#prescribed speed

[heavenlymusickcorporation]

I have school tomorrow but I'm genuinely considering having a 3 am espresso 🙃

[primrosebitch]

It's kinda ironic that both of my living grandparents are healthier, have more energy, and less aches and pains than I do, and ones in her late 70s and the other late 80s, like when i go shopping with my grandma she's there using her cane a bit and i'm over here with a walker, and i'm still gonna be the one more tired at the end, and then my other grandma doesn't need any mobility aids and can do some SPORTS, i can't even do sports

[dandelionjack]

session with the psychiatrist today and he finalised getting me a s*roquel prescription… upon a google i discovered that one of the most common side effects is supposedly weight gain so now i am actually considering the preferred alternative option of recovery which is k*lling m*self

[wild-at-mind]

Listening to the Search Engine podcast about the history of speed (medical and non-medical), and until this I had no idea Frank Zappa had done an anti-speed PSA where he solemnly proclaims that speed will make you 'just like your mother and father'. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S0KRsh860Pw

[eccedeus]

>be me

>first appointment with British gp

>it's on the phone (of course)

>gp can't prescribe me dexamphetamine, refers me to psychiatrist

>ask about medicine for my cough, tell him about my inhaler

>he says we can't prescribe steroids either

>don't take steroids? But ok

>Google main ingredient of inhaler after phone call

>it's a steroid

>I've been taking a steroid inhaler for years

>still not swole

[bilobatum]

spent the entire session talking to my therapist abt how im being driven up the wall by my focus and executive impediments and talked in complete earnest abt my problems which are pretty much an EXACT list of adhd symptoms and got diagnosed w Perfectionist and told "good luck"

[kyxhiin]

Billy is smoking. And the JL are confused cause who let Marvel have a pack of cigarettes. With the time bubble thing in Fawcett and it being stuck in the 1950s the doctor gave him a pack of cigarettes cause it will help whatever cold or infection he has now. Cause it's healthy!

After a relatively tough fight the JL are tired. Captain however seemed to be the opposite, he's still his usual happy go lucky self cheering up the rest of the League. And it's all going fine and all and they enter the space ship. Everybody's in the control room sighing, and talking. The team's spirit seemed to be lifted up until... Marvel pulls out a pack of cigarettes. But he doesn't seem to be the guy who smokes so casually.

Flash: Woah dude you smoke? Isn't that bad for you? If you even have lungs but dude, I don't judge.

Flash doing a little shrug as Captain lights up the cigarette with electricity.

Captain Marvel: Oh, yeah I do. My doctor prescribed me it, I need to take it hourly.

Flash, along with the other audible confusion of the JL: ..What do you mean your doctor prescribed you it...?

Captain Marvel with a confused glance puffing out smoke:.. Yeah? I don't understand what's wrong with it, the doctor said the smokes gonna cleanse my body or something. People always take a cigar, Mary and Jr have been prescribed it once too?

Flash now with a deadpanned but also a confused expression: What.

Superman: Marvel.. I don't think that's a licensed doctor your seeing.

Captain Marvel tipping the ash onto a coke bottle cap: What? Of course my doctor is. Look Mr. Superman I would think to know to trust a professionals words.

Superman: No, cap. Smokings like really bad, it has nicotine in it and it can cause lung cancer.

Captain Marvel holding the cigarette between his fingers: Oh, you believe in those theories? They've been going around a while now.

Green Lantern: WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEORIES??? THIS IS BASIC KNOWLEDGE????

Captain Marvel now with a chuckle to his speech: Yeah right, nice joke. You should really consider becoming a come-

Flash: DONT STEER THE CONVERSATION?? AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN JR AND MARY HAS BEEN PRESCRIBED THE SAME THING.

The JL are now speed questioning well more like interrogating Captain. Batman now scheduled a visit to Fawcett to see what the hell is going on in there.

[yolelejiju]

Satoru’s favorite toy

This was influenced by a request I received. It’s not been checked so will probably have grammatical errors here and there.

TW: stepcest, pseudo incest, noncon, somno, choking, non consensual recording

Don’t like, don’t interact,

StepBro! Satoru who leans he’s soon going to be having a new sister after his father remarries the mistress who shattered his family

StepBro! Satoru who seethes at the thought of having to share with some sluts bastard child

StepBro! Satoru who builds up resentment towards you before meeting you just to have it all disappear upon meeting you in person

StepBro! Satoru who no longer resents his father for remarrying but is grateful for him bringing home a new toy

StepBro! Satoru who offers to help set up your new bedroom but instead is hides hidden cameras in multiple areas of your room.

Clueless you who would never think that the smoke detector on your ceiling could be anything insidious nor do you ever question the plugs on your walls, sure they look slightly different from the ones in the common areas but you pay it no mind.

Clueless you who thinks locking your door grants you the privacy to undress or the privacy to slide your hand between your legs and rub circles on your clit while muffling your cute whimpers.

StepBro! Satoru who goes through the footage of you in your room every night, his right hand on the mouse and his left gripping his hard cock

He takes screenshots of your body, sharing them with his friend Suguru, showing off that he got a “hot stepsis” and sleezy Suguru who just loves to get off to naive cute girls like yourself, hoping he gets a turn after Satoru gets his hands on you

It wasn’t much longer before he did get his hands on you. It was during the winter, your parents left for vacation and to Satoru’s convenience, you got sick and had to stay home in bed whilst he was left to care for you.

He made sure you got all the supplements and medicine prescribed and then some. Maybe he did add a sleeping pill into the mix every now and then. Maybe he did take advantage of your unconscious figure each time you passed out.

He would take your limp hand into his and stroke his hard leaking girth with it. Chills crawled up his spine as he felt your soft fingers graze the veins decorating his shaft. He wrapped his hand around yours, and begin stroking himself with a tight grip.

While your breathing remained slow and even paced his started to speed up, the excitement of his hot sister touching his cock turned him in so much but the smug pride he feels for taking advantage of your unconscious form is what’s making his eyes roll back.

As his hips begin to pick up speed he began to pant and worry less about remaining quiet. What does it matter if you wake, you can’t beat him, especially not in your current state. You were so sick you could barely feed yourself. You probably got sick on purpose, desperate for your big brother Satoru’s attention.

Sure he could have any girl he wanted but all he wanted right now is to conquer you.

He grew sick of using your hand and wanted something more, something wet, something tight. He dropped your hand and it limply fell, hanging off the side of the bed, letting the cool night air dry off the precum that dripped down the palm of your hand.

The bed started to sink as he began to crawl on top of you. His legs straddling your weak body as you foolishly slept without a clue of the danger you were in.

He hunched his body forward and pushed his lips against yours, his tongue grazing your bottom lip before sitting back up onto his haunches and scooting further up your body. At this point his legs were on either side of your shoulders, he caressed your face, dragging his hand from your temple to yours chin, gently pulling your mouth open. He slid just the tip of his length between your lips, enjoying the sensation of your tongue instinctively rubbing itself against his mushroom head.

He began to tilt his hips further as more and more of his length slid into your mouth. When he felt his dick hit the back of your throat he heard you gag, and briefly worried about you waking up. But all you did was twist up your face and continue to sleep. So he felt more comfortable to push himself further and deeper. Once he was so deep he could feel your throat grip his cock as it tried to dislodge the obstruction. You started to gag more but he kept slowly rocking his hips back and forth barely giving you time to breathe.

Your lashes began to flutter as your eyes struggled to open, unable to process whats in front of them. You don’t quite know it yet but what you’re staring at is your step brothers lower abdomen, what you feel tickling your nose is his bluntly shaved pubic hair brushing against your upper lip and nose every time he thrust forward.

Your struggle to breathe jolts you awake, and you immediately grip at his thighs to stop him from moving, but your sleepy weak body is no match for him, satoru is too lost chasing his own orgasm to care that you’re awake, to care that he might be hurting you, ignoring your hands squeezing against his thighs he simply interlocks his fingers in the back of your head and holds you in place so he can continue abusing your throat over and over again. Every time you tries to scream your voice would cause vibrations along his length sending him over the edge.

He tightly gripped your hair and pushed your face against his pelvis as he pumped load after load down your throat. With his dick shoved so far down your throat you had no choice but to swallow it all like the good girl you are.

When he climbed from on top of you, your lungs immediately fought to get back the air they lost. You heaved and coughed regurgitating some of his several loads of cum before you were able to breathe normal again.

By the time you came to, Satoru was long gone from your room, you struggled to process all that happened to you before inevitably falling back to sleep.

[ozzgin]

Sorry to bother you, but the bodyguard post you did was just 🤤🥰😍 and I can't stop thinking about it day later

Have you ever seen Oshi no Ko? I'd love to see Bodyguard react to someone trying to do something similar as what happened to Ai.

Fans get wind their beloved idol might have feeling for her staff, so a crazed fan tracks down her private address. He plans to get revenge for "His idol cheating on him" but doesn't know there is a guard dog inside ready to bite any threat to his precious charge.

Sorry to keep ragging on about the topic, I just adore you work enough that it lives in my head rent free.

Happy holidays

-🌟

I sadly haven't seen Oshi no Ko, but your description sounds very interesting. Thank you for the idea! I've combined it with your previous suggestion, I think they work together really well. Happy Holidays to you, too! :)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (II)

Your new manager has sent you home for the holidays after persistent rumors surrounding you and your bodyguard. And, as luck would have it, the fan responsible for the accusations successfully sneaks his way in. Sadly for him, you’ve never left the watchful gaze of your loyal, mean dog.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

content: female reader, violence, threats, mentions of stalking

(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)

"Enjoy your holidays!" 

The driver cheerfully bids you goodbye and speeds away, leaving you behind the imposing gate. You drag your luggage inside and nonchalantly toss it with an annoyed huff.

What now? You're all alone in a hollow mansion. 

Early December you begun receiving worrying letters from a fan, making wild claims about you and your bodyguard. Naturally, you laughed it off. Your bodyguard found them equally amusing. So much, that he'd ask you to read them out loud as you rode him. "I w-won't stand for it. You know we ha-ave something special going on, (Y/N)-chan." You barely managed to form coherent sentences, feverishly clinging to the large man underneath you. "You heard the guy. Better be on your best behavior", he'd add with a chuckle, wiping the drool from your mouth. 

The new manager, however, wasn't as relaxed about it. He couldn't risk tarnishing the reputation of his beloved cash cow, so he suggested you take a break from personal assistants until the rumors tone down. If you remained within your expensively secured house, you wouldn't need any guarding. So, he caringly prescribed a dose of homely isolation for the upcoming holidays. 

"Don't be so dramatic", he said, "Jesus spent 40 days in the desert by himself. And he didn't have your indoor cinema or jacuzzi bathtub."

"Yeah, but he had the Devil to tempt him. Where's my bad guy?" You whined as a retort. 

You let out another groan and throw yourself on the couch, fiddling with the remote. Kind of them to decorate everything for Christmas, you think as you eye the gigantic kitsch of a tree slapped in the middle of the living room. 

Fuck. What an absolute waste of time. All because of one crazy fan. You almost wish he'd show his stupid face so your bodyguard could pummel it to bits and crumbles. You wonder what he's doing by himself. Is he going to be assigned to another idol? Probably not, two weeks is too short of a time for anything. You check your phone.

Suddenly, the screen lights up. A text notification. 

"Bored?"

Heh. It's almost as if he can read your mind. You smile to yourself and type your response, stretching onto the sofa. Your little back and forth messaging goes on until you look up and notice the room has gotten darker. Already evening. You can hear your stomach growl, so you get up and drag your feet towards the kitchen, searching for takeaway fliers. If you're going to be under house arrest, the least you can afford is junk food. 

Once you place your decadent order, you hop onto the counter and idly dangle your legs in anticipation. Your favorite off-duty guard dog has abruptly told you he needs to go and is now offline. "Something came up". What could possibly require his immediate attention? A mistress? You giggle at the idea. In all your time spent together, you haven't seen him glance at a single woman. If he must, he will engage with other people using one-word replies, visibly uninterested. You never considered him much of a talker, but his behavior with anyone else, in comparison, is downright hostile. 

There's a rustling sound and you jolt. Was the food delivered already? It hasn't been that long. You jump off the marble countertop and freeze in place once you see the man standing in the doorway. His face is concealed with a medical mask and he's audibly panting, the hot air fogging up his glasses. You notice the knife in his hand.

"How rude of you to cheat on me so shamelessly, (Y/N) dear."

Huh? Your eyes widen in realization. Was this the crazed fan bombarding you with threatening letters? Your features twist in utter disgust, still transfixed on the weapon within his grip. 

This little shit. Not only does he break into your home, but he decides to intimidate you with a department store kitchen utensil. Is that all you're worth? Is that any way to greet one of the top idols in this country?

You angrily pull the nearby drawer open and grab a long, sharp blade. The man tenses up and steps forward, but you stop him in his tracks, throwing the item at his feet. He stares at you, bewildered. 

"It's a Yoshihiro Sashimi knife. More than your monthly income, most likely." You state as you leer down at him, grimace plastered on your face. "Pick it up like the animal you are."

He cannot move. Is this his beloved (Y/N)? Her pretty, innocent smile and sparkling eyes have been replaced by this hateful scowl. He feels like a cockroach about to be stepped on, a mere vermin invading her personal space. This can't be right. It's him that should be upset, he's the betrayed party. When has she gotten so...Ah. This must be the work of that bodyguard. He's always known. The way he looks at her, with a predatory glint as if marking his territory. He should've noticed earlier. Poor, sweet (Y/N), at the hands of a brute. Tears form in his eyes and he opens his mouth to speak up, but a burning blow assaults his back and everything goes black. 

Your bodyguard casually walks in and lifts the intruder up by the nape of his neck. 

"Are you okay? Did he touch you?"

You blush and wipe your eyelashes dramatically, releasing a gentle sob from your puckered lips.

"Touch? He almost killed me! I was so scared...I thought I was done for."

He frowns at your words.

"I'll take care of it."

You can feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach. As he drags the body out of the kitchen, you follow behind enthusiastically. 

"Do it in the living room!" You almost squeal.

"Are you sure? It will get messy. I'm not letting this one walk out." He warns you with a worried expression. 

"Yes, yes!" you nod, all bubbly. "Right here, next to the Christmas tree."

Once the gory spectacle is over, the bodyguard sprawls onto the sofa, exhausted. He exhales loudly and runs a hand through his hair. You are about to join him, when a thought crosses your mind. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you know I was about to be attacked? That was some really extraordinary timing."

Out of reflex, he palms his pocket to check if his phone is still within his possession. Thankfully he hasn't left it in plain sight. You squint suspiciously. 

"Are you spying on me or something?"

He remains quiet for a few moments and eventually lowers his head apologetically, avoiding eye contact.

"Forgive me, Miss."

When he glances up again, your small figure is looming over him.

"Wow, what a pervert you are." You push his chin up with your dainty fingers. "How will you make it up to me for such nasty habit~?"

"Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Good boy."

[princessmaybank]

Sick Day With Mommy

Pairings: Sick!Boyfriend!JJ x Fem!Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Handjob, Spit, Blowjob, Mommy kink, etc.

Summary: JJ is sick and can only think of one remedy.

Author's Note: It's been a while, here's a quickie 😘

"Oh my poor baby, how can I help?" I ask sitting next to my boyfriend who is currently groaning in bed. I reached my hand up to touch his chest for comfort and he placed his on top of mine. "I don't knowww." JJ whined. "I'm sorry Jay..here I'll go make you something to eat." I smile and stand up before he pulls me back down. "Nooo I want you princess.." He whined again. I lightly giggle to myself and hug him. "You need to eat baby." I say trying to convince him. He shakes his head 'no' before telling me he's not hungry.

I sit there holding him for a little bit longer before trying to stand again. JJ pulled me back down so he was holding me again. "Baby, please just let me go make you some food." He nods lightly and loosens his grip on me.

I walk to the kitchen and start preparing a homemade chicken noodle soup for him. While I wait I grab the thermometer and head back to his room.

"Here put this in your mouth." I push the thermometer close to his mouth. "That's normally my line princess." He chuckles and I roll my eyes before shoving it under his tongue.

"101.2, Jay you need to go to the doctor." I say calmly but it just makes JJ's eyes go wide. "No! No doctors!" He shouts. "Easy Jay..but you need to get checked out." I sit next to him and rub his thigh gently. "You can check me out all you want, don't need a doctor f'that!" He teased causing me to roll my eyes again. "Plus my last doctor told me that sex is the best medicine-" I cut him off with laughter. "Is your doctor cousin Ricky?" Before heading out I kiss his forehead. "He's the best! He'd prescribe weed and beer too!" He shouts as I walk into the kitchen.

When I come back with his soup, he is half asleep on his phone, scrolling through Tiktok. "Baby, sit up you need to eat." I say kindly, setting his food down next to him. "You sitting on my face, doesn't require sitting up. Actually it would be easier if I laid down." He shimmied down a bit more. "Your throne m'lady." JJ points to his face. Once again my eyes roll back.

"If I suck your dick will you shut up and eat your soup?" I've never seen his eyes glimmer so fast. Shaking his head with a violent yes, he sat up just enough for me.

I sink down between his legs then pull down his pajama pants and his boxers as well. He springs free from the fabric that was holding him back for so long. His hard cock was dripping as he throbbed under my gaze. "Don't just stare it baby, please fuckin' touch me." He says through shaky breaths, watching my every movement.

My hand moves to my mouth and I gather my spit into my hand before reaching out to stroke him with it. The pumps are painfully slow at first, even I can admit that, but he seemed to be enjoying himself.

"F-Fuck baby...speed it up please.." I hear him whine above me. If he wasn't sick right now, I would act like a brat, but I guess he gets a pass today. My hand starts speeding up its pace. I spit on his cock to lather it more in my saliva so my hand can glide easier.

For a moment I look at JJ and our eyes meet. He's so gorgeous with his jaw dropped, head hanging back, and sweat on his brow. "Oh shit baby- don't look at me like that." He says, not breaking eye contact. "Like what Jay?" I keep my eyes on him as my tongue pokes out just enough to lick his tip.

JJ's head tips back and his eyes close as I wrap my soft lips around his pretty pink tip. I relax my throat before I take him all the way down. "Mmm" A moan spilled from my lips, vibrating his cock. "Oh p-please mo-mommy don't stop-" He whimpered. Jay had never called me that before. It was new and enough to excite me. I needed to hear it more.

JJ's wish was my command, so I picked up my pace and never stopped. His tip was nearly gagging me but I knew I could take it. Jay's hand reached down and wrapped into my hair, tugging as hard as he could. "Y-yes mommy- oh mo-mommy just like that-" He whined. His eyes look to mine for a moment before tossing his head back. "You're so h-hot m-mommy- p-please let me cum- I'll be a good boy- I'll eat the soup- please let me cum!" He begged and it was the most beautiful sentence I have ever heard.

"Cum for mommy baby, you can do it-" I encouraged. His hips jerked as he clawed at my arm with one hand. "Fuck- fuck-fuck fuck mommy!" He screamed as his cum shot down my throat.

After I clean up I come back and sit with him. "That was the best blowie I've ever had- thank you baby." JJ panted. I smiled at him and let him calm down before feeding him his soup.

"Yeah this is delicious baby- but I still think you'd taste better-" He laughed. I shake my head no and giggle. "Let's get that fever down and I'll do all the face sitting you want."

And just like that JJ was so excited to do anything to feel better faster.

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

collapse. ( robert chase x reader )

gif belongs to me

You knew he would be working late and when he finally came home, you were fast asleep upstairs in bed. Chase took a shower to ease the tension in his shoulders and wash the painfully long day away. He got dressed for bed and took off his watch as he approached his side of the bed. He used his phone as a light source to avoid waking you up, and his brow furrowed when he saw a white card on the bedside table.

He lifted it up, using his phone to read it. "See you soon, daddy."

He noticed the pregnancy test and picked it up, a smile lighting up his features when he saw it was positive.

You were awoken by kisses to your cheek and hair and smiled as you turned to meet your husband's gaze, smiling against his lips when he kissed you.

"I love you." He murmured.

"I love you too." You smiled softly when he placed a hand on your waist, his thumb grazing your stomach as he reignited the kiss. It would be several weeks before you would begin to show, but he couldn't stop touching it since he found the positive test, imagining the perfect blend of both of you growing inside you.

He always monitored your symptoms and prescribed medication to help with the morning sickness, but you suffered from strange dreams and felt dizzy throughout the day. When your mother offered to stop by more regularly, you agreed, knowing it would put his mind at ease. However, you found it overwhelming most of the time, and the meals she cooked diverted from what your husband recommended to keep a strong, healthy diet but you kept quiet, knowing Chase would drop everything and come home if he knew there were problems.

After checking on their latest patient, Chase entered the briefing room when Taub called out to him. His eyebrows furrowed as he explained that you were brought into the hospital after collapsing at home.

He couldn't believe it. Over an hour ago, he checked in, and you spoke on the phone during his lunch break, seeming to be in good spirits.

Taub told him the room number, and Chase took the elevator to the floor, his heart hammering in his chest as he squeezed inside, and jogged down the hallway as he narrowly avoided bumping into anyone. You were sitting in bed when he entered and turned your head when he exhaled in relief.

You sent him a smile as he approached the bed, taking your hand and squeezing it.

"I came as soon as I heard." He leaned down to kiss your forehead, and you closed your eyes as he lingered. "What happened?"

"I was reading on the sofa. Then I stood up because, you know, pregnant woman's bladder, and the next thing I know, I'm in an ambulance."

Chase walked to the foot of the bed, picking up the chart. Your mother returned with coffee, and he mumbled as he returned her greeting.

"They've ordered several tests." His brow furrowed pensively. "How were you feeling before you collapsed?"

"A little shaky."

You glanced at your mother when she said, "The other doctor already asked dozens of questions."

You bit inside of your cheek when you noticed your husband's jaw tighten. For the past eight and a half months, your mother had been making subtle and not-so-subtle remarks about the long hours he spent at the hospital working and that he should find another job now that you were having a baby. But you knew Chase needed a challenge, and working at the hospital was where his expertise was needed most.

"I'm just ruling out possibilities." He set the chart down, walking over to you. "How are you feeling now?"

"Tired."

Chase smiled softly, placing a hand on your cheek, "Your heartbeat is abnormal. Do you still feel dizzy?"

You nodded, and his smile faltered slightly. "But apart from that, I feel fine." You quickly attempted to reassure him.

"Why don't you get some rest?" He suggested. "The tests can take a while. I'll head to the lab and speed things along. And then I'll be right back, alright?"

You nodded with a smile, placing a hand over his that rested on your cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too." He leaned in to kiss you tenderly and pulled away to help make you comfortable as you lay down.

You watched him leave the room before closing your eyes, deciding that sleep was better than listening to more of your mother's unwanted advice.

However, a short while later, you were woken by raised voices.

"You were supposed to help. Not starve her."

You glanced at Chase, then looked at your mother, who had earned his ire.

"Just because she's pregnant doesn't mean she has to overeat. After the birth, she will want to be thin again."

"What's going on?" You spoke up.

Chase turned to you as you sat up, placing the pillow at the small of your back. "Were you aware your mother was giving you smaller portions?"

You ran a hand over your bump. "I thought I was always hungry."

Chase shook his head, "You collapsed because your blood sugar is low. It explains all the symptoms." He turned to your mother, "She needs a hearty diet to keep her weight up and to give enough nutrition to the baby. She could've gone into shock. The fall on its own can cause damage. What if she was walking downstairs?"

"I think you should go."

Your mother met your gaze, shaking her head before picking up her bag and jacket as she left. You exhaled shakily, running a hand over your forehead.

"If I'd have known...she kept saying I needed to keep working out." You met your husband's gaze worriedly, "Is everything okay w-with -"

Chase approached the bed, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Everything is fine. But we need to get your blood sugar back up to normal levels. Which is why..." He reached into his back pocket, and you smiled softly when you saw your favorite candy. "I've spoken to the doctor, and you'll be kept in overnight for monitoring."

You sighed as he sat next to you. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I know how pushy she can be. Although I didn't think she'd sink this far." He took your hand, and you smiled when he squeezed it. "I'm just glad you're alright."

You placed a hand on his cheek, smiling as you kissed for a few moments before moving over to make space for him to sit beside you. He put his arm around your shoulders and kissed your head as you opened the candy, sharing it as he filled you in on the team's latest patient.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Freewriting

Freewriting - the practice of writing without a prescribed structure, which means no outlines, cards, notes, or editorial oversight.

In freewriting, the writer follows the impulses of their own mind, allowing thoughts and inspiration to appear to them without premeditation.

Benefits of Freewriting

CREATIVE EXPRESSION

Many writers embrace freewriting as a way to find unexpected inspiration.

Outlines and notes can be wonderful for the purpose of staying on task, but they can sometimes stifle the creativity that comes from free association.

This is where freewriting comes in.

By starting with a rough idea, but without pre-planned details, a writer opens themself up to discovery and new found inspiration.

WRITER'S BLOCK

Writers who feel in a style rut, or who actively experience writer’s block, may benefit from a freewriting exercise as part of their formal writing process.

By forcing themselves to put words on a page, a writer may be able to alleviate their anxiety about writing and allow them to be more creative.

SPEED

Freewriting is typically faster than other forms of draft writing or outlining.

Because you are simply writing without a strict form to follow and without organizing your thoughts.

5 Tips and Techniques for Freewriting

JUST WRITE

Any writing coach or writing teacher will tell you that you must segregate your writing process from your editing process.

When it comes to freewriting, first drafts are repositories for every idea that comes to mind, however vague or tangential.

Don’t worry about word count, don’t worry about market viability, don’t worry about sentence structure, don’t even worry about spelling.

Unleash your creativity, let the ideas flow, and trust that there will be time for editing later.

This rule applies whether you wish to write a novel, a play, a short story, or a poem.

GATHER TOPICS BEFOREHAND

Freewriting doesn’t mean you write without having an idea about your topic/story.

Even the most committed freewriters tend to have some degree of a prewriting technique - they ruminate on their subject matter in a broad, general sense.

You don’t have to pre-plan details before you start writing, but it helps to know in the broadest sense what it is you think you’ll write about.

TIME YOURSELF

If you are experiencing writer’s block, commit to getting words down on the page within the first 60 seconds of writing.

Perhaps those first words will not yield anything, but think of them metaphorically as the first drops you put into the five gallon bucket that is your novel.

There is nothing to be gained by staring at a page or computer screen for any great period of time.

COMBINE FREEWRITING WITH TRADITIONAL OUTLINES OR NOTES

While it can be quite satisfying to say that one wrote an entire novel using freewriting techniques (as Jack Kerouac is said to have done with On the Road) what readers care about most is the quality of your writing.

With this in mind, start a project with a substantive freewriting session.

Depending on what you produce, you may want to use that content as fodder for a formal process that more closely conforms to the traditional rules of writing (outlines, notes, etc.).

Let that outline or set of notes guide the remainder of your writing on the project.

Remember, too, that you can always toggle back to freewriting at any point.

BRING IDEAS TO YOUR SESSIONS

Some writers, particularly poets, begin sessions with no ideas or themes they plan to tackle—they simply begin writing with the first word or phrase that comes to mind, and then they let the process unfold from there.

While you can work toward this point, if you’re new to the medium of writing and are seeking to unleash the writer within, plan your freewriting sessions when you have a strong idea of your story or theme.

The most effective writing has thematic or narrative consistency, and starting with a small germ of an idea may help you achieve that consistency.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[theemporium]

i’m so happy you’re in a mauraders mood bc so am i and your content is fulfilling all of my needs ty ty!!!

with that, thoughts on james getting hurt at quidditch and reader comes in to check on him? drugged up jamie confesses love to reader?? something?! idk this is is why you’re the writer and not me lol

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

It was a nasty fall.

You knew quidditch could be quite a rough sport and you knew every player got hurt at some point. Thankfully, most of the injuries that came out of the games could be easily healed and the players would be back in class the next day, resting up before their next game. It was very rare for anything worse than some bedrest and easy days to be prescribed to an injured quidditch player. 

But that didn’t settle the pit of worry in your stomach when you watched James fall. Between the speed and angle he fell at, and the fact the game had to halt for thirty minutes before they could move him off the pitch, it didn’t help that none of you were allowed to see him until a whole two hours after his accident. 

However, the second you received permission from McGonagall, you had quickly joined the others in rushing down to the infirmary wing to see how James was doing. What you weren’t expecting was to find a very loopy James in place of the boy you knew. 

“HEY, IT’S MY FRIENDS!” 

A slightly irritated Madam Pomfrey tried hushing the boy but it was useless as he tried to sit up in his bed by himself—an act that was difficult with the sling confining his right arm—as you all surrounded the bed he was situated in. 

“How you feeling, mate? You took quite the tumble out there,” Sirius asked, watching with some amusement as the bespectacled boy grinned lazily at the group. 

“I feel fine—great, even!” James insisted, letting out a giggle. “I feel fucking fantastic, Pads! You should try some of this stuff!”

Sirius snorted. “Maybe next time.” 

“You too, Moony,” James continued as his eyes searched over the group. “And you, Evans. And don’t think you can hide from me, Mary! And—oh.”

His loud and eccentric movements came to a halt as his eyes fell on you, his lips parting. The only sign you had that he was still alive was the slow blinks as he stared at you, his cheeks flushed and your concern peaked at the idea of him suddenly gaining a fever.

“James?” you called out, your brows furrowed together when he didn’t answer. “Are you feeling okay? Do we need to get Madam Pomfrey again?” 

“Moony,” James finally whispered, still staring at you like he was lost in a daze. 

“Yeah, bud?” Remus was soon by his side, frowning a little in concern as the boy reached out to grip his arm. 

“I can see an angel,” James whispered and Sirius had to cover his mouth to muffle his laughs. “Can you see her?” 

“Uh, what?” Remus muttered in confusion.

“An angel!” he insisted as he pointed in your direction. “Look at her! She is gorgeous, Moony! One of the prettiest fucking girls I’ve ever seen!” 

Your cheeks burned as you pressed your lips together to try and contain your grin. 

“That’s not an angel, Prongs,” Remus told him, now quite amused as he gently patted his friend on the back. “She’s your friend.” 

James whirled his head around. “I’m friends with an angel?” 

“I—” Remus sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, buddy, you are.” 

“Woah,” James murmured as he turned to look back at you. “You make my chest feel funny.” 

You frowned a little. “Funny? Maybe we should—” 

“Like my heart is going boom-da-boom really fast,” James continued, nodding his head. “I like that it does that for you.” 

“Oh,” was all you could say. 

“Who would have thought it would take a bunch of painkillers for Prongs to finally admit how he feels?” Sirius commented from the other side of his bed, grinning widely as his friend stared lovingly at you. 

“Shut up, Sirius,” you murmured, slightly shy.

“He’s in love with you, sweetheart,” Sirius told you in a know-it-all voice.

“No, he doesn’t, he just—”

“Yes, I am,” James interrupted, nodding his head in confirmation. “Like, love love. The good kinda love. The one where I get to kiss you and stuff.”

You tried to tamper down the butterflies in your stomach. “Kiss me and stuff?” 

“All the stuff,” James murmured, yawning slightly as the painkillers started to really kick in. 

“How about you tell me this when you’re not high and we will see where we go,” you muttered, smiling softly as you watched him try to fight the strong urge to sleep. 

“Promise you’ll be here when I wake up?” James murmured, reaching his hand out to you. 

You took his hand and intertwined your fingers. “Promise. Goodnight, James.” 

“Goodnight, Angel.”

.

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam, could you please recommend any resources/websites to learn about ADHD medication? Until reading your post about second-line meds I thought Adderal was the only one

I can definitely talk about it a little! Always bearing in mind that I am not a doctor and this is not medical advice, etc. etc.

So, I've had many friends with ADHD in my life before I got my diagnosis and I picked up some stuff from them even before getting diagnosed; I also spoke with my prescribing psychiatrist about options when we met. If you think your psychiatrist might be resistant to discussing options, or you don't have one, doing your own research is good, but it's not really a substitute for a specialist in medication management. So it's also important to know what your needs are -- ie, "I want help with my executive function but I need something that's nonaddictive" or "I want something nonsedative" or "I don't think the treatment I'm on is working, what is available outside of this kind of medication?"

The problems you run into with researching medication for ADHD are threefold:

Most well-informed sources aren't actually geared towards non-doctor adults who just want to know what their options are -- they're usually either doctors who don't know how to talk about medication to non-doctors, or doctors (and parents) talking to parents about pediatric options.

A huge number of sites when you google are either AI-generated, covert ads for stimulant addiction rehab, or both.

Reliable sites with easy-to-understand information are not updated super often.

So you just kind of have to be really alert and read the "page" itself for context clues -- is it a science journal, is it an organization that helps people with ADHD, is it a doctor, is it a rehab clinic, is it a drug advertiser, is it a random site with a weird URL that's probably AI generated, etc.

So for example, ADDitude Magazine, which is kind of the pre-eminent clearinghouse for non-scholarly information on ADHD, is a great place to start, but when the research is clearly outlined it sometimes isn't up-to-date, and when it's up-to-date it's often a little impenetrable. They have an extensive library of podcast/webinars, and I started this particular research with this one, but his slides aren't super well-organized, he flips back and forth between chemical and brand name, and he doesn't always designate which is which. However, he does have a couple of slides that list off a bunch of medications, so I just put those into a spreadsheet, gleaned what I could from him, and then searched each medication. I did find a pretty good chart at WebMD that at least gives you the types and brand names fairly visibly. (Fwiw with the webinar, I definitely spent more time skimming the transcript than listening to him, auto transcription isn't GOOD but it is helpful in speeding through stuff like that.)

I think, functionally, there are four types of meds for ADHD, and the more popular ones often have several variations. Sometimes this is just for dosage purposes -- like, if you have trouble swallowing pills there are some meds that come in liquids or patches, so it's useful to learn the chemical name rather than the brand name, because then you can identify several "brands" that all use the same chemical and start to differentiate between them.

Top of the list you have your methylphenidate and your amphetamine, those are the two types of stimulant medications; the most well known brand names for these are Ritalin (methylphenidate) and Adderall (amphetamine).

Then there's the nonstimulant medications, SNRIs (Strattera, for example) and Alpha-2 Agonists (guanfacine and clonidine, brand names Kapvay and Intuniv; I'm looking at these for a second-line medication). There's some crossover between these and the next category:

Antidepressants are sometimes helpful with ADHD symptoms as well as being helpful for depression; I haven't looked at these much because for me they feel like the nuclear option, but it's Dopamine reuptake inhibitors like Wellbutrin and tricyclics like Tofranil. If you're researching these you don't need to look at like, every antidepressant ever, just look for ones that are specifically mentioned in context with ADHD.

Lastly there are what I call the Offlabels -- medications that we understand to have an impact on ADHD for some people, but which aren't generally prescribed very often, and sometimes aren't approved for use. I don't know much about these, either, because they tend to be for complex cases that don't respond to the usual scrips and are particularly difficult to research. The one I have in my notes is memantine (brand name Namenda) which is primarily a dementia medication that has shown to be particularly helpful for social cognition in people with combined Autism/ADHD.

So yeah -- hopefully that's a start for you, but as with everything online, don't take my word for it -- I'm also a lay person and may get stuff wrong, so this is just what I've found and kept in my notes. Your best bet truly is to find a psychiatrist specializing in ADHD medication management and discuss your options with them. Good luck!

[nyoomerr]

Just months before the Immortal Alliance Conference, Luo Binghe discovers the cure to Without-a-Cure. With his own heritage still sealed and mostly unknown to him, there seems to be only one solution: Shen Qingqiu must receive the cure from the last known Heavenly Demon, Tianlang-Jun, even if it means that Luo Binghe has to grit his teeth and set his precious Shizun up with another man. Shen Qingqiu does not want to receive the cure from Tianlang-Jun. He doesn't particularly want to receive anything from Tianlang-Jun. Shen Qingqiu somehow ends up fake-dating Tianlang-Jun anyway, if only to swindle the System into delaying the Endless Abyss plot for as long as he can.

🌹 bingqiu 🌹 no-abyss AU, misunderstandings, light-hearted 🌹 lbh tries to get his shizun medicinally laid 🌹 65k, 5/5 chapters, complete!

the final bit of my Fandom Trumps Hate fic went up last night - i hope that it can provide a moment of distraction and buoyed spirits to those who need it.

as always, thank you to everyone who's been reading along, and an extra big thank you to the incredible @mock-speed for being the reason this fic exists :>

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 1)

Word Count - 3k 

Summary - Doc (y/n) is a medic at a base camp when they meet Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley, when they meet for a second time it is because he’s been injured. During the two weeks it takes him to fully recover they develop an unspoken friendship. Simon’s next assignment is to escort a convoy across enemy lines, which would have been a walk in the park if they weren’t a part of that convoy. Even worse is when his worries and fears become real. 

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Trauma, Opioids (they’re prescribed but i just want to add this in case), Slow Burn, Eventual Smut  

A/N -  im working on part 2 rn but it may take a little time for me to finish and upload but im in the middle of finals and have been busy with studying so please forgive me  

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The first time Ghost came through your tent he was bringing in his comrade, Soap, for medical attention. It was a gunshot to the arm but nothing detrimental. A clean shot and the bullet had gone right through.

Ghost had remained quiet and observant but answered any questions you had about the wound. 

“When did this happen?” 

“Half an hour ago. Give or take.”  

“Any meds?” 

“Shot of adrenalin.” 

You had sewen up the gunshot and nursed Soap back to health. However, Mr.MacTavish had been a difficult patient and after a week you discharged him early just to get him out of your hair. On multiple occasions you caught him trying to escape, claiming he was fine and ready for combat at least once a day. Most special ops were deluded like that, most thought they were superhumans. In a way, they kind of were with the speed at which they recovered. You would never tell them that. It would just go to their head.   

Your tent has since been upgraded to a deployable field hospital. With a total of 50 beds and 15 staff members. 

The second time Ghost made his way your way was on a stretcher. It was a deep and disturbing stab wound to his side, and if it were even an inch deeper it would have punctured his lung. It took you the whole two weeks he needed for recovery to get the full story out of him. Apparently, it was a series of unfortunate events which resulted in a hand-to-hand scrabble. He’d dominated his opponent and came out victorious but not without injury. He’d been all on his own for hours before finally making it to Exfil. In those few hours, he lost a lot of blood and was without any sort of analgesic until he was in the helicopter on his way here. Whatever the field medic had given him for the pain was enough to completely incapacitate the beast of a man. All the same, it was doing its job and controlling the pain. Your team had to do an emergency surgery at the base camp because he wasn’t stable enough for a medivac to a major hospital. 

The man was in a foul mood when he awoke the next day. He wasn’t rude and uncivilized, but he made it clear the last place he wanted to be was bedbound in a field hospital. When it was mentioned he was going to be sent back home for recovery, he downright refused.  

Strangely enough, it was also the first time you saw his entire face. When he first came in you were so amped on adrenalin and stressed that you didn’t register that his mask had been removed. It was immediately established that no other personnel apart from the small 3-man team already working on him would be allowed to interact with him to ensure his identity remained confidential. It was more for their safety than his if everyone was being candid. Even in his charts any identifiers were redacted and replaced with “John Doe”. 

Two days post-op he insisted he be relocated to his barracks because he “could handle his own”. You compromised and told him you’d allow it under the one condition that he lets you come and check on him at least once a day. He did, but he didn’t exactly have a choice either because you would have shown up anyway. 

That was where you were right now. 

You knocked and waited for a response before letting yourself in, your supplies and kit in hand. It was just after noon when you arrived. You scanned his room. It was clean, almost barren. His blinds were half open, and the window cracked to let in the cool, fresh air. The clothes he was wearing when he came wounded were still in the biohazard bag we gave him when he left. The tray of food on the desk beside his bed was left untouched, and judging by the food variety it was from breakfast. 

Upon hearing your arrival Ghost had forced himself into a sitting position. His face flushed with the change of position. His dark eyes were rimmed red from a lack of sleep, and his facial hair was growing. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants with the insignia of his old company and a plain black shirt. The shirt was loose and thin, but it did nothing to hide the muscle hiding underneath.   

You rolled your eyes, blew out a breath, tossed your bag onto the bed beside him and pulled out the rolling chair at his desk to sit in front of him. 

“You look like shit,” you knocked his elbow in a silent demand to lift his arm. 

He grimaced but did it without complaint, “Ya, well I feel like shit.” 

You lifted his shirt to get a look at the bandage underneath. There wasn’t any shadowing or blood seeping through so you gave him a quick nod before dropping the shirt, “Have you taken anything?” 

He jerked his chin to the little orange bottle on his desk, “One of those.” 

You picked it up to read the label, Oxycodone 10 mg OD.  

“Nice, but you should be taking it with food,” you tilted your head in the direction of the untouched food. He merely shrugged, his eyes weary. His eyes turned the same golden brown of a whiskey glass in the sunlight.  

You discreetly took his respiratory rate before moving on, “Any side effects? Nausea? Headache? Upset stomach?”  

“Nope,” he said in exasperation. He leaned back onto his elbows, his long body stretching out across the width of the bed with his legs still hung over the side in preparation for you to change his dressings. 

You gave him an unimpressed look, before pointing to the garbage bin he had at his bedside. There wasn’t anything in it but it was placed here in preparation,  “If you aren’t going to be compliant I’m going to bring you back to the infirmary.”   

“It came and went already. I’m fine,” he moved to lift his shirt, hinting at you to hurry up get the dressing change done and leave. 

You scooted the chair closer, preparing your materials and supplies on his bedside table. When you removed the bandage and revealed the stitches you clicked your tongue, he hadn’t pulled any of them but the fact that it was still bleeding made it apparent he’d been more active than he should have been. 

“How’s it lookin’ down there, Doc?” He rolled, his gaze following your movements with predatory grace. You glowered at the nickname. 

You hummed, “Mhm.” and started cleansing the wound with saline before donning gloves and cleaning it more thoroughly. He hissed at the contact and you looked up, he had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. His body tensed, and his muscles taut. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive. Alluring even. Especially when he was in this position, and had that look on his face.  

“Are you going to survive?” You asked pulling back slightly.

“Just cold s’all.” 

He made it through the rest of the dressing change without so much as a flinch. In fact, he might have fallen asleep near the end for a second. He didn’t open his eyes until you finished securing the gauze with the last piece of tape. His lids were heavy and his mouth was pulled down into a slight frown. 

“You going to eat lunch?” you tugged off your gloves and threw them into the bin beside you. 

He nodded sluggishly and laid back on the bed, folding his hands over his abdomen. Maybe the Oxycodone was making him drowsy, but he looked like he desperately needed rest. 

“Did you sleep well last night?” You rolled back on the chair, giving him space. He shook his head. You quickly finished cleaning up any remaining supplies or trash before filling out his chart, “Maybe if you didn’t keep reopening your wound you’d be healing faster and sleep better.”     

He replied with a quiet, almost boyish chuckle, “I’ve been behaving, don’t worry.” 

“You’ve been nothing but extra paperwork,” you retort, tapping his leg with your foot. You stood with a snap of your notebook. “What do you want to drink with your lunch?” 

“Just water,” his eyes remained closed and you made your way for the door, bringing his cold breakfast with you. 

You returned with a new tray of food, this time you picked foods that would be easy on the stomach. The damn fool must have smelt it as you walked down the hall with it because before you could knock he was opening the door and stepping aside to let you in. 

“Such a gentleman,” you tapped his shoulder as you passed. 

He seemed to perk up at the brief contact, “As always.” 

You placed his tray on the table before picking up your bag to get ready to leave for the day, “Any last request?” When you turned to face him your cheeks heated at the way he regarded you. His face softened, melting into something akin to respect. He was so expressive and you didn’t think he was aware. Perhaps it was because he had grown accustomed to the protection of his mask. You almost didn’t wait for his answer before taking your leave, making an excuse that you needed to report back. You did, but it wasn’t anything urgent, you just needed to get out of his room. Away from him. If only to remember how to breathe. 

The process for the following two weeks was the same, only each day you stayed a little longer. You talked a little more. Despite his reputation, he was… normal. He was a little aloof and standoffish at times, and horribly, criminally unfunny, but he grew on you. You were slightly upset and maybe even a little scared you’d never see him again when you officially discharged him. Even worse, you were scared to see him again. Only, every time he returned from a mission he would come to pay you a visit. You might have considered calling him a friend. Might have considered wanting more from him.  

Soap would sometimes occupy Simon, having made a connection with you of his own. A different type of connection, but a wholesome one. Soap had made a jest about just recruiting you as the 141’s personal field medic instead of bothering you at work every other week. Simon had shot the idea down like water on a fire, and the topic was never brought up again. He simply stated, “Never letting that happen.” 

He had his reservations about you entering an active warzone, let alone going on assignments with a squad like the 141. He’s never outright said it but he developed a soft spot for you. Over the months he had unintentionally carved a hole in his chest just for you; a place where he could protect and watch over you. His fondness for you only made it all the harder when he received the 141’s next assignment. It was a regular convoy escort but he felt sick when he read your name on the list. He even went so far as to double-check the itinerary with Captain Price. Went so far as to try and get you removed from the assignment. When you learnt of what he was doing you cornered him and chewed his head off. You understood his trepidations and his actions, but both of you knew he was out of line when he tried getting you booted from the mission. 

The convoy, mainly consisting of medical personnel, equipment, and supplies, would be moving right through enemy lines to get from your current base to a new one a few towns over. It would be dangerous, you weren’t naive, but you were your own person. You were simmering, but you couldn’t help the twinge of regret for yelling at him. 

In the days leading up to the mission Simon had grown distant, but remained watchful of you. He kept quiet, but you could see it in the shadow of his eyes, and in the muscles between his shoulders that he had a lot to say. 

There was a total of 5 medical personnel that were being transported, yourself included. You would be a vehicle with Butters, who was elected as the head medic for the new base, and your driver was going to be none other than Captain Price. 

As everyone was preparing to leave and loading up the last supplies, you caught Price and Simon in a quiet conversation, you couldn’t hear their exchange but you could tell it was heated. Price rolled back on his feet, fixing Simon with a tight-lipped smile before shaking his head. With that Simon backed away from him, pointed a finger at him saying one last thing before he turned and stalked towards the vehicle he would be in, obviously unsatisfied with Prices’ response.   

Butters sidled up next to you, his pack slung over his arm and offering you yours in his other hand, “There has been a slight change of plans,” he sighed, “Our voyage is now split into two days, we'll be staying overnight in a town in between. Our route hasn’t been completely cleared yet.” 

You turned your attention to him, your brows furrowing, “So they want us to have a sleepover behind enemy lines?” You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. 

Butters shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the turn of events. Butters always seemed to keep his thoughts and feelings close to his chest, but it was clear very little invoked thoughts and emotions out of him. He enlisted when he was 18 years old; he was 32 now with a wife, 3 kids, and another on the way. There was a high probability he would be asking for leave in the next couple of months so he could be there for his next child's birth. It sucked because he was the only other medic you were close with. You’d miss him. 

Butters and you jumped into the back seats of one car with Price, you’d be in the middle of the convoy, Ghost, Soap, and another medic in the other would take the rear, and Gaz and Roach would be in another vehicle at the front. There was also a total of five transport trucks. The convoy would be a giant target as we passed through, which is why the 141 was tasked with our protection.   

Price explained that the ride would be slow-moving and briefed the two of you on what to expect. He instructed you both to stay alert and that there was a chance of running into a hostile.   

The first couple hours were incredibly boring, but Butters alleviated some of it by tasking you with going over the manifestation of everything you guys were hauling with you. You also made conversation with Price about his last leave, he had returned home and “sat on the patio and smoked cigars” for two weeks.

 The sound was louder than anything you ever experienced in your life. You didn’t even have time to scream before the force of the detonation knocked you unconscious. 

It couldn’t have been longer than a couple of minutes when you finally regained consciousness. The vehicle was now completely upside down, the wheels still spinning as they faced the sky. The seatbelt was the only thing keeping you from landing face-first into shattered glass and rubble. 

In front of you, Price was already pulling himself out the window and onto the street. He looked back into the cab and for you and said something. 

Nothing was processing right. Not his words. Not your thoughts. Not the sight before you. Everything was foggy, as if it was a dream. 

Price reached back for you, bracing you with an arm before releasing your seatbelt. Your knees cracked as they hit the roof, the glass ripping through your uniform. The pain didn’t even register. Price hauled you out with him before going back in for Butters. 

Only he didn’t. 

Instead, he returned with his gun. Before he could stop you, you crawled back in for Butters to get him yourself. 

You froze. There was no saving him. There was almost nothing left. 

He was on the same side the anti-vehicle mine went off. 

You slowly backed out, shaking your head not believing your own eyes. 

Price was crouched beside you, his back to the vehicle, his eyes revealed no emotion. 

You looked back down the road you had just come down and the transport truck that was tailing you had stopped before entering the intersection. Beside them was the truck that Ghost and Soap were in. Ghost was jumping out, his gun drawn. Soap slid from the passenger seat to the driver's side. The medic they were escorting jumped out the back and ran for the transport truck. 

It was then you noticed that Price was shooting at something down the intersection. You could see the flash as the bullets left the barrel and smell the gunpowder, but you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything. 

You brushed your fingers to your ear and when you looked at them they came away red. Blood.

The sheer force of the blast ruptured your eardrums. 

You watched as Ghost applied suppressing fire and sidestepped in time with the truck as Soap rolled it into the intersection.

Price looked over his shoulder at you, his mouth moving. You could see it in his eyes the moment he connected the dots and caught that you couldn’t hear he turned to Ghost. Who jerked his head towards you and met your gaze. His eyes were wide, panicked. He ditched the cover of the truck and sprinted over while Price took over the covering fire. He slid into you, his gloved finger coming up to grab the sides of your face. He was gentle but urgent as he turned your head from side to side to inspect the damage. 

You caught your reflection in one of the side mirrors, and couldn't recognize the person staring back at you. Their expression cataonic. Blood leaked out their ears, down their neck, and blood dripped out of their nose. Their teeth had gone through their bottom lip from the impact of the blast.  

A low ringing began as sounds started to come back to you. Then it turned into an agonizing peal like you had stuck your head in a fire alarm. Ghost didn’t give you a chance to cover your ears because he was already pulling you into his chest, pressing one ear into his chest, and covering the other with his free hand. Using his remaining hand he raised his gun and pulled the trigger. 

Soap pulled their truck up next to yours, making a barricade with them. He slid out, being careful to keep his head down and ready to join the fight. 

Ghost started walking back towards the buildings behind, using his body to shield you from stray bullets. He smelt of gunpowder, sweat, and dust. He smelt familiar. His hard body against yours felt familiar. You felt the reverberation of his voice in his chest as he yelled something. You stumbled back with him as he moved, but he was practically carrying you at this point so you wouldn’t fall. His gun dangled at his hip. Soap was at the door to the nearest building, kicking the door open, the lock shattering. 

The ringing in your ears was still present but you make out their muffled yelling as the rest of them filed in. Ghost sat you down at the far wall and behind rows of shelving units. Price and Soap guarded the entrance.

Price started talking into his radio, “Gaz! We got enemy fire coming from southwest of the fire hall. We’re down one and another has been wounded. We are fresh out of wheels, they planted fucking mines,” he yelled into his radio over the sound of oncoming and outgoing gunshots.  

“We’re on our way,” Gaz’s voice replied through the Ghost radio that was attached to his shoulder.  

Ghost then knelt back down in front of you and swore. His hands shook as he reached for a rectangular pack at his hip, a little red insignia printed on the front. A med-pack. He dumped its contents onto the floor, rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for. 

He lifted your leg and started wrapping your thigh, but not before you saw what he was swearing at. There was a two-inch gash in your leg exposing raw flesh and muscle underneath. 

“That’s not good,” you breathed. It felt like your throat was torn to shreds; as if you had inhaled the explosion itself. 

“You’re fine,” he didn’t look up as he wrapped. It was tight enough that it hurt and you could feel your heartbeat crashing against the pressure. Despite that, the bandage wasn’t going to last.

You choked a laugh, “You might want to get out your, ‘I told you so’s’ while you still can,” You meant for it to come off as nonchalant but your voice quivered. 

“You’re fine,” he repeated. 

“I left a kit in the back seat,” You sucked in a sharp breath when he pulled the gauze one last time to tie a knot, “I don’t know if it survived though.” 

Because it was right next to Butters before the mine tore through the side SUV he was on.

Before I could say another word, Ghost was moving towards the door. Requested for an update, then asked for covering fire before exiting the door. He returned moments later with the kit. When he brought it over he made sure to place it behind him so you couldn’t see the condition of it. You imagined it to be macabre. 

As the adrenalin pumping through your body drained it began to tremble, cold rushing into your bones. Blood was already starting to dot the surface of the bandage. 

“Powder,” You instructed Ghost. He moved fast, cutting the bandage away with the blade he pulled from its sheath at his thigh, and tearing open the packaging. It was a quick-clotting powder used to stop the bleeding. 

You were no doubt in shock because you couldn’t feel the pain anymore. He rewrapped your leg; somehow, it was even tighter than before. You heard Gaz give an update over the radio, asking for more details and you could hear Price relaying the plan. 

Your breaths became shallow and sedated, your strength ebbing away. You fought the urge to close your eyes in fear of never opening them again. 

Ghost tapped a hand on your cheek, “Don’t be falling asleep on me, now Doc.” 

You were barely able to ground out a “Sir, yes, sir,” before your chin hit the front of your chest and succumbed to the darkness pulling at you.

Part 2 

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