#low charges air ambulance

[yandere-pleasure]

⌦ .｡.:*♡ Yandere Izuku Midoriya x Reader

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ​🇨​​🇷​​🇮​​🇲​​🇮​​🇳​​🇦​​🇱​ - ​🇧​​🇷​​🇮​​🇹​​🇳​​🇪​​🇾​ ​🇸​​🇵​​🇪​​🇦​​🇷​​🇸​

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

↺ ᴿᴱᴾᴱᴬᵀ ‖ ᴾᴬᵁˢᴱ ≫ ᴺᴱˣᵀ ˢᴼᴺᴳ

ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

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ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɪᴢᴜᴋᴜ ᴍɪᴅᴏʀɪʏᴀ

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ: ɪᴢᴜᴋᴜ ᴍɪᴅᴏʀɪʏᴀ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜ.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Izuku Midoriya otherwise known as the hero 'Deku' has a genuine secret of being in love with a villain. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ The two of you met by blood. Having been called on a report of crime. He steered himself to the site, he was seconds late, inhale after exhale. You were standing above a lifeless body, while crimson began to drown the pavement. "Are you a victim or a villain?" Midoriya asked almost hesitant to hear the response. "Why can't I be a hero?"  You asked in a low voice, Midoriya couldn't quite put his finger on it, it sounded just like him, in his voice, and in his font. You sounded like you were mocking the term hero but just as equally you sounded saddened by the idea that you weren't hero a sort of pity statement. The situation felt dangerous and by the lack of movement in the citizens lifeless body he knew it was too late, that idea made his hand clench in his glove.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ "You can be a hero but heroes don't kill"  he stated frankly eyes lowering in either pity or empathy he couldn't even really tell. You shook your head this smile on your face. "Then I can't be a hero" you mumbled low shaking your head, with that pitiful smile. "I'm sorry"  you mumbled shrinking into yourself, turning your back against him, you slowly walked away. Midoriya didn't know why but he let you. He let you run away. The ambulance came, carrying out the body, they were saved, the autopsy reported that she intentionally avoided lethal arteries. His question was 'why didn't you kill the citizen? Why only injure?'

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He hadn't heard about you for months, he searched for information of cases you could've possibly been involved in. Nothing, you were the starting of an end, and just as equally as a dead end. The citizen you killed turned out to be involved in a number of criminal cases, that were poisoned, whether it be witnesses never coming forward, the charges being dropped. A guilty citizen allowed to walk free because the justice system did them wrong. Midoriya empathized. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ It took one night, you approached him, while he was on night watch. "Hero Deku can I ask you a question?" your voice seemingly appearing out of nowhere, you seemed full of melancholy, and almost sheer anguish, as if it pained you to be near him. Rhetorically he thought how ironic it was that the invitation to question was a question in of itself, holding back his internal joke. He glanced to your direction. Nodding his head and you read his motions despite the canvas of he night. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ "Did you ever want to become a villain?" you asked your head low, letting out a sigh at the end of your question. Midoriya stood up straighter. "I don't think want is the right term, I just knew that I always wanted to be a hero no matter if I really could" Midoriya struggled to piece his thoughts together to express himself. "Did you ever want to become a hero?" He responded, the air hung heavy, the wind stayed quiet. "I don't think anyones first thought is to become a villain" you responded, you almost sounded pained to say it. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ "Why can't you be a hero?" Midoriya asked, the idea felt so simple in his head, all he ever had was the desire to be a hero with that ideology it almost made him negligent sometimes. If you wanted to be a hero, why couldn't you be one, the idea baffled him. "I'm just not a hero" you state, rubbing your shoulders along your arms. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ "Then why do you talk to me?" Midoriya asked at a loss for words, and will. "Although I know you don't understand me, I feel like at the same time, you can save me, I think I just want to be saved"  you smiled and you almost seemed embarrassed. "I hope I can, I mean I'll try my best" he stated, rambling with an awkward smile. "Have you harmed since?" Midoriya questioned as a hero it was an obvious and or expected question you shook your head. "I thought I was being a hero" you blurted aloud.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ "What does it mean to you to be a hero?" You asked curious and bug eyed Midoriya paused, placing a hand to his chin, taking a moment to mumble to himself in thought. There were plenty of answers to this, but not the right one for him. Midoriya thought back to his younger days of idolizing All Might, although he still does idolize him, what he idolized him to be, it clicked. "I think its giving hope, I think anyone can be a hero, if they give someone hope" Midoriya finished his sentence taking a glance at you for inspection, you were quiet. "Do you think I can make someone hope?" You asked almost pitiful, Midoriya scrunched his face. "I hope for you to be a hero, I hope I can be your hero, you're my hero you give me hope for you!" Midoriya stated almost announcing. You smiled at him, nodding your head. "I hope I can be a hero just like you, Deku" you beamed. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Days, and weeks passed. Midoriya thought back to you and your conversations, wondering how you faired. Supposedly the victim, had turned himself in for his crimes, although that most likely wasn't your intention, it worked. They also hadn't pressed any charges against you, which did make Midoriya relax. Another month passed, and he saw you at a park during his shift. Midoriya jumped beside you and you jumped slightly startled. You looked at him with a delighted smile. "How are you hero Deku?" You mused with a hum, he blushed, flustered. "I'm good..." Midoriya muttered off, at a loss. "What is your name?" Midoriya spoke with a pause, feeling somewhat dejected. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ "(Y/n)" you stated, with a smile. "Any ideas on a hero name?" Midoriya asked with a delighted smile, "well, I have to work towards the effort to be a hero, but I think I'm going to try to enlist into an hero academy" you smiled happily, making idle conversation. "Is U.A high school on your list?" Midoriya asked with a curious glass, you nodded your head enthusiastically, having reclaimed yourself into a 'Deku Fan', U.A High School was certainly on your agenda. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ "I want to be just like you, a good step towards that is attending the same school as you" you chirped. "Although I'm aware it is no easy effort" you state still humming happily on the casual park bench, beside Midoriya. Midoriya beamed, "I'll be sure to help you in anyway I can, lets trade contact information, so we stop meeting by chance" Midoriya stated with a shy smile. You nod your head, feeling somewhat embarrassed you reach out your phone while the two of y'all made idle chatter. 

"ʟᴇᴛꜱ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ? ᴛᴇᴀ? ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ"

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[randomuser1243756-blog]

Heart attack part 2~

As I lay in the back of the ambulance I feel my already slow heart fall to a stop, the heart rate monitor flatlining and letting out the dreaded continuous "beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep". The paramedics don't waste a second in removing my bra, my breasts falling to either side as my heart lies still between them.

As soon as the bra was thrown to the side a young paramedic put his hand on my chest, trying to find a pulse and rubbing my sternum, my breasts jiggling with every movement.

Getting no response the paramedic quickly put one hand atop the other and started compressing my heart "one, two, three..... come on Violet come back to us....twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five.....thirty"

After 3 rounds of compressions I heard the flatline stop, one of the other paramedics immediately shouting "We have Vfib! Charge the paddles!" it was silent for a moment as i feel the gel hit my skin "charging 150 joules....Clear!" I feel my body spasm a bit as the electricity shocks my heart "No change on the monitor, lets hit her again, charging 300 joules....Clear!" this time i feel my body lifting from the gurney before crashing back down, my breasts jiggling with the shock. I hear the paramedic let out a low growl "Still nothing, charging 360 joules....Clear!" this time there was a change in the monitor, however not one that anyone wanted, a loud "beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep" filling the ambulance as i flatline for the third time.

The young man let out a series of curses quickly beginning another round of rapid compressions "come on.." he growls out, i hear the other paramedic in the back quietly ask "should we call it?" but he ignores her, his full focus on bringing me back

Another 2 rounds of compressions go by until i hear "We have vfib again!" the young paramedic shouts, his hand slowly grazing over my bare breasts before charging the defibrillator "Shocking at 100 joules...clear!" still nothing.. "Again clear!" I felt my body spasm again but nothing changed "Charging paddles to 300 joules, clear!" my body jolted off the gurney before crashing back down, my breasts jiggling before falling motionless once again "Come on fight! Charging paddles to 360 joules..clear!" My body jolted as a weak heart rate suddenly appeared on the monitor, my lungs taking in small breaths of air "she's back.." he says, letting out a sigh of relief.

The relief however appeared short-lived as less than a minute later my body started seizing, my breasts and chest shaking wildly until my body fell motionless again, a flatline accompanying it once more.....

i hear the paramedic let out a series of curses "shes flatlining again, starting compressions" he says, giving me fast and deep compressions for the next 30 seconds before checking my pulse again, my heart still refusing to beat. "Come on! Come back to us!" he yells as he thumps my heart 3 times before starting vigorous chest compressions again. After a lot more cycles of cpr and thumps to the heart he manages to get my heart back into vfib.

"Charging paddles to 200 joules...clear!" my chest jolts as the electricity runs through me, my heart still fibrillating in my chest "shocking again, clear!" once again there's no change on the monitor. I hear the other paramedic tell him that I've been arresting for too long and that they should call it but he refuses, charging the paddles to 300 joules and shocking my heart again "clear!....no change, shocking again clear!" he rubs my sternum, begging my heart to beat before charging the paddles again "shocking at 300....clear!....again clear!" he glances at the monitor, my damaged heart still feebly trying to hold on "Charging 360 joules...clear!" my body jolts off the bed, my breasts jiggling greatly from the shock but before my body has a chance to fall motionless again he shocks my heart once more "Clear!"...everything is silent for a moment when suddenly i take in a small breath, then another, and another, the monitor showing a sinus rhythm "shes back" i hear the paramedic sigh in relief "hook her up to an oxygen mask and check her blood pressure, we cant let her crash again"

What are your thoughts? <3 Who'd wanna be the young paramedic in this scenario? ;)

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[crmsnmth]

I Don't Like Vodka

My room smells like bars did in the ninties stale cigarette smoke, and even staler bar there's empty bottles and cans that become my carpet I think I had hardwood before that

And I've been using vodka to drink after I brush my teeth in the morning it's the only liquor that tastes good with the mint

Crack another can of depressant as if I need something to make me more low but I do, because with the drink I can totally forget about my life

There's freedom in the darkness of blacking out

I'll wake up in the hospital and I'll run from the charges yet again I never asked for an ambulance And I'd honestly prefer it, if never called one

Still drunk in the morning It's the most effective way at beating the hangover at least that's what I tell myself as I pour myself shots at 9:30 in the morning

All I'm doing is trying to delay the hangover from hell

I'll repeat this process becoming a nuisance for so long but everybody seems to love an asshole And everybody loves to watch a train track

And I am a car just sitting on the tracks I don't intend on moving anymore And I let the smoke clear out of my lungs breathing non-toxic air for the first time in months

My home is in the last calls of dirty dive bars

[thewhitehairedwitchgirl]

WIP: The Fool and Her S-Rank Hunters

Guess who actually started writing this idea? TW for brief discussion of attempted suicide and ableism.

“What was that?!”

“I think someone jumped!”

“From the roof?!”

“Call an ambulance! She’s bleeding like hell!”

I couldn’t move. Red coloured the world, a hazy film of scarlet that made the sky look murky, like thick pond scum skimming across stagnant water. I blinked, and something wet dripped into the corner of my eye. It pooled at the edges of my vision, filling up the tear duct before slipping down the corner of my face to splash on the ground. Blood.

High above, the stone railing of the school roof jutted out against the stained clouds. Below it, several dozen faces peered down through the lower balconies, too distant for me to see the expressions twisting their round, childish faces. What were they all screaming about anyway? I was the one in the process of losing all my blood to the school’s cheap paving stones. It hurt, but I wasn’t yelling.

I’m in shock. I couldn’t yell even if I wanted to.

A shrieking horn tore through the noise, overpowering the cacophony of voices for only a second. The lighting shifted as new shadows fell upon me. Two people, a heavyset man and a woman, appeared in my periphery. They were both wearing bright blue uniforms, belted, and pinned with state badges that proclaimed them to be paramedics. As if the blaring siren wasn’t enough of a tell.

Their words passed over me like water, a series of jargon and code words mixing into a soupy mess that left me feeling heavy and sick. Large hands hefted me onto the stretcher with practiced efficiency, and as they rolled me towards the back of the ambulance, the blood dried enough for me to hear the words behind me.

“What a pity, but I get it. If I was an F-Rank I’d probably try to end it all too. Maybe now she’ll get over herself and keep her head down like she’s supposed to.”

The sound of my phone alarm echoed against the somber grey walls of my bedroom. The high-pitched whines blared once before I quickly rolled over and slammed my hand over the cartoon clock bouncing on the screen, cutting it off in a second and plunging the cramped space back into silence. Inhaling deeply, I bit my bottom lip hard and waited, praying fervently that none of my neighbours had heard the miniscule amount of noise. The apartment the landlord had leased to me put actual shoeboxes to shame, and was barely worth the rent he charged, but it was the only thing a teenage F-Rank could afford on my own and I was barely keeping up with the bills.

Additionally, I knew my neighbours didn’t like me. The lady to my left had two un-awakened kids, and the man on the right was the sort of crochety old codger who would probably yell at ‘those darn kids’ on his lawn if he had one. If any of them complained about me to the manager I would get evicted in a heartbeat.

The edge of the faded pink blanket caught against my worn fingernails as I stretched my arms high above my head. I opened my eyes fully, blinking quickly to let my pupils adjust to the light from the single light bulb hung from the middle of the ceiling. The jaundiced hue reflected off the peeling painted corners and exposed wood, casting the studio in shades of degraded sepia. There were no curtains, and the glass did little to insulate the room against the incoming winter air, especially this early in the morning.

The city glimmered on the other side, full of towering buildings that stuck out from the ground like mirror obelisks against the pearlescent-pink sky, illuminated by rainbow lights from the few buildings that hadn’t transitioned from nightlife to the dawn. A few cars glided over the roads, the low hum of their engines providing a steady backdrop to the repetitive warble of the birds that fluttered and nested in the branches of the golden hedge maples that lined the streets.

After a few more seconds of holding my breath – and hearing absolutely nothing in return – I finally gave myself a minute to exhale with relief and breathe in the cool air. I guess it’s my lucky day, and neither Mrs. Johnson nor Old Henderson are ready to give me shit this morning. Grateful for the reprieve, I sat up in preparation for the day.

First came stretches. The morning yoga exercises that my mother had drilled into my head took 15 minutes to complete, though I added an extra 3 minutes of deep breathing for a confidence boost. I was going to need it after all.

Next, a bath. With a light coating of sweat cooling on my brow, I picked up my bath towel and headed for the bathroom. The carpet beneath my feet was devoid of dust and dirt, courtesy of the tiny vacuum robot buzzing away in the corner. It was arguably the most expensive thing that I owned, though I hadn’t bought it per se. It had been a lucky find at one of the charity shops. When technology started utilizing mana crystals instead of batteries – courtesy of Dr. Vynland – a lot of companies had opted to abandon plain old purely electrical appliances in favour of magitech. Which meant new products, which meant upgrades, which meant a huge surplus of old tech flooding the secondhand shops as people tossed out their tried-and-true items in favour of a coffeemaker that could float iced drinks to you from across the room.

I bent down to tap my finger on the top of the little robot, stroking the vents as if it was a cat. The motor purred like one.

Poor thing, I thought. Discarded in a snap once something better came along. Doomed to crack and rot at the bottom of a bargain bin.

“Good job.” The words came out clumsy and gruff, my throat as unused to expelling sound as my tongue was to shaping the letters. Electric blue LEDs flashed away on the integrated touchpad, indicating that it was finished with its cleaning sub-routine and was now waiting for future orders or for an unwary speck of dust. I spared a few more seconds to pat it gently, brushing my fingers one more time against the snow-white chassis, before stepping into the shower stall.

The click of the electric kettle let me know that the water had finished boiling, and I carefully poured the steaming water into the bucket I used for her baths. After cooling it down to a more manageable temperature, I added a few drops of scented bath oil. The sultry scent of ylang-ylang and bergamot quickly filled the small space, infusing the air with a tropical scent. The magazines claimed that these scents boosted feminine energy and were once historically considered aphrodisiacs. Although I didn’t believe one iota of that, the drooping yellow flowers had been found to increase positive self-perception and reduce anxiety. Plus, they smelled good. Therefore, I made sure to wash every inch of myself thoroughly, even tacking on an extra 5 minutes to my strict morning schedule to massage the pads of her fingers deep into my scalp.

Once I was finished, I dried myself and stepped out of the bathroom, shivering from the sudden drop in temperature. My outfit hung on the wardrobe door, freshly washed and ironed for the practical exam. The written portion had been a week ago, and back then I could get away with showing up in her high school uniform. However, the practical portion was a whole different beast. Horizon Academy was the best Hunter school in the country for a reason, and part of the reason was the extremely strict requirements for prospective students. Last year there was the elemental obstacle course, the year before someone had been hospitalized after being launched 50ft off a cliff, and there’d even been a lot of criticism after the Great Monster Maze Debacle of 20XX.

What idiot in the management thought it’d be a good idea to sic a nest of Quartz-Winged Wyverns on a bunch of untrained teenagers? Those were A-Rank beasts! The only reason no one had died was because the professors had stepped in to clear the vault before anyone had been eaten. Whoever signed off on that, I hoped they’d been fired and blacklisted from academic life.

Nevertheless, past information showed that I needed to be ready for anything, and part of that meant being dressed right. The exam hall was an enclosed, silent space. This time, there would be far more eyes watching me.

Once she was fully dressed, I patted the front of my jeans free of imaginary dust, and then studied myself in the full-length mirror, turning left and right to make sure my attire was in line with the regulations laid out in the Conditional Acceptance letter.

A young woman stared back from within the glass. My chin-length black hair was too short to be tied back, so I kept the front pinned out of my face with plain white clips. The longer strands were tucked behind my ears, revealing practical silver studs. Blue-grey eyes scanned the picture that I made, certifying that everything was perfectly in place. 

Curls neat? Check.

Outfit clean? Check.

Make-up bag all packed? That was very important. I swiped a tube of strawberry-pink gloss over my mouth, smacked my lips together, and then tossed it back into the pouch. Check.

The apartment was as silent as a tomb, although that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. It would have been more surprising if someone else had been home with me at all. Moreover, of the few people who knew where she lived, there was no one I wanted walking around my personal space. My aunt and uncle especially could go to hell for all I cared.

In the kitchen – which was really a single corner counter with a sink and an electric stove with two working hobs – pulled open the cabinet door and selected two of the breakfast bars that I kept there. The upside of this brand was that they were cheap, filling, and stayed fresh for ages.

The thick taste of artificial lemon and strawberry burst on my tongue and glued itself to the back of my teeth, grainy and intensely sickly. Yuck. The downside was that they tasted fucking awful. Like tripping face-first into a vat of industrial floor soap.

Am I killing myself by eating this? I wondered, not for the first time, before taking several more bites with a shrug. At least I’ll die with a full stomach.

Stashing one of the bars in my bag for later, I chewed robotically while I checked my phone. My thumb hit the passcode and then navigated over to the news app. Headlines flew by as my eyes scanned the screen that was more crack than glass for important information. Almost every popular news report was about the same thing: the Horizon entrance exam.

Swiping to social media revealed the same thing, along with a thousand squealing emojis and kaomojis.

“OMG, how am I just discovering Adrian Vale??? Ya’ll were just gonna let me die without knowing how hot he was 🔥🔥🔥 #NewFavorite”

“I'm calling it now, his debut is gonna be HUGE! 🌟 Anyone else feeling the hype?”

“Say hello to my newest obsession! Can't wait to see what he does next! ✨ #Obsessed #DoesHeNeedAGF because I am available”

“Uhhhhhh respectfully? Ain’t no way the best S-Rank magician would ever settle for a bunch of nobodies like us. We are not worthy lmao #ButSeriouslyHMU my digits are 553-”

So, nothing important. Seems no one has any idea about today’s task. Sighing, I closed my phone and looked up at the clock.The time was now 7:00 a.m. The bus would arrive in less than 30 minutes, and it was a 10-minute walk to the stop. I took another bite of my breakfast and chewed determinedly.

Today was the first day of the rest of my time at Horizon Academy. Today was the day I, an F-Rank bottom-feeder, got past those gilded gates. I didn’t care what it took, who I had to tear down and take advantage of to pass whatever stupid trial those thick-faced snobs had set up. I was going to get accepted there, and I was going to become a Hunter no matter what.

Just as I was tying the laces of her boots, a sudden, persistent banging echoed through my apartment. My heart sank and I groaned internally. So, I hadn’t escaped my neighbour’s wrath. She’d just been biding her time, or maybe she couldn’t properly start her own day without making mine miserable. Here it comes, I grimaced and opened the door to find Mrs. Johnson on the other side. She was clad in a thick blue bathrobe and scowling on the welcome mat. Pink rollers kept thinning auburn hair out of a scowling face, highlighting the heavy furrows creasing her brow.

The expression on her face was wrinkled and cold, the snub nose scrunched up as though I was a particularly large cockroach that she couldn’t quite figure out how to squash. Bloodshot eyes glared down at me, and the muted stench of cheap wine assaulted my nostrils.

Ah. It was one of those days.

The old woman didn’t give me a moment to settle before she began her daily tirade. "Can't you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep!" Mrs. Johnson snapped; her disapproving gaze fixed on me.

At least try to pretend you can be civil, instead of the prejudiced old hag you are. I pressed my lips together and maintained my composure, knowing that this was another round of the usual morning harassment. It was too much to hope that Mrs. Johnson would let a single day go by without making it clear just how much she despised living near an F-Rank. Although science had disproved a lot of the superstitions surrounding those with low ranks, the older woman still treated me as though my power level was contagious.

My throat closed, and my tongue grew heavy like lead at the base of my jaw. I swiped to the app on my phone that I used to talk, and quickly tapped out a few sentences.

"Good morning, Mrs. Johnson. I'm sorry if I woke you," the robotic voice read out the useless attempt to diffuse the tension as civilly as I could.

She sneered at the phone, and I could almost see the slur inching through the gaps in her teeth. If the ranking system hadn’t become the dominant method of discrimination, I had no doubt she would be calling me both definitions of ‘dumb’. Luckily, she was one of those women who fancied herself a real Western belle. Oh, she’d raise up a storm, but never in public, and she wouldn’t be caught doing something as gauche as harassing another person over their speech issues.

Even though I could tell she really wanted to.

"Woke me? You woke up both my children! You're always making noise! It's unbearable!" Mrs. Johnson continued her diatribe, gesturing harshly toward my noiseless apartment as if it were the inside of an uptown nightclub.

I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully as I typed them out. "I assure you; I'm just getting ready for the day. If there was any noise, it was unintentional, and I apologize for it."

Mrs. Johnson scoffed and folded her arms, clearly unconvinced. "Unintentional, my foot! You people are all the same, causing trouble for the rest of us! I have kids you know, and I don’t need them picking up bad habits from you people!"

Unlike your alcoholism, right? I bit back the nasty retort that rose to my own lips. "I understand, Mrs. Johnson. I'll try to be quieter.”

Mrs. Johnson scoffed, dismissing my attempt at reason. She was the sort of older woman who loved to hear herself speak and could never let an argument go unless she could browbeat her opponent into miserable, furious submission. I got the feeling that part of the reason she tolerated my text-to-speech app is so she could have a verbal sparring partner. Calm acquiescence wasn’t going to cut it.

"Nonsense!” She barked. “It's you, always you. I can't wait for the day you move out of here!"

I hummed and glanced down at the phone in my hand. 7:10 am. I don’t have time for this.

"Well, Mrs. Johnson, I'm not the one yelling and waking up the entire floor right now,” I turned up the app volume, allowing the increased decibels of the artificial voice to interrupt her lecture. I had downloaded a volume app for moments such as this, and the 200% increase in decibels briefly halted her in her verbal tracks. “Maybe we both need to be more mindful of those around us?"

Mrs. Johnson, taken aback by the sudden assertiveness, stammered in response. "I-I have a right to complain. You're just a useless F-Rank. People like you bring bad luck!"

Ha. If only you knew. Choosing not to engage in a futile argument, I just rolled my eyes and shut the door of my apartment. A step forward forced the older woman to step all the way back and off of the bristles of the welcome mat.

"If you can find a way to file and prove ‘bad luck’ on a complaint report, I’ll be sure to compensate you for any and all damages," I retorted. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going out.”

Turning on my heel, I marched over to the stairs. Once I reached the first floor, I took a moment to collect myself. Today was too important to be derailed by a cantankerous neighbour. I couldn’t let myself be rattled when there was so much to do. I had to keep a cool head, or I’d fail before I even hit the starting point.

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