#noticed there's no crosswalks at any intersections

[arandomnomad]

It's a bit jarring to see how un-walkable a city can be when you are forced to walk.

[beadyeyes]

Drivers shall lose their licenses on a 6 month suspension system for the civilian crime of:

Running a red light

Speeding through a yellow light

Speeding up in an intersection

Slowing down in an intersection

Pulling into the crosswalk on a red light

Pulling into the crosswalk to turn on a red light

Slow turns that cause a sudden stop for following vehicles

Slow turns through an intersection over more than 3 lanes

Failing to turn in an intersection during the alotted time frame

Failing to stop for a civilian legally crossing the street during their alotted time

Starting your turn while a civilian is in the process of legally crossing the street

Failing to notice a walking civilian during any part of your drive

Posing a threat to civilian safety regardless of driver intention

Merging over a bike lane

Failing to maintain 20 feet from a bicyclist during normal traffic conditions

Failing to maintain 10 feet from vehicle in front during congested traffic conditions

Tailgating during congested traffic conditions

Failing to merge or move out of the path of an emergency vehicle

Failing to let other vehicles merge or move out of the path of an emergency vehicle

Driving in a bus / trolley / train / PT lane

Parking in a PT lane

Temporarily stopping in a PT lane outside of any reasonable emergency

Merging over a PT lane

Passing a slow moving PT vehicle

Speeding through a railroad crossing during the warning period

Failing to signal a vehicles lane merge

Failing to signal a turn

TBA

[humiliationstories124]

Shopping covered in cum

I guess to make up for my need for risky sex, I've been driving around my city naked and masturbating. A lot. It got to a point where more times than not when I got in my car in my work parking lot after work, I would strip naked and sit on my boxers, lube up my cock, and drive home that way.

Usually when I'm driving naked I'll take the long way home, through as many of the busiest and most pedestrian filled areas of town as possible. I love the thrill of being completely naked from head to toe, driving barefoot, stroking my hard cock as I drive in rush hour traffic with cars on either side of me. I take the major commercial thoroughfare through the city while it's still light out, cars and SUVs in lanes all around me, people on the sides of the street and crossing it.

Often I'm right there at a crosswalk with people crossing in front of me, downtown or somewhere, and they don't imagine to look over to notice that the guy in the car is totally naked and stroking a throbbing hard cock. But I am. For a while there, it was many days per week I would be in every one of the busiest areas of town totally naked.

I would often be in one of the really densest urban walkable neighborhoods in rush hour traffic with people all around, just outside all my windows, or with a major multi-use trail crossing in front of me, and at that moment I would cum so hard it would cover my neck and then pump all over my chest and stomach, sitting there totally naked in traffic. It's such a thrill to be completely naked in the most public places possible, and just because I'm in my little car, not even tinted windows, nobody notices. But I know it's extremely risky for me to drive through town totally naked like that, and cum all over myself at the busiest intersections.

One of those days a couple months ago I decided to stop on my way home from work, so I got naked in my car in the parking lot where I work, and stroked myself all the way over to a big glory hole booth place. I pulled into the parking lot totally naked, hoping there wouldn't be any cops there. The parking lot was packed and I got lucky to have a car pulling out of a spot just as I pulled in. I slipped on little workout shorts and a tight nylon workout shirt I had in a duffle in the back seat of my car, and put on running shoes and went in.

All I brought in with me was my money, lube, and cell phone. I went in and the halls were crowded with horny men cruising for blowjobs or more. I did a circuit through the place and didn't see many open booths, but there were 20 or 30 men cruising the hallways of the place. I was curious so I walked up the stairs in the back to see if anything was happening. But all that was up there were three bedrooms that people can use to do just about anything. But nobody was up there so I went back down and went to one of the very first booths you encounter when you walk in the place.

The door didn't even have a latch to lock it, but I didn't care. I pulled out my lube and took off my shorts, but I didn't take off my shirt because I knew I wasn't going to stay in this booth. I put on some porn and then noticed a really huge black cock sticking through the glory hole. It was like a porn star cock, huge black and perfect. I reached over and stroked it while I stroked myself. He seemed to like it because he got even harder. I put some of my lube on it from my cock and stroked him.

While I was doing this the door to my booth opened and a big white guy was standing there and liked was he saw. He encouraged me to suck the black cock, but I was being hesitant at that time, but was loving stroking it. The black guy must have been curious about who was in the booth next door because he pulled out and looked through, and at that moment I asked him if he would cum all over my face. He agreed, and asked if I would suck him. I agreed.

I got on my knees on the floor facing the hole with the big black cock, stroking him the whole time, lifted up his hard cock while I stroked it and I licked the underside of his cock, all over, using my tongue, until I took the head in my mouth, the head wasn't huge but it was the smallest part of his cock. It just seemed to get fatter and fatter as it went, jet black, flawless. I stroked and gave him the best blowjob I ever had up to that point. There was something about sucking off a huge black cock through a glory hole, totally naked, while a stranger stands in the open doorway jacking off watching.

I was so focused on that hot black cock in my mouth that I wasn't even that aware of what the other guy was doing, other than knowing he was masturbating and making comments about how hot it looked. I asked him to cum on my face too, and he agreed. He came over while I was sucking the black cock, and just had me lean back at one upstroke and hold still while he blasted my face in cum all over my forehead and cheeks. None got in my eyes, which was great.

After he was done cumming I put on a show sucking off the black guy until he groaned that he was going to cum, and I pulled off and jacked him off all over my face. He came a lot too, like 5 or 6 or more good spurts of cum on my face. Because of how I was positioned underneath his cock sticking through the glory hole, some of his cum splattered on my tight nylon workout shirt. Since I already had my shirt on, I slipped on my shorts and walked through the hallways, cum from two guys all over my face.

I went into a booth that was open and put money in the slot. I hit the button until a hot black on blonde gangbang was on, and I pulled the lube back out of my pocket and pulled off my shorts, and put them on the bench. I pull off my shirt and put it there too, and then took off my shoes. I sat down and lubed my cock and started to stroke, knowing the guy looking through the glory hole is motioning that he wants to suck my cock. But I'm more interested in sitting and enjoying this hard cock I've had for a half hour already, and I'm covered in cum from those two guys, especially from the huge black cock I just sucked off.

I was rock hard and lubed and stroking, naked and hard, and the door to my booth opened and a guy looked in and saw me naked and stroking and stared for a minute, but never came in, just stood there with the door open watching me. I said to him, will you cum on my face? He said he would love to, but he wouldn't be ready for a while. I started to think of him as Not Ready. He asked me what I really wanted, and I told him I wanted every man here to cum on my face. He thought that was hot. He said he would come back later when he was ready to cum, and left but never closed the door.

Men were lined up against the wall, and they could see into my booth as I stroked myself lubed and naked. Two of them came up at the same time and I said I wanted them both. They came into the booth with me and stood over me looking at me stroke myself while I watched a blonde chick get fucked by black guys. They both pulled out their cocks and stroked, and I encouraged them to enjoy each other. They did a little bit, while watching me. They agreed to cum on my face. They wanted me to help, and I couldn't just say no, so I got on my knees in the porn booth and took their cocks in my hands and stroked them both.

While I stroked them, I went back and forth sucking their cocks. I used my tongue at the same time I would use my lips to slide up and down their cocks, trying to create all kinds of sensations while I'm pumping their cocks with my lips and mouth. I don't really know how to deep throat unless I'm being forced, but I did my best, forcing myself to take them into my throat while I stroked the other. They weren't as big as the black cock I had just sucked.

It didn't really take that long before they were ready, and I got down lower so it would be impossible for them to miss my face, and stroked them both off so they came all over my face at the same time. Almost perfectly simultaneous, they both started blasting my face, one guy with long thick ropes of white cum all over me, and the other more liquidy white so it just rains down everywhere. I was stroking myself the whole time, but had to stop at that moment or else I would have cum. I held off, and savored all that cum totally covering my face, now from four guys in less than an hour, sitting on the grimy floor of a glory hole booth with two strangers standing over my naked cum covered face and body.

They thanked me profusely, and I thanked them for the cum and sat back up on the bench. I told them I didn't need a paper towel or anything because I like to leave it all over my face. They zipped up their pants and walked out of the booth, leaving the door open again.

The guy who said he wasn't ready to cum yet, Not Ready, walked into the door before I could even close it, and he brought another man with him. This guy was just some married guy who showed up to get a blowjob through a hole, since his wife probably never does it, and this other guy led him into my booth. He liked that I was in there naked and hard, with cum all over me. Not Ready had told him to come in here and cum on my face, and he seemed thrilled. They both took off some of their clothes, and were both stroking watching me. I suggested to Not Ready that he should suck off the other guy, and he agreed, and so did the other guy. Turned out he was really really good at it.

So I got to sit there and stroke myself watching this one stranger give another stranger a fabulous blowjob until he yells he going to cum, at which point I'm down on the floor below him, so that every single drop of the massive spurts of cum that shoot out of him hit my face, mostly my forehead and nose and mouth. It was awesome, he came a LOT!

I looked up at him through a cum soaked slutty glaze, naked on the floor, stroking myself, and thanked him. He said Oh my God, No, Thank YOU!! I wonder if that was the wildest sexual experience he ever had? It's possible. The other guy still joked that he wasn't quite ready, but he did let me suck him for a little bit, until he was raging hard and close, and then he said he would be back.

Again he left the door open, and the guy looking through the glory hole said he would cum on my face. So I got down under it, and he pushed his average sized white cock through. I was looking up at it, and in not very long at all he started cumming on me almost more than any of the other guys had. It was thrilling, as his cum ran down off my face and all over my body. Nobody took advantage of me while I was bent over naked getting my face covered in sperm like that to come through the door and do anything, but I looked out the open door and saw that there were a few guys out there watching me.

I had a few minutes of just sitting down on the bench and calmly masturbating myself to make sure I didn't explode at that time. Then Not Ready walks into my booth with another guy again, this time a big black guy, and he looks at me and says "surprise" while the black guy locks the door and pretty much at the same time another big black cock came through the glory hole. I suddenly saw what this was, and I was sure that Not Ready had set it up. I was so thankful for him at that moment.

This time, the big black guy totally stripped down naked, as naked as me. I was thinking damn, he's into it. And he was pretty fucking big too. Probably 9 or 10 inches. I'll say black guys are above average, that's for sure, on average. I reached out and took both black cocks into my hands, and stroked them at the same time. It made me feel so slutty to be naked and covered in cum on a glory hole booth floor while I stroke off two huge black cocks mounted on guys I don't know at all, arranged by a fourth guy who's now taking over one of the guys so he can suck him. Seeing this, I decide I might as well suck the guy in the glory hole. But first I motion for him to come down to the hole to listen, and I asked him if he would cum on my face, and he agreed. So I gave him a hot blowjob through the gloryhole, that was sometimes I hand job when I was sucking off the other black cock, or a blowjob but I was stroking the other guy.

I felt like the other white guy, Not Ready, had orchestrated it perfectly, because the guy I was sucking was the first to cum, and he warned me so I could get it all over my face, and he spurted and sprayed all over me, while the other black guy came over and started poking my face with his cock. So I turned to him, and took his cock in my mouth and pumped it with my lips, fucking my face up and down his shaft, swirling my tongue, wanting him to really explode. And he did, even quite a bit up into my hair. They were all extremely grateful, totally thanking me for such a hot experience. It was awesome. And I was the one with cum from 7 guys all over me.

The white guy, Mr. Ready now, was totally hard now, stroking, having watched and facilitated and fluffed, and he was ready to add his hot sperm all over my face. I got down low again, and he stood over me pointing his cock down at me, and started blasting over and over and over. Damn, when he was ready he was ready. It was like the finishing touch, his cum was hot and white and just kept cumming out of his cock. I looked up at him and thanked him.

I asked him if he would do me a big favor. Of course he agreed. I pulled out my iphone and asked if he would take some pictures of me like this. I posed and had him take pictures of my entire naked body covered in cum, and closeups of my face, to really get the detail of how many layers of cum spurts there are covering my face. He got nearly a dozen really good shots, and handed my phone back to me. When he left the booth I put my clothes on and decided that I should be on my way. I walked out of that place, dripping cum from every inch of me, my face dripping,

I got in my car and took a few selfies, and looked at the pictures that had been taken of me. It was insane to actually see myself like that, totally naked and rock hard, with cum covering every inch of my face and lots of my body, closeups of the cum in my hair and forehead, covering my eyes, my mouth and cheeks, the big strands of it going every which way across my face, cum all over my naked body.

I took off all my clothes again in the car, sat on my boxers again, and decided to drive through the rest of the heart of town. I drove through downtown, midtown, every pedestrian popular neighborhood, naked hard stroking and covered in cum from 8 total strangers. It took so much control to edge myself the whole time, rock hard and on the edge of cumming, but holding it back, keeping that feeling as I drove naked through town with cars and people and even cops on foot right outside my car windows. I just drove along acting very nonchalant even though I was naked.

Nobody noticed, everywhere I went, nobody looked into my car to see me naked and masturbating. If they had, I was driving through some of the densest traffic areas where there are all the restaurants, shops, bars, parks, etc. It would be impossible to get away, but it just made me harder. I pulled into the parking lot of a little mall that has a popular Whole Foods. I drove through the parking lot and pulled up right in front of the Whole Foods and got lucky and the spot right in front of the door was open. I was naked and had to make a decision.

I pulled into that spot, right across from the front door, and the sidewalk café full of people, with people everywhere and just being there and seeing some hot yoga chicks coming out of the store and walking right in front of my car, I started to cum all over myself to an insane degree! I hit my own face with the first two blasts, then under my chin with the third, which ended up dripping down my body, then probably 5 or 6 more huge spurt of cum that I had been building up over the hours that I sucked off all those guys, all over my own chest and stomach, all over me. I was giggling because I had just cum on my own face with hot girls walking past my car, in front of the Whole Foods, and then drenched the rest of myself.

I suddenly came to my senses and realized that I shouldn't be sitting in my car naked covered in cum from 8 guys, and now freshly from myself, right there across maybe 15 feet from their main door and cafe. So I quickly slipped on my shorts and pulled the nylon workout shirt (that already had cum stains from the first black guy on it) over my head. I then felt safe because at least I was wearing shorts and top. I couldn't believe I just pulled into this spot totally naked and almost immediately started cumming all over myself. I then slipped on my running shoes, no socks, and psyched myself up to get some food. I knew I was just putting my tight workout outfit over a layer of my own cum on my body, and it could potentially start to show.

I looked at myself in the lighted mirror on my sun visor, and I looked kind of glazed, with some more noticeable spurts going all over and up into my hair. But most of the cum on my face had melted into more of a glaze than noticeable spurts like they were in the pictures. I was hoping it would be less obvious to people that I was covered in cum, like I came straight from a bukkake, which I had.

I grabbed my little wallet and keys and got out of the car in my little shorts and the cum stained shirt, with a thick layer of my own hot cum dripping down all over my chest and stomach, starting to seep through the top. My cock was refusing to go down, even after cumming that hard, but it was doing it slowly. I was hoping that wouldn't be a problem. I walked into the store, grabbed a cart, and went shopping. I did a full scale grocery shopping, in all the departments, at least the stuff I can afford to buy at Whole Foods. I was enjoying walking around the most popular Whole Foods in town with cum from 9 different men dripping on me. I don't know if anybody really realized, nobody let on. The thing I was most worried about was someone with a good sense of smell. Because I'm sure I smelled like sperm.

By that time the cum was more evenly glazed and hardening than it was in the photos. But my own cum was definitely running down my body and dripping all over in ways that both scared and thrilled me. To be in the Whole Foods where I shop, a lot, but this time soaked in cum, was fun.

I shopped in produce, in ovo lacto, vitamins, beer, meats, cheeses, everywhere. I even got a big meal at the hot bars and salad bars. That was the main reason I went, was to get something healthy to eat, even if I did have to come shopping at the Whole Foods that everybody I know would use, soaked in 9 big hot multi-shot loads of cum. Nobody said a thing. After checking out I brought my groceries with me outside to the sidewalk café, where I sat down and ate the hot bar food I got.

I just went home afterward, put away the groceries, downloaded the photos onto my computer so I could view them large scale. I masturbated myself to orgasm the very first time I sat at my computer and looked at them. It was such a thrill. Then I threw those clothes in the dirty hamper and got in the shower. I scrubbed myself clean and got dressed for when my girlfriend would get home. I was glad when we kissed as she got home that she said I smelled good. If she couldn't smell that I had been cum covered, everything was fine.

[momo-de-avis]

I'm gonna be clear and perhaps a little controversial here but tuktuks are a fucking cancer. I am sick of them, I am sick of tuktuk drivers thinking they're multilingual uber drivers and not underpaid scam artists, and I am sick of their attitude

1.

This is an intersection I have to cross every day on a walking tour. The green awning is a shop where we stop for a tasting. Exactly where the pin is the street we arrive from. That is an intersection: cars go up from there, but also, coming from around the building of the green awning, not only cars but buses drive from down there.

Across the street is a viewpoint which happens to be one of THE most popular viewpoints in lisbon. As you can see in this updated google street view, there is construction work happening right there (pink circle). This is a two-way street too, and not only that, if you look at the ground you can see rails on the road, meaning that trams drive up here. A LOT of trams.

The orange cross is a spot where every day, every single fucking day, a tuktuk is parked. It happens on a regular notice that the tuktuk driver thinks they have room. They do not. You see, cars can swerve it and keep driving, but trams cannot. Trams stay on the fucking rails. So it's a common occurrence for more than one, more than two, and as I have witnessed, more than three trams and an endless queue of cars have to be stopped there, clogging an already awkwardly narrow street, waiting for the tuktuk driver, who is nowhere to be found, to come get their stupid tuktuk.

2.

Right before you arrive at the street above, this is the intersection you have to go through, which I also mentioned.

I am going to try and explain this as best I can.

This is a limited area, meaning that only public transportation, residents and deliveries can enter. The green circle indicates a pin, or bollard, that goes down when a magnetic reader, not visible in the image, reads the card drivers have on their windshields. Tuktuks don't have these (yet for some fucking reason, they're allowed in). In this case, there should be something like a doorbell which you ring and it makes the bollard go down.

Consider that, from this street, which is a one way street, buses come down in the direction of the white building you see in front of you, and then can only turn right.

The red arrow indicates the direction from which cars come from. They cannot cross past the bollard (the green circle). They also come from the street shown in point 1.

This picture was taken during winter, because where you have the car in the pink circle is where tuktuks park every single day. Three of them.

So imagine this

This is what the street looks like on a daily basis. You can even see a van coming down to the left, which has passed the bollard. Now imagine that, on top of this, a bus is coming from the opposite direction, following the red arrow of the previous image.

And now add here a group of 11-14 people on foot, who try to stay within the sidewalk but literally have no room to walk because of THREE FUCKING TUKTUKS OCCUPYING THE ENTIRE SIDE WALK.

So there's me, trying to not let 13 people die, squeezed between a bus coming in one direction, a van coming from the opposite direction, and three tuktuk drivers who are on their phones watching this and doing absolutely nothing.

3.

Last week, I was crossing the road with a group of 13. I came to a crosswalk. Like anu fucking normal human being, when I saw a tuktuk coming in my direction, I stopped. I feel I don't have to justify myself because it's literally acting like any normal functioning human citizen, but of course I was not going to throw myself onto the road with 13 people behind me no matter how far away the tuktuk was.

So being a decent fucking human being, I stopped. The tuktuk stopped, and as I did yet another decent human being action of raising my hand in thank you, the stupid bitch behind the wheel shouts: "oh my GOD, seriously?? JUST CROSS"

Literally gave her a "are you okay? Do you think that's normal?" Type of look

Tuktuks are a fucking cancer and I swear most of its drivers are deranged. I'm getting this 👌close to start throwing hands at one of them, and it's gotten close to happening twice already

[thighsofdoom]

You have to imagine it. Lay down and close your eyes and dream of the world where there is no harm, no one is killed, there is no abuse, no sex trafficking, no terrorism. We still have problems and we resolve them like adults. No tantrums with nukes, but real legitimate compromise. Everybody wins. Your disabled neighbor has a city made ramp on their home. The sidewalks are smooth, areas that used to be covered in cars are pedestrian malls, there are benches and trash cans and many many free public restrooms. Vaccines are free. Education is free. Housing is free.

From big to small, you HAVE to imagine the better future. And everyone is there, your shitty republican neighbor is there and his neighbor is a trans woman and they do not like each other but the republican’s opinion no longer determines the rights and safety of the trans woman. Peace is still peace even if it’s begrudging. You cannot imagine a future where all the people you don’t like are dead, that’s fascism. Everyone is here and we’re going to figure out how to live together.

So what does it look like? Don’t worry about logistics yet, but what does it look like? Mine has monorails and trains instead of all these cars and highways, big electric buses, 15 min cities, sidewalks and ramps. There’s big swathes of land that we leave for wildlife, and there’s little interconnected bits to keep cities green and beautiful, old malls are turned into agricultural buildings, housing is free and abundant and diverse. Medical care is funded for rural areas. Do country borders even exist in the future I imagine? I don’t know yet, maybe not.

Someone will tell you that everything you say is a pipe dream. You’re an idealist, your ideas are stupid, there would be no way to implement any of it. And you can kindly tell that person that it’s okay that they can’t imagine a better future yet, but you are happy to help, to do it for them.

We made all this. We are the ancestors of people who created civilizations from nothing. We can make it better.

And you can implement changes now! Your big future, your tree you plant that you will not live to sit in the shade of, that will take many small incremental pushes to get to, that will take the work of multiple people, and people will try to stop you. Keep working on it, one small step at a time, but in the meantime, for some instant gratification, go microcosmically small.

For example: I live in a city, and regularly cross a busy street. The drivers in my city have a bad habit of not noticing pedestrians in a crosswalk in broad daylight. Two people have died within the past year at two of the intersections I use. I found out recently that I have a neighborhood representative, a person who talks to city departments on behalf of residents. I had no idea and I’ve lived here for almost a decade! So I emailed this person and explained my concerns as a pedestrian and offered solutions that I have seen implemented in other areas that I would like in my neighborhood. And guess what? I’m getting a lead pedestrian signal! In my city, you have to press a button to activate the walk signal, I don’t like this, but I’m working with it. A lead pedestrian signal means that when I press the button to cross, all the traffic lights stay red while I enter the crosswalk. I don’t know the timeline, but it is on a list of tasks to be done, and as far as local government work goes that is instant gratification to me. And so I look around my neighborhood and think of other things I can ask for, where else can I shine a light and say, “we can make this better.”

That is the sacred work of dark times. It feels really scary and unpredictable in the US right now. The climate crisis makes it feel like the world is ending. But it hasn’t ended yet despite how many people feel like it has. You can hold your despair in your hand and comfort it, say yes this is bad, you are right to be scared. And then wrap it in a little blanket and tuck it into bed. It will wake up again and again and you will lull it back to sleep. Because you will tell it your dreams, you will infuse it with hope. Imagine it, that world where no more bombs are dropped. You may not live to see it, but you are going to help make it happen.

[thekplawgroup]

Top Tips for Preventing Pedestrian Injuries

Pedestrian safety is a critical concern in bustling cities like Atlanta, Georgia, where high traffic volumes and busy intersections create potential hazards for those on foot. At KP Law Group, we are dedicated to ensuring the safety of pedestrians and advocating for their rights in the event of an accident. In this blog, we provide essential safety tips to help you stay safe while walking in Atlanta and what to do if you find yourself involved in a pedestrian accident.

1. Always Use Designated Crosswalks

Crosswalks are designed to give pedestrians the right of way and increase visibility. In Atlanta, it’s essential to cross streets only at marked crosswalks or intersections with traffic signals to reduce the risk of accidents.

2. Stay Alert and Avoid Distractions

Distracted walking is a growing problem. Avoid using your phone, headphones, or any other device that may take your attention away from your surroundings. Being alert can help you react quickly to potential dangers, such as speeding vehicles.

3. Wear Bright or Reflective Clothing

Especially during early mornings, evenings, or rainy weather in Atlanta, wearing bright or reflective clothing increases your visibility to drivers. Carrying a flashlight at night can also make you more noticeable.

4. Obey Traffic Signals and Signs

It may be tempting to jaywalk or cross against a signal when you're in a hurry, but obeying traffic rules is crucial for your safety. Wait for the walk signal and ensure all vehicles have stopped before crossing the road.

5. Watch for Turning Vehicles

Even when you have the right of way, be cautious of vehicles turning left or right at intersections. Make eye contact with drivers to ensure they see you before you proceed.

6. Stay on Sidewalks Whenever Possible

Atlanta’s sidewalks are designed for pedestrian safety. If there’s no sidewalk, walk on the far side of the road facing traffic, so you can see oncoming vehicles.

7. Be Mindful of High-Traffic Areas

Neighborhoods like Midtown Atlanta and Downtown see significant foot and vehicle traffic. Exercise extra caution in these areas, especially near schools, parks, and popular attractions.

What to Do If You’re Involved in a Pedestrian Accident

Despite taking precautions, accidents can happen. If you’re involved in a pedestrian accident in Atlanta, follow these steps:

Seek Medical Attention: Your health is the priority, even if injuries seem minor.

Report the Accident: Contact the local authorities to file an accident report.

Gather Evidence: Document the scene, including photos, witness statements, and driver information.

Contact KP Law Group: Our experienced personal injury attorneys can guide you through the legal process and help you seek compensation for medical bills, lost wages, and pain and suffering.

Let KP Law Group Protect Your Rights

At KP Law Group, we understand the challenges pedestrians face after an accident. If you or a loved one has been injured in a pedestrian accident in Atlanta, Georgia, our dedicated team is here to help. With years of experience and a proven track record, we fight for justice and fair compensation for our clients.

Contact KP Law Group today for a free consultation. Let us help you get back on your feet and secure the compensation you deserve.

Originally published at The Kp Law Group

[apollo-zero-one]

It depends because I am a pedestrian around my city and I can tell you with 100% certainty that there are some that do Nothing and the light will change when it wants to, and there are some where the light will genuinely never change unless you press the button. Like the cars will be stopped so cars going the same direction as you can go, but the crosswalk light won't come on because you didn't press the button so it thinks no one is there. There are also some crosswalks around here that don't have a button at all, and some (mostly on campus) where the button was disabled during COVID and now has a sign saying Do Not Touch The Button Just Watch The Light because they don't want ur germy hands on it lol

I usually press all available buttons except for those ones but I have experimentally waited at a few intersections to see if it takes longer for the light to change if you don't press it, that's how I learned some crosswalks never change. The ones that do change without the button, I didn't notice much difference in time, it could be a shorter interval but not enough to really worry about??? A lot of people just like the beep it makes. OH and there are some in my area where it doesn't make the interval any faster but pressing the button makes it say 'wait' repeatedly, then announce the name of the street when it's safe to cross, and read out the countdown. These lights will still silently change on their own if you don't press the button. I believe this is part of the relatively high number of things in my area designed to help the visually impaired get around (busses in certain areas around here will also audibly announce which number bus they are each time the front door opens)

[addi-the-unhinged]

Am I the only one that kind of finds it awkward to cross the street when there is a car at the crosswalk to the point that I will go out of my way to avoid crossing the street?

like earlier today when I was walking home and there was a line of a few cars waiting at the intersection, so instead of forcing them to wait for me I decided instead I would walk in the exact wrong direction, cut through the parking lot of a post office, then walk back so I could go behind the cars without any of them noticing me doubling back.

[francesderwent]

imissthembutitwasntadisaster said: Wait you got hit by a truck? Did I miss the Cate Lore? Babes when did this happen please elaborate

I searched the annals of my blog but I can’t find a time I told the whole story?? doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, but ah well.

it was December, in the year 2017. I had just finished my first semester of PhD school, and was going to leave the big city the next day to go home for Christmas break. I had probably written something like fifty pages worth of academic papers that week, and I was pretty sleep-deprived, but it was my turn to make dinner for my roommates one more time before we all went our separate ways for the holiday. at this point in my life, I was not in possession of a car, so I walked for twenty minutes or so to the local family-owned grocery story, bought the ingredients for fajitas, and started to walk back. “started” being the key term here.

there was a particular intersection I crossed every single day, any time I had to get anywhere. I think it was a four-lane road crossing another four-lane road, but I can’t remember now. anyway, it was right next to the metro stop, and every time people got off the train a whole crowd would jaywalk across the road without waiting for the light. and I, being a despicable goody-two-shoes, never did that. I would wait nicely for the light to change and the little pedestrian light to turn on, and then I would cross in the crosswalk.

on this particular day, I waited at the curb with my two very heavy bags of groceries, and when the light changed I stepped into the crosswalk, as per usual. it was not at this point that I was hit, because then it would be my fault for not checking to see if anyone was coming before I stepped into the crosswalk. no, I was at least eight steps into the crosswalk. at this point in the story I’d like to introduce a new character: a blue pick-up truck. the driver of said blue pick-up truck had been planning to make a right turn on a red light, and had been looking up ahead to the left to check for oncoming traffic. he was not, as it turns out, looking up ahead to check for four-foot-ten graduate students whose groceries weighed more than she did. I believe the driver saw me right before impact, and braked. I had also noticed the truck, just in time to know it was definitely going to hit me and there was nothing I could do.

the grille of the truck hit me in the vicinity of my left hip and knocked my feet out from under me. I landed face-first, caught myself on my hands and arms, and then bounced/slid/flew another twelve feet or so backwards. (I never had any bruising on my knees, so I can only assume I caught myself on my toes like the winter soldier.) I was fairly certain I was going to be run over by any, if not many of the cars waiting for the light, but when I looked up I just saw a row of drivers looking at me in horror with their mouths open. “alright,” I thought, “they see me. I might not be about to die.” nobody made a move to do anything or came rushing out to help me. the driver of the blue pick-up truck got out, and was looking dazedly one of my grocery bags, which was under his car. I waited for him to say something. he said, “I’ve completely crushed your groceries.” “that,” I said coldly, “is not really what I’m concerned about right now.” “no,” he said, “of course not.” seeing that I wasn’t going to get any sense out of him, I picked myself up and went and sat myself down on the curb and called my roommate. she was making candles or lemon curd or something for Christmas presents, and didn’t answer. the driver of the blue pick-up had pulled his truck over to the side of the road and was now hovering over me nervously. his all-too-clear shock was beginning to be funny. I offered my hand to shake, and introduced myself. he said his name was Bob. “You couldn’t have done this last week when I had finals, Bob?” I said. Bob did not think this was funny, and seemed to think he had really knocked something loose in my brain.

I examined myself for injuries. I had some road rash, and some pebbles in my arms. I picked them out. my roommate had not called back, and I was starting to contemplate just walking the rest of the way home. Bob did not think this was a good idea. just when I was about to start my trek, my roommate called back. “I was hit by a car,” I told her. “WHAT?” she said. I told her where I was, and a minute later she came screeching up in her car, got out, slammed her door, and stalked up to Bob demanding, “What happened?” my roommate is tall, and full of the intimidating confidence that comes from being the only girl in the PhD program while she was in classes, and she lifts weights. Bob cowered. I sat back and let her berate him. when he had cringingly handed over his insurance information, my roommate and I got into her car. “How do you feel?” she asked me. “Like I’ve been hit by a car,” I said. we both laughed. “I’m gonna stress-cry now,” I said, and promptly did so.

“I bet Specific Other Roommate cries,” my roommate said, after we’d gotten home and she’d called one of her doctor friends on speakerphone, and also the police. “She wasn’t even there, and I’m fine,” I said. Specific Other Roommate, when she got home from work and was told what had happened, first screamed, and then cried. I did not make fajitas. we ordered Greek food, and ate it while watching Guardians of the Galaxy 2, which I had never seen before. 

I bruised extensively, and was extremely stiff for about a week. my road rash was not fun. I did not go to the doctor. I did tell the story all throughout Christmas when I would normally have been trying to make doctoral studies sound interesting and approachable. I did manage to get out of doing any chores while I was home for the holidays. and I did act as bridesmaid and cantor for a friend’s wedding while I was still visibly bruised and abraded.

and that, my dear, is the lore.

[face-breaker]

While not a fan of the cold, Toshinori didn't mind it...most of the time.

It's a slightly different story, though, when it's a thirty minute walk to school and the windchill is below FREEZING — but fifteen minutes in, with frozen fingers and what felt like frostbite on his nose, he can finally see the towering building in the distance. It's a relief that brings about a sigh, just as Haru accidentally NUDGES against him.

He doesn't remember when, or how this really started — the two making a habit out of walking to school together. But you won't hear Toshinori complaining. Not about that anyway...maybe a little bit about not being able to feel his ears anymore, but he enjoyed the other's company.

So, when he finally looks down at the girl, watching as she stumbled away from him, he had to stave off his initial look of CONFUSION. She had been acting strange like this lately — and not just because of the cold, like she'd insisted. But he couldn't deny that she did look like she could freeze over any minute now. There was no hesitation between her stammering explanation and the removal of his own scarf, tossing it around Haru himself, knowing she wouldn't accept it if offered otherwise.

They come to a stop at a crosswalk, busiest intersection in Musutafu, when his classmate finally gives in and thanks him. It brings about a toothy grin — even despite the cool breeze now invading his own bare skin, seeping into the crevices of his jacket. "You're welcome!" he makes sure to return. "But...you should keep it. At least until you get yours back." It's INSISTED, and Toshinori wasn't going to take no for an answer, so he butts back in before Haru can even think about declining the offer. "I just hope Drem is keeping warm on his fieldtrip! I'm sure he appreciated you letting him borrow yours!"

Gaze floats back up, smile still bright on his face as he waits for the crosswalk countdown. Fifteen...fourteen...thirteen — he rocks from his heels to his toes with each tick, hoping the little bit of movement would help in generating some body heat. Nine...eight — eyes drift off into the distance at seven as the traffic lights begin to change and cars slowly begin to come to a stop. Save for one. A box truck. And it's barreling down the street, not slowing down at all. More than likely trying to avoid stopping at the light.

Toshinori notices the truck at five, and, before the crosswalk can count down to four, he's got his jacket pried open by the pockets — the fabric swallowing the girl whole as arms move to wrap around her shoulders in a tight embrace.

At four, the truck flies past the two and through the intersection — one more half second passing by before a wall of chilled wind smacks into the taller student's back like a tidal wave. He has to shuffle his feet a bit to keep his balance, but he hopes his efforts were able to mostly shield Haru from the massive DRAFT still rolling off the truck.

It isn't until the crosswalk changes and others begin to cross the street that Toshinori even begins to peel the fabric away. "Well, that was close!" he stifles a bit of laughter, peeking down into his jacket with another grin before checking on his classmate,

"Are you okay?"

❛ here, you can have my scarf. ❜ — for haru ! from toshi !!

winter holiday prompts // @face-breaker

her cat ears were laid flat in attempts to stave off the cold, a little pink and numb at the points; whatever big cat genes made up her quirk definitely did not derive from an animal used to these frigid temperatures. her nose and cheeks were tinged with color too as the breeze blew right through her, the cat clenching her teeth in her body's automatic attempt to bite back the chill. there was a minute shiver about her as she subconsciously huddled closer to toshinori, the two of them heading to class together. normally, xiao would be with them, but he'd told haru to go ahead that morning as he was being pulled for the day to deal with family matters. she hoped whatever it was wouldn't be too rough on him — and she'd have to remember to bring him any homework assigned out later.

"i hope they've r-really got the heat on in there today... all this weather makes me w-want to do is lay under some blankets! m-maybe near a big fireplace... a-and fall asleep..."

her voice turns to fog in the frosty air, grey eyes catching sight of the academy in the distance, beneath the equally grey sky. was it going to snow later? it certainly felt like it was cold enough to do so. as her slowly numbing body continued to tremble under the chill, again she unwittingly shuffled closer to toshi, this time bumping into him. the bitter cold was suddenly not the only thing turning her cheeks pink.

"ah, i'm s-sorry! just... a little c-clumsy in this cold." she grumbled in embarrassment, backing off a step. "drem has m-my hat and scarf for his class's f-field trip today, s-so... i'm a little out of sorts..." haru offered another quiet apology under her breath, the sound disappearing into the wind.

"here, you can have my scarf."

as she feels the fabric drape around her neck and shoulders, it's almost as if the cold is entirely snapped out of her. pink cheeks and ears flush red as haru turns to look up at toshinori, grey eyes wide with surprise, expression frazzled.

"oh, y-you don't have to do that!" she started nervously. "i can see the s-school, i can make it..." her voice peters out, however, as the fabric's heat really begins to wash over her.

he'd been wearing it, so it had already been warmed up. it was soft, cozy. it smelled like him. slowly, haru reached up to readjust the scarf, wrapping it over and around her ears to help defrost them, tying the remainder off around her neck; instant relief, particularly for her feline ears. her gaze falls low to her hands as she tries to minimize the visibility of her flustered appearance.

"...thank you, toshi. d-don't let me forget to give it back to you!"

if she'd been feeling braver, she might have reached for his hand.

[babblydrabbly]

Sundays || Rick Flag x Reader || Professor AU || Pt 2

FROM EDEN Masterlist || Main Masterlist

A/N: Got inspired to continue my older!professor rick flag x f!reader story. Sequel to Honey Sweet. Part 2/? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Fluff. Smut - 2k+ words - Warnings: Named reader. Food mention. Oral (f receiving). Rick is about 45-50. Reader is around 30.

You spot Rick on a run while out walking your dog. You get to talking.

You pinch your dark peacoat close to your chest as you squint against the icy morning wind. The campus is quieter on the weekends- just the way you prefer it when you take Bailey out for longer walks. The grass is stiff and white with morning frost as you take your time. Ahead of you, the dog trots happily on her leash, stopping to sniff as she pleases.

There are a few others out with the same idea. At mid-morning, you pass a few college age students in their work out clothes and some residential walkers out with their partners or pets too. It’s a huge contrast to the bustle of weekday classes- the campus streets and parking lots are emptied of most cars. Still, you wait at the crosswalk to let your dog snuffle curiously at the lamppost.

You keep your eyes ahead as a figure jogs across the intersection from the other direction, their head down as they pass behind you down the sidewalk where you’ve just come from. You do a double take when you recognize the familiar dark blond hair pressed under a white baseball cap and watchface bound firmly to the man’s wrist.

“Professor Flag.” You greet before he jogs too far. The man’s attention snaps back over his shoulder immediately at the sound of your voice. Rick slows, then stops.

“Row.” Plumes of breath hang heavy in the cold air as he parts his lips with a surprised smile. “Or should I stick to Ms. Lin?”

You blanch lightly at the name. “That makes it sound like I’m one of your students.”

Rick smirks. You watch as he approaches, his skin flushed and glistening where you can see it. He keeps his windbreaker zipped up tightly to the collar- you can’t imagine jogging for very long in pants and a jacket like that, even in this early Spring weather.

You’re pulled from the thought as he draws nearer until you’re craning your neck up to focus on his face. Rick’s voice is a low, deep drawl as he peers down at you. “Then I think Rick’s just fine, between the two of us.” He muses. You find yourself matching his flushed look in an instant.

Rick removes his hands from his hips when a light bark answers him before you can. He glances down and notices the happy bernedoodle waggling its rear between the two of you.

“And who’s this?” Rick kneels to scratch the dog’s head.

You clear your throat. “Oh, this is Bailey.”

He hums as he reads the small, gold name tag off the collar.

“You must be a very good girl.” Rick comments. And though you know he’s speaking to Bailey, you redden again. Rick stands after a few more moments of pats before righting himself to his full height.

You exchange some more pleasantries there at the intersection, the light changing colors plenty of times before Rick begins to walk slowly backwards in his intended direction. But it hangs in the air unspoken- the last time the two of you saw one another- your handful of quick, stolen moments that have only grown hotter and longer every time. But you offer to let the man return to his routine, careful not to break the spell by lingering any longer. This was his territory, after all, and you’re keenly aware of the professor’s diligent separation of his personal and professional life (Except for the times your presence has made him break his own rule more than once or twice).

Rick takes a few more steps before turning around.

“Row,” He calls. You pull Bailey back onto the curb, a little startled. Rick returns to you, that familiar assuredness taking over him as he squares his shoulders and levels you with a quiet but strong gaze.

“Are you free this weekend? Maybe for some brunch at my place… if it’s not too forward.”

You don’t know how- perhaps the flicker of his hazel eyes down to your frost-flushed lips- but his low tone suggests so much more. From a distance, the two of you could be discussing anything.

Finally, you remember to answer when your stunned little look goes on for a moment too long. You nod, and Rick’s broad shoulders seem to relax as you flash him a bright smile.

“I’d love that.”

+

You meet him after your shift at the coffee shop, a small box of his favorite pastries in your hands when he opens the door. Rick’s promise of brunch is a surprising spread- certainly more food than you expect for two people. You marvel at the small chuckle he pushes out when he tells you he got a little carried away. He seems more relaxed here, in his own home, and any tension you held at visiting him for the first time melts away.

Your early afternoon is so different from your other encounters. It’s not the frantic bursts of pleasure or the thrill of sneaking around. In fact, you doze off once or twice after your languid, quiet meal with Rick Flag. His bungalow just outside the campus bounds has bright windows and a comfy couch- nothing at all what you pictured for the no-nonsense professor. He tells you after years of sleeping on the hard ground and in cramped barracks, he’s happily embraced making his home feel lived-in.

But it’s not all food and conversation, of course. You stir from Rick’s embrace as he moves down your body, rousing you with the press of his lips across your skin. You hum in sleepy approval as he plants himself on the carpet before you, allowing him to draw your shirt up to expose your midriff. Rick’s eyes close as he kisses you, his fingers working your button and zipper undone.

The afternoon melts into evening, and with all the leftover food, Rick suggests you stay the night and help him finish it all off. You grin at the weak excuse, but you don’t protest. You pull Rick into the hallway and ask him coyly for a tour of the rest of the house instead.

+

It’s an odd feeling to wake up in Rick’s bed the next morning.

You drift in and out, your breaths matching as his bare chest presses against your back. His firm hold on you in the night has loosened now that he’s still deep asleep, and you slip from his grasp easily as you wander out of the bedroom for a drink of water in your t-shirt and underwear.

His home is made up of two bedrooms, but Rick has long since converted the second into a study. You slide the heavy doors apart curiously after you put a fresh pot of coffee on to brew in the kitchen.

As you expect, the bookshelves and file cabinets are organized immaculately. His collection is heavy with resources on ancient languages and history- but you spy a section by the window you suspect is just for pleasure. You smile as you browse Rick’s fiction section. It’s still latent with war stories and classic literature.

You note with some novelty at the small rolling ladder pushed into the corner of the room. Pulling it over to the middle bookshelf you take a few careful steps up to look at the books toward the ceiling. You don’t notice the footsteps approaching after a few minutes, but Rick’s sleep-heavy voice is a welcome sound.

“Any titles catch your eye?” Rick greets by the door, looking up at you. He leans against the frame with his arms crossed as he watches you- his body as adonic as the figures in so many of the artbooks he’s got lined up in the Greek and Roman section. You bite back a sly smile, keeping your eyes pointedly on the spine in front of you.

“I think I spotted the Kama Sutra in not two but three languages down there.” You note, gesturing over by his resource sections.

Rick chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “Never know what gets lost in translation.”

You make a soft sound of approval as Rick enters the room behind you. You busy yourself with pulling a novel off the shelf printed in Swedish and try your hand at pronouncing the title.

“Not bad.” He smirks against your shoulder blade. Even on the second rung, you feel Rick’s lips easily trail up to the back of your neck. He breathes you in for a moment, his calloused hands slipping around your hips. You huff, knowing you’ve probably butchered the words on the cover.

You take a step up the ladder and replace the book. “Is this why you got into linguistics? To uncover the lost pieces?”

You let out a small squeak when you try to step off the ladder and find Rick’s hands keeping you propped there by the back of your thighs. You grasp the oak sides and crane around to glance down at him.

Rick takes his time as he noses at the hem of your panties, his lashes fluttering against the small sliver of skin exposed at the base of your back.

“No…” He considers your question. “Just always found communicatin’ interesting. Ever since havin’ to memorize IRSA.”

You give his words a thoughtful hum, though you’re distracted by the way his teeth nip over the swell of your ass. You blink, “IRSA?”

“Alpha, bravo, charlie…” He trails off. You can feel the curl of his lips against your skin.

“I see…” Your voice dips into a sharp inhale when Rick’s fingers hook into your panties and drag them down your body slowly.

He guides you as you step out of them and discards them onto the carpet. A large hand slips up your shirt, splaying itself across the small of your back, coaxing you to lean forward, your exposed rear pushing back against the man’s face.

You gasp at the first wet kiss against your inner thigh. Rick’s tongue laves its way up between your legs until it swipes at your folds. The arch of your back is instantaneous- a plea for more. You grip the ladder with a bite of your lip, your head dropping forward as the ex-colonel obliges. Rick’s groan reverberates through you as he slides his tongue into your cunt, already tasting how slick his gentle ministrations have made you.

Your knees quake as he begins eating you out in earnest- that hunger that never seems to quell washing over him again- even after a long night of similar activities. He removes his hand from your back to grasp and knead at both your cheeks, spreading them apart to nudge his way deeper into you. You whimper as Rick alternates between your hot core and your clit, his tongue drawing circles around it vigorously until you think you might buckle.

“I- Rick, I can’t-,” You pant. Rick’s palm lands a loud slap to your ass, startling a cry out of you. His wordless grip is a firm but careful response- you’re going to come just like this. Your knuckles whiten as you hold onto the rung in front of you, forehead pressed to the wood as your climax nears.

Rick purses his lips to suck at your swollen bud over and over until you think the white hot flame in your belly might burn you up. You squeeze your eyes shut as your hips buck once, twice- Rick knows the familiar shake in your voice enough to keep going. Nails dig into your flesh as his jaw works you, his own low, moans a deep contrast to the high, breathy staccato that fills the room as you flush and shake.

You shout his name as you come, knees pressing together as your body bows in ecstasy. Rick holds you flush against him as you buck with every wave afterward, until you finally take a step down into his arms, breathless. Rick carries you down off the ladder, holding your weight as you come down from your high. Eventually, you find your footing again, your head tipping back as he peppers your neck with more languid kisses.

You reach up to card your fingers through his soft hair, tugging on it. “Shower?”

“No coffee?” He reminds you with a smirk. It melts away with a growl when you drop your hand down over his straining arousal. You give his length a stroke through his boxer briefs, letting your palm glide over the tip of his cock. He groans as the telling hint of precum leaks through the fabric.

You capture his lips to taste yourself hungrily, nose rubbing against his. “Coffee can wait.”

[nightlychaotic]

The Reason The Angel Fell From The Sky (I Knocked Her Over)

“Come on, Ice Prince of Gotham here probably wouldn’t be able to be romantic if his life depended on it.”

“I am positive that, if I wanted to, I could be romantic.”

“No, he’s got a point, Damian. You do tend to be a bit cold and icy to everyone.”

“Tt. I could, Todd, if need be.”

“Oh really? You’re going to have to prove it,” Jason replied, shoving Damian. Hard. Into a girl.

The girl, unfortunately, had turned around and taken a couple steps right at that moment, arms full carrying several bolts of fabric. She hadn’t noticed him, and Damian couldn’t stop his momentum. The two collided, knocking the other down, fabric flying. Damian glared at his brothers as he collected himself, before trying to help the girl collect her belongings, grabbing the bolts of fabric and shoving them at his brothers for them to carry. He turned to offer the girl a hand up.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to knock you down. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You have no need to apologize. It was my idiotic brothers’ fault. Are you alright?”

“Oh I’m fine, I do more damage when I trip myself than that small fall. I’m Marinette by the way.”

Damian gave a small bow, taking her hand, slowly raising it to place a kiss on the back of it, never breaking eye contact.

“Damian.”

The two stood there for a moment, a small smirk gracing Damian’s face while Marinette’s cheeks flushed as they stared at each other.

“Not going to introduce us, Damian? How rude. I’m Dick and this is Jason” Dick chimed in, grinning as he broke the small moment.

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Marinette said, as she moved to take her fabric back from Dick and Jason. They stepped back and held the bolts away from her.

“Give me my fabric back, please.”

“Nope. We’re carrying these, little lady. It’s the least we can do after knocking you down.”

“Any way I can convince you guys otherwise?” she asked once more trying to grab the bolts.

“Nope,” Jason grinned.

“No way. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” Dick agreed, as Marinette rolled her eyes and laughed.

“Fine, but I’m paying you back for this.”

“You don’t need t-”

“Nope. If you insist, I insist. Come on. Those get heavy fast and we got a bit of a way to walk.”

“I apologize for my brothers,” Damian said, as Marinette led the way. She laughed and smiled at him in return.

“It’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse than those two in the past. I’m not ruining any of your plans am I?”

“No. Not at all. We were simply exploring the city when my brothers pushed me into you.”

“Oh! Where are you from originally?”

“Gotham City, New Jersey.”

“That’s the city with umm… Batman right? My friend Alya went on about them all the time before Hawkmoth showed up.”

“Hawkmoth? Those videos are real?” Dick chimed in from behind.

“Mhmm. My friend Alya runs the Ladyblog. Arguably the best source in all of Paris on Akuma Attacks. She’s a bit reckless to get as close as she can but she gets the best footage as a result,” Marinette explained, sounding a bit exasperated. “Anyways depending on how long you three plan on staying, you will probably witness an Akuma sooner or later. Especially since Hawkmoth’s been quiet the past few days. Almost concerningly so,” she muttered towards the end as she slowed down.

“What was that, Pixie pop?” Jason asked, as he kept walking passing the three others, turning his head to look back. Marinette’s eyes widened slightly as she lunged forward to grab the back of Jason’s jacket and yank him back from the crosswalk as a car sped through. Pulling him back and off-balance, crashing into her. For the second time that day, Marinette found herself being knocked over by a Wayne.

“Fuck. You okay there?” Jason asked, scrambling to get up as Damian once again offered her a hand up.

“I’m fine. Sorry, I didn’t warn you. Cars tend to speed a bit at this intersection. You aren’t the first person I’ve pulled out of the road. It’s nothing, really.”

“You got some hidden strength there don’t you. You sure you’re okay?” Jason asked, gathering the bolts he was carrying back into his arms.

“I’m fine. Promise,” Marinette reassured him, smiling, before leading them across the street into a bakery. “Maman, Papa, I’m back!” she called, as they entered. “I brought some friends with me!” Marinette turned to them and put her arms out. “Fabrics please? I want to run them up to my room really quick.” She told them as she half wrestled, half stole the bolts from Dick and Jason. “Feel free to take a seat anywhere if you want. Or leave, you don’t have to stay. But the food is delicious, if you decide to stay,” she told them before disappearing up a flight of stairs.

The three Wayne boys took a seat by the large windows, waiting for Marinette’s return.

“So it appears The Ice Prince may actually be able to be romantic. Who’d have guessed.”

“Shut it, Todd,” Damian snapped.

Jason put his hands up in a calming gesture. “Just saying, it’s nice to see that sometimes you just need a little push,” he said grinning, before Damian lunged across the table towards him. Damian heard the sounds of rushing footsteps before he was pulled off of his brother, wrists grabbed and used to pin his arms behind his back as he was turned to face Marinette, pressed up against her.

“Nope! If you two want to fight, you can go to the park across the street. Not in my family’s bakery,” Marinette scolded looking up slightly at Damian.

“Todd was being an annoyance, h-” Damian started to defend himself, looking down at her, as she cut him off.

“Don’t care. Not in the bakery.”

“Tt. As you wish.”

“Thank you.”

“So are you two going to stay there like that all day or are you going to kiss?” Jason interrupted.

The two took in their position, a light blush fought its way onto Damian’s cheeks as Marinette turned red and quickly released her hold on Damian, stepping away.

“I am so sorry, that was inappropriate of me.”

“It’s fine.”

Marinette just nodded, taking a deep breath, cheeks still flushed. “Would you guys like anything to eat?”

“That would be great,” Dick answered, fighting back a grin. Marinette nodded and disappeared into a back room. “So was that a blush I saw little D?”

“Tt. No.It was not. Anyways, Todd was right, as much as I hate to admit it. Marinette is very strong despite her appearance.”

“Why do you think that is?” Dick asked.

“Why don’t we just ask her when she gets back? Jason threw out, leaning back in his chair as he waited. As Marinette returned balancing four plates, setting them down on the table, and joining them, Jason sprung the question: “So you got some strength in you, huh?”

“Oh. I guess so. I’m really not that strong. I don’t really work out that much, just some gymnastics here and again,” she explained. Damian looked at her dubiously.

“Gymnastics?” Dick asked.

“Yeah. I took it when I was younger and I try to go to an open gym when I have the time. It's not as often as I would like, but I manage to get there a couple times a month.”

Damian took in the girl sitting next to him as she and Dick talked about gymnastics. She was stronger than she should be if all she does is gymnastics once or twice a month, with a strong grip and strength enough to pull a moving Todd back and pull him off of Todd and pin his arms behind him. She was small, enough that her strength was very surprising, seemed to get flustered fairly easily, but wouldn’t hesitate to take charge to try and get what she wanted. She confused him, and he found himself wanting to figure her out.

The four of them talked, getting to know each other, mainly Marinette, better while they enjoyed her family’s baking. Eventually the boys had to leave though, standing to leave Marinette took their plates as they headed towards the door.

“Feel free to stop by anytime if you need help or are just hungry. I hope you guys enjoy Paris while you’re here,” she told them as they left, smiling. The three Wayne boys said their farewells and left, walking down a few blocks before Damian stopped.

“I forgot my wallet in the bakery. I’ll be right back,” Damian lied, slipping away from his brothers back to the bakery. He cleared his throat slightly when he entered, gaining Marinette’s attention.

“Hi Damian. Anything I can help you with?”

“Would you like to go out on a date with me some time?”

Marinette blushed as she nodded. “I would love to, Damian,” she replied grinning, scribbling something on a napkin and holding it out to him. “My number. Feel free to text me whenever.”

Damian took the napkin from her, and once again grabbed her hand, bowing slightly as he placed a kiss on the back of it once more, flicking his eyes up to meet hers as he straightened. “I look forward to seeing you again,” he said as he started to leave. Damian, paused when he felt Marinette grab his wrist. He looked over at her as she pressed a small, chaste kiss on his cheek blushing furiously.

“I’ll see you later, Damian,” she said smiling, before disappearing back into the bakery. Damian blushed slightly as a soft smile formed, before turning to head back to his brothers.

The Ice Prince of Gotham melting just a touch under the Paris sun.

---------------------------------------------

So I wrote most of this between 3am and 4am so I apologize if it doesn't make a ton of sense, but I hope y'all enjoy.

Thank you so freaking incredibly much to @ur-favorite-queer-queen for helping me the title!!!! Life saver!!!!

[set-phasers-to-whump]

enough is enough

prompt: knees buckling

whumpee: john reese

fandom: person of interest

hi here's my second poi fic! i'm still only in s1 so apologies if anything seems wonky, i'm very much just getting to know the show but it's just so fun to write!!! i hope you like it :)

The wound in his side is sluggishly leaking blood, staining the crisp white fabric of his shirt bright red. It pulls uncomfortably with each running stride he takes, but he has no time to slow down to try to fix it. 

He’s in hot pursuit of their latest number. For the second time. The first chase had ended not five minutes ago when the number - one Peter Davis - had shot him. 

Despite having been shot by him, John doesn’t think that Davis is bad. He’d just gotten involved with the wrong crowd in a desperate attempt to afford cancer treatments for his wife. He owes money he doesn’t have to people who won’t accept that he doesn’t have it. And he’d apparently used some of this money to buy a gun. 

He’s scared. John had seen it in his face right before he’d been shot, as he had been trying to explain why he’d grabbed Davis off the street. If he’d kept going in the same direction, he would have been ambushed by the men he owes, probably shot and killed. It’s the middle of the night in a bad part of town. No one would have cared. 

But John had barely been able to get a word out before Davis had wriggled out of his grasp, pulled a gun, and shot. While John had been briefly incapacitated, he’d taken off, right towards the danger. 

And now John is here, running down the sidewalk with his hand wrapped around the pistol in his pocket, trying to get to Davis before Davis gets to the men who are looking for him. 

“Security cameras just caught Mr. Davis three blocks ahead of you,” comes Finch’s voice through his earpiece. 

“That SUV still parked in the same place?”

“Yes, it is.”

Davis is rapidly approaching the men who want his money. Very likely he is rapidly approaching his death. John runs faster, all-out sprinting now. He feels the bleeding increase. The pain follows suit. He takes notice of these things, and that’s where their effect on him stops. 

“Are you still okay, Mr. Reese?” Finch asks, as John sprints through a crosswalk. He has to be gaining ground on Davis. The man isn’t exactly a professional athlete. 

“I’m fine, Finch. Where’s Davis now?”

“Two blocks ahead. He just passed by a bodega.”

He is catching up. But, if he’s done his math correctly, in another three blocks, Davis will run right into the hands - and guns - of the very men John is trying to protect him from. 

He sprints even faster, pushing the pain aside. He’d maybe lied to Finch, a little. He is fine at the moment, but Finch thinks he’d only been grazed. The bullet lodged firmly in the middle of his right side would beg to differ. 

He catches up to Davis when the man is all of a building’s length away from the intersection with the street where the SUV is parked. He grabs Davis, pulls the gun out of his grip before he can do any more damage with it, and clamps a hand over his mouth before he can make a noise. 

“Be quiet,” he hisses, dragging the man backwards. “You know the men who’ve been trying to hunt you down?”

Davis nods. He’s shaking. John removes his hand, and he stays silent. 

“They’re just around that corner, waiting for you. So how about you turn around and walk the other way? Get yourself to a hotel, register under a false name. Let me handle this.”

Another nod. John lets him go. 

Davis takes all of two steps in the other direction, and then he spins back around and wrenches his gun out of John’s hand. It’s unexpected, and John doesn’t react quickly enough. Davis starts running towards where the men in the SUV lie in wait. 

“I’m finishing this!” he shouts. "I've had enough!"

John runs after him and does the only thing he can - he tackles him to the ground. The impact makes the pain in his side flare sharply. The gun goes off. A window shatters. 

He gets to his feet quickly, adrenaline quickly replacing the pain. Davis shoots up just as fast, gun still in hand. John draws his own gun. There is no time to run now. Everything is too close. 

A car door slams just around the corner. 

“Mr. Reese?”

“A little busy at the moment, Finch.”

The men round the corner, guns out, and John starts shooting. Davis joins him. He’s a surprisingly good shot for a man who has apparently never handled a gun before this week. 

The other men return fire. One of them has a machine gun. John takes him out as quickly as he can. Bullets spray the sidewalk around him, kicking up sparks. 

Davis takes out two men in rapid succession before taking a bullet to the shoulder. John sees him hit the ground just as he hits the final gunman straight between the eyes. 

The silence is deafening. Smoke rises from the bodies, illuminated by a single streetlight. They need to get out of here. A shooting of this magnitude will have the place crawling with police in less than fifteen minutes. 

“Mr. Reese.” Finch’s voice breaks the silence, insistent and loud.

“We’re okay, Finch. Davis took a shot to the shoulder, but he’s alright.”

“You’d better get out of there. There have been three 911 calls already.”

“I’m sure there have been. What’s the best route?”

Finch tells him. John mentally notes all of the information as he walks towards Davis, who is slowly getting to his feet with a hand pressed to the bleeding wound at the top of his shoulder. 

This reminds John of his own injury. The adrenaline of the fight had masked it almost completely, but once he remembers that he’d been hurt, the pain returns at full force. John bites back a wince and looks down. The amount of blood on his clothes is surprising. So is the sudden, overwhelming dizziness that accompanies it. 

“Hey, Finch?”

“Yes, Mr. Reese?”

“I think I might be…in a little bit of trouble.”

His knees buckle beneath him, and he hits the ground hard. He’s unconscious before he has time to hear Finch’s response. 

--

He wakes up in a bed. It’s not a bed he knows. The room around him is dark, lit only by moonlight coming in through a single window. It smells like antiseptic. His side is throbbing. His throat is sore. 

He looks around as his eyes adjust to the darkness. He seems to be in a bedroom. It’s sparsely furnished, with a table beside him and a dresser on the opposite wall and a bookshelf in the corner. Based on the noises coming from beyond the window, he’s still in the city. The smell suggests medicine, though this is clearly not anything close to a hospital. 

But he can feel fresh stitches pulling his skin together beneath the blanket. There’s a pad of gauze taped to his arm where an IV would have been. The work of one of Finch’s many acquaintances, he guesses. Very possibly, he’s in someone’s house. 

He wants to get up, explore his surroundings, find a weapon, but sleep takes him back under before he can even fully sit up.

--

He wakes up a second time, still in the same bed. It’s light now, and the pain is more insistent. He reorients himself, remembers waking earlier. He wonders for a second about the absence of drugs in his system. 

The door opens. He sits up in a flash, looking around for something to use as a weapon. He grabs a book off of the table next to him and aims. 

It’s only Finch. John drops the book and leans back against the pillows, his side hurting even more now. Luckily, he doesn’t feel anything bleeding. 

“Be careful, Mr. Reese. You wouldn’t want to tear your stitches.”

“Where are we?”

Finch shakes his head. “All in good time, Mr. Reese. You’re safe, which is all you really need to know for now.”

About the answer he’d expected. “How’s Davis?”

“He’s fine. The bullet only grazed him. Unlike you. You lied to me, Mr. Reese.”

“Right, and neither one of us has ever done that before.”

Finch looks at him severely. “You told me, repeatedly, might I add, that you were fine. Collapsing unconscious in the middle of the street is decidedly not fine.”

There’s no good defense against that one, or at least none that John can think of. He’s tired again, which seems impossible. He forces his eyes to stay open, forces himself to speak. 

“Sorry,” is all he can think to say. He doesn’t say, I won’t do it again, because they both know that he can’t make a promise like that. He doesn’t say, it could’ve been worse, because there’s no point in bringing up something they both understand. 

“I know, Mr. Reese. Now get some more rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

John stops fighting off the exhaustion. He falls back asleep before Finch even turns off the light.

thanks for reading! this was def not the best but it wasn't the worst either so i'm fine with that lol. i am so tired for literally no reason ughhh. anyways though i hope you liked this!! see you tomorrow <3

[arkhampsych]

In the time that it took her to finally direct her attention towards what he was saying, Crane examined his rear view mirror to try and discover what she was so concerned about. he sees … cars. nothing particularly conspicuous about a well populated road at this hour. Many are waking and dragging their lethargic bodies to work. Though, it was entirely possible Lorelai noticed something he was oblivious to while focusing on the road ahead. they were being tracked, after all.

He turned towards her again, expecting an answer — maybe a bit of lip for the blatant impudence he expressed towards her decision to confront their adversary. She offered nothing of the sort. 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥. He understood that she left the decision in his capable hands, that she trusted him — at least, to the extent of resolving their shared conflict. Crane’s apathetic flippancy faltered.

He didn’t like how unwary Lorelai’s eyes looked as sunlight accentuated their azure. They gleamed with a radiant confidence, but not in any way that was off - putting. He looked back towards the intersection. Thankfully, the stoplight permissed him to draw her vehicle forward and leave that observation at the foot of a crosswalk, where it was made.

“ 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 … ” His eyes darted back to the rear view mirror. Before he had time pinpoint by which vehicle she raised her voice, demanding that he act. He tore through the intersection — he remembered that he had replaced wayne’s license plates with his own. If he received a ticket, that would be lee’s concern. — speeding away from two grey cars that suddenly gained in speed. He scoffed at her threat, ready to fire a retort of his own, but when he turned to do so he realized she had disappeared. 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.

Crane started thinking of where he could drive to lose the agents. If he continued to drive around cars at such a high speed, the police would likely get involved. He scanned the road : short brick buildings transitioned into looming iridescent towers and businesses gilded in art - deco. A loud crash wrenched his attention from an on - coming underpass. His head spun over his shoulder, looking around Lorelai’s headrest. One of the grey cars collided with another. Ripples from the crash were indented on it’s hood and shattered windshield. Crane smirked and sped towards the end of the tunnel.

The car was bathed in light. He blinked aggressively to focus on the entrance of a parking garage further down the street, pressing on the gas to gain more speed. The car swerved at the garages entrance. Crane spun the wheel and backing up towards a short line of cars queuing up to receive a voucher. He leaned forward to get a better view of a long red and white bar stretching across the lot’s opening.

A business man leaned back in from his side window, preparing to pull forward past the slow - rising bar. Without hesitating, Crane slammed on the gas. The car’s wheels screeched as they shot past the business man’s car. A woman in a blue shirt and orange vest stepped out of a cubicle in the center of the parking lots entrance. She, and the business man, watched as the dark vehicle rushed up a second level. “ — The hell ?! ”

He began to decelerate around the lot’s fourth level, pulling into a parking space in between a flamboyant red sports car and a dark grey Honda. The car’s engine suddenly cut out once he twisted and jerked its keys out of the ignition. They danced metallically on the center console where he had dropped them carelessly before taking his phone and wallet out of his pocket.

The card Waller’s agent had left in his office was nestled in a billfold pocket in between two cards he rarely used. Crane pulled out the card and dialed the number. He peered over the dash, looking around the parking garage as he waited for someone to pick up …

“ Doctor Crane. ” a voice inferred over the speaker. “ I’d like to speak to waller. ” He waited for a moment before rolling his eyes after realizing whoever picked up the phone wouldn’t allow him to do so. “ then I’d like to leave a message. ” he said, smiling sarcastically while leaning back into his seat. “ lee has decided to turn herself in. however, there are a some terms she would like to negotiate in person. If your organization wants lorelai, I suggest waller be present when these conditions are discussed tomorrow, at midnight, in the parking garage adjacent to Janus cosmetics … ” he paused before adding, “ bring the collar. ”

She was paranoid, extremely as she looked over her shoulder as she stuffed a brazier haphazardly into her luggage. She didn't see anything yet, just a few cars, red, black, black, grey, an offbeat yellow one. She grabbed some socks before she began to zip up the luggage. Her hand reached to one end before making one long zip, snagging at the corner as she listened to Crane respond as she finished zipping up the luggage to completion. She glances back one more time before appearing beside him. She feels his suitcase by her feet. How considerate he left it there and not beside him. 

She bobbed her head to the side listening to his reason for having to hide for so long. This is true and it probably just adds suspicion to an already suspicious situation. The more ignorant they seem to Waller, the better. Though that may have been ruined when she snagged the tracker. She sighed twisting, looking over her shoulder, everything is one step forward and two steps back and it was starting to get unnerving. Red, black, and grey, are still behind them. She stares at the seemingly average-driving citizens of Gotham before hearing the words ❛I'm turning you in.❜

Her head slowly pulls from her staring out the back window as she faces the front blinding sun, causing her to squint for a moment. Its citrine rays still manage to wound her ethereal form. Some things manage to break through. Her head slowly tilts in his direction as she eyes him for a moment. She catches glimpses of his listless blue eyes, before gazing at the dash interior in front of her. She listens to him speak, his words— precise and accompanied by his usual smug arrogance that reminds her that he is still a doctor. A bad one but still one who thinks he's giving advice. She scoffs out a smirk. A seamless persona slip of one mask peeks through. However, his words sink in. 

It's a somber moment accompanied by a feeling of numbness. To be right, to read a situation right, to figure out one's true nature. Though Waller gave her little choice in the matter. She looks back to the side mirror at first, before twisting further to look back wholly. White, two grey, an olive green, a dark purple. She swallows as she stares at the two grey ones. One is a lone female, the other, a pair, and she's noticed that those two people have been on the same path a little too long. 

She realizes he's not done talking, as she had listened but didn't give it much thought. Now that they're behind a red light she has time to consider it. She feels him staring as she sucks in her cheeks and jerks her head to the side. That much she already knew, time behind bars, but would she rather go in without a backup plan? She rolls her head in his direction once more, her bluish-hazel eyes wide. ❝What do you think, Doc?❞ she answers before releasing a soft smile. He's smart enough to figure it out. The moment lingers. 

❝"We're being followed...❞ she added calmly. ❝So punch it!❞ she scolds before turning her head to sense the light turn green. Hoping this time he'll take her advice of getting lost in the short term. Enough to lose their tail. She glances back to see if that one grey car with two passengers is still following. She seamlessly crosses over, her mind briefly thinking of how she needs to hide the book, but priorities take over once more. She takes a deep breath, shoulders raising and lowering. ❝Don't wreck my car or I'm going to make you hurt really, really, badly,❞ she utters before letting the car pass right through her. 

She feels it again, this time her locks billowing as Crane drives through her and she realizes...that stupid attachment is still connected. Her eyes widen, she needs to cut it before it starts to turn into a natural one and then that's going to suck, but she calms as she eyes the grey car passing through her and notices it jerks a bit, knowing they may have seen her and swerved a bit. She disappears as she puts an attachment on the grey car. She's suddenly pulled, as she sits in the back seat. 

"Did you see that?!" the female passenger asks confused. 

"Yeah, but I obviously didn't hit anyone," the guy breathes out eyes wide. He's looking around nervously, she can feel it, his nervous energy radiating off of him, both of them, just him more so. 

"Well hurry up we're going to lose him and Flag's already pissed about the tracker," she urged.

Lorelai tilts her head, she figured right...again. She swallows, though, her thoughts going back to the string attachment she has on Crane...it's been on way too long. Though she doubts it'll ever become a natural string. It would require mutual thought and affection toward one another. She's pretty sure once she's out of the picture his thoughts will be solely focused on his work and Arkham. Besides she's going to have to need it to find him again after this. 

Lorelai stares at the passenger first who looks from the driver back to the road. She sticks her hand forward and through her head, she can feel her energy, she twists it before absorbing some of it. She's tired, she's stressed, Flag and Waller have been pressuring their crew to get real progress. She yanks her hand back. The woman's nose starts to bleed as she feels the warm liquid run down her face before leaning forward into her seatbelt. 

That didn't take long, she was about to conk out within the next hour anyways. She may have pushed her ethereal hand way too hard through her head however, she didn't mean to cause the woman's nose to bleed. The driver hasn't even noticed yet, his eyes are focused on the road and trying to get around a black car that's cruising instead of keeping flow with the traffic. She's not sure what to do with him, she doesn't want to knock him out and cause a huge accident. She places her elbows on the back of both seats as she appears between them. 

❝Hey...❞ Lorelai sings unenthusiastically. ❝-looking for someone?❞ she asks calmly as the driver's head snaps in her direction and gasps. His hands jerk the wheel to the side as he panics, he glances at his partner and realizes she's out cold. ❝Oooh, you better watch it!❞ she says jerking along with the car. 

The windshield cracks like an instantaneous web. Their bodies fling forward before flinging back. 

It's too late... his car hits the front of the car on the oncoming lane. It's bad...but survivable. She was hoping that he would hit a pole or a trash can, and slow them down. Though Gotham is a big city, so far, everyone is alive, and the airbags are inflated. A light dizzying headache reaches her as she feels part of the accident. ( The car is hurt & painful energy is scattered. ) Her nose bleeds like the passenger, her jaw stings like the driver, and her head hurts like the sudden impact of the car. She releases a heavy sigh before she ghostly wobbles, backing away and through the accident. Her steps are a bit shaky before she feels herself start to recover. 

The scene starts to catch up around her. Onlookers stop to check on the passengers, and an ambulance can be heard in the distance. Once the agents recover, they'll probably deliver a message to Waller on who did it. She swallows if Waller wants to put her behind bars then she might as well give her reasons to do so. 

[cyraclove]

“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” with modern BotW Zelink would be amazing :') (you can choose who gets hit and who visits! it works very well both ways)

Link stared into the windows of the flower display, his eyes traversing the plethora of multicolored blooms for the hundredth time. He’d been standing there for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, the tinny muzak of the hospital’s gift shop threatening to drive him out of his mind. The furled petals of a bouquet of yellow roses shook softly as the refrigerated case’s motor kicked on, looking almost as though they were laughing at him.

He decided against those.

Swallowing hard, he absentmindedly rubbed his palms together as he took stock of his ribbon-bound options yet again.

Sweaty. Why was he so sweaty?

Just pick some, you idiot, barked a voice in his head.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a foreign female voice that startled him from his thoughts, “Do you need some help?”

He turned to see an older, brunette woman with the roundest eyeglasses he had ever seen smiling pleasantly at him, her hands clasped behind her back. ‘Alma’, her nametag read.

He shook his head, scrambling for words. “Oh, uh…no, ma’am,” he stammered, attempting a sorry excuse for a smile, “I’m just…browsing.”

“Are you looking for something specific?” She asked, peering into the cooler. “We have flowers for just about any occasion. Flowers can say a lot just on their own, you know.”

How about some that say, ‘Sorry that I hit you with my car, complete stranger,’ he thought to himself. Link chuckled uncomfortably, knowing that he was definitely going to have to lie to this woman. “I’m here to visit my, er, friend. She was…in a car accident.”

Read on AO3

Alma nodded solemnly, clucking her tongue. “Oh, how terrible. I’m very sorry to hear that. People really can be such careless drivers these days, can’t they?”

“Yes,” he said through his teeth, “they certainly can be.” His eyes were drawn to a bunch of sickeningly pink ‘It’s A Girl!’ balloons, a nearby oscillating fan causing them to bob violently every minute or so. The screech of the colliding mylar made his stomach churn, and he silently wished for death.

“Well,” Alma began, a cool burst of air escaping the display when she opened the door, “I’m sure that we can pick something perfectly lovely that’ll have your friend feeling better in no time.”

The woman pursed her lips as she surveyed the case, humming thoughtfully. She eventually gathered up a bouquet of light blue lilies, their pointed petals tipped with white.

“What do you think of these?” she asked, “We just got them in from Necluda. This variety is called the ‘Silent Princess’, I believe.”

Before he could answer, Link’s phone began to ring, the shrill tone making him jump a bit. He grinned sheepishly at Alma as he fished it from his pocket, groaning inwardly as soon as he glimpsed the screen. Tapping his thumb on the red ‘ignore’ button, he tucked it away.

“Those are great,” he replied, “I’ll take them.”  

Alma smiled brightly, motioning for him to follow her the checkout counter. “Excellent,” she chimed, “Can I put them in a vase for you?”

His phone rang again. Link felt his eye twitch.

“Uh, sure. I mean, yes, please.”

“Would you like to add anything else? We have these precious sand seal plushies that would be just ador—”

“Just the flowers will be fine, thank you,” he said, more hurriedly than he’d intended. Snatching his phone from his pocket, he turned away from the counter and held the cell to his ear.

“What do you want?” He hissed.

A jovial cackle came from the other end of the line.

“Well, if it isn’t CHU’s resident asshole.”  

Link pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he inhaled deeply. This was, decidedly, the last thing he needed right now.

“You called me, Revali,” he snapped, “Do you actually need something, or did you just want to be a dick?”

“You wound me, Link,” the other young man drawled, “Oh, no—wait. I’m not the one who’s wounded, am I?”

Link clenched his jaw, the snip of Alma’s scissors on the flowers’ stems suddenly and inordinately loud. He glanced up at the woman only to have her swiftly look away, feigning focus on her task.

“You’re quite the hot topic on campus,” he heard Revali sigh, “I’m almost envious, what with the way everyone’s got your name in their mouths.”

“Who’s talking about it?”

“Who isn’t talking about it? Link, you hit a woman with your car. In the quad, for the love of Hylia. How’d you even manage that, anyway?”

“Okay, look,” he nearly seethed, “It was not in the quad, it was the intersection next to the quad. And it was an accident! I had the right of way, I didn’t see her, and the—the walk sign wasn’t even on!”

“Was she on the crosswalk?”

Link balked as he conjured up the memory from the other day. It had all happened so fast; one minute he was putting on his turn signal, and the next a young blonde woman was sprawled out on the road in front of his car. “I mean…well, yeah, she was on the crosswalk.”

“Then she had the right of way. Pedestrians always have the right of way, genius.”

“I’m hanging up now,” he muttered, disconnecting the call to the sound of Revali’s raucous laughter in the background. His near equal on the university archery team, Revali and Link were self-proclaimed rivals; well-known ‘frenemies’ to the rest of their teammates. While Link undeniably respected him for his skill, he could also be a real pain in the ass.

Releasing a weighty sigh, he faced the counter again, only to be met with a piercing glare of disapproval from the woman standing behind it. His blood ran cold as he and Alma locked eyes, hers narrowed in wordless acknowledgment of his sin. Approaching the register, Link flipped his wallet open and removed his credit card before sliding it toward her across the grey acrylic.

“Ring up the seal.”

-

The ride up the elevator was gruelingly slow, the jarring ding! of the door opening on what seemed like every damned floor made Link’s head throb. The air inside the garishly carpeted box was stuffy and stagnant, the scent of antiseptic stinging his lungs with each inhale. He looked down at the overpriced stuffed animal in his arms and frowned, its judgmental button eyes boring into him. The sluggish chug of the ancient machinery as it whined to a stop was nauseating, jostling him just enough to make him dizzy.

He finally stepped off and onto the tenth floor, referring to the clumsy, smeared numbers written on his palm in red pen. Link wandered down a white linoleum hallway, the idle hum of incandescent lights buzzing overhead as he peered at room numbers; the water in the vase sloshed softly as he went. With the plush tucked under one arm and the flowers cradled in the other, he raised his fist to knock tentatively on a door marked 1003.  

“Come in,” responded a quiet voice from the other side. Link instinctively held his breath as he pressed down on the door handle, inching it open.

The room was cold and clinical, painted and furnished in subtle greens and dull blues. Aside from several dim wall sconces, a large westward-facing window adorned with heavy curtains was the only source of light. Pushed up against the center of the back wall was a slim hospital bed, and in it sat a woman that Link had seen only once before—unconscious on the asphalt in front of his sedan. Her eyes flickered up toward him as he entered, darkening with realization mere seconds afterward.

“What are you doing here?”

Link froze, his thoughts scrambling as both his legs and tongue refused to move. All he could do was stare at her, eyes trained on the clunky, neon-green cast that enveloped her left arm. A purply-green bruise around the size of golf ball sat just below one of her eyes, swallowing the tiny freckles that peppered her cheeks. Her bottom lip puffed out, an angry cut splitting it vertically down the middle.

She looked awful.

And she had somehow managed to be strikingly beautiful at the exact same time.

“Well, I came to, uh,” he started, his words leaving his mouth before he had time to appropriately process them, “I came to see…how you were feeling.”

The young woman scoffed, turning her head towards the window. It was then that Link noticed the sutures running along the underside of her collarbone. Guilt roiled in his stomach for the millionth time that day as she began to speak.

“Let’s see; I’ve got bruised ribs, a couple of chipped teeth, and a concussion. Oh—and my arm is broken,” she replied in a biting tone, “So, I’m not great. Thanks.”

After a moment, he took a few tentative steps nearer to her bedside. He watched her gaze gradually slide in his direction, meticulously studying his movement. Link sighed, looking down at his feet with a shake of his head. His chest felt suffocatingly tight, as though someone had his lungs trapped in an ever-tightening vise.

“Look, I know that nothing I say right now is going to make any of this less shitty,” he told her, “and I’m sure that I’m the last person that you wanted to see today. That being said, it would’ve been even shittier of me to not at least try and come apologize to you. Because I messed up, big time, and I’m really, really sorry.”

The young woman said nothing in response, absentmindedly picking at her fingernails as she considered his repentant declaration. Her brows knitted above her sea-like eyes, consternation marring her delicate features. Link’s resolve just about shattered when he saw the impending tears brimming at her waterline.

“And I brought you this seal,” he blurted out, placing the patchwork creature on the bed near her legs, “You just seemed like, uh…a seal person.”

To Link’s relieved surprise, the corner of her mouth quirked up as she looked at the stuffed animal. Picking it up and setting on her lap, a watery giggle burbled from her chest as tears slid down her cheeks. The chuckle soon morphed into a full-on laugh, a bright, contagious sound that filled the room. Unable to help himself, Link smiled, and was soon laughing with her despite not entirely knowing why.

“It’s cute,” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s really cute. Thank you.”

They smiled through the remnants of their laughter as it faded out, leaving the two in silence again. The setting sun bathed the room in rosy amber and cast fractured, pinkish shadows on the walls. Unsure of what else to do, Link set the bouquet on her curiously empty bedside table. It was then that he paused to take stock of the rest of the room, realizing that it did not resemble what he imagined the hospital room of someone who’d just been hit by a car to look like.

It was devoid of any other flowers save the ones that he had brought, and missing were cards and balloons from well-wishing friends. He furrowed his brow, and his heart sank when the most likely reason for the lack of gifts dawned on him. She must be in Central for school, he thought, and all of her friends and family were wherever home was. Or, even worse—they were around, but couldn’t be bothered to come and pay her a visit. Turning back to face her, he gestured to her plaster-clad arm.

“No one’s signed your cast,” he noted.

She gave him a queer look. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, that’s the thing to do isn’t it? Have your friends write their names on your cast? And put, uh, I don’t know…stickers on it.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never broken an arm before,” she replied, shooting him a sly look. “I haven’t got many friends, either, I guess,” she added under her breath, face falling.

“Do you have a Sharpie?”

“Oh, um, I think I have a few in my backpack. It’s just over there, on that chair. Should be in the little side pocket.”

Link made his way over to a grey pleather armchair and unzipped the pocket in question, reaching inside to pull out several permanent markers. Returning to the bedside, he held them out to the blonde, presenting her with her choice of color; black, red, or blue. She looked up at him from beneath delicate lashes, grinning as she selected the blue one. She extended her arm, and he sat on the edge on the bed as he gingerly braced it with his free hand. After popping the cap off with his teeth, he scrawled his name on the lime-colored cast as gently as possible.

“Link,” she murmured when he’d finished, “I just realized that I didn’t even know your name until now.”

It was true. He knew her name, simply because he’d had to ask for it at the front desk, but they had never been properly introduced. Not surprising, considering the circumstances under which they came to know one another in the first place. He’d never seen her around campus before the other day, leading him to assume that they must not run in the same circles. That had to be the case, because hers was not a face that he would’ve forgotten.

“My name is Zelda,” she said, “Even though you probably know that already.”

“I do,” he admitted, “but it’s nice to officially meet you. Zelda.”

Her eyes crinkled at their corners when he reached out to lightly shake her fingers that poked out of the cast. He stood up from the bed, shooting her a quick smile before crossing the room to return the markers to her bag.

“Thank you for the flowers,” he heard her say from behind him, “Oh, and for my seal.”

“It’s the least I could do, I think,” he responded, “I mean, considering.”

“Still,” Zelda went on, “It was kind of you to come. I just…I appreciate the company. It was getting a bit lonely here.”

Link stilled at that. So, she really was alone. He almost didn’t want to believe that not even her own parents had bothered to stop by, that not a single friend had sent a card. It had to be a mistake; there was no way that such an enchanting person had no one to call on.

“The, uh, food here must not be very good, huh?” He tried.

She cocked a brow at him. “What?”

“Hospital food. It’s notoriously bad,” he clarified, attempting to mentally signal to her that he was, in fact, going somewhere with this. “If you want, I could bring you something. Later, I mean, for dinner. I think I probably owe you that, don’t you?”

It could have been the sunset, but Link swore that a blush darkened her cheeks ever so slightly when she smiled at him, nodding. “That sounds great, actually.”

“Alright, it’s a date, then,” he announced without thinking, wincing immediately afterward, “I mean, uh, sounds like a plan.”

“Here, let me put my number in your phone,” she offered, holding out her good hand. He fished it from his pocket and handed it to her, watching as she tapped in her contact info with her only her index finger. After a short discussion about what kind of food she’d like to have, they said their goodbyes with the promise of seeing one another later that evening. Link closed to door carefully behind him, glancing back into the narrow window to see Zelda admiring her flowers.

He shuffled into the elevator, wedging himself in between a group of nurses and weary-looking man with a fussy toddler on his hip. It was humid and it was loud, and anyone else might have wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed. Link stared at Zelda’s name in his phone as the elevator made its agonizingly long descent back down to the lobby, already counting the minutes until he’d get to ride back up again.

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I adored this prompt so much, I made it its own thing on AO3. Thank you for the ask! This was so much fun!

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date’ is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.