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February Writing Prompts 2023
February is here! The days are getting longer, daylight is coming. We're getting there, folks! But don't break out the beach clothes just yet, there's still plenty of winter fun to be had. And As always--
Disclaimer: I never close old writing prompts from previous months. People can and should be encouraged to post on old month's prompts and I highly encourage players to track these posts to catch stragglers or new people writing on old prompts.
Now. With that out of the way, onto this month's prompts.
1. "You can't scare me off that easily."
2. Waiting to see if it's good news or bad news.
3. "I love you. You know that, right?"
4. Doing the same thing over and over again.
5. The last straw.
Bonus image prompt:
1. "You can't scare me off that easily."
3. "I love you. You know that, right?"
2- waiting to see if it’s good or bad news
“Come on, come on…” he felt for a pulse, and thought he had one, but then it was gone again.
Another couple of minutes passed before he heard voices in the demolished hallway.
“In here!!” Minoru shouted as he came up for air. “Still unresponsive!! But I might have a pulse!”
The paramedics hurried through the door, barking questions as they kicked debris out of the way to make a path for the stretcher. One of them immediately took over for Minoru, intubating the still-unconscious stranger.
“What happened?”
“No idea. My friends asked me to grab some stuff they left at a party. Found the place a dump. Found him unconscious in the tub. Checked his vitals. They were there. Debated moving him. Checked his vitals again. They were gone. Immediately got him out and started CPR.” He replied quickly, and far more calmly than most laypeople would. He added, as an afterthought, “Pretty sure it’s wine, not blood. Didn’t see any open wounds. If there’s a broken rib, that one’s my fault.”
He held up his hands, which were definitely stained with wine. His face had some of the stranger’s lipstick smeared over it.
“No clue what he took, or how much he took. If anything.” He added before the paramedic could ask. And the only thing in the bathroom Minoru could ID was the boot sticking up out of the toilet. The stranger, stripped down to his boxers and not much else, didn’t have a wallet, phone or anything on him. Maybe there was something buried under the trash, but like Joe’s left boot, that could belong to just about anyone. Who knows how many people came and went last night.
The paramedics nodded, thanking him for what he did know - especially CPR.
“You a medic?” One of them asked.
“Hospital orderly. But I’m certified.” Minoru answered, finally letting himself relax a little as they lifted the stranger onto the stretcher. “I’m… uh… just here on vacation.”
“Some vacation. But that kid’s gonna be thanking his lucky stars you were.”
While the stranger wasn’t out of the woods by any means, the tone in the paramedic’s voice suggested he had a good shot at an actual recovery. Minoru knew the statistics. The survival rate for cardiac arrests happening outside of a hospital setting was somewhere around 12%, either because they go unnoticed or CPR is begun far too late. Minoru was literally in the right place at the right time to save someone’s life.
Hopefully, he did.
The paramedics left as quickly as they came, leaving Minoru alone in the trashed hotel suite. It wasn’t until his PINpoint dinged again, that he realized it had been a good fifteen minutes since he last texted Hans. The poor guy was probably on pins and needles waiting to hear if it’s good news or bad news.
“Oh shit…” he cursed to himself as he picked up his PINpoint and started typing.
Paramedics left a little while ago. We got a pulse. Still too soon to tell, but he might actually make it.
Grabbing Joe’s boot. Did Vars find his wallet?
2- waiting to see if it’s good or bad news (Part 2)
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose as the rowdy rockstars began to gather around the large television. The reporter tapped her papers against the desk as they cut to video footage of the aftermath left from the party the night before.
‘It might look like an earthquake struck the Hotel Alexandria last night, but this was no natural disaster. Several suites on the fifth floor were left in shambles after a party by the local punk scene got out of hand.’
Viktor and Vars gave each other a high five, even though the latter was still missing his wallet.
‘The amount of damage to the property is still being investigated, but is estimated at over ten thousand dollars so far. Hotel staff have been cooperating with police to track down the individuals who booked the rooms, and who are therefore responsible for footing the bill, but it appears they did so under false names. Anybody with information pertaining to the incident is asked to contact LAPD at…’
Laughter erupted from the couch, effectively muting the television. No one outright bragged about being the instigators, but it was fairly obvious they were either involved or knew precisely who did. And none of them had any remorse.
As the newscast cut to additional footage, this time of what looked like a local concert scene, Minoru’s eyes widened.
“Hey! Hey, that’s him!” He pointed at the tv. ”The guy in the bathtub!”
“The one you found?” Hans clarified, leaning in to get a closer look. Tall, thin, galavanting across a stage with a microphone with makeup running down his face, it was easy to see how Minoru compared him to Ziggy at first.
“Yeah! Turn it up!”
Tom hit the volume. The reporter continued, ‘…taken from the scene by ambulance this morning after being found by a good samaritan reportedly here on vacation. The lead singer of local up-and-coming rock band, Literally Black, is in stable condition. He is expected to make a full recovery. But hopefully, a little wiser from his brush with death. So far, no other injuries have been reported…’
The newscast cut to a shot of an ambulance, before landing on a pre-recorded interview with one of the emergency room doctors.
‘This time, we got lucky. But the damage caused by excessive drug and alcohol use at these gatherings outweighs the property damage a hundred fold. Binge drinking can cause cardiac rhythm disturbances in otherwise healthy people, some of which can be fatal without prompt medical intervention…’
No one in the room had ever heard of Literally Black. They only vaguely remembered seeing the singer from the b-roll footage at the party (or that the bathtub was filled with wine, for that matter). But many in the industry would say there’s no such thing as bad publicity. Minoru, of course, had other things on his mind.
“Did you guys hear that?” Minoru excitedly hopped up on the back of the couch. “Expected to make a full recovery!”
“You really did save his life.” Hans patted the orderly on the back.
“You got the ambulance there. I couldn’t dial your world’s EMS on my PINpoint.” Minoru insisted.
“But you did CPR until they got there.”
As much as Minoru wanted to humbly shrug it off, and say that anyone in his position would have done the same thing, the truth was far more likely that they wouldn’t have. The people at the party, maybe even his own friends, left him there in that bathtub. The entire floor was deserted by morning. And had someone else been there, there was no guarantee they would have known CPR, been able to do it correctly or even at the right time. The doctor saying ‘we got lucky’ wasn’t wrong.
“Hey! Hey! AND you found my shoe!” Joe shouted, kicking his feet into the air. A couple people leaned out of the way.
“…I really hope you washed that first.” Minoru shook his head. “Trust me, I know where it’s been.”
4 - Doing the Same Thing Over and Over Again
“The downstairs neighbors called this morning. You landed in their tulips again.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Minoru sighed. The flowers weren’t there last week, but this was planting season, after all. Most of the neighbors were updating their gardens, so it was only a matter of time before he leapt before he looked. “I’ll call the garden shop as soon as they open. Maybe they can deliver some replacement bulbs this afternoon. The one downside of working nights…”
“Most establishments are operating during the hours you are asleep, yes.” Isamu finished his brother’s sentence. “Though, I suppose the easiest and least expensive solution to that conundrum would be for you to stop vaulting over the balcony during springtime. Or at all.”
“What fun would that be?” He shrugged in his own defense.
“Every time we took a family vacation after second grade, Mama and Papa had to specifically request a room on the first floor so you would not try to turn the balcony into a diving board for the pool.”
“I remember that summer…” he chuckled. “To be fair, I DID ask if I could go in the pool. AND I even had my arm floaty things on.”
“You were lucky you hit the water.”
“Papa was pissed…“
That was, perhaps, the understatement of the year. But Isamu simply shook his head.
“How many times did they get called from the principal’s office because the custodian had to fetch you off the roof?”
Minoru held the bowl in one hand and started counting on his fingers on the other. “Hold up… Which grade?”
In total, he had no clue, but he did remember all the custodians’ names. Especially the ones at the high school that snuck him secret high fives behind the administrators’ backs. Ross and Ronnie. Those two were the best.
“Or just how many times did they ground you after plucking you off the ceiling?”
“Come on, now that not fair. That’s like asking you to remember how many times they drove you to the library because you ran out of books to read. It happened at least once a week!”
Isamu sighed. Minoru did have a point there.
“Face it, Bro. Some things never change.”
“No. No, they do not.”
Waiting to see if it’s good or bad news (Ziggyverse AU)
Dee did get his first infusion that day. For three hours, Jay sat in that chair with Dee in his lap, holding him, breathing with him, encouraging him, distracting him - whatever it took until the last drop of medication was in his arm. By the time it was all said and done, Dee was so exhausted that he’d actually fallen asleep. Jay couldn’t bear to wake him, so he carried him to the car, and let the nurse push the empty wheelchair behind them.
Jay thanked every deity that ever existed that the side effects were exactly like the doctor had said. Dee woke up with a headache, but it was short-lived. Unfortunately, it was too hard to tell whether he was part of the 10% who got fatigued afterwards or his body was just desperate to sleep after three straight days of nervous insomnia. Either way, Dee spent the rest of the afternoon conked out on the couch. And Jay sat with him, just so Dee would see him there the moment he woke up.
The second treatment session went a little better. Dee was still a bundle of nerves, and he still sat in Jay’s lap the whole time, but he didn’t second-guess his resolve. He just kept reminding himself that last month, he woke up the next day still feeling like himself. And the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that… He complained about a headache on the way home, but was tired enough that he pretty much just slept it off.
By the third session, they started to get a routine together. Dee wasn’t nearly as anxious this time, but Jay still held him in his lap. The nurses didn’t mind, and actually thought it was pretty damn adorable. The headache that followed came as expected, but this time, Dee brought a pair of sunglasses for the ride home so the light wouldn’t be so bright. They cuddled up on the couch together as the fatigue set in, and Dee napped on and off all afternoon.
By the time their followup appointment came around, it was a relief when Dee was nervous for an entirely different reason.
“…Do you think… it’s working?”
Jay nearly started crying right there as he parked the car. It was the kind of question Dee should have been asking all along - one filled with hope that things could get better, that his life could be longer and still be worth living. He immediately pulled his fiancé into a sideways hug.
“I hope so.” He pulled back slowly. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve swallowed an entire flock of butterflies.” He admitted. “…But good. I feel good.”
“I’m glad. Because that’s how I feel too.” Jay brushed Dee’s hair aside and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Butterflies and all.”
It was hard to tell, day to day, whether the treatment was having any effect. He’d only been on it for three months, and the doctors said outward progress would be painfully slow. The important part right now was keeping what muscle tissue he had left from deteriorating any further. If the levels of enzyme markers and proteins in his blood had gone down, they’d know the treatment was at least partially effective. That’s what they were specifically here to discuss.
Nothing, however, could have prepared Dee or Jay for the what the doctor had to say…
“After three months on the infusion, creatine kinase levels are normal. You’re responding exceptionally well to the new medication. Better than we could have hoped. The damage to existing muscle fibers has almost entirely stopped. It is conceivable that with continued therapy, we may eventually be able to reverse some of the damage.”
He wouldn’t get worse. He might even get better.
Dee’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t speak. The earth stood still and time itself ground to a halt. He felt Jay let go of his hand and pull him into a hug so hard that the wheelchair nearly toppled over. But still, he couldn’t muster more than an excited gasp. Jay was kissing him and crying. It took about a minute for Dee to realize he was crying too.
The doctor gave them a moment to compose themselves. Because for as good as that news was, it came with a catch.
“However, the medication can only work for as long as you continue to receive your monthly infusion. This is a treatment, not a cure. If you choose to stop, your muscles will start breaking down again and you will begin to lose any progress that you may have made. Do you understand that?”
Dee nodded through his tears.
“I made you the promise that we could take it month by month from this point. So tell me, honestly, how has the treatment been? What would you like to do?”
Jay clutched Dee’s hand. Dee, with all the courage his voice could muster, exclaimed, “I’d to keep going.”
“For another month?”
“…Forever!” Dee choked on the possibilities. More time to get their demo picked up, tour and see the world. The strength to walk down the aisle into his partner’s waiting arms. Years of beautiful music they had yet to make. “For as long as I can. This… this is okay. I can do this…”
This was tolerable. No, even more than that - this was manageable. He had never been afraid to die, but for the first time, he wasn’t afraid to live either. And that was very, very good news.