#AED Carrie

[screamingay]

took a legit cpr/first aid training course and im kinda shocked @ myself for not having a first aid kit. im literally planning out my own first aid kit rn and god i wish aeds were cheaper but i understand why they're not

[spookypete-94]

Difficult Gratitude

GhoapxFem!Reader

Story I've had in my head for awhile now, and just needed to press it out finally.

Reader is female medic. Takes place during the mission of Soap getting shot. Implied established relationship between Soap and Ghost already. Reader very good friends with Soap, and Ghost still learning how to accept it. More then likely medical inaccuracies. Its fan-fiction after all. Will be a longer read, I didn't want to split it into a series (since in the process of writing one already) so strap yourself in. Trigger warning for smut towards the end. Language used as well. I started this about 345 this afternoon and just finished right around 10 pm, so I hope you like it lol..

MNDI!

Blood. Working with it every day made it seem not as grotesque to you as it used to be. The mass amount of it surrounding Johnny however, made your heart stop and breath hitch. He was lying in a large pool of it. You could smell the iron and wasn't even on top of it yet. Even with your nervous system short circuiting, your legs carried you as fast as you could to him. Sent with a different group of soldiers and TAC agents, you were kicking yourself in the ass for not urging Price for you to go with him and Johnny.

Kneeling over you saw a gunshot wound to his temple.

"Fuck," you hissed out pulling on the straps of his vest trying to get it off.

"He's gone." Ghost grumbled next to, as he had already been kneeling over Johnny. Ignoring him, you continued, laying your head on his chest trying to hear a familiar thump-thump.

Nothing.

You began to cut his t-shirt pulling an AED out of your bag.

"He's gone." Ghost said louder, next to trying to swat your hands away.

"I have to know I fuckin' tried." You snarled up at him matching his tone. Your eyes narrowed and teeth still bared at him. Fully looking feral.

The reaction from you makes Ghost scoot back, allowing you to do as you wished. Sure, you had worked with them for years now, but you've always been cheery and sweet. Sickeningly sweet, Ghost had thought. You wouldn't say you were close with Ghost, but Soap had always tried to make sure you knew you mattered to him. Out of all the unfortunate work you had to do, he was the beacon of light out of it all.

Ghost sat back, looking at Price who had approached finally. As the AED went to work, shocking Soap every so often after your set of chest compressions. Taking the time to start wrapping his head wound while it would scan him again before sending another shocking volt. Ghost finally looked up to Price, a silent plea to make it all stop. He couldn't handle watching his lover's body jolt one more time on the ground. After about 5 minutes total, you felt arms pick you up around the shoulders dragging you away.

"Thatsa' enough," Price grumbled into your ear.

"No!" you yelled, arms and legs flailing. "'M not done yet!"

"You've done all you can." He said arms on your shoulders as you put you back on the ground still holding you back. Looking at you like a father would after they had lost their beloved pet. Your eyes searched Price's as they welled with hot tears. The silence was broken however, as the AED machine made a beeping noise still connected to Soap... A faint noise and a line matched a heartbeat being read.

Pushing Price out of the way, you grumbled to him, a voice now full of gravel as you fought back the tears. "Call for a fuckin' bird." Kneeling back next to Soap, you could feel eyes burning into you. Refusing to look up you knew they belonged to Ghost. But you would be damned to meet him as you prepped Soap to be able to fly. Pulling an IV and a blood bag, you started hooking them in, all while watching the faint green line praying the cadence continued.

**********************************************

The flight back was rocky at best. You stayed with Soap, other paramedics now with you helping in all the ways they could. Task Force 141 not too far off as they watched their struggling brother.

A curtain was drawn splitting them off as a vent was used. Your worry came true as you watched the green line grow fainter.

"Losing him," someone said as they began to bag his airway until the vent was ready. You stood next to him at the side ready to start compressions again if needed, until another strong arm pulled you away again.

"Let them, you've done plenty." Gaz said soothingly trying to hold you to his side.

"I'm so fuckin' tired of you guys," you snapped fighting back once more.

"As your Captain you need to step back. Your nerves are shot. Compressions have taken it out of you." Price said pulling you back further away while on the bird. "Sit your ass down." Forcefully he pushed you down as he ran the belts to contain you in your seat. "I know this is hard for you, but you need ta' remember this is hard on all o' us righ' now. The entire medical team is back there, sit your fuckin' ass down." Accent getting thicker as he commanded you to sit still, all while trying to control his anger at your behavior.

And you couldn't help it. You slouched forward on your knees as the tears finally spilled over. "He's my best friend. The best one out of all of you." You said, your tone wanting to inflict pain back at them for pulling you off the resuscitation team. And the part that made you feel guilty was that none of them argued because they couldn't.

"He is," Price said agreeing with you, kneeling at your level, brushing your hair to the side of your face before doing the same motion again. "What will be will be now... You've done more then enough." You held your face in your hands, keeping the sobs at bay, refusing to fall all the way apart at the seams.

Ghost standing back and watching it all, heart in his throat feeling as if it was going to leap out his mouth and to his feet the entire time. Unable to say or do anything.

**********************************************

Everything else was a blur once landed. Peeking through your fingers, you watched as Soap was rolled out on the gurney. Ghost not too far away in tow, following the man he loved be rolled away towards the surgery room. Price unbuckled you once they were fully out and in the building. Was he worried you were going to chase after? If he hadn’t forced you to sit and calm down, you'd of been the one rolling the bed itself.

Seeing Gaz's hand reach out you to take it, standing up and letting him pull you into a hug.

"Proud of you." He said squeezing you, thankful you had fought back against Ghost and Price to save his friend.

Finally, you broke off the hug, heading towards the building and the surgical bay. Your footsteps felt heavy, but honestly you walked so quietly. Like if you made a singular noise, God would find you strike you down with lighting for fighting off the Reaper who was supposed to take your friend.

Having to take this walk many times with other patients you knew where to go. And to no shock to you, Ghost sat in the same hallway outside of the surgical bay already. Picking a seat across from him, you sat down and interlocked your fingers together and placed your head within it again. It pounded and hurt, fatigue finally settling in after your adrenaline rush.

Feeling the same sensation of the eyes burning holes into you again, but you refused to look up.

Ghost sat there in turmoil. He wanted to say something, to say anything. His tongue too heavy, as if it was made with the same lead that had struck Soap. Instead, he sat across from you, and searched you for any sort of emotion. Is that sleeping feral beast still in you? Would you snap at him again for trying to stop you? Or was that sickeningly sweet girl back...

Gaz and Price, both joined you both not too long after that. Both quiet.

Your knee now bounced with anxiety.

**********************************************

Somehow you had fallen asleep, head rolled back and leaned onto the edge of the chair. Blaming it on the adrenaline dump, you would never have been able to fall asleep in such an uncomfortable position and piece of furniture if you could call it that.

A light squeeze of your knee from Price as the OR DR. came walking through the doors to speak with you all.

"Bullets out and breathing with a vent for the time being." Ears perking up as he told you all. You shifted up higher in your seat, ready to pay full attention and ask questions where needed.

"Is he awake?"

"No, he will be in a medical induced coma for a bit until swelling goes down in his brain. Sleep will be the best method right now, and better pain management."

"Do we have a recovery window?"

A silent shake of his head, "No I'm sorry miss, this was an extremely evasive surgery and time will only tell with this."

"Can we see him?" Ghost asked, standing up ready to follow.

"Yes, you can see him. He won't be able to acknowledge you are there, but part of him will know."

The Dr. turned back to you, arm now on your shoulder.

"You should be proud of yourself. Your efforts are what saved him. No doubt a medal should be given in your honor."

The last statement inflicting rage. "You think I did this for a fucking medal??"

Oh, the feral beast in you was definitely sleeping and not dead. Ghost thought, as Price stepped in-between and you and the Dr. blocking your path from mauling the medical professional.

"Thank you, Dr., We will find him back there." Words rushed as he tried to send the Dr. on his way.

Gaz and Ghost slipped past the doors, waiting on the other side as Price tried to have a calming conversation with you.

"You gotta' keep it together. He just saved Soap." He said trying to comfort that angry monster lashing at its enclosure.

"Did you hear him?? I would give anything for Soap to be bullet free. Didn't do this for honor, I did it because he’s, my friend." you hissed back to Price in an angry whisper.

"I know, I know. Was something a muppet would say, but try to keep it intact yeah? I know what you mean and why you're angry, but none of us thought we would even get this far."

And how you wanted to correct him, none of them thought you would get this far, but you bit your tongue. No need to be spiteful. Soap was still on this side of the earth.

Walking in and seeing Soap in this condition was almost as hard as seeing him in his own blood. His head was fully shaved down, proud mohawk gone. Face was so pale from the loss of blood, but his chest raising and lowering even if it wasn't directly on his own will, made you feel at ease.

All picking a corner of the bed, and pulling up a chair, you sat up at Soap's upper left. You scanned his face for anything but knew that wouldn't come for a while. It stayed like this for a while before Gaz spoke up.

"Remember that time he broke the course record for clearing a building?"

"Was thinking about the time he did it and accidentally stepped in a small trash can and continued with it stuck to his foot." Answered Price laughing lightly, pulling his hat down over his eyes. You all knew he was hiding the descending tears.

"How he always calls us "Goat Heads", across the radio." You said lightly laughing, wiping your face. It was a stupid joke used in the place for "Go Ahead" meaning go with you radio traffic.

"The time he told me he could fix my problems if I took my mask off. How I knew I liked him." Ghost said, his hand running back and forth across Johnny's tenderly. You blinked looking away from the action, feeling as though you should never see something so delicate come from both men.

It continued like this for a while, telling small things that you remembered about Soap that had struck you. Until it was finally late in the night. You rubbed your eyes that were sore and raw from emotions that had racked up throughout the day, almost into the next.

"We should get some sleep. Ghost, I'll have them bring in a cot for you." Price said getting up extending his hand for you to take. Not wanting to be rude you took it, letting him pull you up. You gave Johnny a slight rub to his shoulder. Ghost might have been up and staring at you intimidatingly at you had it not been for the new fresh salty tears that pin pricked your eyes again.

"Night," you finally muttered to them all before stepping out and heading to your room. Your heart panged and beat against its cage. Once in your room, you stripped of your blood covered clothes and lay on the bed, turning and wailing into a pillow. You needed Soap to pull through.

**********************************************

Every day you took the time to visit Soap. Spending hours upon hours there with him. Taking in a radio so he could listen to his favorite music, sometimes rotating that to his favorite movies on a tablet. Ghost had come to figure out you knew a lot about Soap. It made him wonder how close you really are, if anything causing a spark of jealousy.

Ghost was angry, wanted to tell you that Soap's quality of life was your fault. Wanted to tell you that because of you, who knew if he would wake up from this coma. The Dr. had advised that they had stopped giving the medication to make him sleep 2 days ago... and he still hadn't woken up. Oh, how he wanted to say it was your fault that he was lying in this bed, unable to speak and move... but the alternative of his Johnny laying in the ground 6 feet deep, still unable to speak or move factures his heart more, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he holds on the small piece of hope that eventually Soap will open his eyes again.

It was hard for Ghost. Day in and day out he had watched as you did Soap's physical therapy. Instead of being out in the field as a working medic, you stayed back as his primary nurse. No one argued with you. Not even when Price left to continue his hunt for Markarov. Price had benched Ghost and you worried your emotions would get the best of both of you. In fact, if Ghost would of said all of those mean, hurtful things about it being your fault Johnny was bed bound, Ghost wondered if the dragon in you would wake again. He hadn't seen it since that day but knew better to question its status of it still being there. It would burn him alive if given the opportunity, and devour him whole. Ghost could feel the anger seep off you sometimes and wondered if you were thinking back to that unfortunate, bloody day. Did you hate him?

He sat in the chair next to the bed watching and listening to you talk to his Johnny. Raising his arm up and down to stretch the muscles so when he did wake, they weren't as stiff.

"I miss you stealing my pudding off my food tray. Wouldn't complain if you swiped it ever again, would just give it to you."

What else would you give him? Ghost thought darkly. There was no doubt that Ghost thought you were in love with Soap. Listening to all the stories you had, sometimes your favorite ones over and over. Now you were over at his right arm, picking it up, setting it back down.

"Thought about the time you were trying to help me pick a dress for the military ball, and said I would never take fashion advice from someone with a mohawk..." You said a whispering laugh afterwards. Honestly that made Ghost smile as well, but he would never tell. Thank God for this mask. The thought washing over and over in his mind.

"Soap?" The way you had said it made Ghost perk up. Looking up finally seeing your face change. It was full of curiosity. Your eyes flashed to Ghost's locking with his telling him something was for sure up.

"Soap, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand again." Ghost watched as the shells to his blue eyes fluttered, trying to open.

"Oh my god, Ghost," you said quietly, extending Soap's hand to him to take.

He took it from you, quickly.

"Johnny?" And he felt it too. A slight squeeze. "Johnny," Ghost cooed to Soap, causing the hand to squeeze over and over. A rhythm. Squeezing Ghost's arm, you slipped past him, running out the door asking for Dr.

Finally, blue eyes faced the world and locked with brown ones.

"Mornin' Si." Johnny croaked out squeezing his hand even harder.

**********************************************

Soap's recovery was lengthy to describe at best. The Dr. finally learned the extent of the damage to Johnny's brain from the bullet. Thankfully, most of it was only physical. Soap had to relearn how to walk and only struggled with words periodically. Ghost would work with him on his speech therapy, and you helped him with his physical therapy still.

Soap was persistent spending 2 hours with you every day. Ghost sitting back and playing overwatch, he had to watch the 2 of you interact. Your sweetness fully back. He watched as Soap would place his hands on your hips goofily smiling as you would pull them off and place them on the bars instead of the railing so he could support himself- you know like he should be instead. Something had happened to his Soap. He would lean in and smell your hair affectionally. He never did that before. Ghost knew Johnny still had eyes for him, still loved him. It was one of the things Johnny made Ghost practice saying first. Somehow Ghost couldn't help but wonder if this injury had rewired his brain, or maybe because he had almost died, he wanted all the things he could have out of life. It still hurt him to watch.

Your anger with everyone had mostly died off once Johnny had woken up. Johnny was all the good things out of this job, he was what made it worth it. If he had died, a large piece of you would have been buried with him. Maybe that was your fault for not being as close as you should be with some of the others... putting Ghost into a different light for you now.

Giving it a shot, you asked Johnny about things about him and Ghost. A way to bond and a way to test his memory. Where was their first date, his favorite thing to do with Ghost. And every time, Johnny answered with calling him Simon. He never once called him Ghost because that's how Johnny knew him. In away Ghost got to learn about you, interacting with Johnny, and you got to learn about Ghost. Johnny told you were his best friend because you were fierce and protective. So was Ghost. You stood up for what you believed in... and guess what so did Ghost.

**********************************************

"Didya' hear tha news, bonnie?" Johnny asked looking down on you as you helped him to the rails. He could do it on his own, but it was your part in PT to make sure he got there and didn't fall down. Policy.

"No, what news?" Your voice is light, airy, still a stark contrast to Ghost who sat in a chair not too far off.

"Makaraov is bagged and tagged." He said proudly, grinning. "Price and his team got him yesterday afternoon.

"No kiddin'?" Your world spinning off its axis for a moment.

Johnny gave a slight nod, hands bracing your hips again and pulling you into him giving a hug. His head placed on top of yours.

"What a fucking relief," you punctuated out, sighing heavily. The urge to cry hit you again but you fought it off. Instead, finally locking with the brown coals of Ghost's across the room. The first time you felt like he wasn't trying to set you on fire with a glance.

"Cannae hurt us again." He said into your hair.

"Thank God." you said the hot droplets finally falling down your face.

It stayed like this for a moment before you took a step back, hands bracing Johnny while you looked up at him and over at Ghost.

"Got news for you both too." Ghost stood up and approached to better join the conversation.

"I bought a piece of land, bought a tiny house, and I'm stepping out."

"You're leavin'?" Ghost asked crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"I can't do this anymore..." you explained feeling like you were being torn apart underneath a microscope. "What happened to you Johnny, changed me. I don't think I can do the job anymore... I have nightmares still." you admitted. Ghost's body language softening, shoulders rolling down, hands resting next to Johnny's who still gripped the rail. He didn't even think of the mental affect that it had on you too. Another thing you unknowingly had in common.

"Ya' cannae leave..." Johnny said hurt in his voice.

"You still got me, can't get rid of me that easily. I'll stay in contact. And you're doing great, I'd say you'll be fully recovered in no time."

"I'm comin' with ya'. Visit for a bit until I'm fully released."

"Johnny..." your voice light.

"No, yer ma' nurse. Cannae leave me. Si?" He said looking over at Ghost. Johnny knew Ghost would give him the world and never say no.

"Would be nice ta' get outta here, until he's ready to go." Head turning back down to you.

You sighed. "Fine, way to invite yourself, Johnny." You teased, smiling and shaking your head.

The happy blue eyes and toothy grin was worth it... even if you felt like space was being forcefully invaded.

You are glancing over, entranced with Ghost's smoldering brown eyes next.

**********************************************

The piece of land you had bought was in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by tall pine trees, a clear vessel of water cut through it. Mountains towered in the back, ironically 4 of them. You had named them Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. Feeling like it fits all of them somehow. Even though you were stepping away from it all, it was comforting to know you had something like them with you still. The air was crisp and clean, something you have not had in so long. No smell of a medical room, no smell of tar and tang from firearms. No smell of blood.

It was a good change... peaceful. Something you needed. You arrived at your new home first, readying it for your 2 guests. You decided it was best to put them in the master bedroom. A king size bed for 2 large men. How ironic that you bought it for you, and it won't even be used for you on the first night you have access to it. Once that bed was dressed for them, you made the guest bed. Finding the joke funny you were a guest in your home. Honestly, you were excited to have this transition with someone sure... but you knew things were off with you and Ghost. But if Johnny was here it had to be ok. You would make it work.

They arrived before noon. You went out to assist, but Ghost stopped you at the front of the truck. He opened Johnny's door, standing there to help him if he needed it, but Johnny climbed down on his own and teetered out with a cane.

He grinned his notorious smile at you. Large white pearls, blue eyes squinting with glee.

"Look at you," you said proud of him.

"All on my own." he crooned.

Stepping inside, you showed them around your tiny house. Not a whole lot to show them but wanted them to see where they would be sleeping and where the bathroom was less. The bedrooms were on opposite sides of the house. Theirs to the right when they walked in and through the kitchen. Yours just to left.

"Pretty close to the door... and far from us." Ghost said in the direction to your room.

"Don't think anyone will be looking or finding us out here."

A light rumble leaving his chest as he looked back down at you. It made your stomach burn. What kind of noise is that?

"If she gets lonely, she can just come join us, Si." Johnny said over his shoulder peeking into your room.

It left you baffled. Sure, there was some touching from Johnny, but you had always brushed it off to how he was altered from his injury.

Your face looking from Johnny, back to Ghost. Staring back at you and not saying anything. Strange behavior.

"Your guy's room will be over here." You said, leading them through the kitchen and into the master.

"Nice size room for a tiny house," Ghost concluded looking around.

"Nice size bed for us too," Johnny said. Not wanting another weird comment, you stepped away for a bit. Grabbing 3 glasses and a pitcher of lemonade.

"Why did you get a tiny house?" Ghost asked, "All this land, coulda had a big ol’ house."

"Always just pictured it as me. Don't need a lot of space."

Again, Ghost stood leaning against the door frame realizing you were more alike than you thought. You plan on being alone... just like he had until he met Johnny.

You watched an arm of Johnny's sneak around Ghost's waist, and you once more diverted your eyes. Did physical touch really bother you all that much? He wondered.

**********************************************

The night eased its way in. You spent most of the day still trying to get settled into your new home. You all were outside now underneath the stary sky.

For dinner you grilled steaks with an assortment of vegetables and mashed potatoes.

"Bett'r cook then yer' a medic." Johnny said in-between bites. "An' 'ats sayin' sumthin."

"Don't talk with yer mouth full." Ghost scolded. He had taken off his mask earlier in the day. You had seen him without it before, but it was hard not to look at him. His angled jaw, a broken nose from who knows when or what, a scar that runs over his mouth... but he was beautiful to you. It was your turn to burn holes in him.

He knew you were looking at him but took a page out of your book refusing to meet your eyes, trying to let you feel comfortable with him... for Johnny's sake.

Johnny started talking to Ghost about what they could do during their visit, leaving you to get up and take the dishes inside. Stealing a moment for yourself, you ran hot water and washed the dishes. You heard the door open, but knowing it was one of them you continued.

It wasn't until a large hand brushed your hair to the side exposing your neck. That was what made you turn around to look but was stopped feeling 2 arms pin you against the sink before pushing you back into it, leaving you stationary. Lowering their head down to the side of yours watching your shirt get tugged to the side exposing a shoulder. A warm kiss graced your shoulder before their mouth came back up to the side of your ear.

"I've never thanked you for it all," Ghost's voice rumbled in your ear, making you look up and out the window seeing Johnny at the table looking up at the stars. Your heart jumped and fluttered. Any much longer you were going to need the same AFib you had saved Johnny with.

"I'm grateful for you and all that ya've done. He loves you... And think I'm startin' to."

Thump-thump was what you were looking for Johnny's chest about 3 months ago. If someone were to stop and listen to yours it would sound like a double drum. He kissed your neck, before pulling your shirt back up on your shoulder and giving your shoulder a slight squeeze.

You didn't look back up at him as he slipped back outside sitting next to Johnny wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Standing there dumbfounded for a minute, you grabbed 3 new fresh glasses and a tumbler of good whiskey for the occasion, not sure if you were going to be brave enough to step outside. So, you took a couple shots from it yourself to make sure you would have the courage to join them again

**********************************************

It was here you found yourself laid bare in front of them in the warmth of the fire.

Johnny made the first move, pulling you into his lap after his 2nd glass of whiskey not being able to drink from his injury making him more brazen from the amber liquid. His hands had worked their way into your pants leaving you a squirming mess, Ghost sitting now turned facing you.

It made you uncomfortable, his eyes the same color of the whiskey you noticed. His hand leaning against his fist, face unreadable as he watched.

"Relax Bonnnnn," Johnny purred into your ear. "We've already spoke abou' this." 3 fingers of his rubbing against you through your panties. "Both wan' this. Both wan' you. Least we can do ta thank ya'." Making your body at ease.

"Both want this?" You asked, head turning against his.

"Mmmmm." Ghost rumbled. There's that fucking noise again you thought still not sure how to take it.

"We do." Johnny said still whispering into you, his other hand pulling your pants down.

Ghost leaned down, tugging them down further helping them off your legs and over your feet. Instead of taking your panties down, he kneeled in further, tonging you over your cunt. A large gasp leaving you, the sensation still overwhelming. Johnny removed his hands from there moving up your shirt where he slipped under your bra, lightly pinching your nipples. Friction makes you roll yourself against them. Ghost had picked up either of your legs, placing them on either side of his head and neck. Not even bothering to take your panties off, he impulsively pushed them to the side holding them with a finger. His tongue slipped past your folds and rubbed up through you making your gasp shriller this time.

“Ghost,” you hissed out.

“Call ‘im Simon, Love,” Johnny said rubbing your nipples again, making a whimper leave you.

Simon did the same thing, hoping for a different outcome from your mouth, and you called out to him. “Simon…” Fingers slipping into his strands of dark blonde hair.

“There ya’ go.”

Simon made you ride his face while you were sitting down essentially. Making your hips grind up into his mouth where he greedily licked through you over and over. Once he decided you were wet enough, he slipped one of his large fingers in you, leaning back up to watch you. Your head was rolled up onto Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny having slipped your shirt up along with your bra, leaving your chest exposed.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he grumbled slipping in another finger, your head now rolling up further to look at him. The fire only made his eyes burn more. “Savin’ the love of my life pretty girl. Realizing how stupid I was…” he said pumping his fingers a few times before slipping in a 3rd.

“Siiiimon,” you whined squirming harder. Simon leaned forward, kissing you, before breaking it off quickly. Looking up he said to Johnny, “She’s ready, you ready?”

Johnny nodded vigorously. Simon gently helped you off his lap and onto the picnic table, pushing you back softly so your back was against it, turning you so your legs dangled off the side without a bench.

He leant down over you again, kissing you once more. It was just as much tongue as he had used on your cunt, still hungry. His fingers lifted your shirt up over your head and behind you on the table. He took his off as well and placed it under yours. You realized he was saving you from getting splinters off the table.

While he pulled back, you stopped him, hand behind his neck. Your movement confused him until he realized you stopped him so you could kiss him this time.

“Oh bonnie,” Johnny said finally unbuckling his pants and pulling out his cock stroking it a few times.

“Makin’ this hard love, want him to go first so he properly thanks ya’… then you go and have to do something like that,” Simon says dry humping into you. The friction is almost too much at first making you groan.

“Get in there Johnny,” Simon said stepping aside, allowing him through and have access to between your legs. He was slow at first a little wobbly, this something he hasn’t done for awhile clearly. You used your legs and wrapped around his waist, helping him to align with you before pushing in. It made your head roll back, your hair bunching up behind your head, a loud filthy moan leaving your lips.

“Yeah,” Johnny said moving out and back in. Looking down, you saw Simon’s hands holding his waist giving him assistance in fucking you.

The sight was definitely alluring and attractive to you. Simon helping Johnny. Maybe this is what it was like for Simon watching you help Johnny, and you had it wrong the whole time. Maybe he wasn’t jealous… he was envious. It didn’t take long for you to come. Your legs gripping on Johnny trying to slow him, but he just pushed into you harder and faster. Simon holding his core. Your warm walls finally squeezing him and slowing him down. Your cunt fluttering so hard, all you could do was constrict on to him.

“Jesus,” Johnny hissed out finally leaning forward laying on your abdomen for a bit. Your hands rested on his shoulders smoothing out his hair, letting him lax on to you while he caught his breath.

Simon stood behind him before finally helping Johnny sit next to you on one of the benches at the table.

“My turn,” he said standing back up and taking position over you. His fuck wasn’t like Johnny’s, it was rough. Instantly ramming into you over and over, lifting your legs up to his shoulders again using his raw power. Something Johnny would have to work up to. Johnny leaned forward kissing you, talking you through it.

“Such a good girl, takin’ it so well, lass,” again tweaking a nipple and holding a breast as they bounced from Simon's pounding.

This went on for a while, and even then, Simon wasn’t done. He turned you over and propped you up on your knees, thrusting into you from behind, watching you come undone on him this time. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto him in a way that didn’t feel human… but it sure curbed that feral dragon in you. And that’s all he wanted.

**********************************************

Simon carried you inside and into the master bedroom before going out to help Johnny in. He had pulled the blankets back and set you inside them. You pulled the blankets back on the other side, making room for Johnny. Simon had an arm under him helping him walk into your bed. Simon then slipped in behind you, arm over your waist as he pulled you back into him.

Johnny rolled over to his side sandwiching you between him and Simon, hand in your hair stroking it.

“Did well, bonnie, good physical therapy,” he joked, thumb stroking your cheek.

You gave a small laugh, laughing harder once you realized you were in your bed tonight and not a guest in your home in the other room.

“Gonna need something bigger than a tiny house,” Simon matched back “gonna have little ones before too long.” His hand already over your womb, mouth on your neck again already.

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[autumnmobile12]

I like to think that 10+ years into the ghost hunting career, Mai and company are all scarily efficient in a crisis.

The anime takes place over the course of a year, and there are three separate fires that take place:  the kitchen fire in the dollhouse case, the fire that broke out at Yasu’s school, and the fire at the Yoshimi house.  There’s a high probability that those fires weren’t the last ones they ever had to put out.  Combine that with various injuries, the ambulance rides, the near drowning of a child, a murderous family, a horde of drowned corpses, and other assorted emergencies, there has to come a point where a crisis is just another Monday.

...

“There’s a fire?  Is it small enough that a fire extinguisher can handle it or do we need to call the fire department? Fire extinguisher it is. I saw one in the hall, I'll go get it." If the site doesn't have one, they grab the one they keep in the company van.

...

“Naru’s gone into cardiac arrest again?  Call an ambulance and find the AED kit we saw earlier.” (If they weren't all trained in CPR or BLS (Basic Life Support) after the Yoshimi Case, they probably were afterward. At this point, I imagine all of them have done a round of CPR on him and it's not even weird anymore.)

Everyone's medical information is probably on file and/or memorized. Every investigation briefing goes over the nearest emergency room locations, makes sure the first aid kits are stocked, and goes over if anyone is taking any new medications that may or may not react badly with anesthetics, anti-inflammatories, etc.

...

There is a sign on the door that says, "Unless your life is in immediate danger, do not leave the base unattended under any circumstance."

...

Basic self-defense became a necessity after too many close encounters with a violent, possessed person. That and carrying pepper spray. Masako straight up has a stun gun.

...

And the poor client's just standing there all like, "Um...can I ask how you people are all so calm about this?"

Mai: *casually trying to decide if a serious-looking cut is deep enough to warrant a hospital visit* "Listen, when you've been doing this as long as I have, there isn't much left that's a shock anymore."

[sol-the-otter]

Training Day with Kix

Kix dreaded this day.  He knew it was coming and he dreaded it.  It was CPR  and field medicine training day with Torrent Squad and he had to somehow get them to settle down for a several hour long class. He already had a headache and it hadn’t even begun.

It went exactly as he thought it might. 

He brought out the training dummies and immediately saw a Look pass between Hardcase and Fives. 

some highlights of the day: 

- Echo trying to hard to listen and take notes, but with Hardcase dancing with the manikin in the background is making it very difficult. Kix's headache grows even stronger. But he's glad at least a few of the boys are trying. 

- Jesse is giving Fives feedback on his mouth to mouth technique and it turns into them showing off their kissing skills and trading techniques. Kix makes a note to make *them* disinfect the manakins after. 

- when he begins showing them how to use the AED (Automated External Defibrillator), Fives puts the pads on his own body and presses the button, fortunately the voltage is turned all the way down (as it should be) and he only recieves a mild shock. Kix has to pause the lesson so that he can treat Fives. 

- Lessons on how to hold and gently let down a fainting person turn into trust falls. Tup is really great at catching people, Hardcase gets distracted far too easily and misses Jesse, who tumbles to the floor. Kix uses this as an intro to how to deal with a concussion. 

- He shows them how to use a tourniquet and field dressings and Echo ends up tied to his chair. No one knows who did it. He is, however, tied really tightly and really well, with proper wound pressure. Kix hates that he's impressed.

- Dogma and Tup are active listeners and are the first to volunteer when live subjects are needed for carrying drills. Both them and Kix regret this immediately when Hardcase picks them up and runs out the door. 

- When explaining the proper way to give injections, Hardcase and Fives are just a *little* too excited about it, so Echo (who has the steadiest hands) does the demonstration on Dogma.  Kix makes an executive decision.  Dogma is very relieved.

-Rex sits in the background with popcorn. Rex is very happy that the children are not currently his problem. Kix needs a fucking nap.

[hunterscabin]

The Lighthouse Part II

Summary: A hunt takes a turn for the worse, and Sam and Dean fight to keep you alive.

Pairings: Dean x Reader; Sam x Reader

Warnings: Angst; drowning; language; resuscitation; whump

Word Count: 2.2K

Author’s Note: I used Regina Femrite’s painting “Beam Of Hope” as inspiration for the setting. Comments and feedback are always appreciated! I hope you enjoy! 

The Lighthouse Part I

Dean carried you to dry sand and sat down. He placed you in front of him, your back nestled in his chest. He wrapped two strong arms around you, balling one hand and grabbing it with the other. Expertly, he thrust his fist inward and upward. Water began to drain from your mouth. Sam fell to the sand in front of you and placed a gentle hand on your forehead to help keep you upright. Once Dean was satisfied that he’d expelled as much water from your lungs as he could, he cradled your head and laid you down. 

Dean placed a calloused hand on your forehead and used two fingers to lift your chin. Despite ridding your lungs of water, you still were not breathing.

“Come on, kiddo,” Dean pleaded as he pinched your nose and sealed his mouth around yours, inflating your lungs. Sam grabbed your wrist praying to feel your heartbeat. It was faint and slowing, but detectable.

“Pulse?” Dean looked to his brother, dreading the answer. Sam nodded “yes,” still trying to catch his breath.

The urgency Sam felt turned to utter panic as he watched Dean continue to force air into your broken body. Your soaking wet clothes clung to your small frame. Your lips were an impossible shade of blue and your skin a deathly gray. 

Dean wrapped his lips around yours, this time blowing more forcefully. “Breathe for me, Y/N/N,” he cried out between breaths, “Please, breathe.” Dean had barely registered the lightheaded feeling that began tugging at his senses, when his brother stirred next to him.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice was frantic. Letting go of your wrist, he reached across your body and pressed two fingers to your neck. Seconds spanned a lifetime as Sam waited for the beat of your heart to reach his touch. He could feel Dean’s air entering and leaving your body, but there was nothing else. His stomach dropped. “She doesn’t have a pulse.” Sam groaned.

Dean felt as if all of the blood drained from his body. A darkness loomed over the beach. The one thing he was supposed to protect was dying beneath him. 

Dean moved to start CPR, but Sam was already hovered over you. He placed a hand in the center of your sternum, lacing the other on top. He locked his arms and began pumping your chest. After 30 compressions, he looked to Dean. 

“Breathe.” Sam commanded. 

Dean blew two deep breaths into you and looked back up at Sam who had already started his second round of compressions. Your delicate body rocked with each forceful push. 

“Fuck,” Sam whimpered as he felt one of your ribs give way. Dean heard the crack and glanced up at his brother. 

“Sammy,” Dean willed his brother to look at him. Sam’s eyes met Dean’s, defeat and exhaustion evident on his face. “You’re not hurting her, you’re saving her,” Dean assured, knowing exactly what Sam was thinking. Ever the caretaker, Dean found the words to comfort and encourage his brother even in the midst of his own fear. “You’re doing good, Sammy. Keep going.”

Sam nodded in understanding. He hung his head as he continued pressing down on your chest. “Please, Y/N/N,” Sam pleaded, “Come back." 

Dean quietly joined in his brother's panic. You weren’t responding. They needed a new plan. He thought momentarily about finding a crossroad, but he knew you’d never forgive either of them for making a deal. That’s when Dean remembered. 

"Sammy!” Dean’s exclamation jarred Sam’s already racing heart. “There’s an AED in Baby.” In their frantic attempts to revive you, Dean had forgotten the life-saving box that Bobby had given him “In case of an emergency.”

“What?” Sammy questioned in disbelief.  

“After a bad hunt,” Dean said breathlessly, “we lost too many people that could have been saved.” Dean began to gauge the distance between him and the car. “Bobby swiped two AEDs and made me promise to keep one in Baby.” 

“Take over for me,” Sam shifted, preparing to run. 

“No,” Dean protested, “You have to be exhausted from swimming back with her. I’ll go.” It wasn’t the time to argue, but Dean saw the look of strain on his brother’s face and knew that running to the car and back would push him over the edge. He needed Sam to preserve whatever strength he had left; Dean couldn’t save you on his own.

Sam said nothing but agreed by finishing a cycle of compressions and leaning down to take over breathing for you. The second Sam pinched your nose and placed his mouth on yours, Dean took off. He had never run so quickly in his life. He closed the over 100-yard distance in a matter of seconds.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through him, Dean was winded when he returned. He couldn’t imagine how exhausted his brother must be. He looked at Sam who was bent over, breathing into you. 

“Any change?” he asked, already knowing the answer.  

“Nothing.” Sam’s tone and face were flat. His entire body ached. His arms were burning, and even with the harsh wind against his wet clothes, he was sweating from the effort of keeping your heart beating. Still, he maintained a steady pace, determined to save you.

“Do you need to switch?” Dean asked as he opened the AED.

“I’ve got her.” Sam replied confidently. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Dean pulled the AED out of its case and turned it on. He reached down the inside pocket and pulled out a pair of medical shears. 

“Don’t stop,” Dean advised as he began to cut your shirt, “I’ll work around you.” He pulled your clothing out from under his brother’s hands.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Dean muttered as he exposed your chest. Dean took off his flannel, and as soon as Sam moved to breathe for you, he used the opportunity to dry you off. 

He pulled the pads from the AED and followed the instructions on the box, placing one near your right shoulder and the other on your left side. The machine prompted Sam to hold compressions and he fell back on his feet. 

The machine called out for everyone to stand clear, and Dean pressed the glowing shock button. He cringed at the sight of your jerking body. Sam pressed his fingers to the side of your neck and Dean took up your wrist. Relief washed over them as they each felt your faint pulse growing stronger. Sam leaned down, placing an ear over your mouth. Dean watched as his brother’s face hardened.  

“She’s still not breathing,” Sam announced with defeat. Dean positioned himself by your head to begin breathing for you again. 

“You can do this, Y/N/N.” Dean muttered as he pinched your nose and sealed his mouth over yours. He glanced at your chest to make sure it rose with his breath and shuddered. 

“Sammy,” Dean’s furrowed brow glanced down to your torso then back up to his brother, “cover her.”

Decency had taken a back seat to their frantic attempts to revive you, but now that your condition was less critical, both brothers were acutely aware of how exposed you were. Sam reached for Dean’s flannel and draped it over you. 

Dean inflated your lungs again. This time, he felt something inside you pop, like a wet balloon becoming unstuck. He gave you one more deep breath, and as soon as he removed his mouth from yours, you began coughing up water. 

“That’s my girl,” Dean encouraged as he rolled you onto your side, “Keep coughing, Y/N.”

Sam reached out and helped pull you over. He rubbed gentle strokes up and down your back as the coughing continued to rack your body. Dean kept one hand under your chin and another on your forehead to keep your airway open as your body worked to expel the remaining water in your lungs. Your coughing finally subsided and was replaced by a low, raspy wheeze. 

Sam laid down on his side so that he was facing you. He lifted a hand to brush the hair away from your face, thankful to see the color returning to your cheeks. With his other hand, he grabbed yours and squeezed gently. 

“Y/N?” he whispered, “Y/N, baby, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.” It was faint, but he could feel your grip tighten ever so slightly.  

“Good girl,” he sighed with relief, as he stroked your hair. “I’m right here, Y/N/N. Dean and I are right here.”

The sound of Sam’s voice stirred your senses, and you began to blink your eyes. A rush of pain coursed through your body, and you started to panic. Sam noticed your breathing become erratic and brought his face close to yours. 

“Y/N, it’s okay. You’re okay, baby girl. Look at me.” Your eyes found Sam’s and immediately filled with tears. 

“Hi, Y/N/N,” he breathed, his tone and face were warm with assurance. “Slow breaths in and out, okay?" 

"Sammy,” you choked. Your voice was raw and your throat stung.

“I’m right here.” He leaned in and placed a firm kiss on your forehead. 

A raspy sob escaped your lips. Instinctually, you began to curl your legs toward your chest for comfort, but it only intensified the pain.

“De.” you cried out. Dean’s heart swelled at the sound of his nickname. He was by your head in an instant. Sam sat up so his brother could move in. Dean crouched down so he was at eye level with you. 

“I’m here, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice broke when your teary eyes met his. “We’re both right here.” Your arms feebly reached out for him. Dean slipped one hand under your head and the other under your waist. He pulled you close to him and felt how badly you were shaking. 

“We need to get her out of these wet clothes.” 

Sam found the medical shears in the sand and carefully cut the sleeves of your already torn shirt. He peeled the cold, wet fabric away and helped Dean slip your arms through the dry sleeves of the flannel that had been covering you. Sam wrapped the front of the shirt around your back, and Dean moved his arm to secure it in place. 

“Let’s get her back to the car,” Sam urged as he unplugged the AED pads from the machine. Dean gathered the cords and lifted you with ease. 

“De?” you whispered. 

“Yeah, sweet girl?” he cooed, pulling you closer to him.  

“S-s-o-c-c-cold.” you managed. 

“I know, Y/N/N. We’re almost there,” he assured as the Impala came into view. You nuzzled your head in the crook of Dean’s neck, his familiar and comforting scent easing some of your pain.

Sam jogged ahead, opening the back door for you and Dean. He slid in and reached across to the front seat, starting the car and turning up the heat as high as it would go. 

“I have a pair of sweatpants in my bag in the trunk,” Dean instructed, as he reached the car. He sat on the edge of the back seat with you in his arms and gently rocked you as he whispered soothing words in your ear. 

Sam crouched in front of you with dry clothes and a blanket in hand. He pulled the shears out of the AED case and began to cut through your pants. Dean did the best he could to help maneuver you, in an effort to keep you covered. Fortunately, his large flannel enveloped you down to your knees. Still in his wet clothes, Sam was starting to shiver. At the mercy of his shaking hands, he struggled momentarily in helping you into Dean’s sweatpants, and you let out a pained and embarrassed whimper.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N/N.” Sam lamented, his eyes creased with sorrow. 

“S'okay S-s-sammy,” you assured, your voice still hoarse. Sam successfully slipped a pair of dry socks on your feet, and he and Dean worked to wrap you in a blanket. 

While Sam changed into dry clothes, Dean rubbed your back and arms hoping to restore some warmth to your frozen body. When Sam returned, Dean stood up with you and pressed a kiss to your temple before handing you over. 

Sam held you close and slid into the back seat. Once he was situated, he made sure you were comfortable, and you gave a weak nod. Dean grabbed another blanket from the trunk and draped it over you and Sam. He shut your door and moved to the driver’s side, sliding into his seat. He directed all of the vents so they were blowing hot air toward the back of the car. 

Dean caught Sam’s glance in the rear view mirror and they shared a long look of anxious relief. Dean nodded in understanding, and Sam’s eyes fell back to you. He cupped your face in his hand and pulled you closer, placing a kiss in your hair.    

Before putting the car in gear, Dean paused to watch the two people he loved most in this world. The sight of you and Sam solidifying his unwavering vow to protect his family above all else.

Masterlist

[blackbullet99]

The Idiocy of Aang Haters

First of all. People have a right to hate Aang. But hardly any reasons I come across are valid. Case in point this idiot on Twitter (or X if you wanna call it that).

First of all Aang was never a “nice guy” he was genuinely good person, the only time he started acting possessive was in EIP and even then he realized his mistake by the end of the episode, it doesn’t make up the forefront of his personality. He cared about Katara he never ignored her emotional needs at all, he was literally Katara’s biggest fan and would do anything for her. Also what mythology supports Zutara?

The only time we see Zuko comfort Katara twice in the whole show, which are both nice moments showing Zuko is a compassionate person. But to act like Aang never comforts Katara and just stands there is objectively wrong. When Jet dies Aang simply places his hand on Katara’s shoulder and thus reassures her, he also comforts her after bloodbending. We see Aang support Katara by offering to take her to The North Pole to waterbend, he gives himself up to Zuko to save Katara’s home. He helps Katara commit eco-terorism, he literally helps brings fun and levity into Katara’s life.

Aang doesn’t see Katara as an object, again that point is objectively wrong. We see Aang is literally Katara’s biggest fan. He admires her for her heroism and compassion in Imprisoned and The Painted Lady. He admires and respects her as a Waterbender and his Sifu. Whenever Katara’s in danger he’ll drop everything to save her. Even when they disagree about something they usually calmly talk it out even if they disagree. To act like Aang doesn’t value Katara is a gross mischaracterization. Sure Aang has feelings for Katara, but they’re friends first, they have a friendship built on mutual trust/respect where they value each other outside of attraction and their feelings exist within their close bond and friendship.

Regarding Aang and Katara kissing. Their first kiss outside of the cave in Omashu was mutual, sure Aang initiated it and it surprised Katara but it’s not like it was a one-sided affair. The one in EIP was wrong definitely, but that’s the point, Aang misread the situation, Katara was rightfully annoyed and Aang realized that it was stupid. It ain’t that deep, and it’s not like Aang S/Aed Katara. Also Aang had a dream about kissing Katara, okay? How is that bad?

“Both Zuko and Katara are people who've been shaped by a life of hardship thrust upon them at a young age by no fault of their own and therefore had to mature extremely quickly in order to deal with their environment. It's why they understand each other so well but Aang doesn’t”. Aang literally lost his entire nation. He was forced to carry the weight the of the world as The Avatar, younger than most too. He left because of many reasons, the weight of the situation, her peers alienating him, threatened to be taken away from his father figure. When he returned he saw his entire race was killed and he literally saw said father figure’s corpse. Aang also had to mature quickly and experience hardship through no fault of his own. Both him and Katara are both victims of genocide and colonization, both of their parental figure were killed. Zuko is a victim of child abuse, which is still very bad. This idiot ignoring Aang’s trauma doesn’t surprise me, given how they straight up downplay the effects of genocide and act like it doesn’t effect Aang because he was absent for 100 years and because he’s still able enjoy life and have fun.

So much of these points are downright repulsive, I don’t even know where to begin, this heartless POS is literally downplaying a child seeing their father-figure’s dead body and even though Aang was gone for 100 years, from his perspective he literally left The Air Temple only a few days ago and there would’ve been Airbenders around if The Fire Nation didn’t attack. Additionally it’s not like the genocide didn’t affect Aang, it comes up constantly in multiple episodes, it’s a core part of his character, he has survivors guilt, it’s why he’s so determined to save the world this time, it one of the reasons why he was so broken up when Appa was taken. But apparently because Aang likes to have fun, it means he has no trauma, what a braindead take, so people who have trauma can’t have fun. Aang literally chooses to enjoy life and have fun DESPITE what he’s been through, and that’s an admirable characteristic, it’s not like Katara isn’t above fun, in fact she’s drawn Aang because of this. They probably think Zuko is super mature because he’s so serious and focused on finding The Avatar and isn’t shown having fun, because to this moron, having fun mean you have no trauma whatsoever.

Back to this guy’s main point, while there are similarities between nations. The Fire Nation literally has the most power of the four nations and was straight up colonizing and invading The Water Tribe. Zuko and Katara do both get angry, both Zuko is much quicker to anger and even then two people who both get mad isn’t a good match for couple, they literally shot themselves in the foot with that one. Katara is literally a Waterbending Prodigy, love Zuko, but he isn’t a prodigy. “They care deeply about the people close to them”, so does Aang, so does literally everyone in The Gaang.

Literally none of this idiot’s points make sense. They clearly don’t understand the show they claim to love or its characters. They obviously aren’t a real fan of this show and it’s painfully obvious that shipping has blinded them.

Not to mention this person is a POS for downplaying and denying the effects of genocide, but also posts racist stuff like this. Scumbags like this honestly don’t deserve to have a voice or an opinion and the world would honestly be better off without trash like this loser. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were a Zionist too.

[ethersierra]

I had some Founder's Wake thoughts recently that I want to share here... These will be very unpolished and conversational fair warning lol

They have the phytoplankton which produce oxygen it's fucking great I love it But. Where do they get the sunlight from

Answer: grow lights. Like plants have grow lights and those work so it would be fine probably

BUT what powers those? Where do they get their electricity? I am thinking. Oh actually easy answer is hydro power I think they also use geothermal energy.

[@raspberrybluejeans says, "and maaagic", things click in my head and I enter a fit of creative and sciencey madness]

True just probably not a ton of it because of the Consequences and like prestige can be a source of energy but it's also like not easy to get your hands on, maybe because it is used industrially...

]Hmmm.. I think it's ohhhhhhh okay hear me out..

Their electric system has wires which pump prestige like as the conductors of electricity. Cause like electricity is just electrons moving across a gradient.

And in our bodies this is how our muscles are triggered by our nervous system, it's literally electrical signals (sodium molecules being released and moving across a gradient, causing a burst of energy) So like for prestige salts to be like a way to conduct electricity makes total sense to me. Especially because if you. Oh my god. It all comes together. My brinarr anatomy project and my Frankenstein project. They're married now

Anyway that makes sense to me if you take into account the fact that prestige salts are what give brinarr their conductivity, their aliveness, like the coral being imbued with it is what makes them capable of carrying life in this way

Compare this to Frankenstein, how he harnessed lightning to raise a corpse from the dead. And you might be like that's crazy Sierra and you're right it is BUT Frankenstein isn't fantasy. It's SCIENCE FICTION. The first of the genre really.Because BOOM back again to the sodium ion pump. To the nerves. How electricity is how we move and live. It's based on this idea, which I don't think they understood entirely at the time, But there were people who were sending electricity through dead animal parts, the most famous of which being Galvani, who animated a pair of frog legs, making them move. This idea of harnessing electricity to make dead things alive became known as galvanism, and it inspired Mary Shelley. This is also how like defibrillators work and AEDs.

LONG STORY SHORT. Magic and electricity working in tandem in Ethersea.

(+ thinking about how it would be hard to maintain the right balances of gas...i mean that would probably be alright...but at least in the swampland and conservatory it would be hard to be self sustained and the slums.. the.. frick. the where the farms are at the top because creating a self contained ecosystem is iffy, at least an entire biosphere is.. but it isnt all together theyre separate and regulated so maybe it would be okay. If like the space stations and stuff can do it maybe they can too.)

[macgyvermedical]

so i have this character who drowned and was pulled out of water with no pulse, other than doing rescue breaths + CPR can the rescuer used an AED and epinephrine on this character to get their heart beating again?

Yes.

In fact, you're probably going to need at least the AED to get the heart beating again in a normal rhythm.

The epi is a weird one since most people don't carry it in the form necessary to work fast enough to make a difference in a cardiac arrest. Like, could you use an epi pen (or other auto-injector)? Maybe, but the dose in an adult epi pen is less than a third of the dose usually used in a cardiac arrest (0.3ml vs 1ml).

And epi pens deliver their dose into the muscle instead of into a vein, so it takes time to absorb. Even longer if the only circulation is CPR. You'd probably have to do CPR for at least 20-30 minutes before even some of the epi made it to the heart, making it all but useless.

I hear you then saying "but what if I discharged 3 epi pens straight into the heart Pulp Fiction style (or took an epi pen apart to get to the rest of the epi and injected it straight into the heart)?" Well, unfortunately, the needle is not long enough. It's only 16mm, and the average chest wall thickness is close to 40mm.

So TL;DR if your character doesn't have IV access and enough epi, I would probably just stick to the AED and CPR.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

"Itto?"

A small groan from your tights gave you the clue that he was awake from his midday slumber.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Depends. If it's about my hairstyle technique, get lost!"

"Uff, no no. It's more... personal, that is."

He opened one of his eyes, looking at you. The peach tree where you two were sitting gave you both a refreshing spot even on those sunny and hot summer days, with a sweet breeze preventing the both of you from feeling the excessive warmth of the area.

"It doesn't bother you that... well, I'm...It's..."

You felt so embarrassed, especially talking about this matter. You could just let it pass after all, but...it was a small question that started to bother you from time to time, especially when those boring officials came every week, trying to catch an audience with you. He must have caught your difficulty in talking about this matter, so he decided to leave his pants on your legs to look at you, sitting not too far from him.

"I am like Me, the WoOoOoOoOo thing, the allmighty stuff, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that a lot, yeah."

"Okay, but...doesn't it bother you? I mean, don't you feel I don't know, emberassed, a little out of the water?"

You tried to sound as calming and easy as possible, especially with someone like Itto. But it was difficult, especially when you fight with your own demons in your head. The one who tells you that you're making their lives difficult, that they've risked enough, and that you still can't give them the rightful piece even now You've tried to be useful to them, to help them in their works, and all but this Creator status, people wooing at you like nothing, the fact that the Shogun demanded that you start to live under her even after all that she had done, the other nations... You felt like having them cornered.

He looked at you with one of the things that was so unusual about him: patience.

He looked at you, struggling to make you understand enough to him (a funny show to be fair), and... well, he got it somehow. He raised his hand, patting your head with some gentle yet confident gestures.

"No need to tell more! I got it! After all, it must be hard to be the second in command, especially with me as the first one!"

You concealed the fact that the real second in command was Shinobu but decided to keep it to yourself.

"Hehe...seriously, these things bother you so much?"

"I just...I don't want to slow you down or...or worse..."

"Eh, not a chance... Seriously, Y/n?"

He gently toked your hands in is... He had always had those big hands with those big and sharp nails, and they still made you feel protected or safe. They were so warm.

"The first time I heard of you, they said that you were some kind of monster that impersonated the creator. They said that you were pure evil! But then I met you, and you know what I said?"

He looked at you with the same goofy grin that he always carries around.

"To be the most wanted criminals in this world, they sure lack style!"

You stopped, a small gap in your mouth. Then you laughed at heart.

"S-seriously?!"

"YES! ...and well, of course, you reminded me when I was little, and my people, you weren't dangerous, you were just...you!"

His voice sounded somehow nostalgic. Itto wasn't someone who liked to be pity; no, I liked to give a good impression, which is simply an impression of sorts. He didn't like to bask in his old misery; he just used it as fuel for his future. You admired him for that, maybe more.

"The Arataki gang was full of outcasts, people who were unwanted...and, I know, a few of them weren't actually so okay about having you in it...but look how things had turned out! With you, our luck just increased! You're our lucky charm!"

He never even addressed you as the creator; for him, you were just Y/N or his lucky charm. That has always made your heart pound a little.

"And, yes, the people now are worse than before, but... Listen, I... umm..."

A small red mark appearedad aed on his face. He scratched his heada  little, looking away from your gaze.

"You...what?"

"I won't judge you if you want to leave and start to have the life of a royal!" You deserve that after all! It's your choice, and I would respect that!" But the Gang...but I..."

He sighed. You've never seen him so nervous around you.

"I would feel a little sad to know that my lucky charm is away, not mending our wounds, not helping me catch some fireflies, or in my beetle training."

You tightened your hands on his, caressing with your thumb some cuts that were still there.

"No! I would never leave you or Shinobu for the Archons! You're my family! Itto I..."

Your words stutter in your throat. He looked at you, his eyes glowing with something.

Say it, please. Say it.

"I...I... Itto I-"

"A package!"

The sudden appearance of a new voice almost gave you both a heart attack. Itto fell behind, bunkering his head on the ground. Kirara looked at you two with her two big eyes, wondering why such a reaction! You both were staring in silence for almost a minute; it wasn't like she was disrupting something, wasn't she?

"K-kirara! You...you scared us!"

"OH! My apologies for your grace! They told me you were here, so I decided to bring your delivery directly!"

"Ugh, you could have just left it to Granny Oni, you know?"

"Weeeeeell..." Of course she wanted to see you; everyone wanted to see the creator.

"Geez, I got it. Let me see what they have for me now."

Annoyed, your focus was now on the package. Itto, on the other hand, couldn't get his head away from the fact that maybe you wanted to tell him that thing. That thing that he wanted to tell you some time ago... Somehow, he was grateful to the Neko girl; she gave him the chance to confess to you.

[thecrazyworldbuilder]

Created a new Ilutanverse metaphysical lore detail: Neonyms and Paleonyms.

Neonyms are names that gods (of various degrees) can assume and present themselves under to the mortals. Neonyms represent the domain of the god within themselves, and there are various ways of formulating them. One such method includes an addition of -Vs at the end of the word associated with the domain of the anonymous god with some minor mechanics behind it. Neonyms are used to find new gods - it is in essence a way of asking into the void, "any god with X domain", and then continuing with a request or question.

The neonym is always short-lived, for it ends quickly; You call into the void for any god of fire, "Firis!", and some god answers (and it could be anyone, really, like Logi, Nyambe, Ra, Aed…), and afterwards reveals its true paleonym, or other more powerful name that is closer to what the god is rather than the neonym alias.

A paleonym is a true, or rather, oldest name given/taken by any creature. It is impossible to formulate or "make up", for every creature is unique, and so are deities, carrying that powerful and potent name of theirs.

[rubiesintherough]

aedus carrying his sleepy/sick/injured SO to bed like this and tucking them in with a kiss to the forehead.... that is all.

also ps: reminder that aed is inhumanly strong, so his SO could literally be twice his size, and he'd still be carrying them like this, easily.

[chaos-in-one]

Today on awful things that happened/was said to me at the group therapy place I went to:

- Group leader going on an entire rant to me about how I need to stop being so uncomfortable with things associated with my agab (the only thing I had been uncomfortable with was going into the fucking underwear isle when we went to a store) because "the other trans person I had in my group before wasn't like this"

- Somehow ending up with a guy who had s/aed me there, and with him immediately recognizing me despite it having been 2 years. When I told the adults about this they basically went "Oh well we can't keep him from being here at the same time as you so we'll just try to make sure he's not alone with you" and proceeded to do nothing to actually keep him away from me. I had to sit near him and have him try to talk to me multiple times

- When I was on the verge of panicking and went to the next room over to calm down, the group leader came in and told me I couldn't stay out there. I asked if I could just stay here or in another empty room for 5 minutes to calm myself down. They said no, I needed to be in the room with everyone else. So I asked if I could call my mom (to see if I could be picked up), and was also told no. I proceeded to start panicking and sit down, to which they decided instead of giving me a moment to calm down, to forcibly pick me up and carry me into the room full of people

And probably many more things I can't remember because this was like 4 years ago!

[teeth--thief]

First time sending an ask in on computer (I think). Anyway... Was it a hiking trip?: Kind of! In short, I went to a summer camp (est. 1922), and I participated in multiple activities orchestrated by the camp. We backpack-hiked for 3 nights and 4 days to the highest point in West Virginia, at an altitude of roughly 4,800 ft above sea level. We also went caving in the Butler cave system, at 12°C. I also got AED, first aid, and lifeguard certified. Inaccuracies and other underlined things, from Kate Brown's book: In carrying out a routine experiment, they turned off the reactor's emergency SCRAM system, which was, in any case, too slow to prevent an accident. As the operators finished the test, they planned to take the reactor off-line for several weeks of routine maintenance. But on shutdown, the chain reaction in the reactor core went "critical," meaning operators no longer controlled it. Physicists at the secretive Medium Machine Building Ministry, in charge of nuclear weapons, had known that the RBMK reactor had design problems and was hard to control because of a positive void coefficient; the graphite tips of the boron control rods, inserted to slow down the chain reaction, caused the reactor to speed up momentarily. While I know "SCRAM" isn't wrong, it just kind of annoyed me... I don't really have a better reason for underlining it. But the next one, "critical"... that's just... not what that word means. At all. Just, categorically, 100%, entirely incorrect. And lastly, she either confuses the positive void coefficient with the control rod flaw, or she really, really messes up her wording? It's unclear and only half-correct, either way. The graphite portion of the rod never actually leaves the core, so there's no real "insertion" (of that portion), and its not actually the graphite that caused it to speed up, it was the displacement of water in the lower section of the core. Overall, she has seemingly surface level understanding of nuclear reactor technicalities. Obligatory disclaimer: This is all to my understanding, so I could be wrong. I do hope your baking turned out well, (though I'm sure it did), and I'm sorry your birthday was not favorable! I'm wishing you a merry, happy, and loving belated birthday from here. - R

Woooo, that sounds so cool! I had no idea that's something one could do, we don't really have camps like that here as far as I know, that's really neat! Congrats on your certifications!

Yes, you're correct. One good thing I can say about Kate Brown's book is this: thank fuck she did not write a Higginbotham-style book because THAT would have been a disaster... For as long as she sticks to information she actually finds out herself through interviews etc, it's fine... mostly. Until she tries to do some good ol' fear mongering, but that's a different story.

And yes, my baking did turn out well! So far, everything has been not only edible but also pretty dang good :) Thank you for the wishes! ♡

[leiawritesstories]

Tomorrow

just a soft little Lysandra & Aedion scene post-KOA from this prompt sent by @autumnbabylon: I would like for someone to write a scene about Lysandra and Aedion talking about their relationship, feelings, hopes, dreams, etc. I feel like we were robbed of that moment in KoA.

hope this is kinda what you were hoping!

word count: 1,225

warnings: some slight angst slipped in there, oops

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soft, pale sunlight filtered into Lysandra's room the morning after Aelin's coronation, the gentle glow so at odds with the lingering scent of smoke and Valg that permeated the palace. Yawning, the shifter stretched her arms over her head, resisting the temptation to turn that stretch into a shift. Later, Lady of Caraverre, she promised herself. Later.

A little sleepily, she made her way down the corridors to the kitchens, following the faint odor of tea and hot buttered toast. She flashed a grateful grin at the cooks as she swiped a plateful of food, carrying it and her tea back upstairs to the smaller dining room.

Where she stopped abruptly, not having expected anyone else to be there already.

Prince Aedion Ashryver carefully set down his fork, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I can leave if you need me to, Lady."

Lysandra gracefully collected herself and sat down opposite the prince. "That's not necessary, Aedion."

He nodded slowly, turning over her use of his name. "Lysandra..."

She wrapped her hands around her tea, exhaling deeply as the warmth of the mug seeped into her fingers. "Don't feel obligated to say anything, Aedion. You don't need to."

"I want to." With that Ashryver determination of his, he slid his mostly-empty plate to the side and rested his hands atop the table, those turquoise eyes latching onto hers. "If you're willing, of course."

She raised a dark brow. "At least let me eat first, I'm not myself when I'm hungry."

"You and Aelin both," the prince snorted softly, a sly grin blinking across his face.

A smirk flickered across the shifter's face in return. She forced her breathing to calm as she ate her breakfast, though she couldn't do anything against the whirling of her mind. Try as she might, she could never keep those words of Aedion's out of her mind, her heart, her dreams.

I am going to marry you, Lysandra. I'll let you choose when--maybe five years, maybe twenty. But I will marry you. The flash of that endearing, brazen grin. Princess Lysandra Ashryver sounds nice, doesn't it?

They'd danced around the truths hanging heavy and unspoken between the two of them for too long.

When her stomach decided she'd had enough, Lysandra moved her plate aside and looked across to Aedion, folding her hands together. "Talk to me, Aedion."

Tentatively, he reached across the worn old tabletop, hesitantly laying his hand atop hers, still that breath of distance between his skin and hers. "Lys, I..." He cleared his throat. "I meant everything I've ever said to you."

She laced her fingers through his, rooting both of them in that small contact. "I meant it, too." She lifted her gaze, unafraid for once of revealing a piece of herself. "I love you, Aedion Ashryver."

Deny it though he might, there were tears in his eyes, too. "I love you, Lysandra Ennar."

She swallowed, gathering in her racing thoughts. "Aed, I--I'm not ready to--" She broke off, the words failing her.

His thumb stroked against the back of her hand. "I won't ask you anything unless you give me the word."

"Thank you," she murmured. A new thought popped into her mind, voiced before she could think twice. "Are you staying?"

"What?" He blinked, his brows furrowing.

"Are you staying in Orynth?" she clarified. "I know the...the rebuilding is going to take a long time, years probably, I'll be here some of the time but I am going to Caraverre when I have the chance. Are you staying?"

"As long as I need to," he answered.

Lysandra scoffed. "That's not a very Aedion-like answer of you."

"I--no, I suppose it's not," Aedion admitted. Then he turned her question around. "Are you asking me to leave, Lys?"

"No," she hastened to respond, the denial rushing out of her. "No, I'm..." You're what, Lysandra? "I'm asking you to come with me."

The prince, the feared general of the Bane, the bearer of the Sword of Orynth, gawped at the shifter, boyish hope flickering across his tired face. "You are?" he breathed, half-wondering if this was a dream.

"Will you come to Caraverre with me, Aedion?" So much more than that was wrapped into the question, and he knew it.

Will you prove your promise to me?

"Yes," he said softly, squeezing her hands. "Yes, Lysandra, as long as you wish for me to be there."

Her lips quirked up at the corners. "I suppose I'll have to figure out what to tell all the meddling family and staff," she joked.

He flashed her that brazen smirk she'd grown to love. "Tell them I'm yours, Lys. Tell them I am yours."

Gods, the way her heart thudded at that declaration. "What does that make us, though, my prince? Are you my consort? My lover?"

"I am your sword, Lady Lysandra of Caraverre," Aedion whispered, a vow echoing in his tone.

She sniffed, briefly pulling one hand away from his to flick the rogue tear off her cheek. "I don't deserve you, Aed."

Before she could continue her protest, his free hand rested by her face, his fingertips at her lips. "None of us deserve what we have, my--Lys. That does not mean we deny ourselves what we want."

Her breath caught at his soft encouragement, the declaration therein, the tenderness of his gesture. "Who said I was denying myself?" she breathed, catching his wrist before he could pull his hand away.

And she brushed a feather-soft kiss to his rough, calloused fingertips, her bright green gaze never leaving his.

He shuddered ever so slightly as he employed all of his restraint not to melt into her caress. "Lys..."

"I'm afraid, Aedion," she whispered, keeping his hand pressed between hers. "I'm afraid to go to--to my new manor, afraid of what people will say about me. About us."

"Let them talk," Aedion growled, the primal Fae part of him rising to the surface in defense of the woman he loved.

Her lips twitched. "Your territorial male nonsense isn't necessary, my prince."

"Fine," he sighed dramatically. "I won't punch anyone, Lys." A soft look she'd only ever seen him wear once--that night on the beach when she wore her sea dragon form--slipped across his face. "And I will go with you, Lysandra."

Something neither of them had yet named settled between them as he spoke those words, made that promise. Lysandra traced her thumbs over the back of Aedion's hands, running the softness of her fingertips over his rough, still-healing knuckles. "I know."

There they remained for a long moment, no words necessary to convey the depth of gratitude welling in both of their hearts. After his heart stopped fluttering, Aedion inhaled, trying to word the question he needed to ask in a way that wouldn't make Lysandra run away.

"Lys--"

She stopped him before he could speak, somehow sensing his intent. "Tomorrow, Aed."

Tomorrow.

Today, they would keep rebuilding Orynth, keep standing at the side of the new queen and king consort, keep reaching out to the citizens and listening to their stories. But tomorrow--tomorrow, Lysandra would take her leave.

Tomorrow, she would head to her new manor and begin building her new life.

Tomorrow, in the privacy of Caraverre, she and her prince could spill the hidden secrets of their hearts.

~~~

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[berglietz]

"What did you think you were doing out there?"

It comes out sounding like an accusation, but the enigmatic smile splitting her face says otherwise.

"I saw you," Sara continues to crowd him with words, leaning in closer. "Were you enthralled by Luna? You wouldn't be the first to be taken with Dark Magic. Have you experienced any loss of feeling? How's your mind? In tact?"

He should know what he had gotten himself into and the risks learning carries. Reckless use of arcane arts might spell the end of him for good, burying him under nightmares deeper than the darkness lurking beneath Aed. Though only a worst case scenario, Sara suspects Caspar lacks the ability to keep his emotions in check, diving into danger after danger. And she will not warn him twice.

"My...mind??"

Caspar leans back ever so slightly, just to put an inch or two more distance between himself and that strange expression on Sara's face.

"I...don't think I feel any different. Wielding a spell definitely felt different than wielding a weapon, though."

How does one describe it? Sara is a student of magic, isn't she? Does she know the feeling, then? That pull from within but also from somewhere else...?

"It was weird." He scratches at the back of his neck, idly chasing away the tingling itch sparked by Sara's questioning (and by holding those questions against memories of the tingling, thrumming darkness that had been at his fingertips). "It helped get the job done, but honestly?"

He settles into a simple grin with a slight tilt of the head. "I think I'd rather stick with using regular old brute force for as long as I can get away with it."

[lordleonster]

It was an easy thing, to drop all else that he was doing and seek out his friend upon hearing news of his arrival. Though the monastery was large and bustling, full of the comings and goings of knights and students, of those of the holy order and pilgrims, and even visitors of nearby territories, Sigurd bounded from hall to hall, scanning the crowd until he found the familiar stern gaze, the noble bearing of his best, most dearest of friends, his brother in all things. 

It had been so long ago, and yet felt as recent as any other memory that he could feel the fringes of but not quite immerse himself in, that they had been together at an academy not too dissimilar from this one. They too had wandered halls as charmed as these, joking and learning, and fighting and supporting one another in turn, forming the bond which would tether them together for the rest of their lives. 

The rest of their lives, meeting their ends not together as they'd thought, but thousands of miles apart -  

"So you have finally arrived, have you?" His voice doesn't boom or carry as it might normally – he does not know whence the tenderness comes, from the deep gut ache of his sorrow, or from the deeper love of his friend, but it matters little. This reunion is not meant for any but they. 

Sigurd had managed to dry his eyes as he ran about the monastery in his search, but as his strides took him closer he felt the welling up once again, and his voice thickened as he embraced Quan firmly, clapping his hands on the other's back and said simply, "I have missed you, my friend." 

It was an easy thing. Like breaking into a run, not of the body, but of the heart, until it broke into wind. Into pieces.

He closes his eyes, arms just as firm, just as simply— wrapped around the friend who had the world on its feet in thunderous applause. The friend that tethered by heart instead of chain, the friend who they'd write legends for, even if he would protest against it. This was the friend who would drop everything to fight, to pry, to live for you. Somehow, in his arms now, Quan feels the deep plummet of his heart, as it splits like an apple down the middle. And in Quan's arms, he holds a friend who holds the knife.

         "...Ha!" His throat is dry, on the verge of sweetness. If bittersweetness could be so sweet. "Looks like I'm not too late."

         "I hope you're alright." It's his hand now, that claps Sigurd's back, and makes the miles they've been apart feel more myth than fact. Quan feels his own ribs tighten around his pieces— a palm-sized, shaking, naked sorrow. He is on the verge of something deeper than himself, and it pleas. His heart pleas. "When you miss someone, Sigurd, it's with the whole of your spirit."

         "And you really should—" Oh. And just like that, that same heart of his falls out of the sky. There's an ocean welling in Sigurd's eyes, of the same make as a dream or a prayer. Or love, Quan thinks. Sigurd could love, has loved, does love. His brother of all things, he certainly could love. "Hold yourself dear."

         "For once, my friend, I should hope you miss me less. Now that I am here." He grins, knowing full well that between them there were no secrets. This grin of his is an offer to pull them both up by the straps of their hearts. But he chokes on the same loneliness that grips Eldigan, and on the same sorrow that sleeps by Sigurd's side.

         "For now, I shall hold you."

         His steadiness stalls the sea. And pulls the sand and mountains and the rest of the map into a fold.

         Their lives were handmade. What could distance be to a man who knew how to break into a run?

         "And I will hold you. Through wind and rain. Sigurd, you have my word."

         He suspects that his heart is no longer buried in Aed, but in the hands of a man who knew how to love. If it was to break, let it be for this.