i'll do something

|ooc.| So, this is what’s up. I have 832 followers, and on a good day, only two of them seem to have any desire at all to do much of anything with me.  so i’m out. i’m not deleting this account, because i’m a little proud of some of the things that i’ve written. i’m going to start fresh, start over, whatevs.  it’s been real. 

|ooc.| So, this is what’s up. I have 832 followers, and on a good day, only two of them seem to have any desire at all to do much of anything with me.  so i’m out. i’m not deleting this account, because i’m a little proud of some of the things that i’ve written. i’m going to start fresh, start over, whatevs.  it’s been real. 

|ooc.| So, this is what’s up. I have 832 followers, and on a good day, only two of them seem to have any desire at all to do much of anything with me.  so i’m out. i’m not deleting this account, because i’m a little proud of some of the things that i’ve written. i’m going to start fresh, start over, whatevs.  it’s been real. 

|ooc.| So, this is what’s up. I have 832 followers, and on a good day, only two of them seem to have any desire at all to do much of anything with me.  so i’m out. i’m not deleting this account, because i’m a little proud of some of the things that i’ve written. i’m going to start fresh, start over, whatevs.  it’s been real. 

|ooc.| So, this is what’s up. I have 832 followers, and on a good day, only two of them seem to have any desire at all to do much of anything with me.  so i’m out. i’m not deleting this account, because i’m a little proud of some of the things that i’ve written. i’m going to start fresh, start over, whatevs.  it’s been real. 

|ooc.| So, this is what’s up. I have 832 followers, and on a good day, only two of them seem to have any desire at all to do much of anything with me.  so i’m out. i’m not deleting this account, because i’m a little proud of some of the things that i’ve written. i’m going to start fresh, start over, whatevs.  it’s been real. 

|ooc.| So, this is what’s up. I have 832 followers, and on a good day, only two of them seem to have any desire at all to do much of anything with me.  so i’m out. i’m not deleting this account, because i’m a little proud of some of the things that i’ve written. i’m going to start fresh, start over, whatevs.  it’s been real. 

Just Another Victim

There was a sob that tore from Scott's chest when his father reached out to him, when he drew him in to his chest and murmured those quiet words of reassurance. So many times, that tone had been used to soothe after a nightmare, after a cut or scrape or an unkind word from another person, and never before  had Scott felt so unworthy to hear it. He ducked his head against his father, taking just a moment to be so selfish before he pulled away. He couldn't stay in there right now, he needed--. "I gotta... I gotta go clean up," he said, voice hoarse as he pulled away from his dad, turning his back on the three older males in the room, still favoring his hand.  And as he turned to hurry out of the room, Deaton  offered Raleigh a small smile. "I'll go speak with him." 

Just Another Victim

Waking up kind of left Scott feeling like he'd been run over by a very large truck. He was sore all over, hand and wrist throbbing and as he struggled to get off the couch, there was a quiet whimper when he realized that his knuckles were split too. What the hell had happened?  Stumbling out of the living room, there was a gasp that tore from Scott's throat when he took in the wreckage of the hallway, eyes immediately turning up the stairs as he called for his father. "Dad?" There was something panicked in his voice and with his hand held against his chest to keep from jarring it, he took them two at a time, still a little woozy. "Daddy!" "We're in here, Scott," Deaton called gently, sharing a look with the older Monroe as he stepped out into the hallway to greet the teenager, but Scott brushed past him, brown eyes widening at the sight of his father. "--Wha--?" And then, it all came rushing back to him, very nearly dropping him to his knees. "No. No, no, no, I'm sorry, oh God, I'm--." 

Just Another Victim

Deaton followed the two brothers up the stairs, watching as Riley tended to his brother with such care. "We need to clean him up," the vet instructed. "Warm water and the softest cloth you can find. Best we not irritate those wounds any further." "I want to get this blood cleaned off of you, Raleigh. We need to get these gouges to start healing on their own and then we'll tend to that jaw of yours, alright? Until then, try not to speak. It must be incredibly painful." Leaving the eldest Monroe to get the things they needed to clear him up, Deaton headed back downstairs to check on his youngest patient.  Scott was still spread out on the couch, head lolling to the side. The veterinarian gathered what he needed from his bag before returning to inject the boy with the medication that would bring him back into himself.  It wouldn't be long now, and with that thought, he headed back upstairs to see how to the two brothers were faring. 

Just Another Victim

"Move Scott to the couch," Deaton commanded, moving to kneel by the other. "I'm so sorry, my friend," he said quietly. "By the time I realized what it was that Scott had been affected with, I had hoped we'd still have some time before it truly hit him. I never would have let you come home alone with him if I'd known," he said quietly. He was taking stock of the other's injuries, lips pursed in a grim line. There was blood caked all over the man's face, the way his shirt had been shredded, bits of fabric clinging to the torn flesh. "The tranquilizer I gave Scott won't hurt him," he promised, "and there's a vial of medication in my bag that I'm going to give him. You'll have your boy back with you in an hour, at the very most," he promised. "Riley," Deaton called. "Leave Scott there, I'll see to him in just a moment. If you could, we need to get Raleigh up and into the bathroom."  

Just Another Victim

       If he hadn’t rolled with that hit, thrown himself to the side to get it to deflect off the edge of his jaw there was no doubt in his mind that his son would have shattered his entire jaw. Dislocating it was bad, but it was fixable, manageable in the moment as he crashed to his hands and knees. There was the warmth of blood bubbling up through his teeth, trickling from swollen gums and leaving small puddles beneath the Alpha as he pushed himself back up to his feet. His chin, the stubble along his jaw was splattered with the crimson, a hand moving up and pushing at his chin. He couldn’t set it then,. Still he remained unfazed by his son’s disposition, held his ground without fangs or claws, striding around him in a wide arch. With his chin hanging limply open, blood still seeping out he gave a slow shake of is head, mumbling, “‘m not fightin’ you, Scott. It ain’t you.” The agony was worth trying to talk his son down from this warpath. He moved slowly toward the phone, knowing he needed to call Deaton, Riley, someone for help. His son lurched again and this time it was claws cutting into the meat of his chest and it had him howling, twisting away as he stumbled to catch himself again, throwing an arm up to try and defend himself against his son’s next attack. “It’s gonna be okay, baby.”

It only served to incite Scott further, those words that were meant to comfort and the next time he came at his father, it was with a barrage of hits, a combination of closed fists and claws. His own knuckles split under the assault, his own blood mixing in with the other's, and still, Scott didn't stop, wouldn't stop until the other was nothing more than a pile of broken bones at his feet. He was so intent on hurting, maiming, killing that at first, he'd never even heard the door open, had never even realized that they were no longer alone until the veterinarian shouted Scott's name and he turned, a snarl on his lips. Deaton fired the weapon in his hands and Scott glanced down, eyes fading from yellow back to brown at the sight of the dart protruding from his middle. He glanced up, a look of betrayal on his features meant for Deaton before he turned, peering over his shoulder at the other wolf. "--Daddy?" And then, Scott collapsed to the floor in a heap.