we get home I require an afternoon on the couch doing absolutely nothing.” You tell her.

Melissa chuckles reaching over for your hand bringing the back of it to her lips. “I can make that happen.”

[actuallyimspiderman]

soothing the pain~

alrightyyy this is my very first story that i thought of while i was literally just watching atsv edits🧍🏾‍♀️ its abt the reader having a little bit of period pains:( and our lovely bf hobie wants to help soothe us just a lil🤏🏾🤭 hope you enjoy babes（╹◡╹）♡

warnings: fem readerxhobie, implication! of period sex, just some fluff and a little teeny weeny bit of smutty at the end

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it was a couple hours after you got your results for your final test for the week at uni and you were more than excited to show hobie how great you did. althoughhh there was something kinda killin your vibe. " 'bieeeee, hurts s'much" you said while tugging on his arm so he could face you from the edge of your shared bed. "and wha exactly "hurts s'much" lovey?" he respond grabbing your hand that was tugging on him. you look at him and pout slightly, "well what do you thinkkk? i've been studying and working so hard all week that i've barely been able to use my heating pad, take any kind of pain killers, or buy an unhealthy amount of snacks." hobie smiles slightly down at you, "awww my poor babydoll" he says a little mockingly. you sit up straight, "i'm being serious, i was so excited to tell you how good i've been doing but this killing my mood fr." hobie pulls you into his lap, "i know i know, im sorry alrigh? wasn't makin fun of ya, just tryna raise your spirits a lil bit duck. i'm proud of ya, yk that righ?" you simply nod still holding your stomach in attempts to make it feel better...it wasnt doing any good. "alright lets see-" he grabs his phone keeping one hand on your back, " 'things to make cramps go away' hmm... we've got chocolat, exercise, heatin pad ofc, advil and ..." he stops before he can finish the list. "well? what's the last thing hobes?" you say trying to peek at his phone. he whips it away before you can see it. "anddd..." "anddddd...???", you question as he moves closer towards your ear whispering, "sex." you immediately place your hand on his shoulders and yank him back "h-huh?? sex...are you making that up hobie brown?" he shakes his head kissing one of your hands resting on him. "well...-" you rest him on his back "i can get chocolate from the store-" you end of each thing off the list with a kiss somewhere on him "i can go to the gym for exercise but do i really feel like it? no. (a kiss on his neck) my heating pad is in the closet, (a kiss on his ear), and the advil is in the bathroom (a kiss on his cheek)." you straddle hobie's hips, "but where in the world could i get the last thing from, hobie? got any references?~" hobie sits up and adjusts you on his lap, "yea i've got one love, and based on one of 'is...very consistent clients, he works pretty well babe" he says as his eyebrow is raised and has found a new home for his hands (on you ofc). you lean in close to him so that your noses are touching, "i'll be the judge of that one~" "yeah? then be sureee to give me 5 stars babe" he's already began to lift your shirt with one hand while unbuckling his belt with the other. "then be sureee to satisfy me~"

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hobie stays on my mind 24/7 i swear. i need him irllll😫. buttttt i hope you enjoyed!! feel free to give feedback so i can improveee, love ya!

[gloryundimmed]

Kai & His Physique.

General Physique

Kai is not built but toned. His actual physique tends to vary by verse, but in his normal modern verses, he’s not crazy ripped, more athletic. Pair that with the fact that he’s often underweight from lack of proper nutrition/consistent meals, and he isn’t the world’s strongest or most muscular man by any means. Given the proper nutrition, it becomes easier for him to gain muscle, but this generally doesn’t happen unless he finds a partner/ally who doesn’t mind cooking for him instead of his constant microwave meals and takeout.

His specific body type is an inverted triangle mesomorph, which means he’s naturally muscular and lean with a moderate frame, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist. He has a fast metabolism, low body fat, and finds it easy to build and maintain muscle. His broad shoulders and above-average height (6’) can give him an imposing look despite being underweight.

Training Regimen

As a hitman, Kai trains quite a bit, and that can take many different forms. He has to keep himself physically fit or face possible death, so he tries to keep on top of it with a training regimen. Sometimes, he’ll go to the gym for strength or endurance training (lifting weights, running on the treadmill, etc.) but does what he can at home, as he finds the gym dull. His at-home sessions usually include pushups, planks, sit-ups, crunches— whatever type of exercises don’t require a machine or specialized equipment. He’s best at strength training because endurance training often leaves him winded from all the cigarettes he smokes.

Although his sessions are important, he doesn’t spend a ton of time training his physical body because he’d much rather be using it in the field. Whether that be in random street scraps or human-shaped obstacles in the way of him completing his hit, he loves to fight— he loves the adrenaline, the pain, the rush of dopamine he gets when his opponent staggers if he lands a good hit. This will always be his favorite type of training, but won’t always produce the best results in terms of physical gain.

In Combat

He’s stronger than the average person, but his fighting style employs dexterity, speed, and agility much more than it does brute force. His skillful yet reckless tactics and utter lack of self preservation make him a difficult foe in hand-to-hand combat, though his true talent lies in ranged combat.

Kai has excellent eyesight and almost inhuman accuracy/aim, which is why his weapon of choice for an important hit is a sniper if the client doesn’t want him to brutally murder the target and make them wish they were never born (which is what he’s best known for).

[pom-seedss]

I can do all of my physio exercises without getting the hots! Mostly. A couple of like.... what feel to be "close calls" happen when I feel my temperature rising, but I fix my posture and it goes away in a few minutes.

I am not up to doing much else in a day, but I can do the full list of physio exercises every day!

But I can change Pebble's papers, food and water myself every day! I can scoop the cat litter a couple days a week! That's more than I could do a couple weeks ago, even if they feel small and simple and rote.

I am closer to feeling normal than I have since August! My left side, neck and shoulder are still extremely tight and often refuse to ease up, but like I said, they aren't causing as much of the hot symptoms as they were before. My right leg still has a tingly-numbish sensation along the side of the thigh too and a persistent click in my hip when I do my exercises... but I just started being able to do the leg exercises consistently so maybe that will start easing soon.

But holy fuck the pain is still really bad, I'd also forgotten how bad it was before the hot/cold/gallbladder blow out in August, but Bean reminded me that I was already trending downward in ability and upwards in pain before that point. SO technically, I am much closer to being my 'normal' even if my normal had been sucking hard prior to that and I'd just been so boiled-froggish about it I didn't notice how bad it had gotten.

Average daily pain is about a 5-6, spikes of pain usually stop around 8, but I have had a few 10ers in the mix (ahem hence the weird...update/poem on pain from the other week).

I am still extremely hesitant to try to start up old activities, including art, or typing a lot, because I don't want to relax into old habits (shrimping, over extending shoulder, over doing activity, etc) that got me to the place of blow-out to begin with.

I hope this isn't where I end up plateauing.... because it is still awful and depressing as fuck to be where I am....but I do have to say I am miles better than I was even a couple of weeks ago.

This has been your Pom-health-update. <3 Stay frosty friends.

[spenjelly]

Joint pain tips from someone “too young to have chronic pain”:

[I’m not a doc or a medical professional, take with a grain of salt]

- NSAIDs like ibuprofen/aleve are hard on the stomach and liver. If u take it consistently, consider lidocaine pain patches, tiger balm, or topical NSAIDs. (Still bad for liver with consistent use, but not on the stomach obv)

-foam rollers are real nice for thigh or back/neck pain. If you need it for shoulder stretching, make sure to get one long enough to lay ur whole spine and head on.

-rly good shoe inserts are stupid expensive but getting properly sized for one at a place like REI can rly save you a lot of foot, ankle, and knee pain.

-speaking of shoes plz find ones that have enough room for the tootsies. We’re talking abt bone health here.

-you can use KT or other athletic tape to give minor support, compression for medium, and splints/braces for more serious support. Don’t let braces take over keeping ur body in shape tho.

-in my experience, tube/sock-like braces stay in place the best. I’ve tried the kind that Velcro and they slipped constantly.

-if u overwork a tendon, muscle, or joint, it can take a lot longer for it to heal then when it just stops hurting. Be careful to reintegrate activities slowly after an injury.

-while it kinda makes ya feel silly, walking “like a robot” can help hypermobile/ligament laxity folks to keep proper motion in mind

-upside down criss-cross and w-sitting are horrendous for your knees and make your PTs sad

-if you are doing arm exercises, try not to extend your arms back beyond the line of your shoulder

-to my ND folks: try to rest your arms sometimes, Trex arms are comfy but bad for circulation and joints

-if it feels like your eyes are trying to burst outta ur skull sometimes it means you need to lower inflammation in your sinus.

-for my bra-wearing folks: racer-backed bras hurt the upper traps less and distribute weight better

-drink water my dudes. Ur body hates life w/o it