#Bandage dresses uk

[pucksandpower]

To Hell With Duty

Lewis Hamilton x soulmate!Reader

Summary: you’ve always known that being Princess of the UK means that a soulmate is a luxury you can’t afford … but then you meet your soulmate and decide that some things are worth turning your back on duty for

Warnings: abusive family dynamics

Note: I promised to write something in honor of Lewis’ win and this was born (now I’m tempted to make a soulmate AU series)

The sun blazes overhead as you step out of the sleek black car, your designer heels clicking against the pavement. The roar of engines and the excited chatter of the crowd at Silverstone envelop you, but you can barely hear them over the pounding of your own heart.

“Your Royal Highness, this way please,” a smartly dressed aide gestures towards the paddock area.

You nod, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. As you walk, you absently rub your wrist, feeling the slight raised bumps of your soulmate mark beneath the carefully applied concealer.

“I wish you didn’t have to hide it,” your best friend and lady-in-waiting, Sophie, whispers beside you.

“You know I don’t have a choice,” you murmur back, glancing around to ensure no one overheard.

The memory of your brother’s ordeal flashes through your mind, as vivid and painful as the day it happened ...

“No, please! You can’t do this!” Edward’s anguished cries echoed through the palace halls.

You huddled in your room, hands pressed over your ears, trying to block out the sound. But nothing could drown out your brother’s screams as the royal physician burned away his soulmate tattoo.

Later, when you snuck into his room, you found him curled up on his bed, cradling his bandaged wrist.

“Eddie?” You whispered, your voice small and frightened.

He looked up at you, his eyes red and puffy. “Y/N ... I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You climbed onto the bed beside him. “Why did they do it? Why can’t you be with your soulmate?”

Edward sighed, pulling you close. “Because we’re royals, little sister. Our marriages are about duty, not love. Soulmates ... they’re a luxury we can’t afford.”

“But that’s not fair!” You protested.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, his voice hollow. “But it’s the price we pay for our position. Promise me something, Y/N. If you ever find your soulmate ... run. Run far away and don’t look back.”

The memory fades as Sophie gently squeezes your arm, bringing you back to the present.

“Are you okay?” She asks, concern etched on her face.

You take a deep breath, straightening your shoulders. “I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”

As you make your way through the paddock, you can’t help but feel a twinge of envy at the carefree laughter and excitement around you. Everywhere you look, people are proudly displaying their soulmate tattoos, some comparing them with friends, others stealing glances at strangers, wondering if today might be the day they meet their perfect match.

“Your Royal Highness,” a race official greets you with a bow. “We’re honored to have you here today. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the VIP area.”

You nod, allowing yourself to be led through the crowded paddock. The official drones on about the day’s schedule, but your mind wanders.

“What do you think your soulmate is like?” Sophie had asked you once, years ago, when you were both giggling teenagers.

“I don’t know,” you had replied, tracing the words on your wrist. “But I hope they’re kind. And funny. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just my title.”

“You’ll find them one day,” Sophie had said confidently. “And when you do, it’ll be magical.”

Now, surrounded by the bustle and excitement of race day, that conversation feels like a lifetime ago. You’ve long since resigned yourself to the fact that you’ll never meet your soulmate. Even if you did, you could never act on it. The risk is too great.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the figure rounding the corner until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, stumbling backward. Strong hands grip your arms, steadying you before you can fall.

You look up, an apology on your lips, and find yourself staring into the most captivating brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Time seems to stand still as you gaze at each other, the world fading away around you.

And then he speaks, his voice low and warm.

“Whoa there, careful Princess. I’ve got you.”

***

Your heart stops as Lewis’ words sink in. They’re an exact match to the tattoo hidden beneath layers of concealer on your wrist. For a moment, you’re frozen, lost in his warm brown eyes, your mind reeling with the implications of what just happened.

Then reality comes crashing down. You can’t do this. You can’t put him in danger. You can’t risk the pain your brother went through.

“I ... I have to go,” you stammer, pulling away from his gentle grip.

Lewis’ brow furrows in confusion. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

But you’re already backing away, panic rising in your chest. “I’m sorry, I can’t ... this isn’t ... I have to leave.”

You turn and run, pushing past startled onlookers, your heart pounding in your ears. Behind you, you hear Lewis call out.

“Princess, wait! Your words ... they’re on my wrist!”

You falter for a moment, his words piercing through your panic. But no, it doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. You keep running.

“Y/N, please!” Lewis’ voice is closer now. He’s chasing after you. “I know you felt it too. We need to talk about this!”

You duck around a corner, trying to lose him in the maze of the paddock. But Lewis is faster, more familiar with the layout. He catches up to you in a quiet area behind one of the garages.

“Princess,” he says, slightly out of breath. “Please, just hear me out.”

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill. “You don’t understand. We can’t do this. My family ... they’ll never allow it. They’ll hurt you, or worse.”

Lewis takes a cautious step closer. “What do you mean? Why would your family hurt me?”

“Because you’re my soulmate!” The words burst out before you can stop them. “And royals aren’t allowed to be with their soulmates. It’s all about duty and arranged marriages. They ... they burned off my brother’s mark when he found his soulmate.”

Lewis’ eyes widen in horror. “That’s barbaric. They can’t do that to you.”

You laugh bitterly. “They’re the royal family. They can do whatever they want.”

“No,” Lewis says firmly. “They can’t. Because I won’t let them.”

You look at him, confused. “What?”

Lewis takes your hand gently, his touch sending sparks through your body. “Y/N, I’m not just British. I’m also a Brazilian citizen. And in Brazil, there are laws protecting soulmates. If we’re truly matched, which I believe we are, you automatically gain Brazilian citizenship too. Your family can’t touch you there.”

Hope flares in your chest, but you quickly squash it down. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll find a way. They always do.”

“Not this time,” Lewis insists. “Look, I have a race to drive soon, but after that, we can fly to Brazil immediately. I’ll keep you safe until then.”

You shake your head. “It’s too dangerous. If they find out ...”

“They won’t,” Lewis promises. “My driver’s room is private and secure. You can hide there until after the race. No one will think to look for you there.”

You hesitate, torn between hope and fear. “I don’t know ...”

Lewis squeezes your hand gently. “I know we just met, but I’ve been waiting my whole life to find you. Please, give us a chance. Let me protect you.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. Slowly, you nod. “Okay. But we have to be careful.”

Relief washes over Lewis’ face. “We will be. Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

He leads you quickly through the paddock, taking care to avoid busy areas. You keep your head down, heart racing every time you pass someone. Finally, you reach a door marked with Lewis’ name.

“Here we are,” he says, ushering you inside. “Lock the door behind me and don’t open it for anyone but me. I’ll knock three times, pause, then twice more. Okay?”

You nod, taking in the small but comfortable room. “Okay. But Lewis, what about your race? You can’t miss it because of me.”

He smiles reassuringly. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll race, and then we’ll leave right after. It’ll be fine.”

“But what if something goes wrong? What if they find me?” The fear creeps back into your voice.

Lewis takes your hands in his, his touch grounding you. “Hey, look at me. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise. We’re soulmates, remember? That means we’re in this together now.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he says softly. “But you’re also incredibly brave. You’ve lived with this fear your whole life, and you’re still standing. We can do this.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “We’ve known each other for all of ten minutes and you’re already saying ‘we’?”

Lewis grins. “Well, that’s what happens when you meet your soulmate, I guess. Everything changes in an instant.”

You laugh softly, feeling some of the tension leave your body. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Listen,” Lewis says, his tone turning serious. “I know this is all happening very fast, and I don’t expect you to fall in love with me right away or anything. We’ll take things as slow as you want once we’re safe. But right now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

You look into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity and determination. Slowly, you nod. “Yes, I think I can.”

“Good,” Lewis smiles. “Now, I have to go get ready for the race. Remember, three knocks, pause, then two more. Don’t open for anyone else.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “Be careful out there, okay?”

Lewis’ smile widens. “Always am, Princess. I’ll see you soon.”

As he leaves, you lock the door behind him, your heart still racing. You sink onto the small couch, trying to process everything that’s happened in the last hour.

You’ve found your soulmate. After years of hiding your tattoo, of living in fear of it being burned away like your brother’s, you’ve actually met the person whose words are etched on your skin.

And not just any person. Lewis Hamilton. World-famous driver, activist, and fashion icon. You’ve seen him on TV, of course, admired his skill on the track and his passion for social justice. But you never imagined ...

You rub your wrist absently, feeling the slight raised bumps of your mark beneath the concealer. For the first time in years, you allow yourself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can have the life you’ve always dreamed of.

But doubt creeps in. What if Lewis is wrong? What if Brazilian citizenship isn’t enough to protect you from your family’s influence? What if they find you before you can leave?

You pace the small room, alternating between hope and fear. The sound of engines revving in the distance tells you the race is about to start. You find yourself holding your breath every time you hear footsteps pass by the door, terrified it might be palace security coming to drag you away.

Time crawls by agonizingly slowly. You try to distract yourself by watching the race on the small TV in the corner, but every time the camera focuses on Lewis’ car, your heart leaps into your throat. You silently urge him to be careful, to finish the race quickly so you can escape.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear it. Three knocks, a pause, then two more. You rush to the door, your hand hesitating for just a moment before you unlock it.

Lewis slips inside quickly, closing and locking the door behind him. He’s still in his race suit, his hair damp with sweat.

“Are you okay?” You ask immediately. “How was the race?”

Lewis grins. “I’m fine, and I won. But that’s not important right now. We need to go.”

He grabs a bag from a locker and starts shoving clothes into it. “I’ve arranged for a private jet to take us to São Paulo. We need to leave now, before anyone realizes you’re missing.”

You nod, your heart racing again. “Okay. What do we do?”

“I’ve got some clothing here that might fit you,” Lewis says, pulling out a hoodie and sweatpants. “Put these on over your clothes. We’ll need to be discreet getting to the airport.”

As you change, Lewis continues talking. “Once we’re in Brazil, we’ll be safe. There are strict laws protecting soulmates there. Your family won’t be able to touch you.”

“But what about your career?” You ask, suddenly realizing what he’s giving up. “You can’t just leave everything behind for me.”

Lewis pauses, looking at you intently. “Y/N, you’re my soulmate. That means you’re more important than any career, any amount of fame or money. We’ll figure out the details later, but right now, keeping you safe is all that matters.”

His words make your heart swell. You’ve never had anyone put you first like this before. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Lewis smiles. “Just trust me, okay?”

You nod, feeling a sense of calm settle over you despite the chaotic situation. “I do trust you. Let’s go.”

Lewis takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath, thinking of all you’re leaving behind — your family, your duty, the only life you’ve ever known. But as you look at Lewis, you realize you’re also stepping into a new life. One where you’re free to be yourself, to love who you want, to follow your heart.

“Ready,” you say firmly.

And with that, Lewis opens the door, and together, you step out into your new future.

***

The private jet hums softly as it cuts through the night sky, carrying you away from everything you’ve ever known. You’re curled up against Lewis on the plush leather seat, your head resting on his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear is oddly comforting, grounding you in this surreal moment.

Lewis’ arm is wrapped around you, his hand gently stroking your back. With your free hand, you trace the lines of his soulmate tattoo — your first words to him, now etched forever on his skin.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” you murmur, your fingers following the curves of each letter.

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through his chest. “I know what you mean. I’ve imagined meeting you so many times, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality.”

You look up at him, a mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. “Weren’t you afraid? When you realized who I was?”

“Afraid?” Lewis considers for a moment. “No, not afraid. Excited, nervous, maybe a little overwhelmed. But not afraid.” He pauses, his expression growing serious. “But you were. You’re still afraid now, aren’t you?”

You nod slowly, dropping your gaze back to his wrist. “I’ve been afraid for so long, I’m not sure I know how to stop.”

Lewis’ hand moves to cup your face gently, encouraging you to look at him again. “Will you tell me about it? Help me understand?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “It’s ... it’s not a pleasant story.”

“I’m here,” Lewis says softly. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

His words, so simple yet so profound, give you the courage to begin. “It started with my brother, Edward. He was always the rebellious one, you know? Always pushing boundaries, questioning traditions. When he found his soulmate, he was over the moon. Her name was Lily, and she was ... she was perfect for him. Kind, funny, passionate about the same causes he was.”

You pause, the memory of your brother’s joy contrasting sharply with what came after. Lewis waits patiently, his presence a comforting anchor.

“For a few months, they managed to keep it a secret. But eventually, someone saw them together. Word got back to our parents and ...” You shudder, remembering that awful day. “They were furious. They gave Edward an ultimatum: give up Lily or give up his place in the line of succession.”

“That’s horrible,” Lewis murmurs, his arm tightening around you.

You nod, continuing, “Edward refused. He said Lily was more important than any throne. So they ... they decided to take matters into their own hands.”

Your voice breaks as you recount what happened next. “They had the royal physician burn off Edward’s soulmate mark. I can still hear his screams echoing through the palace. It was ... it was torture.”

Lewis’ body tenses beneath you, his voice tight with anger when he speaks. “They had no right. How could they do that to their own son?”

“They said it was for the good of the country,” you reply bitterly. “That royals can’t afford the luxury of soulmates. Our marriages are political tools, nothing more.”

“What happened to Edward and Lily?” Lewis asks gently.

You sigh heavily. “Edward was never the same after that. The spark in him just ... died. He does his duty now, makes the appearances he’s supposed to, but it’s like he’s just going through the motions. And Lily ... last I heard, she moved to Australia. I think being anywhere near the UK was too painful for her.”

Lewis is quiet for a moment, processing your words. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Y/N. No wonder you were scared when you realized we were soulmates.”

You nod, feeling the weight of years of fear and secrecy lifting as you share your story. “That’s not even the worst of it,” you admit softly.

Lewis looks at you, concern etched on his face. “There’s more?”

You take another deep breath, steeling yourself for the hardest part of the story. “My father ... he had an older sister. Aunt Margaret. I never met her, but I found out about her a few years ago.”

Lewis listens intently as you continue, “She found her soulmate when she was young, maybe 20 or so. And she refused to give him up, no matter what my grandparents said. They tried everything — threats, bribes, even attempting to arrange another match for her. But Margaret stood firm.”

“She sounds brave,” Lewis comments.

You nod, a sad smile touching your lips. “She was. But bravery wasn’t enough. One night, both Margaret and her soulmate disappeared. The official story was that they’d eloped, run off to start a new life together. But that wasn’t the truth.”

Lewis’ body tenses again, as if bracing for what’s coming. You press on, the words tumbling out now that you’ve started.

“Margaret’s soulmate was ... dealt with. Permanently. And Margaret herself was institutionalized. Locked away in a private facility, hidden from the world.”

“That’s ... that’s monstrous,” Lewis breathes, horror evident in his voice.

You nod, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “When I found out, I couldn’t believe it. I managed to find out where she was being held and I ... I visited her.”

Lewis’ hand resumes its gentle stroking of your back, encouraging you to continue.

“She was ... god, Lewis, she was just a shell. Decades of being locked away, of being separated from her soulmate ... it had broken her. She didn’t even seem to realize I was there.”

A tear escapes, rolling down your cheek. Lewis gently wipes it away with his thumb.

“That’s why I was so scared,” you whisper. “I’ve seen what my family is capable of. What lengths they’ll go to in order to keep up appearances, to maintain their idea of duty.”

Lewis is quiet for a long moment, his arms tightening around you protectively. When he finally speaks, his voice is filled with a mix of anger and determination.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” he says firmly. “What happened to your brother, to your aunt ... it was wrong. Cruel and wrong. But I promise you, I will not let that happen to us.”

You look up at him, seeing the fierce protectiveness in his eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because we’re not alone in this,” Lewis explains. “We have resources they don’t. My citizenship, for one. The laws protecting soulmates in Brazil. And beyond that, we have the power of public opinion.”

You frown, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”

Lewis shifts slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Think about it. Your family’s power comes from public support, right? What do you think would happen if the world found out they were separating soulmates, institutionalizing people?”

“It would be a scandal,” you realize, your eyes widening.

“Exactly,” Lewis nods. “We’re not helpless. If they try anything, we can fight back. We can tell our story, rally support. The world has changed a lot. People believe in the sanctity of soulmates now more than ever.”

His words spark a tiny flame of hope in your chest. “You really think we could do that?”

“I know we could,” Lewis says confidently. “But more than that, I don’t think we’ll have to. Your family isn’t stupid. They’ll realize the risk isn’t worth it. Especially not with someone as high-profile as me.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that. “Modest, aren’t you?”

Lewis grins, the tension of the moment breaking. “Hey, I’m just stating facts. Seven-time world champion, remember?”

You roll your eyes playfully, but then grow serious again. “Lewis ... thank you. For listening, for understanding. For not running away when you realized how complicated this all is.”

“Hey,” Lewis says softly, tilting your chin up so you’re looking directly into his eyes. “You’re my soulmate. That means we’re in this together, complications and all. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words wash over you, soothing fears you’ve carried for so long. For the first time, you allow yourself to truly believe that maybe, just maybe, you can have this. You can have him.

“So,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips. “What happens now?”

Lewis grins, his eyes twinkling with excitement and possibility. “Now? Now we start our adventure. We land in São Paulo, get your citizenship sorted out, and then ... well, then the world’s our oyster. We can go anywhere, do anything.”

“Anything?” You ask, the concept of such freedom almost dizzying.

“Anything,” Lewis confirms. “We could travel the world. Or we could find a quiet place to settle down if that’s what you prefer. We could work on charitable causes together, or you could pursue whatever dreams you’ve had to put aside because of your royal duties.”

The possibilities swirl in your mind, each one more exciting than the last. “I ... I don’t even know where to start,” you admit.

Lewis chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We don’t have to decide everything right now. We’ve got time. For now, let’s just focus on getting to Brazil safely. We can figure out the rest as we go.”

You nod, settling back against his chest. The steady beat of his heart syncs with the hum of the jet engines, lulling you into a sense of peace you haven’t felt in years.

As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of your soulmate’s arms, you realize something. For the first time in your life, you’re not afraid of the future. Instead, you’re excited to see what it holds.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together. You and Lewis, two halves of a whole, finally united. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but with him by your side, you’re ready for anything.

***

As the private jet touches down on Brazilian soil, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flutters in your stomach. Lewis gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as the plane rolls to a stop.

“Ready?” He asks, his warm brown eyes meeting yours.

You take a deep breath and nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

The cabin door opens, and the humid Brazilian air rushes in. Lewis leads you down the steps, his hand never leaving yours. At the bottom, a tall woman in a crisp suit waits, her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun.

“Mr. Hamilton,” she greets with a warm smile, extending her hand. “And Your Royal Highness. Welcome to Brazil. I’m Dr. Raquel Santos from the Department of Soulmate Affairs.”

Lewis shakes her hand. “Dr. Santos, thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”

“Of course,” she replies, turning to you. “Your Highness, it’s an honor.”

You shake her hand, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “Please, just call me Y/N. I ... I’m not sure how much of a royal I am anymore.”

Dr. Santos’ smile softens. “Of course, Y/N. Why don’t we move this conversation somewhere more private? I have a car waiting to take us to a secure location where we can discuss everything in detail.”

You and Lewis follow her to a sleek black car. Once inside, Dr. Santos turns to face you both.

“First and foremost,” she begins, “I want to assure you that you are under the full protection of Brazilian law. As soon as you stepped off that plane, Y/N, you became entitled to all the rights and protections we offer to soulmates.”

“Just like that?” You ask, hardly daring to believe it could be so simple.

Dr. Santos nods. “Just like that. Brazil takes soulmate rights very seriously. We believe that the bond between soulmates is sacred and should be protected at all costs.”

Lewis leans forward, his expression serious. “What exactly does that protection entail? Y/N’s situation is ... complicated.”

“I understand,” Dr. Santos says. “Your assistant filled me in on some of the details during our phone call. Let me break down the key points for you.”

As the car glides through the streets of São Paulo, Dr. Santos begins her explanation.

“First, as the soulmate of a Brazilian citizen, Y/N is immediately eligible for Brazilian citizenship. We can begin the paperwork right away. This will provide an added layer of protection against any attempts at extradition.”

You feel a weight lift off your shoulders at her words. “So my family can’t force me to return to the UK?”

“Correct,” Dr. Santos confirms. “Brazil does not recognize any authority over soulmate bonds, not even royal decrees. Your status as a princess is irrelevant in the eyes of our law when it comes to your rights as a soulmate.”

Lewis squeezes your hand, a smile playing on his lips. “See? I told you we’d figure it out.”

Dr. Santos continues, “Furthermore, we have specific laws protecting soulmates from forced separation. Any attempt to interfere with your bond — be it physical separation, coercion, or even attempts to remove or alter your soulmate marks — is considered a serious crime in Brazil.”

You unconsciously rub your wrist where your tattoo is hidden. “What about ... what if they try to claim I’m mentally unfit or something? To try and invalidate my choices?”

Dr. Santos’ expression turns serious. “We’ve seen such tactics used before, unfortunately. That’s why we have safeguards in place. Any claims of mental unfitness would require extensive evaluation by multiple independent Brazilian psychiatrists.”

“And if they try to use their diplomatic influence?” Lewis asks.

“Brazil’s stance on soulmate rights is non-negotiable,” Dr. Santos states firmly. “We’ve stood up to pressure from other nations before, and we won’t hesitate to do so again. Your bond is protected here, regardless of external political pressures.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “This all sounds almost too good to be true.”

Dr. Santos smiles warmly. “I understand your caution, Y/N. But I assure you, these protections are very real and very enforceable. Now, let me explain some of the practical aspects of your situation.”

As the car turns onto a quieter street, Dr. Santos pulls out a tablet. “We’ll need to register your bond officially. This involves a simple verification process — usually just a visual confirmation of a matching font on your soulmate marks. Once registered, you’ll be issued official documentation of your bond status.”

“What does that documentation do?” You ask, leaning forward with interest.

“It serves several purposes,” Dr. Santos explains. “Firstly, it’s legal proof of your bond, which can be used to claim various rights and protections under Brazilian law. It also serves as a form of identification and can be used to expedite your citizenship application.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “And what about privacy? Given our high profiles, we’re concerned about information leaks.”

“An excellent question,” Dr. Santos says. “We take privacy very seriously, especially in high-profile cases like yours. All information related to your bond and Y/N’s presence in Brazil will be classified at the highest level. Only a select few government officials will have access to this information.”

You feel a surge of gratitude towards this woman and the country she represents. “Dr. Santos, I can’t thank you enough for all of this.”

She smiles warmly. “It’s my pleasure. Protecting soulmates is not just my job, it’s my passion. Now, let’s discuss some of the support services available to you.”

As the car pulls up to a nondescript building, Dr. Santos continues her explanation. “We offer counseling services specifically tailored for soulmates who have faced separation or threats to their bond. These services are completely confidential and can be invaluable in helping you process your experiences and adjust to your new life.”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I think ... I think that might be really helpful.”

Lewis wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “We’ll get through this together, love. Whatever you need.”

Dr. Santos leads you into the building and up to a comfortably furnished office. As you all take seats, she pulls out some forms.

“Now, I know this is a lot to take in,” she says gently. “But I’d like to start the official registration process, if you’re ready. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you’ll have legal protection.”

You look at Lewis, who gives you an encouraging nod. “Okay,” you say, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

As Dr. Santos begins to explain the forms, a thought occurs to you. “Dr. Santos, what about Lewis? How will all of this affect his career?”

Dr. Santos smiles. “I’m glad you asked. Mr. Hamilton, as a Brazilian citizen, you have the right to have your soulmate with you wherever your career takes you. We can provide diplomatic assistance to ensure Y/N can travel with you freely, without risk of detention or forced return to the UK.”

Lewis grins, looking relieved. “That’s fantastic news. I was worried I might have to give up racing.”

“Not at all,” Dr. Santos assures him. “We believe that soulmates should support each other’s dreams and ambitions. Our laws are designed to facilitate that.”

As you begin filling out the forms, a sense of surreal calm washes over you. For the first time in your life, you feel truly protected, truly free to be with the person you’re meant to be with.

“There’s one more thing,” Dr. Santos says as you finish the paperwork. “As part of our soulmate protection program, we offer a safe house service. It’s a secure location where you can stay while you adjust to your new situation and decide on your next steps. Would you be interested in that?”

You and Lewis exchange a look. “I think that might be a good idea,” Lewis says. “At least for a little while, until we figure things out. My home here isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”

You nod in agreement. “Yes, please. That sounds perfect.”

Dr. Santos smiles, clearly pleased. “Excellent. I’ll make the arrangements right away. The location is completely confidential and guarded 24/7. You’ll be safe there.”

As she stands to make some calls, you turn to Lewis, feeling overwhelmed by everything that’s happened.

“Lewis,” you say softly, “I can’t believe you’ve done all this for me. You’ve turned your whole life upside down.”

He takes your hands in his, his eyes shining with emotion. “You’re my soulmate. My whole life was leading up to finding you. Everything else? It’s just details we’ll figure out together.”

You lean in, resting your forehead against his. For the first time since you can remember, you feel truly, completely safe. Protected not just by laws and governments, but by the love of the person you were always meant to find.

As Dr. Santos returns to finalize the arrangements, you realize that this isn’t just the end of your old life. It’s the beginning of something new, something wonderful. A life where you’re free to love, free to be yourself, free to explore the bond that fate has given you.

Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know now that you won’t face them alone. You have Lewis, you have the protection of Brazilian law, and most importantly, you have hope. The future, once so terrifying, now shines with possibility.

And as you leave the office hand in hand with Lewis, ready to start your new life together, you can’t help but smile. Because for the first time, you’re not running away from something.

You’re running towards it.

***

The roar of engines and the buzz of excitement fill the air as you stand at the entrance to the Autódromo José Carlos Pace. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of nerves and exhilaration coursing through your veins. Lewis’ hand is warm and steady in yours, a constant reminder that you’re not alone.

“Are you ready for this?” Lewis asks, his brown eyes searching yours with concern.

You take a deep breath, squeezing his hand. “As ready as I’ll ever be. It’s time to stop hiding.”

Lewis nods, a proud smile lighting up his face. “That’s my girl. Remember, whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

With one last reassuring squeeze, Lewis leads you into the paddock. The moment you step into view, a hush falls over the nearby crowd. Then, like a wave, whispers and exclamations ripple outward.

“Is that ...”

“It can’t be ...”

“The princess!”

“With Lewis Hamilton?”

Cameras flash in a frenzy, and reporters surge forward, held back only by the security team flanking you and Lewis. You keep your head high, your hand firmly in Lewis’ as you make your way through the paddock.

A brave reporter manages to shout a question over the commotion. “Your Highness! Is it true you’ve been in hiding in Brazil?”

You pause, looking to Lewis. He gives you an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, you turn to face the press.

“Yes, it’s true,” you say, your voice steady despite your nerves. “I’ve been in Brazil for the past few months, under the protection of the Brazilian government.”

The questions come rapid-fire after that.

“Why did you leave the UK?”

“Are you and Lewis Hamilton really soulmates?”

“What does the royal family have to say about this?”

Lewis steps forward, his arm protectively around your waist. “We’ll be holding a press conference later to address all your questions. For now, we ask for your patience and understanding as we prepare for the race.”

As you continue through the paddock, you can’t help but think back on the tumultuous months that led to this moment ...

The first few weeks in Brazil had been a whirlwind of paperwork, security briefings, and adjusting to your new reality. You and Lewis had stayed in the safe house provided by the Brazilian government, venturing out only when necessary and always under heavy guard.

One morning, about a month into your stay, Dr. Santos had arrived with a grim expression.

“We’ve intercepted some concerning communications,” she had said, her usual calm demeanor tinged with worry. “It seems the British royal family has intensified their search for you, Y/N. They��re making threats.”

You had felt your heart drop. “What kind of threats?”

Dr. Santos had hesitated before answering. “They’re threatening to use their diplomatic influence to pressure Brazil into returning you. They’re also ... they’re suggesting that you might be mentally unfit, that you’ve been coerced or manipulated.”

Lewis had immediately pulled you close, his jaw clenched in anger. “They can’t do that. We won’t let them.”

“And we won’t,” Dr. Santos had assured you both. “Our stance on soulmate rights is non-negotiable. But I want you to be prepared. This might get ugly.”

And it had. Over the next few months, your family had tried everything. Diplomatic pressure, media manipulation, even attempts to infiltrate Brazilian government systems to locate you. But Brazil had stood firm, and you had remained safe.

A commotion near the Mercedes garage snaps you back to the present. You see a group of men in dark suits pushing their way through the crowd, their expressions grim and determined. Your blood runs cold as you recognize one of them — your father’s head of security.

“Lewis,” you whisper urgently, “they’re here.”

Lewis’ arm tightens around you as he quickly assesses the situation. “Stay calm. Remember the plan.”

As the men approach, the lead one steps forward, his voice loud and authoritative. “Your Royal Highness, by order of His Majesty the King, you are to return to the United Kingdom immediately.”

You feel all eyes on you, the paddock having gone deathly quiet. Taking a deep breath, you step forward, your voice clear and steady. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I am here of my own free will, protected by Brazilian law as the soulmate of a Brazilian citizen.”

The man’s expression hardens. “Your Highness, please don’t make this difficult. Your family is concerned for your well-being. They believe you may have been coerced or manipulated-”

“The only manipulation here,” Lewis interrupts, his voice sharp, “is coming from those who would separate soulmates for political gain.”

Just then, Dr. Santos appears, flanked by Brazilian officials. “Gentlemen,” she says coolly to the British security team, “I’m afraid you’re overstepping. Y/N is under the protection of the Brazilian government. Any attempt to remove her against her will would be considered means for an international incident.”

The head of security sputters, clearly not having expected this level of resistance. “This is a family matter-”

“No,” you interject, your voice stronger now. “This is a matter of human rights. The right to be with one’s soulmate. A right that Brazil recognizes and protects.”

Dr. Santos nods approvingly. “Furthermore, any claims of mental unfitness have been thoroughly disproven by independent psychiatric evaluation. Y/N is here of her own free will, in full possession of her faculties.”

The security team looks at each other uncertainly, clearly realizing they’re outmatched. The lead man makes one last attempt. “Your Highness, please. Your family misses you. They want you to come home.”

For a moment, you feel a pang of sadness for the life you left behind. But then you feel Lewis’ steady presence beside you, and you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

“I am home,” you say softly but firmly. “My home is with my soulmate, wherever that may be.”

The man opens his mouth to argue further, but Dr. Santos cuts him off. “Gentlemen, I believe it’s time for you to leave. Unless you’d like us to involve the authorities?”

Realizing they’re defeated, the security team begins to retreat. As they leave, you hear murmurs of admiration and support from the crowd that has gathered to watch the confrontation.

Lewis pulls you into a tight embrace. “You were amazing,” he whispers in your ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

As you pull back, you see reporters clamoring for comments, their cameras flashing incessantly. Dr. Santos steps forward to address them.

“A full press conference will be held later today,” she announces. “For now, I can confirm that Y/N, formally known as Her Royal Highness, is here legally and of her own free will as the soulmate of Lewis Hamilton. She is under the full protection of Brazilian law, and any attempts to interfere with their bond will be met with the full force of our legal system.”

As Dr. Santos continues to field questions, Lewis turns to you. “Are you okay?” He asks softly, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I’m more than okay. For the first time, I feel ... free.”

Lewis grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because we’ve got a race to win.”

As you make your way to the Mercedes garage, you’re overwhelmed by the support you receive. Team members, other drivers, and even fans call out words of encouragement.

“We’ve got your back, Y/N!”

“Love wins!”

“You show ‘em, Lewis!”

Inside the garage, the team greets you warmly. Toto approaches with a smile.

“Y/N, Lewis,” he says, shaking both your hands. “That was quite an entrance. Are you sure you’re up for all this today?”

You nod firmly. “Absolutely. It’s time to show the world that love doesn’t make you weak. It makes you stronger.”

Lewis beams at your words. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Now, let’s go win this race, yeah?”

As Lewis begins his pre-race preparations, you find a quiet corner to collect your thoughts. The events of the past few months flash through your mind — the fear, the uncertainty, but also the overwhelming love and support you’ve received.

You think about your family, about the life you left behind. There’s sadness there, but no regret. You’ve found something more precious than any crown — the freedom to love, to be yourself, to follow your heart.

A gentle hand on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts. You look up to see Lewis, now in his race suit, his helmet tucked under his arm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks softly.

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. How grateful I am for you, for Brazil, for everyone who’s supported us.”

Lewis leans into your touch, his eyes shining with emotion. “We’re the lucky ones, Y/N. To have found each other, to have this chance at happiness. And I promise you, I’ll spend every day making sure you never regret your choice.”

You stand, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I could never regret choosing you. You’re my soulmate, my home, my everything.”

As you lean in for a kiss, the garage erupts in cheers and whistles. You break apart, laughing, to see the entire team watching with grins on their faces.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Toto calls out good-naturedly. “Save it for after the race. Lewis, you’ve got a championship to chase.”

Lewis gives you one last quick kiss before pulling on his helmet. “Watch me fly, Princess,” he says with a wink.

As he heads out to the track, you take your place in the garage, surrounded by your new family — the team that has embraced you without question. You feel a sense of belonging, of purpose, that you’ve never experienced before.

The roar of engines fills the air as the race begins. You watch Lewis navigate the track with precision and skill, your heart swelling with pride and love. This is your life now — the excitement of race day, the thrill of competition, but most importantly, the joy of being with your soulmate.

As Lewis crosses the finish line in first place, the garage erupts in celebration. You rush out to meet him in parc fermé, not caring about protocol or propriety. Lewis sweeps you up in his arms, spinning you around as the crowd cheers.

In that moment, with the sun shining down and the sound of celebration all around, you know that you’ve made the right choice. This is where you belong — by Lewis’ side, free to love and be loved, ready to face whatever challenges come your way.

Together.

***

The familiar scent of motor oil and rubber fills the air as you step onto British soil for the first time in over a year. Silverstone buzzes with excitement, but you can’t shake the nervous energy coursing through your veins. Lewis’ hand finds yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You take a deep breath, nodding. “I think so. It’s just ... strange being back.”

Lewis pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Remember, you’re not alone. We’ve got security everywhere, and I’m right here with you.”

As if on cue, the head of your security team, a tall, no-nonsense woman named Maria, approaches. “Everything’s clear, Ms. Y/N. We’ve swept the entire area and have eyes on all entry points.”

You smile gratefully at her. “Thank you, Maria. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Maria’s stern expression softens slightly. “Just doing our job, ma’am. Your safety is our top priority.”

As you make your way through the paddock, you can’t help but notice the stares and whispers that follow you. Some are curious, others admiring, and a few ... less than friendly. But your security team forms a protective barrier around you and Lewis, keeping any potential trouble at bay.

“Y/N! Lewis!” A familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Fred Vasseur approaching, a warm smile on his face. “Welcome back to Silverstone. How are you holding up?”

“It’s ... intense,” you admit. “But I’m glad to be here, supporting Lewis.”

Fred nods understandingly. “Well, you’ve got the whole team behind you. Anyone gives you trouble, they’ll have to answer to all of Ferrari.”

As you continue through the paddock, greeting team members and other drivers, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. Not just by the curious onlookers, but by someone ... familiar.

That’s when you see him. Standing near the VIP area, looking as regal and composed as ever, is your brother.

Your heart skips a beat. You haven’t seen Edward since that fateful day you ran away. Lewis, sensing your tension, follows your gaze.

“Is that ...” he asks quietly.

You nod, unable to find words. Lewis turns to Maria. “Can you make sure we have a private moment?”

Maria nods, already signaling to her team. Within moments, they’ve created a small bubble of privacy around you and Edward.

Edward approaches slowly, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you both just stand there, years of unspoken words hanging between you.

Then, to your surprise, Edward’s composure cracks. His eyes fill with tears as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

“Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You cling to him, your own tears falling freely. “Eddie ... I’m so sorry I left without saying goodbye. I just ... I couldn’t ...”

Edward pulls back, holding you at arm’s length. His eyes roam your face, as if memorizing every detail. “Don’t apologize. Not ever. What you did ... Y/N, I am so incredibly proud of you.”

His words catch you off guard. “Proud? But I abandoned the family, my duties ...”

Edward shakes his head firmly. “You chose love. You chose happiness. You did what I was too weak to do.”

You glance at Lewis, who’s standing a respectful distance away, giving you this moment with your brother. “Edward, this is Lewis. My soulmate.”

Edward extends his hand to Lewis. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lewis. Thank you for protecting my sister and giving her the happiness she deserves.”

Lewis shakes his hand, his expression sincere. “The honor is mine, Your Highness. Y/N is the bravest, most amazing person I know. I’m just lucky to be part of her life.”

Edward’s smile is tinged with sadness. “Please, call me Edward. And you’re right, she is amazing. Always has been.”

You look at your brother closely, noticing the lines of stress around his eyes, the slight slump in his shoulders. “Eddie ... how are you? Really?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s ... not easy. The family is in turmoil after your departure. Father is furious, Mother is heartbroken, and I’m ... well, I’m trying to hold it all together.”

“And Lily?” You ask softly, referring to Edward’s soulmate. “Have you heard from her?”

Edward’s expression clouds over. “No. Not since ... not since that day.”

You take your brother’s hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s not too late, you know. You could still reach out to her.”

Edward laughs bitterly. “And say what? ‘Sorry I let them burn off my soulmate mark and married someone else. Want to grab coffee?’”

Lewis steps forward, his voice gentle but firm. “With all due respect, Your High- Edward, it’s never too late. The bond between soulmates ... it’s not something that can be erased, no matter what’s done to the physical mark.”

Edward looks at Lewis, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You really believe that?”

Lewis nods. “I do. Y/N and I found each other against all odds. Who’s to say you and Lily can’t do the same?”

You squeeze Edward’s hand again. “Eddie, you deserve to be happy. You deserve love. It’s not too late to choose yourself, to choose love.”

Edward looks torn, glancing around at the crowds, the cameras, the weight of expectation that’s always surrounded you both. “But the family ...”

“Will still be there,” you say softly. “But you’ll be facing them as your true self, with your soulmate by your side. It makes all the difference, trust me.”

Your brother is quiet for a long moment, clearly wrestling with years of ingrained duty and expectation. Finally, he looks up, a new determination in his eyes.

“You’re right,” he says, his voice growing stronger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve spent too long living for everyone else. It’s time I lived for myself.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “Does this mean ...”

Edward nods, a mix of fear and excitement in his eyes. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to find Lily. I’m going to make things right.”

You throw your arms around your brother, hugging him tightly. “I’m so proud of you, Eddie. And I’ll be here for you, every step of the way.”

As you pull back, you see tears in Edward’s eyes, but also a lightness that you haven’t seen in years. “Thank you. For showing me that it’s possible to choose love. For being brave enough to pave the way.”

Lewis steps forward, placing a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “If you need any help — legal advice, security, anything — just say the word. You’re family now.”

Edward looks at Lewis gratefully. “Thank you. I might just take you up on that.”

Just then, Maria approaches discreetly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to move. The press is getting restless.”

You nod, turning back to Edward. “Will you be okay?”

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “I will be. For the first time in a long time, I think I really will be.”

As you prepare to part ways, Edward pulls you in for one last hug. “I love you, little sister. Thank you for reminding me what’s truly important.”

“I love you too, Eddie,” you whisper back. “Go find your happiness. You deserve it.”

With one last squeeze, Edward steps back. As he walks away, you see him pull out his phone, a look of determination on his face. You have a feeling you know exactly who he’s about to call.

Lewis wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “You okay, love?”

You nod, wiping away a stray tear. “More than okay. I feel ... hopeful. For Eddie, for us, for everything.”

As you make your way back through the paddock, you’re struck by how different everything feels. The stares don’t bother you as much, the whispers fade into background noise. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, with the person you’re meant to be with.

“You know,” Lewis says as you reach the Ferrari garage, “I think I’m going to win this race.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smile playing on your lips. “Oh? And what makes you so sure?”

Lewis grins, pulling you close. “Because I’ve got my lucky charm by my side. How can I lose?”

You laugh, the sound light and free. “Well, in that case, you’d better not disappoint. I expect nothing less than a victory, Sir Hamilton.”

As Lewis leans in for a kiss, you’re vaguely aware of cameras flashing and people cheering. But none of that matters. What matters is this moment, this love, this life you’ve chosen.

You think back to a year ago, when you were terrified of finding your soulmate, of the consequences it would bring. Now, standing here at Silverstone, with Lewis by your side and the hope of your brother finding his own happiness, you realize that choosing love wasn’t just the brave choice.

It was the only choice.

As Lewis heads off to prepare for the race, you take your place in the garage. The roar of engines fills the air, and you feel a surge of excitement.

This is your life now. Supporting Lewis, championing love, and showing the world that sometimes, the greatest act of duty is being true to yourself.

As the race begins, you watch Lewis tear around the track, your heart swelling with pride and love. You may not wear a tiara anymore, but you’ve gained something far more precious — the freedom to love, to choose, to be yourself.

And as the chequered flag waves and Lewis crosses the finish line in first place, you know that this victory isn’t just his.

It’s yours. It’s Edward’s. It’s everyone who’s ever had the courage to choose love over duty, happiness over expectation.

As you rush to congratulate Lewis, wrapped in his arms as the crowd cheers, you know that this is just the beginning. There will be challenges ahead, obstacles to overcome. But with love by your side and the strength to be true to yourself, you’re ready to face whatever comes.

Because in the end, love always wins. And you? You’re living proof of that.

***

The warm Brazilian sun streams through the windows of the spacious beachfront home, filling the living room with a golden glow. The sound of children’s laughter mingles with the distant crash of waves, creating a symphony of domestic bliss.

You’re seated on the plush carpet, surrounded by an array of colorful toys. Your three-year-old daughter, Emilia, is busily stacking blocks, her little face scrunched in concentration. Across from you, Edward is attempting to wrangle his own two-year-old son, James, who seems more interested in knocking down Emilia’s creations than building his own.

“James, darling, let’s build our own tower, shall we?” Edward coaxes gently, redirecting his son’s attention.

You can’t help but smile at the scene. Five years ago, you never could have imagined this — you and Edward, raising your children together, free from the constraints of royal duty.

The sound of a door opening draws your attention. Lewis walks in, his arms full of grocery bags, closely followed by Lily.

“We come bearing snacks!” Lewis announces with a grin.

Emilia’s head snaps up at the sight of her favorite person. “Daddy!” She squeals, abandoning her blocks and running to Lewis.

Lewis sets down the bags just in time to scoop up his daughter, peppering her face with kisses. “Hello, my little racer. Have you been good for Mummy?”

Emilia nods enthusiastically. “I builded a big tower!”

“Built, sweetheart,” you correct gently, getting to your feet. “And it was a very impressive tower indeed.”

Lewis sets Emilia down and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “And how’s my other favorite girl doing?”

You smile, leaning into his embrace. “Better now that you’re home. How was the market?”

“Busy,” Lily chimes in, setting down her own bags. “But we managed to get everything on the list, plus a few extras.”

Edward stands, hoisting James onto his hip. “Extras, you say? Let me guess — more of those brigadeiros that you’re definitely not addicted to, right, love?”

Lily’s cheeks flush slightly as she laughs. “I plead the fifth. This baby wants what it wants.”

Your eyes light up at the reminder. Lily is five months pregnant with their second child, and you’re all buzzing with excitement.

“Speaking of the baby,” you say, moving to help unpack the groceries, “have you two decided if you’re going to find out the gender?”

Edward and Lily exchange a look. “We’re still debating,” Edward admits. “Part of me wants to know, but there’s also something nice about the surprise.”

Lewis chuckles, joining you in the kitchen. “I remember that debate. Though if I recall correctly, someone couldn’t handle the suspense and made me call the doctor at two in the morning to find out.”

You playfully swat his arm. “Hey, you were just as curious as I was!”

As you all work together to put away the groceries and prepare snacks for the kids, you’re struck by how natural this all feels. The easy banter, the shared responsibilities, the love that permeates every interaction. It’s a far cry from the rigid formality of your royal upbringing.

“You know,” Edward says, as if reading your thoughts, “sometimes I still can’t believe this is our life now.”

You nod, understanding completely. “I know what you mean. It’s so different from what we always thought our futures would be.”

Lily comes up behind Edward, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Different, but better, right?”

Edward turns, pulling her close. “Infinitely better. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

As you watch your brother with his soulmate, you feel a wave of happiness and gratitude wash over you. It hadn’t been easy for Edward to follow in your footsteps, to give up his place in the line of succession and choose love over duty. But seeing him now, so relaxed and genuinely happy, you know it was worth every struggle.

“Earth to Y/N,” Lewis’ voice breaks through your reverie. “Where’d you go just now?”

You smile, shaking your head. “Just thinking about how far we’ve all come. How different things could have been.”

Lewis nods, understanding in his eyes. “Do you ever regret it? Giving up your title, your life in England?”

You don’t hesitate for a second. “Never. This life, with you, with our family — it’s more than I ever dreamed possible.”

A sudden crash from the living room interrupts the moment. You all rush in to find James standing triumphantly atop a mountain of scattered blocks, while Emilia looks on in horror.

“James Edward Henry Albert Windsor!” Lily exclaims, trying to sound stern but failing to hide her amusement. “What have we said about destroying other people’s creations?”

James, looking not at all repentant, grins widely. “I king of the castle!”

Edward struggles to keep a straight face as he lifts his son off the block mountain. “Yes, well, kings should be builders, not destroyers. Let’s clean this up and then we can all build a castle together, okay?”

As you all pitch in to help clean up the blocks, Emilia tugs on your sleeve. “Mummy, will James be a real king someday?”

The question catches you off guard. You exchange a look with Edward, unsure how to explain the complicated reality of your family’s situation.

Lewis kneels down next to Emilia, his voice gentle. “No, sweetheart. James won’t be a king and you won’t be a princess. But that’s okay, because you get to be something even better.”

Emilia’s eyes widen with curiosity. “What’s that, Daddy?”

Lewis smiles, pulling her into a hug. “You get to be yourself. You get to choose who you want to be and what you want to do with your life. And that’s much more special.”

You feel tears prick at your eyes, overwhelmed by the simple beauty of Lewis’ words. This is why you left, why you chose this life. So that your children could have the freedom you and Edward never had growing up.

As the afternoon wears on, you all migrate to the back patio. The kids play in the sand under the watchful eyes of their parents, while you, Lewis, Edward, and Lily relax on the comfortable outdoor furniture.

“So,” Lily says, her hand resting on her growing belly, “have you two given any thought to expanding your own family?”

You and Lewis share a knowing look. “Actually,” you say, unable to keep the excitement from your voice, “we’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

Edward raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell, little sister.”

Lewis takes your hand, giving it a squeeze. “We’re thinking of adopting. There are so many children out there who need loving homes, and we have more than enough love to give.”

“That’s wonderful!” Lily exclaims, her eyes shining. “Oh, Emilia would love a little brother or sister.”

You nod, watching your daughter play. “We think so too. We’re just starting the process, but it feels right.”

Edward leans forward, his expression serious. “Have you thought about how this might affect things back in England? The press ...”

You sigh, having expected this question. “We have. And honestly, we’ve decided that it doesn’t matter what they think. This is our life, our family. We’re not going to let fear of judgment or outdated institutions dictate our choices anymore.”

Lewis nods in agreement. “We’ve already faced the worst they could throw at us. We came out stronger. Whatever comes next, we can handle it together.”

Edward’s serious expression melts into a proud smile. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry, old habits die hard I suppose. I’m thrilled for you both, truly.”

As the conversation flows, touching on everything from potential names for Lily and Edward’s baby to Lewis’ upcoming ambassador campaign, you’re struck by how perfectly imperfect this life is. It’s messy and chaotic at times, full of unexpected challenges and joy in equal measure. But it’s real, and it’s yours.

The sun begins to set, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. James and Emilia, tired from their day of play, curl up in their fathers’ laps. As you watch your brother gently stroke his son’s hair, you remember a conversation from years ago.

“Eddie,” you say softly, “do you remember what you told me the day they ... the day they burned off your soulmate mark?”

Edward looks up, his eyes clouding with the memory. “I told you that if you ever found your soulmate, you should run. Run far away and don’t look back.”

You nod, feeling Lewis’ arm tighten around you. “I’m so glad I took your advice. And I’m even more glad that you eventually followed it too.”

Edward smiles, looking down at James and then over at Lily. “So am I, Y/N. So am I.”

As the evening draws in, you all move inside. The kids are put to bed, their excited chatter about building sandcastles and racing cars fading into peaceful sleep. You, Lewis, Edward, and Lily settle in the living room, glasses of wine in hand (sparkling juice for Lily).

“A toast,” Lewis proposes, raising his glass. “To family, to love, and to the courage to choose our own path.”

“To freedom,” Edward adds, his eyes shining with emotion.

“To second chances,” Lily chimes in, her hand resting on her belly.

You raise your own glass, feeling a swell of emotion. “To us. All of us. And to the beautiful, chaotic, perfectly imperfect life we’ve built together.”

As you clink glasses, you catch Lewis’ eye. In that moment, you’re transported back to that day at Silverstone, when you first ran into each other. The fear, the excitement, the life-changing decision you made in an instant.

You wouldn’t change a thing.

As the night wears on and conversation flows freely, you realize that this — this warmth, this love, this freedom — this is what happily ever after really looks like. It’s not a fairy tale ending, but a beginning. A beginning of a life filled with love, choice, and the joy of being truly yourself.

And as you curl up in bed that night, Lewis’ arms around you and the sound of the ocean in the distance, you know that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Your family’s story is still being written. And you can’t wait to see what the next chapter brings.

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 10

READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS!

-This chapter is very heavy, but we’ll get you home, yeah?  -I’ve never written an action scene and action isn’t really my strong suit, so be kind please.  -So many military inconsistencies and just overall incorrect military vocabulary. I’m sorry. 

tw: hostage situation, torture, sensory deprivation, sexual harassment/abuse, battlefield type elements (ie: explosions, gunfire, little bit of murder)

Food was deposited in your cell again and while you were concerned with being poisoned, you were also starving and would be unable to fight back if you didn’t get some calories into your stomach. You ate the packaged items as you stared at the hot pasta, the granola bar turning to dust in your mouth as you grabbed the water and chugged down half of it. 

You didn’t stop counting though. When you reached 190,000, two days had passed since you’d been taken. You restarted at one, using your finger to drag through the grime on the wall and create another tally just above the top of the cot. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, able to see large shapes. 

Until they opened the door again and blinded you. 

Despite never being able to find him before, Moses’ compound was easy to locate. Well, the one in the UK anyways. Of course, it was a trap and the 141 knew this. It was too obvious. But the issue was in finding where they were keeping you and what the actual trap was. 

Another video dinged on the laptop, immediately garnering everyone’s attention as they huddled around the small screen. 

The lens was dirty, being wiped clean by Moses’ sleeve. As he backed away with a wicked smile and a small knife dangling from his fingers, he revealed you behind him and your current situation. Tied to a chair, cloth in your mouth and tied around your head. That wasn’t what had the team concerned. It was the rivulets of blood that trailed from the clean, shallow cut across the front of your throat. 

“You boys better hurry up. I might decide that I prefer her dead. She does look so pretty covered in her own blood.” Moses came to stand behind you, lifting your head and pulling your hair back from the wound on your neck. “Do you think they’ll come to save you, precious? I think they will. Too bad they won’t make it.” Your eyes opened wide as you found the camera, shaking your head in a panic. In your mind, if you died, they would move on. But you couldn’t bear the thought of a world without them in it. Then the screen cut to black. 

“Fuck, he’s going to kill her just to get under our skin,” Johnny anquishly moaned out, his fingers pulling at the cropped mohawk on his head. Simon’s fingers slid over the other man’s, gripping them tight in his fist and pulling them away from the delicate hair. “We’ll find her and we’ll end this,” Simon grunted, looking down at the sergeant. 

“Alright boys, let’s get our girl back.” 

The slice to your throat stung, burning as your blood now dribbled from the wound as it dried up. You’d expected to be sent back to your cell, but was instead taken to another room. Two women stood in the back, holding garments of clothing and medical supplies as you were shoved into the room and the door locked behind you. 

They were silent as they cleaned you up, getting a bandage on your throat and unzipping your pretty dress just to shove you into a scratchy beige shirt and black cargo pants. Ones that matched every other person you’d seen in this camp. They wanted you to blend in, harder to find that way, you supposed.  

When the door opened again, it was Moses. Leering at you as he came to circle your weak body, hand on his chin with the other on his elbow as he inspected you. “You clean up so nicely, my dear. Though I will miss that pretty dress of yours, made these look oh so delectable,” his words only cut through the static in your head when his hands groped your breasts from behind. Your elbow then met his ribs only for his fist to come down on the back of your neck and force you to your knees.

“Little bitch thinks she can fight,” your captor growled, lifting your chin just to let his fist collide with your temple. Two more hits to the side of the face and you finally crumpled on the ground as he dusted off his pants and made for the door. “Leave her here. She can die with her beloved boys,” he commanded the other women, who scurried behind him as he sneered down at you before slamming and locking the door. 

At least, you could see where you were now as you started counting again.

The sky was dark, not a star in sight as the clouds covered them with their looming grayness. Coming up from the back of the compound, they split into three groups; Price with Johnny, Simon with Kyle, and the third team of specialists to extract Moses. It was quiet and they were silent as they took down the scattered guards. 

With the path cleared, Ghost and Kyle slipped into the darkness where intel told them the cells were. Price and Johnny disappeared into another building that could possibly be holding you, while the third team slipped out into the darkness in search of Moses. 

That’s when the first boom rocked the earth. “Bravo-6, do you copy?” Simon’s hushed whispers filled the silence of the cell they were standing in. “Soap, the hell was that?” Price’s voice cut through the static of their radios. “Detonation. He’s going to blow the compound with us in it.” 

Another boom rocked the ceiling and then the entrance to the cells collapsed with Simon and Kyle inside. Coms were suddenly cut as the building Price and Johnny were in shuddered with another boom. 

You felt it too and were suddenly very much aware that you needed to get up and try to get out. You tried the door, tugging on it but of course, it was locked. You started banging on it when the next boom came and you wondered how many buildings had been taken out already as the one you were in shuddered and a wall blew out next to you. Taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you scurried out the hole the explosion created and headed for the stairs, taking two at a time. 

Price and Johnny were working through the levels, clearing the building as smatterings of people ran past them. Innocents. Civilians that Moses had kidnapped to fill the compound. All dressed in scratchy beige and black cargo. In your hurry to get out of the building, you ran smack into Price who grunted, staring down at the apparent civilian that had tried to plow through him. 

“Please don’t hurt me!” You cried, covering your face and cowering on the landing. But the pain never came. Just arms wrapping around you and lifting you to your feet. Fingers and a thumb pinched your chin, lifting your face to meet the man’s eyes you ran into. “They really did a number on you, little bird. Let’s get you home, yeah?” Price’s eyes burned into yours and you couldn’t help the sob that tore from you as you nodded in response. If you’d not literally run into him, you’d have been lost in the sea of civilians trying to find safety.

Getting back to the extraction point had been difficult. An explosion blasted apart a building the three of you were next to and unfortunately for you, you’d been in the path of a rather large piece of wall that knocked you out. When Price, Johnny, and your unconscious body met only Kyle at the extraction point, you were left in the care of Laswell who waited in the helicopter.

Meanwhile, Simon and Kyle were digging themselves out of the cells. The explosions that had followed the one that caved in the entrance had created a small hole big enough for Kyle to get through, but Simon, the massive man he was, wouldn’t fit without making it bigger. So Kyle dug from the outside and Simon from the inside. Finally, when it was big enough, Simon started to haul himself through the hole, only for another explosion to collapse it around him.

God, this is so not the story I'd intended to write, but this is where the muse led me.

Thank you to everyone who keeps supporting this series!

[dollsinvogue]

Monster High Clawdia Wolf dress » Hervé Léger bandage wrap dress

Credit to @carleym19618673 for finding this!

They also pointed out that this dress was worn by Nadine Coyle from Girls Aloud (an English girl band) on the Graham Norton show, and it makes sense that Clawdia would be inspired by UK celebrities as she is studying in Londoom.

Clawdia picture credit

[storeecbrcod]

Whump Drabble/fic where Soap suffers realistic trauma from MWIII (though we’ll put a bandaid over his ultimate fate lol).

TW: explicit medical injuries and treatments, angst with a bittersweet ending, will likely be inaccurate in some way seeing as I’m not a medical professional nor a trauma doctor/nurse (I’m just a girl fr), Ghoap✨

Ghost had been wrangling with this worm of guilt that chewed at his heart, something that he thought he had grown accustom to over his life but was now back with a vengeance. When he wasn’t clawing his skin from his bone to try and find the fucker, he was with Johnny.

He had thought the hardest part of this would be overcoming that guilt, but he quickly realised the coma was much worse.

He’d followed soldiers after they’d suffered significant GSW trauma before, of course he had. He’d caused many himself, knew how to engineer one that would guarantee a kill, knew how impossible it seemed yet possible it was to survive a shot to the temple, nearly point blank. He knew what recovery entailed.

Yet, he didn’t know what recovery entailed when it made the soft birdsong in his life silent and still.

He was a sniper and a stealth operative, he was used to sitting in one place during recon, unmoving and hyperaware for hours on end, days or weeks or even months at a time.

Yet, he wasn’t used to searching for a heartbeat and willing it to keep going rather than aiming to stop it.

He’d never felt so restless in his life, cataloguing every detail of the man on the bed in front of him every day. He watched as bandages turned red, watched as the side of his head swelled and bruised and went so black it was like staring into space. He read the words ‘Pressure relief DO NOT TOUCH’ scribbled on the vacuum-sealed, open wound on the back of a window in his skull over and over and over until swelling bowed the dressing and the words didn’t make sense.

He watched air be pumped through tubes down his throat when his brain couldn’t do it for him, and saw urine pool in a bag next to the bed. He watched nurses exercise his body, watched the shut door as they cleaned him up with sponge baths. He’d watched the codes be called and watched from outside the room as ribs were broken in the frail, pale body that was a fifth of the size it used to be and void of the usual tan.

He watched it all. He watched everything.

Just watched.

He knew people in comas could often hear what’s going on around them, he’d learnt that when he rushed Tommy to the hospital after a particularly bad overdose. But it was like his lips were fused together, vocal cords totally lax and frozen. He couldn’t speak, wouldn’t speak, scared of what would tumble from his tongue and leave in the open when Johnny couldn’t even respond.

Spontaneity was a common tactic on the field, as much as they tried to negate it. It wasn’t very often a plan went totally right. Damage control and problem solving were heavily exercised skills that Ghost possessed.

But he couldn’t solve this. He could wish death on Makarov as much as he did before, he could research the best trauma surgeons and doctors and nurses and therapists in the UK, he could monitor Johnny’s condition obsessively all he wants, but he can’t fix it. He can’t heal the snapped neurons, he can’t dig into Johnny’s veins and fish out the blood clots that continued to threaten his life or limbs. He couldn’t crawl into John’s skin and nest there in his warmth, protect him and feel protected. He couldn’t.

Helplessness wasn’t something he’d felt in a long time, but he’d much rather be clawing out of his own grave as ravens cawed again than have to put John in one, still and unable to dig to join Simon.

So when Soap eventually does wake, it felt like an endless tunnel came to an abrupt end with blinding lights and trees, waiting for birds to call their greeting.

He made his own greeting, his imposing yet solid presence next to the bed as tubes were removed and the body was propped up and assurances were given. He was eager, after 4 months of pure silence about to be filled with music again.

But it was off key.

“Where am I?”

“Hospital, Johnny.”

A furrowed brow.

“Who th’ fuck ah you?”

Simon thought that the worst part of all this was the coma, the silence, but he was wrong. It was the recovery.

Simon had learnt that the temple was the perfect place to locate the parts of the brain responsible to speech, decision making and rationalisation, and memory. He’d learnt how irritating it could be re-explaining the same thing over and over every few minutes could be, he learnt of the shame that followed the irritation knowing that Soap couldn’t help it. He learnt how much it hurt to be escorted out of the room for routine check-ups because the once unrelenting trust between him and Johnny had relented to the shadow of unknown.

He had learnt that nothing is permanent.

His visits became less and less. Unsurprisingly, John (not Johnny; only his family calls him that) didn’t want a mountain of a man, full of angst and anger and sadness, haunting the corners of his hospital room. He only wanted his ma and pa, and as much as it hurt Ghost, he respected his wishes.

For months, Ghost isolated himself, got lost in his work. For months, John worked at recovery, regaining his smart mouth and witty remarks, slowly relearning his impulse control that wasn’t really as much control as it was pure will power to restrain himself.

For months, Ghost sought birdcall in the gurgles of his enemies’ throats, revelling in the garbled melodies that never matched the one he remembered, but breaking off just the same.

Beware the mockingbird, Johnny would say.

Yet here he was, searching for a blue jay’s song among the mouths of the unknown and wicked.

He got so used to the warped record that he often found himself forgetting what the original chords sounded like when they reverberated through his chest, right to his heart. Was it sweet, like the pull of a blade through supple skin? Was it explosive, like the crack of body armour in the gap between Kevlar plates? Was it deafening, like the rounds discharged that aimed for his heart?

Was it quiet, like an unmonitored heartbeat over nighttime?

Was it gentle, like the lingering touches left on his waist that still burned his skin months later?

Was it still there?

“Simon.”

Ghost blinked, looking up to Price. He hadn’t realised that he’d let his gaze wander, his mind even further.

“You need to go see him.”

There’s a cry of a broken-winged dove in his ears, overshadowed by the croon of a raven. Stability and chaos, broken and mended in one.

It hurt his head.

“He asked me to leave,” Ghost reasoned.

“When he first woke up, yes,” Price conceded. “Back when you honoured your callsign very proficiently, mind you.”

A scoff erupted from Ghost’s chest, under his crossed arms.

“Look, Simon,” Price sighed, leaning back against his desk, blue eyes of cobalt melting the sulphurous gleam of Ghost’s brown ones. “He remembers, now. Remembered Gaz in a matter of moments, recognised me soon after.”

There was a pause, pregnant and heavy as Ghost kept his mouth shut, luring Price to continue. Daring him to try and push past the raven’s sharp talons to help the dove.

A hand reaches towards the nest.

“It might be time for you to try again.”

The raven hesitates.

“The hospital staff spoke to us about how helping Soap’s brain reconnect the broken neural pathways from the trauma could help him recover faster.”

The dove coos.

“Please, Simon.”

Outstretched fingers.

“Fuck, I can’t watch two of my men crumble at the same time.”

A flurry of feathers, the screeching of breath through gravel, rubber on road, nails on chalkboard. It’s overwhelming, sending his heart into overdrive and rationality to the wind.

“Fuck you, Price.”

Yeah, the recovery hurt the most.

Looking in the mirror during recovery, specifically, hurt like a bitch. Scars that pulled over once unmarred skin, hollow cheeks where laughter and smiles once grew, gnarled soul and memories where purity reigned. It was all thrown back at you, as insistent as a murder of crows at your doorstep.

He could see the way John, not Johnny, sifted through his memory like a locked filing cabinet while trying to place Ghost, desperately searching through the unlocked drawers over and over for the file he needed, all while the closed drawers taunted him with kept knowledge. It was all right there, yet he couldn’t access it.

“Ghost, aye?”

It’s met with a grunt. Silence stretches out, black feathers shielding the delicate white ones.

“And ye were my… lieutenant?”

He was going off of information fed to him, his brow furrowed in concentration, still trying to place Ghost. He couldn’t tell where the darkness around him ended and Ghost started, obscured by inky blackness.

He doesn’t sound right. It’s not the same teasing, playful lilt that danced in the air. It’s not pronounced the same, not said the same, it’s not the same.

It’s some… imposter. Something that looks the same and smells the same and tastes the fucking same, but it’s different.

A cuckoo’s egg in a nest.

“Price ‘nd Kyle were telling me some stories about ye,” John noted with a small smile. “You’re quite the stunner out field, ‘pparently.”

It’s an olive branch, a bridge built half way. An offering to meet in the middle, to talk and revere and remember.

But Ghost didn’t remember, and neither did John.

Recovery never ends, you know. It goes on and on and on, haunting your nerves and your wits for the rest of your life. You’ll always have some sort of ache or pain, a reminder of what happened to you.

John never ended up recovering fully. He was medically discharged, left to nurse a broken cage and a silent heart. He did well, considering; it wasn’t hard when you didn’t remember the song that beat with the rhythm of your heart.

He still joined the team on outings sometimes, staying in a local hotel when everyone was back at base. They’d have a meal, or go to a pub, catch up. Re-establish connections once lost.

Ghost rarely joined them, to save his own torment.

But of course, he had to honour the dove occasionally. Just as he was now, sitting across the table from the lively Scot and with his two other teammates, Gaz and Price. Beers had been served, a single glass of warm whiskey for cold hands. The table was lively, fun, rambunctious in all the best ways.

The cuckoo had hatched in earnest, Ghost found.

It was easy to see the progress John had made, loud and bright and cheeky like he used to be. Demanding of attention, hungry for every scrap of past he could swallow to try and heal old wounds. Listening to stories about himself and his old crew when they were all together, as if it was another version of him. The right version of him.

And by god, were the scraps from Simon the most nourishing of all.

John’s mouth felt desert dry, cactus dust caking his tongue as he bit desperately into every glimpse of Ghost’s bare face, lips wrapped around glass and breath smelling of potent, liquid gold with every word. It hurt, it tasted awful, and it was impossible to rid himself from. It hurt so good, feeling his heart pull and swell in ways he didn’t understand anymore.

He felt like glass, he felt like the air, he felt like expensive liquor, he felt like it was meant to be him in their places, held and touched and breathed and consumed. It was overwhelming, leaving him starstruck and staring, a flutter in his chest reawakened.

Ghost’s own nest was erupting with displaced wind, white wings desperate to spread and carry it away, escape the raven’s hold. Right now, meeting Johnny’s eyes, he realised that the time spent captive in the nest had only lent to the dove’s healing. It was stronger now, bigger and fiercer and so, so hopeful.

The cuckoo cackled, loud and leering. Mockingbirds whistled and cawed, off key and haunting. The raven keened, shaken and damning.

The white dove flew.

The blue jay sang above the bramble.

And the two nested together, among the dappled branches of a birchwood tree, cool and calm and surrounded by colour year round. Above the bramble of the past.

Ghost had learnt one thing over everything else; a lesson that was recurrent in his life, stubborn and overwhelming. It swallowed him in waves, crashing him into the sand bank below.

Nothing is ever, ever permanent.

Admittedly, his retirement had gone well. The down payment was easy, the renovations smooth, moving in a sigh of relief. They’d have their harder days, where getting out of bed and walking without aid was difficult for Johnny, but they’d have their good days, too. They’d have their days where they’d go for walks across the countryside, watch as their service dog bounced around through tall grass, tongue lolling from her mouth.

They’d have quiet days, relaxing days. They’d have loud days, rough days.

But they were all days where the sun would rise and then set.

They were all days when the blue jay sang.

Simon had forgotten silence. His life was filled with sound, and love, and content.

Maybe… maybe the worst part of it all was loss.

Maybe the worst part of it all was the unmoving body, still warm.

Maybe the worst part of it all was the frantic screams that drowned out the silence.

Maybe the worst part of it all was the silence.

Silence.

A/N: bandaids don’t last forever

Idk if this is coherent or cohesive or any other co-words meaning readable and enjoyable. Maybe I’ll rewrite it, who knows. Probably not, I can’t post consistently as it is lmao

[silawastaken]

i was wondering what Dazai and Chuuya would wear in your au? I'm talking about the (not so) perfect pair btw.

(This is totally not for fanart)

AAAAAA FANART????? (im autistic and sarcasm is not my strong suit for this stuff, and I'll feel real stupid if this isn't real but OH MY GOD I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER)

And my GOD have I thought about this. It is currently 10:03PM and I have school tomorrow, lets see how long this takes me.

Right- Generally speaking, any chapter they're in school, they're wearing a uniform. Most of this stuff is based on what I know from the uk so 💀 yeah, it's a school uniform. That means, a collared short sleeve shirt, red tie(honestly it doesn't need to be red, I just randomly picked one), and black trousers.

Chuuya's wardrobe I feel would consist of patched denim shorts and jeans, jeans probably ripped at the knees. Dark colours mainly for other types of trousers, think black and greyish.

T-shirts, second hand band tees that are probably a little worn mostly, his parents do well but he isn't rich + he's a middle child, he probably doesn't own a lot of first hand clothing. I'd say oversized flannel or tartan shirts, either worn loosely over shirts or tied around his waist(Think very grungy. It's getting into summer, so tied around his waist is more likely)

The big thing is that most of the time so far, unless he's at school he's been wearing the hoodie Dazai gave him(black + red stitching, detailed better in the actual fic😔), so it'd make sense for him to be wearing it, unless at school, or post his parents finding out.

Generally, he's rather grunge but put together, he looks nice, and generally presentable.

DAZAI HOWEVER, LIVES OFF HIS BEDROOM FLOOR.

While Dazai has clothes, he doesn't actually wear much of them. With Dazai, I think black or tan trousers when he's not in uniform, the same two pairs. The black ones more commonly, so probably more worn.

If Chuuya would wear the t-shirt, Dazai would too. Generally, I think most of the t-shirts Dazai would wear would be stolen from Chuuya, so yeah! If Chuuya'd wear it, Dazai would.

Same with hoodies, but obvs Dazai is slightly different. Generally with dressing Dazai/his clothes, this au Dazai is still in his emoish phase, so stick to black and earth tones- blue, green, brown.

A few extra details!!! I've never said it explicitly, but Dazai isn't wearing bandages over his face, just his neck and arms. Chuuya's ears are also pierced, Kouyou got him earrings for his birthday. How many piercings that is? Idc go wild bro's sixteen and his parents are rather chill, he probably has a few. I don't know if this is the level of detail you were looking for, but for Chuuya, with shoes I'd say boots or like converse. For Dazai- it's actually specified that he wears a pair of like BATTERED high top black converse so :D

I feel it's fair to mention that Dazai and Chuuya are still rather rough and tumble teens, they're both depressed as shit rn and not going out to cause chaos like they normally would- but they still dress like they're prepared too. So a little unkempt and scruffy is a fairly accurate department of how they likely look half the time.

It is 11:08 and has been an hour, so I should probably stop agonising over this but this was a LOT of detail sorry if it still wasn't enough, or wasn't what you were looking for :(( BUT HAVE FUN WITH THIS INFO.

[burninglights]

seeing some of you getting snotty about people not having first aid kits & first aid training without advising people on what they should have/what they should know is doing my nut in. without further ado:

First Aid Kits (what should be in yours)

If you’re going to uni/moving out of home, you really ought to have a first aid kit. Small first aid kits are fairly inexpensive and come with basic first aid supplies.

Included in my first aid kit is:

1 card of paracetamol tablets

1 card of ibuprofen tablets

A length of gauze bandage

1 tube of topical antiseptic (I use Savlon or Germolene)

1 tube arnica/bruise cream

30x plasters, assorted sizes

5x long strip plasters

10x antiseptic wipes

3x individually sealed small sterile gauze pads (7cm x 7.5cm)

4 sterile small adhesive dressings (7cm x 5.3cm)

it’s a good idea to also have an emergency card in your first aid kit, with the contact details for your next of kin and any health conditions written on it. They usually come as part of first aid kits anyway, and have a little clear plastic pocket to keep them in.

Also, remember to replenish whatever you use from your kit, and to keep an eye on expiration dates of medications/ointments.

Medication management

If you’re on medication long term (antipsychotics, antidepressants, statins, anticonvulsants, immunosuppressants, insulin etc.) you should have a two week overlap period; where possible, you should order a refill of your medication two weeks before your current supply runs out, so that if there are supply issues, you’re not going to be left hanging.

I’m aware this might not be possible for Americans owing to insurance and reassessment (I’m UK based, and just have to refill by filling out a form available in my GP’s office) and for those on controlled medications (opiates, methadone treatment for addiction, ADHD meds etc).

If you have medication that only requires use in emergent circumstances (ie. an EpiPen or an asthma inhaler), keep track of the expiration dates, and order a refill of your medication ahead of time. Better to have an extra inhaler knocking about for a couple of weeks than to really need one and not have it.

First Aid for Dummies & How to Get First Aid Training

Aif you’re ‘fresh out the womb’ new to first aid, or live somewhere where medical care is inaccessible, I highly recommend Where There Is No Doctor by David Werner and Carol Thuman, which gives step by step guides from scratches, scrapes and rashes up to emergent wound care. It’s not an exaggeration to say that that book kept me and my siblings alive for the first few years of our existencewhen we lived on the edge of the Kalahari 120 miles from the nearest hospital.

few bits and pieces of first aid I’ve picked up, both from training and being the world’s clumsiest son of a bitch:

Z-wrapping for wrists and ankles, especially if you’re prone to sprains. I don’t know how to explain this in a coherent way, so I’ve linked a video of how to do it.

For deep cuts or wounds that bleed a lot, you need to apply pressure and elevate the injury above the heart. It takes a nearly comically small amount of blood loss to become life threatening (blood loss equivalent to half a coke can is considered life threatening in adults) - if the blood is bright red, spurting/gushing, and the blood loss is uncontrolled, or if you have a clotting condition like haemophilia, you need to get to an urgent care centre yesterday. Call 999/911, maintain hard pressure over the wound, and keep the person calm and talking.

If someone has been stabbed an the knife is still in situ, for the love of God do not pull out the knife, or let them pull out the knife. It’s impossible to know what’s been hit without imaging, the knife acts as a seal in the wound; haemorrhage or massive internal injury are not situations you want to be dealing with outside of an acute trauma care setting. Call 999/911 immediately, and keep the injured person calm.

Learn how to recognise the signs of overdose. I went to a Midlands uni that had a reputation as a party uni, and hearing through the grapevine about ODs on nights out wasn’t uncommon. Narcan/Naloxone is a controlled substance in the UK so can’t be bought OTC, but I know it’s available to buy OTC in some parts of America and Canada. If you can, please consider carrying naloxone. If you witness an OD, call 999/911 immediately, and try to keep the person alert. If you have it, administer Narcan.

Don’t fuck with sepsis or meningitis. These diseases move fast, and can turn you into a past participle in as little as 12 hours. Get your MenACWY vaccine, know the symptoms, and call 999/911 immediately if you have the symptoms, especially if there’s been an outbreak in your area or you’ve had close contact with someone who is infected.

If you get bitten by a wild animal, (fox, bat, dog, raccoon…whatever) flushing the wound with water and then getting to A&E needs to become your number one priority. Tetanus, rabies and capnocytophaga infection are no joke: you need boosters/antibodies and antibiotics as a matter of urgency.

Finally, don’t be a hero. You are not John Wick. If someone is injured in an actively dangerous location or situation, the only thing you ought to do is call 999.

You really and truly don’t need to be able to pull a Hawkeye Pierce; the whole point of first aid is that it’s the first line of aid, and gets you to A&E or Minor Injuries so that you can receive professional medical attention.

That said, having a first aid training is incredibly valuable, both because you never know when some fuck shit is about to happen, and because by law most workplaces are supposed to have at least one first aider on staff, so it gives your CV an edge.

In the UK, the St. John Ambulance Trust offers workplace first aid certification, annual refreshers, sports first aid training, AED use & CPR certification and mental health first aid training.

You can also get personal first aid training for adults, children and babies with the British Red Cross for the cost of £37.50, as well as certified workplace first aid certification from £165.

The British Heart Foundation offer CPR training for free via their RevivR program; it takes 15 minutes, and can be used for workplace certification.

[katyawriteswhump]

Steddie holiday drabble: Dirty Little Secret

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 11 prompt, Royal AU (also boarding school AU--whoops!)

When Steve is sent to school in the UK, he hates everything about it. Apart from the hot guy who lurks in the shadows and seems to get away with anything he likes…

Rating: T

CW: corporal punishment, bullying, cultural prejudices, swearing. Tags: hurt/comfort, whump, fluff. WC: 979

***

From the moment Steve arrived at that creepy castle-come-college, he couldn’t do anything right. 

“You’re using the wrong spoon, Harrington,” sneered some stuck-up idiot, at Steve’s first mealtime in the vast, mediaeval-style hall.

“He wouldn’t know,” jeered another. “Americans scoff cow-pie with their fingers.”

“Hilarious,” snarked Steve. “If I’m using the wrong spoon, how come you’re the one who’s drooled soup down their tie?”

A shout of “Touché!” broke the loaded silence. 

Steve spotted the shouter sitting alone on an otherwise empty table. He flashed Steve a grin which was… Woah! Not actively hostile? And kinda cute.

The kid beside Steve tugged his hair: “Has nobody invented scissors on your side of the pond? Matron’s going to scalp you, mark my word.”

“He’s got longer hair than me.” Steve pointed to the boy sitting alone. 

“He’s not an ignorant little yank with no manners.”

“Oh, sod off.” Steve had mastered some of the lingo.

In the dorm later, somebody stole Steve’s blankets from his bed. After a night shivering, he wore the wrong sneakers—sorry, trainers!—to gym class.

The teacher didn’t let him change into boots. Steve slipped endlessly on the muddy rugby field. The only rule he fathomed was that it was fine for any bastard to dump their butt on his face. Afterwards, the teacher summoned Steve to his office.

Steve mumbled: “What’ve I done now?”

Seriously, this son-of-bitch should worship Steve! If he had the right kit—and knew the rules—he bet he could whip some serious rugby ass.

“Hold out your hand.”

“Why?”

“Don’t be insolent. Do it. Palm downward.”

Steve obeyed, flexing his fingers apprehensively. The teacher produced a wooden cane. Steve’s blood jumped. “No, no, no, no. I’ll watch my mouth. Wear the right shit… uh, kit. Please!”

“You’ve earned five. One more word, it’ll be ten. On your rear.”

Steve battled his panic, fretted his lip. The cane came lashing down, razing a fiery trail across his hand. He smothered a whimper, swallowed bile. By the fifth strike, his knees had turned to jello. His hand was red, his knuckles puffy with one split.

“You’re dismissed, Harrington.”

He drifted mindlessly through the showers, got dressed, wandered out, cradling his hand. Totally lost, he encountered his hated dining companions:

“His socks are falling down! He’s so stupid, he can’t hook his suspenders.”

Steve was terrified of losing his shit, giving these dickheads the triumph of seeing how badly he was hurting, how horribly alone he felt. So…

Steve shoved the lead bully, who crashed onto their butt.  “What moron’s wear sock suspenders? Screw the lot of you!” 

Steve could’ve handled any one of them; with wrecked knuckles, though, no way could he handle six. He wound up curled in a ball, enduring a brutal kicking. As the blows kept coming, he sank beyond wretched, losing his fight against furious tears.  A shout interrupted: “Hey, scumbags—scoot! NOW!”

The kicking stopped. Steve curled even tighter. Everything hurt, his head pounded, and he tasted blood. A gentle touch on his shoulder made him flinch: “Hey, are you alright?”

Steve swiped his damp cheekbones, peeped up. His rescuer was the boy who dined alone, with the cute smile and long, unruly hair. Up close, his brown eyes were mesmerising… and kind.

“Come on, you.”

Dazed, Steve let the other boy help him up. He took him to the matron, who seemed oddly nervous at their arrival. Steve perched on the edge of a bed, while his knuckles were bandaged, his other wounds tended. The other boy—Steve still didn’t know his name—held ice to Steve’s swollen brow till Steve’s uninjured hand stopped trembling enough to hold it himself.

“You can go, Matron,” said the boy. She obeyed. With a curtsy! These Brits sure were odd. Steve was still hurting badly, still furious at the whole world. Yet, now they were alone, he longed to throw his arms around this other boy and sob shamelessly. He was so mixed up.

“Steven Harrington, right? The US envoy’s son?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Eddie. Can I call you Steve? The surname crap makes us sound like a load of wankers. Which, let’s face it, most kids in this dump are.”

“No shit.” Steve chuckled, which made his face ache. 

“Besides, it’s hopeless for me.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Nobody dares say it.” Eddie leaned closer and his adorable grin spread slowly. “I’m the illegitimate son of the Duke of Cumbria.”

“He’s a prince! So you’re—”

“A dirty royal secret.” Eddie jokily pressed a finger to his lips, which Steve couldn’t stop staring at. Steve’s heart hammered like he’d met the Stones or the Beatles. Though, Eddie was the opposite of famous: “This dustbin has hid little secrets like me for centuries. I still get MI5 protection, if needed, and… nobody dares lay a finger on me. Or my chums. Not that I have any, because—”

“—they’re all complete wankers?”

“You’re fluent already, Stevie.” Stevie? Steve blushed and looked away. Eddie tenderly cupped Steve’s chin and turned his face back, tugging a slight smile from Steve, in defiance of his split lip. Eddie grinned all the harder.

The ‘dirty secret’ didn’t just get his own table. He got his own spacious dorm room. Steve moved his stuff in two days later, to find Eddie in a different mode—twitchy and bashful, endlessly fiddling with his hands. “Thanks,” murmured Eddie, as if Steve had done him the favour.

“Woah. That’s my line, right?”

“No. Look, I need to get this out.” Eddie paced, folded his arms. Unfolded them again. “I’m gay, Steve. And I like you. I’m not going to press myself on you or anything, but… It’s okay to have second thoughts. I can arrange for you to have a separate room, if you prefer.”

Steve shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “No sweat, Eds.”

He only hoped it wouldn’t be too long before his almost-prince stole a kiss. 

***

Thanks for reading :)

[jackiehicks]

‘Family’

Spyder Johnson x Platonic!reader

request: none! this came from my very own brain.

A/N: happy birthday pearce!! it’s officially september 6th in the uk so i’m posting a piece about my favourite pearce character (sorry wyatt) i have had this idea in my head for literally a year now and it feels so good to put it into words. this is also Heavy on the ‘projecting onto my oc’ thing so sorry about that. enjoy!!

content warning: mentions of bad home life, homelessness, potentially death? injury, etc.

words: 1.8k

“sorry im late!” y/n shouted as the elevator door opened, then realising she did not need to be shouting, “sorry i’m late.”

“you’re good, y/n, no worries. we wouldn’t start without you anyway.” veracity reassured her.

y/n was the medic of mech x-4. she was still relatively new to the team, having only joined a few weeks ago alongside her best friend veracity. the other guys said it was good to have a designated medic on the team; usually harris would do it all, but if harris got hurt then the others were generally a bit clueless. y/n was tight with the team since the boys transferred to bay city east - especially spyder. the two sort of understood eachother in ways that the rest of the team didn’t quite catch on to.

“yeah, we literally couldn’t start without you. ryan isn’t here yet, or mark. and we’re testing the x-weapon today so you need to be here in case ryan explodes.” spyder explained to y/n. he received a look of concern from the rest of the team, y/n included.

“not that he’s gonna explode,” spyder corrected himself hastily, “i just mean like… what if he gets a nosebleed or a… a brain bleed! no, that’s also bad. yep, ignore me. giving you permission to ignore me now.”

“whatever happened to positive mental attitude?” harris muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disappointment. spyder looked dejectedly at the buttons in front of him. y/n had noticed that he seemed to do that a lot.

“hey,” she whispered to the boy on her left, “5 bucks says ryan gets zapped by the x-weapon’s power.” that seemed to perk spyder up by a lot.

“10 says he gets fried”

-

to say the x-weapon test went poorly would be an understatement. ryan and mark showed up, about 20 minutes after the team had arranged to, with their mother in tow. after a tour of the robot, plus a quick joyride just outside of bay city’s limits, the test begun. not only did it almost blow veracity up, but the test had ended with ryan unconscious in the harness with a sizeable cross burnt into his chest.

everyone was in the medbay, y/n running a scan on ryan’s injuries. luckily, the burns weren’t too severe; the x-weapon had been shut down just in time.

“he needs to go to a hospital!” grace exclaimed, worry wrinkling her face.

“no! no hospitals. besides, y/n is more than qualified to attend to ryan’s injuries.” leo countered.

“y/n is 16! what medical qualifications could she possibly have?”

“uh, my mom’s a veterinarian?” y/n admitted, unsure of how grace would react.

“oh, great. that’s just wonderful. i need to take my son to a hospital!”

“mom, i’m fine. please.” ryan pleaded.

“no. you will not argue with me on this. get up, we’re going. mark, you’re coming too.”

the walkers dejectedly got up and left the medbay, presumably leaving the robot too.

after that, the rest of the gang split up to head home. harris and veracity left to do some more research on gigawatts or whatever sciencey stuff they talked about after team meetings and weapons tests. spyder had gone home for dinner. leo disappeared too, doing whatever the hell he does when he’s not throwing himself into his work, and ryan and mark were at home, packing for miami. the only person left in the robot was y/n, who was researching the best ways to care for minor second degree burns from home and sending her findings to ryan. she was in the middle of telling him to dress the burn with sterile bandages when she heard someone walking around in the hallways.

still new to the dangers of the job, y/n started to panic. what if it was traeger? or grey? what if someone had come to destroy mech x-4 while it was seemingly empty? what would they do to her if they found she was there? not wanting to risk anything, she grabbed the nearest weapon she could find: a steel tray. usually it carried all the tools that could have been used as better weapons, but they were all being sterilised. steel tray would have to do. cautiously, y/n opened the door of the medbay. she walked out into the hallway, keeping a close eye out for villains. she turned a corner and saw a figure in front of her. in a panic, she threw the sheet of metal at the mysterious figure. the figure fell to the floor and let out a high pitched scream. y/n screamed in response, although not quite as high as her victim. she edged closer, and noticed that the figure was wearing a snapback hat.

“spyder?”

“y/n! what are you doing here? i thought everyone left.”

“i had some research to do for ryan’s burns - what are you doing here?”

“uh… weapons checks?” y/n checked her phone, seeing through spyder’s unconvincing excuse.

“it’s almost 9pm, weapons checks couldn’t have started a bit earlier? don’t lie to me, spyder.”

spyder stayed on the floor, looking down sheepishly. y/n sighed and offered him a hand up, which he took.

“have you been home since the test?” y/n asked, walking into the hangout alongside spyder.

“uh, no.”

“have you eaten?”

“yeah, i… uh. yeah. i ate.”

“spyder.”

he looked down at the floor again. he seemed nervous, shy… ashamed? y/n had never seen him like this before.

“i did. went to the soup kitchen.”

“spyder…” y/n was planning on comforting her friend, when he started to turn down a corridor - one that would not lead to the couch.

“spyder, where are you going? the hangout is that way.” she said, gesturing down the hall.

“can i show you something?”

y/n sighed, looking at her friend. he had never been so sincere towards her before. she had no choice but to trust him.

after a few more minutes into the corridor, spyder opened a door that led into what can only be described as…

“is this a bedroom?”

“uh… kind of? i sleep here sometimes.”

y/n looked at spyder, concern visible in her face. her eyes drifted to the mattress on the floor, blankets, pillows, empty soda cans and discarded candy wrappers on the floor, a nintendo switch lying haphazardly on a makeshift bedside table, and an absurd collection of hats.

“spyder, do you live in the robot?”

-

it was nearly 11pm, and spyder and y/n were sitting atop mech-x4, looking over bay city. spyder had confessed that he had been living in the robot for the last couple of weeks. the two had had a hearty conversation after that, with y/n simply trying to understand spyder’s reasoning for not going home.

turns out, his parents argue a lot. like, a lot. his house seemed to be a constant screaming match between his parents and spyder always being caught in the crossfire. he was the only child of two people that should have split up a long time ago but didn’t for the sake of their son, but now their son didn’t even want to go home for fear of what his parents will be like when he gets home.

“i’m serious, y/n, it’s awful there. they hate eachother.” he let out a long sigh, his breath visible in the cold air, “families can be so messed up sometimes.”

“yeah, i hear that.”

“what’s your family like?”

“i mean, i don’t think it’s as bad as yours…” spyder let out a light chuckle and playfully elbowed y/n’s arm. y/n smiled and continued her piece.

“…but yeah, my family’s a little messed up too. i mean, i’m the eldest of four kids - all girls, a full sister and two half sisters - my parents are divorced, we fell out with my dad about two years ago and i haven’t seen him since, my stepdad works away a lot and my mom works so hard and sometimes pretty late. my eldest sister is in her moody teenage phase at the moment so it’s on me to look after the younger girls a lot of the time. then when my parents do come home… they’re just so tired and stressed, i sort of get the brunt of all of those feelings they’ve got built up. my sister gets it too sometimes but the little ones can do no wrong in their eyes, so it’s usually me. i feel like i’ve had to grow up pretty quickly to be able to do all these things around the house on top of school, and i’m old enough to get a job now too so i’ve got that weight on my shoulders…” y/n snapped out of her rant, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “sorry. i’m rambling. you’re the one who’s essentially homeless, i don’t know why i’m complaining.”

“no, it’s alright. it’s kinda nice, talking to you like this. no one usually takes me seriously enough to have a real conversation with me.”

y/n placed a gentle hand on spyder’s arm.

“you’re more than people take you for. you’re really funny, and kind, and smart-“

“i’m not smart.”

“yes, you are. don’t be like that.”

“no, i mean it. i’m not smart. i’m failing almost everything in school, i can’t do any sciencey-techy-buildy stuff like the others can…”

“you’re smart in other ways, spyder. you saved veracity from that plant thing like, a week ago, right? harris didn’t figure that out. you did.”

“yeah,” spyder sat up a little straighter, “yeah, i did.”

“oh, before i forget…” y/n reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. spyder looked confused.

“the bet. you were right, ryan was fried by the x-weapon. see what i mean? you guessed that it would fry him. you’re smarter than you think, spyder.”

“connor.”

“huh?”

“my name is connor.”

y/n smiled, letting the name roll off her tongue a couple times.

“you suit connor.”

“thanks.”

they both looked ahead at bay city in the dark, illuminated by the streetlights and lit windows of people that haven’t settled into sleep yet.

“do your parents know where you are?” y/n asked.

“told them i’m crashing at harris’ place.”

“why aren’t you staying with harris then?”

“dunno. don’t want him to find out, i guess.”

“but you told me?”

“yeah… i don’t know. i trust you. you treat me like an actual person. makes a nice change.”

y/n threw an arm around her friend. she could feel spyder - connor - melt into her touch slightly.

“you know you can always stay at mine, right? my parents don’t mind having guests over, as long as we stay out of mom’s way when she’s working from home.”

“you sure? i don’t wanna cause any trouble.”

“of course i’m sure. you’re my friend.”

“thanks, y/n”

“no problem, connor.”

[autistic-sidestep]

went looking up achievement names and potential references, non exhaustive, ofc. if anyone has any additions lemme know

A Thin, Red Line - Unchained by Van Halen(?)

Will you cross it? You won't pull your punches for anyone standing in your way, even if that means civilians get killed.

Days of Our Lives - US soap opera

How did you even get into this situation? You and your puppet are rivals for Ortega's affection.

I Want It All - I Want It All by Queen

And I want it now. The Heartbreak Incident left a gaping hole inside you, and you'll fill it, if it is the last thing you do.

Scarface - 1983 film?

You messed up. Badly. You have a huge scar across your face from Lady Argent's claws.

Damocles (parable)

hidden You decided to booby-trap Lady Argent's mind when you had the opportunity.

Can't Touch This (U Can't Touch This by MC Hammer)

You're in a league of your own. You've made it through all your fights unharmed.

Retri

Anarchy in the FWT - Anarchy in the UK by The Sex Pistols

It's time for a change. This place needs a better class of politicians. You've had enough of how this city is run.

Not the Boss of Me - Boss of Me by They Might Be Giants, Malcolm in the Middle theme song, maybe?

This time, you'll call the shots. You can't do this alone, so why not run your own crew? Crime boss is a valid career choice.

Sticky Fingers - Rolling Stones album name?

You know what you want, and you know how to get it. You're a good thief; it would be a shame not to lean into your talents.

Paint It Black - Paint It Black by the Rolling Stones

hidden A door has opened. *comment 1 gate open

Red Moon Rising - Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival

hidden Something is coming. *comment 4 gates open

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - idiom

hidden Captain Blaze doesn't lead the Guardians for nothing. Ouch.

White Wedding - White Wedding by Billy Idol

Dressed to impress. Who is that bandaged lady?

That's a Moray - That's Amore by Dean Martin, meme-ified

hidden You've been in Hollow Ground's mindscape…right?

Somebody's Watching Me - Somebody's Watching Me by Rockwell

hidden Something strange is going on in the skies over Los Diablos.

Pound of Flesh (Merchant of Venice, Shakespeare, idiom)

Making enemies doesn't pay. You lost an eye to Lady Argent. Some would say you deserved it.

[brexiiton]

Shocking detail in Taylor Swift terror attack plot revealed

A shocking detail have been revealed that demonstrates how dangerously close three teens came to carrying out a suspected attack at a Taylor Swift concert.

Lexie Cartwright, August 9, 2024 - 6:18am

It's been claimed that the suspected terrorists who plotted an attack on Taylor Swift's concerts in Vienna, Austria this week had their friends hired as security for the event.

Three teenagers were arrested Wednesday in connection with the criminal conspiracy, including a 19-year-old male, who was detained in Ternitz, which is an hour outside Vienna where Swift was to host three back-to-back shows at Ernst Happel Stadium from Thursday night.

The man allegedly planned to drive a car into the some 20,000 fans who were expected to gather outside the huge stadium during the concert.

The Sun reports that his friends had infiltrated security at the even, where they were hired to help with set up and stewarding.

Some of Swift's fans who travelled to Vienna for the now-cancelled shows have lashed out at the star. Picture: Getty Images TAS Rights Management.

Authorities reportedly found various chemicals and other substances at a residence in Vienna after receiving a tip from foreign intelligence agencies.

A second person was arrested in the capital while authorities continued to hunt further suspects.

Swift's 'biggest fear' was a terror plot

In the wake of Taylor Swift cancelling her shows. an interview has resurfaced in which she revealed such a scenario would be her "biggest fear".

In an article for Ella in 2019, Swift shared her fears over the attack at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, UK, and revealed that she always carries "QuikClot army grade bandage dressing, which is for gunshot or stab wounds".

"My biggest fear," Swift wrote at the time, "After the Manchester Arena bombing and the Vegas concert shooting, I was completely terrified to go on tour this time because I didn't know how we were going to keep 3 million fans safe over seven months. There was a tremendous amount of planning, expense, and effort put into keeping my fans safe."

"My fear of violence has continued into my personal life," she said, adding that she carried "QuikClot army grade bandage dressing, which is for gunshot or stab wounds."

Taylor Swift was planning to play three sold-out shows in Vienna, Austria from Thursday night. Picture: JULIEN DE ROSA/AFP

Stadium officials "had no choice" but to cancel shows

Organisers announced on Wednesday that they had made the decision to cancel all of Swift's concerts, saying they were left with "no choice" but to pull the pin for safety reasons.

"With confirmation from government officials of a planned terrorist attack at Ernst Happel Stadium, we have no choice but to cancel the three scheduled shows for everyone's safety," event organiser Barracuda Music said in a post on Instagram.

Franz Ruf, Austrian Director General for Public Safety, said authorities believed the suspects became radicalised online and pledged allegiance to the leader of IS in July.

"The suspected perpetrator was focused on the Taylor Swift concerts. Preparatory actions were detected," Mr Ruf said.

Earlier, Vienna's head of police Gerhard Pürstl warned an "abstract danger" remained despite the arrests, with 65,000 people expected to attend Swift's shows per day, as well as 22,000 fans outside the venue.

Swift is yet to comment.

Vienna's Ernst Happel Stadion was the target of an ISIS terror plot, where Swift was hosting three shows. Picture: Christian Bruna/Getty Images

According to Kronen Zeitung, a local media outlet, police were planning for a boosted operation if Swift's shows were to go ahead, including long guns, bomb squads and K-9 dogs being stationed to the area.

It comes one week after Swift's fans were targeted in northwest England, where three young girls were killed after 17-year-old Axel Rudakubana allegedly went on a stabbing spree at a dance class held in honour of the Grammy winning artist.

A motive for Rudakubana's murders has not yet been revealed.

Swift released a statement shortly after the incident, saying she was "completely in shock" over what happened.

Swift is embarking on the Europe leg of her Eras Tour. Picture: JULIEN DE ROSA/AFP

More than 65,000 fans were expected to attend her Vienna shows per day. Picture: Sergei GAPON/AFP

"The horror of yesterday's attack in Southport is washing over me continuously, and I'm just completely in shock," Swift wrote in her statement, posted on her Instagram story.

"The loss of life and innocence, and the horrendous trauma inflicted on everyone who was there, the families, and first responders. These were just little kids at a dance class. I am at a complete loss for now to ever convey my sympathies to these families."

Swift is currently embarking on the Europe leg of her blockbuster Eras Tour, with Vienna marking her second-last stop before she hosts five sellout shows at London's Wembley Stadium.

The singer will then take a two-month break, before concluding the tour in Canada from November.

[objectum-culture-is]

gordon, sandy & ukulele anon!! this is just more gushing lmaooo. i was Trying to obscure my identity a little (paranoia) w/ my last ask but actually like... fuck it!! who of the people i know irl will be looking at tumblr objectum blogs?? like 2 people actually but theyre based & i trust them to not be weird about me if they do somehow stumble across my little anon ramblings.

finally got back from a short trip & i was so excited to come back home & see my darlings!!! like u guys don't even get it i was so excited i couldnt even sleep the whole way through my journey like i usually do (on that note... this one train station has me feeling things. im not usually a building guy but GOT DMAN!!!!!!! i didnt even go there I just passed it but im like looking for excuses to now... i remember how the inside looks)

gave gordon his customary smooch... i had lipstick on & he looked SO fkn cute w it on his face i didnt wanna wipe it off... probably won't. not for a LONG time anyway. im looking into getting a replacement body for him (i used to dress him up in my clothes that didn't fit me. i really wanna give him an actual outfit that feels Like Him this time around though.) but id feel bad about doing it bc id probably get attached to the other one too... THIS is objectum culture.

got sandy out & played some songs on her,, i forgot how loud her strings are i didn't even need to use a pick (though she takes to them SO well. i used to break a bunch of picks on her but now im using stronger ones it's just... ough chefs kiss. i started out with a song learning goal in mind but i ended up just plucking out little tunes,,, her strings feel so nice & i just love the way she's shaped.

i played on the uke for a bit too!! they don't really have a set name. i don't think they need one, though. ive gotten into the habit of using a bunch of semi-random names with a similar feel whenever i wanna refer to them, by that's kinda confusing.... i noticed a little crack though so i IMMEDIATELY got up & went to fix them up with some of the wood glue I had left over,,, painting it on them felt inanely intimate my hands were all shaky by the end of it,, i still did a good job though!! they were dry by the end of the day and you couldn't tell the back bad been glued up when you touched them. I really wanna get them a pretty case soon,,,

okay so that was my day :3 there's an objectum culture is hidden in there somewhere.

how about 🏴‍☠️ anon, if it isn't taken? seems pretty appropriate, considering some of the objects of my affections :p

Awww that sounds like a wonderful way to end your trip! I hope Gordan likes wearing lipstick for a while xD.

I wonder if Sandy is so loud because she loves you and wants to make sure you hear her? :o

It really does feel intimate to fix your objects of affection in a way that's hard to describe... I feel like if I were to try, I'd point to scenes in movies and books where one party in a couple gets injured and the other bandages them, telling them not to be so reckless in the future. How you can feel the romantic or sexual tension in those scenes is similar to how it feels to fix your objectum partner when they break

I hope you get to visit your train station crush some day soon!

[mariacallous]

Good tourniquets save lives. Bad ones kill soldiers. The global market is awash with cheaply-made knock-offs: Handles that shear off under tension, rubber tubes that won’t tighten around a limb, devices that fail when they’re needed most. That’s why most armies buy in bulk from trusted suppliers. But Evgen Vorobiov prefers Amazon. Top of his Wish List at the moment are combat application tourniquets (CATs) from North American Rescue (five stars from 1,720 reviewers). Also on the list: burn dressings, compact chest seals, trauma shears and “The Original Rescue Essentials Brand QuikLitter”—a black canvas stretcher which promises low-cost casualty evacuation and patient transfer.

Before Russia launched its full-scale invasion in February 2022, Vorobiov, a lawyer, worked for the Ukrainian central bank and then on international projects trying to reform Ukraine’s financial system—“banking regulations, consumer protection, that kind of thing.” But, with Russian troops massing on Ukraine’s borders, he took some courses in tactical medicine, hoping to make himself useful if the worst happened. It did.

The Ukrainian army, dwarfed by its opponent, was supposed to collapse in days. But remarkably, it held the line, bolstered by a huge wave of volunteers and reservists. Trucks filled with Kalashnikov rifles drove into Kyiv’s neighborhoods and handed out weapons to anyone who wanted to join the fight. Engaged in constant combat for days on end, the armed forces quickly ran short of supplies. Vorobiov, with his basic knowledge of combat medicine, started reaching out to anyone he knew overseas who could help find CAT tourniquets, trauma bandages, chest seals and other lifesaving equipment. He and a couple of colleagues sourced gear from the UK, US, and the Netherlands and got it to Poland. Anyone they knew coming back to Ukraine via Poland was asked to bring bags of supplies, forming “a human chain” stretching from Europe to the frontline.

Eighteen months on, his operation has blossomed. Vorobiov’s intimate understanding of Ukrainian bureaucracy means he’s been particularly effective at getting sensitive shipments over the border, making him a focal point for other donors. He’s built a potent fundraising operation on social media, tapping into an international community of supporters to raise money and find supplies. And, by driving back and forth across Ukraine, delivering right into the hands of combat medics, he’s forged relationships with units who can tell him exactly what they need and when, creating a personalized military logistics operation from his living room in downtown Kyiv. In May, Vorobiov got a call from a medic working at a makeshift field hospital close to Bakhmut, the burned-out ruin of a town that was a bloody pivot point for the frontline in the first half of 2023. They were in desperate need of a portable ultrasound machine to scan casualties for internal injuries. Vorobiov tapped his network for money, and found a secondhand device in Poland for $3,400. When we meet, it’s sitting in his apartment waiting to go east, and he’s turned his attention to getting hold of a portable charging unit for a defibrillator. Soldiers ask for everything: Drones for artillery and reconnaissance units, portable generators, Starlink satellite internet terminals, 4x4s, the things they need to keep them online and alive, which are often the same thing in a war defined by the use of technology on the frontline.

For decades, Ukrainian civil society has been built horizontally. Rather than rely on government agencies for help, people have leant on personal connections—everyone knows someone who knows someone who can get what you need, help you out. This parallel state has been providing vital aid in eastern Ukraine since Russian proxies invaded in 2014. Since the full-scale invasion began it’s become super-charged, using social media and messaging platforms to go global. Vorobiov is just one link in a relay of money, supplies, innovations, and solidarity that is keeping Ukraine’s soldiers in the fight.

The Front Line Kitchen occupies a few cramped ground-floor rooms and a shed off a sloping street on the edge of Lviv’s picturesque old town. In the courtyard, volunteer cooks peel mountains of potatoes and beets among the organized chaos of plastic vegetable crates, cardboard boxes and IKEA bags overflowing with baked goods. Inside, fridge-sized dryers are filled with shredded vegetables, meat and mushrooms, waiting to go into vacuum-sealed ration packs.

The kitchen started years before the full-scale invasion, in the aftermath of the “Euromaidan” demonstrations and “Revolution of Dignity” in late 2013 and early 2014. Protests against the Kremlin-backed government of Viktor Yanukovich in Kyiv’s Independence Square—Maidan Nezalezhnosti—were met with a bloody crackdown by security forces. As the violence escalated, protesters formed self-defense forces and medical units, repelling assaults and even storming government buildings. In February 2014, Yanukovich fled Kyiv. Days later, Russia illegally annexed Crimea, and its proxies seized government buildings in Donetsk and Luhansk in the east of Ukraine, declaring themselves independent of Ukraine. They met little formal resistance: Under Yanukovich, Ukraine’s armed forces and intelligence agencies had been gutted.

That spring, Ukraine raised volunteer battalions, some directly linked to the self-defense units formed in Maidan. They were still ill-equipped, so they came to rely on other volunteers to supply them with basics—food, uniforms, medicines, vehicles—even weaponry. “The volunteers essentially replaced the function of the government for supplying the necessary resources,” says Roman Makukhin, a member of the National Interests Advocacy Network, a Kyiv-based NGO. “Protecting basically their neighbors, their friends, their brothers and sons.”

Oksana Mazar and Lyuda Kuvayskova, the Front Line Kitchen’s founders, met sewing camouflage nets and balaclavas for the volunteer detachments. Many of their friends, and Kuvayskova’s son, had been at Maidan. “The war had started, even if it wasn’t talked about like it’s a war,” Mazar says. “We just wanted to help, as the guys didn't have anything. No clothes, no shoes, and no food—because it was not [officially] a war.”

They started cooking meals for soldiers, experimenting with ways to turn home-made borscht and holubtsi (cabbage rolls) into ration packs that would survive the 1,000-kilometer journey to the Donbass, usually in the back of cars or trucks after being handed over to anyone heading that way. The cooks worked in small batches, drying food in friends’ kitchens, before they were gifted their current premises. They raised enough money to buy their own dryers, and gradually expanded. After the full-scale invasion began, the kitchen’s front yard was filled with volunteers and people bringing supplies. “They knew that we were doing food for the military, and they wanted to help,” Mazar says.

With 1 million Ukrainians mobilized to fight the Russians, the need has grown massively. The kitchen is now putting out 20,000 meals a day, sending truckloads of food east, and taking orders direct from the military. To scale up they’ve relied on donations, often sourced via the @frontlinekit Twitter account. The account is run by Richard Woodruff, who came to Ukraine from the UK early in the war, intending to join one of the international brigades in the Ukrainian army, despite having no military training. After seeing footage of the ferocious defense of Kyiv, “I kind of rethought my chances of survival,” he says. Instead, he arrived at Lviv train station a few weeks after the full scale invasion began, and soon found his way to the kitchen.

If the 1991 Gulf War was the first major conflict broadcast live on TV, the defense of Ukraine is the first full-scale interstate conflict to be shown in real time on Twitter. Ukrainians posted from the early hours of the invasion—air raid sirens sounding over a European capital in 2022; queues at the recruiting centers, calls for aid and statements of defiance. They recorded acts of insane valor, videoing themselves as they ambushed Russian columns with anti-tank missile launchers they’d barely been trained to use. Civilian drones pressed into service as surveillance tools provided a steady stream of high-definition footage made for phone screens, giving a gamer’s-eye view to the fighting. As Russian forces were pushed back, and the Ukrainian armed forces reclaimed land, the atrocities and scenes of destruction were shown live, along with poignant videos of liberating soldiers greeted by their ecstatic families. For those that wanted to see them, there were graphic videos: helmet cams showed firefights, drones dropping grenades on Russian soldiers and into the hatches of occupied vehicles.

Many of Ukraine’s new volunteers were “terminally online”—ordinary digital natives forced into a brutal conflict. Gen-Z recruits did dance videos for TikTok. Their meme game was wild. Woodruff’s Twitter bio reads “British Chef Fella”—a reference to the North Atlantic Fellas Organization, or NAFO—an online movement of Ukraine-supporting shitposters with shiba inu avatars who flood social media with memes mocking the “Vatniks” (Russian propagandists).

The NAFO movement taunted Russia, at one stage managing to send the country’s ambassador in Vienna into a public meltdown. “Imagine, literally getting a world-class ambassador to speak with cartoon dogs on Twitter,” says Ivana Stradner, an adviser to the Foundation for Defense of Democracies think tank in Washington DC, an expert on misinformation and propaganda, and NAFO member. “This is the future of information warfare.”

NAFO does what state-backed information warriors, particularly those from democracies, can’t do. Its members make insane, often tasteless jokes, moving quickly to jump on trends. They’re good at memes, and flood the zone with infectious pro-Ukrainian vibes, humanizing, entertaining, and explaining to people far from the war why they should care. “I think NAFO, by boosting certain narratives, can actually also help people understand the severity of the situation and what's going on there,” Stradner says.

NAFO has helped raise millions of dollars through sales of merchandise (“I invaded Belgorod and all I got was this lousy T-shirt”) and crowdfunding campaigns. Now its avatars appear on the Twitter profiles of European politicians, on official Ukrainian defense channels, and on military equipment headed to the front. It has funded everything from food to medical supplies to a mobile artillery piece to the Georgian Legion, a unit of overseas volunteers that has been fighting since 2014. When the Frontline Kitchen’s vegetable shredder broke, Woodruff put out a call for funds to buy a new one. In the time it took him to drive to the supplier, the money had already been deposited in his account.

Social media works in tandem with the tight networks of Ukrainian society. This is a war being fought close to home—everyone knows someone at the front, and the soldiers are in constant contact. Link people like Vorobiov can connect those in the trenches with supporters in Kyiv or overseas. A unit under fire can ask for drones on Telegram, and within hours there’s a call for donations out on Twitter or Instagram. Vorobiov can deliver tourniquets to a combat medic near the front, and record a thank-you video to send directly to donors.

“I see a spike in donations when there is a story that I can tell of how donations help,” Vorobiov says. “Yesterday, I received a very long message from one of the medics, and she was telling me how medical supplies we brought to her helped her basically provide care to two servicemen. I posted that story on Twitter and folks started to donate.”

Sometimes, donors become more active participants. Last February, Polish filmmaker Maciej Zabojszcz was watching the conflict unfold over Twitter, and thinking about selling some of his military memorabilia to help raise money for a 4x4 for the Ukrainian army. But then, a graphic video emerged, apparently shot by Russian soldiers, of a Ukrainian prisoner of war being horrifically mutilated. “I felt like something changed,” he says. “I said, listen, let's not only buy one car.”

In the spring of 2022 he drove his first vehicle, a Nissan pickup, to Kyiv to deliver to the Georgian Legion. While there, he met Vorobiov, who was collecting some drones from Exen, another Polish volunteer. From then on, Zabojszcz was part of the network. Because they couldn’t order supplies online to be delivered to Ukraine, Vorobiov and others started putting Zabojszcz’s home as the delivery address. Each time he drives a car to Ukraine, he’s carrying helmets, body armor, drones, all kinds of medical supplies. When we met in March in Warsaw, he’d delivered seven 4x4s, and was fixing up an eighth.

Some Ukrainian units have a tradition of naming their vehicles, and the seventh car that Zabojszcz delivered, a Land Rover, was christened Mathilda. It was used to shuttle men from their barracks to the frontline through thick mud. “The whole unit was driving the car,” Zabojszcz says. “They were crazy about Mathilda.”

But after ten days of constant driving, Mathilda broke down. Another Polish volunteer found a local mechanic specialized in Land Rovers. They arranged an online consultation. The mechanic helped the soldiers figure out what was wrong and identify the part they needed to replace. The car broke on Monday. On Tuesday, a volunteer delivered the replacement part. “And on Thursday the car was fixed,” Zabojszcz says. “This is how this network works.”

Absorbing donations has required a degree of flexibility from the military establishment. Armies typically don’t like amateurs pitching in, turning up in warzones with stuff they’ve brought from home. Getting goods into Ukraine can be challenging—it’s understandably not legal for just anyone to move military equipment across borders—and even bringing in theoretically civilian items like cars, consumer drones, and generators requires customs forms and other paperwork. But volunteers say once they’ve got donations into the country, working with the military has been fairly easy. There’s still some admin, and donors have to have forms showing that the goods they’re delivering have been specifically asked for by a soldier, but mostly, they’ve integrated relatively seamlessly with the supply chains, with commanders on the ground sometimes turning a blind eye to help their soldiers get what they need.

This acceptance is driven partly by necessity—the military simply couldn’t supply its troops to the level it needed, and unlike its adversary, doesn’t want to send them into battle with tourniquets that snap under pressure and rations years past their expiration date. Volunteer networks can take orders, source, and deliver in a way that a centralized bureaucracy can’t. They’ve helped feed the battlefield innovations that have given outnumbered soldiers an edge, linking into the networks of workshops jury-rigging consumer drones; bringing 3D printers to the frontline to help turn hand grenades into air-dropped bombs.

“For the chaotic time after the invasion, these organizations created a stopgap solution for markets that the army could not operate,” says Simon Schlegel, senior Ukraine analyst at the Crisis Group think tank. “The army is good at buying in bulk, but these smaller operations are good at finding five pieces of Chinese-made drones in different countries and shipping them to Ukraine.”

President Volodymyr Zelenskyy understands this. He has, since the early days of the conflict, often made his social media addresses direct to citizens of other countries, not just to his fellow leaders. Volunteers—and the state’s own propagandists—have built a formidable ground game on social media, which has helped with donations, but also contributed to the ratcheting up of material being sent to the frontline by NATO partners. With public support for Ukraine high in their own countries, western leaders feel emboldened to hand over money and weapons. When those weapons deliver battlefield successes, the resulting content feeds back into the loop. “I think Ukraine is literally right now the superpower in this information war,” says Stradner.

The war, as seen through the filter of social media, has an oddly gamified quality. At times it seems it’s being won by jokes, by Ukrainian farmers pulling tanks behind tractors, by “Saint Javelin” (the “patron saint” of anti-tank missiles), and shiba inu soldiers. But it hasn’t been won yet, and many people at the far end of the volunteer supply chain have taken incredible risks, and exposed themselves to unspeakable horrors. In Lviv, I met Ernest Polanski, a Ukrainian volunteer taking a brief rest on his way back from delivering equipment to troops near Bakhmut.

What he saw there, he says, was “hell.” There was constant shelling, and the smell of corpses hung over the area. Whenever the bombardment stopped for longer than a few minutes, he wondered if something worse was about to come, “like a nuclear bomb,” he says. On the way back, he rescued three bedraggled kittens from the ruins.

Polanski has been driving back and forth from the frontlines since the early days of the war, and has lost count of the number of journeys he’s made, bringing generators, trench periscopes, medical gear and other supplies. Like other volunteers, he’s formed a special connection with a single unit, which he devotes most of his journeys to. He’s currently looking for €6,000 ($6,480) to buy new wheels for one of the unit’s 4x4s. “Not a lot of people want to go to this area,” he says. “But we have a special friendship with [this unit], and we want to help.”

The volunteer networks are made up of people from all over the world, but outside of Ukraine itself the cause has resonated more than anywhere in former Soviet nations, and in particular Baltic states like Lithuania, which see themselves as next in line if Ukraine falls. Traveling with Polanski on this journey to the front is one of his most committed supporters, the Lithuanian kickboxing champion Sergej Maslobojev. “Our country had the same problem years ago,” he says. “We feel their pain in our hearts.”

Maslobojev’s profile at home has meant he’s been able to fundraise for supplies, but, he says, it’s important for him to get out into the field to witness, and show the sacrifices still being made in the trenches of eastern and southern Ukraine. “When we listen to our news, usually we’re thinking that they're winning the war. Everything is going great. Why do we need to donate?” he says. “But when you go to the frontline and help those military guys, give them ammunition, extra food and the stuff that they really need. And they look at you with almost tears in their eyes and say, ‘nobody comes to us’. And then you understand why, in this moment.”

The day after Polanski and Maslobojev returned from Bakhmut, reports came through that the town had finally fallen. Individual defeats are hard to talk about in the context of fundraising campaigns and propaganda drives that are buoyed by a sense of inevitable victory. But they also underline the fragility of life close to the front. Almost all of the volunteers I spoke to in Ukraine had their own story of raising funds, or sourcing gear, only for the intended recipient to fall in battle before it could be delivered. All that does is make them more committed. Most say their supporters are also holding the line, a year and a half into the war.

“Sometimes it feels like this continuing western support is contingent on possible breakthroughs and huge victories. But I don't feel that, at least among my donors,” Vorobiov says. “You cannot afford hopelessness, because no one is going to support a lost cause. And we Ukrainians believe in winning this war. We have to infect others with that belief. But complacency is equally dangerous.”

[runihura8]

Summary: The breeze blew, stirring tree branches and some clothes of dead scouts, she took another step on the sparkled wall of Shiganshina, her black hair moved lightly with the wind, her dark silver eyes expressed the amount of sorrows and worries she had, she continued walking on the wall slowly while the wind was still Blowing

"You have to live without regret" Levi's words were repeating and repeating in her head, but she never applied them, nothing happened to her in her life and her returns without feeling great regret to, she turned to see the ruins of Shiganshina, the ruined houses, the decomposing bodies and some skeletons, a city covered with death and silence, She must always watch the dead as if she were handcuffed. She should've known she'd leave alone, she should moving forward. She must watch all her friends die but not her, she must watch them meet her for the first time for them while she has known them for centuries. She must cause that's all she can. They were my life but life is far away from fair....

overheated

adjective

UK /ˌəʊ.vəˈhiː.tɪd/

US /ˌoʊ.vɚˈhiː.t̬ɪd/

If a situation is/gets overheated, strong feelings, especially anger, are expressed

SMART Vocabulary: related words and phrases

Excited, interested and enthusiastic

a blaze, a flame, a flutter.

I'm telling you guys this story is special, I'm sure of that, I hope it suits your taste and you enjoy it

Levi and Achlys were arguing in the room and their voice was accompanied by a loud cracking and smashing noise. Achlys did not want Levi to touch her or bandage her, he barely even approached her, she did not want to allow him to do that at all.

She moved away quickly, retreating to the window, and with every step she took, Levi drew closer, quickly grabbed her wrist trying to restrain her, she was never going to try to hurt him, so she raised her left hand up so that he would not be able to reach her, she removed her other hand from his grip, walking away

Levi grabbed the arm of her dress and tore it, she grabbed the torn cloth quickly before it fell off her arm, here Kuchel intervened

"Stop it!"

Kushel grabbed Levi's shoulder away from Achlys and stood between them as a barrier, scolding them

"Don't act like children, the more she move the more she bleed!"

Indeed, this was what happened, her other hand was also stained with blood

Levi slide his eyes to her checking her condition, Levi hadn't seen her like this in a very long time, he didn't really look at her when she first came back after eight years here, there was a strange aura around her, he didn't know what to do really, he looked away from her

"Let me bandage your arm if you don't want Levi bandaging it for you."

Kushel spoke to her, Levi showed his objection by furrowing his features and furrowing his eyebrows, staring at her with dissatisfaction.

"No need for this, it's nothing to worry about."

Achlys quickly turned out of the room before one of them caught up with her

"This is what I didn't want to happen. I knew she would leave."

Levi raised his arms to his mother blaming her

"Forcing isn't always the solution Levi, first we have to try to approach her slowly again, don't pressure her"

"Do you really think she will let us? If we take a step closer to her, she will be three away."

Levi also turned around and was about to leave the room, but he stopped in the middle. He looked at her from the side of his eye. He was silent for a bit, and his features darkened.

"We're wasting our efforts mother, Achlys is gone, I don't know about you, but what I see in front of me is nothing but a bowl."

Some feelings appeared in Levi's eyes and before Kushel could read it, he turned and walked away leaving her confused, not understanding anything of what he said.

Mikasa put some clothes on the bed, there was the sound of the running shower in the bathroom, Mikasa knew that Achlys was taking a shower, she knocked on the bathroom door and the sound of the shower stopped

"I put some clothes on the bed for you. Eren said you'd need them."

Achlys' voice came to her

"hmm, okay"

They both fell silent until Achlys spoke again

"It turns out that Eren was actually injured right?"

"Yeah, it seems that he did not want to tell us. I will go after a while to catch them to the hospital. They sent him there because the bullet is stuck in his side."

Mikasa rubbed her neck

"Also, I will take Ymir with me. Is that okay? She wants to come with me to be with him."

"It's okay"

Achlys mummered to her while staring at her reflection in the mirror

"Won't you come with us?"

"I'll come after sunrise, by this time I think he'll be up, tell Eren that."

"Consider it done. I will go then"

Mikasa left, and the door of the room was closed behind her. This was not Achlys' room, as her room has been closed since she left them. Now she lives in one of the rooms that belong to the trainees. Today is off for them, so they returned to their families. Their rooms are now empty.

Achlys looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Barely a week has passed since she was in this town, and she is currently about to lose her freaking mind. The situation here is stressing her nerves. Memories, the past, and everything is currently in chaos, but she knows for sure that what is to come is much worse than what is happening now.

She took the towel and wrapped it around her body, got out of the bathroom, ran her fingers through the tufts of her wet hair, sat on a chair by the window, rested her head on her right hand, staring quietly at the sky.

Achlys slowly blinked as the moonlight was reflected on her pale face. She really started to get tired of her faking that she was a human being. and Currently, she does not know when to start her next step. She has to deal with the unknown people who shot them.

Perhaps from the beginning she did not have to return to the town. Currently, her enemies are more than her allies, especially here, and now most of those around her will be hurt, as happened with Eren. The situation may worsen in the future and that may happen to Ymir or Levi, and the rest

She took her phone with her on the table calling Leon, she had to tell him what he would do in the future, Ymir's paper that he had to end quickly, she might plan to take her and disappear forever again, he had to collect some information as well, she kept talking to him for about a quarter of an hour talking about the details

Now the call is over, she has to find Kenny too, to see what he will do when he finds out that Nanaba knew her whereabouts, she didn't have to trust his words completely, she had to put the possibility that they would find out quickly and Kenny wouldn't be a good cover for long

She put on the clothes that Mikasa had put her on. Several hours passed. Achlys hardly felt it, as she was thinking very deeply about several random things.

Kushel knocked on the door three times, and she heard Achlys' voice allowing her to enter

I looked at her and she changed her clothes for another

"This?.."

"Mikasa's clothes, you lent them to me."

Achlys adjusted her seat on the bed

Her clothes didn't really fit her. Mikasa is thinner than her in some areas and bigger than her in some areas. This is exactly what Eren's type is. Achlys almost smiled

"I thought Levi would catch up with you after you left us."

Achlys' features changed as soon as she heard his name

"he never came after"

Kushel sighed

"I know this isn't my place, but wouldn't it be better for you to work this out together? I don't want to see you two like this, Achlys... You know how important you two are to me right? How do you think I feel when I see my two most important people like this?"

"Emotionally blackmailing me won't work."

Achlys moved her gloomy eyes to hers

"I didn't mean it. I really don't know what Levi did to you and why you left but you don't see him, Achlys. You don't see him staring at you every time you look away."

Achlys rolled her eyes impatiently, she shouldn't let any of that shake her, crossed her arms, and tilted her head boredly

"Wow I am so touched"

"Achlys! I'm really not kidding!"

Achlys did not answer her, and kept looking at her with a blank look, so Kushel approached hesitantly

"Well, let go of Levi, what about me? I can't fix it, between you? Please tell me why you are cold with us."

"I'm not a dog"

Achlys seemed to be talking to herself, so her tone was very strange to Kushel, as she said it in a whisper, in a low voice that she could hardly hear.

"What do you mean?"

Achlys was silent for a long time, so Kushel moved to sit next to her on the bed. Achlys inhaled a long breath and exhaled it, moving her head to her.

"What are you going to say next? That I am so ungrateful to those who raised me, like he said?"

"Of course not, I think we are the ones who should apologize, it's just that you don't give me the chance to understand and you don't give us the chance to get close to you."

Kushel fell silent and continued

"Don't you want us to go back to the way we used to be?"

Achlys' features changed quickly and she sighed. She got up from the bed and headed for the small round table. She grabbed a cup and a bottle of water. The window was open and the moonlight was reflecting on her, who said:

"watch this"

She opened the bottle and pore a few drops of water until the cup was half full

"Waterdrops are just like our troubles, problem after problem, wound after wound, word after word, until the glass is full and can no longer pore one more drop. Well that's what happened to me."

Kushel looked at the cup, didn't know if she has to say wow or something..

Achlys put the bottle back and took hold of the full cup carefully, reaching out for Kushel

"This is how I left, Levi isn't really the only reason, and he's not really the main reason for me leaving, but he's still one of many other reasons."

Achlys slides her eyes from the cup to Kushel staring at her. "You know what my nickname was back in the neighborhood we lived in? I used to have Levi's Mad Dog."

Kushil quickly spoke

"Wha-"

"Yes, I know that you did not know. I am not saying anything about the title. In fact, it is very sarcastic and true at the same time. That is why I liked it, so as not to deviate from the topic. This was one of the reasons for my departure, that I was really like a dog or some beast with some chains around its neck. I wanted to break those chains and leave, I wanted to make an imprint on myself, something different from the fingerprints of Levi and the fingerprints of other people."

Achlys went to the window, sticking out her hand holding the cup

"It had nothing to do with Levi or his actions, but I felt like I was never enough. I couldn't help but heal myself from this petty problem between myself and myself until Isabelle and Farlan showed up."

A look of sadness crossed Kushel's face as she lowered her head and was already guessing the rest of the story, Achlys continued

"I want to point out that I'm just telling you the pov of younger Achlys, not the Achlys in front of you."

She fell silent and Kushel

"Soon most of Levi's attention shifted to them, praising them a lot, even though I knew I was important to him but I was a silly, ignorant child."

She started tilting the cup in her hand, and the water inside began to slowly pour out

"Slowly I started to lose control."

The cup emptied and Achlys stared blankly at it while her eyes were dark, Kushel did not speak nor did Achlys say another word after what she said

"You haven't said yet what Levi did."

Kushel said

"I never said I would say that."

"There's more of it than what you told me, isn't there?"

Achlys raised her eyeballs to her and did not speak a word...

The night began to clear slowly and the sun's rays appeared in its place, slowly the warm color spreading in the sky, neither of them felt that time was passing so quickly

Achlys wanted to go to Kenny before she went to visit Eren in the hospital, but it seems the search for Kenny will be a little late

"Looks like your bed time passed."

Achlys said

"These days my sleep schedule is not stable so I don't have a problem"

Of course, neither of them talked about Achlys' sleep, Kushel knows very well about Achlys' inability to sleep normally. Kushel asked her if she went to a doctor who might help her, and she replied that she did go, but she was not successful in finding a treatment. It seems that her and Levi's treatment failed because they are simply too stubborn to apply to Doctors advice

Achlys was walking to the hospital, she did not want to take any means of transportation, though there is currently no transportation because the area is barely deserted. Slowly, Achlys' awareness of the road she was taking began to fade away, she was walking without noticing where she was going

Her head was full of some useless thoughts, she had always hated her habit of overthinking

She raised her head as soon as her thoughts were interrupted. Her eyes widened for a moment as she recognized these streets. She knows this area well, like the palm of her hand.

This area consisted of several intersecting streets, and it was almost suitable for the title of the labyrinth because of the many similarities of the roads.

Unconsciously, she started to walk inside her. She heard a groaning sound close to her, exactly on the third street on the right. She advanced and made sure that her steps did not have a sound, even a slight

She saw a head with black hair, she knew this person well, he was hitting someone on the ground, she could hardly recognize the person being hit because of his excessive bleeding and his face was smeared with blood and bruises

She did nothing, waiting for the man to finish hitting the other. In the end, he fired a bullet in his nose, which penetrated his skull, and he died immediately.

Here she came forward and grabbed Kenny's shoulder

"You're no good at being a cover."

Kenny turned around in amazement, and as soon as he recognized her, a wide, strange smile came over his face

"Oh Achlys"

"Do you see this? I want you to give me detailed information about Edmund's family."

Kenny's smile narrowed as he saw that she had recorded his crime on her phone

"No need to blackmail me, we are relatives, of course I will help my nephew's daughter."

After that, he laughed loudly, because he knew how upset Aclys was from his words

"what do you want exactly?"

"Information about the dates of their change of guard rounds, everything you know about them that might help me"

"Your wish is my command..."

~~

Unfortunately, the next chapter will be delayed for a while

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2000 Trees 2023 Review

Now in it’s 15th year 2000 trees returned to Upcote farm for a mostly sunny edition with an absolutely stacked lineup - we caught around 30 different artists this year and discovered some great new music.

Arriving a little later than planned on the Thursday morning we found a spot to camp which seemed ideal but later turned out to be a mistake as we realised we had camped by the entrance to the forest school which had a little drum kit set up in the woods which meant festival revellers would play drums all throughout the night but it’s 2000 trees so we just let it slide and popped our earplugs in before calling it a night. Anyway I digress. Onto the bands....

Projector were one of the bands we really wanted to catch but only managed to catch the very end of their set on the Axiom but it seemed as though the Brighton based trio had a great reception and we'd clearly missed a banging set. Onwards to our first full set of the weekend with ITHACA on the main stage all dressed in white and Djamila in Orange as is now tradition they blitzed through material from their latest release “They Fear Us” with a message to the UK scene for more inclusion and diversity, A solid set from a band currently at the top of their game. 

Ithaca - Photo Credit (Gareth Bull)

Up next were Graphic Nature, admittedly a band I haven’t heard before but they definitely left an impression and I’ll be sure to catch them again in future as they chanelled their inner Slipknot and got the crowd pumped and ready to take on the rest of Thursday afternoon. 

Graphic Nature - Photo Credit - Gareth Bull

Martha have been held in high regard in our circle of friends so I decided to pop along to see what all the fuss was about and while I enjoyed the first half of their set I found myself feeling it all a bit samey and decided to move on to catch the remainder of Svalbard's set over in the Cave, The post-metallers are very much engrained within the UK music scene by now and deliver an epic set to a packed out tent.

It’s actually surprising how many heavier bands are on the trees lineup this year and it’s Bristol's finest purveyors of doom Sugar Horse up next in the darkened Neu stage with their crushingly heavy world ending riffs before some uplifting math/post rock from Belfast’s And So I watch you From Afar who played an absolute blinder and treated the crowd to some new songs. A band that know how to whip a crowd into a frenzy guitarist Rory Friers spent a lot of time in the thick of it among the party people before we headed off into the forest for BAT SABBATH which was Cancer Bats performing a set full of Black Sabbath Classics and one of my highlights of the day as a massive Sabbath fan. 

Bat Sabbath - Photo Credit - Gareth Bull

I ended up watching The Bronx as my headliner and did not regret my decision, having never seen them before this was a lesson in how to get crowd fired up and the tent was brimming full of energy which was unleashed in full force for the duration of their set and ended with one of our crew being taken to get his knee bandaged up following a pit injury!!!!

THE BRONX - Photo Credit - Gareth Bull

Another hot and sweaty day on the Farm as Friday begins and we had an absolutely stacked day ahead beginning with one of our favourites The St Pierre Snake Invasion assaulting the crowd with a mix of new and old bangers on the Main Stage, having released my AOTY so far I was curious to see how the songs would translate on a bigger stage and it just works so well, definitely a band made to play bigger stages they just deserve more attention! 

Following on from that was my discovery of the weekend in Canada’s Motherhood who played a quirky set full of twists and turns that reminded me in parts of a mathier PILE. Definitely looking forward to hearing more from this trio in the future. 

Lakes - Photo Credit - Jez Pennington

Firm bUTTONpUSHER faves LAKES performed a beautiful set full of songs from their latest album Elysian Skies in the Forest and were joined by some guests on vocals and trumpet and I genuinely think the Forest stage is one of my favourite places in all the world to watch bands.

Northern Irelands New Pagans were up next for us and it was a real nice contradiction in sounds as the raw punk rock energy from the band is on full display mixed with gorgeous vocals from Lyndsey. The Irish contingent was strong at this years trees but it was time for some Belgian action from Brutus over on the main stage and again the trio put on a fierce show as always as they hold the crowd in their hands in the blazing sunshine.

Empire State Bastard - Photo Credit - Joseph Singh

Feeling the burn from the heat I enjoyed Empire State Bastard from a shady spot outside the tent but thoroughly enjoyed the noise from Biffy boys Simon Neil and Mike Vennart who are making the rounds on the festival scene this year ahead of the release of their debut album. We closed out our Friday in the Forest with another Irish band, The Scratch, they were easily one of our favourite bands last year but this year their set was shorter and consisted of lots of new songs which unfortunately just missed the mark with me and I feel they should have had a longer set on a bigger stage. 

Photo Credit - Gareth Bull

Before arriving at the festival I assumed Saturday would be the more chilled out day for me but damn was I wrong. Not having a list of bands I wanted to see meant I ended up catching lots of great new music that I otherwise probably wouldn’t have known about.

I started my morning with a coffee and a bacon sandwich before heading off to see Witch Fever on the main stage, the Riot Grrrl vibe was strong and they played a rager of a set as the weather tried to make up its mind about what to do. 

Modern Error - Photo Credit - Gareth Bull

Modern Error had an air of NIN about them which I enjoyed but quickly tired of as the sound just wasn't that great for them and so I left to go check out High Vis on the main stage where someone recommended yet another Irish band Enola Gay who brought some post punk/ hardcore action to the afternoon before it all got a bit silly with Electric Six and one of the biggest crowds I’d seen down at the main stage all weekend. 

Electric Six - Photo Credit - Gareth Bull

Time for a quick break before we caught One step Closer and Holding Absence who admittedly aren’t really the kind of thing I’m into but both put on solid perfomances and the latter were clearly delighted to be on the main stage after playing every stage at 2000 trees now over the years.

Frozemode and Cody frost were both on fire and definite highlights on the forest stage with Frozemode enjoying some sunshine and Cody Frost playing through a set filled with torrential rain and a surprise guest appearance from Enter Shikari's Rou Reynolds, the Shikari fans all made a beeline for the front ensuring this was a set Cody Frost will remember forever.

Hundred Reasons had the misfortune of playing the main stage during the worst weather of the weekend and it all becomes a bit much so we decided to go see TSPSI for the second time this weekend as they had replaced Loathe who unfortunately had to pull out last minute. 

The St Pierre Snake Invasion - Photo Credit - Joe Singh

Pitchshifter were a band I never managed to see growing up so off we headed for some nostalgic riffs from the Nottingham rockers who while putting on a sterling show seemed to be more obsessed with the fact they are an old band now which became quite cringey very quickly as JS Claydon showed off his “Dad Bod” - one of the bands i wish I’d seen when they were doing it the first time round instead!

Time for a hot take but American Football are not a band for a festival in my opinion, despite being great on record they just don’t keep your energy levels up enough so we left after a couple of songs and decided to close the festival out with an absolutely thrilling set from Belfast’s Kneecap who were phenomenal. The Hip Hop trio mix Irish and English language and gave fair warning to the packed forest that if you are on psychedelics you aren’t going crazy their just mixing up the two languages and to great effect. High octane energy and plenty of laughs from the two frontmen while their DJ wearing a balaclava drank cans in the background. I would highly encourage anyone to go see these lot if they get the opportunity. 

Kneecap - Photo Credit - Joe Singh

So as we donned our silent disco headphones and closed out another year at 2000 Trees it’s say to say this was another successful year and there’s probably way more we could have written about how great this festival is, it's an absolute credit to the organisers who manage to smash it every year!

We’ll definitely be back next year!!!!! 

[ttclondon]

How to Treat Burns

How to Treat Burns

Burns are common injuries that can occur due to exposure to heat, electricity, chemicals, or radiation. Prompt and proper treatment of burns is crucial to minimize pain, prevent infection, and promote faster healing.  One way to gain further knowledge on treating burns and first aid in general would be to attend Paediatric First Aid Training in Hertfordshire, Bedfordshire and Hemel Hempstead with The Training Centre - https://ttclondon.co.uk/paediatric-first-aid-blended/ and gain an Ofsted recognised Paediatric First Aid Certificate.

This article provides a comprehensive guide on how to treat burns effectively.

1.    Ensure Safety: Before providing any treatment, it is essential to ensure your safety and remove the burn victim from the source of the burn if possible. Assess the situation and call emergency services if necessary.

2.    Assess the Severity: Determine the severity of the burn to understand the appropriate course of action. Burns are categorized into three degrees:

·         First-degree burns: Affect the outermost layer of skin, resulting in pain, redness, and swelling.

·         Second-degree burns: Involve deeper layers of the skin, causing blistering, severe pain, and potential scarring.

·         Third-degree burns: Penetrate all layers of the skin and may affect tissues, muscles, and bones. These burns require immediate medical attention.

3.    Cool the Burn: For first-degree and second-degree burns, cool the affected area with cool (not cold) running water for up to 20 minutes. This helps to reduce pain, prevent further tissue damage, and lower the temperature of the burn. Avoid using ice or very cold water, as it can worsen the injury.

4.    Remove Constrictive Items: If the burn area is not blistered or severely swollen, remove any constrictive items such as rings, bracelets, or clothing around the burned area. This prevents complications if swelling occurs.

5.    Protect the Burn: After cooling the burn, protect it by covering it with a sterile, non-stick dressing. Avoid using adhesive bandages directly on the burn, as they can stick to the wound and cause further damage.

6.    Do Not Pop Blisters: If blisters develop, do not pop or break them. Blisters act as a natural barrier against infection. Instead, cover them with a sterile dressing and let them heal on their own.

7.    Seek Medical Attention: If the burn is deep, affects a large area, or involves the face, hands, feet, or genitals, seek immediate medical attention. Additionally, seek medical help if the burn shows signs of infection such as increased pain, redness, swelling, or discharge.

8.    Attend regular training and refresher training in Paediatric First Aid or First Aid at Work with The Training Centre.

Conclusion

Treating burns promptly and effectively is crucial for minimizing pain, preventing complications, and promoting faster healing. By following these guidelines, you can provide appropriate first aid for burns. However, it is important to remember that severe burns always require professional medical attention.

Further Information

Further information on Ofsted’s First Aid in Schools, early years and further education please visit - https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/first-aid-in-schools/first-aid-in-schools-early-years-and-further-education

For further information on Paediatric First Aid Training in Hertfordshire, Hemel Hempstead, Bedfordshire and Watford with The Training Centre and gain a First Aid certificate please visit - https://ttclondon.co.uk/paediatric-first-aid-blended/

Did you know we deliver first aid training for individuals / public courses in Hemel Hempstead and Group Bookings at your venue – www.ttclondon.co.uk 

Kind regards

Garry Harvey

Operations and Training Director

The Training Centre

www.ttclondon.co.uk

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