#And if there's an AED I want to know where and you better have and tell me the location of the SDSs

[hiddenbysuccubi]

FASHION turn to the left FASHION turn to the right

Anyway I ADHD f'd with my bandage and ended up redoing the wound care with silver sulfadiazine and mom had me cut old (clean) pantyhose to put over the taped up gauze this time. Very cutesy.

[msneedful-ispleaseful]

Plug!Connie! - Spoiled bimbo reader wants to suck on something and its not her sucker. Connie says she has to be a good girl and wait, but you've never been one to follow rules easily have you?

The beat of a new pop song bumped through the car as it drove down the pearly streets of Beverley hills, riding past the gated community of the Wester field Country Club. Smoke filled the car, your eyes red and Sanrio nails clicking together as you practiced rolling the blunt.

The ringed hand on your thigh gripped hard "here!" you turned to the tall slouched buzzed cut man next to you, his tattoo sleeves gleaming in the sunlight, holding the blunt between your two fingers he could see it wasn't perfect or pretty but it was better than the first attempts. Nodding his head at the blunt with a lazy smile "good job baby, light it up this time hun" Connie said you smiled heart fluttering as you grabbed the hello kitty lighter you became hyper aware of the wind, the flame going in and out, his warm olive skin against your cold brown thigh his hand gripping tighter and tighter. you hurriedly lit the blunt reaching over to place it in his mouth.

Your breast pushed against his forearm, nipples staring to peak through your pink tank top you leaned back in your seat curinsg yourself for skipping out on a bra, and underwear because thats exactly where the air from the AC was headed, straight up your pink mini skirt. i reach into my purse and suck on my sucker to distract myself as smoke fills the car progressively, I close my eyes and let my thoughts wander, I think of my sore throat, the way Connie fucked it raw last night, making me take him in till my vision blurred not letting up for one second, I open my eyes and reach over palming Connie through his shorts he looks down at me shocked. he pushed my hand away and I put it back

Next thing i know his joggers are down his dick in my throat and he swerving through Beverly Hills in his black jeep, I have tears in my eyes and he keeps hitting past the back of my throat making me gag and slobber all over him, tears ruin my makeup and I struggle to breathe, his tip is red and angry between my lips leaking tasty precum that I swallow, I swallow around his dick again and aing to get more of that pre cum until suddenly his legs are shaking the car is nearly going haywire and streaming cum down my throat it slips down his dick and I lick him clean like a sucker

[teaboot]

A good thing to keep in mind is start big, zoom in closer.

If you're calling me, I'm probably on the property as stationary guard, foot patrol, or operating cameras, so what you want to specify first is what area I need to be in or look at so I can start moving. I get a lot of calls that start with, "so, I was outside about an hour ago, and Beth said that she saw..." that's gonna be useful backstoryin a bit, but I'm already moving. Actionable information first.

------

Example of a Bad Call, Foot Patrol: "Hey, so, I was coming in earlier today and I saw this lady walk into the bathroom with a big bag, right? And she seemed kinda off, but I thought, you know, whatever, right? But then I heard a customer say that they went in after and saw her sitting on the floor and it smelled weird, right? So I waited like twenty minutes and then knocked on the door and nobody answered, but I know someone was in there cause I could see their shoes under the door, so I knocked again and asked if they were okay and they said they were okay, but it's been like an hour and she's still in there but now she's like passed out and I can't wake her up"

Why?:

As soon as you said "this lady", I knew there was a person involved. 'Person involved' and 'calling me' makes me think, "Medical emergency or threat". My heart rate is up and I need to know why. All I want is for you to skip ahead to what you need.

Non-urgent backstory. If someone is passed out and unresponsive, they may not be breathing. Their heart may have stopped. Lungs and blood carry oxygen, oxygen keeps cells alive. Four to six minutes without oxygen and we're looking at brain damage. If there's evidence of drug use we need to tell paramedics.

Example of a better call: "I need you at the women's washrooms. A lady's passed out in there and isn't waking up."

Why?

Fast, efficient, to the point. I was on my way to you when you said "washroom", and I can call someone else for a first aid kit and AED while I'm moving or when I get there. The details of the emergency can be assessed from that point and if I need any other information I can ask.

------

Example of a Bad Call, CCTV Coverage: "There's a guy running around flashing people, and we don't know where he is."

Why?

Not enough information. What is he wearing? Anything that makes him stand out from the crowd? Where was the last place he was seen, and when? Different areas are on different monitors and I need to narrow down the last concrete window so I can backtrack if I need to. If he's already fleeing the area this might be the only shot I get at identifying features, direction of travel, a license plate, or evidence of assault. Who witnessed this? When?

Example of a better call: "A guest says a man in a red shirt and sweatpants flashed them in the lobby ten minutes ago, and I can't find him."

Why?

I have a description of them and a last known location. I can start looking straight away. I might ask if they have a last seen direction of travel if I need to, but if I can't find the guy immediately I can rewind back to his last confirmed location and trace his path from there. I'll be able to tell you in a few minutes if he's still in the area or if he's gone and we can proceed accordingly.

------

Again, if anyone with more experience here can add or correct, please do!

Yo I can't speak for 911 dispatch but working on the ground here are some tips for calling or radio'ing help:

First: Give information in the right order. 911 WILL ask, before anything else: City? Police, Fire, or Ambulance? They need to know who they're sending and where. If you're calling me (mall cop) I know you're looking for security presence, so my assumption is that either we don't need 911, 911 has already been called, or I'm about to be calling, so this part isn't always required.

Second: Location. I can't do shit about the five-foot-six Caucasian female wearing green shoes breaking into your car if I don't know where your car is.

Third: The most distinctive thing you see. Trash can on fire? Yellow truck got busted? Body on the ground? Person brandishing a weapon?

Fourth: If the issue is a moving target, pick the most distinctive trait about them first. Something that can be seen at a distance. "Wearing jeans" is not as useful or as distinctive as "orange baseball cap" or "coveralls". "Truck" isn't isn't useful or distinctive as "brown pickup, busted fender".

Fifth: At this point someone is on their way looking for what you've described, but they're still listening. Now is the time to add details. Heading north? Carrying a weapon? Additional clothing, descriptors, etc.

If you are calling emergency dispatch, don't just start talking. They will usually ask for what they need in the order that they need it.

If you're calling for security or CCTV surveillance: Location, distinction, details.

Note: I've only been in the industry a few years but I get a lot of people giving bad descriptions or misordered ones so I thought I'd put out a general PSA, but if anyone with more experience here has anything to correct or add on, please do

[jedi-hawkins]

Shockpack

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: This is an edit/repost of the original I made a while back.

Warnings: WHUMP, Cardiac arrest, CPR, AED usage, broken ribs, medical terminology, Crosshair is a bit of a bitch

Previous Chapter

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Disclaimer: Though this is fairly accurate to the correct process of CPR, please do not use this as educational material or attempt to perform CPR if you have not been trained how to do it. In an emergency always call 911 (US) or the appropriate number for your country/region.

While on standby for their next mission, some drastic measures may start leading to a new connection.

"Hunter, that needs to be more to the left."

Hunter brings his head back out of the engineering bay he and Tech are working on. Both brothers have removed their upper armor to make it easier to reach into the tight spots. "Tech, why did you ask for my help if you're just going to correct everything I do?"

"Because, I need an extra set of hands, Hunter. The General is busy working and you sent Crosshair and Wrecker out for supplies."

Bryn chuckles at the two arguing brothers before turning back to the holomap in front of her.

"Well if you keep telling me what to do, then you'll have to grow the extra set of hands yourself." Hunter snaps back.

Tech sighs. "I'm just saying, if that component is not at the optimal angle, then it may not remain stable-"

"It's attached to the ship, Tech. What's next?"

Footsteps signal the return of Crosshair and Wrecker, the latter sets down two large crates as his brother hefts two packs from his shoulders.

"The med supplies are in here, General." Wrecker says, pointing to one of the large crates.

Bryn smiles, "Thanks, Wrecker. You guys get everything else?"

"Apparently ration packs for this sector are in short supply, so bars will have to do." Crosshair says. "Much to Wrecker's disappointment."

His brother grumbles in response as a few metal clanks and choice curses from Hunter float over from the side of the Marauder.

"That sounds fun." Crosshair says, placing a toothpick in his mouth.

Bryn rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I think Hunter is getting close to strangling Tech with one of the exhaust hoses."

Wrecker chuckles. "Heh, there's the quick way and the Tech way."

"What's the word?" Crosshair asks.

Bryn shrugs, "Command sent high praises for our work in our first month on active duty, but nothing on a new assignment. They'll let us know where they want us soon."

Wrecker looks over Bryn's shoulder. "Whatcha working on?"

"Well I'm supposed to be finishing the mission report for our work on Lutrilla, but instead I'm working on this for Obi-wan." Bryn replies.

"General Kenobi?" Crosshair's interest is piqued and he moves to stand on Bryn's other side.

"Yeah, long time friend of mine." Bryn mumbles. "He's currently stationed on Ques and the terrain is giving them some trouble in clearing out the Separatists. I'm trying to see if I can come up with something to help."

The sniper's lip curls, "Do that a lot? Help Kenobi?"

Bryn hums, turning the map. "We help each other. We came up together in the Order, he's a good man, and a better leader."

"High praises coming from you, I'm sure." Crosshair says, though not without a hint of sarcasm.

"What's their issue with the terrain?" Wrecker says, standing on the other side of the table.

Bryn points to a section on the map. "The Seppies have taken this canyon as their central point of operation. Their base is halfway between the north and south entrances and they have battalions on the high ground posted along both the east and west rims. It's basically impossible to get down to their base. What do you two think?"

Wrecker brings his hand to his chin in thought. "Ques you said? That system has a network of catacombs going through its ridges. They were drainage and aqueducts for some ancient civilization there, pretty much abandoned now. It'd be a risk, but if they could find a way to get into the tunnels outside of the Seppie's sights, a few carefully placed detonations, and they should be able to blow straight through the canyon wall right outside the main base."

"That could work." Crosshair agrees. "If they make enough noise when they storm the base, they could draw the forces off the rims and into the canyon, making way for a second wave of Republic air support to claim the high ground."

Bryn smiles at her teammates, "That sounds perfect. Obi-wan has the special forces that could handle the catacombs and the numbers to take the ridges. Where did you hear about those tunnels, Wrecker?"

He just shrugs. "I was reading up on the history of some antique weapon classes and came across some records about them."

Before anyone can say anything else, a large bang comes from the Marauder. Bryn, Wrecker and Crosshair run over to see Hunter is lying on his back, eyes closed, and Tech is shaking his brother's arm.

"Tech what happened!?" Bryn shouts, sliding to a stop on her knees at Hunter's shoulder.

"I-I don't know General. I told him that component could become unstable at the wrong angle."

Her gaze follows Tech's finger that's pointing to a small metal part lying a few feet away from Hunter.

Bryn's eyes widen and she elbows Tech out of the way, nearly causing him to fall over. "Move." She leans her cheek close to Hunter's face and places two fingers on his neck.

"It happened so quickly, but I think it hit him. At first he seemed okay, but then he just collapsed." Tech stammers out.

Wrecker's brow furrows as he watches the Jedi move to her hands and knees, locking her fingers together and positioning the heel of her hand over Hunter's sternum. "What are you-"

"Hunter's heart isn't beating. Shockpack in the med bay. Bright orange. Go." Bryn says.

Wrecker disappears as Bryn starts leaning all her weight onto her Sergeant's chest in rhythm. Crosshair can hear her muttering under her breath.

"fifteen... sixteen... seventeen..."

Wrecker returns with the case and sets it down at Hunter's side opposite Bryn. "Now what?" he asks.

Bryn stops pressing on Hunter's chest and pulls a vibroblade from its sheath on her thigh, sliding it through the front of the Sergeant's upper blacks. She immediately goes back to thrusting her hands into Hunter's chest. "Open the case. Put the pads on his chest like the picture and turn it on. Work around me." She says, her breath starting to become labored.

All the brothers freeze when Bryn suddenly leans down and presses her lips to Hunter's. The General is kissing their ori’vod.

After a couple seconds Bryn straightens back up and goes back to pushing into Hunter's chest. When she notices the squad frozen around her she barks at them, "I gave you an order!"

Her voice shakes Crosshair and Wrecker form their daze and they quickly work together to follow her instructions. They peel the backing off the sticky shock pads and press them to Hunter's chest. Wrecker presses the green 'on' button and a smooth voice comes from the shock pack.

'Device on. Pads attached. Analyzing heart rhythm. Do not touch the patient.'

Bryn stops her movements and holds her arms out to keep the brothers back.

'Shock advised.'

'Do not touch the patient. Deliver shock.'

Bryn reaches across Hunter and presses a big flashing button on the shockpack and Hunter's body jolts with electricity.

'Continue Compressions.'

Bryn immediately jumps back to Hunter's chest, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. "Come on, Hunter. Come on." She mutters under her breath.

A few sickening cracks come from the Sergeant's chest and Tech adjusts his goggles. "It appears you have broken his ribs."

Crosshair balls up his fists. "She just broke his what?"

Tech peers over her shoulder. "Are you sure-"

"Of course. I'm sure." Bryn snaps as she continues pressing on Hunter's chest.

Crosshair reaches out and wraps his hand around one of her wrists, trying to stop her motions. "Do you really think I'm going to let you keep doing that?"

"Crosshair, please." She huffs, continuing against his tightening grip.

"How do we know you actually know what the hell you're doing-"

"How dare you. I'm trying to save him. You have to trust me." Her eyes flash with fire, making him release her.

She leans down and presses her lips to Hunter's again. The brothers look on helplessly as their General returns to compressing Hunter's chest.

After another minute, the eerily calm voice speaks from the shockpack again.

‘Analyzing heart rhythm. Do not touch the patient.’

Bryn holds her arms out over Hunter, waiting for the device.

'Shock advised.'

'Do not touch the patient. Deliver shock.'

This time, Tech reaches down and presses the flashing button on the orange device and Hunter's body jolts once more.

'Continue Compressions.'

Strands of hair fall into her face as Bryn braces against Hunter again. After she presses her lips to his once more she starts muttering under her breath.

"Come on Hunter. Breathe. Come back." Bryn feels a pull in the Force and she reaches out for it, pushing it through her palms into her Sergeant.

A tear falls from her face and hits Hunter's cheek. Suddenly, he takes a gasping breath, his eyes flying open. His brothers immediately lurch forward to be closer as Bryn takes her hands off him and leans back on her heels.

Hunter's eyes move frantically around him to get oriented. "Wh-what?"

He tries to sit up but Bryn presses a gentle hand to his shoulder to keep him laying flat. She shushes him gently, "It's okay, you're okay. Just lay still for a second."

Hunter blinks. "What happened?"

Bryn gives him a weak smile. "Your heart stopped."

"That component that you fitted blew off the ship and struck you." Tech remarks. "What I don't understand is how it caused this."

Bryn strokes a few strands of Hunter's hair. She responds without moving her eyes from him. "Commotio cordis. When an object hits someone in the chest in just the right spot at just the right time in their heartbeat, it causes the heart to stop."

Wrecker's eyes widen. "That can happen?"

"It's rare, but yes." Bryn nods as she peels the shock pack pads off of Hunter.

"Oh so that’s what our chest plates are for." He says sarcastically.

A laugh escapes Bryn as she shakes her head. Hunter tries to sit up again but groans in pain and lays back down.

"I get my heart stopped, but it's working now. Does someone want to tell me why my chest hurts so bad?" He moans.

"The General broke your ribs." Tech says simply.

Hunter looks back at Bryn who gives him an apologetic face. "Broken ribs or death. Those were your options." She simply replies. "Bacta patches should be on the ship. Do you think you can get up or do you want us to bring one to you?"

Hunter shakes his head. "No, I'm good. I can get up."

Bryn offers Hunter her hand and supports his back with the other as he gingerly sits up. Another groan passes his lips as he stands with additional help from Tech. The perma-bunk in the Marauder's med bay creaks slightly as Bryn and Tech sit him down on it, leaning him back on pillows.

"I'll leave you to it, General." Tech says.

As the door slides closed behind him, Bryn moves over to the med cabinet and pulls out the bin of bacta patches. After fishing out the correct size, she turns around to Hunter who's watching her intently.

The bunk creaks again as Bryn sits down on its edge. She peels the backing off the patch and gently presses it over the center of Hunter's chest where she felt his ribs break. Hunter hisses at the pressure.

"I know, I'm sorry." Bryn says, tossing the patch wrapper in the trash bin.

Hunter shakes his head. "Don't apologize. You saved my life."

Bryn gives him a smile as she reaches over to grab some trauma scissors off the counter. "These blacks are spent, I'm assuming you don't want them?" She says, gesturing to his cut upper blacks, revealing the continuation of his skull tattoo.

He laughs, "I don't know. This could be my new look."

Bryn rolls her eyes again as she cuts up each sleeve, allowing the fabric to fall from Hunter's figure. He leans forward with a grimace to allow Bryn to pull the shirt out from behind him.

"You're going to need to rest for a bit before you're back on your feet. With the bacta, a couple hours should be enough." Bryn says, standing up from the bunk. "Here, I can take your armor off to make you more comfortable."

Hunter nods his consent and Bryn gently slides his feet out of his boots and undoes the fastenings on his lower armor pieces, shifting him gently to remove them. In just his lower blacks, he settles into the medbunk, looking much more content. Bryn turns to leave the med bay, but Hunter grasps her wrist.

"Stay?" He asks, pleading with wide eyes.

His demeanor shocks Bryn for a moment, but the look on Hunter's face draws her back to the medbunk. Slowly, she sits back down on the bunk and scoots in next to Hunter. He turns his body to curl into her and rests his head on her chest, breathing in her sweet woody scent.

Bryn can feel his energy swirling, it's tense, jittery. "It's okay." She mutters.

"I've never heard of anything like that happening before."

Although Hunter put up a front of strength for his brothers, it is quickly slipping in Bryn's calming presence. She bites her lip as the miniscule tremble in Hunter's voice reminds her how little of the galaxy the clones have seen.

Bryn's arm wraps around his back. "I know that was scary."

It's barely noticeable when Hunter nods his head. "Different from battle. If you hadn't..."

She gently shushes him. "I've got you, just rest."

Hunter's breathing slows into little puffs of air as Bryn absentmindedly plays with his soft curls. He stirs for a second and mumbles something she can't quite hear.

"What was that?" She asks.

Hunter lets out a little huff of air. "Tech is never going to let this go."

Bryn laughs lightly, and rests her chin on the top of his head. "Next time, I'll work on the ship with Tech."

The door to the medbay whooshes closed behind Bryn as she steps into the Marauder's hallway and straight into an armored figure.

"Wha- Crosshair." She says.

The sniper's lip curls at her. "Break anything else?"

Bryn shakes her head. "He just got to sleep, can we at least do this outside?"

Crosshair looks her up and down and turns to leave the Marauder without another word. Sighing, Bryn follows after.

Their boots crunch in the dirt as Crosshair stomps down a trail towards the nearby river. When he reaches the banks, he turns around to face the Jedi behind him. Bryn stands with her arms crossed. "Well, go ahead."

"Go ahead with what?" Crosshair sneers.

Bryn drops her arms, resting a hand on her belt. "You obviously have some choice words you want to say to me. I thought we were past this, Crosshair."

His temple twitches as he clenches his jaw. "We're taught to keep our opinions about superiors to ourselves." he spits out as if the words are poison.

Bryn's eyebrow twitches in amusement. "Well then, if that's how you want to do it." She shakes her head and straightens her posture to full attention. "I, Jedi Master Bryn-ayla del Caro, member of the Jedi High Council and General of the Galactic Army of the Republic, permit you, Clone Commando CT-9904, designation Crosshair, to speak freely without risk of penalty or court martial for misconduct or insubordination." She finishes in a mocking tone.

This just makes Crosshair roll his eyes as he starts stomping back and forth along the river bank. "Do you have to make a joke or positive spin out of everything?"

Bryn smirks. "Like you don't always have a remark? You're throwing stones from a glass house."

"Aurgh!" He growls out. "You're infuriating. Look at you, high and mighty Jedi Master, nothing can touch you, the galaxy is at your feet. And my brothers! My brothers falling in love with you instantly, I'm not so easily turned..."

Bryn takes a breath. "Crosshair... I've really been trying with you. I'm not forcing myself into your space, I'm giving you time to get used to me, letting you process. You're like a karking tooka, one day I think you're warming up to me, the next you can't stand the sight of me. What, do I need to leave out a saucer of blue milk for you?" 

The sniper's eyes are nearly glowing. "I am not some mindless animal for you to wrangle-"

"Of course not." Bryn cuts him off. "You're human, with thoughts and emotions all your own. It's not my job to wrangle you. My job is to protect you. You think I'm untouchable? I envy you, Crosshair. Your brothers are still alive, you got to grow up with them, know them for who they are. The closest thing I've had to a family is the Order and even then, they're not the most understanding bunch. The four brothers I had of flesh and blood were taken before I got to see who they had become. But I see you, Crosshair." 

His feet come to a stop under her gaze and he gets that feeling again, that she's looking through him. 

"You are so full of emotion, though you try to hide it." Bryn says, her voice calm. "The love you have for your brothers, the anger at the other clones for shunning you. Your worry that you won't be able to protect them. I haven't delved into your mind out of respect for your privacy, but I do get waves of what's overflowing from you. Your frustration with me. You've been treating me like I'm going to treat you as the rest of the galaxy has, but you're realizing that I'm different. That scares you, and you're resisting. You're resisting your desire to drop the act and accept me." 

Crosshair's shoulders drop as he finally lets some tension go. Bryn can see the words turning over in his head. What she said was true, they both know it. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Bryn is knocked over by an unseen force.

Blinking from the impact with the ground, she sees Crosshair, draped in a heavy net, same as what hit her. He stops struggling against the net as his eyes set on something behind her.

"Well, well. What do we have here?” A voice sneers, dirt crunching under boots. “A trooper, and a Jedi. That should get us a nice score."

Another voice snickers. "Hondo will be pleased."

Bryn starts to retort, but the nets pinning her and Crosshair to the ground light with electricity, searing through their bodies before their vision goes black.

A/N: As I was doing the final formatting to post this chapter I was thinking. Why wouldn't the Batch know how to do CPR since they are trained in basic field medicine? I mean you could say the Kaminoans didn't think it was necessary training for them since they're not GAR Medics, or that the Clones are engineered to not have heart defects and their armor protects them, or their chest plates have AEDs inside them to detect a cardiac arrest and shock them automatically (because CPR doesn't really revive someone in cardiac arrest, an AED does. CPR just keeps the blood/oxygen circulating through their body long enough for the shock to work). But the longer I thought about it... It likely just wasn't taught because there were so many clones in the GAR, if one dropped from Cardiac Arrest, they'd just call it a KIA fatality or a 'defective' and move on, which then gave me the sads (wow what a surprise, an author giving themselves the sads with something they are wholly responsible for writing). The clones deserved so much better.

Taglist:

@callsign-denmark @arctrooper69 @anxiouspineapple99 @clonethirstingisreal @photogirl894

[moonrisecalamityretreat]

Battle of Armageddon | MM Execution

Jinpachi didn’t have any hope for a future

Jinpachi didn’t have any hope for tomorrow

There was never going to be a tomorrow for him and he really wouldn’t have it any other way. From his most beloved people, despair is denounced and hope is held on high. Maybe not hope, both the concepts that shaped Jinpachi’s life and beliefs have been denounced in full by his beloved. 

They will walk away from here with heads held high, they will walk out into a world that they will make their own. No matter how much destruction overtakes it again and again…they will rise. Despair was just a feeling, hope was just a feeling. Two human emotions that exist in tandem with each other. Jinpachi was devoid of the latter and he wished he could make everyone feel the same. Everyone in the world feel the freedom of AEDS and feel the freedom that is despair…

But, they were just feelings that these people could work through. What drove these people felt like it was more than just hope. It was determination. It wasn’t a feeling that guided them, it was the knowledge that they will take action. They don’t hope for a better future. They are going to make one. 

For they have faith in themselves to persevere. 

How sweet…how disgustingly beautiful Jinpachi found this. He can’t help but let out his small laugh.

“Hmhmhm! So this is the path you’ve all chosen. Regardless of whether this is hope or the path you’ve all chosen for yourselves…I’m a sore loser as you know…”

He looks at them all as his face darkens and the Saints behind him raise up their arms with vocalization. They didn’t speak words but instead chanted. They began to sing a hymn for their messiah. 

[♫♫♫]

The madness in his own head spirals out of control. The gears of what was left of him shaking and turning at such high velocity that it all shatters and they fall. 

“I hate predictability. What fun would this ending be if it just went how it was expected? Don’t you think that’s a little boring? I won’t just say au revoir and go alone. As much as I desire the despair of death, I desire just as much for you all, my beloved friends, to experience it together with me.” 

A smile stretches from ear to ear as his arms rise to the sky with sick delight. As if he had full control of it, as if he was an otherworldly conjurer, a line of flames began and ran past his sides to the back of the room and up the walls. 

Just as quickly as the walls become engulfed in burning patterns stretching all along the outside of the room, your own makeshift podiums ignite forcing you all away from them. With the way this was spreading it surely wasn’t going to be long till the room was filled with smoke and falling apart. You can cover your faces and as you look to the opposite side of the room where The Shepherd stood surrounded by fire you see that hopeless face.

If Jinpachi had seen himself as an angel, as a Christ-like figure, you see clearly from his expression that he was actually an Anti-Christ. 

[♫♫♫]

“Kill them all my lambs. None of them are to escape from here. I won’t lose my most precious people. I won’t let them live without me in their lives again. If I go then we all go together.”

Jinpachi Otsuka wanted to die, he wanted all of his loved ones to die with him.

To have them all know the despair of Haku Hisakawa felt gripping at his throat as it closed up and strangled him.

To have them all know the despair of Reimi Hanada as the bomb came down on her and left them an unrecognizable corpse.

To have them all know the despair of Rowan Valentine who experienced his greatest fear as she fell from the carriage of the ferris wheel. 

To have them all know the despair of Hisakata Imai as his rope was sliced and he fell just like the way his victim did.

To have them all know the despair of Ikko Denda as despite her best efforts to defend the people she wanted to save, she was gunned down. 

To have them all know the despair of Sayuri Nomura fighting for her life and yet despite it all taking a swift smack to the head.

To have them all know the despair of Hotaru Doigawa as she saw her sister and suffered the same fate of having a bullet run her through.

To have them all know the despair of Yvette as she was surrounded by the people she loved who could do nothing to save her.

To have them all know the despair of Mio Date as she assisted in trying to kill him and yet her back was torn open by an axe.

To have them all know the despair of Juzo Miyazaki as he struggled against his brother before succumbing to his hands in front of you all. 

Were these deaths truly all despair…or were some laced with hope. It mattered not to Jinpachi because they all ended the same way anyway. 

The Saints rush the moment they are given their command. Blades in hand, they aim to take your life. If it was one or two then maybe you could take them but with them all at once, the only choice was to run. Before you can even turn, one moves to throw themself in front of you all. They leap right into action. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it was the move of a fool, but they were confident in their strength and their abilities. After all, they’ve always sought to be an idiot, after all.

They’ll protect everyone’s tomorrows if they must…

The Chupacabra, the goat sucker, the predator famous for turning lambs into prey: Hanji throws themself through the flames into the heat of them with the wild intent to maim, the instinct the leave the sheep bleed where they stand. Swift like a creature of ambush, they swoop in to deliver a mask-cracking punch towards The Fiend with ease, their knuckles heating up from the blow as the cultist is knocked down momentarily.

Another one of them attempts to strike– the Terror– as they come in from the other side, though Hanji quickly repels the attack with a prompt roundhouse-kick to his side. The blade he held in his grip is sent flying into the puddle of blood Jinpachi stood by, skidding across the floor before it stops. Jinpachi’s blank stare didn’t flinch at anything that was occurring. This is just what he wanted from them all. Pure Chaos.

It’s a bit of an unbelievable sight to behold, seeing one person fight against a whole group as though it was something they did for a living, and it was, and it was because they wanted to, because it fell in line with what they wanted, and how they felt.

If wanting to fight for another chance at life was the move of a dumbass, then they don’t mind being one. They wouldn’t mind having to do this again and again, if it meant a chance to create their own path. To protect those who still breathe, and to live to see the infinite tomorrows for those who couldn’t anymore…

As Hanji continues to fight the Saints off, they look over their shoulder towards everyone else– the group they risked their life to protect, and still are– brows furrowed, expression urgent, voice screeching, scratching against the walls of their throat like nails on a chalkboard.

“Th’ fuck’re all yall gawkin’ round fer?!

Go!! Break the fuckin’ door down an’ git outta here!

Git outta here an’ live, god damn it!!! JUST LIVE!!!”

You can fight, you can stay back and risk your life or you can make a break for it. Even if you wanted to fight, the better choice was to get out of here. And so, you all gather and throw yourselves against the door. It was sturdier than it should be, even being able to withstand a punch from Kazuo Hayashi, but with perseverance you will have your freedom. 

There is one however that doesn’t listen, that grips that sharp blade in their pocket. 

As if she were a wolf provoked into defending her pack, Mikazuki charges forward. She remembers practicing before in the village, that she was more suited for speed than strength, so she’s quick when setting her sights on the Cursed. A quick shank-like stab aimed for the ribs and an immediate pull-away, and she hit her target. The Cursed recoils, but unsurprisingly, lets out a heaved laugh as he clutches his new wound.

“I told you your days were numbered, you cock-sucking–" 

She widens her eyes with mild outrage at Hanji forcing her back, lightly hitting Hanji’s shoulder with her free hand in her adrenaline.

”What are you fucking doing?!“

Hanji’s at the very least relieved they’ve pushed her out of the increasing danger, and fortunately, Mikazuki was hitting a brick wall, but that wasn’t Hanji’s concern. They look back up to see the Saints closing in again, and they grip Mikazuki’s shoulders to both protect them, and to address them.

“I didn’t teach ya that shit fer ya t’die here! Y’ve gotten this fuckin’ far, grab yer brother an’ GIT’!”

Mikazuki looks conflicted for a moment, but really, they know Hanji’s right. As much as she wants to stay and fight, more importantly she wants to get Tsuneo out of here alive. 

”…ok, fine! Just–don’t fucking die, dickhead.“

Mikazuki begrudgingly joins the rest in tearing down this door, but not before without the Cursed suddenly stepping towards her, unmasked with a bleeding smile. And they whisper something, something only she can hear, before Hanji plucks him away from Mikazuki and everyone else. He’s thrown away without a fight and collapses unceremoniously; one down, few more to go.

Hanji’s efforts in fending the Saints off don’t show any signs of stopping anytime soon, with every struggle they have, they’re able to knock them back ten times more. Each blow is returned harder than it was received, dodging and parrying with precision and skill and years of training. They push back as much as they can as they try to make their way to you, but in their path, they’re suddenly pulled back by their ponytail by the Devout– a long, ribbony hazard both in flames and combat, giving them a disadvantage.

The remaining standing Saints surround them, one of them having retrieved the disarmed knife from earlier, as they’re seemingly held in place by the hair… before they’re caught pulling on their own hair in an attempt to pull the Devout forward for one nastily planned headbutt. The Terror comes in with the knife once more, but with a calculated strafe, the blade connects with their hair, stretched between Hanji and the Devout stumbling backwards with the locks still in his grip.

And it slices through, freeing Hanji.

The long lock of hair falls to the floor, and it eventually catches light from the gentle licks of the roaring flames around them. Strands they’ve kept for years burning up like memories of the past, but giving them the opportunity to grow in something new. Something fresh. Something to look forward to…

There are grunts of pain, there are coughs from the inhalation of smoke but even through this you will not succumb. You’ve all come too far and you will not let this be the end. Let The Shepherd burn away in this hellfire, and get out! This was your fate, it was in your hands and Jinpachi Otsuka wasn’t going to steal anyone else��s life ever again. 

Near Jinpachi…down by his feet…a hand curls through the puddle of blood…eyes trying to peel themselves open. Fire…surely…they’ve ended up in Hell just like they deserved. But this wasn’t Hell…this was still life…and standing above them…was their everything. And down here with them…was a silver glint smeared with red. 

There was only one way to bring this all to an end…the bloodied hand reaches out…and takes the handle of the knife in their hand…

[loanprovidersworld]

The various approaches to locating the best house loan deals in UAE in 2023 will be covered in this blog. With advice on how to compare interest rates, negotiate conditions, and pick the best lender, we've got you covered whether you're a first-time buyer or wanting to refinance your current mortgage.

Many people are moving to the UAE because of better living standards and opportunities. But if you have moved in here recently, you must be wondering to find a place which you can call Home!  

Home Buying with mortgages and loans is a common strategy for getting a house. Also, it's a great way to get a dream house without worrying about money. However, a house is expensive no matter where you live, and a home loan eases most of the immediate money concerns.

As many people are looking for Best Home Loan Deals, I also want to get one. You need to know these things before buying a house or taking out a mortgage;

Eligibility for a Home Loan in UAE- 

Since a home loan is a major investment in your life, you must know the requirements and conditions before applying for one. It is an important aspect of your finances to consider. When buying a house, apartment, or villa, you need to demonstrate your financial position and the bank statements to show that enough money is available to repay the loan on time if you are willing to buy a house, apartment, or villa.

If you wish to apply for a mortgage in the UAE, you must be an official UAE national or resident. Mortgages are not available to new foreign investors or visitors. You must also be between 21 and 65 years of age.

Also See: Mortgage Finance in UAE

If you're younger or older than the required age, you can qualify for the mortgage or loan per the laws. As a final requirement, the investor should earn a minimum of AED 15K monthly if employed and AED 25K if self-employed.

However, many policies and factors like salary vary from bank to bank for mortgages. Also, for non-residents, loans or mortgages are quite limited! 

Best way to find a Home Loan in UAE - 

Getting the best Home loan deal can be quite complicated. Therefore, you can take help from Real-Estate agencies and brokers to get a perfect guide. It is important to go through every possible type of loan deal to have better sight before making any decision. 

Though there are many broker options, you can consider Finplate to get the Best Home Loans Deals in UAE to get an authentic sight. 

Also See: Mortgage Process in UAE

Though there are many loan calculators online which can help you make a decision. It is important to take opinions and discuss them with your family and friends. 

Although, the real estate market keeps changing and usually can be found higher, at about 5%, which is one reason why variable mortgage rates are another preferred choice for Home Loan candidates. 

Finally, it's almost impossible to predict long-term financial budgets because finances are hard to estimate. Thus, before investing large sums of money into your dream home, it is always wise to consult a professional! 

Check our latest update on Facebook.

[americasmarauders]

umm, hello guys, long time no see.

If it feels like I've been at best absent from here and at worst straight up gone, it's because I've pretty much been those things. I'd like to throw a ready excuse and say 'school's hard, I haven'ts had the time' but althought that's also true, a lot more has happened to me other than just that.

Well, to say it shortly, fandom life has felt like it has run its course for me. I have lost contact with everything that made it feel like a safe community for me. And that comes from several reasons.

Beggining last year, around february, I kinda had a rough patch. I'm sure if you absentmindely followed my #luiza talks posts you'd see that I was kinda (?) involved with a guy that was very much NOT the person for me. He pushed me to do uncomfortable things, say uncomfortable things, and told me very untrue perceptions about myself that wrcked my self-esteem and peace of mind for basically 6 months (which may seem like a short time in the grand scale of things, but while I was going through it, it was the most terrible time of my life, and my life has not been easy). We were never official, and while I can recognize that he may have helped me in some aspects, he definitely destroyed others.

During that same time last year, I was going back for my first in person semester at my uni since 2019. The pandemic was a hard time, but going back to uni after spending 2 years studying at home was much harder than anticipated. I'm an applied physics major, the sciences are usually fields where big egos come to play. I didn't have any luck and I got 2 of the biggest and most assholish egos to teach me for that first semester. I wasn't nowhere near ready for that reality, and I found myself going down a rabbit hole of so much anxiety, there were days I couldn't step foot in the classroom without feeling like the walls were closing in on me. It was bad. JUst straight up bad.

All in all not a good time.

I was feeling disconnected from everything. I burried myself in the only thing that brought me some modicum joy which was, surprinsingly, VALORANT. I felt alone, truly and deeply alone. While that was not a novelty for me, it was so intense, and I felt like no one would truly understand what I was going through. I didn't know how to talk to my friends about it without sounding like I was just some complaining baby, I didn't know how not to find fault at behaviors that I didn't agree with, I didn't know how to deal with anything that wasn't what I thought was right and comfortable for me.

After a particularly bad night (that I woke up crying and didn't stop until my mom urst into my room and took me to her bed to help me calm me down), I went to see a psychiatrist. I got lucky that the first doctor I went to see was the one who truly understood what was going on. She medicated me, and slowly my anxiety subsided. I can say today I'm like 1000000% better. I haven't had an anxiety attack in months. Who would have thought that drugs would be the answer?

The doctor also said: "You know, you say you can't pay attention properly in class, you have rituals and such. I need you to do some neuropsychological tests, okay? Because you could have, adhd, ocd or aed." (AED: autism spectrum disorder).

Hearing from the doctor that I might fit in one of those boxes was a mix of relief and fear. I didn't want to be labeled sick or disordered. But at the same time, if I was, things would make so much more sense. Cut to me spending from september to january going to see 2 psychologists and doing endless of tests, talking about my past, and apologizing everytime I didn't have a witness to corrobate something that I said. My parents didn't stop me from doing the tests, but they didn't exactly agree that something might be wrong with me. For them, every behavior I had displayed since I was a tiny baby was normal. I don't know how many times I said to the therapist "No I don't have any close friends from childhood who can help you understand this about me." "No, I don't have any close relatives that can help you get to know how I was as a kid. They're both dead." "No, I don't think my friends would know how to answer these questions, I'm sorry."

I finally got the diagnosis in february, a year after this whole circus started. I'm autistic. If I had been diagnosed like 15 years earlier, they would have said I have Asperger's Syndrome. Today, I can say I'm just autistic. It made so much sense. The tantrums I threw when something didn't go my way. The tics that I have when I'm nervous. Why I can't make friend easily, and why I just need to sit in the same spot everytime, I just need to. But mostly, why I couldn't be like everyone else.

It lifted a huge guilt that I carried around for not being like others. For not being able to stand loud noises, and strange smells. For not dancing at parties, and not kissing drunken strangers. For felling so little in those places, and leaving so exhausted I just couldn't speak the next day.

But at the same time, it was so cruel to see all that I have been through, because I was autistic. All the bullying, and name calling. Feeling isolated and being mocked because I was sensitive and cried when I didn't get the grade I worked for or for not being heard. All the times I wished someone looked at me and saw more than those things, but they just couldn't. Because they didn't understand and they never would. They'd never respect me, and my boundaries, my quirks and needs.

I'm lucky enough to have my parents, that respect me and feel like everything I do is normal (thank god). I'm so lucky to be with a person that loves me so much, and respects my boundaries, and waits for me, because he knows my time is slower than everyone else's.

And although I still fell isolated, specially know that I've been going through sort of a friend group transition, is so much easier. At least I have these 3 people that get me. Even if I wished I had more, I have them.

Anyway, that's all that has been going on. I'm sorry I kinda abandoned this place. I miss it sometimes, truly. I still lurk around here, but I don't feel like being so active in fandom is in my future anymore. Who knows, maybe another catastrophe will happen and I may come back, but for now this is (sort of) a goodbye from my fandom days.

I hope this finds you well and safe,

Luíza (04/22/2023)

[cinebration]

None Like You (Geralt x Reader) [Request]

hi! can you do a geralt one shot with fem reader where she's a princess and they start falling for each other? tysm! — Request by anon

Warnings: blood

Gif Source: frodo-sam

Your mother had raised you to believe you were someone of importance, but life on the farm had said otherwise. You toiled just like everyone else, bleeding and sweating. You were soiled, not spoiled. Yet your mother insisted you were a princess and told you outrageous bedtime stories to lull you to sleep in your youth.

You should have paid better attention.

When King Henselt’s only son died, leaving only a marriage and no heirs, you woke one morning to the pounding of a mailed fist on the door. Your mother answered and then hurried into your room, fluttering about like a mad woman.

“It’s time,” she cried, shoving you into your best dress and raking her fingers through your hair.

“For what?”

“To be someone.”

Then she bundled you out the door into the arms of a military escort carrying the Kaedwan sigil on their shields and tunics: a red-horned unicorn on a yellow field.

It took you the whole day to finally coax information out of your escort regarding the whole ordeal. When they told you what you were, you nearly fell out of your saddle in disbelief.

The king must be desperate, you thought as you tried to fall asleep beside the campfire.

Then the night turned bloody.

~~

Something crunched underfoot to your right. You huddled deeper in the hollowed tree, clutching the steel in your hands. The edges had sliced open your palms, but you didn’t care. It afforded you some protection, even if the creature had snapped the blade it came from like a twig.

Tensing, you waited for the sound to draw nearer, coiling to spring. It was just like killing chickens, you told yourself. One neat slice to the throat.

You leapt out of the hollow, slashing up and across.

The witcher caught your wrist easily, flinging the steel out of your hand. Stifling a cry, you cradled the injured hand to your chest, backed away from him. His eerie yellow eyes tracked you as you pressed yourself against the tree trunk, searching for an escape.

“What happened?” His voice rasped like feet dragged over gravel.

“Death,” you whispered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the massacre. “Some…thing.”

“It’s dead now.”

You fixed him with a wary glance. “Truly?”

He grunted.

You nearly sank to your knees in relief. Pressing a hand to your mouth, you felt the cuts in your hand spasm. Fresh blood wept from the slashes, trickling down your arms. The witcher swept his gaze over you, eyeing the wounds. You fumbled with the hem of your dress, trying to rip the dirty fabric into strips.

“Did you fight it?” The surprise in the witcher’s voice drew your ear.

You wheezed. “I slashed it, yes, but fight? No.”

Rummaging around in the leaves on the forest floor, the witcher retrieved the broken steel, examined it. He swore.

Unease coiled within you. “What is it?”

“Come here.”

You hesitated. The witcher rolled his eyes and strode over to you, grabbing you by the wrist. His touch was firm but not tight, much to your surprise. You followed after him, feeling a little dizzy as he led you over to the road. A horse stood idly there, kind eyes inquisitive. It didn’t shy away as you drew near despite the smell of blood.

“Good horse,” you murmured, appraising it.

The witcher fumbled through a saddlebag, searching for something. At last he pulled out a vial and took your hands, tearing off the strips to get to your wounds. He poured the grey contents of the vial out before you could protest.

You nearly screamed, the pain in your hands was so excruciating. Lighting shot up your arms as the vial’s contents fizzed on your palms and in your wounds.

“To prevent the venom from killing you,” the witcher explained.

“If the pain doesn’t kill me first,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

A smirk tugged on the witcher’s lips, followed quickly by a frown. “What were you doing traveling with those soldiers?”

You hesitated again. What had you heard about witchers? That they fought for coin and hunted monsters. You had no coin, but neither did you know where you were or how to get home.

“King Henselt sent them,” you confided slowly. “They believe I am his bastard daughter.”

“A princess.”

You elected to ignore the mild groan in the man’s voice. “Can you take me home? The farm, not Aed Carraigh.”

His yellow eyes fixed on you again, white eyebrows beetling together. “You don’t want to go to the castle?”

“Is it safe? As safe as home?”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then take me home,” you insisted. “I’m no princess.”

~~

The witcher smelled. You couldn’t ignore it, not with your face pressed into his back. He wasn’t made for traveling with someone sitting behind him. You could feel it in the tension of his shoulders and back, as though he couldn’t relax beneath the touch of your arms. You did your best to relax your own tense grasp.

You had run nigh over a mile before collapsing in the hollowed tree trunk. The horse covered the distance easily, passing by the smoldering, bloody encampment you had settled down in the night before. You watched it pass, glimpsing the heaps of bodies scattered about.

It took several hours to draw near home. Joy fluttered in your chest as you approached.

You crested the ridge overlooking home and went still, horror rolling through you. The farm house was ash and rubble, still smoking. The animals had been let from their pens, taken for livestock by whatever had rolled through the farm.

“Bandits,” the witcher noted.

Fighting nausea, you wandered down to the burnt house, searching in the ruins. The ash burned your hands and legs, but you sifted through it, yanking aside a crumbling beam.

Beneath lay your mother. What was left of her.

You retched off to the side, stumbling through the ash. You stood bent at the waist for an eternity before you felt the witcher watching you. Turning to face him, you wiped the sick from your chin. “I can’t stay here.”

He frowned.

Your mother had raised a practical woman, fantastic fantasies about your lineage aside. It was all you could think to do as you stood in the ashes of your dead life. One foot in front of the other.

“I have no money,” you confessed, “but if King Henselt sent for me, he can pay you to ensure my arrival.”

The witcher considered it. At last he growled and nodded.

~~

It would take four days to reach Aed Carraigh. The horse—named Roach, you learned—could only manage that distance in a shorter time if not burdened with two riders.

You sat close to the campfire, warming yourself in the flames, shaking not from cold but from fear as the night closed in around you. The night held terrors untold, but until the night before, you had never seen them in the flesh. Knowing they lingered out in the dark set your teeth on edge.

“I’m sorry to burden you,” you told the witcher, the silence too much to bear. You watched the horse warily for signs of attack, knowing the animal was likely to hear or sense it before you.

“Why don’t you want to be a princess?”

Taken aback by the unexpected question, you shrugged. “Why would I want to be one?”

“Riches. A comfortable life.”

“I had a comfortable life with riches untold. They just weren’t gold.”

“Gold is necessary.”

“Gold means nothing if your life is miserable.”

The words hung heavy in the air. The witcher averted his gaze, surprising you. Frowning, you rubbed at your arms, trying to make the hair on your arms stand down. His averted face gave you the opportunity to study his features. They were rough and worn, his brow creased from excessive glowering. He was all hard edges, a larger man than even the largest farmer you had seen. He appeared both comfortable and uncomfortable in his own skin, or perhaps your presence was upsetting him.

“Am I keeping you from work?”

“Are you always so concerned for witchers?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Yet there you sit.”

You bit your tongue, surprised by the sting of his barb. Something flickered across his stern features as you ducked your head. “Then tell me where to go and I will get there myself.”

“The road is dangerous.”

“Being a woman is dangerous.”

He almost smiled in surprise. You could see it dancing on his lips.

“So tell me where to go,” you insisted. “Then I can leave your remarkable hair.”

His eyebrows twitched. The silence stretched between you both for a minute, the fire crackling in the quiet. At last, he said, “I will take you.”

You almost gave away your relief with a sharp exhale.

~~

Though the witcher was a man of few words, you found you were able to read more from his face and the set of his shoulders than from anything he said. His silences were full of information, though you couldn’t be sure of what exactly. You merely knew that he radiated safety as much as he did danger.

“Do you know many princesses?” you asked him.

He grunted.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“I know one or two,” he said. “But none like you.”

You frowned, glancing down at your soiled dress. “Yes, I suppose I’m nothing like one. The people will be overjoyed with a farmer’s daughter.” You snorted.

“I think they could use one.”

Frowning, you glanced up at him. He didn’t quite smile, but the glower on his face had shifted into something softer.

“Well, when I am princess,” you said, “I will remember at least one person believes me suited for the job. That’s all that matters.”

A faint smile touched the witcher’s lips. You matched it with a slow smile of your own.

[schmergo]

I'm not watching the new Sex and the City spinoff, and I never saw the original show, but I've seen enough snarky memes and articles going around about a major event that happened in the first episode, so I thought I'd share a boring PSA! 

This is a little known fact, but about 90% of people who have heart attacks these days SURVIVE them! This was not the case several decades ago and popular media hasn't necessarily caught up to this.

If you're with someone who is showing symptoms of a heart attack, don't panic and assume they're done for, but also don't try to wait and see if they get better on their own-- just act quickly, and you can most likely help save their lives!

I'm obviously not a doctor or a first aid instructor, but I've taken several first aid classes. This is personal to me because I was once present when a stranger had a heart attack in a public place, and I was also there when a family member had a stroke at home (I was a child at the time and was the one who called 911). Both of these people got quick medical treatment within moments of symptoms and survived.

 Time is the most important factor-- the longer you wait, the less likely the patient will recover. Call 911 within 5 minutes or less. I know ambulances are expensive, but don't hem or haw over whether you think it's worth it or not. Immediately call 911 and have the person them sit or lie down and give them an aspirin while you wait for paramedics. You want to make sure the patient is treated within an hour-- they call that first hour the 'Golden Hour' because it's often possible to reverse damage within that hour. Don't drive them to the hospital yourself unless absolutely necessarily. Paramedics are better equipped than you to restart a patient's heart if they lose consciousness during the drive.

If the person falls unconscious and stops breathing, this is sudden cardiac arrest and it's a bigger deal. In this case, start chest compressions. 80% of cardiac arrests happen at home, so it's a really good idea to learn CPR, especially if you know anyone with a history or risk of heart trouble.

 If there's more than one person with you or you're in a public place, ideally one person would call 911, one with first aid experience would stay with the patient and begin chest compressions, and one would find an AED (aka defibrillator). AEDs can be found mounted in cases on walls and are labeled. They give instructions on how to use them, so if you've never used one before, it'll talk you through it. When you start at a new workplace, it's a good idea to make a note of where AEDs are located in case of an emergency-- I once had several panicked conversations with employees at a public place who didn't know where the AED was during an emergency. I found it on my own and the person ended up staying conscious until the paramedics got there.

I won't lie, rates of survival from people who received CPR outside of a hospital are not super high, but they're double or triple the survival rates of people who don't receive CPR.

[cuquitalocita]

i love you yeah yeah yeah |rowaelin month- day 3|

rowaelin masterlist 

an: i’m not gonna lie, i had so so much fun writing this one! i’m a tennis player and my sister is as well, therefore why i know so much about the junior pro league. for those of you who don’t know, the orange bowl is an actual tournament played internationally for juniors and i’m ranting wow so anyway i hope this isn’t too tennis vocab-y :)

word count: 3,876

~~

It’s the final two days before competition at the International Orange Bowl this year being held in Terrasen and it’s no surprise that tensions between players and academies are more than high. We’re so glad to be here for yet another year of thrilling competition in which the winners will automatically be placed into the first round of the U.S. Open. I, for one, and more than excited to see some new teen faces this year, what about you, Gavriel?

You know Cairn, I completely agree and as someone from Terrasen, you must be more than excited to see some friendly competition on your home turf.

Oh, I sure am excited, but I don’t know if you’d call this competition exactly ‘friendly.’ For those of you unaware, the rivalry between the TAT (Tennis Academy of Terrasen) and the DTC (Doranelle Tennis Center) has been going on for close to ten years now, beginning all the way back to when founders Maeve Vesta and Evalin Galathynius were in college, rivals through and through. Now adults, their children carry on their competitive legacy, taking the nation by storm. If you see the final match of any tournament, you can bet your money it’s a Doranelle kid and a Terrasen kid. 

The stakes sure are high during this tournament, as it isn’t closed, like the academies’ usual ones. Instead, anyone player eighteen years old and younger with the qualifying points was eligible to register. I’m looking forward to seeing some new faces this year. 

Me too, but you can never go wrong with the usual suspects. This year, my money is on eighteen year- old Rowan Whitethorn from Doranelle, ranked second in the country, in the men’s finals. As Maeve’s nephew, Rowan has been put in the spotlight for most of his life, not to mention taking a clear leadership role among the DTC alongside Lorcan Salvaterre. 

That’s a good point, Gavriel, in the past years Rowan has made it to at least the quarter-finals but has always lost before he can truly do. I have a feeling the kid has a lot more in him.  And as for the women, I wouldn’t be too surprised to see the Terrasen seventeen year- old cruising through a few rounds before her tough competition starts. We can’t expect anything less than Evalin Galathynius’ daughter, right?

I for one, am more than excited for pre- first-round interviews. It’s always quite interesting to see each players’ mindset before they set out for blood.

~~

“What do you think our favorite golden girl has in store for us this year, Gavriel? Something tells me she’s a little more than annoyed given what happened at the finals of the last international tournament held in Terassen when Remelle Frost from the Doranelle academy beat her in what was the biggest upset of the season.”

Aelin rolled her eyes and glared at the back of her mother’s seat, the woman in question frowning as the annoying voice of Cairn Rossa rang through the rental car. She reached forward to turn the station off just as Gavriel’s voice rang out once more.

“Let’s not beat around the bush here, Cairn,” the older man was responding. “I’ve been doing this just a bit longer than you enough to know when a player isn’t themselves. One loss isn’t the definition of a player the same way one win isn’t either. I suggest both teams- including Aelin and Remelle themselves- step onto the court, and play.” 

Aelin let out a satisfied huff. She knew she had always liked Gavriel. Aelin liked that the man looked at the players as more than just players in a video game or statistics on a screen. As a former player himself, Aelin knew the man understood the game in and out and was more than qualified to report during the national tournaments, no matter where he was born and what side he was essentially placed on. 

The station was snapped off as her mother’s finger found the correct button, earning an annoyed glare from the Uber driver next to her that she promptly ignored in favor of turning back to her daughter, opening her mouth to say something. Aelin’s own eyes stared back at her before shifting down to the phone she held in her hand. It had just buzzed signaling a new notification that had her mother lifting her brows. 

Aelin immediately shifted forward in an attempt to look over her mother’s should before her hand was on her face, batting her daughter away with a motherly ‘leave me alone’ look. She relented, leaning back into her seat with slumped shoulders. Finally, her mother huffed but remained with her back facing Aelin. 

She knew it was different this year, she could practically feel it in the air. Without her father with the two women in the car, the tournament atmosphere was a different universe. 

It was getting dark outside, the sun setting behind them as they drove through the dazzling city. The car came to an abrupt stop in front of the hotel that sent Aelin jerking out of her own thoughts. Her mother turned back to her with a sad knowing smile and patted her daughter’s knee.

“We’re here. Try to get some sleep- you have a long day tomorrow.”

~~

“What’s the plan for today?” Aelin asked her mother around a mouthful of bagel the next morning. It wasn’t every day the founder of the University came to watch her players in a tournament, but whoever won this won would be fed into the first round of an official professional tournament. It would be amazing PR for the academy, Aelin knew, but she also knew her mother felt bad that her father had escorted Aelin to all of her tournaments in prior years. And now that he wasn’t here anymore… 

“Eat up- after you’re done I’ve reserved three courts at the complex and we’ll get together with everyone.” ‘Everyone’ being every other players from the academy who had enough points to enter the qualifiers. Not all of them were as highly ranked as Aelin, but she found it helpful to train with them all the same. They were her friends. “We do need to pick Lysandra up from the airport first though,” she said as she frowned at her phone. “Her flight was supposed to have landed a few minutes ago but she hasn’t reached out…”

Aelin rolled her eyes at her mother, she always did have a thing with protectiveness over her best friend. 

“Mom, don’t worry about it,” Aelin assured her. “Aed said he would pick her up and then meet us at the courts. I wouldn’t want to be in that car if I were you.” She faked a gag, causing her mother to laugh. 

“Alright then. Eat, find your rackets, and take the rental to the courts. It was just delivered this morning. I have some business to finish here at the hotel.” She left Aelin with a kiss to the head. 

~~

It didn’t take long for Aelin to pull up to the familiar yet daunting tennis complex bigger than even the academy, and she pushed the car into park, simply staring for a moment. 

This was it. 

Three years she had come close to winning as the youngest person in history. So close. But this was the year. This was her year. She could do this. She would do this. 

And so Aelin Galathynius pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin as she grabbed her massive tennis bag from the trunk and slung it over her shoulders. The weight was heavy and familiar as she walked through the glass double doors and to the front desk, only to halt in her tracks when she came face to face with a familiar head of silver hair. 

Rowan Whitethorn.

She had quite often mused about how unfair it was that her essential biggest rival was so attractive. It didn’t really make hating him very fair, now did it? But there he stood, green eyes shining and teeth flashing as he snapped something at the young man at the desk. The poor boy looked ready to pee himself and Aelin couldn’t help but release a sharp laugh, causing both Rowan and the blonde next to him to whip around.

Aelin watched as Rowan’s eyes sparked and his mouth curved into a sneer as he took her in from head to toe. She forced herself still and kept her eyes on his face. It was all she could do. Rowan opened his mouth and Aelin prepared her hackles to rise instantly.

“Aelin. Good to see you here.” But it wasn’t Rowan who spoke. No, it was Remelle Frost, her least favorite bottle blonde on the planet that spoke as she curled a possessive hand over Rowan’s bicep. Aelin simply rolled her eyes, never one to beat around the bush. It was common knowledge that the blondes didn’t like each other. And after the Adarlan tournament, Aelin wouldn’t hide her disdain for the girl.

“Wish I could say the same,” she replied dismissively as she shouldered past Rowan and made for the front desk. One charming smile and the boy seemed to handle her much better than Rowan. She gave him her mother’s name, him quickly nodding a confirmation and giving her the court numbers, saying they would be available in just a moment.

She turned around, unsurprised to see Rowan glaring at the back of her head. It had been almost eight years of this rivalry. At least for them. Aelin thought it might’ve been a little ridiculous, considering that it started with her mother and his aunt, but the Doranelle kids just made it so easy to hate them. So easy to want to pound them on and off the court. She wouldn’t apologize for the adrenaline the rivalry provided her with.

Aelin smirked, cocking her hip. “Like what you see?”

“Hardly,” he growled. “Just wondering whether or not you actually came to play this time.” 

Aelin recognized the comment for what it was- a direct jab to the last tournament where she had lost to Remelle. If the comment hadn’t pissed her off so much she would’ve recognized the compliment for what it was. 

“Well, that depends which game you’re talking about, Whitethorn.” Her voice was just teasing enough to annoy him once more, and Aelin’s grin grew. 

“Don’t you have a court to go find?” Remelle cut in from beside Rowan, who had distanced himself from her. Aelin didn’t blame him. She wanted to do the same thing.

“And here I was enjoying our little chat. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, mar sin leat.”

“This isn’t Terrasen,” Remelle hissed. “We say ‘good luck’ here. Gods, you Terrasen kids are pieces of-” 

Someone caught her by the waist as Aelin attempted to throw herself at the girl and she was soon spun around in their arms, coming face to face with her own eyes. Aedion’s were flashing too as his eyes were fixed behind her, no doubt at Rowan. 

“Leave it, Ace, it’s not worth it.” 

“It’s true, princess,” Rowan finally spoke with a sneer. “You’re gonna need those pretty little hands tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you to have an excuse when you get your ass kicked.”  

“Oh, I’ll show you-” 

Aedion dragged her away before she could get another word out, her fists clenched and her teeth bared. She shoved him when he put her down.

“Fucking Doranelle,” Aedion spat under his breath as he shook his head. 

He merely gestured to a figure behind her, causing Aelin to whip around with wide eyes. Shit. Duke Perrington grinned at her through the snake-eyed lens of his camera and gave her a tiny wave as she bared her teeth at him

Perfect. Now it would look like Terrasen had begun a fight before the tournament even began. 

Her mother was going to kill her. 

~~

Aelin felt like the stadium had never been bigger. She had known this year she would be playing where the professionals themselves did, including Maeve and her mother, but never in a million years had it looked so daunting or made her feel so small. 

The tournament had been, well needless to say, easy for Aelin so far. She had breezed through her first few matches, absolutely destroying the poor girls, and her third had been straight sets as well. But now it was the semis. And she would have to face Remelle on center court. It seemed the gods liked playing jokes on Aelin Galathynius. 

She could feel every pair of eyes snap to hers the moment she stepped onto the court but she looked forward. Maybe she was a crowd favorite- but that would do her no favors in the upcoming match. Aelin thought she was going to hurl all over her new shoes and she let the deafening cheering of the audience cover the sound of her pounding heart. 

Remelle walked in not long after she and Aelin met her in the middle of the court, racket in hand. Showtime. 

Aelin might have been paying attention when the coin had been flipped, might have been minimally involved when she called heads or when she won the call and opted to serve first. She might have been only slightly aware of her surroundings as she took a small sip of her water and walked to the back of the court. 

And then it was movement.

It was backward and forwards, side to side, low and high, and it was the same dance Aelin knew better than anything. The same feeling in her feet when she sprinted to the ball and the same stretch of muscles when she reached for a shot. This was who she was- this was the pattern she had lived for ten years. 

But it didn’t seem to matter, not as the score continued to tip less and less in her favor with every passing point. She was playing well- but Remelle was playing better. And there was nothing Aelin could do but survive and ignore the satisfied smirks the other girl would throw her during their side changes. 

Think, Aelin, think. 

Nothing was coming to her head. All she could hear was the pounding adrenaline through her body telling her to play. To cross each bridge when she came to it. There was nothing more she could do than play.

It was then, when Aelin threw herself at a particularly difficult ball, that she felt something shift. And she knew she was screwed. 

Aelin was a tennis player- she had rolled her ankle before. But this was different. It had never hurt this bad. And as the rest of her body came down with her ankle, she thought that it could be it. That it was the end of the match all due to a stupid ankle injury. 

With her heart in her throat, Aelin signaled to the red- headed umpire. 

Injury, she mouthed to her, and the woman- Ansel, it seemed her name was- simply nodded. She was in the massive locker room without a second thought, dragging out a spare bucket of ice held in one of the corners of the room and shoved her foot it. Might as well get it over with.

Aelin winced as the ice on her foot began to take effect and her muscles began to ache, her breathing beginning to lose its consistency. Gods, she hated this. She hated the useless feeling that came over her at the thought of possibly being unable to finish the match. At the thought of all the people, she would be letting down. 

She was tired. Aelin was so, so tired.

Gods, she just needed-

The door to the locker room burst open with a loud and abrupt clang, causing Aelin to jerk forward, spilling water on the ground as she opened her mouth. She was ready to tell them that she needed some privacy before her eyes locked onto a familiar figure that sent her heart pounding for a different reason. 

“Rowan, you can’t be in here!” 

The hulking boy ignored her protests, striding over her in no more than a few steps, both of his hands immediately going to the base of her neck to search her gaze with his own worried one, clearly not caring that he was in the girl’s locker room and would be kicked out of the tournament if he was found. 

“Are you alright?” he insisted, his voice low and hoarse, forest eyes intense.

The gentleness in which he touched her had Aelin sighing and her hands reached up to lightly take hold of his wrists, bringing them down and gathering them in her own hands to hold to her chest. 

She hadn’t meant to fall for Rowan Whitethorn.

But like everything in her life, it had happened quickly and unexpectedly, and Aelin had dealt with it head-on. It had been a year now. An entire year of playing tournaments in each other’s home’s just so they could see each other. Just so no suspicion was be aroused by the tabloids. 

And Aelin hated it. 

All she wanted to do was be able to link her hand through Rowan’s in public without causing a public scandal about a decade-long rivalry. 

“I’m okay, you fussy buzzard,” she teased as she looked at him, pleased to see when the frown on his lips twitched the slightest bit upward. “It was just a little fall. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

But because he knew her so well, he had heard the uncertainty and fear in her voice as she spoke. So saying nothing, he pulled Aelin to his chest and allowed his arms to wrap around her completely, enveloping her in the scent that she had considered home for months.

And as she breathed him in, she wished home wasn’t always so godsdamned far. 

Rowan let her breathe shakily into his chest, constantly running a soothing hand up and down her back as he hummed a small melody that he often did to get her to sleep over the phone at night. Aelin was the first person to admit it was much better in person.

“You don’t have to do it, Aelin,” he said finally, his movements never ceasing. “You don’t owe them anything.” 

She knew who he was referring to of course, of the people who had come to watch the new ‘upcoming star’ in action and were expecting to see quite the show. They were the people Aelin had been trained to want to impress. 

Aelin pulled back to tilt her chin up and look him in the eyes. 

“I can’t just quit, Rowan. I won’t.”

“You have nothing to prove, Fireheart.” And Aelin almost broke as he used the nickname her father had. “Not to anyone.” 

She shook her head, helplessness seeping through her body more and more as she looked at the boy in front of her. The pain in her ankle was even worse now. Unsurprisingly, he noticed, and his calloused hands moved to her wrists as he lead her back over to the bucket of ice water.

He kneeled down in front of the bench as she sat down and placed her foot in the water, wincing along with her even after she threw a glare at him.

I don’t see you with a foot in ice.

Seeing you in pain is enough to hurt me, his eyes gazed back playfully. Aelin rolled her eyes, quickly shutting them as another shock of pain rushed through her body, making her inhale sharply. 

Her boyfriend frowned once more, clearly upset he could do nothing to help her. So he gathered her hands in his own, bringing them to his face to place a gentle kiss on them, pulling an unwitting smile from Aelin. 

“I love you,” she said quietly. Rowan met her soft gaze for a moment before Aelin leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers in a kiss she hoped said everything she couldn’t. Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you. I wish we weren’t a secret. 

“I love you too, Fireheart.” 

She would never get sick of hearing him say that. Of hearing the utter truth in his words. 

Rowan was watching her with that adoring look he reserved only for her, his face open so she could see every emotion playing across his face. It only made her want to kiss him again.

So she did, although this time he met her halfway, taking her chin lightly between two fingers and tilting it up so he could kiss her thoroughly as her hands rested at the base of his neck, lightly twirling the pieces of soft hair she found there.

They sat there for a while, simply kissing, enjoying the feeling of each other’s lips and proximity when it was so few and far between, and Aelin relished in the feeling of loving someone who loved her back. In the feeling of not having to act. 

When she accidentally tugged at a knot in his hair, Rowan pulled away with a painful groan and a nip to her bottom lip, causing Aelin to laugh and push his cheek away with two fingers.

“Sorry, Buzzard,” she laughed as Rowan stood up, with a playful glare. He folded his arms in front of him and it was only then that Aelin remembered she had a foot inside of a bucket of ice. And her medical time out was running out. “Shit. I have to go.” 

Aelin jumped into action, taking her foot out of the ice with a hiss and grabbing a towel as Rowan maneuvered himself around her to find her shoes and socks. Apparently he had understood her message loud and clear about her intentions on forfeiting the match or not- he wasn’t stupid enough to argue with her.

Quickly enough, Aelin was good as new- well, as new as she could be with a half swollen ankle.

“Well,” she dropped her arms to her sides and turned to her boyfriend. “How do I look?”

“Like an idiot who shouldn’t be playing.”

“Or…?” she arched a brow. Rowan sighed and stepped toward her, his hands bracing both of her arms as he leaned forward to press an earnest kiss to her forehead. 

“Or Terrasen’s champion,” he murmured against her skin. 

Aelin grinned, a wicked and feral smile that meant she was ready to raise hell.

“Now that’s more like it.” 

~~

If someone had asked Aelin to regale the crowd with details of her match after she had come out victorious, she would have been unable to do so. Because all she remembered was the pounding of her feet on the ground, and the neon color of the tennis ball, and the feeling of her heart palpitating in her chest. 

Oh, and of course she couldn’t forget the moment after her match- winning shot, when every care and inhibition had left her in one foul swoop. When she had sprinted over to the stands and thrown herself into the arms of the silver- haired enemy, delighting in his deep laughter.. 

And kissed him in the middle of the stadium for all to see.

~~

this prompt was: secret dating 

taglist:

@story-scribbler

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@claralady

@surielandiareendgame

[charming-charlie]

Washed Away

Title // Washed Away

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Panic attacks sort of. This chapter is mostly clean.

Summary // Who knew hanging out with Buck and Christopher for a day would lead to a life or death situation?

Word Count // 1.5k

Prompt // Hi! Can i request a fic where you were with Buck & Christopher when the tsunami hit? They could be dating or crushing on each other. If nothing comes to mind, then it’s completely fine to ignore this request! Have a nice day!’

Author’s Note // This is Part 1 of the Washed Away series. || Part 2 || Part 3

It was a beautiful day at the pier. Crowded, yet beautiful. Carnival music was playing in every direction. The smell of funnel cakes, cotton candy, and popcorn wafted through the air. There was laughing, screaming, and merriment everywhere you looked.

You had to give Evan Buckley credit. He sure knew how to pick a good first date spot.

Okay, so maybe date was pushing it a little bit. You have known the guy for a while now, but that’s mostly because of Christopher. You are the nurse at Christopher’s school. It’s how you met Buck. When Christopher is ill, or perhaps has an incident where he needs to go home, sometimes Buck picks him up. He was, after all, one of the few people Eddie Diaz trusted around his son. Since Buck quit the LAFD and Eddie was working constantly to pick up the extra work, Christopher was often in Evan Buckley’s care.

And my goodness, what a charmer Evan Buckley turned out to be.

Buck and Christopher finished riding Shark Frenzy, a ride that reminded you of the teacups at Disney World. They met up with you at a blue picnic table, where you had cotton candy ready for the boys.

Buck took the blue one. “B for Buck, B for blue.”

Christopher took the pink one and dived right into it, giggling and enjoying himself.

“Mmm,” Christopher said with a satisfying smile. Pink floss was stuck to his fingers, but he paid no mind to it.

“Good?” Buck asked, and the little boy nodded. Buck went to snatch a piece, but Christopher pulled back with a laugh. It was kind of adorable to see.

“Where to next?” you asked as you looked around. In every direction, there were amusement park rides everywhere.

“Let’s take a break and play some games,” Buck said as he flashed you a charming smile.

The three of you cleaned up the table, with Buck tossing everything in the trash. You were on one side of Christopher and Buck was on the other, with the little boy using his crutches in between. Slowly, the three of you made your way to the arcade row on the pier. Games were lined up one right after another and Christopher pointed to a water gun shooting game.

“I want to play that,” he said, and Buck complied to his wishes.

You insisted on paying for a round or two, with Buck being out of a job and all, but the handsome ex-firefighter swatted your hand away and plopped two dollars on the table.

“Two rounds,” Buck told the person in charge.

“You are so stubborn,” you retorted as you pocketed your money.

Buck only smiled and sat down. He pulled Christopher into his lap and together, they began round one.

Christopher held the trigger and Buck controlled the aiming. The object of the game was to shoot a stream of water at a small target which will raise a platform. The first person whose platform reaches the top wins.

Together, they were invested. Honestly, you were watching from the sidelines and you thought for sure they had some kind of strategy planned out beforehand.

“I am so proud of you right now, I cannot be more proud of you. Come on, we’re so close! So close!” Buck was telling Christopher as their little platform was rising more and more with each passing second. Christopher was smiling the entire time, and when the bell rang, both boys acted like it was the greatest moment of their lives. They screamed and cheered, and celebrated their win.

“You did it! Come on, high five!” Buck said as he held his hand out.

Christopher slapped it as hard as he could, and Buck over-exaggerated the little boy’s strength and flailed backwards.

However, the sound of a siren interrupted the fun and games and Buck immediately turned. He was looking past you, over your shoulder. Slowly, he stood up, his eyes never leaving what was happening behind you. Curiosity got the better of you and you turned to see what the man was looking at.

“And we have a winner!” the man running the water gun booth said in the background, handing a giant brown teddy bear to Christopher.

But the two of you paid no mind to that as an ambulance rolled up through the crowd.

A person in some kind of dinosaur costume collapsed. Buck was inching closer to the scene, and you grabbed him by the arm to hold him in place. He looked down at your hand, which was around his bicep and his eyes traced your arm up to you.

“The paramedics got this,” you whispered to him and he nodded, looking defeated and a bit sad.

It broke your heart.

At school, when Christopher would see you, he would always go on and on about Buck and firefighting. Buck had such a passion for his job and to not have it at the moment must be soul-crushing.

“Buck!” Christopher said behind the two of you, “Buck!”

The paramedics shocked their patient with an AED and you could feel Buck exhale. He was holding his breath the entire time. You pulled him back and he turned to face you with a forced smile. While he would never admit it, he was so grateful you were there.

“Come on, you two. Let’s go sit down and take a break,” you said as you handed Christopher his crutches and abandoning the second round of the water gun game. The three of you found an empty bench at the edge of the pier and sat down. Christopher wanted to look out at the ocean, so Buck picked him up and helped him stand on the bench. Gripping the back of Christopher’s shirt tightly so that the boy doesn’t fall in, Buck sat down, and you sat next to him. There was silence for a little bit and you looked over at Buck, who seemed deep in thought.

“Ever think about what you wanna do with your life?” Buck asked, “What you want to be when you grow up?”

“Astronaut or a pirate,” Christopher answered instantly. It was like he didn’t even need to think about it.

Buck nodded in agreement. “Some good choices. Cool outfits too.”

“No wait,” Christopher said with a smile, “a firefighter.”

Of course, it made sense. His father was a firefighter and Buck used to be one. Growing up in that field and being around that environment made such an impression on Christopher.

Buck only chuckled and nodded a little to accept Christopher’s answer. He clenched his jaw, wanting to clearly move on from the topic. “What about you, Y/N? Was nursing what you always wanted to do?”

You turned to look at him, a little confused by the question. No one ever asked you that before. Everyone just assumed nursing was your passion, considering the overwhelming amount of schooling you need to become one.

“Yes,” you said with a nod, “I like helping others.”

Buck grinned and turned his head to look at you. He knew all about helping others. It was one of the many reasons the two of you relate so well with each other. Slowly, his hand was creeping off to the side, getting closer and closer to yours without trying to seem obvious. You didn’t even realize until his pinky finger was brushing the back of your hand.

“Yeah, me too.” Buck’s pinky linked through your own and you could swear that your heart fluttered as he touched you. Could it be? Did Evan Buckley have a little crush on you? Did you have a crush on Evan Buckley? Was this really happening?

He was gazing into your eyes and…wait a minute, was he leaning in? Should you lean in too? Not going to lie, you wanted to. And… there goes your head, getting closer and closer to his.

But he stopped. He looked alarmed, shocked even, and turned his head to look out at the ocean. You slumped back with a slight pout, knowing it was too good to be true. It was stupid to have a little crush on Buck.

The ex-firefighter was gripping onto Christopher’s shirt tightly as he stood up, your pinkies unlocking, and you could tell instantly that something was very wrong. You stood up too and looked at Buck.

He held onto Christopher as a crowd of people were gathering behind you, watching was well. Everyone seemed to stop in their tracks and stare at the ocean.

“What’s wrong?” you asked as you followed his line of sight out to the ocean.

But the answer was right there in front of you. The water had pulled back drastically.

“Where did all the water go?” Christopher asked, looking confused.

Panic was slowly rising inside of you as you stood next to Buck. You felt his hand slip into yours, holding your fingers tightly in a grip. You clung back onto him with your other hand wrapping around his arm tightly.

A warning siren blasted through the loudspeakers in place of the fun carnival music.

A giant wave was rolling back, taking in as much water as it could possibly carry. Your panic turned into fear as you saw the wave approach the shore. A massive tsunami was about to hit and you, along with Buck and Christopher, were trapped on the pier.

[bloodandbandages]

Ryan: Solitary & Scars

Follows Bitten

Prompt from @whumptober2021 days 16 and 20

CW: EXPLICIT SELF HARM. Please Please please heed this warning, I don't want to trigger anyone. If you want to read the piece, message me and I will send you a version without the references to SH. Please stay safe everybody. A smaller mention of suicide, only as a way to escape other pain, mention of alcohol and getting drunk (all past shit) and Bad Parents (mentioned, not depicted)

Taglist: @ashintheairlikesnow @boxboysandotherwhump @jdfreads @rosesareviolentlyread @what-a-whump @whump-tr0pes @evermetnotforgotten @card-games-and-pain (please let me know if you liked to be taken off or added!)

Ryan wakes with a migraine, a fuzzy memory of the night before and a bite in their neck. 

It's enough to make them question where they are, it feels almost identical to a hangover. Their head pounds, mimicking their heartbeat and their tongue feels heavy and dry in their mouth.

They feel a bit cheated honestly, and laugh a bit ironically at that. 

What they wouldn’t give for a night of shitty alcohol and shittier food, where they'd regret it by the bottom of the glass but the memories they'd make were well worth it.

Ryan had never much liked the sensation of being drunk. They always spiraled out of control too fast and everything became fuzzy at the edges. 

They weren't much fun at parties, at least according to their friends. Max would call them a goddamn lightweight good-naturedly but no one really enjoyed having to look after them, particularly with how soon they were lying face down on the floor asking to go home.

They hadn't particularly cared for the vulnerability of it either. Vulnerability required trust and Ryan didn't even trust themself let alone their friends or complete fucking strangers. 

Ryan was absolutely lost. Ever since they'd been bitten and drugged and Aed had been dragged upstairs, they had no more sense of time.

It had been days right? They were sleeping so much it was hard to tell. They still got food but it felt so random,  it could have been three times a day or once every three days.

They didn't mind it so much. Perhaps it would be better to starve themselves anyway, try and claim a bit of dignity before all that was afforded them was gone. Dying of starvation certainly sounded better than dying of these fucking wings everyone had such a hard-on for.

Then again, food was the only real entertainment they got these days. They'd finally explored the whole basement only to find it wasn’t creepy so much as it was grimy, dull and cold. The most exciting discovery they'd made was a bathroom that someone had undoubtedly been murdered in. Least they had running water and a place to piss. 

They weren't restrained, just kept in the dark, and that told them the doctor wasn't afraid of them escaping or hiding. Lord knows the basement wasn't his home base, he'd never even go all the way down the stairs, so it wasn't that he was so sure of the basement he'd know where they might hide. That left them with cameras. There must be cameras down here, that's why the doctor could always find them and let them have this relative freedom. Give them the illusion of it, so they'd get complacent.

They'd searched for the cameras then, hoping to find a blindspot or anything useful, but they couldn't find them. They checked everywhere, looking for a little blinking light or movement or anything but they came up empty. They were still sure they were being watched, but the evidence was concealed well.

They tried to shrug off the defeat. The ceilings were high enough that even knowing where the cameras were wouldn’t have made much of a difference unless they grew another two feet or so.

And they weren't planning on running either way. They had a year left, tops and not much to do with it.

Suppose they got out. They worked for the fucking facility that held them. Their only friends were their fellow employees. They were miles away from what used to be their family and it didn't really matter because they weren't family any more.

It hadn’t been a dramatic confrontation or even unamicable. Their plan had always been to leave at eighteen once their parents knew, they hadn't made any effort to stop it. 

It had been transactional really. They'd been the kid their parents had wanted for eighteen years and in return they'd gotten their needs met. Now they weren't that kid and they didn't ask anything of their parents. 

They hadn't fully cut off contact either. Once they were settled, they'd bought a phone and texted their mom and their dad. They weren't coming back and their parents didn't want them back but they held no real aminosity either. 

Will they be mourned, a year from now? Will anyone care enough to mourn them?

They push themself away from dwelling on all that shit. They turned themself in, they made this bed and they deserved to lie in it.

They tell themself it's stupid to dwell on something so inevitable but they can't quite push the thought away of how useless they are and have been, how they've done fucking nothing with their time on earth and now it's almost up-

Their hands close on a shard of glass. 

They'd found it earlier and set it aside, saying they'd use it if they needed it. They aren't quite sure what that meant, whether they'd use it on themself or someone else but they had a different use for it now.

They can still trace the raised scars encircling their wrists, all uneven and jagged. They're silvery now, finally allowed to heal. Before they'd lost everything, they'd been clean

It's hard to do more than scratch at first. The glass isn't meant to cut anything and it's impossible to get a good grip on it. 

They used to be able to make a game of it, seeing how long it would take to make their whole wrist slick with blood. With their dull pocket knife, it took practice, a skill they'd honed down to an artform. 

Once they'd gotten a better one, it had gone the opposite direction. A couple of times they'd cut too deep and had panicked, resorting to just taping themself up and hoping for the best.

They finally draw blood and they get into the rhythm of it. The gentle throbbing sting and pulse of beaded blood are like old friends, familiar amongst an alien existence they've been forced into.

It's soothing in a way, taking out the stress and hopelessness on something, finally being in control of one damn part of their life and-

There's a flash of light at the top of the stairs.

Aed is back.

[athenadione]

Prompt #88 with Jayrae, with Raven as the person who got hurt. Pretty please?

Muahaha *cracks knuckles* don’t mind if I do. Thanks for the prompt anon! It fed my angsty soul. (Also, sorry all for the hiatus in updates. Life is... hard).

‘Toxic Vengeance’

Pairing: JayRae Words: 2,296 Rated: M - Warnings for cuss words, graphic scenes of violence, and major angst. 

When the knife slashes her thigh, it instantly feels like it’s on fire. 

With a hiss, she draws back. 

It’s as if someone pressed a red-hot branding iron to her leg, then twisted it deeper into the marred flesh for good measure—but instead of dulling, the burning sensation is growing at an alarming rate, spiraling up her entire leg. 

Another hooded figure dashes from her right, and with a wave of power she forces them back with a glittery black claw. They hit the nearest brick building with a thud. Another jumps from above to replace them, and she throws up a shield with her other hand, halting the strike of their sword in mid-air. More are filling the alley, coming from the shadows. The burning in her leg is now more of an afterthought as her adrenaline spikes.

I need to end this now. “Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos.” 

Her power flares, and strikes through the figure, sending it back, along with the others in one large surge. There’s a series of grunts, followed by the clattering of weapons, before all she can hear is her own harsh breathing and blood from her heartbeat rushing in her ears. 

Amethyst orbs search the alley with skepticism, expecting another cohort to flood the street. Another minute of scouring, then she releases a breath when she’s certain it’s over. 

The attack had happened the second she turned the corner to investigate the stain of dark magic covering the adjacent building. She had been following whispered rumors of a rising national occult for weeks, eventually leading her to Crime Alley of all places.  

A groan escapes one of the men. Her attention shifts to see him lying slumped against the wall, hood fallen. His face is covered in old ancient markings, confirming both the reasons for her suspicion and dread. 

The marks of Scath. It appears her father’s followers are growing in power. Now, she needs to find out why—and who is behind it. They know who I am and purposefully drew me out here. This is more than I anticipated.

Is their leader someone I know? Maybe Blood? 

As the adrenaline begins to flow out of her body, she becomes keenly aware of the burning pain that’s replacing it. When the burning in her thigh flows down to her toes and up the side of her body, she realizes that her heart rate hasn’t slowed and neither has her breathing. 

Glancing down at her leg, she curses at the blood flowing freely from the wound. It’s deep, and is now starting to bubble. A bright red streak grows across her leg—a clear sign of inflammation. 

Poison. It’s not one that she recognizes—nor is it one that her demon-half can expel. 

Not good. 

Once the severity of her situation sets in, so does her panic, and she stumbles when another flare of pain sends her head spinning. She staggers over to the brick wall, laying one arm against her forehead. It’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

It’s too late to call Nightwing or Batman; They wouldn’t be able to make it in time, and she doesn’t know if she has the capacity to transport herself to the cave. 

There’s only a handful of other people she trusts that knows more than just the basics of toxicology. 

Black specks dance along her vision and she tries to blink them back, shaking her head with considerable effort. 

There’s only one other option.

With the last of her failing strength, her eyes blind an iridescent white, and inky black tendrils snake around her, enveloping her into its depths. 

A moment later they release her and she stumbles across the threshold into a musty apartment. It doesn’t help that it’s completely dark, and the pound of her heart now seems louder than before.

Somewhere within the confines someone curses loud.

Her thoughts are becoming more clouded, and it’s getting harder to breathe. There’s a growing fervency to keep walking, and she does, intent to find him. 

A heat sizzles over her skin, heightening at her thigh. 

She whimpers, and her knees buckle—legs no longer able to support her weight. She’s so out of it she doesn’t even brace for the ground. 

He catches her before she hits.

“Jesus Christ, Raven. What happened to you?” His breath tickles her ear, and she shivers—though from his voice or her wound she’s not sure.

“Ambush. Poison.” She gasps through another wave of burning pain that shoots all the way up to her chest. 

Another curse and she’s being lowered against his door as fingers begin to ghost over her body. 

“Where? What kind?” He finds the wound and bright emerald eyes flare as they meet her. They swirl and morph into one before her eyes, and she blinks, swallowing back a sudden wave of nausea. 

“Alley…knife…I don’t know. I’ve never… ” she trails off, barely getting the words out as her shortness of breath increases.

“Fuck. Fuck,” an arm presses her shoulder back when she begins to slump over. “You cannot pass out on me princess. I need you to stay awake.” 

“Sorry,” she says, slurring her words. She’s growing exceedingly dizzy and her vision is blurring faster. She can’t get enough air to breathe. 

Something jars her. “Raven, stay with me.” 

Her heart feels like it’s going to tear and claw its way out of her chest, and for a moment she thinks it is. 

It beats faster, and faster, and faster.

“Rae, open your eyes. Look at me.” 

But then it stops. 

“Raven.” 

And all she knows is darkness. 

.

“Stand by. Preparing to shock.” 

There’s a loud, involuntary gasp, and a charging whine. 

“Shit. I swear to God you better not fucking die on me Rae.” 

.

“Evaluating heart rhythm… no shock advised. Continue CPR.”

The sound of pumping compressions fills the air. Green eyes glow as they glare at her prone figure.

“Breathe Goddammit!”

When he bites his lip, it’s hard enough to draw blood, but at least he managed to blink back the sudden, unbidden tears that had formed at the corners of his eyes.

He tries not to shake his hands when he hears her sternum crack underneath the heel of his palm. 

. 

“What are you doing on this com-line Hood?” The growl in his ear is laced with caution, and he can’t blame him. At least he answered. 

He gets to the point fast. “It’s Raven, she was poisoned. I don’t know what it is, but I think it’s systemic,” he pauses as the voice in his ear curses. “She’s coding Nightwing, get someone to my apartment now.” 

There’s another tense pause as Dick listens to Jason’s sharp exhales coinciding with his compressions. 

“Where?” 

“The one closest to the Alley, on 3rd.”

“Z will come teleport us. AED?” 

Jason stops and sits back on his haunches as the defilibrator analyzes again. The machine’s response only heightens his fear. 

“No shock. Continuing CPR, it’s been a few minutes,” he swallows thick as he checks her carotid pulse again. Nothing. “I’m losing her godammit, hurry the fuck up.” 

“On our way.”

He immediately cuts the transmission to focus on his task.

One, two, three, four, five...

.

He doesn’t know how much longer he’s been counting to thirty, just that he’s done it over and over. 

A cacophony of motion behind him almost interrupts his concentration. Someone places a gloved hand on his shoulder with urgency. 

“She needs to be transported to the Watchtower as soon as possible.” 

Lips press together firmly, then he nods. Allowing Zatanna to intervene, she envelopes the empath in her magic. They leave the AED pads attached. 

In seconds, they’re gone. Then the others turn to follow. 

“I’m going with her.” 

Nightwing stills, eyes flicking to Batman.

The resounding silence is near palpable. Nightwing takes a tentative step forward, breaking it. 

“Little wing… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

Fluorescent eyes shine with stone-cold defiance.

“You can’t stop me.”

Batman grunts—the closest thing he’ll ever get to an affirmation. It’s a sizable achievement, but he doesn’t feel victorious at all. 

She’s still in cardiac arrest, but if anyone can help her it’s Zatanna. 

And if there’s anyone that can overcome something like this it’d be her. 

Come on princess, come back to me. 

.

She codes three more times in the medbay. The crash team hovers as everyone else tirelessly searches for the right antidote. 

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

While he watches her Nightwing briefs him on her mission. He listens. It’s a distraction. Then white hot anger licks and gnashes up his chest to his throat with each word until he’s fisting his hands tight to hide the tremors. 

“... I thought it might be Blood but assassins and poison isn’t really his style. Do you think the League could have something to do with this?” Nightwing asks beside him.

His response is slow and level, revealing no hint of the turbulence of emotion that lies underneath, “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” 

Nightwing gives him a pensive stare, but says nothing. 

Jason narrows his eyes. 

Dead. They’re all fucking dead. 

.

They’re able to create one an hour later. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to see someone breathe. 

He waits until she’s stable before slipping away. The teleporter still recognizes him as Robin, and he’s not sure what to think about that when he steps onto the platform. 

Batman gives him a look that he acknowledges as both a warning and a threat; But why should he care? He lost respect for that man a long time ago, and doesn’t give two shits what he thinks.

Unlike Bruce, he’s not afraid to avenge those he cares about most through whatever means necessary.

.

A piercing cry follows the crack of snapping bone. Another finger, broken. That leaves seven more, and I’ve got all fucking night. 

“I won’t ask again,” comes a growl, “I want answers.”

The man’s panting is interrupted by a swift kick to the gut. He bends over with a groan, before he glares up at the Red Hood through one eye. The other is swollen shut. 

“Why would I tell you? You’re just going to kill me anyway.” 

Hood hums, cocking his gun. “True, but it’ll hurt wayyy less if you do.” 

The man spits at his boots, a mixture of saliva and blood. “Good luck. I won’t talk.” 

A malicious grin grows from underneath Hood’s mask. 

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t need it.” 

.

The hallway is empty, save for him and Nightwing.

Really it’s just a perfect place for a one-on-one scolding—and his brother clearly decides to take advantage of it.

“You shouldn’t have done that. He will retaliate. This is Ra’s we’re talking about.” 

Jason’s jaw clenches tight. 

“Who knows how many supporters he’s managed to convince that Trigon can fix all of their worldly problems? He could call on all of them at any given moment.” 

He bares his teeth. 

“You’ve made a mess, Hood. It’s going to take months to clean up what you did.” 

He can’t stand it anymore. “Are you shitting me? I did you all a fucking favor,” he points a finger in Richard’s chest. “I found out more information in an hour investigating my way than you all did in weeks. If you’re not happy with my methods then do a better goddamned job covering your teammates.” He nearly chokes on that last word, attention drifting to the unmoving woman in the room across from them. 

Dick’s eyes follow and widen, then narrow just as fast, and he crosses his arms. 

“You love her.” 

He should have known Richard would figure it out. Why even try to fucking deny it anymore?

“Yeah,” he winces when his voice comes out raw. “I do.” 

Dick raises a brow, unapologetic. “She’s not going to like what you did either.”

Jason doesn’t have the decency to look ashamed. 

“I know.”

He wonders if she would have done the same.

.

“The antidote stopped any further damage, but she remains comatose. We’ve deduced that her body’s gone into a healing trance to mend herself internally. There’s nothing else we can do but wait and continue to monitor.” 

He stares at her porcelain face, no longer resisting the urge to tuck a stray lock of indigo behind her ear. Even at rest her brows are furrowed—like she knows what’s coming.

He waits until he can no longer hear Zatanna’s echoing steps to draw closer to her, breathing in her familiar scent of incense and old books. It’s a welcome change from the sterile smell of antiseptic. 

“You’re really taking your time huh, sunshine? How rude of you, leaving me with these assholes,” he fingers another strand of hair before releasing it with a sigh. 

“You scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again.” He gives her a mock glare, half-expecting her to glower back. When she doesn’t he swallows, and takes another breath. 

“There’s one more thing I need to do… and I know you’re going to hate it, but I’m going to do it anyway.” He imagines pools of lavender, ablaze with fire, and a mouth already poised to argue with a vehemence that makes him smile in the present. 

“I won’t be able to come back here after I finish, and I’m sorry I won’t be there when you wake up,” he takes her hand and squeezes. “But I’m not sorry for what I’m about to do.” 

The incessant beeping of the machines she’s hooked up to is his only response. 

He lowers his face, and brushes his lips against the crown of her head. 

“I love you.” 

Walking away from her is hard, and he almost turns back.

But he doesn’t.

[shyvioletcat]

for striking matches au: "It looks like you have more fun with them than with me."

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Here’s a little bit of Firefighter fun for your day.

Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

Rowan sat slumped on the couch, arms crossed across his chest as he waited for Aelin to finish getting ready. It had taken him minutes to get ready, with his dark jeans and button up white shirt, a pair of lensless glasses frames tucked into the chest pocket. They were going to a Halloween party at Aedion and Lysandra’s place, and very honestly, Rowan didn’t want to go.

He and Aelin had only been going out for just a little over a month and he had met her family and friends a few times, but they definitely weren’t his friends yet. He knew what would happen tonight once they got to the party, and he would be left with two choices. One, he could follow Aelin around the whole night as she lit up the room and thrived on all the social interactions. Or two, he’d sit in a corner with a beer and watch. Considering that he’d just come off a hard shift, Rowan was feeling more inclined to do the second. The subject of him staying behind had been broached but Aelin wasn’t having it. She said it would ruin their ‘matching’ costumes and added that her friends wanted to spend more time with him. So of course Rowan relented for her. Only her.

“Alright, ready,” Aelin sang as she appeared from her bedroom. She was wearing a long black coat and a pair of black boots, her golden hair in soft waves with the ends chalked a vibrant red.

“You’re wearing that?” Rowan asked, not bothering to get up yet.

Aelin grinned at him. “No, I”m wearing this.”

She opened her jacket to show him what was underneath, and Rowan felt his eyes go wide. Aelin had decided on their costumes, they were going to the party dressed as each other professions. Rowan’s costume had been all too easy to put together, all he had to buy was a pair of cheap glasses from the discount store and pop the lenses out. Aelin had bought the entirety of hers new, unless by some design of fate she had this firefighter costume lying around. But Rowan seriously doubted that.

His eyes started at the black boots she wore – and maybe he had seen those before – but her long legs were mostly bare except for a small pair of black shorts with a trim of red on the legs and a yellow belt. A strip of her stomach was bare as well, the shirt hugged her waist and upper torso, and zip ran up the middle instead of buttons, leaving it open in a deep V as it precariously contained her cleavage. It was all topped off with a pair of suspenders that she had her thumbs hooked under as she still grinned at him.

“So, what do you think? Reckon Lorcan would let me join the team?”

Rowan blinked once before he managed to look up her face. The neckline was proving more of a distraction the longer he looked.

“Do we have to go?” Rowan blurted and Aelin tipped her head back and laughed.

“We most certainly do.” Aelin did her jacket up and grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter as well as a plastic firefighter hat. “Come on, Mr Whitethorn. Let’s go have some fun.”

Rowan was about to tell her they could have fun here, probably better fun too, but he just sighed and closed the apartment door behind him.

Aelin left her coat in the car. Rowan had parked and within seconds Aelin had deserted the car only leaving a heap of black material behind. He was quick to follow and the elevator arrived just as he got there. 

“Look at this fancy apartment building with it’s elevator,” Aelin mused as she pushed the button and then lent on the railing. “You never answered my question. You think Lorcan would let me on the team?”

Rowan turned, seeing that teasing look written on every feature of her face. “Definitely not. But that has nothing to do with the costume.”

Aelin laughed again. “You haven’t even told me if you like my costume or not. You make a very sexy Teacher if I do say so myself.”

He moved, they were chest to chest and almost touching. Then Rowan gave her a lingering once over that made Aelin breath just a little faster. Leaning in he kissed her, and he felt her smiling against his lips before she fully committed to it. The only sound was the mechanisms of the elevator, then there was the definitive sound of a zipper being pulled.

Aelin let out a comical gasp. “Mr Whitethorn, keep your hands to yourself.” 

Rowan chuckled and kissed her again, quickly, and stepped away, hands raised. 

“I was wondering how long it would take you, that was damn near obscene,” Aelin laughed, readjusting her suspenders.

He hadn’t been pulling the down, he’d been pulling it up to try and give him a little more peace of mind when he walked into the party. It was a stupid, jealous thing to do, and he expected Aelin to rip into him for it. But he was mistaken, it was all a ploy from Aelin to get his attention it seemed. The elevator arrived at the right floor and she pulled his glasses from his pocket, slipping them onto his nose before grabbing his hand and leading them out. They walked down the hallway, arriving at a door with music pulsing behind it. Aelin didn’t bother knocking and walked in, almost running into the hostess herself. Lysandra was dressed as Red Riding Hood, a bright red cape over a short green dress.

“You made it!” She nearly yelled as she hugged Aelin, obviously already a little drunk. Then her green eyes landed on him. “Nice lipstick, Rowan.”

Confused, Rowan rubbed at his mouth, his fingers coming away red. He gave Aelin an accusing look but she just grinned and rubbed away what was left of the lipstick.

“You look great,” Lysandra said, then she pointed between them. “I get it. You’re dressed as each other. Clever.”

“Thank you,” Aelin said, tucking into Rowan’s side. “Where’s Aeds?”

Lysandra waved behind her. “Somewhere. You guys have fun, now!” 

She was gone through the crowd and Rowan held onto Aelin’s hand as she led them to the drinks. He spotted Elide and a few other familiar faces, but overall there were a lot of people hadn’t seen before. Aelin waved to people she recognised, saying hello here and there, but she never let go of him. She found him a stool in a corner, letting him sit while she leaned into his chest. Aedion eventually found them, as did Elide and Lysandra, the women begging Aelin to come dance but she declined. 

Rowan could tell that she wanted to, so he leant forward and kissed her cheek. “Go have fun love, I’m fine here.”

She turned to face him then said hopefully. “You could always come dance with me.”

“I don’t think so,” Rowan said, shaking his head. 

Aelin pouted at him but she didn’t push him. “I’ll be back soon I promise.”

True to her word Aelin came back after a few dances, Rowan’s eyes had been drinking her in the whole time and she made sure to send him flirty smiles as she did. That costume combined with the way she moved was nearly driving him insane. But soon after she arrived she was dragged off again for a game of beer pong with Aedion. As a team the two cousins were unstoppable and by the time she wandered back to Rowan again she was definitely a little tipsy. She threw her arms around his neck, leaning fully into him.

“Come dance with me, please?” Aelin begged. 

That smile was almost his undoing but then a voice he actually recognised sounded from behind her.

“There you are. Not surprised to see you hiding in a corner, Whitethorn.”

Looking up Rowan saw Fenrys and Aelin turned to face him as well. 

“You made it!” She exclaimed.

It was then that Rowan took in exactly what Fenrys was wearing… or not wearing. He had worn most of his work uniform, just about everything except his shirt. Even with the jacket over the top Rowan could tell that he’s taken care to oil up his bare chest beneath, only ever so slightly covered by his suspenders. He lent his elbow on Aelin’s shoulder, and looking at the two of them they were the ones that looked like they had come dressed to match.

Fenrys tilted his head. “Who are you supposed to be? Clark Kent?”

Rowan crossed his arms over his chest but it was Aelin who answered. “No he’s a teacher. You get it?”

“Oh, yep yep. I get it,” Fenrys said nodding. “You’ve swapped professions. And, might I just say Miss Galathynius, you make a fine firefighter.” 

Aelin shoved him. “Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

Getting a drink turned into a few dances, followed by a game of magnetic darts and then at least three songs worth of awful karaoke. In between the activities Aelin and Fenrys wandered away from each other, but always seemed to find the other again. At one point Fenrys came over to drop off his jacket now that he was getting a little warm, Rowan had even rolled his sleeves up to his elbows for a little relief.

Rowan fixed his coworker with a look. “You know you’re not supposed to wear your uniform outside of work.”

Fenrys’ reply was a shrug and a grin.

“You look like a stripper,” Rowan added and Fenrys let out an incredulous laugh.

“We all gotta live a little sometimes,” Fenrys said before disappearing to Aelin’s side again.

Rowan felt himself getting more sullen by the second, watching how Aelin and Fenrys smiled and had fun together. It was moments like this that Rowan wished he was more… sociable. More willing to put himself out there in situations like this, but instead he was sitting in a dark corner by himself, with only Fenrys’ jacket for company. Aelin wandered back to him, her hands immediately going to his face to make her look at him.

“What is it?” She asked him.

“It’s nothing,” Rowan said and she tried to shake Aelin off but she kept hold of him and just lent in closer.

“What. Is. It.”

Rowan sighed. “It looks like you have more fun with him than with me.”

Aelin smirked. “And him meaning Fenrys.”

Rowan nodded.

That smirk turned into a coy smile and she slotted herself between his legs, his hands finding her waist. “Well maybe if you got off this stool and came out to play.”

Rowan started to frown but Aelin kept his attention. “Hey, I’m kidding. I get it. Funny thing is that I invited him so you would have someone to talk to. Maybe I should have invited Lorcan instead, except he’d never say yes to me.” Rowan managed a laugh at that. “And I definitely don’t have more fun with Fen, trust me.” Aelin added earnestly.

“It certainly looks like it,” Rowan grumbled.

Aelin slid that much closer, her mouth right by his ear. “Oh yeah? Well, would I ever let him…”

She whispered in his ear, so close the breath that accompanied her words tickled his skin, making him break out in goosebumps. They were words that described something obscene about sliding on fire poles, on his fire pole to be exact. When she pulled away Aelin’s smile was feline and Rowan felt his cheeks heat.

“Can we go now, please?” Rowan’s voice was nowhere near as smooth or confident as he wanted it to be.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Aelin said. Rowan stood and went to take his glasses off but Aelin stopped him, her hands running up his arms to where his sleeves were rolled up. “You’ll be leaving those on. All night, if you please, Mr Whitethorn.” 

~~~~~

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this silliness. 

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[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap: Chapter 3

I forgot how much I enjoy writing Anna and Carl’s relationship. We get to revist them the morning after their fun. Hope you all enjoy it too.

Chapter 1| Chapter 2|

Anna was already awake, a smile on her face as she watched the screen of the monitor on the bedside table. She let herself slip into the memories of last night. It was almost like a dream. Everything she had imagined and more. She shifted a little, sliding a hand from beneath the pillow, down to her chest. The monitor picked up the increase in heart rate as her fingers brushed across the foam backing of one of the AEDs pad that were still stuck to her skin.

She felt Carl stirring beside her and a few moments later the groaned a little as he rolled over. She felt his warm chest settle against her back, his arm wrapping over her, finding the hand that was brushing the pads. His fingers aligned over hers, and together they traced around the electrode with their fingertips.

"I knew there was something we forgot to clean up..." He commented, his voice rumbling through his chest into her spine. It sent tingles through her.

"I'm glad we did." She replied, guiding his hand across her chest, circling around her breast and down to the other pad.

"Hmm..." Carl grunted in satisfaction, then he shifted again sitting up slightly and leaning over her. Anna felt a slight tug on the wire of the pads. "Could have done without sleeping on this though." He said, dangling the hard plastic connector in front.

Anna winced, rolling to look up at him. "Sorry." She had to suppress a slight giggle, at the way he raised his eyebrows.

"That's it? Just sorry?" His tone was light an playful. "I think it's going to take a little more than sorry."

She pulled him down for a kiss, soft and gentle and still breathtaking. "Good enough?" She whispered when they broke apart.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "It's a start at least. I'll have to think about ways for you to make it up to me." He told her, before he rolled onto his back, stretching out his arms. "I suppose we should get up."

"Do we have too?" Anna moaned, pulling herself up to sit against the headboard. "Neither of us are working. We could just stay here, enjoy ourselves for the day. Play with some of the other toys..." She suggested, looking at him in what she hoped was an alluring way.

Carl looked at her, his hand reaching up to brush some of her sleep-messed hair out of her face. "You have no idea how tempting that sounds." He told her, his finger looping over her ear then running down her jaw. "But the fridge is almost empty. So I was thinking we could go the market, stock up, and maybe head to your place."

"My place? Why?" She asked, thinking about her own dreary apartment. Cramped, dull and lacking that heavenly cupboard of her dreams.

"Well, erm. I know we didn't actually get around to announcing...us. But I figured if you were ready for that, you would maybe want to... move in here more... permanently." Carl said, that nervousness she had seen a few days ago coming back. He really did love her.

She leaned over and kissed him, deeply. For almost a minute they were totally connected, breathing each other in. It natural came to an end, both of them a little breathless. "That's a yes by the way." Anna whispered, before pulling away.

Carl grinned. "Great." He whispered back, then swung his legs out of the bed. "I'll put the kettle on, if you want to..." He waved at the electrodes, ECG and AED, that covered much of her chest.

Anna chuckled, and nodded, then had to stifle a cringing gasp when Carl stood up. A large red mark from the AED connector stood out like a brand on his side. She couldn't help but giggle. "Sorry again."

"Oh...You will be....You will be...." he replied with a low grating voice.

"Seriously? A Yoda reference? Nerd." She told him.

"And yet you knew it instantly. So who is really the nerd?" He countered, slipping out of the room before she could retort. Anna rolled her eyes, yet couldn't help but smile as she began to peel off the electrodes. She was slowly peeling off the AED pads, when she heard Carl's phone ring in the other room. She didn't think too much of it, but a few moments later, her own began to sound. She ripped off the pad, cringing slightly, then looked around for her bag, spying it on the stool in the corner.

She had to step over the CPR board and other leftovers from last night, grabbing the bag and pulling out her handset. She looked at the name. It was Sara, one of her co-workers. She answered.

"I'm sorry Anna, I know its your day off, but they're calling in everyone. You'd better check the news."

* * *

The explosion made the entire boat buck, sending everyone left on the deck sprawling, a plume of fire ballooning into the sky. Shouts and screams rang out, as panic began to take hold. Jones couldn't let that happen. He winced as he pulled himself to his feet. With a glance to one side he noted that at least the injured had managed to get onto that patrol boat before the explosion.

"Get everyone onto the boats. Now!" He shouted at the nearby officers who had regained their feet. As he walked over to that first patrol boat he staggered a touch, the deck pitching up slightly as the rear of the boat took on water. He peered over the side, relieved to see that everyone was ok. "Cast off, now, carry on as planned." He ordered, then signaled a different boat to take its place. The other officers were marshalling the remaining passengers, getting them organised and ready for a much quicker exit. It seemed to have stopped the panic before it could cause any problems. Which was just as well, he had more than enough already.

He turned and looked around for that Paramedic. Lucy Branthwaite he reminded himself. She was kneeling down, and he saw blood on the deck. He started to rush over, concerned for her safety, before he noticed that she was crouched over another figure. One he didn't recognise from earlier. He braced himself on the cabin as he leaned over, taking a quick look. The young man had a badly broken arm, and a nasty cut to his head.

"Miss Branthwaite," he tried to get her attention, but her focus was on the young mans arm as she flicked a penlight across his eyes. "Lucy! You both need to get off the boat. Right now."

Lucy shook her head. "I need to splint this arm before we even try and lower him down." She replied, turning and reaching out for one of her bags. As she pulled it closer and started to open it up the young man stirred, then started to get up. "Woah! Woah. Hold him!" She shouted at Jones. "You need to stay still okay. You're going to be fine. Just stay still."

The young mans eyes seemed glazed, roaming between Jones and Lucy, then the suddenly snap into focus, and he started to say something. It was hard to hear over all the other sounds as police officers tried to evacuate all the passengers. Both Jones and Lucy leaned closer. "Help her. Please help her." The young man was crying, desperate, afraid.

"Help who?" Lucy asked. "Who are you talking about sweetie?"

"Sh...Shona. Please help Shona." He mumbled.

Another passenger, another casualty, Jones thought. "Where is she? Why didn't see come with you?" He asked.

"Luggage...Trapped...Couldn't help her...Please." He sobbed. "Please..."

Jones looked at Lucy, both knowing what it meant. There was someone else, injured and trapped. At the end of the boat that was rapidly filling with icy river water, water that would soon drag the entire boat under the surface of the river. There was no question about what must be done. "Get that splint on then get out of here." Jones told her, ignoring her half-hearted but obligatory protest as he turned to a nearby officer. "We've got another casualty. You're in charge. Get the passengers, then yourselves clear, Understood?" He didn't wait for an answer, turning for the door into the passenger cabin.

Lucy stood in his way. "Be careful." She told him.

Jones nodded. "Don't wait. You get clear, as soon as you can."

"Don't worry. Patients come first," She replied.

Jones headed through the door, sprinting up the steps, towards the half submerged rear of the boat, dreading what he might find.

* * *

Shona was still in the luggage area, watching the stairs, hoping to see rescue come for her, when the fuel tank exploded. The noise was like a physical wall, flattening her to the floor. The whole boat seemed to jump, giving a moment of weightlessness. That ended abruptly and prompted the heavy luggage to slam into her again. She screamed as her leg became little more than blinding pain. For an almost endless time, the pain was the entirety of her existence. Until she was pulled back to reality by something even worse

An icy, wet feeling running down her spine, and rapidly expanding.

She gasped as cold gripped her, her eyes snapping open to see the water rushing into the luggage compartment. Desperately she tried to move, her hands splashing in the water that was already rising. Her fingers instantly numbed, and her efforts got her nowhere. Her legs were still trapped, there was no escape.

"Help! Please help!" She screamed, her voice breaking into sobs as the cold began to encase her body. There was already two inches of water in the compartment, it was rising fast, way too fast. "Please..." She whimpered. The cold, pain and shear stress of her injuries became too much. The will to fight left her, her head fell back into the water, already above her ears.

Her breath shuddered as her body shivered, her temperature plummeting in the cold water of the river. Her eyes felt heavy. So heavy. Her head fell to one side, and she shot back to consciousness as water trickled into mouth and was pulled into her lungs. She sat up as much as she was able, her body acting almost entirely on reflex.

The water covered her legs now, which was actually almost pleasant, the water stripping away all warmth but also all feeling, dulling the pain somewhat. There was less pressure on her too, as cases and bags gained a little buoyancy in the water. Not enough to let her free herself, but it no longer felt claustrophobic and crushing. In fact it was almost comfortable. Like a weighted blanket, without the warmth.

 She let herself half float on the water as it rose, raising her up to a full sitting position. There was a strange feeling. It was almost like serenity. Even though she arched her neck, trying to keep her mouth out of the water, her panic was ebbing away. Her whole body was so numb that she felt nothing. No pain, no pressure. Even the actual feeling of cold had disappeared. All replaced with a feeling of peace and acceptance, even as the water slipped over her mouth, submerging her completely.

On instinct she held her breath as she descended into the water, all sounds being muted away except one. Her heart became loud in her ears, slowed by the rapid onset of hypothermia, each beat was like a drum, thumping out every couple of seconds. It picked up as her oxygen ran low, as her lungs couldn't hold her breath in any longer. She blew out a stream of bubbles, then drew in a lungful of chilled river water. Her body spasmed, trying to cough out the water, only to draw more in, leaving her trashing as much as she was able. All of this was automatic instinct alone.

In her mind, she still felt only peace, as her heart slowed once more. Each resounding thump carrying her off. Each thump taking her further, drifting closer to oblivion. With a soft, accepting smile on her face as she slipped away, Shona's heart beat one more, then came to a standstill.

[thepaperpanda]

Bringing the Christmas Spirit Back || Heartman x Reader

Summary: When the Christmas spirit is long gone for humanity, Heartman tries to restore it.

Warnings: none    

Words: 2711

Authors: Cass & Bear

Yawning loudly you walked out to the main room of Heartman's lab.

You didn't expect anything to be different because why would it be?

To your own surprise there was a big christmas tree in the middle of the room, it was made of plastic. "Uhm... What is that?," You asked, walking closer to inspect the colorful baubles and other decorations.

 “Well, now that you're awake, I have to tell you that we ran out of earl gray,” Heartman stepped into the room, almost jumping off four little stairs. “Hi, gorgeous,” he placed a brief kiss on your cheek and stood right next to the christma tree. “I’ve printed it with a 3D printer, what do you think?,” He asked, being obviously proud of himself. “I thought that we could have restored some of the old traditions. That we could have brought some of the Christmas spirit, to gain some kind of mood improvement.”

 "I forgot you don't sleep with me in bed. You have a lot of time to do these things," you said with a smile and rubbed your eyes, trying your best to wipe the sleep off them. "It's a good idea but I don't think it will ever be the same, and about the tea, I will check later what else we need, and then I will do a bigger order."

 “Sam won’t be happy,” Heartman let out a proper laugh. “It’s going to be our… Fourteenth order over the past two weeks,” He took his glasses off to wipe them using a kerchief he held in his back pocket.

 "The fifteenth order, sweetie. I checked the records last evening before the bed. I have no idea what you ordered behind my back but I know you did," you sighed, tapping his shoulder. "Let's hope they will send some other poor soul and not our Sam."

 “Well, actually, I wouldn’t mind them sending Sam, I have a few questions for him,” Heartman put his glasses back on. “Now, you look much better than the second before when your figure was blurry,” he sent you a grin and in the same moment his AED beeped a few times. “Ah, shit. We’ll continue our deep conversation in 3 minutes, okay? Meantime, be a good girl and make me a strong coffee, and don’t forget I like it bitter.”

 You giggled and nodded. "Okay, I will also make some breakfast while in the kitchen."

After kissing his cheek you went to the bedroom to quickly grab your glasses before heading to the kitchen. Then you started preparing the hot drinks.

 After exactly 3 minutes, Heartman’s AED brought him back to life with a strong, electric impulse. It took him a few seconds to gain his thoughts. “I hate this,” he muttered to himself and before he got up from the cot, he had written some things in his online journal, using his fingers to do so.

 At that point you were putting plates with breakfast onto the table. Toasts for both of you, coffee for him, and green tea for you.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you started looking through all the cabinets and shelves. "I think I have everything," you muttered to yourself.

 Heartman walked into the little dining room shortly after, he instantly took his seat. “Thanks,” he sent you a smile and started eating. “What are you looking for? Tell me, and I’ll tell you where you’ll be able to find it.”

 "No, no. It's okay, I already know what I need," you informed him and quickly took your seat right in front of him. "You really want to bring back a bit of the Christmas spirit to these dark days, huh?"

 "Yes, whenever possible," he replied and took a bite of his toast. He chewed and sipped on his coffee. "Yeah, that's what I needed."

 "Glad you liked it," you smiled at him, taking a sip of your tea.

After break Heartman returned to his work. Meantime, you checked and listed all the stuff you needed before placing an order with a little message for Sam.

After making sure your beloved man was busy with work, you quickly returned to the kitchen, locking the door. "Let's see if I still remember how to do this."

Maybe it was a silly idea but since Heartman wanted to bring back Christmas, it was worth a shot.

An hour and a half had passed and you finally left the kitchen. Of course he didn't notice you weren't around for the longer moment.

"Sweetie. I have something for you!"

 There was no response from Heartman.

He was dead, again.

The chiral matter in his hourglass almost filled the bottom part which meant he was about to get back within the blink of an eye.

 Sighing, you took a seat on the leather couch, waiting for him to return.

 Another electric impulse made its way through Heartman's body, and the man jerked in his place regaining consciousness. "Y/N, did you say something?"

 You nodded. "I called you but I was a bit too late to catch you. Glad to see you back, come here. I have a Christmas gift for you."

 "A Christmas gift? For me?," He blinked and didn't even try to hide his consternation as he got up. "I didn't expect anything like this but I won't lie, I can't wait to see what you got for me!"

 You laughed. "Be a good man and open your mouth, eyes closed," you hummed with a smile. It was a little revenge for some test you had to do for him in the past.

 At first he blinked hearing your command. Then, he laughed loudly. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but as much as I love you, I don't hold an ounce of confidence in your actions," he joked, referring to that one particular time when you asked him to obey your words only to prank him.

 You rolled your eyes. "Trust me this one time. You won't regret it, I swear on the bond between us," you said, placing your hand over your heart.

 "I'm Heartman and my heart is already skipping a beat out of fear of what you've planned," he smirked but closed his eyes and parted his lips slightly. "I just want to warn you that if you'll try to feed me with chiral matter cookies, you'll regret the day you were born."

 You sighed and put a regular chocolate chip cookie between his lips. "Here. I hope I didn't burn them... And that they are good. I can't remember when I baked these for the last time."

 He chewed and then issued an opinion. "I like the flavour, the cookie was not too sweet yet not too bitter, too. You've added a perfectly measured amount of cocoa, the cookie had a tempting smell, too," Heartman stated. "I only lack some tiny ounce of ginger and honey but I know that it's extremely hard to get those."

 You looked at him, listening to his every word. It wasn't exactly the opinion you expected. "But... Do you like it? Before this all happened I used to make them for Christmas."

 "Do I like it? I love it, Y/N," Heartman replied. "If not for the fact I'm on a forever diet to stay in shape, I'd eat a tone of these!"

 "Oh, in such a case the whole jar of cookies wasn't a great idea," you giggled, rubbing your hand awkwardly. "Sorry."

 He sent you a smile. "I knew you'll surprise me, honey. But before I'll die again today, let me take you somewhere. While you'd been sleeping, I prepared something small," he claimed and got up from the cot, offering you his shoulder.

 You blinked confused but nodded, taking his arm. "Shall I be worried?"

 Heartman didn't reply but took you out of his laboratory. "Put your coat on," he advised. “By my side you don’t have to be worried.”

 You nodded and put on your coat just like he advised you. Just to be safe you also slipped on your warm boots. "Okay. I am ready... I think."

 He put his long, black coat on as well and led you outside of his facility.

Heartman stopped with you on the threshold of his outpost, being still under awning. "There," he pointed on the left. "Do you see him?"

 You rubbed your eyes, trying to get used to the brightness of the snow. Frowning you looked in the direction he pointed. "Is it…? Wait! Is it a snowman?"

 "Yes, it is. I called it the Death Stranding Snowman. He looks like a regular one but, if you'll take a closer look, you can see he had the Odradek and backpack, just like porters do."

 You giggled and nodded. "I can see that and I love it. I bet that Sam will love it as soon as he sees it. I am glad we live in a place like this actually, the Death Stranding Snowman will be with us longer due to low temperature."

 "Correct. And, also," he pointed his index finger up, right above your heads.

A plastic mistletoe hung on a tiny string attached to awning. "Maybe we can just have a little sneaky kiss under this mistletoe? It’s a tradition, isn’t it though?"

 You looked up at the mistletoe and laughed shortly. "Oh, you really got prepared while I was sleeping, huh?," You asked with a cocky smile.

 "Less talking, more doing," he muffled your voice with his lips crushing on yours.

 You hummed and kissed him back, placing your hands against his chest.

After a moment you pulled away to catch your breath.

 "Mmmm, that was something, Y/N," Heartman let out a hum of appreciation as his left palm was placed to your cheek where he gently brushed his thumb over your skin. "Ah! Just look at that! Sam's faster than I expected!"

 In the distance you could spot a little cloud of snow rising into the air. Sam Porter Bridges was riding his bike right to your outpost.

 You blinked and looked at the cloud of snow, giggling. "Oh, yes, he is, I still wonder how he is riding this thing through all the snow," you tapped Heartman's chest. "I will go pack him some cookies for the road and you get inside before you run out of time."

 Heartman decided to wait for Sam to approach.

When the other man got off his motorcycle and took all the packages, Heartman waved at him, still standing at the threshold of his outpost. "Sam Bridges! It's good to see you!"

 Sam didn't reply, only nodded his head while climbing up the stairs. By his way he turned head aside and stopped, looking at the snowman. “Seriously?,” He questioned loudly enough for Heartman to hear. “Whose idea it was?”

 Soon you joined both men. "Hello Sam, it's good to see you," you said with a smile and looked at Heartman, frowning. "I think I told you to get inside, huh?"

 "Easy, Y/N, I put this little thing on mute," he patted his AED a few times. “Idea for the snowman was totally mine. I’m thinking about getting similar sculptures to other Bridges locations, not necessarily made of snow but rather printed in Chiral Printers. We should consider bringing Christmas spirit all over America.”

 Sam scoffed Heartman’s words. “It’s not feasible as not all cities are in the network.” Sam was glaring at him, then he moved his glance to you. "Another order, huh? Are you opening a canteen or something? How is it possible for two people to use all of the supplies in a week?"

 "You kidding me right? I am not going to drag you back inside," uou muttered, completely annoyed with Heartman’s weird habit of muting the AED, so you simply unmuted the device.

"And it stays like this, sweetie," you said and turned your attention back to Sam. "Trust me, Sam, I have no idea what he is doing when I am asleep but our supplies melts like snow in the sun. I am so sorry for the trouble."

 With cocked brows Sam observed you and your little outburst of anger towards Heartman. "Yeah," he summed the situation up. Next moment he simply gestured at you and Heartman to slide aside. "I need to deliver these," he pointed at packages on his back.

 "Oh! Yes, right! Go to the terminal and then bring stuff inside," you instructed him and looked at Heartman. "We will be there."

 Heartman got back inside and took his coat as soon as he crossed the threshold of his laboratory.

 Soon, Sam joined you. He cringed at the very beginning after stepping in, when he spotted stuffed BTs with Christmas hats on. "The fuck...," He grunted to himself.

 "Heartman wants to bring back the Christmas spirit. In some way at least," you said looking at Sam from the couch and pointed at the big christmas tree. "BT in christmas hats aren't the only decorations here."

 Sam stopped at the top of four little stairs. "Yeah. I thought that you're not this type of guy because just like you claimed, you’re being dead inside," he summed up and got downstairs, putting the packages aside.

 "Well, you can see how much one person can change," you summed up getting up from the couch to walk up to Sam. "Here, since it's Christmas time. I have a little gift for you, I hope you will like it," you smiled at him, giving him a little bag of cookies.

 At first he hesitated to accept the little bag with cookies but soon he took it. "Thank you, Y/N."

 Heartman was laying on his cot. "Was nice to see you again, Sam. Thank you for bringing us all of the necessary things so quickly. You're simply the best porter."

 Sam nodded and grunted something under his breath only to turn around and got up the little stairs. "If only all BTs would be that cute," he pointed at two stuffed creatures.

 You giggled and nodded. "If all BTs were like these ones, the  world wouldn't be that scary. Thank you so much for coming, Sam. Have a good trip."

Several minutes passed since the moment Sam left you. Heartman was getting ready for another cardiac arrest when his intercom bipped, so the man frowned a little. “Do we expect any guests, Y’N?”

 You looked at him with a frown and shook your head.

Of course you didn't expect any guests, it's not like the good, old times when people could just visit friends randomly. It was a bit more complicated these days. "No, I do not and even if I did, I would inform you. Did you invite anyone?"

 He shook his head for no and got up. Heartman left his lab and went to the glazed entrance where the terminal was located. “Y’N, it’s Sam, come over here!”

 You even didn't bother to pull on the coat and joined Heartman, wearing your regular clothes.

"Sam? Is everything okay?"

 "Yes!," Sam yelled from the distance. "I improved your snowman, Heartman!"

 Heartman looked at you, frowning. "What is he talking about?," He asked and opened the main door to step slightly outside. The timefall stopped so Heartman simply got out of the building. "Y/N, you need to see this!"

 You were completely confused about what was going on. You followed Heartman to look at the improved snowman.

 The snowman had now one hand made of some plastic garbage Heartman found in his laboratory when the other one was made of snow, with middle finger up in the air. Next to the snowman there was a line of text scrawled in the snow. Fuck Higgs and his terrorists!, the inscription stated. Heartman lifted his hand up and gave a thumb up to Sam. “100 likes for this piece of art, Sam!”

 You gave Sam a thumb down. "And minus 50 likes from me. I preferred the previous snowman," you said but giggled.

  “You have no idea about modern art, Y/N!,” Sam yelled back and got onto his vehicle to roll down the hill.

“What? I like this anti-Monaghan version,” Heartman shrugged and wrapped arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get back inside. There are some handmade cookies left.”