#smooth n greasy with bland colors

[leona-florianova]

I need China Miéville to write more Hellblazer stories, because that short one in the christmas special of original Vertigo run (250) wasnt enough .. like..Miéville had John figured out and his way of writing urban fantasy would work perfectly.

Perfect.

(*tho it would be so much better if it wasnt colored by Jamie Grant n Stefano Landini.. why would you do this to lineart like this...its so painful to look at..)

[ohalemalia]

Daily Dose - (Part 2) (S.M Imagine)

Pairing: Scott McCall x Reader

Warnings:  emeto (throwing up), i havent proof read this whoops

A\N: Thanks for being so patient with me. Family things came up but i really wanted to get this out so here we go, part twoooo. Debating on a title change

Word Count: 1974

Summary: What makes Scott McCall so damn interesting? And what’s he got up his sleeve?

Needless to say, against my will and better judgement, thoughts of Scott McCall bounced around my head for the longest time. I came to the realization (all by myself, not because I eavesdropped on his conversation with Nurse Melissa, of course) that Wednesdays he got out of school early and would be by around 1:30pm to drop lunch off for her.

There was absolutely no reason for me to be interested, but when I really thought about it, I think it was because he was the only fresh face in this bland hospital (and the fact that he brought his mom lunch every single week, like come on, it doesn’t get better than that). But for the record, I am not into him because that would be insane considering we’ve had one, well, half of just one conversation. I refuse to be a cliche character who falls in love with the first boy they see no matter how smooth their skin looks or how toss able their hair is that you can just run your fingers throu

NO.

NOPE.

Not even going there.

Besides, realistically speaking the only relationship that I would be in anytime in the foreseeable future is me and this hospital bed. The only action I would get would be

Never mind, I’m not going there either.

Anyway, in case you were wondering it’s 1:23pm on a Wednesday. Not that that has any significant meaning.

P.S. I Still Love You by Jenna Han was currently under my nose and although my eyes were skimming over the page, my brain was elsewhere. My room had a side view of the front desk, so if he was coming, I would know about it.

What was I even going to say? Was I going to say anything? Was he going to even come in here?

This was stupid. I was stupid. I was being stupid.

I tried to focus on Lara Jean, but out the corner of my eye there he was again.

He set a bag of food on the counter and smiled at the front lady at the desk as he spoke to her. She pointed somewhere. He nodded and took a seat in one of the plastic waiting chairs. He looked down at his phone, scrolled for a few moments and laughed at something on his screen. I craned my neck to get a better look at him. He was wearing yet another tight shirt, this time in an olive green color and a denim jacket over it. His motorcycle helmet was sitting on the chair next to him. He leaned back in the chair and spread his legs in that guy sit that guys always do. He scrolled. And he scrolled. And he kept scrolling.

“Oh my god, could you look up from your phone for just one second,” I muttered underneath my breath.

His head snapped up as if someone spoke to him. He looked around the waiting room until his eyes met mine through the glass. I nearly choked. He blinked and then furrows his eyebrows at me. I quickly looked down at my book, hoping that he would just look away. I gave it about thirty seconds before I looked up again, and to my surprise he had disappeared from the chair. My shoulders slumped. Oh well. I guess I’d see him next week.

The doorknob to my room clicked and the door slowly opened. I looked up and my heart damn near stopped right then and there. He was there, in my doorway, smiling that puppy dog smile at me.

“I figured you could use some company,” his eyes widened and his words blurred together as he rambled on, “Unless that’s totally not okay then I can just leave and I’m really sorry and you can totally forget that I was even here.”

“No, it’s, I,” I closed my eyes, trying to reset my brain and get it to form complete sentences, “Yes, you can come in.”

“Cool,” He came in and shut the door behind him. He looked over my room again, his eyes resting on the dead flowers on my side shelf.

“I would water them,” I started to explain, “But I’m just, you know, really busy…”

“Yeah I bet,” He walked over to the shelf and gestured toward the books, “Can I?”

“Um, yeah, go ahead.” I’d never had anyone else touch my books before, so I watched him very carefully.

“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath, “It’s like your own personal library.”

“I wish,” I sat up straighter on my bed, “At least at a library I can get new books, I’ve read all of these.”

His eyes widened again and he held up a book, “All of them?”

“At least three times.”

“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath, “So, what do you read?”

“At this point, anything.”

It was silent as he went through my books. I felt self conscious as I heard the turning of pages of my books ripple through the air. Did he think my book taste sucked? Did he think reading was lame anyway?

My mouth began to salivate but I wasn’t hungry for answers, I wanted food. Real food. Whatever was in the bag that he had set down on my counter.

“That smells really good,” I felt like I was in a trance, a servant to the delicious smells of Fatburger.

Scott looked over his shoulder at the bag, “That?” He set the book down and walked over to the bag. He opened it up and looked inside, “It’s a burger and some fries. I brought it for my mom, but I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t mind if you had a couple fries.”

“Oh, I think she’d mind a lot,” I laughed half heartedly. He looked at me as if he didn’t get the joke. Or as if it wasn’t funny. I think the latter.

“I really shouldn’t,” I made it sound like I was being modest and humble, but my body would probably expel that greasy mess as soon as I put it in.

“No seriously, it’s okay Y/N,” he chuckled, “Really.”

As tempting as it was, I grimaced, “I can’t. Really. But thank you.”

He frowned as he folded the bag up and put it back on the counter, “Can I ask you a kind of personal question?”

“I suppose so,” I tapped my chin, “If you don’t mind that I might get really offended and kick you out.”

“I just,” he pressed his lips together as if he were selecting the right words, “Do you ever get out of here?”

I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

“Ever?” He was incredulous, “Like, what about school?”

“I don’t mind missing that,” I laughed, “Trust me.”

“Well, where do you wanna go?”

I was all too prepared for this. There were countless hours of staring at blank white walls to compile a list of places I’d rather be. I reached toward my books, “Can you pass me The Little Prince? It’s the book with the--”

“‘Got it,” He held the book up and handed it to me. I opened it up to page 42 and slid the sheet of notebook paper out that was scrawled on with glitter gel pen.

Y/N’s List of Places to Be Other Than Here

(No offense Melissa if you see this)

1. A friend’s house

2. A sleepover

3. Disneyland

4. Birch Aquarium

5. Greece

6. Mexico

7. Italy

8. A park

9. Fatburger, or any place that sells real people food

10. In the arms of someone I love

11. Northern Lights in Iceland, Sweden, Canada or Norway

12. Paris

13. On a road trip with friends

14. A Diner

Scott read over my shoulder as I read the items on the list out loud.  I could feel my face burning up as I got to number ten. I had definitely written that in a moment of weakness and vulnerability and it doesn’t reflect who I am as a person, obviously. I am not some cheese ball. “It’s not finished,” I folded it up, “And some of them I obviously can’t actually do, so, it’s just a dumb list.”

“I don’t think it’s a dumb list,” Scott held his hand out, “Can I see it again?”

“I, um, well,” I sighed and placed the paper in his hand. He looked it over again, his brow knitting in concentration. He nodded, “Okay, yeah, no totally not a dumb list.”

“I’m glad it has your seal of approval,” I picked at a loose thread on my sheets, “But I think I’ll just--”

“Uh,” Scott looked at the door as if he heard something coming, “Shoot. I gotta go.”

“Oh? You do?”

“Yeah,” he whirled around the room, packing up his belongings, “I probably shouldn’t be here and I might’ve told the receptionist I was going to the bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah, you probably should...you should go…”

“Before my mom kills me,” He grinned, “But at least I’m in a hopsital, right?”

His face immediately paled, “I mean, well she can’t really, you know--”

“Scott?!”

I could hear Melissa calling Scott’s name from the hallway. By the sounds of it, it sounded like she very well might wrangle Scott’s neck.

“Gotta go,” Scott opened the door and began to slip out.

“Wait, Scott, you still have my--”

The door shut behind him. I sighed.

“...my list.”

---

The next couple of days were a haze for me. I had a pretty bad fever. All I remember is waking up at 4:12am and immediately emptying the contents of my stomach into a bed pan. Nurse Melissa was off that night and instead Nurse Rosa came in and took my temperature while another Nurse, probably an intern since I didn’t recognise him, wrote some stuff down. Nurse Rosa reported me having a fever of 102. I slipped in and out of consciousness after that. I really wish I had a better description for it but it honestly all just was a haze that I was mostly asleep for it. My body felt like huge sandbags strapped into my mattress. My skin was burning. The light was too bright for my eyes. I was miserable.

When I woke up, I would’ve been happy about the fact that I felt better if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Thursday evening. Scott had come and gone by now. I sighed and turned over on my bed to face my books. What I saw there improved my mood easily by fifty points.

There was a stack of new books on top of my book collection, all with yellow BEACON HILLS HS LIBRARY stickers on them. There was my flower vase, but  it had brand new totally not withered flowers in it. There was a note attached to the vase. I pulled it off and unfolded it to see some messy handwriting scrawled inside:

-Y/N

I asked my mom if it was ok to come visit since you dont get a lot of visitors and she said yeah (: I came by but the docs said it wasn’t a good time, i waited around as long as i could, i’ve been coming after school too but it’s still being pretty bad, i hope you feel better soon because i’m bringing you something on wednesday and i don’t want it to go bad before you get to it. check in your drawer all the way in the back on the right. hope you enjoy it (but if it’s going to make you sicker...probably don’t eat it. get better soon,

-Scott M..

I leaned over as far as I comfortably could and opened the drawer on the bedside table. My hand flew to my mouth as I gasped, tears welling up in my eyes.

I had never been happier to see a Fatburger bag in my life.

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