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crystalas · 3 years

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Blazing Blue part 3

warning: bit of blood, injuries and broken bones

Chapter 3: Macaque attack!

They approached Sandy’s ship, the big blue fellow greeted them warmly and offered Red Son a cup of tea and a cat to cuddle. Red Son scared of what would happen to him if he said no to a hulking sailor with a mohawk accepted both and had to endure Tang and MK’s giggles as he soon became a literal hot spot for all the cats on the ship.

Sandy came back with a tray of tea to find cats swarming over Red Son who was trying very hard not to lose his temper, Sandy shooed most of them off.

“Sorry about that, cats can’t say no to a warm lap” he smiled.

“Clearly.”

“So, MK says you need a place to stay” Sandy asked as they sipped their tea.

“…did he say why?” he replied looking at MK.

“No, but I’m guessing you wouldn’t be sofa surfing if it wasn’t for a good reason, you’re free to stay here as long as you want!”

“Really? Just like that?” Red Son spluttered.

“Yeah, why not?” Sandy beamed but the conversation was interrupted as a green motor cycle suddenly appeared from the sky landed on the deck and Mai leapt off grinning like a little girl with a puppy.

“RED SON! I KNEW IT!” She cried triumphantly “I knew you couldn’t resist destiny; you’ve joined the side of good and became a hero! Well done you! I knew you had it in you…”

MK rushed over and grabbed the cat as Red Son leapt up screaming flames dancing over him as did. “I HAVE DONE NO SUCH THING!!”

“Then why are you here?”

“Get that hero nonsense notion out of your head right now! I have no intention of becoming a hero I’m just…just…”

“Taking a hiatus from evil?” Tang offered.

“YES! THAT!” Red Son confirmed angrily.

“Really?” another voice called out. “I heard you got disowned!”

Red Son froze, his fire flared up and died out as he spun around to see Macaque standing on the pier. He gave a smirk as he leapt over to the boat and walked over to Red Son. MK grabbed his staff and took a battle stance to the confusion of his friends who had never met this person before.

“W…what are you talking about?” Red Son stuttered.

“Well, what can you expect when your find out your failure of a son not only ran away from home but immediately bunked up with the apprentice of your sworn nemesis? I got to say I would’ve given you a chance to explain yourself but your dad was quick to get the word out that he disowned your pathetic butt.” he explained casually pacing back and forth in front of Red Son who clenched his fists, he glanced back at MK and the others painfully aware that his shameful secret was out. Rage bubbling in him at the fact that this Monkey King look-alike was bragging about it openly in front of him like it was the funniest thing ever.

“Red don’t listen to him…” MK started but was taken aback from the flames that erupted around Red Son as he leapt forward to strike at Macaque. Though Macaque effortlessly dodged all of Red Son’s attacks he always made sure he was in striking distance of the enraged demon, dealing out swift kicks and hits to not so much as hurt Red Son but to anger him further. They quickly made their way to cargo bay on the pier and was bouncing between crates and cranes but Red Son could never seem to get a chance to pin Macaque down.

“You don’t know anything about my father!” Red Son roared angrily between blasts of fire and attempted attacks.

“Maybe but I’m not blinded by delusion like you, wasn’t it you who freed him by bypassing Monkey King’s seal? Made all those cool robots and gadgets? You even made that sweet armour for him? Does he care?” Macaque taunted before vanishing from sight and reappeared behind Red Son and with a quick and powerful swipe from his shadow staff attacked him from behind. Red Son staggered forward to his knees and he heard a small ringing crack that seemed to run through his whole body.

“Nope, cos as far as your folks are concerned, you’re a failure as a demon, a mistake that they have to deal with for the rest of their lives…”

“Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!” Red Son screamed, a pillar of flames erupting around him.

Meanwhile MK and his friends had rushed over to try and help.

“Who is this guy? Why does he look like Monkey King? What’s his beef with Red Son?” Mai asked.

“Not to mention why is he so determined to tick him off?” Tang exclaimed. “It’s like he wants him as angry as possible…”

“And also, why is Red Son’s back glowing?” Sandy asked, that got MK attention as his eyes glowed gold and could see the battle clearly. The symbol on Red Son’s back was glowing purple but as if a meter was filling up.

“Oh no…he’s trying to steal Red’s power!” MK cried and leapt into the fray but when he got close enough to attack, he was suddenly grabbed by several shadow monkeys holding him in place with his arms held out, he struggled to get free as a third appeared in front of him.

“Sorry kid, I can’t have you interfering with my plan. Tell you what? I’m just going to put you in a little time out” and before MK could ask what he meant the shadow Macaque swung down with his staff onto MK’s arm. A flash of pain quickly became a surging wave of agony as Macaque broke MK’s arm with ease.

That howl of pain broke Red Son out of his enraged state and he spun around to see MK fall to the floor with shadows swirling around, MK was holding his arm and sobbing in pain, his friends running to help. Macaque sniggered as Red Son looked on in horror.

“Hah hah hah! Really? Are you seriously concerned for Monkey King’s little protégé? That’s hilarious no wonder your family is ashamed of you!” Macaque laughed and twirling his staff as he headed to MK. “But hey if you want, how about I just kill him now? I’ll let you take the scraps back to daddy dearest maybe then he can look at you and not have to fight the urge to throw up!”

The ringing sound seem to get louder as another crack could be heard, Macaque looked back just in time to see an explosion of blue fire engulf the area and take on the form of a giant bull. Macaque beamed happily seeing in the centre of this creation was Red Son, blue fire streaming out of his eyes and mouth.

“I knew those rumours had to be true!” he cackled “I’m going to be taking that power of yours thank you!” and leapt forward only for the fire bull to head butt him with such force he was sent sprawling and he had to roll onto his feet as the infernal heat of two huge hoofs slammed down around him. He leapt up again to swing down his staff but it burned away before it even came close.

“Man, the True Fire of Samadhi is certainly worth the hype” Macaque chuckled, he rushed forward dodging the flames getting ever closer to Red Son to make that final strike and steal the power. Only to blindsided by a staff to the ribs which sent him stumbling off kilter and away from Red Son, he looked back at MK who with one arm hanging limply was gripping the staff with the other. Too late did he realise that he took his attention off Red Son before he was blasted into the sea by the roaring fire beast. It stood there for a second before evaporating into the air and Red Son fell to the floor with a heavy thump, he rubbed his head gingerly as he got up.

“MK are you ok?!” Mai cried out.

“Hold on let me get my med kit!” Sandy stated as he rushed back to his ship.

“Who was that guy?!”

“Bad news…” MK spluttered “Very bad news”

Red Son staggered back to them as Sandy rushed over with a med kit, MK and the others looked up at Red Son as he approached.

“Dude what was that? That looked awesome! How come you’ve never done that before?” Mai asked. “I mean I’m glad you haven’t you would’ve kicked our butts if you could but why not until now?”

“Is MK, okay?” he asked.

“Just a broken bone, I’m out of the fighting scene for a while, but I’ll live!” MK grunted with a pain smile.

“I…I feel hot” Red Son muttered to himself.

“Yeah, you are! You were on fire figuratively and literally! You sent that Monkey King Rip off packing!”

“Red…Red are you ok?” Tang asked as he noticed that Red Son was now struggling to remain standing Tang gasped when he saw his face.

“Red! What’s wrong with you?” he cried, Red Son felt wetness on his face and put his fingers up to it, he pulled it away to see blood. The others froze in disbelief as blood dripped from Red Son’s eyes and mouth, he just looked at his hand blankly.

“I…I…don’t know…why…do I feel…so…hot…” with that the ground rushed up to greet him as he blacked out. The last thing he heard was MK screaming out his name.

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

Monkey King lounged on his cloud enjoying the afternoon sun on his fur, he had to wonder if it was ok to let MK make that agreement with Red Son but if it meant that he didn’t have to deal with Demon Bull King’s half-baked son running around his mountain then he didn’t care. It wasn’t like MK hadn’t beaten him before anyway.

Not to mention it gave him time to cook up more lessons for when he gets back from his Truce Buddy play date, teaching was a lot more complex than he thought.

He opened his eyes when he sensed the presence of others nearby, he leapt down to investigate but relaxed when he realised, they were the familiar auras of MK and his friends. But that feeling quickly died when Mai ran in looking terrified.

“Monkey King we need your help, its urgent!” she cried as she gasped for breath.

“what’s wrong?” he said suddenly concerned, it wasn’t like MK friends to approach him like this.

“This Monkey King look-alike attacked and…” she began.

“Macaque? What happened?” he asked but before Mai could answer he dashed down to find MK, Monkey King gave a small sigh of relief when he saw MK walking through the temple with Sandy and Tang but that was quickly side stepped with a wave of rage as he saw his protégé was nursing a broken arm.

“What. Did. He. Do?” he snarled.

“Don’t worry about me, it’s…” MK began.

“Don’t worry? DON’T WORRY!? HE BROKE YOUR ARM!” He roared “I’m gonna kill him when I find him!” his nimbus flew to his side and he got ready to leap onto it when MK grabbed his cloak.

“Wait please!” MK begged which brought pause to the impulsive immortal, “we need your help with someone else…we didn’t know who else to turn to…” he gestured to Sandy who was walking tenderly with something no, someone in his arms. Monkey King strode over to see Red Son nestled in the giant’s embrace, his skin glisten with sweat, dried blood caked around his eyes and mouth and his breathing sounded painfully ragged and short, Red Son gave a grimace of pain and began to shiver.

“Bring him through and tell me EXACTLY what happened!” Monkey King demanded as he rushed through and began to rummage through his hut.

“Macaque attacked Red Son and I think he was trying to do to him what he did to me. I tried to stop him but Macaque just broke my arm…” MK looked up when he heard the smash of pottery to see Monkey King had accidently broken a jar in his grip. “But then…Red Son defeated him using a giant bull made of blue fire!”

Monkey King spun around to look at him.

“Blue fire? He used blue fire? Oh no this is not good!” he leapt up into the tree and began to grab peaches, jumping back down he began to mush them into a paste rapidly adding other ingredients faster than MK could register what they are.

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” MK glanced back at Red Son who Sandy had laid out on a blanket nearby. Red Son curled up clutching his stomach in pain as sweat poured off him.

“Go get water from the spring nearby, ice if you have it” Monkey King commanded to Sandy Tang and Mai “We need to bring his body temperature down!” they rushed to comply as Monkey King knelt next to Red Son.

“But…but’s he’s Red Son! The guy walks around on fire all the time why is it hurting him now?” MK asked feeling utterly helpless.

“Because he normally uses mortal fire to do it, that blue stuff is dangerous its fire in its purest form.” Monkey King explained sitting Red Son up and holding the bowl up to his lips.

“Drink up buddy this’ll help…”

Red Son groggily opened his eyes to see…a monkey…the monkey that attacked him! He gave a strangled cry and swatted him away, Monkey King darted back and grabbed the bowl before it could spill its contents. Red Son staggered to his feet but fell back on to his knees, blue fire rippling over him in defence.

“Get away from me!” he cried.

“Buddy I’m trying to help, if you don’t drink this, you’re going to roast yourself alive!” Monkey King declared and tried to pin him down but that just made Red panicked even more; weakly struggling to escape the Monkey King’s grip when that didn’t work engulfed himself in blue fire which cause Monkey King to flinch and back off momentarily. MK gave a gasp as he noticed Monkey King’s singed hands, he had seen Monkey King take on worse than a small fire and walk away unscathed, can this blue fire hurt the immortal warrior? This train of thought was broken when MK looked up to see Red Son scrambling away blindly looking for a way out.

“Get away! Don’t come near me!”

“Demon boy calm down!” Monkey King shouted and tried to grab him again but Red Son could see he was trapped and too weak to fight so just clung to the wall.

“I won’t let you!”

“Let me what? Help you?”

“I WON’T LET YOU STEAL THE ONLY PART OF ME WORTH HAVING!” Red Son screamed tearfully; Monkey King just stared at him as Red Son collapsed on the floor again the fire dying back to small embers around him. He coughed and spluttered and MK stared in disgust as blood splattered onto the floor.

“Monkey King…I think you’re scaring him” he said softly.

“I’m trying to help him why can’t he see that?” Monkey King demanded.

“He’s delirious or something, he can’t tell you and Macaque apart; he’s probably terrified because he thinks Macaque’s back to finish the job.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“I’ll give him the medicine”

“Kid you’re not fire proof, if he flares up again broken bones will be the least of your concerns!”

“Let me try” MK said quietly and took the bowl off Monkey King and slowly walked up to Red Son who was trembling.

“Hey Red…it’s me” he said softly. “Remember? Truce Buddies? We were going to just hang out today and relax…” Red Son looked up at MK and he could see how absolutely ragged and worn out he was, he wasn’t sure if Red Son was trembling from the fever or pain or from the sheer terror of being utterly helpless in front of his sworn enemies.

“N…noodle boy? What…what’s going on? Every…everything feels hot and …it…it hurts…” he whimpered as he curled up again, MK knelt down in front of him.

“I have something that will help but you need to drink it ok?” MK explained holding it out, Red Son looked at it and took it, with shaky hands he brought it to his mouth to drink. He gave another wince before finishing the mixture.

“Did it help?” MK asked, Red Son clutched his sides and gave a staggered moan of pain. Monkey King approached quietly and picked him up. MK panicked when he noticed that Red Son had gone limp.

“Is he okay??!” he cried, Monkey King laid him back on the mat as Mai and the others brought two buckets of bagged ice and four of water. As they applied the ice around him, they could hear it sizzle and the ice began to quickly melt.

“The mixture should have numbed his pain and help heal him, hopefully he should be ok but for now all we can do is keep him cool and let him rest.” Monkey King explained as he looked at MK who was staring at Red Son’s body with tears in his eyes.

“Let’s get your arm sorted now, alright kid?”

“He’s going to be okay right?” MK asked in a strained voice.

“Like I said all we can do is wait…”

“Ok…”MK mumbled as the adrenaline finally wore off, he hit the floor as he collapsed from the pain.

#monkie kid red son #monkie kid mk #spicynoodleshipping #if you squint #monkie kid macaque #blueson

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pftones3482 · 3 years

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Commission for @extrasensorious-zoroark, who asked for a Luca and Lance fic. Gotta admit, this one was a little tougher for me, just because we have less than an episode of content with Luca, but overall I think it turned out well.

Set post-Voltron, is otherwise canon compliant (sorry, couldn't think of a good excuse to keep Allura alive within the word limit). Under a cut for length.

When word reached the paladins that Luka hadn’t, in fact, been lost to them like they had thought, it was a stampede to make it to the med bay, with Romelle at the head of the group.

Lance thought Romelle might have felt a bit responsible for Luka’s death – she was, after all, the last one who had spoken to her before Honerva had done…whatever it was she had done to kill her. She’d spent the majority of their time in space looking guilty, and nothing anyone said could snap her out of it.

After Allura’s death, of course, Lance had sat down with her, and they’d done nothing more than just sit silently and cling to each other.

Now, as they gathered outside the med wing in the Garrison, Lance leaned over to Shiro. “How-?”

Shiro shook his head. “No idea,” he murmured. “Doctors didn’t say what changed, just that she suddenly revived right after we left for space.”

“And they didn’t tell us?” Romelle snapped.

Shiro’s hand fell on her shoulder and squeezed. “We had to have our focus elsewhere,” he said, and Lance watched her expression relax.

The doctor appeared at the door, looking weary. “Thank you all for coming,” she said. “I’m Dr. Reynolds. Luka is stable, has been for several weeks, but she still refuses to speak to anyone. With Honerva gone, we don’t believe her at risk for relapsing and suffering as she did prior. We still think it best if familiar faces be let in.”

Her gaze turned to Romelle and then to Lance and he blinked, lifting his hands in front of his chest instantly. “She doesn’t know me, she-”

He remembered, then, the marks on his face, and his gut twisted. “N-No, I’m not-”

Romelle’s hand gripped his elbow. “Please, Lance,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “I need an ally in there. Just in case.”

He slumped, offering a weak smile. “Sure. Sure, I’ll go.”

He glanced back at his teammates as Dr. Reynolds led them inside, and they all gave him sad smiles that did nothing to quell the churning in his stomach.

When Luka laid eyes on the pair, she scowled and flung her pillow at them. Romelle and Lance both dodged easily, and the other Altean hissed at the doctor. “No. Anyone but them,” she spat.

Dr. Reynolds nodded quickly. “Of course. Another time, then.”

Despite not wanting to come inside in the first place, Lance felt his gut sink. He’d been feeling pretty useless since Allura, uncertain, and despite their history, he’d been hoping that maybe, just maybe Luka could’ve been helped. To see that she wouldn’t even try? That hurt.

He hesitated to follow Romelle out the door, setting his hand on the frame as he looked back to her and searched her stony expression. “Well. We’re here, if you need.”

She flipped him off.

He went back two days later, some of Hunk’s fresh gumbo cradled in his hands, and hesitated outside her door. Lance hadn’t told anyone he was planning to come here, so if he got the steaming stew thrown back in his face, he’d have a lot of explaining to do.

Luka was reading something on a tablet when he leaned in the door, tapping his knuckles on the frame and offering her a weak smile as she looked up. “Um. Hey. I brought you some not-hospital food, if you want it?” he offered, holding up the bowl and spoon. “Fresh from my teammate Hunk.”

Luka sneered. “Oh, you mean from the people who only destroyed my home planet? The ones who now keep me imprisoned here? No thank you.”

Lance shifted on his feet. “W-Well if you decide you want it, I’ll just…”

He set it down on the dresser at the end of her bed and gave her what he knew was more of a grimace than a smile before bolting back to the hallway.

When he walked by later, the gumbo was gone and the bowl was outside waiting for pickup with the rest of her dishes.

Lance didn’t know if she’d eaten it or thrown it away, but something like hope lifted in his chest.

~~ “Dr. Reynolds said you liked reading,” Lance said, standing in the doorway of Luka’s hospital room with his arms piled high with Earth books that had survived the war. “I brought some of my favorites from…from before.”

Luka lowered her tablet and frowned. “You keep coming here. Stop.”

Lance licked his lips and set the books down, refusing to be swayed. “This one here is about the Greek gods? They were these ancient gods that people used to worship, a-and the book is about their kids. And this book is about a girl who is a necromancer – that’s like, a person who can raise the dead. And she gets sent to a group home cause people think she’s insane, but actually the whole group home is just teenagers with powers. A-And this one is-”

“Paladin,” Luka snapped, and Lance jumped in surprise. She softened, setting her tablet on her lap. “Stop. I don’t…”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. Her marks glowed faintly. “Your team…destroyed my home. It doesn’t matter how kind you act towards me, you will always be the people who killed my family. Just…stop. Please.”

Lance winced, thumbing the cover of The Hunger Games absentmindedly. “Luka, I’m sorry. We didn’t do that, though. We never hurt your home. Honerva brainwashed you to-”

The tablet shattered against the wall next to his face with a sickening sound and Lance jolted away, the book smacking the floor next to the broken glass. Luka’s cheeks were bright red and her eyes were filled with tears, the sight of which made Lance's chest ache. “Don’t you ever speak her name, you little-”

Lance threw his hands up, backpedaling out of the room before she could say more. His heart was beating fast, too fast, too hard, and he was back to their paladin wing by the time he realized he was crying too.

Despite Dr. Reynolds advising against it, Lance kept bringing her food. Kept bringing her books, especially when he noticed the slightly dog-eared pages of the ones she claimed to have never touched. He never spoke to her, just dropped off Hunk’s latest cooking endeavor and a new set of books, and then took the read ones back to the library.

His teammates noticed, of course they did, and eventually Lance found Keith at his side, pulling down books at the library and handing them over silently, Pidge knocking on his door late at night with a novel she’d just finished in her hands, Hunk approaching him with more Altean themed dishes. He appreciated the efforts more than they could ever know, more than he could tell them.

Luka was lost, just like he was. She’d lost so much, in such a short span of time, and Lance understood that pain. He just wanted her to realize that there were others in the Garrison who understood what she was feeling. Needed her to realize it.

He’d be damned if he let her spend her whole life locked up here. Not after getting it back.

“Your friend is a good cook,” Luka said as Lance set down the Mexican food Hunk had made that day. He blinked, not having expected her to talk, and looked up. Luka offered him what could only be called a grimace. “He um…knows his way around the kitchen. The Fineom he made the other day…that was an Altean dish.”

Lance nodded, turning to face her. “Yeah. Coran showed him how.”

She pursed her lips. “Coran is…the orange haired Altean, yes?”

“Yes,” Lance confirmed. “Hunk wanted to broaden his cooking horizons, and Coran knows some of the oldest recipes. He’s awful in the kitchen though,” he said with a chuckle.

Luka’s lips twitched in what look suspiciously like a smile, and she looked down at the book on her lap – To Kill a Mockingbird. She’d long since stopped hiding that she was reading the books Lance was bringing her. “Your world is so young,” she murmured, which was a shift in topic Lance wasn’t expecting. “You have dealt with so much that Alteans had forgotten ever happened on our world.”

Lance looked back to the book and hummed. “Yeah. We’ve come a long way. Got a long way to go. Cleaning up after the war is helping with that, shockingly,” he laughed. “Humans were pretty blind to everything outside our solar system – I think finally being able to interact with other planets made us realize how stupid and petty we all were.”

“Pettiness and stupidity occur no matter how old the planet,” Luka said, and her tone was bitter.

When she looked up, her eyes searched Lance’s with a depth he couldn’t fathom. His mouth went dry, and she shut the book. “May I…join you for lunch today? In the canteen? W-With you and your friends? I think…”

She put the book down and clasped her hands together. “I think I’m tired. Of eating alone and being stupid.”

Lance felt his face relax into a smile, and he held out an arm for her to cling to. “You were never stupid. But you’re welcome to join us – I and my teammates would really enjoy that.”

She reached out with a tentative smile and took his elbow.

#my writing #voltron #voltron: legendary defender #writing commissions #my commissions #lance vld #luca vld

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pinkykitten · 4 years

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HiGH

13 reasons why

Scott Reed x female! reader

Warning: getting high, vomiting, cursing, partying

Specifics: comedy, fluff, one-shot, race neutral reader

People: scott reed, jock dude, your friend, red haired cheerleader

Words: 1,854

Requested: By anon 😍😁 I'd love a Scott Reed one with fem reader. Since its getting close to Halloween how about how they got/ get together at a Halloween party?

Authors Note: sorry guys for not posting a lot here ive been studying for exams and just my life is so complicated atm so forgive me i know i should post more its just all the stress ya girl sometimes gets writers block. i appreciate u guys still sticking w me reading my stuff and im glad to be posting something and feel good about it.

The different array of colored lights shone brightly as a hit pop song blasted loud through the speakers. The party everyone at school was looking forward to. Only the best out of the best was present, stuffing their faces with alcohol and booze to wash down the pain and stresses of school and life.

You were content with staying home, wanting to open a bag of chips and really experience Netflix and chill. Solo. Alone. By yourself. A lone wolf. Why in the world were you really here at this party? You were a nobody compared to all these wannabes.

You were fidgety, playing with your fingers to control your anxiety of all these people and the atmosphere. It was so unlike you. Then you remembered. The only reason you were here was because your friend - not really - needed to trade with you the history paper you lent her. She was very persistent to get you to come to her rather than drive her car to your house. You were a very simple girl, you hated teenagers - even though you are one of them - and high school. But why did you dress your best to come to something you cared so little about? You had spent a little more over ten minutes just to pick your shoes! Did this gathering really matter to you?

“Okay y/n you’re gonna go in there and swipe that paper out of her hands and go straight back home. You’re not going to look at the food, not going to be deceived into drinking and you are certainly not going to look at a boy and dance with them because you are better than that,” you spoke aloud to yourself walking up the stairs to the house, getting some cat calls and whistles sent your way. Opening the door you were greeted by a shirtless jock. He dripped with sweat or was that beer? He was dancing as if he was experiencing a seizure.

“Remember what you gotta do, y/n,” that phrase echoed in your head. You crawled past the dancing, then squeezed past the horny animals making out by the bathrooms. “Where the f*ck is she?” Your head whipped back and forth in search for your “friend.” You landed on her doing a chug contest. “Excuse me,” you would say periodically, shoving yourself beside hollering people. You stood beside her and tapped her on the shoulder. She didn’t want to mess with her chugging so she pointed on the table by the drinks. “Thanks.” The table was littered with people f*cking like they were experiencing sex for the first time. Moaning and groaning really wanting nerdy, single people - like yourself - feel very alone and really praying they would get that action tonight. You grabbed your paper having to really pull as there was an a*s cheek of a red haired cheerleader plopped on top of it. You grimaced as you pulled the paper, making note to wash your hands when you have the chance.

“Now time to go home,” your determined self wiped your jacket getting ready to depart but your e/c eyes caught sight of a delicious looking drink. It was aqua blue with chunks of who knows what fruit in there. It was placed proudly on top of the kitchen counter.

“Wipe out!” The jock screamed on the top of his lungs, sounding like an alarm.

You covered your ears, annoyed. A group of teens took their cups and splashed some of the drink inside, enjoying the taste. “Why’s its called wipe out?” You asked the jock. Curious.

The jock raised his brow, taking you in.

“Pitiful,” you thought.

“Its because, babe, there is a secret ingredient in here.” He motioned to you.

Placing your palm on his chest you pushed him away, “I swear if its your jizz, count me out.”

“Its not, unfortunately, but just try it.”

You looked down and bit your lip. You were having a full out debate in your head, going back and forth with yourself. You had to do this paper. The party side took control of you and you snatched a cup from the table and poured yourself some “Wipe out.” You were totally going to regret this later.

A boy stood beside you, filling his cup as well. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, he was a cutie. From the way his f-boy, blond hairstyle stood still with either hairspray or gel or who knows what, to his baby blue eyes. Your eyes traveled to his lips. He saw you staring and presented you with a smirk. A sexy smirk at that. You almost fainted!

“This is bad,” your eyes widened as you felt light headed. You knew you could only keep away for so long.

“Hey, I know you. You are in my bio class. You always sit up front.” No way this boy was Scott Reed. He was the talk of the school, having to be entwined with the drama of Bryce. “I’m-”

“Scott Reed. I know and I’ve seen you in class.”

“And your name is,” he pondered for a moment. “Y/n l/n.”

Oh dear. You were starting to sweat from the realization that you and Scott were on a knowing name base. That was enough to start something. Something you didn’t want to start because you didn’t know if you could finish it.

“Wow didn’t think you were into this party life.”

“I’m not,” you took a large chug of your drink and Scott’s face looked disgusted. “What?”

“You’re not supposed to drink it that fast or all of that, for that matter. Okay you may experience being very...high.”

“High?” Yep it was truly a mistake for you step foot into this party. “There were drugs in that drink?”

“...yeah?”

“Scott!”

“Okay yes there was. I think only a little. Also alcohol, of course. It may not effect you though. Each person is different.”

You were feeling already dizzy. The world spinning but in a good way. As if you were on a ride. You were overwhelmed with the feeling of happiness and you were very, terribly hungry. The overpowering, booming music was low and muffled when it traveled through your ears. You were stoned and you wanted to dance. “DaNcE wHiP mE bAbEy.” You staggered back and forth.

“You sure?” Scott asked, holding onto your arm.

“Of CoUrSsSsSsSsSsSsSsE sCoTtY mCsNoTtY. GrInD wIf mEh.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Scott and you danced in the living room.

With the shake of your hips and the pumping of your fists you felt like you were on cloud 9.

There was a sea of fans, cheering your name. “Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!”

You performed on stage. Basking in the limelight, the attention. You were a star, a performer. You sang and danced on stage with your backup dancers giving it their all. Everyone in the crowd sang along with you, knowing every word. It was perfection.

Then you threw up and blacked out.

The pounding of your head woke you up, your eyes getting adjusted to new lighting. An unfamiliar jacket was on you and you heard the engine of a car. We’re you being kidnapped? You shot up and saw Scott - the boy from earlier - sitting beside you in his car.

“You are not used to drugs,” he chuckled.

“What happened?” You laid back calm. You touched your head thinking that was going to stop the pain.

“You threw up. All over me.”

Eyes widening in horror having the knowledge that you threw up all over the cutest boy in school. That party was cursed. You covered your mouth seeing the stain on his shirt, “I am so sorry Scott. Lets go to Walmart right now, I’ll buy you a new shirt.”

Scott touched your hand to calm you down, “its fine y/n, really. How are you though?”

“Well, lets just say I’m never doing drugs,” you sighed. “I feel really bad for doing that to your shirt. I bet you wish you never met me.”

“I would never wish that. We all make mistakes and to be honest you are the good one out of all of us. Don’t worry about this. You live and learn.” Scott drove to a drug store. “Wait here.”

Waiting for what felt like hours you imagined Scott as your knight in shining armor. You were hating yourself for feeling this way about some boy but you couldn’t help but get butterflies in your stomach when you pictured his eyes, lips, face, and even his smirk in your head. He was like another drug.

Finally, Scott returned to the car and with him was a couple of bags. “I got you some medicine to help with the mess and the feeling like you’re gonna throw up every minute.”

Scott was a lifesaver!

“I got you medicine also for the pounding in your head. I also got you water and this,” he scooped up a stuffed raccoon (ik this is weird but its the first thing i can think of) placing it in your arms.

“Aww this is so cute Scott. Thank you for all of this, really I truly appreciate all you’ve done from driving me to getting me these meds. Its means a lot.”

“No problem y/n. I always wanted to accompany a beautiful lady in distress.”

“Well you picked the right one.” Nausea was the symptoms you were feeling at that moment. It was unknown to you if it was the drugs, alcohol, or Scott.

“What are you going to name the little guy?” Scott pretended to pet the fake raccoon.

You stared at the stuffed animals eyes and knew what the littler vermin would be called. “Veneno. Its means drugs in Latin.”

Scott giggled. His smile making you weak in the knees. “That’s perfect.”

“I know right-” You hurled on the floor beside his car. It was almost like a continuous cycle. You, vomit, him, help. It was compared to a endless waterfall.

“Thats it.” Scott rubbed soothing circles on your aching back. “Let it all out. I’m here for you and not going anywhere.”

Feeling very sick at that moment, you clutched his hand for support. Finishing letting the drugs exit your body, Scott handed you the water bottle. “You know, you’re one of the good ones as well,” you croaked as your throat was burning.

You drank, letting the cold liquid slide past your throat. Your eyes kept opening and closing. Throwing up takes a lot out of your body. You felt you were used as a punching bag and all you wanted to do was get some sleep.

Scott got in his car and started it. You were a fallen leaf, a wilted flower. Your head fell against Scott’s shoulder - like a dropping petal - and there you fell asleep.

“I think its time to take you home,” Scott whispered.

Starting something with Scott meant something to you. Yes, you may have gotten high at a cheap, smelly party but at least you had the pleasure of meeting a young man who cared.

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nekojitachan · 5 years

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Ghost in You ch2 preview

Ok, unless work blows up on me, I’m hoping to have a new chapter of The Ghost in You up... eee, soonish? I’m out of town next weekend (NYC! Hanging w/ my bestie!) so we’ll see how much time I have for writing and posting. Until then, here’s two scenes - I may post more during the week.

Uhm... think the only triggers are for Mary and vague references to Neil and Andrew’s pasts, past reference to drug use and tending to mild injuries.

*******

“It wasn’t like that,” Neil argued with his mother as he held gauze against the cut on his forehead to staunch the blood. “He was just grateful, it didn’t mean anything more than that.”

The blinds on the small window in the bathroom rattled against the glass as Mary whirled about, her mostly transparent body partially fractured into pieces due to her agitation until she resembled a figure in a badly-jointed, washed-out stained glass window. /That’s not any better, Abram. Gratitude can lead to affection and more./ For a moment her body splintered into thousands of tiny pieces before she reassembled next to him; he fought not to shiver from her nearness, to not flinch when he felt her fingers card through his tangled hair. /Don’t repeat my mistakes, don’t ever repeat my mistakes./ There was a slight tug on the strands for a moment, then she resumed combing through them again.

“I know, Mum, and I won’t,” he promised her with a sad smile. “You’ll never let me.”

/No, I won’t,/ she swore in return before something icy pressed against his forehead, near the gauze, and a mix of love/worry/determination/fear/possessiveness poured into him for a moment. /Tend to that so you can start packing, we need to leave./

He sighed and removed the gauze so he could clean the wound, and focused on tending to it (not bad enough to require stitches, thankfully) and the other scratches, to clean and bandage them so they didn’t get infected. It was something he was used to doing by then, the small injuries inflicted upon him by his mother nothing like the cuts and bullet wounds and fractures he’d suffered from his father or the man’s people before he’d gone to live with Uncle Stuart, and it gave him time to gather his thoughts and come up with an argument against his mother’s latest demand to leave Columbia.

The worst of the scratches tended to, he was debating on if the ones along his left ribs needed band-aids or not when someone rang the doorbell. Mindful of gun in the bedroom, Neil grabbed the sheathed knife he kept stashed on the shelf near the shower holding towels and went to investigate who was at the door – he wasn’t expecting a visitor.

He had to stand on his toes to look out the peephole, and shoved the knife down the back waistband of his pants upon seeing that it was a FedEx deliveryman wearing what appeared to be an authentic uniform. Mary hovered near the side of the door, ready to intervene if needed, as he opened it.

“Neil Josten?” the middle-aged man asked with a friendly smile once he opened the door a slight bit. “I’ve a package for you.” It was on the large size but didn’t look too heavy. “Please sign for it.”

Mary watched as Neil accepted the box, which made the man shiver and complain about the cold, but Neil was reassured when he noticed that the package was from the UK; as soon as he touched it, he could filter through the various layers of people who’d handled it to ‘feel’ Aunt Miriam’s affection and concern. Once it was set inside of the apartment, he entered his name on the electronic device (the sleeves of his sweater extended over his fingers so he didn’t have to endure anymore strange emotions), and nodded as the delivery man wished him a good night before walking away.

/Abram? What is it? Why did you accept it?/

“It’s from Aunt Miriam,” he explained as he picked up the package, wincing a little from the various emotions tied to the box (the people unhappy with their jobs) as well as the tug on various scratches and his sore knees. “Let’s see what she sent, all right?”

/You should be packing,/ Mary reminded him, but without as much force as before, a clear sign that she was curious as well about the box’s contents.

He used the knife to cut the tape on the box, mindful of its contents, and drew in a slow breath when he unfolded the lids and packing paper to reveal a beautiful, pale blue and cream blanket knitted from soft wool in a thick cable stitch pattern bearing the scent of lavender.

/That’s one of your gram’s,/ Mary told him, her face soft with reminiscing. /She made dozens of them, they were all over the house in East London./

“It’s beautiful,” Neil said as he carefully set it on the nearby chair, and revealed carefully wrapped items which turned out to be various knickknacks such as an intricately carved walnut box perfect for holding small items and candlestick holders, a couple of tins of tea, and another blanket of his grandmother’s, that time a grey one with a basket-weave pattern. There was also a note from Aunt Miriam about her wanting to send him a few items to help make his apartment ‘more of a home’.

It would be late in London, so he sent her a text to let her know that everything had arrived safely and to say ‘thank you’, and was surprised when she called back a couple of minutes later as he was carrying the grey blanket to his bed. “You’re still up?”

“We just returned home. How are you doing, Abram?” Miriam sounded a little tired but the affection was clear in her voice; Neil remembered his aunt’s warm hands and bright amber eyes, the way she made him feel comfortable from the start with her gentle smiles and the way she showed concern without being overbearing.

“I’m well, thank you. The new job is challenging but I enjoy helping out the children.”

“I thought that would be a good fit for you.”

“Thank you for the blankets and everything. It’s not quite as cold here in Columbia as London,” at least, not outside, “but they’ll definitely help to brighten up the place and make it more comfortable.”

“That’s good, I was hoping to help you become more settled,” Miriam told him. “You deserve a home at last, there’s no reason to keep running. It’s not right for a young man like you to be so restless, it’s time for you to set down some roots. We’re worried about you and want you to be happy.”

Neil noticed how Mary had gone ‘still’ during the conversation, how she hung in the air like a projection of some kind, so close to him to raise goosebumps on his skin and his breath to condense when he breathed out. “Again, thank you. I don’t want to keep you up so maybe we can talk more tomorrow?”

“You’re always such a thoughtful child, I wish Ally took after you a bit more,” Miriam said with obvious affection and a bit of chagrin. “Do you need a roommate, perchance?”

“Hmm, perhaps I should be moving on….”

His aunt laughed and insisted that she was just teasing, and wished him a good night after promising to call in a day or two. As soon as she hung up, he held the phone against his chest and gazed at his mother. “They’ll wonder if I move on so soon,” he warned; he wasn’t 100% certain that Mary’s brothers could sense ghosts, too, that it was indeed a Hatford trait… but he felt his suspicions firm up when she slowly drifted away instead of insist that he pack the duffel bag so they could leave.

/Brew us some tea, Abram,/ she said instead, /and I’ll tell you a story about your gram./

He smiled as he hurried to obey, content that he’d won a reprieve for the time being.

*******

Abby confirmed what Andrew had suspected, that he had a couple of bruised ribs, which was such a banner way to end the work week, wasn’t it? Then she wrote him a script for some lovely pain pills and muscle relaxers, which made him hate the puzzle that was Neil Josten a little less (a little), cleaned up his scraped palms (he shouldn’t be bothered with such trivial things after everything he’d endured in the past, which meant he was growing soft and so was unacceptable), and walked him to his car. “I don’t see any rough spots where you tripped,” she said as she searched the parking lot. “You must be working too hard, I’m going to tell David to give you the day off on Monday.”

Part of Andrew rebelled at the idea, of him not being there for the kids, but each time he drew in a breath there was a stab of pain along the left side of his chest, which he knew would be there for at least a couple of weeks at best. As much as he hated the feeling of letting the kids down, it made sense to rest up over the weekend and Monday rather than having things drag things out too long. “Those meds better be good,” he gritted out past the pain.

There was a flash of offense in Abby’s brown eyes before she shook her head. “I don’t tell you how to do your job, do I?” She helped him to the GS and even into the driver’s seat before she spoke again. “You need to heal before you can work again, all right? I know you worry about the kids, but listen to me and take it easy for a few days. David will make sure that everything is covered here.” She looked as if she wanted to lean in and give him a kiss on the forehead or a hug before she reconsidered. “Call me if you need anything. Anything.”

He managed a curt salute, and only because he knew she was sincere about that ‘anything’ before he closed the door and started the car; he wanted to go to the nearest pharmacy, get the prescriptions filled, then go home and collapse into his bed for the entire weekend as soon as possible.

Well, he did need to fire off an email to Renee at some point, but first, pain meds.

At least it didn’t take long to get the damn prescriptions filled, during which he hobbled around the store and grabbed a few things to tide him over for the weekend (heating pad, lots of ice cream and chocolate, hot patches for his ribs, so on and so forth) while the pharmacy worked its magic. He had Uber Eats prepare an order for him on the way home, so a few minutes after he reached his apartment, the food was delivered (enough take-out to last him the next three days), and after eating some cheese and jalapeño pizza, he grabbed a pint of ice cream while he typed out an email to Renee asking her what the fuck was going on at work – with the new guy, especially.

Then he took some meds and went to bed.

For once Abby had done some good, because despite the pain and discomfort, he slept through the night and into the morning, spared any disquieting dreams for once, and got up to relieve his bladder then stand beneath the hot water long enough for some of the stiffness to fade away before he had enough coffee, muscle relaxers and breakfast burritos that he felt semi-human to look at his phone to see what he’d missed during the last ten hours or so spent unconscious.

Nicky had called him, which wasn’t much of a surprise, as had Kevin and Roland… and Renee. Only the last caused a flicker of annoyance, since he’d hoped to talk to her about what the hell her cryptic emails meant and if she had any idea what was going on with a certain Neil Josten, how he could have made Andrew’s ribs become bruised without even touching him.

Even worse? She merely left a voicemail about how she was sorry to miss him and would arrange something for him until she could speak to him again, and hoped that he was well. He had a few dark thoughts about her untimely sabbatical as he deleted the message while he slurped his sugary caffeine concoction while he debated on if he wanted to stretch out on his bed or the couch.

The couch won out (closer to the coffee maker and one bathroom), where he spent several hours drifting in and out of a comfortable haze from the pain pills and muscle relaxers while the television played on in the background until a loud knocking noise interrupted his semi-doze.

He pulled the microfleece blanket which Nicky had given him for Christmas last year up to his nose and was determined to ignore the knocking at first, lulled into a comfortable drug haze and unwilling to move… except the sound kept going on and on and on. His annoyance growing as the pounding continued, he wondered if he could explain him repeatedly stabbing whoever was on the other side of the door as an effect of the drugs while he forced himself onto his feet and stumbled forward to stop the awful noise.

It turned out to be Allison Reynolds banging on his door. Oh, wonderful, the justifiable homicide case just became that much stronger.

As if reading his thoughts, Allison held up her hands in a defensive position while giving him a sour look. “Put away the knives and let me in, Renee sent me here,” she declared. “She’s the only reason I’m dealing with your homicidal ass on a weekend.”

His right hand hovering over his left armband while he wavered on his feet, Andrew considered those words for a couple of seconds before he clicked his tongue. “She better have a good reason for this or else I’ll slit your throat after all.”

“Such a fucking asshole,” Allison muttered as she entered the apartment, dressed as if she expected there to be cameras for some type of photo shoot inside; she wore six inch high heels with red linings on the soles, a black suede mini skirt and an ivory silk blouse with a oxblood suede cropped jacket over it with her blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun, her makeup ‘subtle’ enough to mean it probably had taken half an hour to perfect.

Andrew went into the kitchen and made himself another mug of coffee, which he didn’t offer to his ‘guest’; she narrowed her blue eyes and pressed her glossed lips into a thin line but sat down at the table with her small purse set in front of her. “Again, Renee sent me here or else I’d be having a nice champagne brunch with Matt and Dan, which is preferable than dealing with you.”

“I can always end your suffering,” Andrew offered as he slumped over his coffee mug after he sat down, the ache in his ribs a dull throb.

“So generous,” Allison sneered as she fished through her purse for something. “Anyway, this is what Renee wanted you to have,” she said as she set a cloth-wrapped item down on the table. “And no, all I know is that she called me last night and told me to give it to you, that you had to have it. She was rather insistent about that and that you accept it, and was upset that she couldn’t talk to you. So you take it, you monster, just so I can tell her that you did and it’s one less thing for her to worry about, and answer your damn phone next time.”

She didn’t wait for any explanation from Andrew (not that he’d give her one), or questions from him, either (he didn’t have any, not when it was clear that she had no clue what the hell was going on, not when Renee was being just as cryptic with her girlfriend as she was with him). Andrew sat there and sipped his coffee while Allison left with her signature flounce, and didn’t even flinch when the door slammed shut a few seconds later (except to remind himself to go lock it in a minute or two).

He had about half of his drink before he pulled the wrapped bundle to him to examine its contents (to see what Renee had sent him), undoing the red string around it and flipping open the unbleached linen to expose what turned out to be an ornately carved cross (no figure on it at least) of some unknown wood with a note wrapped around it.

How disappointing.

Renee’s writing was as neat and tiny as always: Andrew, if you’ve received this, it means that something has happened which requires you to wear it. I know that you don’t possess proper faith, but sometimes a leap is required, or at least belief in the person asking you to trust them. That is the time now, and I am asking – put on the cross and trust me, will you? I believe that you will be safer for it, and I want you to be safe. There are things in the world which can’t be easily seen and defended against with simple steel, and I wish we’d had enough time to talk about what lies in the shadows and beyond before I left. Until we can, all I can ask is that you have faith in me, at least, and what I ask of you. I promise, I will explain when I return – Renee.

He stared at the words for several minutes, until the remaining coffee went cold and the letters wavered before his eyes, until he clicked his tongue and decided to put the awful thing around his neck after all. He swore that it felt warm as it settled against his breastbone, which he put down to his imagination and the meds, before he forced himself to stand up (moving was going to be unpleasant for the next few weeks) so he could lock the front door then resettle on the couch.

He used his phone to send a new email to Renee, one where he asked her once again what the hell was going on and why she thought him wearing a bit of religious flash was a good idea. Also? He didn’t appreciate the cryptic comments and expected a straight answer very soon – there was voice mail for a reason, dammit.

Did she know about Neil Josten? She did hang out a lot with Moreau, so did Frenchie say something about the new guy to her?

Why did Andrew feel annoyed about the thought of Josten and Moreau being all buddy-buddy? About there perhaps being something more between the two young men?

He took more meds and curled up with the heating pad and slept as much as possible, the usual nightmares held at bay for once, and ignored his phone since Renee didn’t seem to be answering his questions.

On Tuesday, he slapped the medicated wraps around his bruised ribs and took some over the counter pain pills before he shuffled off to work, and dealt with a frantic Nicky as well as an assessing Aaron in the break room. “Bruised ribs, eh? It’s gonna suck to be you for a while,” his oh-so understanding brother said in-between sips of coffee.

“Oh my god, why didn’t you say something? I could have brought over food! Eric made this amazing stew on Saturday, we had plenty of leftovers!” Nicky exclaimed. “You could have told us!” Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re wearing a necklace? I thought you didn’t go for stuff like that.”

Andrew flipped him off before he accepted the cream-filled donut which Robin offered. “I have work to do, unlike some people. Leave me the hell alone.” He gave Nicky a warning stare before he turned around to head to his office, and ignored the shouted offers of help his cousin gave as he left.

Once settled at his desk (with his door locked), he made sure to better hide the metal chain of the cross necklace beneath his shirt before he went through the emails from Monday.

Bee and Dan had helped to cover for much of his cases while he’d been off, so he didn’t feel as if he’d lost a lot of ground, especially with Peter Minkin. Still, there was something he wanted to do, so he forced himself onto his feet (seriously, bruised ribs did suck) and went off to the one hallway leading to the south courtyard which was closed off that time of year because of the cooler weather. When he heard the sound of hushed voices in the usually deserted corridor, he slowed his steps and ducked into a doorway to wait until one of Nicky’s cases, Ariel Toya, walked past while shoving something down the front of her clingy, bright blue top, then stepped out when Seth Gordon came by a few seconds later.

“Fuck!” Seth took a hasty step back with his clenched hands raised as if to fend off Andrew, probably a hold-over from the days when he’d been a strung-out kid doing whatever it took to survive long enough for his next hit. “What the hell are you doing here, Minyard?”

“I thought that was my question.” Andrew leaned against the door frame, his arms folded lightly over his chest in a familiar gesture which normally put his hands near his knives – if Wymack allowed him to show up to work armed. “So what is it? Pot? It better not be anything stronger than that.” The man was on thin enough ice as it was, if he was selling dope to kids; Wymack might have helped Seth to get clean and to earn an IT degree, but he wouldn’t forgive him for selling drugs at the Foxhole.

As it was, the only thing keeping Andrew still, bruised ribs or not, lack of knives or not, was the fact that the old man had a good grasp of what went down in the Foxhole, and so probably had an idea of what Seth was doing.

“What? Hell no,” Seth snapped as he shook his head. “There’s no way I’d do that! Not to these kids.” When Andrew scoffed, Seth’s dark brown eyes blazed with an anger that appeared more righteous than guilty. “It’s just cigarettes, okay? I don’t even charge the kids anything, I just let them know that they can come to me and I’ll sneak ‘em a few, help ‘em out with their cravings and keep ‘em from doing something stupid like try to steal any or go after something worse.” His anger faded as he let out a steady breath and rubbed at his inner left forearm, which bore similar scars to Matt’s. “Turn me in to Wymack if you don’t believe me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Andrew drawled. “And why should any of us believe you?” So far the story and Seth’s reaction seemed believable, which was the only reason why Wymack wasn’t becoming involved.

“Because I’m not going to fuck this up, okay?” Seth took to glaring again as he jabbed a finger in Andrew’s direction, the flush back on his light brown cheeks yet he knew better than to touch him. “I know what you think about me, you and your family, but I do more than just play on a computer all day and I’m taking classes at night so I can help out these kids, too. Little more than a year and I can be an addiction counselor.”

How impressive. “That’s if you don’t get in trouble for handing out tobacco to minors,” Andrew reminded him.

“Fucking asshole,” Seth muttered as his hands clenched into fists once more. “What do you want? If you were going to get me in trouble, you’d be halfway to Wymack’s office already.”

Seth Gordon wasn’t a complete moron. “Neil Josten’s personnel files by the end of the day,” Andrew told him with a curt nod. “And if I find out you’re giving cigarettes to kids who aren’t already addicted or ‘charging’ them? It’s not Wymack you need to be worried about.” It was one thing to help wean the kids who already were addicted slowly off their habit, but another thing entirely to prey on any of them.

“I’m not going to harm these kids, you asshole,” Seth called out as Andrew walked away.

No, he wouldn’t, Andrew would make certain of it; he wouldn’t tell Wymack about what Seth was doing, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pass it on to Renee in an upcoming email as ‘interesting’ work gossip. At the least, she’d let Allison know, who might want to give her ex-boyfriend an earful for his dubious life choices.

Andrew had time for another cup of coffee before his appointment with Peter and Josten; he told himself that he wasn’t eager to see the young man, to gage his reaction after what had happened in the parking lot on Friday.

To find out why Renee had insisted that Andrew wear some stupid cross when he didn’t believe in such things.

Despite leaving for the one play room a little early, Andrew wasn’t the first to arrive, what a surprise. No, Josten was already there, dressed in his usual wardrobe of worn jeans and overlarge sweater, with the thick strands of his dark brown hair mostly hiding the bandaged cut on his forehead.

The younger man gave him a cautious stare as he once more stood off to the side by one of the bookshelves, mindful to remain out of reach, and Andrew thought he caught a flash of guilt over the way that he moved slowly to his usual chair at the table in the middle of the room, a flash that was quickly smothered.

Now what did Josten have to be guilty about, hmm? Andrew gazed at his colleague while he tapped his fingers against the table, possessed by a sudden urge for a cigarette, and shivered as there was a blast of cold for a couple of seconds. He thought that Josten frowned a moment later for some reason, but was distracted by Abby arriving with Peter.

“Mr. Minyard!” Peter broke into a wide smile and waved to him while he greeted him in Russian, then followed it by managing a mostly understandable ‘I hope you’re all right,’ in English which made Abby beam and even drew a slight smile from Josten.

“He worked on that yesterday,” Josten murmured before he shifted forward a little so he could begin translating.

They spent a few minutes with Peter asking Andrew about his weekend and if he really was okay, which Andrew assured him that he was fine (oh, was there a slight twitch from Josten at that?); it was worth the deviation from Peter’s routine to build a better sense of trust with the boy, to allow him a sense of curiosity and put any fears he had to rest. Andrew wouldn’t be in the child’s life forever, not when the goal was to help him get better and find him a safe home with people who’d care for him… but Andrew never cut himself off from any of his ‘kids’ and checked up on them as much as he could.

Once Peter had settled down, Andrew asked him some more questions about his mother and father, about the fights they had and how the woman would do her best to protect Peter; he was slowly building the case against Peter’s abusive father, to show that the woman wouldn’t have abandoned her son, as the asshole claimed. Josten assisted in keeping Peter calm, and by the end of the hour there was a little more information to hand over to the police, a few more blocks added to the wall that would lock away Peter’s father a long, long time come.

Josten made to leave as soon as Abby took Peter away, but Andrew threw out his right arm to stop the man, the motion alone enough to divert his flight. “What about Peter’s English assessment?”

Andrew was given a sour look for the question. “I sent it to you via email last week, and as you can see, he’s started English classes this week,” Josten informed him as he settled back against the bookshelf, the sleeves of his dark grey sweater tugged over his hands and gaze wary beneath the strands of his bangs.

“With you? Are you handling his English lessons?”

“No, that’ll be someone who’s certified to teach, I only handle translations and can help him with phrases here and there.” Josten cast a longing glance to the door before he focused on Andrew once more. “So unless it’s about what happens in our sessions or an evaluation, we’ve nothing to talk about.”

Oh, someone was a hopeful fool, weren’t they? “There’s something off about you. You don’t add up,” Andrew informed the liar as he slowly, carefully, stood to his feet.

Josten was quiet for a couple of seconds while Andrew swore he felt a quick blast of chill again, off to the far left. “I’m not a math equation.”

“No, but I’m going to solve you none the less,” Andrew promised as he tapped his right fingers against the top of the table in quick succession. “I won’t allow anything to endanger these kids.”

“Neither will I.” Josten’s sharp jaw (so much of the man was sharp, was defined angles and slopes and jutting bones poking through thick layers of cloth, were invitations for hands to stroke along and cup and- and Andrew hated himself for that treasonous thought) clenched in obvious anger while his eyes flashed with the emotion before he managed to get a hold on himself. “I’d never bring harm down on a child.”

Hmm, he sounded so sincere… but how often had Andrew heard adults say that they had a child’s best interest at heart, had watch them smile and promise to look after him, only to turn around and lay hands on him (and worse) once they were alone?

“I’m watching you,” Andrew said as he rocked back on his heels. “And I’ll figure you out, too, whatever it is you’re hiding.”

“Fuck you.” Josten glared for a couple of seconds before he stalked out of the room. As he left, several items from the bookshelf tumbled to the floor, including a few heavy ones such as books and wooden toys that fell perilously close to Andrew.

He frowned as he went over to see if the shelf had fallen free from its fastenings somehow – and almost ended on his face as he tripped at a ripple in the carpet, saved only by catching on to the back of the chair. Muttered curses slipped past his clenched teeth for about half a minute as pain washed through him from his jostled ribs, and when he finally could stand upright again, he left the room (and the mess it contained) for the next occupants to deal with so he could have another cup of coffee and a pain pill.

Seth better come through with Josten’s files sooner rather than later, because Andrew was going to be in a full body cast if he had to deal with the enigma much longer.

Renee should have sent him a damn four-leaf clover.

*******

Obviously I don’t recommend what Seth’s doing here (giving teenagers cigarettes, even if with the best of intentions), but he means well.

#nekojitachanfics #ghost in you fic #neil josten #andrew minyard #mary hatford #the foxes #all for the game #aftg #ghosts

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j-axxie · 5 years

Text

intertwined (chapter one)

tw: hospitals, blood, nightmares, scars, fighting. (let me know if there's more!)

I laid my head back and quietly hummed, looking up at the muted TV as some cartoon played with talking fish. I could hear Sean shift in his sleep, and I looked over. He was fast asleep and I knew he wouldn’t wake easy, so I took a few moments to actually look at him. He looked generally the same as he had months ago when he had woken up for the first time. His hair was longer and I noticed it was braided on the top, I wondered who did it for a few seconds as my eyes wandered. His beard had grown too, and he seemed to be a bit weaker in general. He was definitely healthy, yeah, but his eyes sunk in and he seemed frail. Was he eating enough? My eyes continued to trail when they stopped, and I felt a tingle of fear. His neck had a pale healed scar. I had noticed it before, but now that my head was clear I knew who, or what had caused it. I raised my hand to my own bandages and took a deep breath. I didn’t need to panic, I was safe in the hospital.

I had been here for a few hours, Jackie had brought me my schoolwork from home and had gone with Marvin to pack bags for me and my brother for when we stayed with them. My Maths was done, my English tucked away for tomorrow, My Biology was to be ignored and my APUSH had been finished in the library. I was a transfer student from America. I had moved to Brighton halfway through the year so I had to finish all my American classes online before I could join this ‘elite private school’ my mother wanted me to join with Grayson. I assumed it was because we’d stay on campus, away from her. Which I didn't mind, at all! As I thought over my homework answers, my hand played with the fabric of my shirt. I was tired, but no matter how hard I tried every time I tried to sleep I just saw Anti again and again. I grunted, throwing my hands down, and then yelping in pain as my IV dug deeper. I slowly brought my arm up and hissed. It was painful but I ignored it and I slowly sunk into my bed. I’d try to sleep once more, and if I couldn’t I’ll tell a nurse to knock me out.

I slowly opened my eyes into a red area. As my eyes adjusted to the minimal light I noticed it was a hallway. A long hallway. I shakily stood and felt something bounce in my pocket. Grabbing it I felt its smooth surface, it was an oblong sort of dowel like shape. I pulled out my hand and admired the grey lighter in my hand. Flicking my thumb on the back twice it lit and provided a small bit of light I could control. Flicking it off, for the time being, I walked down the hall, making slow calculated steps. I entered a dark room, flicking on my lighter as I heard footsteps and giggling. I turned around and stared into the darkness… there was no one. The footsteps sped up and I held my lighter out.

“Hello?” I said shakily.

“Samantha..” a snake-like voice called before stepping into the door frame. He was as tall as my father, but the shadows didn’t show where his figure started or stopped. Everything seemed to freeze as fear climbed up my body.

“W-o..” my words faded as my voice wavered and my body shook. He stepped towards me and shoved me harshly, I slammed up against the wall as my head bounced against the rough corner of it. I screamed in shock and pain. My hand going to my head and feeling some sort of liquid. Anti, as I now knew him as, grabbed me and lifted me like I was air by my throat. His fingernails digging in, I grunted in pain as my vision blurred and he tossed me like a ragdoll across the room.

“Where are they..!” I heard someone shout, as my eyes focused back on the doorway Anti was staring me down, facing in like he was about to re-enter.

“What do you want from me!?” The voice sobbed and shook. It was my fathers, I knew before he even started saying the second word. Anti’s head turned slowly and demonically. Sending chills up my spine. I saw a green light shine near Anti’s head and I screamed in anger trying to signal my dad to leave.

“Run! Please!” I cried, pushing myself to a sitting position, my whole body ached and my vision began to blur as a massive headache rushed over me. I fell back down as I completely blacked out.

I awoke to the sound of laughing, which threw me off guard. I kept my eyes glued shut, and fired my breathing to slow back down. I could hear three separate laughs, a higher one and two medium one.

“Sean! Cmon, that was a horrible joke.” The highest voice said. They were laughing and I could hear the smile on their face.

“I thought it was good, Marv.” Sean’s voice said. It was raspy but clear enough to understand. He just sounded like he was drugged on pain meds. It was Marvin talking which calmed me enough to flutter my eyes open. As I raised my arms to run my eyes I heard a clunk and felt something cold tug on my wrists.

“Well, good morning, Sam,” Marvin said, walking over and softly undoing the handcuffs. Their tone was a bit more nervous than usual.

“Why did you lock me up… did I do something?” I asked, and my throat was so sore. Was I screaming?

“You had a nightmare or somethin’. You were screamin’, thrashin’, scratchin’ your skin. It was scary as fuck, after someone could calm you down enough, we locked you up so you wouldn’t scratch yourself again, love.” Marvin said softly, rubbing my wrists where they were red from me pulling on them. I hate my sensitive skin. I looked at my arms and noticed the red marks. They weren't bleeding, but I noticed how red they were, they almost covered my whole arm too. Long lines, irritated and itchy. I had no desire to scratch them and make it worse.

“Doesn’t look that bad,” I said softly, staring down my arms. Marvin snapped and a mirror appeared in their hand and they set it in mine. I knew they could do that, but I was surprised Jackie didn’t shout at them for wasting their energy like usual.

“Your neck, darlin’. That’s the worse part.” Marvin said softly, fixing his hair with their now free hands. As I took the mirror and pointed it to my neck I saw the bloody red lines, clear as day. Bruising and swelling up. I gently ran my fingers along the wounds, gasping as I pressed down too hard and popped one open. Marvin turned and grabbed some gauze and handed it to me. I set it on my neck and huffed, I hated being in hospitals and I hated this pity.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you guys last night,” I said shakily, pulling my legs to my chest. Marvin hushed me and sat down on the edge of the bed. Pulling up the blanket over my legs and grabbing one from the edge of the bed and draping it over my shoulders.

“We know you didn’t mean to, it was still scary seeing you freak out. Did you have a dream?” Marvin said softly. I hummed a yes response.

“About what?” Marvin said, curling their fingers around the fabric of their pale purple shirt. If I was thinking clearly I knew I’d remember every detail. I looked over Marvin’s features (or what I could see of them) as I thought. But nothing came to mind except for two things.

“I can’t remember much, I just remember being terrified,” I whispered, “it was red. Just everything was red, I was bleeding. That’s all I remember..”

Marvin scooter closer and wrapped an arm around me, “Hey love, it’s gonna be alright. No one's gonna hurt ya here.”

A glance between Jackie and Marvin sent confusion washing through my brain. What was actually going on?

“Showers open if you wanna clean the blood off ya,” Marvin said, kissing my forehead like they always did when I was younger to comfort me. They slipped off the bed and exited the room, coming back seconds later with Henrik who unhooked me from all the massive machines. I grabbed a change of clothes, hair products I needed and a towel. Doing a last look at the room. I slid into the bathroom.

#blood tw #hospital tw #nightmare tw #fighting tw #scars tw #jacksepticeye #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #henrik von schneeplestein #ninja's intertwined

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delcat177 · 6 years

Photo

I want to preface this by saying I’ve had some really awesome things happen this month and I’m doing just fine mentally and I’m honestly more amused than anything at this point because you have to laugh b u t a medical timeline of the month so far may explain some things. Medical/TMI under cut, the tl;dr is holy shit is it ever Fandomversary Month, I feel entirely reconnected with Woundson. Also if I’ve had any contact with you or posted anything between March 13 to the 26th-ish that seemed really bizarre and/or offputting I am extremely sorry I was apparently super fucked up on pain meds but not realizing it.

a n y w a y

March 7th: Have intense jaw ache, attribute it to tension headache.

March 8th: Intense jaw ache continues, attribute it to TMJ.

March 9th: Jaw ache has developed into swelling. Figure it must be a tooth at this point, call dentist; it’s the weekend but dentist is awesome and sends in an antibiotic scrip when I describe symptoms and fits me in first thing Tuesday (they’re closed Mondays).

March 10-12th: Continued treatment of pain and swelling with Aleve; unable to close mouth fully so @qglas is shredding chicken into tiny chunks so I can lizard-chaw it down but teeth do this right??

March 13th: Walk into dentist’s office, get stared at in horror. Apparently teeth do not “do that”. Quickly get probable diagnosis of salivary gland infection/salivary duct clog and sent to Urgent Care. Diagnosis confirmed, put on two heavy-duty antibotics, a steroid, and hydrocodone. Will realize later that attending physician’s comment of “These things can get way out of hand” was not a caution to take my meds but instead a comment on how incredibly fucked up the left side of my face is. Will also realize later that “can get up to about a 7″ was grossly under-reporting pain.

TIME?????: Insert ten days of prescription side effects and infection causing me to trip balls, denial/lack of understanding that I am tripping balls, lingering symptoms, and standard antibiotic side effects all combining to effectively recreate Allie Brosh’s “Texas” story down to the “I would shank an infant for juice” part but without any actual life-threatening danger. Highlights: Complete loss of internal ability to tell time, turning into a series of shapes repeatedly, loss of ability to determine if something is very small or just far away, internal auditory hallucinations including a small voice saying “yeah!” in a peppy tone over and over. Somewhere in here I get a yeast infection as a secondary symptom from the antibiotics.

March 23rd: Finish run of medication and realize I have been out of my goddamned gourd for nearly two weeks, but at least I’m finally over it, and the salivary gland infection has been taken care of. Plan to pick up treatment for the yeast infection the next day.

March 24th: It fucking snows, meaning I don’t have time to pick up Monistat before going to a rock and gem show with my family. In a fit of social anxiety paranoia over the idea of forgetting myself and scratching in public (and also stupidity), I figure I’ll self-treat the itching with Vitamin E oil. Because this is INTENSELY FUCKING STUPID, I have now managed to self-inflict hives over my entire upper body and legs because as good as I am at freaking out, my allergies are better at it.

March 25th (night): Finally get to go to the hecking store, pick up Monistat and also topical ointment for the hives. Head home feeling good about finally having the situation on lock. Trip over a curb onto pavement, skin my knee, rip my bag, and more or less erase the skin on my palm.

March 26th (early morning): Sit on the edge of the bathtub for a solid 10-15 minutes after finishing debriding and washing my hand just laughing intermittently because at this point I can’t tell if God is angry or if I’m an angry god but I am somehow still genuinely grateful things are not worse and also really what are you gonna do

I want to reiterate, I’m doing really well. The rock show was great, I got to pet three (3!) tiny (TINY!) puppies and CARRY ONE AROUND IN A SLING DURING, I scored an amazing fossilized skull fragment for fivebux, and I even managed to snag literally the last ticket to Weird Al’s show in May which is like enough good fortune in a single moment that I could understand everything else as a balancer. Just, like, basically...honestly sometimes reaction shots don’t cut it, here’s the Big Fucking Mood of the month:

youtube

I feel so innately connected with all my characters right now, it’s almost sad how the acute reminder that I am a ridiculous hot mess of flesh wounds and bad ideas 70% of the time is also 70% of the explanation of my Types

anyway here’s Woundsonwall I’m going to spend the next five days moving around the house very carefully and hoping I don’t open the mailbox and get bitten by a black mamba or something. I’m doing my best to catch up on shit I missed, sorry if I passed you by but I reckon I’ve been a mite distracted.

#state of the delcat address #beware the ides of march #del's fragile body #hallucination mention #altered mental state mention #prescription meds cw #unsanitary #tmi warning #fandomversary #about me #welcome to my silly life #reaction shots #we've had a doozy of a day #did i not reblog a chain letter post in 30 seconds or something #am i being haunted by a very small ghost #the world may never know #long post #longpost #scrolling

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themagicnut-blog · 6 years

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Chapter 10: Butterfly Kisses pt. 2

While Dad and my step-mom and sister were down in June 2016, someone had noticed a spot on dad’s back that he promised to have tested for skin cancer once he got back up north.

He was always stubborn about going to the Dr. But all of the men on that side of the family were. Plus men are babies in general when it comes to that kind of stuff.

The tests had come back positive. Stage 2 melanoma. No big deal, right? They would just remove it, and the affected lymph nodes. Quick out patient procedure. Nothing to worry about.

The procedure had been scheduled for the end of October 2016, after he had flown back up from the week he spent down here with my son and I after he was born. Of course he was nervous. Heart issues and high blood pressure run in the family, and just being in a hospital setting was enough to send his blood pressure through the roof.

I remember him telling me that they almost didn’t do the procedure because of his blood pressure. It was too high. But instead of sending him home, they doped him up with meds and what not to help bring it down, and by 4:55 p.m. he was calling me still loopy from meds, and on his way home. But they had removed everything and all was good. Now all we were waiting on was the final tests to come back and confirm it had all been removed. I was in the middle of unloading groceries when he called and really only half paid attention to what he was saying before I rushed off the phone.

Shortly after that I received a picture message of his green pee LOL He was still feeling pretty good from the meds I guess. We texted back and forth awhile before I left his last message on read.

Like I said, the communication had made a drastic change for the better once my son came along.

Around midnight I had woken up to feed Cason, and while I was scrolling through my phone a Facebook message popped up from him asking what I was doing awake. We went back and forth for a good 30 minutes cracking jokes at each other, having a serious talk about the procedure, how his pain levels were now that meds were wearing off, and as I was starting to doze off I told him I was heading back to bed and he should too

Me, 10/29/2016 12:40 A.M.: I’m gonna try to get some sleep you should too lol Love you, night night

Dad, 10/29/2016 12:40 A.M.: Soon I hope, love you

Dad, 10/29/2016 3:05 A.M.: Y u up

The worst part about that last message is that I had woken up around 3 a.m. I even briefly considered messaging him to see how he was doing before falling back asleep. And I didn’t because he hadn’t been active in almost two hours. I assumed he was sleeping. Just 5 more minutes and I could’ve talked to him again.

October 29, 2016 5:30 A.M.

*Phone vibrating out of control on the night stand*

Why is my step mom calling me? Might as well get up and feed the baby…

“Sissy…*hyperventilating step-mom* SISSY wake up! Daddy. They’re taking Daddy.”

I couldn’t understand most of what she was saying through the heavy sobs. What I got out of it was that they were rushing my dad to the hospital. They thought he was having an allergic reaction to something he had been on from the procedure just 12 hours ago. Something about his tongue and neck being swollen. I told her she needed to calm down for my 12 year old sisters sake...all she said was that we can't lose daddy...And that she would have to call me back, and to pray. Pray hard.

I had gotten up and gone to the living room with the little one to nurse him in the rocking chair. We had been having quite a hard time with the breastfeeding, but I was still trying.

What seemed like an eternity had passed, when in reality about 15 minutes had gone by, before my phone rang again.

I honestly can’t even explain what I was feeling during that phone call. I don't remember a whole lot of the conversation beyond the initial sobs and my stepmom barley managing to spit out that he was gone. They weren't able to save him. My sister was bawling in the back ground. First thing I do remember is handing our son to George before I lost it completely. And then I called my mom. Shortly after we hung up she got to the house, and more family started calling to check on me as the news spread. By 8 a.m. we were all headed to grandma's where the rest of the family had gathered. I didn't see much of my son that day. The family took turns snuggling my dad's first grandbaby as a form of comfort while I sat outside with the rest of the cousins who were also avoiding all the stories and Facebook posts. Beer:30 started around 9 a.m. that day. Right along with my cigarette smoking habit that I had given up once I found out I was pregnant.

I know, shame on me.

They ruled it a heart attack. To this day I still feel like he would be here if they hadn't sent him home so soon. If they would've just kept him 24 hours to make sure his blood pressure was back to normal and everything was alright... But you can't sit around thinking of the what if's. It's not healthy. It doesn't change anything.

Life happens. You move on.

That's what I tell myself anyway...and anyone who still asks how I'm handling my father passing.

He had plans to fly back down with my sister and stepmom on Halloween. My stepmom and sister decided to keep the flight and arrived super late on Halloween night. My stepgrandma and stepbrother came to the house to surprise them once they got here. After the long hugs and them finally meeting their grandson and nephew for the first time, I got the little one to bed and we converged on the back porch to drink a few beers and talk. Again, most of that night is fuzzy. I was feeling pretty numb at that point. George was already making my father's death about him and freaking out over how quiet I was being. Apparently my response of "he's dead. He really wasn't around much to begin with. It's life," when he would try to get to me to talk about it just pissed him off. But George knew about the relationship (or lack thereof) that I had with my father...

Don't pry.

Just leave it be.

Even when I told him I just needed some time to process things and I would talk when I was ready he'd blow up on me and it would turn into an argument. But anyway, back to the back porch after my stepmom got into town... So, were all sitting back there. Me, stepmomma, brother, and stepgrandma. My sister had stayed inside with the baby and to nap. Stepmomma started going into more detail about what happened that morning, and everyone was crying but me. At one point they had all gotten up to group up my stepmom who was full fledged bawling, and I continued to sit in my chair, lost in thought, until she got up and dropped to her knees in front of me. She apologized. She apologized for taking daddy away from me. For not being able to save him. Promised that she did everything she could, and then continued apologizing. And what did I do? I consoled her. I played mom. I told her that she couldn't blame herself. And not once did I cry. I was too angry to cry. Angry with God. Angry with the doctors. Angry with myself for all the years of resentment that I could no longer take back. Angry with myself for being so jealous of my sister for her getting all of this time with my dad, when in reality he got to be there for things like my high school graduation that she'll never get to have now. Angry that my son wasn't gonna get to know my dad, his grandpa. Angry that he was gone when things were finally getting good. After more crying (on everyone else's part) and a few more beers, everyone went to bed. More family piled in the next day and everyone started making plans and arrangements for dad's service. I didn't have much part in the plans besides making sure that it wasn't a fancy event, and letting everyone know we'd be having a fire at my place and drinking afterwards...an actual celebration. The way dad would've wanted it. And again, George managed to make it about him. I still don't remember exactly what happened...basically he pitched a fit over something stupid because he had drank to much and decided to disappear for two hours with his phone turned off. Typical move for George. By the time he got back "we were over" and "he would watch our son for the service and then he was gone." Normal banter after we fight. You know how it goes. Strike 1. And of course this was all right after he had been telling me everyday since my dad had passed that he would never leave my side and always be there for me and to take care of me.

Ha, what a joke.

He made sure to catch a good buzz the night of the service too. And instead of staying sober to help me out with our son so that maybe I could be spending some time with my family, he was outside slamming beers and talking with a "family friend" that's quite the tramp and was getting awfully friendly. He didn't even noticed when I walked up and was standing right next to him until she made it a point of acknowledging me.

Strike 2.

We decided to have one last get together at grandma's the Sunday before everyone had to go back home. And suprise, I was left to tend to the baby, while George got drunk and spent time with my family. Oh, and the overly friendly family friend that just so happened to be everywhere he was when I would get 5 minutes away from my son.

My sister can be quite annoying, and she tends to show affection through physical pain...especially towards our brothers, and my boyfriends over the years. So, she was picking on George. George decided to respond with a little bit too much force (but that's what he does, especially when he's been drinking) and ended up welting the back of my sisters leg with a corn hole bean bag...and made her cry. My stepmom got in his face about it, as any mother would. And George jumped on the defensive side quick...which turned into him leaving, followed by a bunch of "fuck you" "fuck your family" "just because her dad died doesn't mean she has to be a little bitch" and then telling me that we were over and I could bring his stuff to him and that he wanted his half of the money out of the account. At this point he sounds like the adults in Charlie Brown any time we fight. Wah wah wah wah But this was the 3rd strike. Because now you've officially shown your ass in front of my family. And what did I do about it? Excused his behavior. As always. Jumped to his defense. And as usual, by the time I got home things were fine. My stepmom and sister left the next day and they didn't even acknowledge George before leaving. Not that he left the bedroom for them to do so.

#somethingsneverchange

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fanficimagery · 7 years

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@leonygunawan said: HEY HEY ITS ME AGAIN SURPRISE SURPRISE!! ive come back with a genius idea of jeff x reader where jeff inflamed his rotating cuff (i googled this btw) and y/n is so excited to treat him bc y/n have always been the one that got sick or injured and jeff always treats her like y/n is a fucking queen. She would bring his books, drive him to school, feed him(?), dress him or shower him if you feel comfortable writing that part but if you don't just leave that one thank you so much… again for writing!

Author's Note: I incorporated only a few things because with an inflamed rotator cuff he's not totally useless ;) And the gif really has nothing to do with the story. It’s just cute.

Jeff X Reader

"So it's just an inflamed rotator cuff? Nothing too serious."

"Yep." Jeff grimaces as he unbuttons an old button down shirt, trying very cautiously to shrug out of it. "I got some anti-inflammatory meds and I'm on six weeks of rest starting today."

He easily shakes out of one sleeve, but barely doing so must cause him a wave of pain. His sudden sharp intake of breath startles you into motion and you hold your hands out to stop him. "Wait, wait, wait. Let me."

He softly chuckles, but stops moving and lets you do the work for him. You peel the shirt off easily, staring at the black contraption the doctor left him in. It's a quarter sleeve bandage that fits snug on his right shoulder with a strap that runs diagonally across his chest and under his left arm. "He said I should ice it every hour for ten minutes or so and if that doesn't work then I'll need to have it massaged. I basically can't do anything with my arm that involves me lifting it."

"You know what that means then, right?" You grin.

"..what?"

"For all the times you waited on me hand and foot when I was sick, I now get to return the favor."

Jeff looks like he wants to argue, but after staring a tad too long and realizing you're actually excited for this.. he sighs. "Sure. That's fine."

The following morning you show up bright and early at Jeff's house. He answers the door with an amused huff, his right arm in a constrictive sling which keeps his arm close to his body and weight off his shoulder.

"Let's go, slowpoke. I'm driving." You beam at him.

"..what?"

"I'm driving," you state slowly, still smiling. "You're hurt and I'm looking out for you. If you really want to heal up by the time baseball season starts, you need to rest your arm."

"You're too good for me, you know that?"

"I'm really not. Now come on." You see his book bag resting by the inside wall and you bend at the knees to reach in and grab it.

"Jeffrey, mijo, who's at the door?" You hear his mother ask.

"It's just me, Mrs. Atkins," you call out. "I'll be driving Jeff to and from school so he doesn't aggravate his shoulder."

His mother rounds the corner, eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiles at you. "Y/N, sweetie, how are you? Have you had breakfast yet?"

"I'm good, Mrs. Atkins, and yes. I've already eaten, but thanks for asking."

"Good. Well then, you two best be going." She turns to Jeff and kisses his cheek, the tips of his ears burning red in embarrassment. "And drive safely." She then leans out the door, cupping your face in hand and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll see you after school."

And instead of embarrassment, all you can feel is warmth and adoration for Mrs. Atkins and the way she treats you as if you were one of her own. "See you later, Momma Bear." Glancing at Jeff once Mrs. Atkins takes her leave, his eyebrows are raised in amusement at you. "Shut up. She adores me and I adore her. We understand each other."

"If you say so," he chuckles. "So where to, mi lady?"

"Hell," you deadpan. "We're going to Hell."

School turns out to be a rather interesting day. With Jeff hurt and not being able to do much, all his admirers were quick to do things for him. His fellow jocks were good at opening his locker and carrying his books/book bag when you couldn't, and you literally had to glare at the other admiring females when they offered to feed him his lunch.

Jeff and his friends found it amusing, and only let up when you threatened to start keying cars. And since he had taken his medication before leaving for school, the only reason he had to visit the athletic trainer was when he had to ice his shoulder every other class period.

"I'm so ready for a nap," Jeff sighs, sinking into your passenger seat as you drive him back home. "Doing absolutely nothing is tiring."

"Mhm." You hum. "I hope you're a fast healer. I don't know how much more I can take of the Liberty High female population treating you like royalty."

He laughs. "I am royalty, babe."

"Of course you are, my love. But you're my King. Never forget that."

"Yes, ma'am."

You laugh as you continue drive, focusing on the road and getting the both of you to his house in one piece. Mrs. Atkins is still home and she greets the both of you happily, she being really ecstatic when she finds out you're staying over to study with Jeff and have dinner.

But half way through your study session, Jeff complains about stiffness in his shoulder. You tell him to go soak in a bath while you visit with his mother and help her with any dinner prep, and he agrees.

So while you're making small talk and dicing tomato for a salad thirty minutes later, your surprised to receive a text message from Jeff. Cleaning your hands off, you pick up your cell from the table and read what he's sent.

FROM JEFF I'm in need of a nurse's assistance. I can't reach my back.

The picture attached is of Jeff in the tub, pouting as he points over a bruised shoulder.

TO JEFF Are u insane?! Your mother is home. I will not risk her wrath if she catches me in the bathroom w/ her very naked son.

FROM JEFF I'll put on underwear if I have to.

You snort, quickly typing your response.

TO JEFF You're an idiot. Don't you have a loofah on a long stick?

"What's that, honey?"

You startle at Mrs. Atkins voice, guilt seeping in at her friendly smile. "Oh. Um. It's, uh, it's Jeff," you stammer. "He's being silly. Told me to go up and scrub his back."

"Silly boy." She huffs in amusement.

"Right? I told him I was not going to risk your wrath. He must think I'm really stupid to not realize that mothers are very protective of their baby boys. Especially their very naked baby boys," you babble. Mrs. Atkins doesn't utter a word and since you're too nervous to even meet her gaze, it takes you longer than a moment to gather the courage to look at her. And when you do, you realize she has a hand clamped over her mouth and her shoulders are shaking with muffled laughter. "..what? Why are you laughing?"

"Y/N," she grins, lips twitching as she bites back the giggles. "I adore you. You're like the daughter I've always wanted and I couldn't be more happier that you're with my son."

"But?" You gulp. "I feel like there's a but in there somewhere."

"No. No but," she grins. "It's just.. do you really think me that naive to not believe you've already seen my son in his birthday suit?"

You practically choke on your tongue, gasping so suddenly and sending saliva down the wrong pipe. "W-what?" You rasp.

"Mija," she coos. "You're beautiful and kindhearted, and my husband and I raised an equally beautiful and kindhearted son. You two are drawn to one another like no teenagers should be. It would not come as a surprise if we knew for a fact that you and Jeff are-"

"I'm sorry!" You blurt, heart pounding furiously and cheeks heated as you drop your phone into your lap and hide your face in the palms of your hands. "I- we, uh, we're protected," you blurt. "Very protected."

"Good." You jerk when her hand lands on your shoulder, you then very hesitantly glancing up at her. "Now please go help my son before he injures himself further. And tell him no funny business while I'm in the house."

She walks away after patting your shoulder gently, and you gulp once more. "Y-Yes, ma'am."

Once Mrs. Atkins is safely out of eye sight, you breathe a huge sigh of relief. You pick up your phone, quickly skimming through the six text messages Jeff sent you while you had the most awkward and honest conversation with his mother. He's begging you now to come up, even humorously teasing you with pics and soapy water that doesn't really hide anything from view.

But since you have his mother's blessing, you told him to hold on before making your way upstairs. You leave your phone on his dresser and make your way to his private bathroom, knocking twice on the door before entering and closing the door behind you.

Jeff beams at you, a soapy beard sliding off the end of his chin. "You risked my mother's wrath."

"No," you drawl. "Your mother totally knows I'm up here." His smile drops and eyes widen. "And she totally knows we have sex. She told me to tell you no funny business is allowed as long as she's in the house."

"Oh my God."

"Yep. So lean forward so I can get your back and then you can join me downstairs for the most awkward dinner ever." And as Jeff leans forward, numbly handing you a soapy washcloth, you kneel down to reach the parts of his back that he couldn't. Because if you were going down in flaming embarrassment, Jeff was going down with you.

#imagine #jeff atkins #jeff x reader #th1rteen r3asons why #13RW #fanficimagery

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max-sparrow · 7 years

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The Lab Coat Of Silence

Andrew Grey poured the rest of the red wine into his glass as he lit a cigar. “Would you like some more wine?” He asked his guest- a long time friend and co-worker Charles.

“Andrew- come now- what are you thinking?” Charles asked as he shook his head. “I told you back when we were in med school that this lifestyle would lead to misfortune.”

“Shake your head all you want. A man deserves to unwind after a long day of work.” He said mildly and then almost as quickly as the flip of a light-switch he snarled loudly, “For fucks sakes Charles- Do not judge me. You do not know what I have been through. A fucking divorce! A child that has passed away. Don’t fucking shake your head at me- ya Bigot. Ya goddamn Bigot!”

Charles just looked at his friend with sad, soft eyes. The two of them had gone to medical school together, and in fact, they even worked together in the same department at St. Bethany’s hospital. They both worked in Hepatology. Both Andrew and Charles had done ground-breaking research in Liver transplants. Hepatology was a field that was blossoming with new possibilities- and the two of them were the Rolls Royce of the rapid development within this field.

“Ya know- I talked to my son yesterday,” Andrew said as his tone began to drop back into a more worrisome and subdued melody. “Ya know what the little Brat said to me?”

“What is that?” Charles asked as he looked into his troubled friend’s brown eyes that were glazed with desperation.

“He said ‘Isn’t that fitting- my father does liver transplants and yet, he will die from liver failure.’ That is what the little brat said to me…. oh but God do I love him. Yet, he wants nothing to do with me. He won’t come see me. Says his whole life I was desperately involved in my career- And now I expect him to come running. The Brat! I bought him everything he ever wanted!”

Charles frowned as he looked up into the sky at a perfectly round yellow moon. There were no clouds. They were sitting on the deck of Andrew’s penthouse apartment. “Okay,” Charles said at last. “Okay, what?” Andrew asked as he killed the wine and puffed on his cigar. “I’ll do it- get me the liver- don’t tell me how you get it- just get it and I will do the surgery,” Charles said, and he was clearly agitated as his eyes fell from the heavens and back to his drunken friend. “Really- Charles- you will help me?” Andrew asked as he placed his wine glass down as he stood up, but in his desperate frenzy he bumped the table and sent the empty wine bottle shattering to the ground. Yet, Andrew seemed not to care. “Oh, buddy- I will owe you. You do this one thing for me, and I will do anything you want.”

Charles stood up- clearly agitated- and said, “I will see myself out.” He started to say something to Andrew but stopped himself. For a moment he stared down at the broken wine bottle- almost in a trance, and then before turning away to leave he whispered timidly through the empty night, “You will be okay buddy. I really believe that.” And Charles disappeared into the evening.

Andrew sat in his seat as he burned his cigar to ashes and finally placed it in its grave in a glass ashtray. For the first time- he took notice of the night. It was enjoyable cool, and a slight breeze could be felt on his rosy cheeks as he slouched in his chair, and contemplated the means he would have to use to get the liver he desperately needed. He had thought about this for countless hours, but now that his friend had finally agreed to be part of this dynasty of mischief- he had to get the calculations just right. Andrew had spent his late 40’s giving life to other’s and as he sat in his seat contemplating his plan he realized something that did not bother him- he would be taking life from another.

He flipped through patient files as he studied exams and statistics. His white lab coat clearly portrayed his stature and importance at the hospital. His eyes suddenly raised as his name was echoed from a distance, “Dear- Dear Andrew- how are you?” Dr. Clyde Foster asked as he grinned widely. Clyde had one of those smirks that raise one cheek on his face, while the other side was left symmetrical.

“Clyde my dear friend- I thought we were meeting for lunch,” Andrew said looking up as he readjusted his glasses.

“Yes, well- time is valuable- as you must certainly be aware. Let’s talk now,” Clyde said chuckling to himself lightly. Andrew thought Clyde was a snob- in fact- everybody did, but the one thing about Andrew- he got along with everybody- no matter how obnoxious. Even with egotistical twits like Clyde. “Shall we go into my office, Clyde?” Andrew asked with an amused expression on his face. “Yes, that sounds appropriate,” Clyde said with a playful expression detailed across his face.

The two of them walked into Andrew’s office, and the door was shut. It was a rather small room, but Andrew did not care. He spent very little time in it. The office had tacky decoration, and his nurse attempted to make the room warm. There were several candles on his desk- and in the five years he had this particular office- he had not lit them once. A basket of plastic food set in the corner on a table and a leather chair sat behind a rosewood desk.

“Well, you know what I want,” Andrew said with a slight twinkle in his eye. Clyde was the lead Pathologist within the hospital and held the authority of the morgue. “And yes- it can all be handled very quickly… your victim will be placed in the morgue without the slightest hint of suspicion…” Clyde said as he gazed around the room with narrow eyes. “But?” Andrew asked. “But what is in it for me? Do not get me wrong- I would love to see you live- rather than seeing you in my morgue.” “What do you want?” Andrew said as he began to get diplomatic. “Nothing unreasonable- 50,000,” Clyde said as he brushed his finger across Andrew’s desk and brought the finger to his eye. “They really need to clean better in here,” he said softly while Andrew looked at him thoughtfully. “Done,” Andrew said as he held out his hand. The two men shook hands. Clyde was a wispy little man, but his handshake was solid. “Let me know about the time and what arrangements need to be made,” Clyde said and opening the door he left- his white coat fluttering in the air as he sped down the hallway.

Carl Boudreaux parked his car in the hospital parking lot. It was ten till seven p.m., and he was on the phone with his girlfriend, “Babe, I am sure I am perfectly fine. They just like to be extra careful. I got to go now. Ten minutes to my appointment and I would imagine I am the last patient. I must go. Love ya, Babe,” He hung up the phone and released a long sigh.

He placed the earbuds of his phone into his ear and turned on music. As he stepped out of his car, he had no idea that his phone call would be the last one he would ever make. Or that the song he was listening to was the last song he would hear. He entered the hospital and headed towards the elevator. It was empty. He was ridden with anxiety and bit his lip as the elevator came to the ground floor, “3… 2 … 1,” and the doors opened. He was supposed to get his test results in yesterday but the doctor called personally to reschedule at this time, and although, there was probably a logical explanation to all of this, he was nervous. The truth was- there was a very reasonable explanation- his liver was perfect, and Andrew intended on taking it for himself.

As he got off the elevator and walked to the office, he noticed the hospital was a ghost town. He took a seat in an empty waiting room and picked up a magazine. Ten minutes later and his name was being called, “Carl?”

He got up and walked to the doctor- Andrew- who smiled widely and shook his hand. “Follow me,” Andrew said, and Carl walked with him back in the hospital and into an operating room.

“I apologize that it is late. We had several emergencies, but I did not want to have to push you back any further. So- here I am on a Monday night. I got up at 6:00 a.m. and well- you know-. So- what do you do for a living Carl?” Andrew asked as he placed one glove on after the other. “I am a physical education director.” He said. “I apologize that we’re in an operating room- but the office is being cleaned, and I wanted to check something that will only take a few minutes. I need to give you a shot Etomidate Andrew said as he took a nearby needle that was already prepared. Do not worry. Completely harmless- it is a drug we use for advanced testing. This is just a protocol. I want to verify the test results. Do not worry- this is routine.”

Carl should have asked more questions, but people seldom asked questions to those that wield white lab coats. And as Andrew injected the Etomidate, Carl slowly faded away and into a deep sleep. These were the last moments of Carl’s life and everything that he knew- his girlfriend- his family- his life- it would fade away as if it never happened. His name was not on the books in Andrew’s office, and his family would be told he never made it to the hospital. His car would be discovered several months later, but he would vanish like a candle to the wind… No record… gone…

Andrew would get home late that night. He would pour himself a large glass of Pink Moscato. It was a sweet red wine, and he drank it slowly as he lit a cigar. The fact that he just committed murder did not phase him. Perhaps being a doctor- and seeing death often had mauled him from feeling emotions. Or perhaps he was just cold blooded- using every means accessible to him to save his own life. Yet, something seemingly fitting would happen to Andrew. As he sat drinking his wine, and smoking his cigar- feeling superior and gratified- He would begin to have a heart-attack. He writhed in pain as he dropped his glass and fell to the floor.

And they would find Andrew in his apartment on the floor. Dead. Perhaps if he had listened to his good friend Charles and cut out the alcohol and tobacco like he always swore he would- maybe that would have saved his life. Yet, the irony is fitting- a man who searched desperately and went to great lengths to obtain a liver- would actually need a heart.

#short story #dark #sad #twisted ending #scary hospital story #doctors

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toptecharena · 6 years

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The sensation of something pointy scraping its way through your tender urethra is no joke-and there's a solid chance you'll experience one in your life, so listen up.

On the list of bad bathroom surprises, kidney stones rank pretty high. (Although, tbh, are there any good toilet surprises?)

The sensation of something pointy scraping its way through your tender urethra is no joke-and there’s a solid chance you’ll experience one in your life, so listen up.

One in 10 women will get at least one kidney stone in her lifetime, and every year kidney stones send more than half a million people to the ER, according to the National Kidney Foundation (NKF). Men are even less lucky, with one in five getting them.

Even worse: Cases of kidney stones are on the rise with rates more than doubling over the past few decades. Why? One theory is that factors like high blood pressure, diabetes, and obesity have been found to increase your risk, per the NKF.

But before you start freaking out at even the slightest pain, it’s important to know the majority of kidney stones can be prevented or managed by doing some very basic things, says S. Adam Ramin, M.D., a urologist and medical director of Urology Cancer Specialists in Los Angeles.

What exactly are kidney stones, anyway?

A kidney stone is basically exactly what it sounds like: a hard object that forms in your kidney.

It starts out when certain chemicals in your urine start to crystallize. As they form, they attract more elements, growing larger and larger. These stones tend to be sharp and spiky, ranging in size from a grain of sand to a golf ball.

Tiny ones may pass out through your urine without you even noticing but larger ones can get stuck, causing a backup of pee, which in turn causes swelling and pain.

But not all kidney stones are the same, and there are four kinds that women need to be aware of, per the NKF:

Calcium oxalate: These are the most common type, forming when calcium binds to oxalate, a chemical compound, in your urine. There may be a genetic component, especially in people who get them repeatedly, but most of them can be attributed to dehydration or a diet high in foods containing oxalates, like leafy greens and coffee, says Ramin.

Uric acid: The second most common type, these stones happen when your body doesn’t process all the monosodium urate (a chemical commonly found in foods like animal protein and nuts) in your kidneys and it clumps together. These definitely have a genetic component and tend to run in families.

Struvite: These stones are less common and are the result of an upper urinary tract infection, according to the NKF.

Cystine: Caused by a rare genetic disorder called cystinuria, these stones form when a high amounts of the amino acid cystine leaks into your urine.

What are the symptoms of kidney stones?

They’re painful, for one-like, excruciatingly so.

If a stone is just chilling in your kidney, you likely won’t even know it’s there, which is cool since doctors don’t usually treat those anyhow, says Ramin. However, once the stone moves down into your ureter (the little tube that funnels your pee from your kidneys to your bladder) it can block urine from passing, which causes swelling and serious pain, he explains.

“It hurt so bad it made me throw up. I seriously thought my appendix had burst.”

The longer it’s there, the more pain you’ll be in. You’ll likely feel it the most in your lower back, although some people may experience pain in their groin or abdomen as well, he adds.

Other possible symptoms include nausea, vomiting, and fainting; and urine that is bloody, cloudy, or bad smelling. Kidney stones can sometimes occur with an infection which may cause symptoms like a fever, body aches, fatigue, and chills, according to the U.S. National Library of Medicine.

How are kidney stones diagnosed-and treated?

Often it’s pretty apparent by the location and level of pain a person is in that a kidney stone is the issue but your doc may order a CT scan or an x-ray to determine the exact shape, size, and location. You may also receive a urine test to check for signs of infection.

Once your doc is sure you have a kidney stone (or multiple), you have two options: Treat it surgically or let it pass “naturally.”

Stones less than seven millimeters are generally left alone and given a chance to pass-that means you��re left to your own devices with patience and pain killers as you wait for it to flush out of your system. There are some medications your doctor can give you to help relax your ureter, making it easier for the stone to pass, says Ramin.

“[My kidney stone] was so big, I had to have it broken up with a laser.”

Larger stones, however, may be candidates for surgery, like shockwave treatment, for example (when special sound waves are aimed at your body to break up the stone in to smaller, easier to pass pieces).

Another option is endoscopic surgery where the doctor will go into your kidney directly, using a laser to break up the stone into sand-sized particles or to remove the stone whole, with a basket, he says.

But once the stone is out, regardless of how it left your body, hang on to it. First, bragging rights, duh. Second, your doc will want to analyze the stone to figure out what type it is so you can know what may have caused it-and how to prevent another one from forming

Wait, you can prevent kidney stones? How?

First and foremost, drink more water-it’s really that simple. “Staying well hydrated can help prevent kidney stones and keep existing stones from getting bigger,” says Ramin.

“Drinking more water will dilute your urine, making it harder for stones of any type to form.” How much, exactly? He recommends drinking about two liters, or 70 ounces, of water every day.

While you’re keeping track of what you put in your body, monitor your diet, too. If you’ve had a calcium oxalate stone, for example, you’ll likely be counseled to remove foods high in oxalate from your diet, including dark, leafy greens, chocolate, cola, coffee, and black tea, says Ramin

Likewise if your stone was made of uric acid, then you’ll likely be told to ditch high-urate foods like meats, seafood, and nuts, he adds.

Overall, because lifestyles diseases like obesity, diabetes, and high blood pressure increase your risk of kidney stones, anything you can do to reduce those will help with kidney stones as well, says Ramin. That means cutting out processed junk foods and eating more fruits, vegetables, and whole grains (avoiding any specific foods your doctor advises against, per above) along with getting regular exercise and a good night’s sleep.

What women who’ve had kidney stones want you to know:

“I never even thought about kidney stones until one morning I woke up at 5 a.m. in terrible pain. It hurt so bad it made me throw up. I made my boyfriend take me to the hospital because I seriously thought my appendix had burst. At first they thought I was an addict just trying to score some pain pills and tried to tell me to leave! But I insisted and after a CT scan, the doctors found a six millimeter (mm) stone lodged up there. They said it would pass on its own and sent me home with a prescription for morphine and some disposable strainers to pee in to catch the stone when it passed. It finally did two days later. They were the worst two days of my life. Ironically, when the stone actually came out, it barely hurt at all.” -Jennifer M.

“A year ago, I saw the doctor about a UTI and he ordered a scan. They didn’t find a stone causing the infection but they did find a small 2 mm stone in my left kidney. I got antibiotics for the UTI and they just told me to drink more water to get the stone to move. Two weeks ago I suddenly started experiencing random bursts of intense pain on my left side. Apparently the stone has grown bigger, to over 5 mm, and gotten lodged at the top of my ureter. They gave me a prescription for Percocet but I’ve almost run out and it still hasn’t come out. I’m just trying to tough it out to avoid asking for more meds, but my God, this is the worst.” -Laura P.

“I’m the kind of girl who normally never takes any medicine stronger than an Advil, so when I went to the ER begging for pain meds I knew something was seriously wrong with me. They asked me to rate my pain on a scale of one to 10 and all I remember is screaming ’10.’ When the nurse gave me a funny look, I yelled, ‘I’m not exaggerating! Have you ever had this kind of pain before?!’ and she looked me and just said ‘kidney stone.’ She was so right. Because mine was so big, I had to have it broken up with a laser. That was when I was 24. It’s been five years since then and I’ve passed four more stones. Apparently this is just how my body works.” -Angelina A.

Go to Source Author: Women’s Health Girl Smarts: What are kidney stones, exactly? The sensation of something pointy scraping its way through your tender urethra is no joke-and there's a solid chance you'll experience one in your life, so listen up.

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kawaiifunhologram-blog · 6 years

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Which is the best insurance for pregnancy ?

"Which is the best insurance for pregnancy ?

We are planning a kid in the near future. What insurance policy should I get so that out-of-pocket expenses are minimal ...... HMO, PPO ? Which is the best ? Please advice.

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://freeautoinsurance.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr