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jagerstian · 1 year

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Reluctant animal lover Zach my beloved <3

"So, that's it then?"

"Yup."

"You're quitting."

"Mhm."

"You don't succeed one time, so you're giving up?"

"Bingo."

Zach refused to look at Chris. For someone so open about being touchy-feely, Chris wasn't very good at empathizing with him. Sure, he'd had failed inventions and evil schemes before in the past that he didn't let drag him down, but those were different. They were half-assed, get-rich-quick schemes made up on a whim. Besides, the Wild Ratts had been working against Zach all those times. Now, when they're working with him, and he's giving it his all, and he still fails? That's worse. That's bad. This failure actually meant something. This proved it, that he wasn't good enough even when he tried. That's why he hated trying. You can never disappoint if you never actually try. Chris didn't get it. Zach called it a strategy, Chris called it an unhealthy coping mechanism. Tomato tomahto.

'What do you know, anyways? You hug trees for fun.'

'Maybe. But which one of us is actually happy?'

'.... I'm happy.'

'... Sure. And I'm a monkey's uncle.'

'You might be, for all I know. I still don't know how those creature power suits work.'

'Zach?'

'Yes?'

'Shut up.'

He zoned back in, Chris's voice droning on, going in one ear and out the other. Something about 'perseverance' and 'anything worth doing is worth working hard for'. Or something. He didn't know, he wasn't really listening. There wasn't any point, he wasn't gonna try being a goody-two-shoes again. He heaved himself up from his chair with a sigh, shuffling his way to the makeshift area the crew had made for him in the Tortuga.

Chris's mouth closed softly as he watched Zach move across the room, appalled. Who did this brat think he was?

He stormed over to Zach, who was crouched over, packing his bags.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Packing."

"Well, stop."

Zach gave him a side eye from his low angle.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"My house, my rules."

Zach scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"You aren't my dad. And even if you were, this isn't a house."

Chris scowled down at him as he continued packing, arms crossed. A devilish grin began snaking its way across his face. He waited until Zach was reaching for one of his items still strewn about, then snatched the closest bag up and booked it. Zach looked after him in shock.

"Did- did you just steal my bag?"

"If you want it back, you'll have to catch me! What're you waiting for? Come get your stuff, Captain Emo!"

Zach made a noise of indignation, even as he scrambled to his feet and took off after Chris.

Chris had a pretty decent head start on Zach, and he planned on using it to his advantage. He hopped on a Buzz Bike and shot down the ramp, kicking up dust clouds as he zoomed away into the wilderness.

Zach whipped his head around, frantically searching for a vehicle he actually knew how to drive. His gaze fell upon an old mountain bike, half covered by an old sheet. He groaned. He gave one last once-over of all the vehicles stored in the space, but there were none he knew how to work, or had the keys for. He was stuck with the bike. He ripped the sheet off of it, a cloud of dust billowing up around him, making him cough. He kind of hoped he got some kind of weird lung disease, just so he could spite Chris and blame him for it. He threw a leg over and tentatively sat on the cushioned seat. It was admittedly a very nice bike, but that wasn't the problem. No, the problem was Zach hated bike riding, and he was a little rusty. Whatever, that's something you never forget how to do, right? Isn't that what people said?

He pushed off, starting to roll slowly toward the ramp. He was suddenly not so sure this was a good idea and was about to turn around, when the front wheel slipped over the edge. The bike flew down the ramp and launched Zach down the path Chris had taken, Zach screaming the whole way.

It was a bumpy ride at first, the "path" having been made by the crew, leading from the Tortuga to the actual path. Once Zach merged onto the main trail, it smoothed out, and was actually a pretty pleasant ride. He wasn't a fan, but he didn't hate it, either. After a few minutes of peaceful gliding, he passed a varmint that seemed to be struggling. He rode by for a few feet before coming to a stop, grumbling to himself.

"Since when did I get so soft."

He hopped off the bike and turned around to see what all the commotion was about. It was a squirrel trying to get to a nut. It had been placed under a glass cup, within the squirrel's view, but too heavy for it to tip over.

Zach ignored the anger that flared up at the sight. He lifted the cup, and the squirrel snatched the nut before scampering off up a tree. He scowled. Ungrateful rat.

Hopping back on the bike, he continued on down the path. Before too long, he came across another critter in trouble. A bird this time, crying from up in a tree. A nest lay in the ground beneath the tree. Zach didn't hesitate to stop this time, simply popping off and picking up the nest. Looking up the tree, he scowled. He would have to climb it. Luckily it was a fairly easy tree to climb, and even he managed it without incident. He placed the nest in a secure-looking nook, and climbed back down. His hands and clothes were a little dirty, and his cheeks were flushed slightly from the exertion, but he was satisfied. He didn't know why he felt satisfied, it's not like he cared or anything. He continued on his way, peddling a little faster in an attempt to escape the notion of him having a heart as big as one of the Wild Kratts crew.

The last creature he encountered was when he was nearing the end of the path. A kitten in a tree. It was crying and meowing like its life depended on it. As far as Zach knew, its life did depend on it. He didn't know much about varmints. He rushed over to the tree. It wasn't too high up, the branch about three feet higher than he was.

'That's not so high, but to such a little thing it must seem scary.'

"Ok, Varmint, I'm gonna help you. But only because you're clearly incapable of helping yourself."

He lifted his hands up.

"Don't be scared, I'll lift you down. But if you scratch me, I will drop you."

The kitten had stopped meowing and eyed him warily. It looked Zach in the eye, sincerely shining past his frown. The kitten sniffed his hands before gingerly placing one paw on them, and then another. It fit in his delicate hands comfortably, a little ball of purring fluff. He lowered his arms and held it to his chest, feeling its purrs as it rubbed its head against him.

"Huh. You're… not so bad, really. I mean-", he quickly clarified. "You're not bad, but that doesn't mean I like you. You're still a varmint, and I'm still a bad guy."

The kitten mewled in response before wriggling a bit, indicating it was ready to be put down. Zach released it and it strutted behind him. He turned around to watch it go, and was met with Chris smiling at him.

"Zach Varmitech, what was that?"

His face flushed furiously.

"Nothing! It was nothing! You didn't see shit, Wild Ratt!"

"That wasn't nothing, that was you helping an animal! And you did that one all on your own that time! That's amazing!"

"... what do you mean I did 'that one' all on my own?"

Chris rubbed his neck sheepishly.

"I maybe pretended to be that squirrel. And Martin was maybe the bird."

Zach stared at him blankly. Martin emerged from the foliage and stood beside Chris.

"We just wanted you to feel better! We wanted to prove to you that you can be good, even if you mess up sometimes." He said.

"Turns out, you didn't need us to help you do that. You did it all on your own, with this little guy." He bent down and picked up the kitten, scratching it behind the ears. "He wasn't part of the plan at all." Chris finished.

Zach looked at the kitten, then at Chris. Chris cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So, what do you say? Will you give it another try?"

"We all want you here, Zach. Especially Chris", Martin said with a shit-eating grin. Chris punched him in the shoulder.

"One slip up isn't gonna change that." Chris finished.

Zach sighed.

"Fine. But only so you'll quit lecturing me about it."

The two brothers whooped in victory, high-fiving for officiality.

"Now that mission is accomplished, let's go back to the Tortuga. I'm starving", Martin said. "You two can share a spaghetti plate, 'Lady and the Tramp' style", he sniggered.

Zach tried to hide how many butterflies had been stirred up in his gut.

"You're insufferable."

"Yeah, you're the worst and I will kick you in the shins", Chris said, setting the kitten down to scamper back over to Zach. Chris motioned for him to follow them.

"C'mon, Captain Emo, let's get some lunch."

"Ha ha, very funny. Give me back my bag."

Chris began walking off with Martin, pretending he hadn't heard Zach.

"Hey! Give me back my bag, Chris! I swear I'll-"

He chased after him, Chris looking over his shoulder and yelping before taking off, Zach yelling after him.

"What's yours is his! It's in the wedding vows!" Martin yelled after them.

They yelled back simultaneously.

"Shut up!"

#the 'failure' in question #Zach killed a bug without thinking about it #and it made the bros kind of sad #and that my friends #gave Zach a mental breakdown /hj #also i don't really like this a lot #i think i hate the way i write a little #but oh well #wk #wild kratts #chris kratt #martin kratt #zach varmitech #fanfic #chrizach #kind of #martin being a true bro

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

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in support of Black Lives Matter, @petitgateau911 donated $25, and requested weecest first time. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

They’re just outside Wheeling, and Dad’s been gone for twenty-four days, and it’s friggin’ cold outside but it’s going to be 1999 in an hour, and Sammy’s--

“Dude, are you drunk?” Dean says.

“No,” Sam says, with affronted dignity. He puts his beer down in the snow and stands on one leg, easy balance. “See. You’re drunk.”

“Sure thing, squirt,” Dean says, laughing, and Sam grins at him in a total unexpected bloom out of nowhere, and it warms his gut just as much as the bonfire’s doing. It’s not much of a New Year’s Eve, but he’s got himself with no broken bones, and he’s got Sammy smiling, and Dad’s in the wind but they’ve got a twelve-pack and bottle of five-buck champagne waiting and a fire, out back of the trailer, and things aren’t all right with the world but, shit, Dean’s known them of a hell of a lot more wrong, so. He lifts his beer in a little toast, to Sam’s balance and to the world in general, and kicks his boots out into the snow. “You let me know if we’re up too far past your bedtime.”

Sam sticks his tongue out, kinda proving Dean’s point, but hell. He’s cheerful, which can get in short supply most days. No school to miss, with everything closed for the winter break, and Dad’s top-secret-no-sons-allowed hunt’s been keeping the boat unrocked, since Dad pretty much just calls Dean every few days to check in as proof of life, and so it’s just been them, and the woods out here, and the trailer. No job in this town, but Dad left enough cash that they’re floated for a while, and Christmas was pretty lame but Dean made a mega-batch of brownies from a box mix that turned out pretty good and Sam nearly ate his weight in ‘em, and there was enough cash left in Dean’s budget to do New Year’s right. Sammy’s even unbent enough to have some drinks, which frankly Dean’s surprised didn’t take more wheedling, but Sam shrugged and said, “It’s traditional, right?” and Dean could’ve just hugged him, but he settled for a noogie instead.

Sam’s still insisting on his sobriety. Dean can’t stop laughing, from his tree-stump that’s serving as a seat. “Shut up, watch,” Sam says, and does the whole rigamarole of the DUI stop to prove it. Walks a straight line, and stands on one foot, and recites the alphabet backwards while touching his nose. “See?”

“Sammy, how the hell do you know all that stuff?” Dean says. “You drunk-driving when I’m not around?”

He keeps holding his balance, looking up at the dark sky with his finger still on his nose. “DARE class, when we were in New Mexico,” Sam says, and finally drops the stance, shrugging. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to be good at it, just in case.”

Just in case. Dean’s little brother, ladies and gents. “You’re such a freak,” Dean says, glad, and Sam rolls his eyes but stumps over through the snow in his too-big boots, shaking his empty can. “Oh, and now you want a refill?”

“How long until we can open the champagne?” Sam says, practical, and Dean checks his watch. 47 minutes. “So, beer,” Sam says, and Dean shrugs, and gives him one.

“All right, short stuff,” Dean says, getting to his feet. He really is getting kinda tipsy--five beers to Sam’s two, that’s maybe understandable. “One thing about being a Winchester--you gotta hold your liquor.” Sam snorts, which Dean ignores. “Second thing, though, is that no matter what, you gotta be able to handle yourself. No matter what.”

“You said no matter what twice,” Sam says, helpfully, and Dean tugs his hat down over his face.

“So,” Dean says, and hops inside for their pistols, and a box of rounds. When he comes back out into the cold Sam’s resettled his hat and his face is pink and his eyes bright, and Dean does hug him then, a one-armed sling around his neck that makes Sam squawk but drags him all warm and bony up into Dean’s side, and then Dean drags them to the other side of the bonfire, where the light starts to fade as the trees encroach on the yard. The fence is kinda falling apart, but it’s steady enough to hold their empties.

Dean sets it up while Sam’s making skeptical-face. “You’re making me do training now?” Sam says, and Dean jumps back over through the deeper snow, crunching into the holes he already made. “Dude, this is lame.”

“Dude, it’s gonna be great,” Dean says, “because check it out: every can you take out, you get to take a drink!”

Sam sighs, like he’s aggravated, but he’s just being fifteen, because he’s grinning right after. Dean stands a pace behind him while he loads, professional, checking his weapon right just like Dean taught him--and he lines up, skinny shoulders square, and sights along his strong arm just like he’s supposed to. Shot--whipcrack sound that ricochets through the clearing--and-- “Yes!” Dean says, punching Sam’s shoulder, and he grabs their beers and toasts Sam, clunking the cans together, and even Sam going wait, you don’t get to drink yet! doesn’t dim Dean’s cheer.

“Okay,” Dean says, waggling his eyebrows, “my turn,” and Sam squints at him thoughtfully and then stoops and flings at handful of snow at Dean just as he’s lining up to fire, and he sputters and the shot goes wild into a tree, and he yells “Dude!”, scraping snow off his face, but Sam’s dancing backwards, laughing, saying, “Hey, you never said that was against the rules!” and oh, it is on.

Snowball fights aren’t supposed to involve gunfire, Dean’s pretty sure, but sometimes the Winchesters play on different rules than other people. All bets are off after Dean dumps a handful of snow down Sammy’s jeans when he’s aiming for his next can, and Sam’s girly-ass scream could probably be heard down at city hall. Dean makes his next shot even with Sam jumping around behind him making crazy monkey noises, and he drains his beer that time, and watches Sammy do the same. There’s a brief stand-off when Dean’s got two snowballs packed and ready, tossing them back and forth between his gloved hands, and Sam keeps watching him instead of raising his pistol to fire--solved when Sam raises--Dean throws--Sam immediately ducks and rolls forward in the snow, and fires closer--and totally misses, but Dean’s so impressed at the shitty attempt at ninjahood that he says Sam earned a drink anyway, and before long they’re laying on the ground, laughing and breathless, the cans all shot and the beer mostly gone, things pretty much perfect.

“How long,” Sam says, and Dean checks his watch.

“Eight minutes,” he says. Sam hums, sits up. He’s still got on his hat, somehow, but his nose is bright pink with cold. “Damn, kiddo. You’re gonna turn into a popsicle.”

Eyeroll, very obvious over Sam’s shoulder. “You’re the one who’s not wearing a hat,” he says, and Dean shrugs. Some things are just too dorky. When Sam’s a little older he’ll know it. “Anyway, whose fault is it that I’ve got snow in my boxers.”

“Um, yours,” Dean says, and Sam raises his eyebrows outraged and Dean says, “Hey, you started it, squirt,” and Sam says, “Only because you cheated first!” and Dean scoops a little clump of snow up and tosses it at Sam’s head, and Sam squawks and launched a full out tackle at Dean, and it’s on, yet again.

Sam’s wriggly and he’s got the bony elbows, but Dean still has five inches on him and the reach to match, and also he’s been fighting dirty way longer. He gets Sam pinned in pretty short order, an armbar over his chest and Dean grinning down into his face, and Sam puffs in irritation but then melts back into the ground--Sam’s special way of losing where somehow he tries to make it seem like it was always his idea, and he doesn’t care, anyway. “Uncle?” Dean says, and Sam says, “Whatever,” and Dean roll his eyes but sits up, straddling Sam just in case he tries anything else, and checks his watch again.

“Hey, one minute!” he says. “Got any resolutions planned?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, quiet. Different, to his usual moody Sam-ness, and Dean frowns, looks at him. His face is still all pink, nose and cheeks and what Dean can see of his ears where his hat’s not tugged down, and he doesn’t look--sad, or anything. Sam licks his lips, looks back at him like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know how to get it out.

“What?” Dean says, and Sam’s mouth twitches, and then he grabs Dean by the lapels of his leather jacket and pulls him down, and kisses him.

Dean catches himself with one hand in the snow to stop from toppling forward. He hovers there, shocked, and Sam--Sam holds on tight, presses their lips clumsily together. Like he has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s determined to do it anyway. “Sam,” Dean mumbles, brain still not quite together, and Sam huffs against his mouth and kisses him again, this weird smoochy noise that makes it really click in Dean’s head--Sam, kissing him. Sammy, kissing him. He blinks, pushes up, and Sam lets him go, back in the snow, face bright red and his mouth set like he knows he’s lost a bet but is determined not to care.

“Sammy,” Dean says. Everything’s static, two-am test pattern in his head.

Sam looks at him, then at the fire. “Midnight,” he says, and Dean glances at his watch to see that--yeah, jesus, it’s midnight, happy 1999, and Sammy fucking kissed him in the snow and that’s not--

“I just wanted to,” Sam says, quiet. Dean sits there, uncertain. “Just one thing, for me. Doesn’t have to be a big deal, Dean.”

“It doesn’t?” Dean says, and Sam gets redder somehow, his face all washed-out warm in the firelight, and Dean thinks--just one thing. For him. For all those days and days of curling up on the fold-out together and elbowing each other through Escape from LA and Sam falling asleep in the curve of Dean’s arm, that time, and Dean touching his cheek and thinking--wondering--

“Can we open the champagne?” Sam says, fake cheerful, pressing his hands down against the ground to squirm backwards, to get away, and Dean leans down and kisses him right--full contact, spreading himself over Sam’s body, a hand on Sam’s cheek and pressing Sam’s mouth open, wet touch of beery heat and Sam full-on gasps against Dean like a girl having her first time, and Dean pulls back for a second, turned upside down, inside out. Sam shudders, grabs at him, says his name.

“Sammy,” Dean says back, and then, weird and raw, “you never did this before?”

Sam stares at him, four inches away. Shakes his head, and the ends of his hair are wet with snow, clinging to his cheeks, and Dean licks his lips and tastes--beer--and tugs Sam up, and over, and when he sits down on the stump Sam collapses into his lap in total and ongoing surprise, like having started this he had absolutely no idea it could go further. “What?” he says, dumb, which is a nice change for once, for Dean to be the one who knows what’s going on, and Dean says, “Shut up, Sammy,” and tucks his hands on either side of Sam’s jaw and kisses him again, and again, soft and slow like he learned to do with the nervous chicks, and Sam just melts into his lap, grabbing at him awkward but eager. Wanting, and that’s just--Dean can’t think about that.

He gets an arm around Sam’s waist, keeps him close, and Sam squirms, his weight shifting in Dean’s lap. “Yeah?” Dean says, and his dick--jesus, his dick’s on board, has been, rocking a half-chub since Sam started wrestling with him but he’s been able to put that away--has always been able to put that away--only this time he doesn’t have to and it’s got his head spinning, his body moving on weird autopilot, since Sam wants it, Sam’s been wanting it. He grabs Sam’s ass and Sam jerks, gasping into his mouth, and Dean squeezes, instinct telling him that that’s a good thing, a good turned-on sound, and Sam shivers and his hips push back, and then cringe forward against Dean’s stomach, and then he jerks and says, “Oh,” soft, and Dean doesn’t get what that means until Sam’s hiding his face in Dean’s shoulder, shaking, and Dean realizes that Sam came in his pants, just from Dean touching him and having him in his lap, and his whole body feels like it about catches fire, right then.

Sam’s still quivering, though, and Dean’s not a dickhead. “Sammy,” he says, and tugs off a glove with his teeth to touch Sam’s bare skin--his neck, exposed to the cold, and the silky hair at the base of his skull.

“I didn’t--” Sam mumbles, clutching at Dean’s coat, and Dean doesn’t know what that means but he’s got a lot of experience reassuring his little brother, and even if this situation is--insane--world-ending maybe--well, he knows what to do here.

“Probably got jizz on my jeans, freak,” he says, super soft, and Sam pulls back and looks at him horrified, and then sees his expression and punches him in the shoulder, hard. “Ow,” Dean says, obligingly, and then touches Sam’s jaw, easy. “Hey. It’s cool.”

“Is it cool?” Sam says, echoing, and Dean bites the corner of his mouth, knowing he doesn’t really have an answer. Sam snorts, bitter. Dean doesn’t know if he was ever so bitter. “Yeah, see? I--I shouldn’t have--”

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean says, again, and Sam looks at him, miserable. Dean shrugs. “New year. We still got that bottle of champagne. We could go inside. Whatever--whatever you want to do, man. Night’s still young.”

Sam stares at him. “Really?” he says, and Dean says, maybe more honest than he can ever remember being with anyone, “It’s all good with me,” because--it is. For once. Maybe for the first time in Dean’s whole life--everything is completely, totally, bizarrely, freakily--good. He blames it on the beer, and on how Sam starts, even if uncertainly, to smile.

#fffb #petitgateau911 #weecest #tw: tipsy decision making #my writing

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finsterhund · 3 years

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Hey I fucking broke my ankle lmao

“I could really use a break right now” I say as I struggle with my dog having terminal cancer, my roommate pushing my limits, my money being nonexistent, and barely getting one meal a day.

A finger on the monkey’s paw that is me ever wanting anything in life curls again. Must have been a pretty fucked up monkey because there’s a lot of fingers on this thing by now.

So yeah, life thought I wasn’t going through enough already so it added broken fucking ankle to the list of Finsterhund suffering hours.

“I wish I wasn’t broke” is another good one. “here have a different broke then lol. go fuck yourself you rotting corpse of a victorian boy piece of shit”

here’s the goods. Got ex roommate to take photo of the screen. Doctor did not let me email the high res version to myself.

I did not go “waaaiii” on the way down, unfortunately. Life just isn’t like a video game. Probably didn’t look funny either. In reality I am a silent faller/injurer/whatever. Survival instincts of child abuse survivor I land and stay there as quiet as possible. I “grew out of” signals for help before teenage years. Which is a blessing in disguise because I don’t like people looking at me when I am hurt. it’s the “baby deer waiting for mom to come back instinct” I hide from predators.

My brain didn’t really process it when it happened. I just fell and heard a SNAP. If I had watched a video of it happening to someone else I would have found it gross but fortunately my brain just let me ignore it.

I was mostly immediately scared that I had somehow damaged the FIFTY DOLLAR dog calming aid that I got for Cazza in the pet store. I needed something like it for her and just seeing it in person and not having to pay 30 dollar shipping I was like “yeah. getting it here” fortunately the only fragile part is a little plastic capsule that imitates a heartbeat, which was packaged inside the toy inside the box. I hope. I have not opened it.

But the reason I fell is because I was also carrying giant bag of dog food. You see my vet recommended I switch out her food in light of the potential heart disease link. So I got the biggest bag of the best chicken stuff they had. My roommate might try saying that it was because the bag was too heavy. It wasn’t. I could lift that shit just fine. Bag was impossible for my impaired depth perception cringe fail line of vision to see around. The same visual impairment that prevents me from being able to drive a car made me think that I could put my foot down on the curb of the sidewalk. Dumb ass thought I was stepping OVER the curb.

Fortunately the bag of dog food broke my fall. Otherwise I’d have probably smashed my nose and teeth on the pavement. I really hope the expensive puppy calming toy is unharmed :( I say as I have a fucking broken leg.

So yeah. If you’ve seen labyrinth where David Bowie playing Jareth the Goblin King walks over all those weird ass fucked up stairs and ledges that are all a manner of odd angles? Specifically where he just takes steps that are at an angle that you cannot actually walk? Yeah I fucked up Jareth platform stairs walked over the fucking curb and snapp my legs

yes, I said legs.

Only my left is technically broken. It’s a Webber A something or other. I have a sick as hell photo if you wanna see. It’s included in this post.

But my right foot also got fucking fucked up. That one it snapped a tendon or a ligament or whatever the fuck. Get this, it snapped off a small piece of the gottamn bone. It’s not a break but it’s like it came off like a splinter. I made a joke in the hospital about how it’s like when you throw a sticky hand at the wall and when you pull it back a piece of the paint comes off with it. That was really fucking funny but nobody laughed. My friend’s group chat thought it was funny though. I did not get a photo of that foot and the tiny cringe sticky hand paint sliver bone.

I am on pain meds better than my normal pain meds. I can barely feel the legs in bed now.

So back to the parking lot. I landed on the dog food bag. I am hoping the calmeroos puppy is not broken or damaged in any way, I heard the snap but my brain is not registering the snap. This hurts “like a normal fall” I think at first. It hurts a lot of course, but I have the pain tolerance of a truck (thanks for this one Will) and a “heartwarming” story from my youth is that my mom didn’t believe my arm was broken both times it happened because I wasn’t “in pain enough” so I’ve got the firsthand experience to back that up.

Yeah then I try to fucking move my goddamn legs. Left one, broken one, there’s noises. Like cracking pop sounds. And pain. God fuck. It feels like the foot is loose and it’s only connected by fleshy flesh and muscle and skin. Aka like how my dislocated shoulder (that my mom also dismissed because I didn’t scream enough... after the lifeguard had alreayd put it back in...) had felt when I was 12.

So I’m like “oh god oh fuck oh god oh fuck I can’t get up or move” yeah my first response was “how the fuck am I going to escape?” I attempted to better myself to get up but absolutely not. Right foot feels like when I roll the damn thing which happens a lot. That *WAS* my bad ankle. sidkfjsdkfjskdf not anymore!!!!!

So an important note is that I’m technically better about my severe agoraphobia that my roommate can let me go into a store by myself provided he’s no more than a couple stores away. So while I’m waiting for a predator to pick my weak ass off outside the petstore he’s in the dollar store next door where I was supposed to meet him after putting the dog food in the car. The car I am now sitting next to. I have no way to get his attention because my phone is dead and also in my bedroom because it’s useless when not plugged into the wall.

Luckily the people parked next to us come out the store and see Mr fuck leg the fucked leg boy sitting on his bag of dog food between the cars and bless this family they help me out. By trying to get roommate out of the dollar store. Which doesn’t work. So they get the dollar store manager. Who then gets roommate out of the store. I was probably sitting there for 10 minutes or so. They had kids so I’m really trying not to let them see how fucked up the rapidly growing ankle balloon is.

But yeah. Eventually roommate come out the dollar store. And get this, he does the same shit my mom did every time anything ever fucking happened to me and is all “okay if it were really broken you’d be screaming right now” as I’m finally able to prop myself up enough to get into the car. That fucking triggered me real bad and I had a breakdown in the car while he went back into the dollar store to continue shopping.

Then we went to get food.

Then we went to costco.

He said that he would take me home and then if it was “still bad tomorrow” he’d take me to the ER.

So he tries to help me out of the car to the house.

I cannot put weight on the right leg either. It is agony. He’s trying to support the bad leg but the other leg need support too. A weaker man would have screamed but I just dropped to the parking lot ground and cried.

Made an attempt to crawl to the house but the gravel on my knees was just too much on top of everything else.

So FINALLY the ER is back on the menu. Ex roommate comes out because I need someone to support each foot. And they take me to their car and they drive me to the ER and I’m trying to eat a baconator while my foot is reminding me that we should have stayed as tiktaalik. you know, not fucking biped I want semi aquatic too please please please youre nothing

The wheelchairs in the ER are designed to offer full body support but the damn things are so hard to maneuver around and cannot be user operated. So I was sitting there having to get pushed around feeling like a dumb fuck because I hate needing assistance to move I hate it I hate it I hate it. I kept reaching down expecting to find the wheel handles but they weren’t there.

ER was... fun. There was a cool cartoon I’ve never seen before “Craig of the Creek” playing on the TV. I really want to see more of it I really liked it. But a fucking anti vax guy (YEAH REALLY) was swearing and bitching because there were kids shows on the TV This show was the only comfort I fucking had. Craig was spoonfeeding me comfort with his little freeze to death without your winter clothes adventure (RIP to him but I’m different)

But yeah. Once being treated it was all really nice. My ability to make constant jokes about fucked up injury death and suffering is a really good stress relief. Shout out to the xray tech who totally understood I use dark humor to cope and in response to my joke about how if I was a horse they'd just shoot me that I would “make wonderful glue” the other people were also very kind but I kinda felt they were intimidated by how “jovial” I was about the whole thing. Like yeah. I’m “handling it well” because that’s my whole strategy. Inside I’m screaming “please not the plates please not the plates please not the plates” (I am scared of having metal plates and screws.) Fortunately the stupid little cringe bone broke just low enough on the bone that I don’t have to get the plates and screws. I was literally begging Spot and she answered.

In my moment of weakness I decided that the true nature of the “Spot Power” is that she makes it so that when I’m going through shit I’m always “being so brave about it”

I kept thinking about how Cazza thought I had abandoned her though and while roommate did give her her evening walkies she was stressed and puked on the walk. Which fucking ruined my life and I cried more hearing that than the fucking leg.

So yeah. In canada crutches and the foot boot actually cost money. I’m out like 100 dollars. Plus like 30 because roommate wanted gas. I’m just used to it by now. I definitely need to plug Cazza’s gofundme again now though. Have no clue how I’m even going to take her to her appointments. I am hesitant to hope that roommate will give her as good walks as she needs.

There were more tears over the fact that I was going to fail Cazza than that I actually broke my fucking ankle.

This shouldn’t be a shock. I knew that eventually my visual impairment and my physical disability were going to team up on me and fuck up my body even worse somehow. Always thought it was going to be stairs though. A small comfort is apparently the x ray department has had four other people come in about the exact same curb. Yeah I kid you not. The curb between the redacted dollar store and the redacted pet store confirmed for Heart of Darkness 2: Andy Ankle Adventure

They were supposed to give me more pain meds but I guess I didn’t pick them up or they forgot or something. My brain is fried so i have no idea at all.

Crutches are a massive learning curve for someone with depth issues and balance issues. I almost fell face first on the goddamn crutches several times. If I wasn’t broke and you know, if I couldn’t fucking not leg broken walk leg I would go to hardware store and make a wheeling seat thing like those scooters in gym class and then I’d have Cazza pull me on walks. That would work.

Big issue is in and out of our place is fucking stairs. Yeah. I crawled up them on hands and knees. No way in hell with my already fucking broken mobility could I go crutches up them. I have to hold onto railing or I fall down stairs so crawling it was.

I can technically take the boot off to sleep but the tightness makes it so much better so fuck that. Wish I had the rolling elementary school gym class scooter so I could drag myself around the house.

Cazza doted on me like nothing else. She tried to brace me going up the stairs but she’s not big enough for what I’d need with this fucking leg problem. She helped me change out of my clothes though. Even though she’ll never be certified she’s still my everything.

The she cuddled close to me until I had calmed down and now she’s fast asleep in her bed. I am so glad I ended up giving her her bath before going out.

I am going to attempt to make it to my bloodwork appointment tomorrow. I have rescheduled that due to chemo appointments too many times.

I can’t remember if I’m forgetting anything else. Honestly my roommate telling me the exact same shit my mom did just fucking hurt so bad. I think I know my own body better than you do. Like I’ve told him about how she didn’t believe me and I had to beg her to take me to the hospital and he ended up doing the exact same shit. All because I didn’t outwardly exhibit being in enough pain apparently.

I just hate how being disabled you always have to fucking prove you’re disabled. Like I was expected to somehow walk back to the house and up the stairs but when I got to go to the ER yeah fucking broken lol.

I just wish I had parents. I need taking care of. I always did and I never got it.

I’m scared for the future. I don’t know how I’m going to manage or how I’m going to provide for Cazza.

I wish breaking my ankle could have made Cazza’s cancer go away

#text post #negative #long post #cw: injury #broken bones #ask me to tag #cw: medical

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bigdanteague3 · 3 years

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Ok...so Julie. Let’s go. I knew of her, of course. Its hard not to know somebody you’d gone to school with that long. But I’m 99.9% sure I had never actually spoken to her. And if I had, it was like in a group setting and never a 1 on 1 conversation. I had also never once thought that I’d like to date her or hook up with her. It didn’t even cross my mind. Just a girl...and not even really attractive. She didn’t move the needle for me. She had friends and I had friends and some of our mutual friends were tight.

This was the time was I was with Amber the broken foot cheerleader from the gym. We weren’t dating...but we would make plans and make sure we were at the same place on the weekends. You going to go to this place tonight, right? Ok, me too. I think we both just enjoyed whatever it was we had. This was the time I was also meeting up with you...white store, etc. So, I was at a girl’s house who’s mom was never at home. She always had lots of people over. So there were several people at the house and Julie was there and so was Caroline and that group...Amber was there but had to leave early. It was getting later in the night and most people had set up in the living room. I had gone back to the bathroom and when I rounded a corner I bumped into her. Like not accidental, flirty brush against. But bam, neither saw the other one coming kind of collision. She was like damn..and pushed me like she was mad. I pushed her back and told her to watch where she was going. She retaliated with a 2 hand shove to the chest and my back was against the wall. This is our deepest convo yet lol.....so I grabbed her by the shoulders and got close to her face and could tell she wanted to kiss. Fuck it, we did. Hard to describe what happened next....but she started....like....overacting? Like putting on a show that didn’t seem real. It didn’t seem weird at the time but over the top aggressive and panting. Like I said...some of this you would just have to see. Anyway, it seemed like this was headed somewhere and we pushed into an empty bedroom. She tore my clothes off like it was an emergency...so I did the same to her. We were both naked and standing and we fell on the bed and my dick was in her 3 minutes after the hallway bump. Her pussy was extremely hairy...untamed....and she had tiny nipples that looked like pencil erasers. I was on top and I was fucking her fairly hard.....her pussy was extremely wet....you could hear her getting fucked...not exactly a sloshing sound...maybe a swishing? Like rinsing your mouth with mouthwash. She’s thrashing and begging for more and I just start going as hard as I can and she makes these weird monkey noises....again...it was not sexy and just seemed very strange. I’m fucking her on somebody’s bed and she’s acting like she’s possessed. I’m thinking maybe she just wants me to know she’s enjoying it. So I go with it. I give it to her as good as I can and she flips over and we finish doggystyle. Her ass in the air and I’m tapping away and she’s making monkey noises and I cum on her cheeks.

I couldn’t decide if it was sexy or not? At that moment...she was aggressive which was a plus. But it seemed like an actress. As we were getting dressed she asked me to take her out to eat. She meant right then.....I told her I had to go and she was like you can’t just fuck me and not feed me. I told her we’d get something to eat the next night. We did. She stole the metal box that held the napkins off the table. I didn’t know until we got in the car and she pulled it out of her purse. She would just blurt out random things that weren’t funny but then laugh. Hard to get the point across but I wasn’t exactly comfortable or digging her on that level. I think the sex was weird enough the night before that I was intrigued....but I didn’t like her. I don’t think anything happened that night...but I’m pretty sure that was our only real date.

During this time I had extracurriculars most weekend nights....so there was an excuse not to take her to movies or call. I just assumed we would keep it casual. Apparently she didn’t. She assumed we were an item. Do I just have that uncomfortable conversation where I have to tell her I fucked her and took her out but she wasn’t right for me? Or do I just do what I can to not look like a jerk? I tried to not look like a jerk. She would come to my extracurriculars and at some point I realized I had to tell her and risk some dramatic shit I didn’t want to do....or I could just wait until summer and disappear. That seemed easier. I would do the bare minimum to avoid drama, keep her somewhat satisfied and still see you and amber. Avoiding conflict was priority number 1. I managed to do that. Wasn’t that hard. I would occasionally talk to her at school....she’d wait for me after those events and we would ride around and I’d fuck her in the car every once in a while. We only had sex less than 10 times over a 2 or 3 month span. One time she had on a skirt and just slid her panties off in the passenger seat. She grabbed my arm off the wheel and I fingered her hairy soaking pussy on the side of the road.

What really sealed the deal was she was present when Caroline made her shocking Queen of Head statement. My jaw hit the floor but Julie was like...I would never suck a dick...gross. She was always close to manic and the lack of oral sex was just too much. That’s the right word for all this....manic. Shouldve used it earlier but it didn’t occur to me. Bottom line was that our sex wasn’t sexy

I ghosted her after graduation. Avoided her calls, didn’t see her. I was involved with Caroline at this point and running around with her. One time Julie did call and somehow answered and she asked me to come to a certain park so we could talk things over. I sighed and just said it wasn’t working out. It was fun but lives are taking different directions, etc. She begged me to come anyway. I relented and did. When I say the sex was not good...it wasn’t. The thrashing and manic stuff was kind of childish so I didn’t go to that park to fuck her. I assumed it was some dramatic scene. I almost didn’t pull in but did.

She wanted to sit in the car and talk. I did. She asked if there was anything she could do to change my mind. I said there wasn’t. She wanted to know why...I lied. I wasn’t going to tell her there was zero emotional connection from the start and she just seemed off. She wanted to drive me somewhere so I said ok. She found some farm road in a pasture and we had sex in the backseat. She just kept screaming harder, harder, harder, faster, faster.....I just wanted to cum and go home. She was laying on the backseat and I pulled out and just jerked it for a little bit and came on her titties. She took me back and I went home. She mailed a long letter later with lots of dramatic prose. I didn’t respond. I haven’t seen her again. She pops up on facebook occasionally as a friend suggestion. She hasn’t aged well at all. Even the pictures on there are weird....I don’t know. Like out of focus or a selfie where she’s barely in the frame. Or squinting into the sun. I do think there’s a mental health issue.

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bunnis-babes · 5 years

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So @queennerd-love tagged me to do this forever ago, and I just kinda… didn’t. But I’m bored and angry about accidentally deleting the same HCs for the second time, so I’m doing this to distract.

Star sign?

Gemini

Height?

5’5” I’m a moderately size girl, just kinda average.

Put your playlist on shuffle and list the first 4.

So uhhh… all of these are undertale/deltarune because thats my go to playlist, it’s what I use when I do pretty much anything so… :/

1. The Legend (Toby Fox)

2. Spear of Justice (Undertale Remix by Game Chops)

3. Dogsong (Kazoo cover by Tsuko G.)

4. Don’t give up (Toby Fox)

Grab the nearest book and skip to the page 23, what is the 17th line?

Uhm… the closest book I had was a manga so this doesn’t really apply all that well, but I’ll just give the last spoken line. “He’s calling to give you his answer…” If you can guess where it’s from that’d be fun.

Ever had a poem written about you?

Yeah actually, he had to write Haikus about our classmates one year in junior high. I think my best friend and I wrote about each other, but I can’t be too sure.

When was the last time you played air guitar?

Uhhhhh… over a year ago? Like sometime in 2017 was the last time for sure.

Name one sound you hate one you love?

The sound of a books binding being destroyed is something I can stand. It hurts my should when I hear that noise. A sound I love is orchestral sounds its just pleasing to my ears.

Do you believe in ghosts? Aliens?

Ghosts, but not aliens. I don’t want to explain why, but magical little men living on mars just doesn’t sound… plausible. The idea of ghosts is just, it makes more sense then these E.T. beings.

Do you drive/have you been in a car crash?

My dad hit a deer on the way to the hospital when my mom went into labor. Other than that, no.

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Meh… Sharpies smell way better.

Last movie you saw?

Into the spider verse

Worst Injury?

I fell off the monkey bars and sprained my ankle. It hurt a lot and couldn’t walk on it for a while, because pain.

Your Obsessions?

BNHA, Gravity Falls, Cermet, Undertale (The game itself please don’t hate me), Deltarune, A silent Voice, MHA: Vigilantes, Waitress, The Arcana, many more.

Hold Grudges?

Only one, and that bitch deserves it. She was an ass to me and my friends and she did this shit to herself.

Relationship?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I’m unlovable.

When was the last time you screamed at the top of your lungs?

When I stepping into my home to day after school.

What view would you like to have out of your window?

A bustling city in the distance, separated by a small field with a nice solid tree growing in it.

If you could instantly know how to speak another language, what language would you choose to know?

Japanese is the first one. Most likely Spanish, French and Norwegian after that. I’ve got a whole bunch more, but those are the main contenders.

What would be your strategy for surviving an apocalyptic epidemic?

Have my close friends with me and be sure to have plenty of food and meds and other basic shit like that. Probably die, idk I wouldn’t really give a shit if the world died.

When does time pass the fastest for you? The slowest?

It passes fastest in Biology and slowest in Spanish.

You can broadcast one sentence to every TV channel and radio station and have it translated, what would it be?

“Dude what the fuck, I don’t know what to sa- hEY ARE YOU ACTUALLY BROADCASTING THIS SHI-“ And then the entire broadcast is shut down.

What are you completely over and done with?

People telling me I can’t enjoy Undertale because of the fandom, fake bitches, my depression/anxiety getting in my way of having a successful school career, my health teacher, not being comfortable with a lot of guys, not being able to ask for help.

Who haven’t you seen in a while and want to see if their okay?

@home-of-the-trash and @blackdevilina

What do you wish people would stop asking you about?

“Why can’t you just talk to people.” “Why are you so anxious and awkward all the time.” “It’s not that hard, just ask them.”

What is the most unusual fear you have?

That we have a rooster living in our attic thing area place.

What’s the biggest lesson life has taught you?

Not to trust everyone right away.

Of you could hear when people say positive or negative things about you, which would you choose to hear?

Positive, it would be nice to hear and a good confidence boost. Plus, negative things would just push me further into depression.

What’s the best piece of advice someone has given to you?

“Don’t depend on people as much as you did with her, they might hurt you and I don’t want to see that happen again.”

What do you think people automatically assume about you when they look at you?

Quiet, awkward, and not too attractive.

When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried?

Just today.

What’s your story?

It’s a lot of me living life obliviously before realizing why I am the way I am and being sad suddenly, but I’m getting better.

What do you wish you had more time for?

Writing, art, classes I want to take, friends, trips, fun things I want to do.

What’s the most unpleasant sounding word?

Andrew.

If you could dedicate your life to solving one issue, what would it be?

Depression.

What feelings do the colors Turquoise, silver, purple, or brown represent to you?

Turquoise: Calmness, Serenity

Silver: A burden, great wealth

Brown: Grossness, disgust

Purple: Pride, Royalty

What is your favorite way to meet new people?

In a casual way. Just walk up and introduce yourself to me and try to get me talking. I have a hard time making friends and putting in effort to make them, but I will try to make friends with someone who wants to.

What is your favorite non-drug/non-alcohol high?

Being able to laugh, it’s a good reliever and I feel happy and amazing while doing it.

What kind of personality traits do you associate certain names?

Elizabeth: Nice, friendly, basic

Andrew: Smart, goofy, brotherly

Lilly: Boisterous, funny, a gremlin

What is the best thing you could tell someone to cheer them up when they are feeling down?

There isn’t much you can say to make them feel better a lot of the time, I really default to making terrible puns and jokes and that normally brings a smile to their face.

What’s the best decision you’ve ever made?

Opening up to my amazing best friends.

What’s weird about you?

I’m thinking just about everything is strange personality wise; but physically I have a little bump in my nose. Everyone tells me it doesn’t really distract from the rest of my face and it makes me pretty, but I don’t like it.

What are you hyped about?

My next school break, summer break omg, Spanish class to be fucking over.

What do couples do that seriously annoys you?

Uhm… some of them make out right in front of us and its just disgusting. Like, yeah your in love, go make out in the bathroom, thanks.

Oof, wrote half of this at 1am and half of it in first hour! I’m really bored, so I just did this because why not. Hope you liked it!

💙River💙

#river rambles #potassium #tagged #ask meme #is this a meme #idk

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