#knee rehab center

[oneforthemunny]

YAY MY FIRST TIME DOING THIS GAME!!!

Rockstar!eddie, rehab, angst (because I have been think of this concept all day)

starting the day off strong with some angst! tw bc it does mention drug abuse and some darker kinda themes.

"Eddie Munson," Eddie looked up from the guitar he'd been strumming towards the nurse- no, the holistic helper at the door. They didn't use words like that here, not at this rehab.

"You have a visitor here." She nodded, giving a soft smile.

Eddie set the guitar down, tucking the pick back between the strings, following the woman down the long hallway of the center. The music room was where he spent most of his time these days. He'd tried hiking and the spa once he'd finished detox, but always came back there- his own oasis in his own personal hell.

"We're going to go back to your room for this meeting, if that's alright with you, Eddie." The nurse smiled gently.

"Fine with me." Eddie grumbled, his shoulders feeling heavier and heavier with each passing step.

Ninety days, it's what he agreed to. He felt better after twenty, but he'd finish it out- for you, for your girls, his family that he'd fucked selfishly. His stomach turned at the thought.

"And, there's no limit on this visit today." The nurse stopped before she opened the door. "So no need to feel pressured to rush."

Eddie's brows furrowed. It was Gareth, maybe Jeff, he knew it was. They were the only ones who came to visit him anyways. Still, he grumbled in response, turning the knob to his room. It was nice, a private suite that felt more like a hotel room than the prison cell it'd become.

"Hey, man, didn't know you were coming by today. I've been working on some stuf-" Eddie's breath hitched, falling flat in the air when he turned.

It felt nearly like a mirage, like he might have been dreaming, hallucinating that you were here. Here, on his bed, sitting too rigidly to be comfortable, arms wrapped around yourself.

"Working on stuff?" You hummed, eyes barely meeting his and he didn't miss the way you swallowed. "What kind of stuff?"

"Y-You're here?" Eddie croaked, shutting the door with a harsh snap. "Wha-What are you doin' here, baby?" Every bit of his being screamed to hug you, hands tingling and twitching- itching to feel you, to hold you.

You shifted uncomfortably, finger running over your ring finger out of habit. Eddie nearly threw up when he saw you'd gone without your ring, he wondered how long ago you'd stopped wearing it.

"Um, Gareth came by the other day to see the girls." Your eyes cut to Eddie at the mention of them, how his face nearly crumbled at the thought. "He told me you'd been doing much better. Told me you were scared straight."

"Yeah." Eddie nodded. He was frozen, unable to move, so he stood in the doorway. "I am. I-I..." There was a million things Eddie wanted to say. He wanted to drop to his knees, beg for your forgiveness, for mercy, for anything.

"He," Your voice cracked, turning your head politely to the side to compose yourself. So prim and proper, Eddie's heart leapt at the action- he'd missed it so fucking much.

"He also brought me your letter." Your lip wobbled at the mention, pressing them tightly together to keep yourself from bursting into tears. Ten pages, front to back, with scribbling, tear soaked, inked ramblings about his feelings- poured his heart out onto those pages. Everything he'd ever wanted to say in his entire life, there on those pages, his whole bleeding heart.

"He did." Eddie sounded relieved, shoulders slumping, rounding with the weight of everything he'd kept in for so long.

You nodded slowly, watching him carefully from your own perch. "The girls made you some things." Your voice shook with your hands when you reached in your bag, piles of drawing and scribbles they'd made for Eddie.

Eddie looked at the colorful papers, just a glimpse in your hand, choking on a sob that was tearing mercilessly through his chest. "I, um, I didn't bring them today." You barely met Eddie's eyes, hand smoothing over the construction paper. "I didn't think you'd want them to see you like this."

"No," Eddie shook his head, tears falling down his stubbled cheeks. "No, I-I don't. Thank you."

The air was thick between the two of you, an unsure uncomfortable feeling that left you both on ease. Eddie finally sobbed when your hand brushed his, passing the drawings to him.

"I'm-I'm so sorry." Eddie broke, teeth gritted, trying to swallow back his own cries, hand holding yours tightly. "I don't-I don't know why I-I fucking did that. Why I did it to you, a-and to the girls, and fuck- I don't know why-" Eddie's sobs choked his words.

You knew you shouldn't have, that you should have stood strong, colder and meaner. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but you couldn't- not when your own heart was shattering all over again. So you held him, arms wrapped around his torso, body moving towards his in that familiar way. Your puzzle piece, you two fit so well. His arms hugging you tightly, nearly crushing you into his chest like he wanted you to fuse to him. Eddie's face pressed to your head, wetting your scalp with his tears, nose rubbing into your skin babbling apologies over and over again, promises that he would keep, that you hoped he would.

[thedickgraysons]

i dont have all of the words for it right now but there's something so gross about the way sjm chose to handle tamlin's trauma and his responses to being triggered post acotar. and it's not the fact that she writes it at all, but the way the narrative beats you over the head with the fact that tamlin was Wrong for being harassed by amarantha and not giving her what she wanted, Wrong for being affected by it, and then he was Wrong for not pushing feyre's clear boundaries (her insistence to not speak about what happen UTM) when that is a trigger for the both of them.

tamlin's not sleeping in the bed as a beast as he is also incredibly traumatized after being utm, its framed as him being possessive. he doesn't insist feyre keep her powers secret and not come with him to hunt beasts because he had just watched her die, its because he's controlling. there's no addressing of how feyre was using him sexually as much as he was indulging in her, because the fact of the matter is they were on a path of mutual self-destruction.

then there is his and nesta's fandom and canon vilification and over-criticism because their responses to their trauma are "ugly." the lack of empathy their characters in particular draw. the narrative (rhysand's) insistence that nesta needs to get on her knees and spend the foreseeable future Atoning while tamlin can never make up for his actions.

the justification of the ic forcing themselves onto nesta. the fandom insistence that its rehab when they need to assert control over her, but she can leave at any time when someone points out that rehab centers dont let the therapists sleep with their patients. the gross fandom theory about amarantha being tamlin's mate and how he went "crazy" after the mountain because of it.

all of it reeks of both the 'perfect victim' theory and victim blaming

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 20

Damn guys, wow! Twenty chapters in. Shit. Wow. We've only got five chapters to go.

Hey, remember that breakdown that Steve feared was coming? Yeah it's in this chapter. Just not the person anyone thought it would be. Also Steve learns to lean on the people who love him.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

~

Steve was nervous. He was rarely nervous on stage, but this was special. Eddie had written a duet version of one Corroded Coffin’s songs and Abbadon was going to feature. So when The Fallen left and Corroded Coffin came on, the first song would be the new duet.

Apparently Gareth had been badgering Eddie to include it in the set list since before the whole rehab stint. But that was around the time Steve and he got together and felt it was too close to the mark to sing it on stage like that.

But somehow the three other members had convinced him and Eddie in turn had managed to convince The Fallen, both bands managers, and their tech guys to let them do it in Denver.

The Fallen finished their encore and they huddled together as Corroded Coffin’s equipment was set up.

Then it was time, with all the lights off Abbadon went to stand in the middle of the stage, directly in front Gareth’s stage where his kit was. The spotlights came on, first highlighting Gareth, then Brian, Jeff, and then Eddie.

Abbadon stood in the darkness, microphone in hand, head hung between his shoulders.

This was the moment. The moment Steve had spent his whole adult life dreaming about. On stage with Corroded Coffin to sing with Eddie. His only regret that it was as Abbadon and not himself. But damn, he’d be fool to turn down the opportunity and he knew it.

Eddie started in on guitar; the sweet, slow build up of one of their greatest hits. “Run, Lover Boy, Run.”

But when the first verse started it wasn’t the gravelly growl of Eddie Munson, but the haunting tenor of Abbadon.

“When I see you there,

Standing with your friends,

I have to stop and stare,

Because, baby I know how this ends...”

Finally Abbadon was lit by a pale blue light, making the white of his costume seem ghost like and eerie. He raised his head and the lace mask made him even more beautiful. He walked toward the front of the stage slowly as he joined Eddie front and center.

To say the crowd went wild would have been an understatement. The Fallen fans were freaking out and screaming and crying. The Corroded Coffin fans roared their approval as Abbadon’s voice lent the song a melancholy vibe.

Eddie sang the second verse and then they joined in together for the chorus. Abbadon leaned in close, their spotlights blending together.

“Run, Lover Boy, Run,

Don’t you know,

You were only a little bit of fun

Run, Lover Boy, Run

You were looking for love,

Can’t you see we’re done?”

Abbadon knew he should have moved back for the next verse, but somehow he found himself draped over Eddie. Even though the song was about being used by a guy he thought he could trust but was only looking for a hookup and not something more serious. He just couldn't move away.

Eddie had a white knuckle grip on his guitar, playing his hardest and singing about heartbreak. Abbadon’s microphone was at his side as he shared Eddie’s. He had even turned it off to avoid feedback.

They were so close that any closer they would have been making out over the microphone. But the thing that really tipped things over the edge was when the final verse came, Abbadon sunk to his knees and belted it out. So from a certain perspective it looked as though he was grinding against Eddie leg.

The crowd went absolutely feral. There was screaming, crying, and apparently in two extreme cases, fainting.

He wasn’t.

Steve wanted to make that clear. He wasn’t grinding against Eddie’s leg. To both their management and the media. Because, yeah he saw the video the fans uploaded and it was very suspect, but his other fans had his back. They posted the view from the other side of the stadium where he was just a few feet away from the lead singer, on his knees, his free hand clenched in a fist.

But oh boy did fuel rumors about Abbadon and Eddie in ways that made Steve’s skin crawl. It was a good thing they had two days before they got to Vegas for Steve to hide in their trailer.

“Steve!” Robin as Robin called out, banging on the door. “Come on, Steve, you can’t hide in there forever!”

Eddie had tried. Chrissy had tried. Hell, even Vickie gave it a go. But Steve refused to budge. Shane let out a sigh after Simon and Spence were both sent away as well.

“Let me try,” he said softly.

They all cleared out to let Shane have a go. He sat down on the steps to the trailer and leaned his head against the door.

“Hey, Steve,” he muttered. “You don’t have to come out, but I’m gonna start talking and maybe you’ll decide to do that on your own.”

He was met with silence. Which was already a step up from the shouts to go away. So he started talking.

“I worry about us as friends, all of us,” he said, strained. “Simon keeps turning down women who are generally into him because he thinks they’re only into him because of what we do. But there have been some real good ones. One that wanted to get to know him, but he just shuts them down. I worry about his attachment to you. I know he’s straight. I’ve hit on him before... before you I guess. Back when we were just some idiots in a cafe who didn’t know what life was.”

He let out a watery chuckle. “But I’ve also seen girls flirt with him as a roadie and he still thinks it’s because of what he does rather than wanting him for he who is. He’s a good guy. He’s one of the best. But he doesn’t seem to want to be better.”

Shane looked up at the clear blue sky and let out a shuddering breath. He hung his head.

“Spence doesn’t want to go out anymore,” he continued, his voice quaking with the feeling of loss. “All he wants to do is spend all his time talking to Nadia. The only time he goes out is as someone else and that can’t be healthy either.”

He ran his fingers through his tight red curls, gripping them at the base and pulling. His hands shook with the effort and the emotions.

“I just came out as gay and I’m frightened by it all,” Shane said. “My parents are supportive. Because of course they are. But I can tell the difference in people from the way they used to look at me and how they look at me now. I was going to teach middle school, Steve. I was going to teach world history to teenagers. But this changed everything.”

There was a soft thud behind him and he figured it was Steve sitting on the floor in front of the door.

“But of all us,” he whispered through his tears, “I worry about you the most. You think you have to be strong for everyone else. You came out with me and I’m getting more support than you are. Yeah, you have a good support system. I wouldn’t have allowed you to come out otherwise, twin. But this moment that blew up in your face, shouldn’t have.”

He lifted his head up and let the tears continue to stream down his face. “It should have been a moment of pure joy and it turned into an embarrassment. You’ll forever look back at the first time you sang with shame. And you shouldn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were incandescent. You lit up that stage and it was beautiful.”

The door to the trailer opened a crack and instantly Shane was on his feet. He opened the door all the way and slipped inside, closing it tightly behind him. Sitting in the dark on the floor not far from the door was a very disheveled Steve. It looked like he hadn’t slept in awhile. They all traveled together, but Steve had taken to locking people out until it was time to get on the road again.

“Hey, twin,” Shane muttered as he moved to sit next to him on the floor.

Steve snorted. They looked nothing alike but by some twist of fate they had been born on the same day, year and all. Steve was older by like seven hours. So Shane had taken to calling him twin when no one else was around.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I hate making people worry about me.”

Shane bumped their shoulders together. “Well that’s too damn bad, Steve. Because you don’t get to make that choice for other people.”

Steve out a shuddering breath. “It’s not even the fallout of people thinking I was grinding against him that bothers me the most.”

“Yeah?” Shane asked with a huff. “What is?”

“That I wanted to.” Steve buried his head in his hands. “I wanted to touch him, kiss him, hell even fuck him on that stage. But I knew that if I wavered for even a fucking second the backlash would be, oh so much worse.”

Shane looked at him for a moment. “No it wouldn’t.” Steve’s head whipped around to face him. “Steve...you hang off me and Simon all the time. You flirt with the audience. All the photo shoots of you are in sexy poses. Shit, man. You wouldn’t be doing anything different than a half a dozen heterosexual bands have done on stage.”

Steve thought about it for a moment. And Shane was right. A famous rockstar humped a massive blown up dick on stage and no one thought twice about that. At least none that weren’t going to be pearl clutching about it in the first place.

“Oh,” he whispered. “Fuck.”

“I think you should play up into more if I’m honest,” Shane huffed. “You’re out as bisexual. Play into the stereotype of being a slut. The people who know you, know you’re with Eddie and monogamous, but those people,” he pointed out of the trailer, “the ones that don’t matter? Soak up all that attention and feed on it.”

Steve’s eyes lit up and a slow smile spread out over his face. Pictures started forming in his head. He thought about how his persona was already the opposite of him in real life. He thought about the thrill he got when he saw the photos of him online from the angle that made it look risque. He thought about how he wanted to play up into flirting with Eddie on stage.

“Can you get the rest of the band in here with Robin and Eddie and Vickie if you can get her too?”

Shane’s answering grin was all he needed to know. Shane got to his feet and within minutes everyone was huddled together in the trailer and Steve explained his idea.

Vickie smiled wickedly. “I think it’s a brilliant idea and if Eddie’s on board with it I’d be happy to lean into that.”

Eddie sat back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I think what might make it easier so people don’t focus on me is if I get the rest of the Corroded Coffin boys in on it too. That way if Steve as Abbadon is seen flirting with the whole band it’ll come off as being a flirt and not that there’s something specific between Abbadon and I.”

“I like that,” Simon agreed. “Abbadon is already all over Astraeus and Asmodeus so flirting with Jeff and Brian as well as Eddie that would play up into the slut allegations.”

Steve laughed and then shared a knowing smile with Robin. Yep. Simon might be shy about most things but when it came to Steve... that was a whole other kettle of fish.

“We’ll do another duet tonight,” Eddie said, nodding. “Have Abbadon start Gareth’s lap or something.”

“I’m glad you’re doing better,” Spence said, “but don’t lock us out next time. You’re there for us. It’s time you let us be there for you. Okay?”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath. “Yeah, okay.”

They all came up and gave Steve huge hugs before they piled out of the trailer again, leaving behind Shane and Eddie.

“Thanks for getting him to come out of his shell,” Eddie said to Shane. “I didn’t know what to say because it’s always been apart of my contract that I was out and loud.” He stood up and gave Steve a sweet kiss on the mouth before he, too, went back outside.

“You going to be okay, Steve?” Shane asked, moving to sit next to him on the sofa. Well futon technically, but semantics.

Steve looked up at his friend. “I worry about you, too.” Shane let out a an aborted laugh. “I know you’re frightened of being out, but I know you’ve been coming back from partying all hours of the night and sometimes day. Spence and Simon sleep like fucking logs and snore just like sawing them. But I hear you.”

Shane buried his head in his hands for a moment before running his fingers down his face. “I’ll tell you what, twin. I’ll cut back on the partying, if accept our help. And not just some of the time. Come to us for help and I’ll keep the partying to a minimum.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “Just take Spence out with you and we’ll call it a deal.”

He reached out his hand and shook it. “Deal.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

Part 21

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[wileys-russo]

Leah blurb of rehab for her injury and just being so proud of her

step by step II l.williamson

you were the first one to your feet when your girlfriend went down on the pitch against manchester united, knowing her like the back of your hand you immediately knew she wasn't alright the minute her body hit the grass and she didn't get back up.

"they need to get her off." you muttered to lotte beside you, the two of you hovering by the side lines as play was paused and the arsenal medics ran on to assess leah. "hey she's in good hands, you don't want a yellow do you?" lotte grabbed at the back of your substitute bib and tugged you back to her side as you attempted to sprint on after them, raising an eyebrow when you didn't reply.

"no." you sighed quietly, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning your head on her shoulder as the defender soothingly rubbed your back, the two of you the same age you'd been close for years, having played for the young lionesses together in your youth.

but your body tensed right back into action as the medics helped leah to her feet, watching on as your girlfriend slung her arms over their shoulders and hobbled off with a grimace of pain, your heart aching for her knowing how much she'd already struggled physically and mentally these last few months.

"she didn't need a stretcher, that's a good sign yeah?" lotte murmured as you nodded, quick to leave the girl behind and rush over to your girlfriend once she was off the pitch. "i'm fine." leah saw you fly over before you'd even arrived, holding up a hand to silence your questions with another grimace she paused, arms still slung over the medics either side of her.

"let me get my stuff i'll-" you started, reaching out for her but the older blonde shook her head. "no you won't, you'll stay here." your girlfriend ordered firmly, watching as your face fell but her attention was too centered around the burning pain in her knee to console you.

"stay, the team needs you more than i will." leah tried to reword her statement though somehow it just came off more blunt but you nodded regardless, taking a step back and allowing her to continue past you and into the tunnel, medics chatting to her quietly about the next steps of her assessment.

it turned out your team did not need you, losing 1-0 without either you or lotte playing a single minute on the pitch. barely listening to jonas as he gave the post match speech you exchanged quick words of encouragement with your team mates, passing around hugs and pats on the back at their performance.

gathering your things together on the sub bench a hand came to rest on your shoulder making you jump a little. "hey, you alright?" alessia asked softly, stood before you as you nodded, tucking your water bottle under your arm. "you played fantastically, even if it meant we lost." you straightened up and sent the girl a small smile.

"not the game, with leah going down." alessia explained pulling you into a hug as you exhaled into her shoulder, also having grown up playing alongside her as club rivals or national team mates you would always be close friends first and foremost.

"i'm trying to hope for the best and prepare for the worst." you admitted honestly, sending ella a small wave who stood off to the side contemplating if she should come over or not. "well keep us updated yeah?" alessia rubbed your back and kissed your cheek as she pulled away, ella appearing quickly by her side.

"and give her our love." the shorter of the two was next to tug you into a tight hug, the three of you exchanging a few more words before parting ways. you immediately made your way toward the medic room where unfortunately you were informed leah had been taken to hospital for further scans.

but no matter who or what you asked, no one could or would give you any further information of your girlfriends condition. kim pulled you off to the side seeing your frustrations growing, murmuring which hospital they'd taken to quietly in your ear having been kept in the loop as captain and gently shoving you out the door.

~

"leah, time to wake up baby." you whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of the blondes neck, her body tucked into yours as she stirred. "admissions at ten and i made breakfast." you continued quietly, smiling as the older girl stretched with a tired grunt, rolling over to bury her face in your neck as her arms wound tightly around your waist.

"how are you feeling?" you asked carefully, nails scratching at her scalp as her lips peppered gentle kisses to the column of your throat. "like i'm ready to not be asked that anymore." leah answered honestly, mumbling into your skin as you nodded in understanding.

the two of you had been sleeping in the guest room since your shared bedroom was upstairs, leah unable to make the trips up and down with her knee. the days since she had gone down had been tense to say the least, you felt most of the time as if you were walking on egg shells with whatever you said, always worried it would be the wrong thing and she would snap.

today had been inevitable. it was the day leah would go into surgery for her acl and you had been trying to gently remind that this was the first step forwards. but there was only so much positive talk the english captain could take before she would snap, and you had to just continually remind yourself it wasn't her talking it was the injury, and what it meant for her career.

the women's world cup, four words that had been silently banned within the walls of your shared north london home, both of you well aware without needing verbal confirmation that leah would now be out of the running for selection, only a few months into her recovery and rehab by the time it would be happening.

you knew within yourself that the chances of you being picked were also slim, due to a stubborn and reoccurring shoulder injury this season you'd hardly had any minutes on the pitch the last two months, you'd been called up for the pre tournament camp but you were struggling not to feel guilt at this when thinking of your girlfriends situation.

but today, your focus was entirely on leah.

~

"welcome back blondie." you smiled softly as the girl beside you slowly awoke, running a hand fondly through her hair and moving a few loose strands that clung to her sweaty forehead. "how'd it go?" leah slurred slightly, the anesthetic still wearing off as she blinked repeatedly trying to focus in on her surroundings.

"terribly, they had to amputate." you answered seriously, leah rolling her eyes and wincing a little as she moved the wrong way. "you can press this one for morphine and this one for a nurse." you immediately snapped back into carer mode and explained the remote by her bedside softly as leah nodded.

"your mums just getting some food and then she'll be in, alex had to go for a bit but she said she'll be pop by tonight to see you while i'm at training." the words left your mouth before you even registered them, wincing slightly once they'd passed your lips. "don't apologise, please. it's fine." leah slowly grabbed your hand, bringing it up to her own lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"i know i've been a nightmare to deal with lately but i don't want you to stop focus on your own football just to make me feel better, what's happened is out of my control but your performance is still within yours. promise me you'll go to camp and give it your all?" leah asked, gazing up at you as you hesitated, the firm look in her eyes breaking you down without any further words needed.

"i promise." you nodded, dipping your head to press your lips sweetly to hers, pulling away as her mum hurried back into the room, the blonde sending you a cheeky wink and a smile as you did.

~

you kept to your promise and it earnt you a spot on the world cup team, you started in the quarter finals and as hard as it was for leah to watch, her heart swelled with love and pride, sharing in your happiness and success.

her mum and brother had flown over with your parents to support you, you sternly telling your girlfriend as much as you'd have loved to see her in australia her recovery and rehab was more important and she'd begrudgingly agreed. though looking back now at how hard it had been to even watch the games from afar, she was grateful at the decision made.

she'd been nothing but supportive when her girls were regretfully knocked out at the semi finals by the reigning US champs, consoling you over 2am facetimes with nothing but sweet words and affirmations of how much she treasured and adored you.

most of the team deciding to stay in australia for their remaining two weeks you were on the first flight back, bidding them a fond farewell but itching to be back by your lovers side. you knew now why they said what they did, distance does make the heart grow fonder.

exhausted, sleep deprived and looking an absolute state you staggered off the plane feeling half dead as you tugged your hood over your head and made a beeline for luggage collection, breathing in leahs fast fading scent on the cosy material wrapped around you, making a mental note to swap the hoodie out for a new one of hers once you returned home.

but all of your exhaustion melted away as you stepped into the arrivals lounge and saw her.

not caring if anyone was watching on you tightened your hold on your luggage and sprinted toward your girlfriend, the defenders mouth curling into a grin as she braced herself, engulfing you in a hug as you reached her.

"babe no your knee!" you gasped as her arms hooked around you and lifted your shorter form into the air. "nah its a super knee my girl, see!" leah placed you back on the ground and kicked her leg out a few times with a cheeky smile. "i hate this stupid hat." you teased at the grey baggy green which sat atop her mop of blonde hair which was tied back into a loose bun.

"but you love me in it." the older girls eyes darted around to make sure there weren't any cameras around before she tugged you into a searing kiss, your relationship was hardly a secret but it was kept as private as the two of you could manage, anything released about the two of you was ideally from your own social media accounts.

but none of it mattered, you were here with leah again, you were home.

~

"two!" you ordered, flicking the ball back toward leah who juggled it twice and flicked it onto beth, calling out three as the other blonde juggled and flicked it over to you calling out seven with a wide grin.

"oh god okay!" you laughed, doing your best but messing up on your fifth touch, the ball sent tumbling away to the other side of the gym. "that was evil beffy." you shoved at the older girl who ruffled your hair and jogged off as a staff member called for her attention.

"look at you go superstar." you shook your head with a proud smile as leah pulled you into a hug, burying your face in her neck as she sighed softly kissing your forehead. "one step forward every day right?" leah breathed out, echoing the words you'd been drilling into her head for the last few months, by her side every step of the way as promised.

"tomorrows the major test." leah fiddled nervously with her hands as she looked away, eyes staring everywhere but at you as your face softened at the crack in her normally razor sharp defense. "hey look at me." your hands cupped her face, gently moving her to look at you.

"i have never been prouder of you leah. you are the strongest woman i know and the most admirable role model for everyone team mate or friend or footballer alike, this was a true test and i know its not been easy but you put your head down and you did the work. we're through the worst of it now and i know you'll be back out there soon, yelling and bossing everyone around again." you finished with a teasing smile, your girlfriend playfully shoving your head at your words before tugging you into a kiss, murmuring a gentle thank you against your lips.

~

"go on leah!" beth cheered loudly, your team mates all joining in as the blonde grinned, steadying herself in her starting position. "you've got this baby!" you shouted, ignoring the teasings from your friends which followed, shoving them away with a roll of your eyes.

"pretend katie is chasing you!" viv yelled out with a sly smile, the irish woman scoffing and trying to pull her into a headlock as the training staff shushed you all, warning if you couldn't behave you would all be sent back inside, firmly reminding leah needed to focus in order to be cleared to progress to the final stage of her rehab.

"go!" the whistle sounded and with a flash of red from the arsenal training top she was off, sprinting between cones and dipping and dodging between flags as you anxiously bounced your knee up and down, lottes hand coming to rest on it with a reassuring squeeze as you let out a sigh, resting your head on your chin.

the large group which had huddled to watch leahs assessment slowly broke away, called off to other commitments or their own pre season tests until there were only about five of you remaining as the girls assessment neared an end.

"she looked good." you whispered under your breath as lotte hummed in agreement from beside you and the whistle sounded again. leah bent down with hands on her knees, catching her breath as the staff patted her on the back and huddled in to compare their findings. 

"yeah but you always say she looks good." katie teased flicking at your ear where she stood behind you as you turned and pinched at her leg before your focus shifted back to leah, who now stood chatting with the medics and rehab staff, face bare of any emotion, the girl always having had a killer poker face.

your heart was in your throat as it seemed the conversation wrapped up, nothing given away in facial expressions or body language as the staff dispersed and leah wandered back over. wiping the sweat off her face with a towel which she threw at katie, the irish woman swearing at her to watch it in warning but only playfully.

"so?" you asked right to your feet bouncing eagerly on your toes as leah shook her head, looking down to the ground as your body deflated, stepping forward to console her. "i'll be back by game two hopefully!" the defender suddenly grinned, hooking her hands under your thighs and lifting you into the air with a twirl.

your small group erupted into a cheer, squashing the two of you into a collective group hug. you smile stretched so wide your face began to ache, leah putting you back on the ground as she chatted happily with the rest of your friends before they all said their goodbyes all having other commitments.

"c'mere you." leah grinned once the two of you were alone, balling your top in her fists and smashing her lips to yours, your tongues roaming one anothers mouth before you pulled away, chest heaving and trying to refill your lungs with air from the breathless kiss.

"step by step my girl." leah exhaled, her forehead pressed to yours as you nodded, eyes shone with pride as you stared at her in adoration. "step by step baby."

[sirfrogsworth]

The Decision

Taking care of my dad has been challenging but probably the most rewarding thing I've ever done. In the past year I've had to push myself beyond my limits, beyond my illness, and do everything I could to make sure my dad was comfortable as his body slowly failed him.

I hadn't driven in over a decade, but he needed to get to dialysis so I took the entire driving test like a teenager in order to get my license again. I had to move out of my cozy basement command center and upstairs into the light. I hate the light. Much too bright. Since then we have been spending almost every second of every day together. This causes us to get on each others' nerves on occasion. But most of the time we are happy to have each others' company.

My job is mostly supervision and problem solving. I watch him to make sure he doesn't fall. But if he did fall, I needed a way to get him back up. So I found an electric chair lift. I just scoot his butt on and raise him back up. If he had a medical problem, I would figure out which doctor could help him. If his feet were cold, I would find battery-powered heated slippers to keep his toes toasty. Our house is filled with little solutions I found to make him as comfortable and safe as possible.

If he needs help with anything I am always right there to assist. It's usually little things, but for him, sometimes little things can be impossible things.

I was proud to do this and I believe it brought us closer than we have ever been.

Wednesday morning the surgery team came to visit my dad and look at his foot. They told me they cannot save the foot. My dad would need a below-the-knee amputation. This would require two months of grueling, painful rehab. Then another month or two for him to adjust to a prosthetic leg. Which he may not be able to tolerate with his balance issues.

Then the lung doctor came in. He said my dad's breathing could improve, but probably not to a comfortable degree. He explained with my dad's congestive heart failure getting worse, he is probably looking at another six months to a year of life, but only if everything with the amputation goes well.

I asked the lung doctor if this was all worth it. Four months of painful recovery from amputation just to live another two months? He said a reasonable person could decide it is worth it. That some people want to squeeze every second out of life. But another reasonable person might decide that quality of life is more important than length of life.

My dad has been unhappy with his health struggles for a while now. Dialysis is just awful. He sits in a chair for four hours, three times per week, and comes home absolutely wiped out. He sleeps for two to three hours and then feels miserable the rest of the night. Sometimes he will recover from the dialysis and then it is time to get more dialysis. Sundays were his only real day of rest because he had an extra day of recovery time.

He has breathing difficulties and they are getting worse. He can't take deep breaths so his lungs keep filling with CO2. The CO2 exacerbates his delirium and confusion. He has to wear an uncomfortable BiPAP breathing mask for hours to get rid of the CO2. Once the CO2 is blown off, he switches to high flow oxygen in his nose. The CO2 builds up again... back to the BiPAP. It has become a vicious cycle.

He is constantly trying to right his balance when he walks. He has arthritis pain that never stops. And because his circulation is so bad, his extremities are always either tingling or stinging him with neuropathy pain. Those heated slippers were his only refuge.

His depression is obvious. He curses at every little inconvenience. Every dropped pill due to his hands not working. Every time he bumps into the wall with his walker. Every time he fails to stand up, having to try multiple times. Everything frustrates him.

He hates being tethered to oxygen. He feels trapped in a 50 foot radius. He constantly wishes for nothing more than to go outside and take his riding mower for a spin.

I try to entertain him with new movies and TV shows, but he has trouble concentrating on new things. Sometimes he prefers just to watch his NCIS shows that he has seen many times. That way he won't get frustrated if he falls asleep and misses the ending.

And... he lost his wife.

He has had to exist without her for a year now and he sometimes forgets she is gone. He'll call out to her and she won't respond. He'll think she is still lying next to him in bed only to discover it is the pillow supporting his back. I think when she died a part of himself died as well. He lost a huge reason to keep fighting.

And since he has been back in the hospital, his delirium and confusion have returned. He is more lucid in the mornings after sleeping. But the exhaustion from not getting enough sleep, dialysis, his foot infection and pain, the drugs, the constant in-and-out of people checking on him... it's just too much. His brain cannot function without restful sleep. So he ends up hallucinating and losing the ability to communicate.

There just does not seem to be a path forward where he could have a comfortable quality of life.

In the height of his foot pain he has exclaimed many times "I WANT TO DIE." And while I know part of that was due to his misery and frustration and pain in that moment... I think that exclamation contained his unfiltered wishes.

He was lucid Wednesday morning and we had a good conversation. He did not want to endure months of recovery and rehab. He did not want the pain of losing a leg. He did not want to fight for every breath. He did not want to lose access to clear thoughts on a regular basis. And he did not want to continue on without the love of his life.

There is this selfish part of me that wanted to convince him to keep fighting. He is my best friend. He is the greatest father I could ask for. Taking care of him this past year has given me great purpose. It has been an honor to help take care of him--as he had done for me all of my life.

Lately, he has had trouble getting into bed and covering himself up. So I have been tucking him in every night just like he did for me when I was little. First I have to arrange his pillows just right. One between his legs and one for him to hug. I put on his toasty slippers to keep his feet warm. I pull the covers up, give him a hug, tell him I love him, and say goodnight. Then I ask his Alexa speaker to play Billy Joel for him to fall asleep to. And I love doing that for him. I feel happy that we got through another day.

Whenever I am alone in our house, I miss him. I have never been in an empty house. It just feels wrong. And I'm not sure I am ready to adjust to that reality.

I want to watch another season of Cardinal's baseball with him. He loves The Mandalorian so much and I want to watch the new episodes with him. I downloaded every John Wayne movie, and even though I don't always care for those films, I like seeing him smile as he watches The Duke get into trouble.

I don't want to lose both of my parents in the span of a year.

And, well, I also don't want to lose the house. I don't want to live on my own. I don't want to worry about not having enough money to live. These are just things I can't help worrying about. And I feel guilty for worrying about myself during this time.

I have all of these reasons to want him to continue on. And I bet if I asked him to keep trying, he would do that for me. He would continue suffering and struggling for me. Because there has never been a time in his life that he would not do *anything* for his sons.

That's just who he is.

But I know I have to filter those feelings and reasons out. I know I can't ask my father to endure any more pain and misery because I fear being alone. He has always done what is best for me, and now I need to return the favor.

He has lived a long life. He had a wife that he loved. He had two sons that he raised and instilled his values in. He has a beautiful legacy that will live on in us.

He has nothing left to accomplish in this world.

He told me he wanted an out but he didn't know how to go about it. But I did. And I had to fight the urge to keep it to myself. I did not want to tell my father how to end his life. And telling him almost felt like I was personally killing him.

Thursday morning his favorite doctor is going to come speak to us. She is his kidney doctor. She is going to explain the process of stopping dialysis. With palliative care, it can be a relatively painless exit. Over a few weeks his kidneys will fail to filter out toxins. They will build up in his system. And eventually he will fade to black.

My mother had a horrible, painful, lonely death. Her final words were over a telephone because of COVID restrictions. The last time I saw her was across the ICU through a glass window.

Thankfully, my dad will be able to go out on his own terms.

He will be comfortable and surrounded by loved ones.

[leveloneandup]

Christen Press' transformative journey back from injury

Christen Press once believed she was indestructible, immune to the injuries that had sidelined teammates and ended careers. But in 2022, an anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) tear shattered not only her knee but also the carefully constructed armor she had relied on throughout her career.

What followed wasn't just a physical struggle to return to the field but a profound journey of emotional recovery. Initially, Press saw rehabilitation as purely physical -- a means to heal her body. However, as setbacks kept her off the pitch and she explored new treatments, her perspective shifted.

The injury, the U.S. women's national team star realized, wasn't a curse but a gift, offering her an unexpected opportunity to confront long-buried grief and trauma.

"It wasn't painful," Press told ESPN in an exclusive interview. "It was more the realization that something was wrong with my body, and what that meant for my future."

In 2022, Press' future was tied to her hometown club, Angel City FC, after an 11-year professional career spanning America and Europe.

Incredibly, she had been available for every game except one, which she missed because of food poisoning. Her body had endured the physical demands of playing for both club and country. But in June of that year, during an NWSL match against Racing Louisville, she tracked back to help her team, committed to a challenge and crumpled to the ground following the contact.

Press had witnessed the ACL injury crisis in the women's game derail the careers of her peers, but she never imagined it would happen to her until it did, at the age of 33. By then, she was in the veteran stage of her career. An MRI confirmed the tear, and she underwent surgery soon after, beginning her recovery with a mix of apprehension and intrigue, expecting to return to competition within 9-12 months.

"I was sad, afraid and disappointed to miss the season," she recalled. "But part of me welcomed it because, as a professional athlete, pushing yourself is part of the process. I was confident I would gain something positive from the experience."

However, Press' body didn't respond well to rehabilitation. Significant challenges delayed her return to full fitness. Six months into her recovery, which had already included one revision surgery, Sarah Smith, Angel City's vice president of medical and performance, joined the club. With Angel City still developing its facilities, Press' rehabilitation took place off-site at the Meyer Institute of Sport, an elite rehabilitation and performance center.

Smith's team was in constant communication with the specialists, managing what became a complex injury. But soon, "career-altering problems" arose, causing the medical team "sleepless nights," Smith said.

"You think you're going to hit all the milestones and move smoothly through the continuum," she added. "But that's not always the case, and it's not reflective of the athlete's professionalism or the work they put in."

Every time Press neared a return to the field, another issue emerged. Devastatingly, this resulted in two more surgeries, making it four in total, testing her mental and physical resilience. She missed the 2023 Women's World Cup, and at times, it seemed her career was over.

"It was extremely confusing because every day I showed up with a smile on my face," Press said. "I never asked for a break, I never left early. I was very disciplined and extremely determined. I thought that would mean I'd have a linear path back, and it was challenging to accept it was out of my control."

Whenever she felt discomfort in her knee, she contacted her surgeon, desperate for some good news. But the diagnosis was always grim. "It was never just a bad day where the knee was actually fine. It was always, 'There's a cyclops lesion in your knee, and you can't play.'"

Running out of hope and options, Press started to explore alternative medicine.

"I have the best surgical team, the best physical therapy team, but that's not the only way to heal," she said. "I challenged myself to be around different types of healing."

What began as an attempt to fix her knee turned into an internal transformation, healing not just her injury but the trauma and grief she had been carrying.

"When I set out to heal my knee, I ended up healing my heart," Press reflected, referring to the pain she had harboured since the death of her mother in 2019. Her mother's death came as Press was preparing for the World Cup in France. The pursuit of ultimate glory became both an outlet and a distraction from her grief.

"Sport is so amazing in that it lets you process things differently -- getting all that adrenaline and sweat out of your body is detoxifying and balances your hormones, but it also masks a lot," she explained.

"It allows you to keep going and bury what's happened to you. When my mum passed in 2019, I missed one or two camps with the U.S. national team, then went back, and we won a World Cup.

"I was able to play for my mum, but it also left a lot of grief inside me that hadn't been addressed. That's the first thing I started to deal with in therapy.

"I did a lot of balancing my nervous system in acupuncture. I went to a homoeopathic doctor and he explained that in his opinion how the grief could have caused me to tear my ACL in the first place."

Away from her rehabilitation she remained in contact with the Angel City squad, attending game days and participating in meetings. Head coach Becki Tweed said Press requested a binder with set-piece tactics, to keep herself mentally engaged, while she was physically restricted.

The medical team remained cautious, taking a step-by-step approach to rebuild Press' capacity for movement, careful to avoid another major setback. Her rehabilitation work would often involve repeating movements 7-8 times more than a patient typically would, demonstrating the thoroughness required due to the complexity of her injury.

Throughout the monotonous rehab work and the frustration of watching her teammates train, the California native remained relentless in her quest to return to the field. Even when those closest to her wavered, she remained resolute.

"When you're told you need surgery for a fourth time, the people who love you start to ask, 'At what point is she going to wake up?'" said the two-time World Cup winner. "But it never even dawned on me to give up. That's just how I'm wired."

Her determination has left a lasting impression on the staff.

"You could see the discomfort in her knee during technical work," recalled Smith. "Watching her in pain, I wasn't sure more time or strength would help. It was hard to know that pushing through might not make it better.

"But she excelled throughout the two-year process, bringing optimism, hope, and joy to it all."

That perseverance has paid off. Although Press didn't make the 2024 Olympic squad, she is set to return for Angel City FC as the NWSL resumes this weekend. She's been training with the team for three months and made her return in early August, scoring a penalty in Angel City's shootout win over San Diego Wave in the NWSL x Liga MX Femenil Summer Cup.

"I had a conversation with her before the game, and she said, 'I'm not afraid,'" Tweed said. "During the game, she took the contact of a tackle, got up, and smiled. She needed that moment.

"After that, she had two shots. That's what she brings -- smart movement and the ability to find dangerous spaces around the 18-yard box."

At 35, with 64 international goals ranking her ninth in USWNT history, there's not much left for Press to achieve. But she's not done yet, even if her outlook has shifted.

"There are mixed emotions about how I can have the greatest impact for my team while minimizing long-term consequences for my life," she said. "But I'm excited to continue making progress and have a bigger impact on Angel City FC."

Her injury, though devastating, became a transformative experience -- physically, mentally, and emotionally.

As she steps back onto the pitch, Press is stronger in ways she never anticipated, having learned one key lesson: "You are exactly where you're supposed to be."

And for Press, that's back on the field at BMO Stadium this Sunday, with the grass under her feet.

[whirlybirbs]

he tears his acl during a pre-season match.

doc has just started her career as team asgard’s head athletic trainer after selvig’s retirement the year before.

laufeyson goes down after a slide tackle to the horrified sound of the crowd. he was on track for a record season. the center forward is now out for the 2024 season.

cut to loki hating doc because she’s the one who hands down the news about his rehab time, hating because she’s intent on making sure he plays next season, hating because she’s kind despite his anger.

and he is angry. he might as well quit. he will never play again. just last week he was a star athlete in his prime — a paparazzi’s dream. now he is some fame-starved, hungover loser. he sits on the damn bench.

but that damn doc pushes. and pushes. long days when he can finally wear a brace, to rehabbing his knee entirely. sunsets in the summer over the pitch as she runs drills. again. again. again.

until he’s better again.

[scoops-stevie-archive]

the "eddie feeds trailer park raccoons" posts made me remember my tags on this post so i cleaned them up and made this ✨

wayne takes him hunting one season and while eddie doesn't particularly enjoy waking up before the sun and bundling himself in camouflage and traffic cone orange on a saturday, he does enjoy a good homecooked meal made with meat you hunted yourself. makes him feel good about what's going into his body (though you'll never hear him pass up burger king, especially if someone else is paying.)

eddie's got himself a hefty prize pile going in the sled they brought, made up of smaller game.

(he's only a little disappointed it isn't deer season.)

wayne's grumpy about it and says eddie's got an advantage because of his age and his eyesight being better. normally, they'd be in the woods from sunup to sundown, but wayne's gotta work the next day, a rare day shift, so they call it quits around three pm. wayne gets his last shot in and he goes to pick the animal up, lamenting the lack of a retriever dog as his knees crack and pop, when he hears a rustling in a nearby tree trunk.

ah shit.

a tiny, furry grey head pops up and wayne doesn't figure it's old enough to fend for itself yet. he motions for eddie with a flick of his fingers and puts them to his lips. he drops the body in the sled as eddie scruffs the raccoon kit and lifts it from the tree so it doesn’t put up a fight and scratch or bite him. they're strapped for cash enough as it is and rabies shots are expensive.

"what do we do with it?" he asks, holding the thing up to eye level. it can't be more than a couple months old, still completely dependent on its mother for survival.

wayne sighs and starts packing their gear. "got a buddy who works at the rehab center. we'll take it there and see if they can do anything."

the drive there, eddie keeps the little thing tucked into his coat. the middle of january still brings cold snaps and snow and the animal is shivering despite its thick winter fur. eddie thinks it's kind of cute.

they were right about the raccoon's age; around three months, wayne's buddy estimates from her weight. she's a female, which delights eddie for a reason he can't explain. after she's got her shots, he tells them that, legally, they need a permit to keep her, but since he and wayne go back a ways, he can let a few things slide.

so they go home and dig out an old cage to keep her in until she stops growling and hissing at them when they get close to her. she lives off a diet of eggs mixed in milk and has to be bottle fed. it's eddie's favorite part of the day because he gets to hold her and he thinks she's getting used to it because she stops trying to squirm out of his arms and doesn't bite him as often.

he calls in a favor to nancy and asks if her mom has any of holly's baby onesies and she is rightfully curious.

"it's for a raccoon."

"....right."

he dresses her up and thankfully, nancy brings diapers (he doesn't ask how awkward that particular shopping trip was) because the baby has started treating the trailer like her bathroom and wayne's already threatened to throw her back out into the woods if he has to clean up another mess. so she walks around the place in her little onesie and diaper like the little trailer park princess she is and everyone knows who she belongs to. max has already claimed the spot for cool aunt.

eddie has to stop himself from buying a secondhand stroller.

unfortunately, eddie's spent the last couple weeks so caught up in the thrill of being a single parent, he forgets that he's not actually single at all.

steve pulls into the trailer park on a cold, cloudy day and before he can even get a foot out the car, he's greeted by a raccoon wearing a pastel pink baby onesie with white lace frills that's clearly meant for a human baby. he blinks down at it, visibly confused, and looks around to see where it came from.

the trailer door opens and his boyfriend is yelling with all the energy of an exasperated parent, hands on his hips and a dish rag thrown over one shoulder, a baby bottle in one hand,

"jezebel munson, you get your furry lil hind end back inside this trailer right now!"

as if the raccoon understood, it toddles toward the porch steps and eddie moves aside to let it pass, pointing inside. "straight to the couch, little missy!"

steve slowly follows behind her and stops at the last step, watching as the animal climbs a jerry rigged set of steps next to the couch.

"eddie. what the hell."

eddie turns to grin down at him, hands still on his hips. "stevie, we're parents now! meet your daughter, jezebel."

steve can only sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose before accepting his fate and going inside for father daughter bonding time.

[werepuppy-steve]

wayne takes him hunting one season and while eddie doesn’t particularly enjoy waking up before the sun and bundling himself in camouflage and traffic cone orange on a saturday, he does enjoy a good homecooked meal made with meat you hunted yourself. makes him feel good about what’s going into his body (though you’ll never hear him pass up burger king, especially if someone else is paying.)

eddie’s got himself a hefty prize pile going in the sled they brought, made up of smaller game.

(he’s only a little disappointed it isn’t deer season.)

wayne’s grumpy about it and says eddie’s got an advantage because of his age and his eyesight being better. normally, they’d be in the woods from sunup to sundown, but wayne’s gotta work the next day, a rare day shift, so they call it quits around three pm. wayne gets his last shot in and he goes to pick the animal up, lamenting the lack of a retriever dog as his knees crack and pop, when he hears a rustling in a nearby tree trunk.

ah shit.

a tiny, furry grey head pops up and wayne doesn’t figure it’s old enough to fend for itself yet. he motions for eddie with a flick of his fingers and puts them to his lips. he drops the body in the sled as eddie scruffs the raccoon kit and lifts it from the tree so it doesn’t put up a fight and scratch or bite him. they’re strapped for cash enough as it is and rabies shots are expensive.

“what do we do with it?” he asks, holding the thing up to eye level. it can’t be more than a couple months old, still completely dependent on its mother for survival.

wayne sighs and starts packing their gear. “got a buddy who works at the rehab center. we’ll take it there and see if they can do anything.”

the drive there, eddie keeps the little thing tucked into his coat. the middle of january still brings cold snaps and snow and the animal is shaking despite its thick winter fur. eddie thinks it’s kind of cute.

they were right about the raccoon’s age; around three months, wayne’s buddy estimates from her weight. she’s a female, which delights eddie for a reason he can’t explain. after she’s got her shots, he tells them that, legally, they need a permit to keep her, but since he and wayne go back a ways, he can let a few things slide.

so they go home and dig out an old cage to keep her in until she stops growling and hissing at them when they get close to her. she lives off a diet of eggs mixed in milk and has to be bottle fed. it’s eddie’s favorite part of the day because he gets to hold her and he thinks she’s getting used to it because she stops trying to squirm out of his arms and doesn’t bite him as often. (there's a photo on the fridge of eddie covered in ban-aids and holding her in one arm, giving the camera a thumbs up with the other, a giant grin on his face. 'progress!' is written on the bottom.)

he calls in a favor to nancy and asks if her mom has any of holly’s baby clothes and she is rightfully curious.

“it’s for a raccoon.”

“….right.”

he dresses her up and thankfully, nancy brings diapers (he doesn’t ask how awkward that particular shopping trip was) because the baby has started treating the trailer like her bathroom and wayne’s already threatened to throw her back out into the woods if he has to clean up another mess. so she walks around the place in her little onesie and diaper like the little trailer park princess she is and everyone knows who she belongs to. max has already claimed the spot for cool aunt.

eddie has to stop himself from buying a secondhand stroller.

unfortunately, he's spent the last couple weeks so caught up in the thrill of being a single parent, he forgets that he’s not actually single at all.

steve pulls into the trailer park on a cold, cloudy day and before he can even get a foot out the car, he’s greeted by a raccoon wearing a pastel pink onesie with white lace frills that’s clearly meant for a human baby. he blinks down at it, visibly confused, and looks around to see where it came from.

the trailer door suddenly opens and his boyfriend is yelling with all the energy of an exasperated parent, hands on his hips and a dish rag thrown over one shoulder, a baby bottle in one hand,

“jezebel munson, you get your furry lil hind end back inside this trailer right now!”

as if the raccoon understood, it toddles toward the porch steps and eddie moves aside to let it pass, pointing inside. “straight to the couch, little missy!”

steve slowly follows behind her and stops at the last step, watching as the animal climbs a jerry-rigged set of steps next to the couch.

“eddie. what the hell.”

eddie turns to grin down at him, hands still on his hips. "we're parents now, stevie! meet your daughter, jezebel.”

steve can only sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose before accepting his fate and going inside for father daughter bonding time.

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee

[sukinohealthcare]

Knee Replacement Rehab Center in Bangalore & Kochi

Knee replacement, also referred to as knee arthroplasty or knee resurfacing surgery, is a medical intervention involving the replacement of the bone surfaces. This surgical process aims to alleviate pain and reinstate functionality in severely afflicted knee joints. The method includes removing damaged bone and cartilage, replacing them with an artificial joint (prosthesis) crafted from metal alloys or advanced plastics and polymers.

[littlemissheavenonearth]

A Dance With Danger (Steve Clark x Reader)

a/n: This fic does cover some heavy topics, so if you are not comfortable with that, please do not read <3

January 7th, 1991

It was a nice day in London for Winter. I was in the home of my boyfriend, Steve Clark. He and I were watching some telly right after lunch. He hadn't said a word at all today and it worried me, not that he spoke much in general, but usually he would say something.

He stood up to grab a bottle of Vodka from the liquor closet in the kitchen. He took the bottle and attempted to chug it down, but I stopped him. He looked at me with frustration, but he didn't leave the room like some people would if they were angry.

It was difficult watching him suffer like this, but no matter how hard anybody tried to help him, he wouldn't allow it.

"Steve!" I cried, "Stop it, please."

"I can't, Y/N." He walked to the dinner table and sat on one of the chairs.

"Yes, you can."

"No, no, Y/N/N, I- I've gone too far." The pain in his voice was too much.

He really did go to far and he did want help, but never asked for it. He was addicted and every time he tried to get himself to stop, he'd keep going back for more.

"Oh God," I stood up from my knees and started breathing really hard.

Steve just watched me, the sadness he felt made his eyes go dark. He felt bad, really bad. For the entirety of the day, I kept him away from any kind of booze or alcoholic drink.

That's what I was gonna do from now on, I loved him too much to let him kill himself like this. He meant too much to me to let him go.

---

"Steve, can you take a walk with me?" I knocked on the closed door of our shared room. I heard sounds of somebody vomiting in the bathroom. I opened the door to our bedroom and walked to the bathroom.

He turned to me and opened his mouth to speak, but turned to vomit again. I sat against the wall as I watched him. Why did nobody try to help him earlier? Couldn't they see he was struggling?

"Oh Stev-"

"I'm sorry, Y/N/N, I'm sorry." You could really tell that he wanted to let go. It was his time, I tried to not think about it, but I just couldn't.

"Don't apologize, baby, you can't help it. Addiction is not easy." I wiped the corners of his mouth with the sleeves of my sweater that he gave to me in 1985, "But why didn't you ask for help at all?"

He looked down at the floor, ashamed, "I couldn't. Well, part of me didn't want help and the other part of me didn't have the guts to ask for help."

"Well, we can still try. Tomorrow, I will call the rehab center nearby so that I can take you."

"Ok," He gave me a soft smile.

"Just promise me that you won't try to keep drinking afterward." I do know drinking and booze was his way to escape his mind. He always had issues dealing with his own thoughts. And that was in fact understandable, but he never asked for help with that either.

---

That evening, I made him some roast beef for dinner, it was his favorite food and he looked the way I made it.

"Thank you, love." He smiled at me when I set his plate in front of him at the dinner table.

"No need to thank me, Dreamy." I winked and sat on the opposite side of the table.

As soon as he took the first bite he said to me, "Wonderful, as always."

I blushed, for years he has said that to me and it always makes butterflies in my stomach come alive. To be honest, just being there with him made the butterflies come alive.

After dinner, we went to watch TV again, like we did earlier today. We put on MTV, my favorite channel. The music video for Rock Of Ages was playing.

"Do you remember filming that video?" I asked Steve.

"Of course. I'm that's when we met, so how could I forget?"

"That's my favorite song for that reason." I smiled and moved a a little closer to him, I snuggled on his side after I kissed his cheek.

By ten pm the two of us went up to change for bed. We climbed into bed shortly after, "Good night, Steve, I love you." he grinned and said the same thing back and we kissed for a good eight seconds.

---

January 8th, 1991

I woke up at around seven in the morning and I turned to tell Steve that I was going to call the rehab center.

"Steve, babe, wake up." I put my hand on his chest where his heart was, "Steve?" I started panicking and tear started filling my eyes after not feeling his heart beating.

"Steve! Wake Up!" I was breathing really hard.

"Steve-" Then silence filled the room, I dropped to my knees on his side of the bed. He was gone, Steve was really gone, I was too late. I should've tried to help him earlier.

"Bloody hell!" I screamed and ran down to the landline in the living room.

I dialed Phil's number, "Y/N?" He responed,"What's wrong?"

"St-Steve,"

"What about him?"

"He's, He's g-gone." By now, I was full on sobbing, I was pretty sure Phil didn't understand a thing I was saying.

"Gone?"

"D-dead." I stuttered, there as murmuring on the other end of the phone.

"Hang on, love, we are on our way," At this point, I didn't bother hanging up, I let the phone hang as I dropped to the floor.

After some time, there was a knock on the door. So I moved to the door as best as I could and I opened it.

"Y/N?" Joe noticed my tears, "Come 'ere." He motioned for me to hug him and so I did.

"Where is he?"

"In the bed," I hiccuped. I followed the boys to the room, to see the blonde guitarist lying on the bed.

"I feel like this is my fault." I admitted.

"No, no, it's not your fault. We all tried to help him, but he wouldn't let us."

"When he did admit he needed help, it was too late." I whispered, tears filling in my eyes again.

Steve, I love you. You know that. I'm honored that I got to love you for 9 years. You've made me realize things that nobody else made me realize. You opened my eyes to several opportunities. I don't know what I would've done all those years if I hadn't known you.

I only wish that I could've been there for you, like you were there for me. It's going to be hard living with out you, but I hope that you watch over me and the rest of the Leppard guys. Would you hold my hand? Guide me to you when my time is near?

I just want to be with you, Steve. Thank you for every thing that you have done for us.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[zilabee]

“I had a real bad alcohol problem. Very few people in the public—no one in the public—knew my problem. We could hide it from them. We could go out and put the bow tie on, and we could wave to the cameras and they’d say, ‘There he goes, good old Ringo.’ But we’d be maintaining at those moments. We’d be dashing home right after it.” [...]

Ringo’s alcohol addiction was so strong that he drank himself into oblivion on the flight to Arizona. “I landed drunk as a skunk at the clinic,” he said. “I drank all the way and got off the plane completely demented. I thought I was going to a lunatic asylum. 

I thought I’d gone too far and they were going to put me away in a little cell and forget about me. Instead of that, they put their arms around me and loved me and told me it [would] get better. ‘Give us a chance,’ they said. With God’s help a day at a time it certainly has.” 

The five-week course of treatment reportedly cost $35,000 per person. Upon their arrival at [The Sierra Tucson Rehab Center], Ringo and Barbara were put in separate rooms with no televisions or phones. “Eight days in, I decided, ‘I’m here to get help because I know I’m sick,’” Ringo said. “And I just did whatever they asked me and, thank God, it pulled me through.” [...]

Ringo and Barbara were given no preferential treatment. They worked at assigned menial jobs, did their laundry, cleaned ashtrays, and were in bed early. They also attended group therapy sessions and counselling sessions. 

“Until I got to the clinic I didn’t realize I was from a dysfunctional family,” Ringo said later. “We had parties, everyone gets drunk and passed out, and that’s part of life. My mother always told me that when I was nine, I was on my knees crawling drunk. A friend of mine’s father had all the booze ready for Christmas, and we decided to try all of it. I don’t remember too much. That was my first blackout. 

“You always think you’re witty on alcohol and cocaine,” he said. “You think you’re so witty that you decide to tell the same story over and over and over and over and over again. To the same person. I meet people now . . . and I think, ‘God, was I like that?’ And a little voice inside says, ‘Yes, you were.’” 

Ringo: With a Little Help, by Michael Seth Starr

[sirenalpha]

ok Batman Hockey AU (no capes or superpowers of any kind)

first the team

Gotham Knights (probably)

I want them to have like Pittsburgh Penguins financial problems like they nearly get moved because of it but Bruce turns his owed salary into equity post career and helps keep the team in the city

Philadelphia Flyers style team history though like they won their first cups through physical play not being highly skilled

currently have a monochrome uniform now but everyone likes their more colorful uniforms from the 90s

Bruce Wayne

nickname: Wayner

position: left winger

play style: power forward

drafted: 5th overall

50 goal scorer in the dead puck era

one of the last guys to be high scoring and have 100+ penalty minutes

retires due to back injuries

wins one cup in the 90s

and like I said before he agrees to get partial ownership of the team to keep it in the city post retirement

Dick Grayson

nicknames: Tracy, Mr. President

position: center

play style: playmaker

drafted: 1st overall

first sign of hope as the team has been bottom of the league post Bruce's retirement

I did consider making him a goalie because of flexibility but felt him being captain was more important so center it is

one of the youngest captains in the league as he's named at the start of his sophomore season as he entered the NHL at 18

only one to go CHL as he's not American so no US National Team Development Program

cheats at face offs because if you're not cheating you're not trying

can use heel to heel for puck protection and can get off the ice on his own if he loses a blade on his skate

no one thinks he's fast until he's coming after them on the backcheck

favorite thing is stealing the puck, second favorite thing is breaking ankles

doesn't fight but he can WWE slam guys to the ice

everyone thought he was a bust for the first two years because he had no one to pass to

third year he decides to start shooting and begins to rack up more points

chats with everyone teammates, opponents, refs

always stops to sign stuff for kids

Jason Todd

nicknames: Toddy, Hot Toddy

position: right defense

play style: offensive defenseman

drafted: 62nd

dropped in the draft because he was short

got into a car accident that destroyed his knee after the draft so everyone thought his career was over

rehabbed his knee to the extreme and came back a season later and suddenly 6'0"

went NCAA before NHL to get back into it and scored a ton

cannot play defense

thinks punching guys in the face is gap control

has totally had pucks go off his ass and into his team's goal

will jump into the rush

silent wrist shot for power play goals

never talks to Dick when he gets mic'ed up

Tim Drake

nickname: Goose

position: right winger

play style: goal scorer

drafted: 15th

also dropped in the draft because he's short

USNTDP to NCAA

actually not that fast

always loses defensive coverage in the offensive zone

deceptive shot, can change the angle on goalies

always squeezes out from getting hit

active stick on defense, good at poking the puck away

lots of high sticking penalties in the early years

did get checked into his own bench one time and no one will let him forget it

Damian Wayne

nickname: also Wayner

position: center

play style: goal scorer

not drafted yet still in USNTDP

Talia refuses to get into hockey even after being with Bruce but when Damian was three she asked Bruce if skating would wear him out and he said yes so she let Damian go skate

didn't learn to how to stop until he was six because going fast was more important so either fell down or slammed into the boards to stop

vicious in family games of floor hockey

definitely practices trick shots

gets both power skating and figure skating coaching

not even in the NHL and already annoyed with media as he's predicted to go high in the draft

he'll learn to pass and play defense eventually