#let’s fuck in the ambulance. etc.

[dashiellqvverty]

my opinion on season 11 is that ian and mickey were all over the place from episode to episode and i ultimately wasn’t very happy with where it ended for them

[reiderwriter]

🗝 Don't Back Down 🗝

Pairing: Unit Chief! Sub Spencer Reid x dom! BAU Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 24

Requested: Hello!! You are an excellent writer, and I hope you don’t mind a random request. :)!Basically, Spencer breaks protocol and endangers himself - runs after an unsub without backup, takes off his vest, etc. whatever it is - the reader is either there or finds out and is PISSED. She’s obviously not above him in the BAU, so she can’t punish him at work, but she can punish him in bed through toys/edging.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, brief mentions of details, minor gunshot wound, sex toys, punishment, BDSM themes, male sub Spencer, cock ring, dildo, masturbation (f), squirting, overstimulation (male), multiple orgasms, begging, messy sex, slight cum play, implied oral sex (f), boss/ subordinate relationship, partial established relationship, FWB dynamic. Implied switch x switch.

A/N: Hello! I really loved writing Unit Chief Spencer for my first Kink Bingo fic, so I've decided to bring him back a second time, and I'll be rounding out the challenge with a third part in the Unit Chief saga in July! You don't have to have read the first part, but if you want to, you can find it here~♡ I'm still enjoying the challenge of interpreting all the bingo challenges and this marks my very first bingo line! Let's see if I can get a full board!!

Masterlist || Bingo Board

His tenure as Unit Chief may have been temporary and wholly unwanted, but you admired Spencer's commitment to actually taking care of every member of the team he was left in charge of. 

He'd supported JJ in interviews, actually taking care of the press very effectively, and made sure Garcia was calm and stable. Hell, he'd even made Rossi feel better about his work on cases. And for you - well, he'd taught you to shoot straight. That and more. 

He'd held you in the middle of the night on the tougher cases, letting you sob into his bare chest the day you'd first killed an unsub. He'd distracted you from cases with his tongue, and his fingers and his dick, he'd given you pleasure where the job gave only pain and stress, and you loved him. 

You loved him, even if he was going to get himself killed. 

At first, it had been pulling Luke out of the way of a moving vehicle, being almost mowed down himself when on a case. Then he'd walked into a scene without his gun and had actually taken off his vest in exchange for JJ and Tara being able to back away to safety. He'd closed a door between him and Rossi and an active bomb that had only just been deactivated in time, and more recently, he'd taken two bullets for you. 

It was like he wanted to die. 

Th bullets, of course, had hit his vest, but a third had scraped his shoulder, and the cry out of pain had you nearly hysterical. Luke had taken down the unsub immediately, but you were a flood of tears already, panicking and having and dropping to your knees as you shook, the anxiety of almost losing him flooding your body with adrenaline. 

After all that, he was still the one comforting you. 

“Y/N. Y/N, shhh, it's okay, I'm here. I'm okay. Don't cry were both safe, I saved you. We're safe.” 

You pounded at his chest, but with the others surrounding you, there was nothing to do but stand and pull yourself together, even if you wanted to rage at him and tell and scream. 

He gave out orders and was escorted away to an ambulance, and you wiped your tears and got to work. You'd fucked Spencer, sure, you had been fucking him for months now, but it wasn't a relationship. It certainly wasn't anything your coworkers knew about, and you knew they'd have words if they did know. 

So you wiped your tears, and you put your head down and finished up your work. Then you made your way back to the jet, back to your home, back to your bed, and waited for him to make an appearance. 

You weren't in a relationship, but you knew he'd come. You heard his keys in your door, rolling your eyes at how naive you'd been handing it over - in case of emergencies, really, he had Luke and Penelope’s spare keys as well because they lived alone, it'd be safer. 

You sat up in your bed and waited for him to come in, scoffing when he knocked on your bedroom door.

“Was there a point to that, Spencer?” You asked, calling him in. 

He looked dishevelled, slightly worse for ware, but god did he look good. He wore a new shirt, a bullet hole ripped in the last one, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The top buttons were undone, and he discarded his jacket on your chair before stepping closer. 

“Y/N…” his voice was so tired you almost forgot how angry you were. Almost. 

“No. Don't come to me like that after you pulled that stupid shit today, Spencer.” 

“He was going to shoot you-” 

“He was going to miss. You're taller than me. And if I'd stayed where I was, I would have fired off a round before he could even get one shot in. But you pushed me out of the way and almost got yourself killed instead.”

He stood with his hands on his hips in front of the bed, a scowl on his face as he struggled with words to find next. 

“I won't apologize for saving your life.”

“No, you won't because you didn't save my life. You almost ended yours.”

“Y/N-” 

You knelt on the bed now and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him to his knees. 

“No. I'm done listening, and you're done talking. If you're not going to stop walking into near death experiences, you don't get to walk in here and fuck me.”

He sank to his knees easily, his eyes wide as you sat up on the bed in front of him. You thought of leaving him there the entire night, of kicking him out into the living room to sleep on the couch. If you hadn't been through so much that day, you'd just send him home. 

But sat there on his knees, you saw a flash of desire in his eyes, big and round and needy. 

His gaze flicked to your core, and you suddenly entertained different ways to punish him, to train him out of destructive behaviour. 

“Handcuffs,” you said, holding out your hands for them. He passed them up, and you left the bed, restraining his hands behind his back quickly and grabbing two items from your draws. 

You moved to the bed and knelt again as he looked at you with dark eyes, suddenly aware of what was happening to him. 

“Y/N-” 

“I didn't say you could speak,” you said as you quickly peeled off your nightdress, leaving yourself bare on the bed. 

Usually, you'd feel embarrassed being naked. Even when he undressed you, you felt the urge to cover your tits, to squeeze your legs shut so he couldn't see all of you, to let him pry your hands away, to coax your legs apart. 

Now, you sat confidently, spine straightening as you looked down at him. 

His eyes took in your body, and he winced as if pained when you touched yourself, knowing that usually he alone had that honour. 

“Y/N…”

“One more time, and you won't return to this bed for days. Do you understand?”

Learning, he nodded and sat up again to watch your fingers play with your nipples, twisting them either way as you moaned and sighed above him.

His breathing hitched as you let your hands trail lower and lower until they reached your cunt. You didn't touch yourself yet though. 

“Open,” You said, leaning forward and tapping his chin. He complied, opening his mouth and you shoved two fingers inside.

“Get them nice and wet for me.” 

He licked and sucked your fingers for two minutes, never breaking eye contact as his spit rolled down your hand. 

“Good boy,” you said, pulling them away as you began to touch yourself. Sitting back on your ass, you rubbed your clit, rubbing his spit into your sensitive button, letting him know how good it felt, how close you were to cumming with his spit on your cunt. You plunged one finger in and then another as you watched him bite his tongue, careful not to let even a small sound slip out. 

You didn't even have to glance down to know he was hard. It was in the set of his shoulders, the rapid breaths he took. It was the way he sat back on his heels, rocking back and forth to feel some goddamn friction. 

You couldn't have that. 

You placed your foot on his uninjured shoulder and tried to hold him in place. 

“Don't fucking move,” you said, slipping a second finger inside yourself ad you picked up the pace. Your hips bucked ad you watched him watch your cunt, paying attention to every twitch you made, every moan, breath, gasp, and shudder. 

“I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna- shit! Shit-” 

You came with a spurt, squirting your cum across his face as he leaned closer, desperate to taste you. You grabbed his hair and forced him backwards though, grabbing the two toys beside you as you dropped down to the floor. 

“You're not touching my cunt today, Spencer, not even for a taste. You're not touching anything today.”

You pulled his cock free from his pants and spat on it, not bothering to touch it properly before pushing the cock ring onto him and pressing the on button. 

In a minute he was a moaning mess and you smiled at the painful pleasure disrupting his features. 

“Eyes open, Spencer, you have to keep watching.” 

You kept your eyes locked with his, his mouth open wide in a silent moan as he tried not to cum, desperate to hold out for you as long as he could. 

You climbed back onto your bed and spread your legs again, this time accompanied by a translucent plastic cock. You teased your hole for a few seconds, grabbing Spencer's attention before pushing it in. 

His eyes were stormy as he watched you fuck yourself with your old companion. You hadn't used it in a while, basically since you'd started fucking Spencer. He had rules, and one of them was that you couldn't use the dildo without his permission. He'd never given permission.

The look on his face now was worth whatever punishment he'd had out in the future, a mixture of anger and pathetic arousal, his eyes never leaving your cunt even as his own dick started spurting.

He came quickly, splashing up his shirt, ruining his pants. 

You left him there like that, though, even as he winced from the overstimulation. 

He didn't make a sound still, even as his dick got hard again almost immediately after deflating the first time.

“Look at what a mess you made. You're such a little pervert that you just came all over your shirt and pants. I hope you bought a spare, Spencer.” 

His fight was gone as he looked at you again, only lust left as he panted and writhed beneath you. 

You kept riding the dildo, burying It between pillows so you could ride it easier without needing to hold it. 

He watched transfixed as his cock twitched again, vibrating still right on his balls. 

“Tell me how good it feels, Spencer.’

“Hurts… Y/N, so good…. it hurts.”

You smiled down at him and kept asking him questions, knowing he'd never be able to stay quiet now. 

“Do you want to cum again?” 

“Fuck…yes, please, Y/N, please.”

“Do you want to cum all over yourself one more time?”

“N-No… messy, want to cum…in you.”

“What a shame, Spencer, but that isn't allowed. I won't let you cum in me if you're going to try to take a bullet in the field.”

“Y/N… p-please,” he whined, and you heard his voice break, hips thrusting up into the air now as he watched you. 

“No. You're going to cum on yourself until you promise not to do it again.”

He shook his head, closing his eyes as he tried to resist cumming for a second time, so out of control. “Please-” 

“You can do it. Promise me.” 

“Y/N, p-please let me cum” he moaned again, his hands pulling at the restraints so he could get this infernal cock ring off of him and bury himself inside of you. 

But it was too late, and his second orgssm stretched out longer than the one before. 

You'd leaned in so close you'd caught a drop of cum on your face, but most of it pooled on him instead. He collapses backwards, his cum coating his stomach and chest, his shirt going translucent in places as the ring kept buzzing. 

His moans were loud now, and immediately, he knew it was too much to wish for round three. 

“I promise! Y/N, I promise, please fuck, I promise.”

You quickly fell to the floor, turning off the cock ring and slipping it off as you kissed him tenderly, thanking him and praising him for doing such a good job for you. 

You rolled him onto his side and removed the handcuffs, immediately pulling them into your lap and massaging them, feeling a bit guilty about the red marks. 

“Spencer?” You asked after a few moments when he seemed to have regained his breath and his senses. 

“Mmm?” 

“We should get you in bed. You need to rest.” 

He nodded and weakly sat himself up, falling into bed beside you. He threw the dildo across the room and nuzzled himself into you, head buried between your breasts. 

You pulled away and came back with a wash cloth, stripping his shirt and pants and cleaning the cum off him as best you could so he could sleep comfortably. 

“I prefer when you do that with your mouth, you know?” He joked, and you playfully hit his leg. He couldn't still be thinking about sex after that. 

But he was. As careful as you were to not overstimulate him again, his cock still rose again, and he pushed your hands away, pulling you up to him. 

“I came twice, but you only did it once,” he whispered between kisses. 

“It seems like we need to get even.”

With that, you knew that your turn being in charge was over, and he was the leader now.

"But only if you beg for it," you smirked, looking up at him, but he easily flipped you over, pushing you up so you were kneeling on the sheets above him again, him undernesth you. 

You happily followed him as he pulled your dripping core over his mouth, and he pulled you in for one last taste, begging you for forgiveness with his tongue again and again.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Perhaps Reader and Zach have just started dating, it is fairly new. They are in the park playing fotball (she sucks at it) and Zach accidently kicks the ball in her face and she gets a concussion. Through out the ordeal of taking her to his car, taking her home, getting her to bed etc, he is very off, a bit moopy and sad, thinking he has fucked up his chance of dating her because he hurt her

accidents happen

warnings: concussions, injury, non-sexual nudity (like in a domestic, getting dressed kinda way), a lil bit of angst but mostly fluff + comfort.

a/n: this is so cute

MASTERLIST

“I knew there was a reason you brought that ball.” You joked when he suggested the idea, him smiling at your reply.

“You just know me so well.”

“I do.” You nodded, giving him a kiss on his cheek before he walked backwards, ball in his hands. “Go easy on me!”

He saluted you, both of you laughing while he dropped the ball to his feet, kicking it up into the air multiple times, then juggling it with his knees.

“You’re just showing off now!” You shouted from across the grass, him looking up at you and smiling with a small shrug, before grabbing it with his hands, and finally kicking it over to you.

You smiled, attempting to kick it back but failing miserably, only kicking it a few feet in front of you, before you sighed in embarrassment. Maybe football wasn’t your thing.

Zach didn’t laugh at you, instead, he told you to keep kicking it till you made it over to him. You did so, and he had it in moments. He held his hand out for you to high five, you holding out your hand and the both of you laughing.

“Not the worst I’ve seen.” He shrugged, you rolling your eyes.

“I never said I would be good.”

You walked back over to where you were before, and he smiled, waiting until you were ready to kick it over to you.

He hasn’t meant to exactly kick it as high up as he had, but as soon as he noticed, his eyes went wide.

He had regretted the kick as soon as he saw it fly into the air and your smile fade as soon as you saw it flying straight towards your face. You began to held out your hands to catch it, but before you could, the ball collided with your face in an instant.

“Shit.” He mumbled, bolting over to you when you hit the ground with a groan. He ignored the ball rolling away, his only focus on you now.

He kneeled down, seeing the way your eyes were fluttering open and closed, him staring down at you, his hand running through his hair as he looked around the park for someone to help. “Shit.” He repeated louder this time, grabbing out his phone to start dialing 911.

He grabbed your hand, beginning to talk to the dispatcher.

“Zach?” You murmured, your eyesight blurry and confused as to where you were for a moment.

“Hey, hey, baby. I’m here, I’m here. You’re okay.”

“What happened?” You asked him with a quiet voice, attempting to sit up before he told you to lay back down.

“Uhm- just stay there, sweetheart.” He told you, you listening with furrowed eyebrows.

“Just… no, no, she’s not bleeding.” He spoke on the phone, checking the back of your head and your forehead, you furrowing your eyebrows.

“Yes. Thank you.” He sighed out, you looking at him with confusion on your face.

The dispatcher told him to stay on the phone, so he put it on speaker while he helped you sit up again, you wrapping your arms around him, taking him aback.

He let you wrap your arms around his body, leaning into his shoulder, until the ambulance came by.

They came up to the both of you, truck not too far away, parked on the side street.

“Hey,” Zach nodded to the woman, who looked down at him. Zach slowly moved, peeling you off from him, and watching as they asked you multiple questions, feeling around your head, and your neck.

Zach watched nervously, biting his fingernails while he watched.

“Does it hurt when I push?” She asked you, to which you nodded.

“Do you know what park you’re at?” She asked, you glancing around, looking at Zach. You nodded again, saying the name of the park. “Do you remember what you were doing before you got hit?”

You still stared at Zach, nodding again. “I think… I was playing soccer? I don’t remember that well.”

Zach nodded at you, sighing in relief that at least you didn’t have memory loss.

“How are you feeling right now?”

“My head really hurts… and I feel a little dizzy.”

“Do you think you’d be able to stand up and walk to my truck?”

“Yeah… I think so.” You told her, she smiled and held her hands out, helping you stand up and walk, Zach following right behind.

They made you fill out a list of symptoms, even more questions and tests, questioning your boyfriend as well to know what happened.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you both were done and you were cleared to go with Zach.

“So, she has a mild concussion at the moment.” The woman explained, him swallowing and nodding, listening to her explain. He felt terrible, and he wanted nothing more than to reverse it.

“Now, it doesn’t look like her symptoms are severe, so as long as they aren’t persistent, and last longer than usual, she should be okay. Just make sure she takes it easy and rests. And if anything gets worse, make sure to take her to the emergency room.”

He nodded, watching you walk up to him, and get closer to him, tiredness visible in all your features.

The ambulance drove away, him sighing and cupping your face in his hands.

“I am so… fucking sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to do that. Like at all-“

You didn’t reply, just giving him a small smile, him giving you another fake one, putting his hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the passenger seat.

He stood outside for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, annoyed and frustrated with himself. His leg bounced while he drove, the silence in the car slowly killing him. He glanced back at you every once in a while, making sure you were okay, that you were still breathing.

Once he pulled up to his house, he got out and opened the passenger door for you, you staring at him with a dazed smile on your face. He held his hand out for you, helping you out of the car and onto the pavement.

“Are your parents home?” You asked him, him furrowing an eyebrow.

“Out on some vacation.” He replied, pulling out his keys and opening the front door.

“Do you want something to eat? Or drink?” He asked you while kneeling down in front of you to untie your shoes.

“I guess.” You replied, although you wanted to go to sleep, you were hungry after the exhausting day. “Can I get like a tylenol too? My heads killing me.” You mumbled the last part, your hands massaging your temples.

He went into the kitchen, making you the quickest meal he could think of while you sat in his bed.

As he grabbed the tylenol, he swallowed, sighing to himself as he poured two out of the container. He was the cause of it, he was the reason you felt like shit. He was never gonna stop beating himself up over this.

He went into the room, handing the bowl, and a water bottle to you as well as the two pills.

You gave him a small smile, “thank you.” You told him quietly, before beginning to eat. He nodded, giving you a smile back before going into his drawers, searching through his clothes to find something you could wear.

He ended up just giving you a pair of his boxer shorts, as well as a baggy white shirt. After, you stood up to get changed.

Despite saying you didn’t need it, he helped you get dressed anyways. The whole thing felt so… weirdly intimate. It felt domestic.

Zach’s mind continued to wander, thinking about how he was such an idiot, how you probably hated him while you thought of how amazing he was, how he was the sweetest man you think you’ve ever been with.

The both of you got underneath the covers, him staring up at the ceiling while you stared at him with your head slightly tilted to the side, a frown on your face.

“What’re you thinking about?” You asked him quietly, him turning to face you, shaking his head.

“Nothing.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“I’m serious. I’m fine. Go to sleep, don’t worry about me.” He mumbled.

“No you’re not, you’ve been off the entire day today.”

“I’m sorry. I just… it’s not you. I just feel bad. And I feel like shit, and I feel like I screwed everything up. But-“

“Zach, you didn’t screw anything up. It was an accident.”

“But- I gave you a concussion. I am the reason you feel like shit.”

“Yeah, you did. But it’s okay. I know you didn’t… mean to. Zach, you’re the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.”

He had a slight pout on his face, moving closer to you now, wrapping his arms around you, you moving your face into the crook of his neck.

“I love you. So much.” He murmured quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“I love you too. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He replied, his mind finally at ease with your words.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hey could I get an Angsty fic with wife Olivia Benson/Emily Prentiss (which ever you want) where the reader is a detective/profiler and gets hurt badly and Emily/olivia are the ones to find them and they have to keep them awake until the paramedics get there?

You can pick the injury

Hey @yanginginthere! 😊 It's been a minute since I wrote for Olivia, so that's what I did here! Hope you enjoy! –illdowhatiwantthanks

Eyes Open

Olivia Benson x fem!reader Warnings: MAJOR BIG HUGE WARNINGS for gun violence/school shootings, blood, death, etc., medical emergencies, near-death situation, hospitals, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.0k

Summary: When the rest of the squad is hesitant to enter the scene of a school shooting, you make one of the rashest decisions of your life--one you might not come back from. Your wife, Olivia, races to get to you in time.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought as you watched blood pour from your abdomen. You were on the ground before you knew what was happening, before you could evaluate the situation. You pressed your hands over the gunshot wound, trying not to think about how much blood was seeping between your fingers.

You glanced around the room, panicked, nearly sick to your stomach. The racetrack rug, the little cubbies, the bodies. You wretched and vomited before collapsing onto your back. Your partner, Mendoza, lay on the opposite side of the room, pale, wide-eyed, still. Dead. He was dead. You swallowed back tears. Now was not the time to cry.

The shooter’s blood had sprayed across the bookshelves when you shot him. You couldn’t get close enough to feel for a pulse, but he wasn’t moving. So he was at least incapacitated. What you needed was to call for backup, to get the rest of the cowards from the NYPD–the ones who sat outside to wait for backup while you could hear children screaming–to get their asses in here and help. You and Mendoza had gone in against orders, had ignored a direct command from a superior officer to wait for backup. And, god knows, you’d both paid for it, but if even one child made it out that wouldn’t have otherwise, it would be worth it.

You felt for your radio at your side and groaned when you realized it had been shot by the same bullet that was now lodged inside of you. Your vision was starting to grow fuzzy; it was only a matter of time until you passed out. And who knew how long until backup finally decided to enter the elementary school?

You heard movement and jerked your head to the side to see the very top of a small head poking out from the supply closet.

“Hey!” you shouted, crying out in relief. The child shrank back, and you called, “No, no, no, it’s okay! It’s okay. I know it’s scary. It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m a police officer. I’m here to help you. That man with the gun, he can’t hurt you anymore. But I need your help. Do you think you could come out here and help me?”

The boy poked his head out again, a little bit farther, and you could see that his face was tear-stained, covered in snot. Your heart broke for him. You wanted to cry. You hated to traumatize him further, but you also knew that if you didn’t get backup and EMTs in here as soon as possible, more people were going to lose their lives–including you.

“Hi, honey,” you said as he stared at you, wide-eyed. “My name’s Y/N. What’s yours?”

He sucked in a breath, then shakily replied, “Arturo.”

You nodded. “Arturo. That’s a nice name. You’re being really brave, sweetheart. Is there anyone else in there with you?”

He nodded his head.

“How many people?”

Arturo held up five fingers.

“Five?” you asked, trying to focus your eyes.

He nodded.

“Are there any grown-ups?”

His face screwed up, like he was about to cry, and he shook his head.

“Okay, honey. That’s okay. Listen. Arturo, we need to call for help so the other police officers and the ambulance drivers can get in here and help everybody. Okay?”

He didn’t respond. You pointed to your busted radio. “My walkie talkie broke, but my partner’s should still work. He’s right over there… just–” You shuddered. God, you were having a child grab a device from a dead body. This poor kid. All these poor kids. But you didn’t know what else to do. “Just don’t look at his face or anything,” you told him. “The walkie talkie on his belt, that’s what we need. Can you do that for me, Arturo?”

He shook as he stood, and you could tell he’d wet himself in fear. Tears sprang to your eyes as you watched him wobble toward Mendoza’s body. “You’ve already been so brave, buddy, I just need you to be brave a little bit longer.”

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to fight the dizziness that swam inside your head.

“It’s stuck,” Arturo whimpered, and you snapped your eyes open.

“Okay, buddy,” you said, wracking your brain for a solution. “That’s alright. Umm… there’s a little button on the side, do you see that?”

Arturo nodded, his fingers wet with Mendoza’s blood.

“Alright, just press the button and hold it down, and then repeat what I say. Okay, Arturo?”

“Okay,” he whimpered, holding his little hand against the radio.

You exhaled sharply, as the pain in your abdomen surged. “Say, This is Officer Y/L/N.”

He repeated it, looking at you with wide, scared eyes.

“Badge number 11227.”

You gulped as your vision blurred, trying to be as concise as possible.

“Shooter is down. Officers down. Requesting immediate backup and medical assistance.”

You could feel your body falling out of consciousness, could hear Arturo talking to the other officers through the radio, but it was far away, as if you were in a tunnel.

“Please help,” he cried, fresh tears running down his cheeks. “She’s not talking anymore.”

The last thought you had before blacking out was that your wife would kill you if you died.

“Clear!” Olivia shouted, moving from classroom to classroom at PS 717, gun at the ready. The rest of the officers stopped as needed to help evacuate children and school staff, to give first aid as needed, but she and Elliot were single-minded. They had one job, and she had insisted it be theirs as the NYPD prepared to enter the scene: find the shooter and confirm that he was down.

The last person they had heard from was you. Well, a little boy who had your name and badge number and said all the right things and, therefore, was presumably with you. She was furious with you, furious that you’d gone in without backup, furious that you were so goddamned good and brave, that you would be willing to sacrifice your life for these kids, even though it was one of the things she loved most about you. And, truthfully, underneath all that fury was just plain fear. Absolute terror. Where were you?! Obviously you were hurt if you couldn’t call in yourself. And, from the sound of it, it had been you who took down the shooter.

“Liv!” Elliot yelled from a classroom down, and she sprinted toward him, her heart in her throat. Elliot was already on the radio: “We need medical here stat! East wing of the school, fourth classroom on the right. We’ve got two officers down, shooter down, multiple civilian casualties.”

Olivia burst into the classroom, her eyes quickly taking in the damage: Mendoza down, shooter down, kids crying in the corner, civilians down, and you. Her heart was in her throat as she holstered her gun and dropped to your side.

“No, no, no, baby,” she cried, cradling your limp head and feeling for a pulse. “Stay with me, sweetheart. You are too damn stubborn to go out like this.” Your pulse was thready and weak, as was your breath. She brushed your hair out of your face, trying hard to keep herself breathing, to not fall apart, not yet. She smacked you lightly on the face until you coughed and blinked your eyes open.

Olivia let out a sob of relief and caressed your face, pressing her free hand on top of yours to stifle your bleeding.

“Liv?” you groaned. Then weakly pointed in the direction of the shooter. “Is he…”

“He’s down, baby, he’s dead. You got him.”

You coughed again and winced, your body shaking with cold or trauma or both. “Arturo?” you asked, glancing around for him.

“The little boy?” she clarified. You nodded. “He’s safe, he’s okay. He’s with Elliot.”

Your body started to shake more violently and it was if, finally, the terror of the day had caught up with you. Tears streamed down your face. Your skin was clammy and your breath came in short huffs. You weren’t stupid. You knew what they meant, all the signs in your body: hypovolemic shock. You’d lost too much blood. You were dying.

You’d like to say that, in what you assumed were your dying moments, your life flashed before your eyes, that you thought of everything you’d experienced and everything you’d not yet been able to. But, honestly, you were just scared. And sad to leave Olivia.

“I love you,” you choked out as your eyelids fluttered between open and shut.

“No, no,” Olivia protested, grasping your face in her hands. “Don’t you fucking say goodbye to me, Y/N. This is not fucking goodbye! You keep your eyes open, Officer. That’s a direct order!”

And you really did try. You really did fight to keep Olivia’s face in front of you, her terrified, tear-stained face. You just couldn’t bear to leave her, not like this.

When you finally lost consciousness, Olivia yelling your name was the last thing you heard.

You woke up god knows how much later in a hospital bed, with several wires attached to you and an ungodly amount of pain in your abdomen, not to mention a mouth so dry it felt like your tongue had been left to dehydrate.

Before you knew what was happening, Olivia’s lips were on yours, her hands grasping the side of your face so tightly you thought there was a good chance she might never let you go.

“You fucking asshole,” she cried, her tears wet against your skin. “You almost died!”

She kissed you a few more times for good measure, then leaned back to look at you, your own tears streaming now. She sniffled and wiped your eyes, smiling even as she cried. “Why do you have to be so goddamned brave, huh?”

You shrugged, then winced. “No, no, don’t move!” she exclaimed. “Just… let yourself rest, okay?” She shook her head. “You really scared me.”

“I’m sorry, love,” you croaked out. You blinked tears away and looked at the ceiling, trying hard to banish the mental images of Mendoza, of the blood, of the civilians. “I just… I couldn’t…”

“I know,” she said, taking your hand. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

You coughed and frowned at her. “You better fucking not.”

She pointed to the table next to your hospital bed, stacked with cards and flowers. “You’ve got quite a lot of fans now.”

You shook your head. You didn’t deserve fans. If anyone deserved the recognition, it was Mendoza. You tried not to think of him, knew you’d start crying if you did.

“Here,” Olivia said, holding out a folded sheet of paper. “Read this one. It’s good.”

There was a stick-figure drawing of you as a superhero and a messy, misspelled note:

Dear Ofiser Y/L/N, thak you so much for helpig me be brav and for gettig the bad gy. Yor my heero. Arturo Guerrero.

Your eyes were swimming by the time you finished reading it. You should be the one thanking him.

“The NYPD’s giving you a Medal of Honor, too, when you’re well enough. You’re a hero, honey,” Olivia said, tracing your cheekbone with her thumb. “A dumb, brave idiot of a hero. But my hero, all the same.”

You didn’t know how you felt about this hero business, didn’t feel like you deserved it. You’d just done your job. And your job required a bit more of you this time around.

“Liv,” you ventured, uncomfortable.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please don’t call me that.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “A hero?”

You nodded.

“What should we call you then?”

You smiled wryly. “Just Y/N.”

Olivia leaned forward to brush your hair out of your face, staring lovingly at you. “How about love of my life?”

You smiled and squeezed her hand. “Yeah. That’ll do.”

[neuroticboyfriend]

not that people who've been to the ward are immune from being pro-psych, but if you've never been to a psych ward*, i sincerely don't want to hear about how psychiatry/psychology is good because you've had such a good experience with X provider, or X medication saved your life. *i also don't want to hear about how the forced treatment was what you needed or how the ward you went to let you have your cellphone etc. etc. i genuinely do not want to hear it.

like. the first hospitalization traumatized me so bad, i became dangerously delusional, was re-hospitalized, and sent to state. when they transferred me, i was strapped down into a gurney at all points on my body, *head and neck included*, and loaded onto an ambulance. my parents lost most of their parental rights; i was a ward of the state and had near zero rights. when i got there, they made me choose if, "if necessary," if i wanted to be wrangled down and forcibly injected with a sedative... or wrangled down and locked in a padded room all by myself (but at least i had a choice, right?). i signed consents and paperwork that i did not fucking understand. then i was told i'd be locked inside for 2 straight weeks (which yes, they followed through with). the psych ward was remote, nothing but barbed fences and trees around us. cant even see the sun through the heavily tinted windows. that was the *start* of the stay. i'm sure you can imagine nothing good came after.

so like. if you walk out of a place like that thinking it was good for you, then i can only imagine how traumatized you are and i hope you heal someday. but if you've never faced the destruction of your autonomy like that and go around being like "oh this is good actually" then shut the ever living fuck up.

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one)

Hello, and welcome back to Addams Family B-Side, where I take my Addams Family Steddie idea and flip the cassette tape

This is part of a larger series in which I give Steve Harrington good parents from different shows/movies/etc. If there are any other people you think would make good parents for Steve, let me know! I'll take them into consideration and see if inspiration sparks :D

Also, there's a meme at the end, so enjoy that hfjks

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

---------

Just because Steve finds Eddie Munson fascinating, that doesn't mean he's going to immediately move to wooing the guy. Well. He would, but his mother has some reasonable yet strict rules about these things, the first of all being that Steve can't like someone just for a pretty face. Or sizable personal wealth. He's got to talk to the person to figure out if they can stand each other before commencing the romancing.

Steve doesn't see himself getting a chance to talk to Eddie anytime soon, so he morosely (and it's not even fun this time) puts his fascination on the back burner for the rest of the day.

Then school ends, and Pubert has some after-school commitment, so Steve waits for him in the grossest bathroom he can find on campus. It's near the fine arts hall, has a flickering light above the mirror, and sports mold in one corner that Steve is tempted to harvest for Grandmama. He bets it'd make a great ingredient for something.

He's just about to scrape some of the mold away when the door slams open. Steve looks up in time to see Eddie (his eyes wide and somewhat terrified, and Steve is briefly angry and consumed by the thought that he's the only one who should be making Eddie scared like that) slip across the tile and crash into the wall on the far side of the bathroom.

Steve is momentarily stunned by Eddie's appearance, his heart lurching in his chest and the sudden urge to hide behind something rearing its head. In the back of his mind, he remembers his father describing the first time he saw Debbie; how he clammed up and was so in awe of her that he couldn't say a thing. Steve finally gets it. If he tried to speak right now, he'd probably only mumble or mutter something unintelligible.

Steve is about to try anyway when the door slams open again and three other boys walk in. They're wearing letterman jackets, and Steve recognizes one of them from lunch. He wasn't the boy who called Eddie a prick, but he was sitting at that table and looking particularly annoyed. Now, he just looks taken aback by Steve's presence, and the feeling is mutual.

"You're that new kid, right?" he asks, his lips pulled back in a sneer as he looks Steve up and down. "Get out."

"I was here first," Steve says, frowning slightly as he glances from the boys to Eddie. "What are you doing?"

"We're teaching this dipshit a lesson for disrespecting us," the guy says, cracking his knuckles and narrowing his eyes at Steve. "So, unless you want your ass kicked, too, get out."

Oh. This is bullying. Steve blinks, a sudden glee building in his chest. He glances at Eddie. "Were you planning to fight back?" he asks, figuring he won't take that fun away.

Eddie stares at him like he's clinically insane, and Steve is a little flattered. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Eddie asks, throwing a hand out and gesturing at the guys. "They're brick shithouses."

Steve hums softly and nods, swinging his backpack off his shoulders and opening the main pocket. As he's rummaging around, he hears the ringleader of the jocks (that's what they'd be called in a movie, he thinks) scoff at him. "Are you fucking dumb? Or are you that eager for a ride in an ambulance?" he asks.

Finally, Steve finds what he's looking for and smiles. "Oh. No. I just had to get a weapon," he says, pulling his travel mace out of his bag. He presses a button and spikes release from the ball on the end. Steve looks up at the jocks with an eager smile. "Who first?"

"What the fuck is that?!"

Steve blinks, a little worried about the public education system. "It's a weapon. A mace, to be exact. There's three of you. This evens the odds," he explains.

The three take a step back, looking at Steve like he's clinically insane, and this time he's disgusted by the gesture. "You're fucking crazy," the first one says before turning heel and leaving the bathroom. The other two follow closely behind, and Steve has to stifle the sheer disappointment.

He sighs and retracts the spikes, placing the mace back into his bag. "Are you disappointed you didn't get to fight?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve's attention back.

Eddie is noticeably more relaxed now, and he's looking at Steve like he's an enigma. That's not quite as good as clinically insane, but it's still flattering nonetheless. Steve swallows down the nerves that suddenly appear again, trying to channel his mother's calm confidence instead. "A little," he admits, zipping up his bag before slinging it back onto his shoulders. "I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington."

"Oh, uh, Eddie Munson."

"I know. I saw you at lunch."

Eddie perks up a little, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah? And what did you think, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at him for a moment before taking a step forward, the faint scent of weed and cheap body spray making its way to him. He makes a quick mental note to look into colognes for one that would fit Eddie best (perhaps something crisp and harsh like a wild blizzard with inescapable winds). "I think," Steve says, holding Eddie's gaze, "that you've got incredible conviction."

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome," Steve says, studying Eddie a moment longer. "Let me know if they bother you again. I can pull out a bomb next time."

Before Eddie can respond, the door swings open for a third time. Steve looks over his shoulder and pulls back when he sees Pubert. "Ready to go?" Pubert asks, glancing between the two. "Or am I interrupting something?"

"Not interrupting. And yeah, ready to go."

"Wait, how do you know Pubert Addams?" Eddie asks, looking between the two with a frown. The emotion in his eyes is recognizable if only because Steve has seen it in his mother's eyes when someone beats her to a sale or happens to be wearing a nicer necklace. Jealousy, plain and simple.

Steve grins at Eddie, ready to soothe his jealousy when Pubert cuts in. "Save it," he says, grabbing Steve's hand, "we're gonna be late." With that, he pulls Steve out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"What was that for?" Steve asks.

"I've got to get my entertainment somehow," Pubert replies, smirking as he drops Steve's hand. "Watching someone be jealous will do for a while."

-----

When Steve gets home, leaving Pubert on the sidewalk without another glance because he's too excited to get inside and tell his mother about the crush that he's talked to, he finds only his father in the kitchen. Without needing to be asked, Fester says, "Debbie and Morticia went to get their nails done. It was an emergency. Apparently, Debbie couldn't tear open letters as easily anymore."

Steve nods once and drops his bag onto the island. "I'm in love," he announces.

His father freezes, a tray of roasted vegetables in his hands. A few moments pass before Fester fully processes Steve's words, and he asks, "Have you talked to them? You know your mother's rule."

"I have," Steve says, unable to help a grin, "and he's perfect."

Fester drops the tray onto the stovetop, and Steve suddenly finds himself lifted into the air and spun around. "In love! Oh, I hope it's miserable for you," Fester says.

Steve laughs, nearly tripping over his feet when Fester sets him down. "I haven't decided how to approach him yet," he admits, grabbing onto the counter for support.

"Tell me about him," Fester says, grabbing Steve's shoulders and staring intensely at him. It's like he thinks he'll be able to read Steve's mind if he refrains from blinking long enough.

Steve pushes his father into one of the chairs at the kitchen's island. "His name is Eddie Munson. He's got this wild look to him. Like, his hair is all wavy and kinda poofy like he got half-electrocuted. And his eyes are the most beautiful swamp-mud brown I've ever seen. He speaks with conviction and has a shirt with a demon head on it and has all these rings and spikes on his vest. And he looks incredible when he's terrified. I mean, if I hadn't been so angry, I would've proposed right there," Steve gushes, the words falling from him in a breathless rush.

"What made you angry?" Fester asks, quickly latching to the last point.

"These...jocks. That's what they're called. Jocks. They were chasing him for stuff he said at lunch. He made this whole speech at lunch, by the way. It was incredible. Way too short and just barely addressing the actual issues and he'd never win a single political campaign. Anyway, these jocks, they chased him into the bathroom where I was, and they had him outnumbered and were muscular, so he was scared of getting beat up, I think. They threatened to beat me up, too, which I was excited about, but they ran away when I pulled out my travel mace. I mean, how rude is that? It's just bad form to run when someone's pulled out a weapon."

"And he wasn't angry about you taking his chance to fight?" Fester asks.

"Not at all! He seemed relieved. I think he might be better with, you know, poisons or something," Steve explains, shrugging slightly. He knows everyone has their specialties; he's a master of physical brawls and fights, Pubert does best with explosives, his mother just has a way with words and manipulation, and his father can give people the creeps just by looking at them.

Fester nods, an eager grin taking over his face. "You've got to start wooing him!" he says, slapping his hand on the island counter and pushing himself out of his seat. "Start small, something to test the waters."

"Oh! I could get him a rat," Steve says, thinking of the ones that like to burrow around in their yard. They're big and fearless, and Steve used them to practice his prowling and hunting when he was young. He's got many fond memories of crouching and pouncing right before they scattered across the yard.

"Wait," Fester says, holding up a hand and thinking for a moment, "we should think like your mother. She's the most romantic person we know."

"She blew you up," Steve agrees, nodding seriously. "She'd probably say that I shouldn't give him a live rat. Because he's, uh, not like us?" Steve looks at Fester, waiting for his father to nod once in approval before continuing, "I think Mom talked about stuffed animals once. So, maybe I can get him a stuffed rat, instead."

"Yes! Good! And then you should...learn about his interests! What does he like?" Fester asks.

"I'll have to watch him to find out. I can probably make him something once I know. I mean, he's probably got normal interests, like bugs and poisons and torture practices, right? That's what most people like."

"Don't forget dancing or music."

"Right," Steve says, "dancing or music. But he'll probably have special interests, too. Like Satanism. I should watch for those."

With something akin to a plan in place, Steve leaves Fester to sneakily poison the roasted vegetables while he plans the first step of wooing Eddie.

-----

Ever since meeting Steve Harrington in the bathroom, Eddie has been feeling eyes on him. Not even the normal kind that are annoyed or just curious about the school's resident freak. No, these eyes are...intense. They're laser-focused on his every move and clearly filled with some kind of intentions that he can't discern.

He just doesn't know where they're coming from. When he looks around to see who's staring, he can't find anyone. It's been driving him crazy for almost a week now, and Eddie is just about ready to scream when he opens his locker and...

And finds a rat.

Like, a real rat.

Well, it's dead, but it was alive once. Eddie blinks, staring at the taxidermied rat innocently sitting on top of the pile of books and papers and folders stacked in his locker. It's big and has a surprisingly shiny brown coat, kind of like someone had given the thing a thorough wash with extra shampoo and conditioner. There's a blood-red ribbon wrapped around the rat's neck, a perfect bow tied behind its head, with a tag hanging from it. When Eddie hesitantly turns the tag over, he finds "Name: Kas" at the top and "Hope you like him" written on the bottom in careful, meticulous handwriting.

It should be creepy. It should be disturbing. Eddie should be paranoid beyond reason because how did the mystery gifter even know his locker combination? Did they stuff this rat themselves? Did they kill the rat themselves? Why the fuck would they give him a rat?

But...it's oddly...sweet? Somehow, Eddie can feel that it's not, like, a malicious gift. And he likes the rat. Kas. He likes Kas. Its fur is surprisingly soft when he picks it up, and Eddie spends a good minute just rubbing his thumb over its back.

Then he feels those eyes on him again. They're even more intense this time, like they're watching him closely to see his reaction and...oh. Is this...a weird secret admirer? Does Eddie "The Freak" Munson have a secret admirer? A weird one, sure, because who the fuck gifts taxidermied rats, but still.

He looks around, taking in the other students in the semi-crowded hallway, trying to find those eyes. He doesn't find anyone staring at him, but he does end up staring himself at Steve Harrington. The guy is leaning on a locker across the hall, inexplicably fiddling with a lightbulb as he talks to Pubert Addams, who's digging around in his own locker. If Eddie squints, he could almost convince himself that Steve's cheeks are a little pinker than normal.

After a few seconds, Steve glances up and meets his gaze. They stare at each other for a few tense moments, something building in Eddie's chest as the weight of Steve's eyes surrounds him. It doesn't feel bad, but he's not used to being the center of someone's attention like this. Normally, people are frowning when they pay attention to him. Or, if they're his friends, goading him on and joining in the joke. But this is different, like Steve finds him fascinating.

And then Pubert Addams slams his locker door shut and looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowing when he sees Eddie staring at Steve. He frowns, throws an arm over Steve's shoulders, and pulls him away. Pubert's shoulders are a little tense, his expression sour as he says something to Steve that results in one last, furtive glance at Eddie before he's out of sight.

Suddenly, nothing is more important to Eddie than figuring out what the fuck is going on between Steve Harrington and Pubert Addams.

------

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane,

And now, a meme for your viewing pleasure:

[ikilledyvette]

THINGS I'D LOVE TO SEE IN SEASON 8 of 9-1-1

(in no particular order)

More Hen & Buck scenes, with or without tequila. (One of my favorite things about S6 was all the Hen and Buck time.)

Literally any kind of happy storyline for Maddie where she doesn't have to cry. (Let that poor woman breathe! JLH has been crying for literal decades now!)

Buck and Tommy continue their sweet, funny, and actually interesting romantic relationship. They can fight or have problems, sure, but not stupid bullshit problems created for The Drama. If they absolutely must break up, it's not because one or both of them have spontaneously turned into assholes. THERE WILL BE NO INFIDELITY, GODDAMNIT.

Seriously, though, Buck/Tommy are so fucking adorable, so ideally for me ... no breakup at all, please.

Zero romance for Eddie. Instead, Eddie goes back to therapy (with Frank, grief support group, etc.) and then fixes things with Christopher when Christopher comes back. (WHEN, I say, because the alternative is far too bleak.) Eddie can have romance again in S9, after he's doing better, and if the writers ever manage to give him a canonical love interest that he actually seems interested in. (TBH, I'd give someone's LEFT HAND to see Aromantic Eddie, but even for a dream list, that seems ... unlikely.)

One episode dedicated to Team Shenanigans and Hijinks. Alternatively, someone (probably Eddie) says the q-word again.

Buck having a delayed emotional breakdown about one of the following traumas: getting his leg crushed by a firetruck, surviving a tsunami, seeing Eddie get shot right in front of him, being a savior baby/lousy parents are still lousy, etc.

Someone in the 118 specifically chooses NOT to forgive their shitty parents, and everyone else on the team supports that decision. My personal favorites here are Chim and Buck, but honestly, I would take anyone. (Tommy, too, and I suspect he's the most likely candidate.)

Eddie is in full Passive Aggressive Sass Mode whenever dealing with Gerard. I want the same sort of bitchy commentary he made while he was taken hostage in that ambulance.

Let Eddie and Maddie actually have a scene together! They have a frankly weird amount in common for characters who basically never interact! (Alternatively, let Eddie and Linda's friendship from S5 continue! They can text each other recipes or something!)

More Radiohead and/or surreal nightmare imagery because that scene from "Chimney Begins" still haunts me in the best of ways.

The reappearance of any or all of the following characters (with the caveat that they are NOT allowed to die): Eli, Carla, Albert, Frank, Ruth from the gas station, and—of course—Karen. Always more Karen.

[sturniololoco]

Big Game pt 6

Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS) x Nathan Doe

Warnings: blood, falling, kissing, wall punching?, etc.

Nate’s POV

I lifted SLS/N off the couch as I heard the ambulance pull up to the warehouse. The EMTs rushed over and took her from me, laying her on a stretcher and asking her questions. She was only able to mumble little responses as they lifted her into the back of the van.

I climbed in with her, holding her hand. She tried to squeeze back, but could barely manage in her current state. Chris tried to climb in as well, but the EMT stopped him.

"Only one in the van." He grunted, working fast to check SLS/N's blood pressure.

Chris looked at me, his eyes fearful. I began to stand up to let him in, but Matt stopped me.

"You go with her, we'll follow." He grabbed Chris's arm, leading him to their car in a sprint. Nick was already in the back.

The EMTs closed us in and began working on SLS/N as best they could till we got to the hospital.

-

They unloaded SLS/N out of the van, sprinting the stretcher inside and barking orders. Me right behind them. The only words I could comprehend out of their mouths were "Lost a lot of blood" and "Hurry up".

They got SLS/N to a room and ran her inside. I could see a doctor already in the waiting, gloves on his hand. I began to walk behind her, but a nurse stopped me, telling me I couldn't be in the room with her yet.

She then shut the door in my face, leaving me no choice but to wait for the triplets in the waiting room.

On my way down the hallway, I felt all of the emotions I'd been holding in let go, causing me to punch the wall.

"Fuck!" I yelled into the empty hallway. The tears started welling in my eyes. I couldn't walk, I couldn't breathe.

I sunk down on the floor, tears pouring, my chest tightening uncomfortably. I put my head in my hands and sob.

I then hear loud footsteps running down the hall. I stand up and see the triplets sprinting down the hallway towards me.

Chris gets there first, wrapping me in a hug. I was taken aback but hugged home all the same. He pulled back and held me in front of him by the shoulders, looking at me with red puffy eyes due to crying.

"Chris, I can't lose her. I love her so goddamn much." I say to him, my voice shaking and coming out in sobs. He pulls me back in, Matt and Nick joining us this time.

"We know Nate," Nick says, not sounding mad, only squeezing me tighter in his embrace.

Then we walk to the waiting room to wait.

-

"Sturniolo?" A nervous voice calls about six hours later. We all jump to our feet and follow her back down the hallway.

She opens the door after saying, "She's awake and responsive, just be quiet. Her head most defiantly hurts."

We nod and then walk through the open door.

SLS/N was lying in her hospital bed, her leg, which was now in a full-on cast, being suspended from a hammock-looking thing.

She gave us a sleepy smile, her own face stained with tears. I walk up to her and kneel beside her bed, grabbing her hand.

"How ya feeling, sweetheart?" I ask her, the tears threatening to fall again.

"I'm fine! I got a new haircut!" She says, her voice coming out raspy from sleep. She takes her arm and flips her hair to the side, allowing us to see a square of hair shaved off, now replaced with stitches.

I let out a breathless laugh. Only SLS/N would be joking right now.

I stood up, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and then backed away, allowing her brothers to check in on her. Chris wouldn't stop apologizing, no matter how many times she told him "I'm okay, It was an accident."

He eventually gave up and settled for a hug. Nick and Matt also said their hello's, checking in on their baby sister.

-

Nick went to the front desk to work on some paperwork while the rest of us stayed behind with SLS/N.

"Nate?" I hear her call.

I stand up so fast and walk to her side, sitting on the edge of her bed. She gives me grabby hands, signaling that she wants a hug. I do so, despite the awkward angle due to her broken ankle.

I lean in and give her a kiss, deep and passionate, but not too hard so as not to hurt her head. Just as I was about to tell her how much I love her, and how I was glad she was okay, Nick walked back into the room.

"ew, get a room!" He yells, making a fake gagging noise.

"This is my room jackass! You can leave anytime!" She shouted at her brother, who immediately shut up. She pulls my neck, and brings me back in for another kiss.

One more part tomorrow!!!

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq

[househrt]

“Call me if you need me” x “I don’t need you” then calls an ambulance because he accidentally overdosed like a dumbass hilson angst. send ask.

honestly this is their entire dynamic and it has so much gloriously angsty whumpy hurt/comfort-y potential and I accidentally strayed away from the overdose theme but here we go anyway:

like y'know that bit where Wilson says House has never asked him if he's okay, even tho he's watched Wilson fall down a flight of stairs drunk? I like to imagine that scene went like this:

A very wiggly drunk Wilson being helped out of the bar by House, who tells him to quit squirming so much, I'm trying to help you, but Wilson's stubborn and when they come to the stairs, he goes (very slurring) I'm fine, I don't need your help and House lets him go (because honestly the stairs were gonna fuck up his leg anyway, and he wants Wilson to learn this lesson so he'll let himself be helped into the car etc). Cue Wilson's big fall. House makes sure he isn't dying (subtly, so very drunk Wilson doesn't catch him caring) and then takes him home, arguably either dumping him on his doorstep for his wife-at-the-time to deal with, or taking him inside to make sure he actually makes it inside

Also love the vibe of House in his self-surgery era, if Wilson was awake and picked up the phone, where Wilson's like what do you want, I'm tired, it's late and House can't admit he's currently maybe bleeding out in his bathtub. And maybe one of them hangs up and Wilson doesn't find out about it until the next day, when he goes off the rails like why tf didn't you tell me to come get you???? and House is like I had it under control and Wilson just Looks at him because no he absolutely did not

[ask-an-epidemiologist]

This is a periodic PSA (geared towards those living in the United States, as I'm not sure of the protocol for hospitals in other countries: please jump in if it's the same in your area!):

If you are showing signs of an overdose, allergic reaction, or other emergency relating to recreational drug use, it is okay to call an ambulance/go to the hospital. The police can't arrest you unless you have drugs or paraphernalia on your person. Your doctors and nurses won't turn you in, either, because they want people to come in when they are sick, and they know that this will guarantee no one reaches out in emergency. In fact, some states even have relatively new laws that explicitly prohibit hospitals from reporting these patients, just as an added safety measure.

If you took drugs recently, and you have a surgical procedure (including dental ones), you need to tell your care team. They won't report you, but they need to know, because the medications they use can kill you. It may be embarrassing to speak up, but it isn't worth your life.

Many cities have free Narcan in community buildings, and some colleges, fire stations, and etc have free trainings. Some bundle these in with first aid and CPR classes. Go if you can- it could save your life or someone else's.

If you think you are experiencing an emergency, don't let your drug use stop you from seeking help. You deserve to have your life saved, too. I won't lie and say every single doctor is perfect on this, because doctors are human beings, but your chances of one fucking you over and trying to get the police involved are low enough that I'd take that gamble over a potential overdose or allergic reaction any day.

It will be scary- and if you need to call a friend to help you through and advocate for you, that is totally okay. Whatever it takes to get you in those doors. Just don't take the risk. If something is wrong, you need to be seen, even if- maybe especially if- you've been using.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling the police?

ok so context: I, F15, live near a retirement home. this retirement home is specialised to deal with people with dementia (i think they help people without dementia also but i’m not sure). this just means occasionally we’ll see people who have gotten out of the rest home and are lost. my mum used to work at a rest home, so she knows how to deal with them (there’s a phenomenon known as like the 5 or 6 pm something where people will go “ok, 5pm/sundown, time for me to go home it’s been real guys :)” because they forget they live there). so mum will just flick the rest home a call or something and let them know.

anyway, i was walking home from school and a woman called out to me through the fence of the rest home (outside the main building but she was standing on the grass inside the property). i could tell pretty quickly she had dementia, she was talking in like fragmented sentences and seemed really confused and distressed. i had no idea how to deal with this situation and i wanted to leave but also that’s a human person so i stayed and tried to understand what she wanted. she talked about a lot of stuff and she asked me a few times to call the police because “they’ll know what to do”.

i Did Not want to call the police, and gently tried to redirect her “uh, have you tried asking the people in there *pointing to the retirement home*, they might be able to help you.” etc. this went on for about ten minutes and i just wanted to go home. i pulled out my phone to text mum for help but i didn’t have any data left so the text didn’t go through. at this point she’s seen my phone so saying i didn’t have a phone wouldn’t work as an excuse and to be honest i don’t think she would have understood me anyways.

anyway, i’m stranded without data and at this point the only thing i can think of is to call the police for her, so i do (calling the emergency services doesn’t need data).

(i couldn’t have gone inside the property since its a secure facility because they have dementia patients)

so i’m on the phone with the emergency services, and they say “police, fire or ambulance” and i say “police”. they ask me where i am and i tell them “i’m at ________ retirement home with a lady who’s asked me to call the police” “ok, let me just confirm your location….”

while this is going on, someone who works at the retirement home comes out of the building. here’s where i think i might be the AH. she goes “what’s going on over here?” and i say “um i’m on the phone with the police” and she says “what the fuck?” and speed walks back inside. i now feel extremely guilty and like this was the wrong move completely. after an awkward two minute chat trying to explain to the police why she wanted to call them (i don’t think she knew either) the worker comes back inside with a dude who’s in scrubs and a mask.

“what’s going on over here”

“um i’m just on the phone to the police here would you like to talk to them”

i hand over my phone and they go off a couple metres to talk with the police and i stay with the woman while they do. she seems very confused but i handed something to the workers and now i think she thinks i betrayed her. after a few minutes they hand me back my phone and i take that as a cue to leave. the worker apologies “i’m sorry she has dementia” and i say awkwardly, like i didn’t just call the police on them “yeah um i figured that might be why”. the woman goes “remember i’m here!” and i say “OK!” while i am booking it back home.

i feel like an asshole for calling the police and i feel like an asshole for just abandoning her and not really taking her seriously at all. like what if she was actually being abused?

What are these acronyms?

[shunshunrika]

Angst 10 + Fluff 2 + Fluff 8 + Kaiser

₊˚Ꮚ𓂅୨⊹ JAMAIS VU - Michael Kaiser

warnings - ANGST!! Depiction of car accident, blood, hospitals, swearing, etc.

The sound of deafening sirens, strobing red lights and the screams were overwhelming your brain.

Your hands were on the steering wheel and your eyes were on the road. You were wide awake and absolutely alert, even when listening to Kaiser softly ramble about his day at practice. Your eyes were on the road. Then how did it happen so quickly?

Kaiser had offered to drive home but since you were a new driver and needed practice, you had pushed to be the designated driver. You followed all the rules, were paying attention to all parts of the road and yet, when a semi-truck blasted towards you, possibly due to a brake failure - there was nothing you could do. You couldn't react fast enough. You couldn't move out of its way.

CRASHHH!

The sound of metal crushing metal was so thunderous that you weren't able to process anything before the airbags kicked in and smothered you in your seat. It was silent for a second when you felt the sensation of a heavy body weighing down on you and quickly scrambled to open the car door and crawl out on all fours. Your heart was beating so fast as you saw people run towards the scene of the accident and help you to your feet.

"Mi-Michael?" you asked, turning around to see if anyone knew anything.

"Call the police and the ambulance!" Someone yelled over the crowd.

You fought your way out of their arms to search for Kaiser. You couldn't spot him anywhere near the car until - your eyes fell on a bloodied mass laying underneath two gigantic slabs of car metal. You blacked out after that.

The sterile smell of a hospital room woke you after God knows how long. You lay in the bed, your body aching terribly, eyes wide awake. You jerked up out of your position and were just about to scream when a nurse caught you.

"Michael!? Where's Michael?" You shrieked, trying to escape the nurse's grasp.

"Ma'am-" the nurse grit her teeth. "Calm down. The man who was with you is currently resting. He survived and is stable."

He survived.

"Okay." you say, taking a deep breath and calming yourself down. "Can I see him?"

The nurse hesitated a bit. Bad sign.

"Show me. Take me there." you demanded upon receiving that reaction. The nurse reluctantly helped you to your feet and started guiding you down a lobby and two floors down. You were soon in front of the suites marked "Special Unit"

"Ma'am, I need you to remain calm." the nurse insisted yet your heart wouldn't calm down. You opened the door slowly to see a figure propped up on the bed.

It was Kaiser. He was staring out the window, sitting under a blanket. He looked alright except for some bruises and cuts here and there. He didn't notice any of you come in. Or maybe he did but had no intention to look in your direction.

"Michael?" you asked tenderly, stepping towards him. He looked towards you with glassy blue eyes that bore absolutely no emotion.

"Why are you here?" he asks.

"W-what's wrong? I came to see how you are doing?" you said maintaining your composure but gulping down a big lump.

"Hmm." Kaiser thought for a bit. Maybe he was fine. Maybe he was just tired.

"My legs are completely crushed."

Huh?

"The doctor said I might not be able to walk, let alone play again."

What?

You must have started losing your balance because the nurse immediately moved to catch you.

"M-Michael what are you talking about?" you managed to say, your stomach dropping so low, as if you were about to throw up.

"Didn't you hear me the first time?" Michael said, smiling menacingly, looking like he was about to breakdown.

"I CAN'T PLAY ANYMORE, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" he shrieked making you flinch.

"W-wait. Michael. I-That's not it. Maybe-"

"I should have never let you drive. I told you to let me. This is all your fault!"

"Michael, maybe we can consult another doctor. Maybe we can fly out to another country to try. We have the money for that-"

“Nothing you do will fix things; no amount of money will turn back time.” he hissed through his clenched up jaw.

"Get out of my sight." He spat. "I never want to see your face again."

When you heard those words, your heart shattered into a million pieces. The room started to swirl around you, and you didn't know if you were going to pass out. The shock was so severe that you were thrown out of this scene, Michael and the nurse becoming blobs until they disappeared into the void.

"Hah.. N-no!" you found yourself gasping for air as you woke up, drenched in sweat.

"Y/N." Michael was right beside you, holding your forehead and looking extremely concerned.

"MICHAEL!" you yelled out, hugging him by the neck and making him fall on top of you.

"I am sorry. I am sorry!" you pleaded. "Don't go. Don't leave me. I- We will do something about your legs. So please, don't say you hate me!"

"Y/N!" Michael yelled back. "What's wrong? What happened? You were asleep!"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you were mumbling at first and then you started tossing and turning." he said, rubbing your back to calm you down. His blue eyes bore concern, stark comparison to the emotionless orbs you saw in the dream.

"Your legs!"

"What happened to them?" he asked, confused.

"I crashed the car. Your legs got crushed. They said you'd never walk again." you said between gasps and sobs.

“Shhh, it was just a bad dream. It’s okay, baby.” he said, caressing your hair to calm you down. It helped to some degree.

"Michael-" you began. "Never let me drive when I'm with you okay? What if this is an omen?"

"You kidding?" Michael scoffed. "You think a nervous perfectionist like you would ever make a mistake on the road? You've never even driven one mile over the speed limit. If something happens, it's the other person's fault."

"No! You'll say that and then- then-" you gulped. "In the dream, you said you never wanted to see me again. You hated me!"

"I can never hate you Y/N." he said, kissing your forehead.

"And my destiny is to be the best striker in the world. I ain't losing my legs before that, got it? I reject the notion." he said, smirking at you, making you giggle a little.

“Stay with me, please." you said, cupping his cheek.

"Forever." he said, pulling the blanket over the two of you.

[mrsmiagreer]

Copacabana

Warnings: Angst, a little cussing, fighting and guns, blood mention, alcohol mention, etc.

Characters: David × Gn!Angel

————————————————————————-

Angel worked at a bar. They performed, did shows for anyone who would pay enough, and was damn good at their job. They loved it! The copacabana was the hottest spot, and they were the main attraction. Dancing was the highlight of their night when they got all dressed up in cute short dresses and feathers and jewels.

David worked the bar. He was never one to want to be in the spotlight, but he loved their light. Being able to watch them perform was a gift, and he would steal glances at them when he wasn’t taking an order or making a drink. They started to talk to him, break him out of his shell a little. And sooner than later, they were an amazing pair.

At the copacabana, They fell in love.

One night, everything was going as smooth as it usually does. Location still hot, and performances still most requested. Everyone was encapsulated by the way Angel could Cha Cha and merengue, slide and twirl across the floor. After they were done dancing, some guy requested them specifically to do a personal show, but that wasn’t a rare occurrence. They didn’t figure anything would go wrong about this night.

However, the man got a little handsy and went too far with Angel. David noticed their discomfort, and practically hopped over the bar to get to the two.

“Hey, don’t you see they’re uncomfortable?”

“Back up, this isn’t your business” The man replied

“Can you just fucking get away from them, they clearly don’t like it” He gently pushed at the man’s chest to back him off of Angel. He didn’t receive that very well, as David blinked and opened his eyes to a fist disconnecting from his face. And now it was a fight.

Punches and chairs being thrown, spit and blood splattered across the wooden tables and bar counter. And before anyone knew it, they all heard a loud sound.

“David?? DAVID?! OH MY FUCKING GOD DAVID!!”

David’s blood was all over the floor. Shot in his head they fear. Angel couldn’t process it at first, but when they finally understood the severity of the circumstances, they let out a gut wrenching scream that could be heard from down the street. They kneeled next to his body and checked for a pulse, even though they were sure he was dead, still hopeful that this whole thing could be turned around and the love of their life could be saved. They yelled at the people around them to call the police, call an ambulance, someone do something. But he was gone, and they knew it.

At the copacabana, They lost their love.

Thirty years later, the bar turned into a night club. Angel doesn’t know why they still owned the dress they wore that night, why they continued to put faded feathers in their hair or old rhinestones above their eyelids, or why they even still attended this stupid fucking bar. But they knew what they wanted; A drink.

And man, did they drink and drink and drink. Sometimes the new bartender would have to refuse to give them anymore because they would drink all night. The location somehow still managed to be a ridiculously popular spot, and they got tired of hearing about it, it was exhausting to relive that day 10 times over every day of their life moving forward.

Looking around, it was a good time. But not for Angel. They feel as if their youth is gone, and the love of their life was wrongfully taken from them. Over time, their mind was lost, and it’s turned them to the worst, letting alcohol do the forgetting for them. But only temporarily. They’ll be back tomorrow night.

At the Copacabana, Don’t fall in love.

————————————————————————-

Inspired by THIS wonder

@capitalisticveins @soup-scope @deviantaj @your-local-mom-whore @moon-jellyyy

Taglist

Masterlist🩷

[carnivorousyandeere]

Haven’t written enough of Thorn being a disaster gal lately… must remedy that. You get in the passenger seat of her old car. The floorboards are filled with trash, she plays music so loud you can feel it in your chest and it drowns out passing sirens and ambulances, she hits almost every curb she passes in parking lots, she tailgates the fuck out of people and barely breaks in time when they have to stop, etc. and she won’t let you drive. So if you wanna go anywhere with her u just gotta close your eyes and hold on for dear life

[starlightshadowsworld]

Let's do a recap shall we (28.10.2023)

Internet and phone networks have been cut off in Gaza. It's a near total blackout.

Meaning people in the region are struggling to contact loved ones.

And ambulances are struggling to find the people that need their help.

Fuel has been banned from getting into Gaza. And the fuel they had is running out.

Which will affect hospitals, ambulances. Premature babies in incubators and people utilising dialysis machines etc.

The ground invasion of Gaza has begun, with the Israeli military "stepping up" its air and ground forces in Gaza.

Daniel Hagari, an Israeli spokesman tweeted "For your immediate safety, we urge all residents of northern Gaza and Gaza City to temporarily relocate south.”

Because it's not like the last time the Israeli government told Palestinians to go south, they didn't bomb the safe routes and kill at least 40 people?

Also... Probably shouldn't be tweeting when almost no one can get the message.

Because of you guys bombing the area.

The infamous tunnels under Gaza have been used by the Palestinians to get in goods that Israel has not allowed them to have.

These goods have ranged from cheap gasloline to sheep, to women's underwear and plastic chairs for a school Israel had demolished.

For years they were called Gaza's lifeline

The UN... Continues to do fuck all.

I mean, they called an assembly which had a resolution lead by Jordan.

Which had an overwhelming majority agree for an “immediate, durable and sustainable humanitarian truce."

It demanded unhindered aid to the Gaza Strip. As well as the immediate release of all hostages.

Condemning attacks on both the Palestinian and Israeli civilians.

It passed with 120 votes.

45 abstained and 14 that were against it.

Though it's not legally binding but "carries political weight and reflects the degree the US and Israel are isolated internationally."

And apparently the White House are "pressuring Israel to reach a ceasefire."

Which, I call bullshit because the US has the power in this situation.

If Biden demanded a ceasefire or said if you don't stop this at once I'm gonna pull all our funding and military support.

Israel would fold so fast.

That's how much power the US government has over this shit. Israel has nothing without the western powers supporting them.

More than 100 Palestinians have been killed in the West Bank.

By Settlers, aka people who lived abroad and settled to live in occupied Palestine.

Gun laws have been relaxed for settlers and they are killing Palestinians with the full support of the IDF.

Their blaming it on terrorism but the West Bank is a place that has no Hamas presence in it.

So their own justificactions don't even add up.

Not that they ever did.

Also they are killing Palestinians for just existing, 4 settlers killed a Palestinian who was harvesting olives.

So keep an eye on the West Bank and Gaza.

Apologises if I've missed anything because I probably have, cos there's just a lot going on.

[homo-adaptionem]

Urbex Tips

Urban Exploration tips:

Learn basic first aid & bring a first aid kit.

Don't go in alone. Bring at least two other people.

Build up your strength before hand.

You need a tetanus shot every 10 years. If you haven't had one in the last 10 years, get one before you start.

If you're asthmatic, bring your inhaler.

Do research on the building / area beforehand. Figure out why it's abandoned. Learn the history. If it's condemned, find out why. Could be health reasons.

Enter at your own risk.

Tell a trusted person(s) where you're going. Give them the location of any places you're exploring. This is in case something happens, they know where you are/were going. Make sure they know who you're going with.

Hard hats. Being serious. Shit falls, even in "newer" buildings.

Wear gloves (thick leather work gloves, not that plastic faux leather shit, actual leather. not disposables, they won't do shit against glass and metal), goggles (to protect your eyes), a face mask (ideally construction-grade but the fabric types will work well enough), thick, long pants (like jeans), work or hiking boots, long sleeves, and something to cover your hair, like a beanie. If you've got long hair, put it in a ponytail and stuff it under the hat. Trust me. Also deodorant is a good idea.

Invest in a headlamp (easier than using a flashlight)

Avoid the "white 16 year old boy with friends" mentality. Don't do stupid shit because it's funny. If that floor seems unstable, avoid it. Don't smash shit. Don't jump down dark holes.

Don't steal shit. It's tempting, but I don't recommend it.

Avoid tagging / making graffiti, esp identifying graff. Again, tempting, but you can still get in trouble for it.

If someone catches you, BAIL. Don't get into a fight. Don't stick around for pigs to show up. Don't engage, just get out of there. Most of the time, urbex is trespassing.

If you find (which you probably won't) large sums of money, it might be best to report it. It could be stolen or counterfeit and get you in trouble if you use it. But ultimately it's your own choice.

If you find (which you probably won't) bloody clothing, blood-covered knives (or other weapons), or a gun, report it. Fuck pigs yada yada, but it could be connected to someone's death. Don't touch anything, don't take anything, just call the authorities and tell them where it is. I mention this because it could be connected to the assault or murder of sex workers, partners, and/or minorities.

If you find drugs (which you probably won't), report it. Don't use it. Could be laced. Not safe to use, bro, not worth it.

If you find a body(s), (which you probably won't), report it. Check for a pulse, but if the body is cold and/or stiff, call the authorities. If they're still warm, you can try CPR on them while you call for an ambulance. If they have a pulse, call an ambulance. If it looks like they're ODing, use some narcan if you've got it.

If you find Satantic imagery or whatever, 9 times out of 10 it's just teens fucking around. Like I promise you, they were probably left by some guys wanting to cause a stir or trying to make their own ARG or something.

The building isn't haunted, sorry to say. There are rational explanations for every "supernatural" thing you'll encounter. Sometimes they're the aforementioned guys. If you're superstitious, scared of the dark, easily frightened, or suffer from psychosis, you're probably gonna have a bad time.

You may encounter looters, homeless folks, addicts, and/or mentally ill/disabled folks. Try to avoid confrontation. Let them be. If they're alive and unharmed, leave them alone. If they're injured or ODing, attempt first aid (narcan, tourniquets, compresses, etc.) and call an ambulance. No pigs, just medical help.

Watch out for animals. Don't pet them. Don't hurt them. Leave them alone. Also watch out for snakes, esp in buildings with a lot of concrete or gravel.

Don't wear iconic or identifying clothing. Don't worry about looking nice. Don't wear shit you like because it WILL get torn, stained, and trashed.

Just… never assume you're alone.

Feel free to reblog with other tips.