#physical therapy fic

[cuubism]

i went to physical therapy for my stupid broken arm so as is my legal obligation i HAD to make ship content about it. everything is ship content that's how it is

cw injury, referenced abusive relationships

--

Hob's had plenty of clients come to physical therapy who clearly don't want to be there. Plenty of others who are reasonably frustrated by the work and time involved in regaining functioning after an injury. But this is the first time he's just had someone be... quiet. Resigned.

Dream sits with his hand cradled to his chest, barely speaking, only answering when Hob asks a direct question. He's reluctant to give Hob his hand when Hob asks if he can look at it, like he thinks Hob's grip is a bear trap that will snap down and crush the bones like whatever had done so the first time. Hob still doesn't know what that was. All he knows is the bones have been realigned and healed over but the dexterity in his hand still isn't right. That was what Dream had said, in the first spark of passion Hob had heard from him. It's not right.

But he does eventually give his hand over. His bones are so fine and delicate, and each movement hesitant. Cautious. Hob tests the flexibility. The strength. Dream is right, it's not where it should be. He still doesn't know what happened.

"I won't make you tell me if you really don't want to," Hob says gently. "But it is important to know how it happened to make sure we rehab it the right way. Did you get it caught in something? I've seen guys come in with machine injuries like that."

Nothing about Dream suggests "person who works with heavy machinery." But who knows. Hob will try not to stereotype.

"No," Dream says quietly, looking down and away from his hand like he can't bear to see it. "I. I am an artist. My ex... he felt that I cared more about my art than about him. Perhaps I did. And he was... frustrated. I suppose."

Hob can put the rest of the pieces together in his mind. "Jesus," he breathes, and Dream flinches.

"I have an unfortunate ability to involve myself with such people," he says.

"No, it's not your fault," Hob says automatically.

Dream narrows his eyes. "You presume to know that?"

Hob raises his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I won't pry." He's not Dream's therapist. His job is to help him with his hand, not... whatever else is going on in his life.

He takes Dream's hand carefully between both of his own again. Presses down lightly on his knuckles. "So. Crushed. Like that?"

Dream nods. Hob still doesn't know all the details, but he's imagining a boot going down hard on the top of Dream's hand. The thought is sickening.

"Can you fix it?" Dream asks, like he doesn't dare to hope.

"Well, you already had it repaired surgically, yeah?" Hob says. This strikes him as a bit of good luck--hand fractures are not simple--but he doesn't want to undercut Dream's confidence even further by saying so. He's usually pretty good at reading his clients, and he's already sensing that Dream is holding onto his determination to be here at all by the barest thread. Best to build him up as much as possible. "So it's just a matter of strengthening the muscles again."

He's fairly confident he can get him back to a usual level of functioning with it. The question is whether he can return him to the specific level of dexterity he needs for his art. He doesn't say that. Not yet.

Finally, he gets the tiniest of smiles out of Dream. He's really lovely when he smiles.

(He's pretty when he doesn't smile, too. Hob would have to be blind not to notice it.)

"So," Hob says. "Let's look at the current range of motion, yeah?"

Dream tilts his head. "Did you not already do so?"

"For regular motion, yeah. But I want to see where it's impacting your drawing."

Dream draws his hand back, looking uncertain.

"Come on." Hob hands him a pen and paper. "Show me. I promise I know nothing about art. If it's not up to your usual standards, I'm not going to be able to tell."

Finally, Dream takes the pen, and starts sketching.

Hob watches, noting the way his hand trembles, his uneven grip on the pen. Notes how quickly he gets demoralized when it doesn't turn out the way he wants. Hob can make out what he's written and drawn, but it's clear from Dream's expression that it's far from how it's supposed to be.

"This is just a starting point," Hob reminds him. He has a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of those sorts of reminders with Dream; he does not seem to find optimism easy.

Then again, if someone who supposedly loved him had hurt him like that, Hob would probably find optimism a bit difficult, too.

Finally, Dream drops the pen, clearly frustrated. "I have tried to paint at home, too. It has not turned out any better. You should throw those away." He gestures to the sketches. "They are terrible."

"Nah, I'm gonna keep them," Hob says, and puts them in his folder. "For comparison later." It could also partially be because he finds Dream's drawings of cats, imperfect as they are, charming. Sue him.

"As you insist," Dream says.

Hob gives him documentation on some other exercises he can do at home. Tries to think through what might make him feel better with his art. It feels, somehow, so important to make him feel better.

"At home, go easy on trying to use a pen, or paintbrush or whatever, it's hard on your hand," he finally says. "But you probably want to get back to your art, so-- okay, don't make fun of me if this is stupid."

Dream just raises an eyebrow, waiting.

Maybe Hob should try to learn more about art before he gives advice. Nevertheless, he forges on. "Holding a pen is tough, but if you wanted to like, finger paint or something? That would probably be fine. Might be good for flexibility, even."

"Finger paint," Dream repeats, enunciating each word.

"I told you not to make fun of me if it was stupid."

Dream smiles, just a small thing, like he finds Hob ridiculous but in a charming way. Good enough, Hob figures.

"Very well," Dream says at last. "I will take your advice."

Dream simply walking out had felt like a distinct possibility, so Hob will take this as a win.

"Hey," he says later, catching Dream for a moment as he's checking him out. "It's going to get better, yeah? Trust me. Don't worry too hard, just give it time."

He really shouldn't make promises like that. But he can't seem to help it, with Dream.

Dream considers, then says. "I do trust you."

Hob finds that it means a lot. Now he's just going to have to earn it.

[mugwot]

cult of the funky little guy funny interaction from The Rehabilitation of Death by @bamsara also some lamb design thoughts

glow up of the century

[lrosenerds]

AU where Wen Qing is Wei Wuxian's unofficial physical therapist (he couldn't afford one otherwise). Most recently messed up in a motorcycle accident, he also has various old injuries from being a teenage hooligan.

So Wei Wuxian is complaining to Jiang Cheng in public somewhere, like a café or a dining hall, like, "Wen Qing is so mean to me! I'm so sore! Look, is my shoulder bruised? It feels bruised."

And Jiang Cheng says something snarky and dismissive, like, "You deserve this."

And Lan Wangji overhears only parts of this conversation and comes to his own alarming conclusions.

So the next day Lan Wangji tells Wei Wuxian that he has something very important to talk to him about. He sounds so serious that Wei Wuxian is like, "Sure, buddy. Your place?"

Wei Wuxian doesn't know what to expect, but definitely not for Lan Wangji to haltingly but determinedly start talking about how Wei Wuxian deserves to be safe, and it's okay to ask for help, and men in relationships can be abused by women partners, too, and it's important not to be ashamed and to utilize the resources available.

He pushes a bunch of pamphlets across the table at Wei Wuxian and adds earnestly, "I know your family situation is complicated, so if you need somewhere to go you can stay with me."

And Wei Wuxian is so stunned and horrified that Lan Wanghi thinks Wen Qing is his abusive girlfriend, but also so, so happy that Lan Wangji cares so much about him! He brought pamphlets and everything!!

And when Lan Wangji explains that he overheard Wei Wuxian talking to Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian starts laughing and explains, "No no no, Wen Qing is my physical therapist, she isn't abusing me, I'm just a crybaby whiner! We live together but we're definitely not dating!!"

And before Lan Wangji can get too embarrassed Wei Wuxian calms down and says, "But like hey, I'm so touched you care about me and wanted to help me, like even if you kind of hate me you're still such a good person."

Cue Lan Wangji's, "I've never hated you, I've criticized your behavior in the past because you put yourself in danger and get hurt."

And of course they start dating soon, and when Lan Wangji finally meets Wen Qing he brings her favorite food as apology, and Wen Qing forgives him. (His cooking is really good. And also she's secretly-not-so-secretly glad that Wei Wuxian has such a good person to take care of him and keep him safe and happy.)

(Anyway this is what happens when I'm bored at physical therapy I guess lol)

[blindmagdalena]

Apologize if you’ve fielded an ask or twenty about this before, but how do you think HL would take it if Vought hired a masseuse to come in to work on him once in a while. Is he touch-starved or touch-averse? or both lol? Is he averse to having to take his top off? Since his muscles probably don’t actually get sore from anything does he pretend they do to get certain types of contact? - 🥰

i do think he's both touch-starved and touch-averse! every so often the idea comes up that there isn't any good reason Homelander isn't regularly drowning in physical affection/sex given how rabid of a fanbase he has, and i think that comes down to several factors:

his brand! it doesn't fit his brand to be sleeping around, especially with fans. i'm willing to bet this was strongly discouraged by Madelyn, along with any other "deviant" behaviors.

his deadly combo of superiority/inferiority complex. from the first episode, Homelander doesn't care about human life. even though he craves the general concept of love and approval on a mass scale, individual lives simply don't matter to him. they're beneath him, and he has a pretty high level of disgust towards people. he doesn't like touching them without his gloves.

i headcanon Homelander to be demisexual. i really don't think he experiences the desire to be touched by specific people unless the person in question has elevated themselves in some way in his mind, or he's formed SOME level of an emotional connection/dependency, even if it's completely one sided/imaginary.

absolutely his body issues are a factor. barely seems to like getting naked with partners, let alone strangers.

when i wrote Eat Your Ego, it didn't matter that he sought her out as an escort. he still entered that encounter hostile until he could find something in his twisted psyche to elevate a human enough to deem them worthy of touching him. the sequence of events in my mind was more or less: step 1, initial physical attraction. step 2, projection. step 3, antagonize/determine worth. step 4, form an abrupt and unhealthy attachment based solely on delusion and wish fulfilment. step 5, profit??? live happily ever after?? still figuring that part out.

i feel like the same would apply to this situation. he definitely WANTS tactile comfort. he likes the idea of someone touching him with the sole intent of bringing him pleasure/helping him relax, even in a non-sexual context. but if he was put in some situation where he was directly told to have a massage for some reason and he did comply, he would be a huge asshole about it until he settled into it. like a cat who wants to be pet but keeps swatting and hissing every time you try because he's so damaged.

once he was settled though? that's HIS masseuse now. daily sessions. he's their only client.

[takami-takami]

I am putting my heart soul and entire pussy into this slowburn fic. It genuinely has become a project, like, my therapist is hearing about this one yall.

[keistance]

society if dc fans and creatives remembered tim drake was an over the top asshole

[altschmerzes]

i feel like it's really extremely typical of Gav Altschmerzes that in the later timeline of the torture fic 'mac gets really into baseball and that is an actual component of his trauma recovery' is a legitimate plot point and consistent Thing. it truly does not get more specifically Me than that.

[uefb]

Sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing I can escape into writing Scamander brother repartee. (18k words from the current posted point in Head Under One Wing…)

[k-evans-reads]

On Deck Sneak Peek

Main Masterlist l On Deck Masterlist

Chris took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his bare skin and the small content sighs coming from his girl next to him before he slowly said, “You know, I think I’m a little bit offended at what you said earlier.”

Sam propped her head on her hand as she turned to look at him, a single eyebrow raising in confusion. “What did I say?”

“You said that because of that massage, your body had never felt that amazing,” he reminded her, but before she could get more confused he began to smirk. “Because I was thinking last night would have been in the running.”

Sam laughed with a shake of her head and leaned back in the lounger next to him, knocking her lanky elbow against his hip. “Well I could still walk this morning so apparently it wasn’t that good.”

On Deck posts on Sunday at 3pm EST! 🥳

[cuubism]

more physical therapy au

--

Dream comes to his next physical therapy appointment marginally--marginally--less apprehensive than before. When he'd first gone, he'd expected to be told he was being melodramatic. That he should just be grateful that the surgery was successful and he has some functioning. That he should just give up on his art, that it didn't matter, that it was hopeless.

He doesn't know why he thought that. It's been hard to have a charitable view of people, lately.

But Hob wasn't like what he feared. Hob was... kind. To him.

So he goes back.

He has, in fact, been doing the exercises that Hob gave him. It is not as though he has much else to do with his time. Other than setting up his new flat, where he now lives after fleeing what had once been his home. Even a few months later, the place is fairly... minimalist. Which is not Dream's style. But he'd left with little more than his art portfolio and the clothes he was wearing, deciding that it wasn't worth going back, and he hasn't had the energy to replace anything since.

Or the two functioning arms required to move things.

His flat is depressing enough that even the physical therapy office feels warm and welcoming by comparison. Hob gives him a big smile as he comes in. It's pathetic that it makes his heart flutter.

He goes over to Hob, setting the folder he brought on the table.

"You look cheerful," Hob notes. Dream highly, highly doubts that. But he is perhaps slightly less morose than last time. Nevertheless, he finds Hob's optimism... somewhat cheering. Normally, he would find such a thing annoying. But there is something very steady and reassuring about Hob. Not much in Dream's life has felt steady in some time.

"I have tried finger painting," Dream tells him. He takes the piece out of the folder and shows it to Hob.

It had been interesting, at least. Distracted him for a moment. Made him think about the way children make art, before becoming mired in theory and technique.

He had considered bringing one of his usual pieces to demonstrate to Hob what he's meant to be able to do, in case that would be helpful, but it's still painful to look at them.

Hob takes the painting and stares at it with wide eyes. "How is this actually good?"

Dream should probably be offended by his incredulity but instead he just finds it amusing. "I had lots of time to spend."

He has, once again, painted a bunch of cats, all different colors, cluttering the page. It's simple, and lets him avoid thinking about his more conceptual pieces he hasn't been able to work on.

"Wow," Hob says, propping the painting carefully against the wall by his computer. "Okay. Good work going above and beyond on the instructions, Dream."

That praise alone shouldn't make something in his chest start glowing. But it does.

"It did not hurt... much," he says tentatively, before Hob can ask. "However, with a brush..."

It is incredibly frustrating. It's like his body continually wishes to betray him. He's lost his home and everything he owns and now he cannot even have his art.

"Give it some time," Hob says, reasonably. He is much more patient, and optimistic, than Dream.

He makes Dream draw and write again. It's... perhaps marginally easier after the exercises Hob had given him. Still, he finds himself getting frustrated by the weakness of his grip. And the more frustrated he gets, the tighter he grips the pencil. He knows he shouldn't. But.

"Lighter," Hob tells him, and Dream glares at him. Hob raises his hands. "Not telling you how to do your art. Just telling you how not to hurt your hand."

Dream bites down on his annoyance, but loosens his grip.

He doesn't see very much progress, but Hob seems satisfied. He makes Dream run through some other strengthening exercises, which... don't hurt as much as Dream was expecting them to. He'd expected that this whole process would be nothing but gritting his teeth through agonizing pain, to minimal results. Perhaps Death is right, and he should be less pessimistic.

In any case, Hob seems proud of him at the end. Even if Dream doesn't think he's done anything to be proud of.

But he does leave, perhaps, slightly more hopeful than he entered. And he wants to come back. At least to see Hob again.

~~

Hob doesn't know if it's patronizing to be proud of Dream, but he is. Over the last few sessions, his grip has improved a lot. Dream doesn't seem to see it, but that's alright. Hob does. He's been keeping all of Dream's drawings. They are getting better.

Hob is pretty good at optimism. But even so, it somehow hadn't occurred to him that quiet and morose wasn't Dream's natural state. That is until he sees the joy that lights up in him the first time he's able to draw a cat without his hand shaking. Dream smiles so wide, like he isn't even aware Hob is still watching him, and Hob realizes that there is lightness to him. It's just been buried down.

The time after that, Dream even brings some of his old art to show. Hob's been dying to see it for ages, but hasn't pressed. And Dream's art is gorgeous. Hob can understand, now, why he'd been dissatisfied with those first cats he'd drawn, no matter how charming Hob had found them. His big pieces are so finely detailed, so precise. It's... possibly going to take a bit more time to get him back to that than Hob had thought. But he's determined.

But Dream seems happy to be sharing his art, doesn't fold in on himself this time just to mention it. He talks with enthusiasm about his process, the most words Hob's heard him say in... well, ever. Hob tells him that he's made enough progress to pick up painting--with brush, not fingers--again if he wants, but not to beat himself up if it doesn't look the same as his old ones. And for once, it seems like Dream actually accepts the instruction not to berate himself.

All of this is, most certainly, the reason Hob does the insane thing he does next.

He's organizing his records, having already walked Dream out, when he hears raised voices from out on the walkway. The front door is still open a crack, he realizes, so the sound carries.

"Come on, you're overreacting," says an unfamiliar, male voice. "I said I won't do it again, didn't I?"

"Do not," Dream replies, voice anxious, but determined, "follow me."

"Well if you'd just pick up your phone--"

Hob steps outside. An unfamiliar man--the ex-boyfriend, Hob assumes, he doesn't know his name, hasn't asked, doesn't care--has Dream cornered in the doorway. His posture doesn't immediately scream rage or aggression, which is more unnerving rather than less, considering this is the same person who'd snapped and broken Dream's hand.

And Dream looks scared. Under the mask of stoicism he likes to wear. Any cheer or hope he'd gained from today's session has evaporated, and he looks like he did before, when he'd first come to Hob's office, curled in on himself. It breaks Hob's heart. And makes him angry.

"Stop being selfish and just--" the ex-boyfriend continues. Hob means to cut in and diffuse the situation. Tell him to leave in a reasonably professional manner.

Instead he punches him in the face.

Ex-boyfriend's nose goes crunch in an extremely satisfying way, and he reels back with a shriek, hands going to his face. Dream startles back, hands clutched around his art portfolio.

"What the FUCK!" yells ex-boyfriend, voice nasally from the blood running down his face. "You can't just-- this is assault! I'll call the cops!"

Oh he wants to go there, does he? "You wanna talk about assault?" Hob says, voice rising in volume. Dream edges behind him, though Hob's not sure he's fully aware he's doing so. "You want to get police involved, that's really what you want?"

Ex-boyfriend looks from Hob to Dream and back, hesitating. That's fucking right, Hob thinks. Not so easy to kick someone around when there's consequences, huh?

It helps that Hob is visibly stronger than Dream, and spends all day physically moving people around. If ex-boyfriend tries anything he's going to get put on the ground.

Finally he retreats, though with a look of rage towards Hob. Once he's gone, Dream finally seems to relax, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.

"You did not need to," he murmurs.

Hob shakes his head. "No one gets to come and threaten you here. Particularly not that dickhead."

Dream huffs a small laugh. Then he picks up Hob's hand, studying it. Hob winces. It's certainly going to bruise.

"Now you will need physical therapy," Dream says, lips twitching. Hob's glad for the humor in his voice.

Hob laughs. "Worth it."

"No one has..." Dream starts, slowly, "done something like that. For me."

It hurts, to think that no one's stood up for him. Or even let him know that someone should stand up for him.

"If he comes back I'll do it again," Hob says, and gets a tentative smile from Dream.

Then asks, "Does he know where you live?"

Dream frowns. "I do not think so."

"Want me to walk you home?"

He doubts Dream's ex-boyfriend will come back to the office now that he knows Hob's willing to deck him, but that doesn't mean he won't try to corner Dream elsewhere.

Dream deliberates, then says, "Would you?"

"'Course, love. Just let me lock the place up."

He doesn't realize what he's said until he's already turned back to lock the door. Shit. Today has already gone so far beyond what he's supposed to do as Dream's physical therapist, and now...

In the end, Dream doesn't call him out on it. But he does stick close to Hob's side as they walk, and occasionally when Hob looks over at him, he catches a tiny smile on his face.

[thatonebirdwrites]

BOOK 3.5: Chapter 29: in which Katara Reassesses Asami

Asami is still dealing with the consequences of her actions. This chapter focuses more on that and the physical therapy the two still need. Also shows the impact of Asami's suit on her body.

A lot of the physical therapy I describe is stuff I did in my own recovery from my right side being partially paralyzed. I had to relearn my right side and how to walk. So I pull from that for this scene.

EXCERPT:

Before Asami met Korra, before her father turned out to be a terrorist, Asami Sato’s dreams were relatively tame. It was simply to find a friend that she could be herself with, that wouldn’t mind her more nerdy side. That would listen to her ramble about engineering, that would hike with her up a mountain just to smell the mountain air. 

A rather huge ask for those in the higher echelons of society. It was one of the many reasons Asami had loved going to Pro-bending matches. She could disappear at them, where she wasn’t seen as the daughter of Hiroshi Sato, but as just another spectator. There she would draw her designs, sometimes draw the players and their positions, and speculate using math and physics on different ways to improve the game. 

Running into Mako after a fight with her father had shifted her life into a new lane. Choosing to side with Korra had altered it yet again. Each decision made, each alteration to her life’s path — she’d walked it in the Beyond. How she’d fallen into the role of the Avatar’s Mirror, became her girlfriend, and walked a path so far removed from her original dreams that she felt like an entirely different person. 

And yet, here she stood with crutches outside Katara’s home, quietly panicking about the check-up. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know how badly she’d backslid in her recovery. She’d fought against the likes of Amon, her own father, Unalaq, and Zaheer -- yet, entering a healer’s hut was what defeated her finally. 

“You’ll freeze to death if you stand there much longer,” Korra said. She tilted her head to study Asami, a slight frown on her face. “Thought you hated the cold.” 

Asami managed a weak smile. She did actually. Even with all her layers, she was still cold. 

Senna had driven them to the healer’s hut, and she’d pushed Korra up to the door. “Are you all right?” She scanned Asami’s body as a trained healer. “Any pain?”

Asami shrugged, not yet trusting her voice. 

[yandere-monoma]

kym update thoughts because there were too many things to fit in the authors notes:

did you know, realistically, being in a coma for only a week can easily require over a year of physical therapy. god i have thoughts about this

[daandori]

another day of my mom telling me no one will ever love me ✌️

[clone-medic-patch]

Summary:

Hardcase thought he knew what he was getting into, sacrificing himself for his brothers. What he didn’t expect was to survive, for Fives to pull him away from the explosions and bring him back down to Umbara. He definitely didn’t expect to be refused medical treatment and to be left fighting for his life. Kix says it’s going to be a long road to recovery, and he’s starting to wonder what “recovery” even looks like after something like this...

[howaboutalittlehelpneos]

My only flaw is that I never actually finish a story that I'm writing, but still want to post the best and juciest bits of writing I have managed to produce for immediate validation