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#cw: car accidents
jade-island-lives · 1 year
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Take Stress Seriously, Or Else
So, I have been keeping you updated on things these past two weeks. That being said, I really wanna talk about what has happened to me in depth. Maybe because I want to process this, or because some of it might be funny, I don’t know. 
So, I don’t handle stress well. I’m like a fish in a fish tank, any amount of stress is going to affect my health negatively. But I also have this problem of powering through it, ignoring the signs of stress and wear. 
Ever since we moved, stress was building. I’m still in college, dealing with mental health problems, and trying to adapt to a new home. Yeah, I was gonna be stressed. 
But I think everything came to a head a few weeks ago. It started with car trouble. 
A couple family members ended up getting in car accidents, they were okay, but the cars had to be repaired.
Baily had to go in for spay surgery, and she is my baby, so of course I was worried. 
My purse, which had my wallet and all of my cards were lost and all had to be replaced. Which, was not a simple thing to do apparently as it took a full month or so to get everything back. 
Then one of my family members fell down the stairs, broke their sternum bone, and we had to go to the ER. We had gotten there at 9 PM; I managed to get home at 4 AM, and the family member had to stay overnight.
Did I mention I still had classes to attend and assignments to finish? Even with extensions, that stuff still had to be done.
Not long after that, I woke up to a fever, sore throat, cough, aches, chills, and congestion. A viral infection, probably the flu. I didn’t think much of it. I rested and took meds; I did remedies, all sorts of things. Thinking it would go away eventually. 
2 weeks later, the right side of my tonsils were still inflamed. It was so painful to swallow, I couldn’t even swallow water without pain. And my nose was still really congested, and my right ear began to hurt like hell.
And me being the idiot I was, I refused to go to a doctor, thinking of the money we’ve spent with the cars and the ER was too much already. 
Eventually the pain in my throat got so bad, I began to fear eating or drinking. So, I got a virtual visit with a doctor, who then proceeded to tell me to go to urgent care ASAP.
So, I did. I went to three urgent cares. The first one didn’t take my insurance, the next one was appointment only, and the final one took me. After a few hours of waiting and examinations, I was diagnosed with severe Sinitus and tonsillitis. 
Apparently, the infection had been brewing in my body for months now. And I think stress was the thing that set it all off, I don’t know. 
So, I’m on antibiotics now and feeling better. 
Guys, seriously, if you take anything from this story, it’s this. Don’t do what I did. Don’t wait, if your symptoms last over a week, go to the doctor. And please, take stress seriously. 
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apollo41writes · 2 years
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Goodnight prompt 58/∞
Fandom: Star Wars Prequels Ship: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker AUs/Tropes: Modern AU, Hitchhiking Prompt: Obi-Wan isn't usually the kind of person to pick up hitchhikers. But he feels kind of bad for the young man that seems to be about 10 minutes away from a heatstroke on the side of the road.
Extra details: Welp, while this might be a pretty basica idea, I kind of had a twist to it. And not, this time it's not one of them being a creep or whatever.
Doesn't make this idea less angsty. Basically I was thinking that Obi-Wan is actually travelling for work. He was supposed to go by plane, but it's not that far and he hates plane. So he just drives to whatever he needs to be.
He finds Anakin maybe at a gas station and Anakin kind of seems picky about who he's gonna hitchhike with, like he maybe does this a lot and knows how to avoid creeps and stuff.
Which just makes Obi-Wan even more sympathetic, so he stops and offers Anakin to travel with him at least for a little while.
And it's all fine and peaceful. They have a very lovely conversation, Obi-Wan even offers Anakin lunch at a certain point. And right when Anakin thinks Obi-Wan is just gonna leave him at this second gas station, Obi-Wan looks offended and says that if Anakin still need to go in the same direction there is no reason for them to split up.
So they keep going together. And, like, not more than a couple of hours later they get in some kind of car accident and while Anakin is just a little banged up, Obi-Wan isn't as lucky and he need to stay in the hospital for a while.
Anakin of course makes sure the hospital contacts whatever family Obi-Wan has. But he also absolutely refuses to leave Obi-Wan's side until whoever they called arrives to take care of Obi-Wan themselves.
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ghoulishautism · 2 months
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[cw for car/vehicle-based traffic accidents and blood.] Usually I post these on my ko-fi and wait until at least a week to post them here but, to tell you the truth this took me way too long to finish.
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u3pxx · 1 year
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had the stray urge to design the gavin parents. what if kristoph was their favorite what then ...
cw: car crash mention below
thinking abt the "all gavins are terribly nearsighted" headcanon of mine. in my mind, the gavins have no concrete backstory bc i ain't got brain space for that pftt
but. i think they're similar to the skyes in which they lost their parents when they were still young. in a car accident where kristoph and klavier were the only ones who survived.
with klavier fast asleep.
kristoph was 17 and klavier was 9.
i am a "kristoph raised klavier by himself" truther bc of the [waves hands] implications of all that like wow!
(having to become a parent for your little brother the growing resentment of having to be the parent of your little brother but he's your little brother. you must remember that he's your little br
ANYWAYS , what if kristoph was their parent's favorite. like klavier was the happy precocious kid during family reunions yes, but what if bright, brilliant, and promising kristoph was their favorite. have you ever thought about th
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mallowmaenad · 6 months
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6'3" Underweight Trans Girl With Eyebags whose wearing an Oversized Black Sweater: I recently remembered all of my past lives. Most of it was spent as various plant life and fungi in the same twenty foot radius in a forest by a rural interstate route until a robin ate the seed containing my soul and flew to another forest where I reincarnated as her child. I would then die a tragic death at a young age to a local fox where I'd live a long life as her kit and eventually die of old age, I then spent several generations as various plant life and fungi in that forest which was eventually destroyed by industry.
I was a tree during that time and my plant fibers were processed to manufacture paper used to make a sticker placed on an orange whose peel was placed in a compost bin, eventually leading me to the dark yet decadent life of a worm until I then eventually expired and awoke as a tomato plant in the care of a kindly older woman, it is that life whose memories I treasure the most.
She was a very skilled and warm woman, and many of my cycles afterwards were spent as my own kin in generations of tomato plants in a blink of an eye. One day she took me into her car in a pot, I remember how she spoke to me. At the time she had named me Reynolds, she had set into a trend of naming me after Hollywood actors she found attractive. It was the day before her daughter's birthday and I was to be her gift, I could not feel bittersweet about this a the time, because I was a tomato plant.
She buckled me into the back seat of a car as if I was a child of her own and drove down a rural interstate route, illuminating the black sea of the night sky with her headlights as the shadows seemed to drown out anything but us. A deer with bone wasting disease stood in the road like a grim reaper, white eyes shining as her aching foot tried to react in time on the break peddle.
The two embraced in a bloody collision, I remember the deer in its last moments weakly nibbling at her flesh as they both bled out in an agony they were ignorant to, I wilted and died in that car along with her and that deer, I do not know what the journey of my soul was like, but my next life was as a patch of semi-feral grass on the side of a similar road caught in the mouth of a possum eating a partially full discarded box of Wendy's fries who was then promptly turned into road kill, when the day was new a burly Appalachian man whose stern demeanor hid a soft heart would legally and cleanly collect the cadaver and break it down, using the remains for a meal some yuppies would find ghastly. This man was my father- or rather my father in this cycle of life.
I know in my heart of hearts that you were that old woman who nurtured me so many times as her beloved tomato plants, you had the rare privilege to live your life as an incinerator at a crematorium, but the march of technology and nut after bolt you grew broken, a death by a thousand cuts, a death by a thousand bodies. Your massive metal cadaver was melted down over time, the raw materials eventually finding itself to a factory that manufactured bullets, a life of darkness in a cardboard prison only to be shunted into a pistol's magazine... your entire existence is interesting, stretching the meaning of what it means to be eaten and to live. The meek 24 year old boy thought nobody would mourn him when he was gone, you lived as an amorphous patch of greenery ahead of his grave stone.
A curious thing would happen during a visit to this boy's grave, his childhood dog either in embarrassing coincidence or a moment of sentience began to dig at where the body was, being wrenched back as it began to desperately sink his teeth into the soil, ripping you asunder. Almost as divine penance, you lived your next life as a member of this dog's litter, you'd be named after the boy, despite being a girl. Maybe the dog was given some precognition and wanted to eat the boy and take his soul into its mouth to get her the life she always wanted. You were unfortunately born with a chronic condition that led you to a young death, the girl's mother crying just as hard after the vet put you down. You were buried lovingly in her back yard where you became a tomato plant, your same mother not being as much of a green thumb as mine but she devoured your fruits all the same, eventually giving birth to another meek boy after growing pregnant during the time when your last tomato was picked off your wilted stem. I have pursued you since that day with my whole body and spirit, one part unintentional one part in this moment of enlightenment. I love you, and I will love you for the rest of forever.
Trans girl who dropped out of high school to make Hello Kitty breakcore who has her girlfriend's dick in her mouth and is high as fuck right now: Waash dat?
Their shared girlfriend sitting across from them playing Wario Land Shake It on her modded Wii U: Was I the deer with bone wasting disease?
6'3" Underweight Trans Girl: ... Yeah...
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titkoks · 1 year
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kritzelhalde · 2 years
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cars, time-travel, the jokes write themselves here
(ID in secon image alt)
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grendel-menz · 9 months
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The way bruises progress is so cool
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memesomething · 1 year
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more casual memes.
"Make sure to lock up."
"What does black tie event even mean?"
"Coffee?"
"Hey. Thank you for being here."
"The cat's back again."
"Where did you even come from?"
"You'd be surprised how often this sort of thing happens."
"How many have there been?"
"I didn't hear you come in."
"Are you asleep?"
"You left the light on for me."
"This is my safe space."
"You and me. Yeah?"
"That's the last of them."
"You don't need to knock."
"I wanted to give you a key."
"You're welcome here. It's a standing invitation."
"You should know this already."
"You know that's not what I meant."
[SPACE] -> for a scenario where our muses are particularly good at sharing space around each other, e.g. ducking around each other in a crammed kitchenette, etc.
[GROCERIES] -> our muses are shopping for groceries together.
[TRINKET] -> one muse asks the other about a trinket or sentimental item they have/are wearing/etc (you may need to specify some trinkets)
[COFFEE BEANS] -> one muse notices the other is low on some everyday supply and replaces it without being asked.
[SPLASH] -> one muse is splashed by the other (by a puddle, in a pool, spilling tea, etc; some form of liquid landing!)
[RESCUE] -> one muse 'saves' the other from a conversation they are not enjoying (or prevents them from having to start the conversation, in the first place)
[INTERVENE] -> one muse is being hit on aggressively in public, and is clearly not into it. the other muse steps in to intervene.
[ELEVATOR] -> our muses happen to be in the same elevator when it jams.
[FENDER BENDER] -> our muses are in a nobody-gets-hurt car accident.
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artsyunderstudy · 28 days
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bad news gang im hella cursed
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liquidlycan · 2 months
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can u make a ryker stimboard with cars moving at the camera and pliers
sigh.
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RYKER DUBLIN - 8:11 EVIL STIMBOARD
with themes of car crashes and pilers...
cw car crashes
requested by @beastguts
x | x | x x | x | x x | x | x
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selfshippingquotes · 6 months
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F/O: S/I, calm down, I'm completely fine.
S/I: No you're not, F/O, we gotta get you to a hospital!
F/O: No, no, not the hospital! Injections are scary and painful!
S/I: And getting run over wasn't?!
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t1oui · 1 month
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@jegulus-microfic | april 25th | headlights | 1,222 words | cw: mentions of a car accident, hospitals, mentions of smoking (nothing graphic)
Regulus tries so hard to think that Sirius is an idiot. That bloody thing'll kill you, he remembers saying. Sirius had only laughed. No one's laughing now.
It was just a Friday night. Regulus got home from work late and was looking forward to doing nothing until Monday morning. Was looking forward to being alone, sitting around with popcorn and staring at the telly until he fell asleep. Now, the idea of a simple night in feels light years away.
He never gets what he wants.
Sitting on a stiff white chair outside Sirius's room at St. Mungo's, Regulus's leg bounces up and down at a frantic pace, mind racing. Didn't he see the headlights? Didn't he try and stop? It wasn't his fault, they said. Regulus's older brother is in a hospital bed and he wants to strangle the idiot who put him there.
Remus is sitting across from him, eyes red-rimmed and body curled in around himself. He arrived before Regulus. Pettigrew was pacing until Remus yelled at him and he mumbled something about getting a coffee.
It feels like hours before Potter arrives. Regulus and Remus are only taking up two of maybe eight seats crowded into the hallway, but James sits right next to him. He's crying, too busy looking at his phone to pay Regulus any mind beside him.
"Why are you here?" Regulus grumbles. He sounds like shit. The corridor is far too bright for someone who wants to crawl into a hole and never come out. James glances up at him, looking confused and distressed and tired. God, Regulus is so fucking tired.
"My best friend is... he's...." James gestures helplessly to the room behind them. They're not whispering, but their voices are hoarse. Remus isn't paying attention anyway - he's been staring into space for hours now. "He's in there."
"No," Regulus says, shaking his head in frustration. He hates when people don't understand him. "Why are you... here. There's so many seats."
James stares at him for a moment. He still holds his phone in his lap - if Regulus looks closely, he can see the name Lily written across the top of the screen with a pink flower beside it. James opens his mouth to speak, but Regulus interrupts him, pointing to the phone.
"That's a hibiscus flower, you know."
"What?" James doesn't sound like he's actually processing anything Regulus is saying. Regulus presses his finger next to Lily's contact name. He remembers her from school. He never liked her much.
"The flower here," he says. "It's not a lily. It's a hibiscus."
James sniffles, shrugging helplessly. "There's no lily emoji," he says. "This one's good enough."
Regulus doesn't say that he thinks that's sort of stupid. He's too tired to, and he knows James doesn't really care. Who does?
"I don't want to be lonely," James tells him. Regulus stares at his ear.
"What?"
"You asked," James says, shrugging again. He shrugs a lot. "Why I sat next to you."
Regulus looks up, glances over to Remus. He's managed to gather all of his limbs up onto the small hospital chair and is staring into space, eyes glazed over, arms wrapped around his knees. "Why didn't you sit next to him?"
James's answer comes so quiet that he has to lean closer to hear. "I'd still be alone."
Regulus stares at him. "Oh." He wonders where Pettigrew's gotten off to. Wonders if Lily will come to take James home, will gather Remus into the car too. Wonders who will take him home now that the motorcycle he hates so much is nothing more than a pile of scraps, its owner not much more.
"D'you wanna see a picture of my cat?" James asks. Regulus looks back at him. James is tilting his phone towards Regulus, even though he never answered, and Regulus finds himself leaning closer again to look. His cheek brushes James's shoulder, and he expects James to tense up - they barely know each other. James is probably humoring him, but his best friend's weird little brother leaning his head on his shoulder is probably the last straw. James is just being nice because he's sad. Last Regulus heard, he has a pretty girl and a son waiting for him at home.
But James leans into the touch. Regulus is too tired to pull away. (Part of him doesn't want to pull away. He tells this part to be quiet.)
"Her name's Leo," James says, holding up his phone to reveal a small gray tabby. The smile is evident in his voice, which is soft and close to Regulus's ear. It sounds like a lullaby. "Harry named her."
"Leo," Regulus says softly. James's curls are tickling his cheek. It's not an unpleasant feeling - it reminds him of walking barefoot over grass on a sunny day.
"Like the constellation," James explains. "It's Haz's favorite. 'Course, he is a Leo, so he's a bit biased there...."
Regulus glances down and notices his fingers loosely intertwined with James's. He doesn't remember doing that.
"Leo's the constellation -" he begins.
"Your star," James replies. He sighs softly, content but a little shaky. "Yeah."
They're both silent for a while. It's weirdly comfortable, even in the buzzing hospital, even with Remus sitting numb across from them and Sirius laying unconscious behind them and Peter knocking around, probably smoking the pack of cigarettes Regulus saw him slip out of Remus's pocket before he disappeared.
"Is Lily going to pick you up?" Regulus asks.
"She has Harry tonight," James says instead of answering. It only leaves Regulus with more questions.
"I thought..." Regulus begins, but he doesn't know what he thinks, not really. James seems to, though.
"We broke up," he says simply. He shrugs a little, only one shoulder, trying not to jostle Regulus's head. "Few years ago."
Regulus is quiet for a while. He remembers school, seeing James's golden-brown arm wrapped around Lily's pale shoulders. He remembers a pang of pain at the sight, feels it now, a dull ache located deep within his chest. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says, but he doesn't sound sincere.
"Don't be," James says. He's turned his head, and his lips brush just barely against Regulus's forehead. He should pull away, but instead, he just closes his eyes. "She's my best friend."
Regulus squeezes James's hand. "I'm glad you're here," he whispers.
James squeezes back. "I'm glad you're here, too," he replies.
He sets his phone down on his lap, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a jumbled ball of headphones. He tries for a minute or so to untangle them one-handed before finally sighing and pulling his fingers out from between Regulus's, pulling the earbuds into his phone. He hands one to Regulus.
"Put it in," he says, watching Regulus do nothing.
"Why?" Regulus asks.
"It's too... something in here."
Regulus gives him a small smile as he puts the earbud in. It fits weird, but not uncomfortable weird like he remembers. Just different. As he settles his head back onto James's shoulder, a soft melody begins to play into his ear. James sets the phone down on his knee before taking Regulus's hand again, resting his head against Regulus's curls. Regulus takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.
Maybe this night won't be as long as he thought.
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slowandsteddie · 2 months
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Lazy Petals
AO3
Okay. This work is NOT completed. I cannot guarantee an update schedule because only the first chapter is completed. However, I DO have everything plotted out (assuming it doesn’t get a mind of its own) and the goal is to be 50k+ words.
This story is very personal to me. I’ve taken my grandparents love/live story and made it Steddie. The characters are going to be OOC. Just letting you know right off the bat in case that is something you aren’t interested in. Also, this is a No Upsidedown AU.
My grandparents were immediately obsessed with each other, but didn’t date until after they had graduated high school. Which means that while this isn’t a slow burn, it is going to be slower than the stuff I usually write.
I don’t want to give too, too much stuff away. There there is a post where I described the main highlights and asked your opinion on reading it. There is also a poll where I asked if I should start posting before it was finished, and I got a pretty definite yes.
I saved the divider that I plan on using for this series back when I first started talking about it. I have since lost my note that told me whom to give credit to. If you know who made it (or know how to find that information on mobile!!) please let me know.
I think that’s enough of a preamble. Without further ado, here be the CW’s and the first 3,489 words.
Content Warnings: Steve was hit by a car and in a full body cast for over a year - he makes a bowling joke about it, his parents are very distant, his grandparents got very distant after his injury and he doesn’t understand why, Wayne is very careful while babysitting to make sure that no one can accuse him of being inappropriate, mentions of his mom overmedicating him so he’s easier to deal with, mentions of how weak he got from being in the cast. And as always, let me know if I missed anything.
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Steve didn’t remember much about that night.
His mother said that it was a blessing and refused to fill in any blanks for him under any circumstances.
His father, however, if he had drunk enough whiskey, would look at the six year old Steve as though he were a much older man and sigh before telling him anything he wanted to know.
Which meant that Steve knew that the car that hit him swerved in order to do so. (He didn’t know if the lady in the little blue car did it on purpose, or if she was a distracted driver. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know that.) He knew that she had to have been going over forty miles per hour because the impact sent him flying at least a dozen feet before he slammed into that bus stop. He knew that the driver kept going and that at least half a dozen people ran to his aid and that one of the women had screamed because he was unconscious and she was so certain that he was dead. His little body was so broken and bloody and they couldn’t see him breathe.
He also knew that his father got to his hospital room before his mother, sweat pouring down the older male’s body as though he had showered in his clothes because he had run there from work. His mother showed up over twenty minutes later, all put together like she had taken the time to clean herself up before appearing. Something his father wasn’t sure if he could forgive her for. (This was one of the few times that his father would express just how much that he loved Steve, and he would carry that warmth with him forever.)
He knew that they had to revive him four times, that they had done twelve surgeries, that they had put him in a full body cast because nearly every bone in his body had been broken, including parts of his spine. He knew that his parents had been told that he would likely never walk again. He knew that a specialist had pulled his father aside to inform him that his brain wouldn’t develop normally after all of the trauma that it had been through after being smacked around in his skull. They’d have to be careful, and that they’d have to understand if he never progressed much past the age that he was now. That he could be in his fifties and still acting five and that there was nothing that could be done beyond what they had already done – remove a small part of bone behind his ear to help relieve the pressure and pray for the best while preparing for the worst.
And, while he couldn’t remember the absolute agony that he must have been in. He did have the descriptions that he used to tell his father. That there was lava in his veins and his bones were shards of ice cold glass threatening to tear him apart completely. His father had only told him that part once, with tears in his eyes. “There wasn’t anything I could do to help you, boy. I couldn’t take the pain away. I would have died to save you even a fraction of that.”
That was one of the few times that he could remember his dad hugging him. He had been so careful and gentle while pressing his face into his hair. He inhaled deeply and he cried. And Steve had done his best to hug him back despite the plaster that made it near-impossible to move his arms at all.
At first, Steve had thought that it was really cool to be stuck in bed all the time. He didn’t have to do anything. That got boring within a week and he still had at least a year ahead of him where he was meant to stay in bed unless he was in the bathroom or at a doctor’s appointment.
Even eating in bed, something that had once been unacceptable and even punishable before, lost its novelty pretty quickly.
He liked having his mom read him notes from the teacher and his classmates. He liked her reading him his homework assignments and writing down his answers for him so that he would still be on track. It made him feel like an important man, like his dad was going to be, with a secretary.
The thing is, though, that he really missed going outside. He missed playing in the woods outside of the trailer park where he lived. He missed going to his grandparents house with the pool and the stairs that he’d probably never be able to walk again. He could climb them, though, after the cast was removed. He was pretty sure. He might not have a lot of muscle left at that point, but that would just mean that he was lighter and had less to have to move anyway.
When Steve brought that up to his mother, her lips would turn into a very tight, thin line and something he couldn’t name would flash in her eyes. “You are not going to go to that house any time soon, young man. It’s best to let those ideas go.”
“But I miss Grandma Marty and Grandpa Pete, and they won’t come here,” he whined.
“The Harrington’s won’t come to the trailer park and you know that.”
“We’re Harrington’s too,” he’d say defiantly.
She’d leave the room at that. Effectively ending an argument that they had had multiple times before. But what else did Steve have to talk about? He didn’t really have anyone else to talk to either, other than their neighbor that he had taken to calling Mister Wayne.
Wayne was probably a few years older than his dad and lived alone in a trailer that had always seemed so lively despite the quiet man who lived in it. He always had the tv or the radio on when he was home and Steve lived for that. Because his window was always cracked open for the breeze, which meant the sound could drift to him as well.
It was better than the quiet of his house that only seemed to get broken up with arguments and slamming doors. He was so used to it, but he still flinched every time and did his best to pull the blanket over his head as though that would muffle the sounds.
Sometimes, Wayne would come to his window and read him a book that his own nephew liked. The Hobbit. Steve fell in love with the adventure of it, and Wayne never seemed to mind reading him the same book over and over, a few pages at a time while he smoked.
More often than not, Wayne was the one who came over to babysit once he noticed that Steve had been left alone. He never once complained about it, never once gave someone else the chance despite all the ladies who would come over with food. And wine for his mom, when they could spare it.
Sometimes, Wayne would talk about his nephew. He was a scrawny kid, a few years older than Steve, named Eddie. Had a dark mop of long curly hair, and eyes that always seemed to have mischief in them. They’d like each other, Wayne was pretty sure, and he’d introduce them the next time that Eddie came to visit.
Steve would want to ask when that would be, but he never did. He had Mister Wayne and that was more than enough for him. His dad was staying later at the office, trying to prove that he deserved that promotion that would get them the hell out of the trailer park, without his parents' money. His mother was getting into yoga and book clubs, and Steve was being left alone a lot. Because, what kind of trouble could he get into when he was stuck in bed? Besides, the neighbors could hear if he shouted for anything and Wayne seemed very invested in making sure that he was okay.
Steve never knew why the older man made sure that his curtains were always wide open and that his light was on so that others could see that he was reading to him, or talking with him, from a chair that was always at least three feet away. Maybe it was so they would know he wasn’t alone? He wasn’t going to ask about it, not wanting to chance scaring away the one adult who never raised his voice at him, who never abandoned him when things got hard like his grandparents seemed to.
Months went by like this. His parents not being home, his grandparents not even calling about him, and Wayne doing his best to fill in the difference despite his own job. The other neighbors would come on occasion, but Steve was very sullen with them where he would laugh with Wayne. That didn’t deter them from coming over as he would have liked, and begrudgingly he found himself becoming friendly with a few of them.
It was the beginning of summer when Steve was finally able to get the casts removed. His father took him to the appointment, and he tried to not be disappointed that his mother wasn’t there at first. By the time he was wheeled out to the front of the office, though, his mother was sitting where his father had been.
He did his best to not look at himself. He was pale and scrawny and kind of stinky from not being able to wash himself properly because of all the plaster that had basically covered him for over a year. Most of his bones had healed great, according to the doctor. He wouldn’t know because he still hadn’t looked.
His father came back from wherever he had been, paid the bill with tight lips, and then took Steve out to the car. His mother helped him into the seat before covering him with a blanket that he was grateful for. It wasn’t that he was cold, he just didn’t want the chance to look at himself yet. He wanted to do that when he was home, where if he broke down and cried, no one else would know. Or, he wouldn’t have to see them knowing in any case. And that was enough for him.
They stopped for ice cream on the way and Steve asked for a small strawberry cone. Strawberry wasn’t his favorite, but it was what Grandma Marty had all the time, and he missed her even though she didn’t acknowledge him anymore. Wouldn’t answer his calls, wouldn’t call him back. He didn’t even know if she got the letters that Wayne had helped him write.
When they got home, Wayne wasn’t home. Not for the first time, Steve found himself deeply upset by that. He’d never voice it. Adults had responsibilities outside of him. And he knew that he only got about an hour with Wayne a day, maybe two if he was incredibly lucky.
His father came to help him out of the car, because he had more muscle if Steve should happen to fall. He clung to his father’s arm with all the strength that could muster as he walked like a baby giraffe toward their trailer. Well, he called it walking. It was more like wiggling his lower spine and hips while throwing his legs forward. After maybe five steps like that, he found himself being lifted into his father’s impatient arms as he was carried the rest of the way in and sat on the couch.
“Thank you,” Steve said instead of complaining about not being able to use his legs. He had wanted to walk, to prove that he could.
His father simply grunted in response before going to the kitchen to grab a drink. The same way he always did when he was home for the night.
His mother was inside a few minutes behind them, having stopped to talk to a neighbor briefly. She looked at Steve on the couch and tilted her head at him with a calculating look in her eyes.
“Would you like a bath?”
“Yes, please.”
This time, Steve did get to walk on his own two feet to the destination. He was leaning heavily on the wall, almost gripping on to it with one hand as he practically threw himself forward. He was breathless by the time that he got to the bathroom and pain seemed to radiate out through his entire body, starting at his tail bone.
“You can have some meds after your bath,” his mother said gently. “And I’ll get you your refill before dinner, okay? So you don’t have to worry about running out.”
Steve didn’t think it was time to refill his medicine yet, but he didn’t question it. His mom was on top of it. He was a kid who lost track of time a lot.
He sat on the toilet and he watched his mom prepare the bath for him, knowing that she would only let him have the water a little above room temperature. His skin was sensitive and the steam wouldn’t be good for him with the medicine that he was taking. He couldn’t even have hot food without the steam making him nauseous.
Carefully, he was pulled back to his feet and stripped of his clothes before he was helped into the tub that seemed to be more bubble than water. He sat down carefully, wincing a bit as he did so, before letting himself lean back in the water that felt warmer than it probably was because of his weakened, cool skin.
He sighed in contentment as his mother washed his body for the first time in what seemed like years. He was nearing seven years old and thinking about years in the past, it would make his dad laugh if he shared that thought with him, an idea that made him smile.
His mom washed his hair, tilting his head back and using a hand to make sure that no soap got in his eyes that he had squeezed tight. He got to play in the bubbles for a few minutes, his dad standing at the door as his mom got him some comfy clothes and a towel.
It was his dad who dried him off and helped him get into his clothes.
“Thank you, Daddy,” he said softly. He knew he was expected to thank his dad for everything he did that was above and beyond, which meant he ended up thanking him for everything.
Steve was carried back to his bed, something that he would have whined about if he wasn’t so tired and in so much pain. He was tucked in and his mom came to give him some toast and juice to take his pills with. He knew he was only meant to have one, but he took both that his mother gave him anyway. He washed it away with grape juice and half of the slice of toast she had brought him.
“Thank you, Mommy,” he murmured.
“Get some rest, love,” she replied while kissing his forehead. “You had a big day today.”
Steve nodded in agreement, wishing that it could be that easy to just let the sleep overtake him. He closed his eyes as his mom left the room.
His father checked on him once a day, his mother gave him two pills instead of one, and made sure he at least had breakfast and dinner. One of the neighbors made sure he had lunch and new puzzles to work on, new toys to play with. Steve would wander around the trailer as best as he was able, and Wayne would read to him before he went to bed.
Days turned to weeks like that.
One day, Wayne wasn’t at work and both of Steve’s parents were gone. He wandered over to his bedroom window and opened it wide.
“Mister Wayne, if I can get to the front door, can you help me out?”
His walking was still unsteady and stairs were very difficult for him.
“Are your parents okay with you being outside?” Wayne asked sympathetically.
“Uh. Dad said I could as long as I either finished my puzzle or put it up first.”
Wayne gave him a knowing look. “Okay, you little hellion. But only because I know you’d hurt yourself trying to do it anyway.”
Steve beamed and closed his window most of the way before making his way to the front door. It was a struggle to unlock the door because of the latch chain, but he managed. Wayne was waiting there for him with an unlit cigarette hanging between his lips.
“Getting outside used to be easier,” he sighed before reaching out.
“Maybe it’s the weight of knowing that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be,” Wayne teased as he picked Steve up and set him back down on the ground.
“No idea what that means, but thank you for helping me pass the stairs.” Steve grinned widely, the dirt and grass squishing slightly beneath his toes. It felt so good.
“You’re welcome, brat.”
Steve giggled before doing his version of walking. He took maybe ten steps, very much aware of how closely he was being watched. His breath came a little harder from the effort, the times between walking so close together. Shakily, he sat down as carefully as he was able. Movement caught his attention and made his head snap up to look toward Wayne’s trailer.
“You gotta ghost!” He exclaimed.
Wayne laughed at that, shaking his head. “That’s the nephew I’ve been telling you about. He’s staying with me for awhile. Treat him like a skittish cat until he’s used to ya, and I’m sure y’all would be good friends.”
“Eddie,” Steve said happily. “Can he come out so I can meet him?”
“I’ll send him out after I smoke my cigarette,” he said as he put more distance between them before lighting up.
“Thank you!”
Steve laid down flat on the grass, spreading his arms and legs out as much as he could without the pain becoming unbearable. It wasn’t very far, but he didn’t care. He got to grip the green strands in his fingers. He got to feel the light and heat of the sun soaking into his skin and settling into his bones. He was beyond convinced that the bright yellow thing in the sky was much more healing than the meds that made him feel tingly from his head to his toes.
He must have fallen asleep like that, because next thing he knew he was being awoken by a toe nudging his shoulder. His eyes flashed open and he was met by the most dark, beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen.
“Uncle Wayne said you just got released from the mummy’s curse.”
“He said that?”
“Well. He said your name was Steve and you just got a full body cast removed a few weeks ago.”
“That sounds more like him.”
“So…What happened?”
“A lady tried to go bowling with me and her car. The only pin she knocked down was me.”
Eddie snorted. “Shoulda planted your feet more firmly, she woulda gotten a strike.”
Steve’s lips tugged into the widest smile that he had ever had on his face. “My parents don’t like it when I joke about it.”
“Parents are stupid.”
“Yeah. How long are you stayin’?”
“As long as I can.”
Steve hummed in thought. “You any good at reading out loud?”
“Depends. What book?”
“The Hobbit.”
Eddie’s entire face lit up, his huge smile showing off the chipped front tooth. “My favorite book in the entire world? Yeah, I’m pretty good at reading it out loud.”
“We should read to each other. I have troubles with some words, but I am trying.”
“I’d like having someone to read and play with.”
“Oh, uh. Playing is hard for me right now. I’m still trying to get my strength back.”
“It’s okay. We read The Hobbit, we gotta have a pretty good imagination. We can pretend to play.”
Steve blushed and looked away. He never had someone his own age willing to work around his limitations before.
“I heard about a game with dice where we can talk out stuff and the dice decide how well it goes,” Steve said suddenly.
“Dungeons and Dragons!” Eddie apparently decided that he was tired of standing because he flopped down next to him at that. He rolled around in the grass before eventually settling on his side, propping his head up on his hand. “I can find a way to make that work with just two people.”
“Oh.”
“Turn that frown upside down, friend. I like a challenge. We’ll make this work because it sounds like fun.”
Steve beamed.
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