#home gas connection

[the-hanged-mans-ghost]

Listening to Accounts from a Lonely Broadcast Station and I'm at the part where the rangers are burning the woods and they saw the flare and were looking for Finn. I was so fucking worried Finn was going to be dead- I have never felt relief so strong when they found him alive holy shit- I don't want to lose any of the main 3, but it's a 'horror' story and I'm so scared somethings going to happen but I can't stop listening and I still have so long before the story is over and things are already so bad-

[bluelizard100]

Does anybody else get this killer idea for a fic and then when you open a doc to write everything just disappears from your brain

Here’s another thought since that’s all I can manage 💔

Poly 141!!

141 that just can’t split from each other after retirement. Soap gets shot, discharged, and they all leave, finding their own ways to be discharged.

Price who has always wanted a wife, a family, but can’t make himself leave his team.

Gaz who misses the fleeting connections he used to make on leave after missions, missing going out and bringing a pretty woman home with him.

Soap who’s losing his mind each day he isn’t allowed to sink his teeth into something sweet and soft, yearns to be the one holding rather than the one being held.

Ghost, who solves the problem.

He brings home a sweet thing he found working at a gas station. “Trying to pay for school,” she said nervously when he asked what she was doing working at such a dump.

So naturally, he saved her. He’s gotta do something about the guilt that eats away at him day after day.

What better way to absolve him than to give an angel a comfy life?

John doesn’t let you go back to school. You belong here, with them. You’re part of the team, one of theirs, they’ll take care of you.

Kyle is enamored, spends all his free time making sure you get to spend some time in the sun with him, going on walks and forcing you to talk about anything and everything you’ve ever enjoyed.

Johnny paws at you and forces you into his lap, nuzzling into your neck and coddling you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Simon watches, notes your every move. It’s no surprise to him when you try to escape, and he dries your tears for you while John punishes you.

Y’r stuck ‘ere, doll. Best get used to it, yeah? We’ll take care o’ ya.

[gssoftwareposts]

Enhancing Your Kitchen with Gas Pipeline Solutions: A Safer and Efficient Choice

In the realm of modern kitchen conveniences, the integration of advanced technologies not only simplifies tasks but also contributes to the safety and efficiency of your culinary haven. One such innovation that has gained immense popularity is the Gas Pipeline for Kitchen, an intelligent solution provided by Kitchen Solutions. In this article, we delve into the realm of gas connection pipelines for homes, exploring the benefits, installation process, and the exemplary offerings of Kitchen Solutions.

Benefits of Gas Pipeline for Kitchen:

Safety First: Gas pipelines eliminate the need for traditional gas cylinders, minimizing the risk of accidents caused by leakage or mishandling.

Continuous Supply: Enjoy an uninterrupted cooking experience with a direct supply of gas, ensuring that your culinary adventures are never put on hold.

Space Optimization: Bid farewell to the space-consuming gas cylinders and make way for more storage and maneuvering space in your kitchen.

Cost-Effective: While the initial setup cost is higher, the long-term benefits, including reduced refill expenses, make gas pipelines a cost-effective choice.

Environmentally Friendly: Gas pipelines reduce the need for frequent transportation of gas cylinders, contributing to a greener environment with a reduced carbon footprint.

Gas Connection Pipeline for Home: Installation Process:

The installation of a gas connection pipeline for your home involves several steps that Kitchen Solutions expertly handles:

Initial Assessment: Trained technicians assess your kitchen's layout and design to plan the optimal pipeline route and installation points.

Safety Measures: Precautions are taken to ensure the safety of your home during the installation process, minimizing any potential hazards.

Pipeline Installation: High-quality pipes, connectors, and fittings are used to set up the gas pipeline with precision and durability.

Testing: Rigorous pressure and leakage tests are conducted to ensure the integrity of the pipeline, adhering to the highest safety standards.

Seamless Integration: The pipeline is seamlessly integrated into your kitchen space, with minimal aesthetic impact.

Why Choose Kitchen Solutions for Your Gas Pipeline Needs?

Kitchen Solutions stands out as a trusted provider of gas pipeline solutions, offering a range of benefits that set them apart in the market:

Expertise: With years of experience, Kitchen Solutions boasts a team of skilled technicians who understand the intricacies of gas pipeline installations.

Customization: Each kitchen is unique, and Kitchen Solutions tailors its services to your specific requirements, ensuring an installation that complements your kitchen's aesthetics.

Quality Materials: Kitchen Solutions prioritizes the use of high-quality pipes, connectors, and fittings to ensure the longevity and safety of your gas pipeline.

Safety Assurance: Stringent testing procedures guarantee that your gas pipeline functions flawlessly, prioritizing the safety of your home and loved ones.

Customer Support: Beyond installation, Kitchen Solutions offers reliable customer support to address any queries or concerns you may have about your gas pipeline.

Making the Switch:

Transitioning to a gas connection pipeline might seem like a significant step, but the benefits it offers make it a compelling choice:

Convenience: Say goodbye to the hassle of booking gas cylinder refills or handling heavy cylinders. A gas pipeline ensures a hassle-free cooking experience.

Uninterrupted Cooking: Hosting a dinner party or preparing a family meal? A direct gas supply means you'll never run out of fuel midway through your culinary endeavors.

Modern Aesthetics: Gas cylinders can be an eyesore in a well-designed kitchen. A concealed gas pipeline enhances your kitchen's aesthetics, allowing your décor to shine.

Financial Savings: While the initial installation cost might be higher, the reduced need for cylinder refills and the long-term durability of pipelines can lead to significant savings.

Conclusion:

Embracing innovation in your kitchen is not just about convenience; it's about creating a safer and more efficient space that enhances your culinary experiences. Gas pipelines for kitchens offer a transformative solution that prioritizes safety, sustainability, and convenience. With Kitchen Solutions at the helm of these installations, you can rest assured that your kitchen will be equipped with a top-notch gas connection pipeline tailored to your needs. Say yes to a future where cooking is a joyous journey, backed by the power of advanced technology.

So, why wait? Elevate your kitchen today with Kitchen Solutions' exceptional gas pipeline services and savor the delights of a seamlessly connected cooking space.

[bibleofficial]

walking around campus feeling like i’m back in highschool after graduating 😭😭

[lyjen]

Freeway 710

Summary: When (Y/n) drives home from her work, she meets the 710 freeway wrong-way driver. The 118, including her fiancé Evan gets dispatched to the scene. When the 118 finds the car on the scene, (Y/n) is barely conscious and Evan tries to keep himself together.

Request by: @shauna-carsley

Taglist: @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

9-1-1 Masterlist

(Y/n) stepped down on the gas pedal as soon as she entered the 710 freeway in Los Angeles. Driving on the freeway was always something that made (Y/n) nervous, even though she had to drive over that road every single day to get to work and back. 

But on the other hand, driving was like some kind of therapy for her. It was one of the moments she could empty her mind, something she really needed after a day of work. She didn’t have a typical 9 to 5 job everyone talked about.

(Y/n) worked for the 9-1-1 Metro Dispatch Center in Los Angeles. She loved the job, but it could be heavy sometimes. You would be expecting the most normal calls, the house fires, someone breaking into someone's home or someone having a medical emergency. But apparently there are so many more kinds of emergencies, but you wouldn’t know until you were an actual dispatcher.

A yawn left (Y/n)’s mouth as she looked over her shoulder to see if she could switch lanes. With her left hand she clicked the blinker on to the left and switched lanes. 

The job was fun, sometimes tiring, but it was something she was born to do: help people. And the best part of it was the fact that she could stay anonymous. Something she didn’t like was being in the spotlight, and this way she could do both. 

All she wanted right now was to get home, drop herself on the couch and sleep, or maybe watch some trash tv. 

(Y/n)’s thoughts wandered, something that sometimes happened as she was tired. She would start daydreaming. She knew the route from home to work and back like the back of her hand, she could dream it if she wanted to. She would stay focussed on the road, but after driving this road so many times you start to get used to a routine. 

Her sweaty palms held onto the steering wheel as she switched the blinker up, gesturing to the other drivers on the 710 that she was going to the right lane. With another quick look into her blind spot, she moved the car to the other lane again. 

Her hand reached out for the touchscreen panel, trying to skip the song that was currently on. (Y/n)’s eyes wandered back from the screen towards the road as she could hear other drivers in the distance from her start using their horn. Something that would make her mad and her anxiety rise if it came from the cars behind her. 

“Really?” she sighed as the honks kept sounding over the freeway. But when the cars in front of her started to move towards the side and her eyes were completely in focus with the two headlights in front of her. 

She felt like a deer looking into headlights, literally. Her pupils grew wide as she tried to react to the sudden situation she was in. But suddenly she didn’t know what to do, she felt like she was frozen. She couldn’t think, or act. Like the connection between her brain and her nerves system was cut off, as if some kind of error had occurred. 

Just a few feet before the car would’ve smashed hers, she yanked the steering wheel towards the right to avoid the wrong-way driver. 

The second she saw the other driver pass her car, she thought she had made it through without any scratches. It wasn’t until another car hit her passenger side, her forehead connects with the steering wheel as the airbag goes off and lashes her head back against the headrest of the carseat.

(Y/n) could feel the car start to spin. But those spins quickly made the car flip to the side and go over the head multiple times. A loud squeal left her lips as she could feel her body being shaken up. It felt like her stomach together with all the intestines almost came out of her mouth. 

The smell of the engine fought its way through her nostrils.Her throat was burning from all the screams and cries that had left her mouth as the car finally stopped rolling. 

A groan left her lips as she had a throbbing pain in her head and her ears were ringing due to the airbag going off, it was hard to focus on anything really. 

She could feel all the blood from her body go towards her head, which made her realize that the car was flipped upside down. 

Her eyes filled with panic, she tapped her fingers onto the display where her phone was connected to. It wasn’t reacting to the contact of her fingertip. 

Broken. Of course.  

She could feel herself slip away, as she tried to keep herself conscious, but she didn’t know how. She needed to find her phone. She squeezed her eyes closed for a second, trying to get back her vision, but it only became worse.

And the fact it was dark outside didn’t help much either. The mix of a blurry vision and the darkness outside didn’t give her an advantage. 

Her breathing was becoming shallow, and she could feel the blood dripping off her forehead, into the car. She scanned her surroundings, until her eye fell onto a black haze. That had to be her bag. 

She tries to reach out, but as she tries to make her body longer, a scream leaves her mouth and a throbbing sensation spreads in her leg. 

Short breaths were passing her lips. Her leg was killing her, her head and arm were starting to hurt even more. The adrenaline must be leaving her body. 

But she had to get to her phone. How was someone going to find her otherwise? She needed to get through the pain and call for help, it was the only way. 

With her arm she reached out for the black blur that must be her bag. She bites her lower lip as she could feel the pain in her leg becoming worse as she reached further and further. Her fingertips brushed the handles of her bag. 

Another scream leaves her mouth as she reaches another small inch further and finally manages to grab her bag. She quickly rumbled in her bag as she fished out her phone. 

Her eyes wandered over the screen as she couldn’t see anything but a blur. She could blink for minutes, but it wouldn’t matter because her eyes wouldn’t stop projecting a blurry vision. 

How was she going to call someone if she couldn’t read the numbers? 

She held the on and off button, as soon as she heard the tone that Siri was activated. “Siri call nine, one, one” She watched the phone go to the caller screen as a few drops of blood fell off her face onto the screen.

As she waited for an operator to pick up, her vision was starting to project black dots. Her ears were still ringing, but she could hear the phone trying to connect with dispatch.

“9-1-1 are you calling about the pile up?” The familiar operator's voice sounded through the phone. It was a young one, and there only worked one younger person there than (Y/n) . 

It was May, Athena’s daughter.

Her voice sounded dull in the back of her mind as a gasp fell off her lips. “I think.. I-.. I was in it.” she stumbled with a soft voice, as if she was whispering. She was trying to breathe away the pain she felt in her entire body. 

“First responders are on scene and working, you should be able to see them.” May said as she typed details from the call on to the log.

“I- don’t see.. anyone” her weak voice said as she looked around the car, seeing nothing but the night sky and feeling her own blood dripping off her face onto the roof of the car. Which was now connected with the ground. 

“Are you injured?” the younger girl’s voice asked through the phone. 

“I think my leg is stuck” she claimed. The black and white dots in her eyes were expanding and multiplying until she couldn’t see anything at all. 

“Are you there? Ma’-” May's voice sounded on the background, getting duller with each letter she was pronouncing, but the call got cut off. The only thing she could see right now is the color black as she heard the beeping sound fade out. 

_

Evan was just walking beside his captain, as he heard Sue’s voice over the radio. “Dispatch to one eighteen, come in. This is Sue” the voice from Sue, the supervisor of the Metro Dispatch Centre, sounded over the channel on their radio. Evan’s eyebrows furrowed at the sound of Sue. Why was she talking over the radio? That was something that rarely happened. 

Bobby wrapped his hand around the radio as he pushed in the button to speak. “Go for captain Nash” he said as he let go of the button which turned his microphone on. Evan and Bobby kept walking over the freeway, scanning the scene if there were any more persons trapped in their cars or in any other way of distress. 

Evan’s eyes swept over the scene, crashed cars, broken windows and mirrors, and lots of damage. And this all because a woman was drunk and decided to get in the driver's seat. He couldn’t believe that the woman in this situation had a little underage boy in the backseat.

“Captain Nash, we received a call from a woman, who claims that she was in the pile up on the freeway seven ten.” The sound of Sue sounded through the radio clipped on Buck’s turnout jacket. 

Did they miss someone? It couldn’t be. Buck was sure he had checked every vehicle, every small corner. But he was starting to question if he didn’t miss anything.

Bobby seemed confused, his eyes furrowed at Sue’s words. Evan could read on his captain’s face that he was going off some kind of mental checklist. “I’m sure we’ve already extricated everyone that has been in this crash, are they sure she was in this crash?” Bobby knew for sure he and his crew already checked every vehicle. 

“Hold on captain, we are trying to get the phone’s coördinates” Sue’s voice said again. In the meantime Evan and Bobby stopped both in their tracks, waiting for Sue to find the exact location of the phone that sent her the coordinates. Evan focussed his eyes down onto the asphalt of the freeway, trying to make out if maybe he did see anything. 

Evan did remember lots of cars crashed into each other, but he didn’t see any other vehicles get off the road somehow. He would’ve spotted it. He never missed a victim. 

His eyes shot up as he could hear the noise from the radio pop up again. “The location from the caller is the forty-three exit ramp” the female voice spoke. 

Evan’s eyes wandered over the scene to see where they were. When he couldn’t find any signs telling him where they were, he quickly turned around. His eyes found those green freeway signs, telling him exactly where they were. 

Exit ramp forty-six. 

His stomach turned as his eyes read the sign. They were three exits further than where another car had crashed? Evan slowly turned back around towards Bobby. “So.. this car wasn’t in the pile up.” He concluded. 

“She was in front of it.” Bobby added to Evan’s conclusion. 

How didn’t anyone else see that one car? People behind the car that got hit should’ve seen it, right? “Everybody on me! Come on, let's move!” Bobby said loudly as he waved his team over as he was running towards the truck. 

They needed to get back to exit ramp forty-three as soon as possible. This victim was hurt, and was in need of immediate medical attention. Every second counts in these kinds of situations. 

Just as Evan jumps in the truck as the last one of his team. He shut the door with a bang as he made a fist with his hand and banged it against the roof of the truck, as a sign that the truck could go. “Let’s go!” Evan’s voice spoke as Miller stepped on the gas pedal. 

Even though Miller’s foot touched the bottom of the truck with the gas pedal, it felt like a dozen minutes until they arrived at exit ramp forty-three. 

Evan’s eyes didn’t leave the sight of the window he was looking through. He was on a mission. He was going to find that car that he couldn’t have missed. And he for sure wasn’t missing it now. 

The truck pulled to a stop, even before it pulled to a stop, he flung open the door and he jumped out. Scanning every inch of the entire scene. 

His eyes rushed over the scene until his eyes fell onto the sign ‘Exit 43’. He let his eyes wander not even an inch lower, until he spotted tire tracks in front of the sign. 

His veins were being filled with adrenaline as soon as he saw those tire tracks. “Hey hey! Tire tracks! Right here!” Evan pointed out as he looked over his shoulder, looking at his team, silently asking if they were seeing it too. 

From a distance he could spot a small amount of smoke floating into the air and spreading itself. ”Let’s go let’s go!” he yelled at the team as he started running towards the side of the road, following the tire tracks into the grass. Just at the edge of the grass he stopped in his steps as he scanned the scene. Suddenly his stomach turned at the sight. 

A blue Mini Cooper.

******

A soft smile was projected on (Y/n)’s face as Evan held the door open for her and she ducked a little to avoid hitting her head against his arm. She walked through the doors of the bar where she and Evan had spent their Friday night. 

No date, no alcohol, just a few drinks with a friend. It was nice, having someone to talk to who didn’t do the same job as you. (Y/n) didn’t have many friends, and most of the time after her shift at the dispatch center  all she wanted to do was to go home. 

But when she got that text from Buck, asking if she wanted to grab some drinks after shift. She couldn’t say no. Mainly because she had a bad shift, and she needed to vent to someone, but also because somehow she couldn’t seem to stay away from the firefighter. 

“Thank you. I really needed this” (Y/n)’s voice spoke up as Evan caught up and was walking on her right side. With her hands in the pockets of her beige thin corduroy jacket, she glanced over at Evan who gave her a small smile. “Glad I could offer that listening ear for you.” his voice said as he nodded, happy that he sent that text message.

 

There was silence, not the awkward kind. It was nice, she felt comfortable. 

Evan stopped in his tracks. “Hey, do you need a ride home?” he carefully asked, he didn’t want to push her into anything. She gave him another small smile as she stopped walking too and was in front of him. “That’s sweet of you, but…” she opened her bag and dug in the small compartment, as she fished out her car keys from her bag. 

”Already taken care of that” she smiles as the hanger of the key chain was balancing on her index finger, moving it slightly as if it was some kind of price. 

“Always thinking ten steps ahead” he chuckles. 

A small laugh fell off her lips as she looked down at her feet, and let her eyes slowly wander back to his face. “Well then, can I maybe walk you to your car?” he asked, as he scratched the back of his head. 

“That would be nice, thank you” she said as Evan quietly asked her which way to go. She pointed towards her left, where a small parking lot was stationed a few feet away from the restaurant and where they were now. 

As they made their way towards the parking lot, (Y/n) could feel her arm brush against his. “You know, I was going to offer to even walk you back to your house” Evan spoke up. “But then I realized, I didn’t know where you live” he continued as he looked to his left. 

“Very subtle” she laughed as she looked back at him. “Just a few minutes from here actually.” she added as they entered the parking lot. Fidgeting with the car keys in her hand she felt Evan’s fingers brushing against her hand. 

“This is me” she smiled, pointing at the blue Mini Cooper and unlocked the car with a click on her car key. With his eyebrows furrowed, he looked at the car and back to the girl he had spent hours talking with inside the bar. “Not what you expected?” she reacted as she waited for him to speak up. 

A laugh rolled off his lips. “It’s just.. I didn’t..” he couldn’t even finish his sentence, because he didn’t know what he would’ve expected otherwise. “Because if you were expecting me to drive a Toyota Prius, I’m not that kind of girl.” she teased him, as he was finding the right words.

His fingers traced over his chin, as he was thinking of what to say. “Apparently you’re a blue mini cooper kind of girl” he concluded as he pointed at the car. “Are you making fun of me?” she shot back as she took a step closer. 

She could feel her breathing becoming slower and deeper. “Me? Oh I wouldn’t dare..” he said as he took a step closer, closing the distance between each other. 

She could feel his deep breaths on her skin. Their noses almost touching each other. “Evan..” she sighed as she felt his hand brush over her shoulder, getting rid of the strands of hair. “(Y/n)..” his soft voice said. As the hand traced from her shoulder to the side of her face. Slightly wandering over her cheek.

“We shouldn’t..” she breathed as she felt his fingers touch hers. Their faces are dangerously close to one another. “Tell me we’re just friends..” he whispered as his hand went from touching fingers to grabbing her hand, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand. As the thumb of his other hand brushed over her cheek. “I can’t..” she said softly as she leaned in to the touch of his thumb.

She felt him leaning closer and closer, as she turned away her head, making a bee-line for his cheek. Her warm lips touched the soft, stubbled side of his face. “Goodnight, Buck” 

******

Evan was sure his heart just dropped from his chest down to his feet. It was her. It was his own girlfriend, trapped in her blue Mini Cooper that was flipped upside down.

Without thinking clearly, he ran down the oblique concrete blocks. His voice screaming her name, making his throat hurt from the loudness and his legs were moving faster than his head at this point.

He didn’t know how many times her name fell off his lips, he needed her to react. To give her some sign of life.

He let himself fall down onto his knees next to the driver's side as he tried to get a visual of (Y/n). The glass windows were broken in the crash, the opening where the glass window used to be, was pancaked a few inches smaller because of the rolls it made over the concrete blocks.

It was smaller than usual, the window. But he could see her.

Cuts and bruises were spread over her face, and the blood from those wounds were smeared all over her face. “I see her!” he yells at his team as he stands up and backs away from the door so Eddie could break open the door. Eddie places the halligan he was holding between the door and the frame of the car, trying to open the jammed door.

He popped the door open, and not even a second later, Evan wormed himself through the door opening of the driver's side.

His eyes fell onto the blood on her face, dripping off her face and onto the inside part of the roof. A large stain of blood had appeared on the roof fabric, meaning she had lost a lot of blood, but he could see the blood still dripping from her head. “Looks like she has lost a lot of blood!” he concluded.

In the meanwhile, Hen had squeezed herself through the passenger's side of the car, placing her fingers against (Y/n)’s neck. “Her pulse is racing!” Hen says as Evan scanned the environment, seeing her leg being pinned between her seat and the dashboard. “Leg is pinned between the dashboard and the seat! Possible broken leg.” Evan says.

Evan could hear Bobby commanding the others of the team to go and get the hydraulic spreaders. But he needed her to open her eyes, give him some sign of life. “(Y/n)? Can you hear me?” He asks as he softly patted his fingertips against her cheek, trying to get her conscious again.

Hen in the meanwhile, got a c-collar and put it around (Y/n)’s neck. “Please, open your eyes” Evan begged her. She was still there. He knew she was.

A groan left her mouth as she could hear his voice in the back of her mind, with her ears still ringing of the blow from the airbag.

Her eyes felt heavy, almost like there was someone trying to push them down again. As if someone didn’t want her to wake up. She fought the feeling of her eyelids closing, but she couldn’t. It felt like all her energy was being sucked out of her body.

So she needed to find her voice, and use it. “Leg..” she groaned as she felt the stinging pain in her leg become worse within the second. Evan’s eyes grew wide as he heard her soft, quiet voice through his ears.

“Hey, hey, hey! We’ve got you” He tried to keep her calm. “I need that spreader over here!” Buck said towards his team. But just as those words left his mouth, Eddie came over with the spreaders and Hen left the passenger’s side to get to the ambulance and get out the gurney.

“Okay, (Y/n).. this might hurt” Eddie says as he placed the spreaders between the chair and dashboard so the tool can push the dashboard away from the seat and her leg. Evan took off his turnout jacket as he held it as some kind of shield in front of her body and face.

She placed her hand onto a part of Evan’s leg, curling up the fabric of his turnout pants in between her fingers.

Just as an inch of the dashboard was pushed away from her leg, she felt a heavy, painful shot of pain going through her leg. She could feel the tears because of the pain welling up in her eyes as she let out a loud scream.

The scream that left her lips went through Evan’s bones, he wanted to do anything to take her pain away. With every scream her hand became stronger and pulled more and more the fabric of the turnout pants.

Multiple squeals, and screams later, her leg was free.

He felt her hand loosen her grip on his pants. Evan threw aside his turn out coat as he crouched down to finally get her body out of the upside down position she was in. But when he called out her name, to get her attention. She didn’t react.

Panic started to build inside of his body as he could feel his heart stop. There was this pressure on his chest, telling him that this wasn’t good. “(Y/n)?” he called out her name again. But as he placed his two fingers in the crook of her neck, his gut feeling was right.

She didn’t have a pulse.

“I can’t find her pulse!” he yelled, as he could feel his soul leaving his body. No. This wasn’t happening. In the middle of Evan’s panic, he could vaguely hear Bobby shouting orders, and that was when Eddie entered the passengers side. “We got you” he tried to reassure himself but also the woman in the seat.

They didn’t have time now to go and splint her leg. They needed to cut her loose and start CPR.

With his eyes locked on Eddie, he watched and heard him countdown. Eddie was holding a seatbelt cutter in his hand as Evan’s hands held both her shoulders, ready to guide her down. “One.. two.. three” Eddie’s voice counted down as he cut through the fabric of the seatbelt. Evan guided her body down, so she would land on her back. They straightened her body so Evan could carry her out through the driver’s side.

It was horrifying. Seeing someone talking and breathing and within the snap of a finger, she was unconscious and in cardiac arrest.

He placed his arms underneath her arm pits and pulled her out through the driver’s side. He guided her neck and head and placed it gently onto the backboard. Evan let himself fall onto his knees as he interlaced his right hand on top of his left hand. “Starting compressions!” he called out as he started pumping up and down his fiancé’s chest.

“Buck” Bobby’s voice spoke from behind him, as he felt a hand being placed on his shoulder. But he made a turn with his arm, telling him quietly to get off. He was busy. Saving the love of his life. “Twenty five, twenty six..” he breathed through the chest compressions.

“Buck..” Bobby said again, but this time with a more commanding tone. But he ignored it. Again. He knew he had a team of paramedics around him. He knew he could’ve just asked Hen, Eddie or Chimney to take over. But he felt the urge, a responsibility to do it himself. He needed to know what he did all he could to save her.

But that chance of saving her was taken away from him when he felt two arms gripping his upper arms, pulling him away from the lifesaving actions he was doing.

A cry left his mouth, “No! I need to save her!” he screamed. The visual he had of her, was becoming smaller and smaller every feet he was being dragged back. He could see Hen taking over the chest compressions. He wanted to break free from the grip someone was holding him in. But Bobby jumped in front of him, trying to calm him down, blocking his view of his girl.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. All the screams, all the people running around him. And he couldn’t do anything. Every single thing Bobby said, didn’t even enter his mind. As if he was muted.

“I got a pulse!” Hen’s voice entered his mind, and just as he heard those four simple words. He lost it. He stopped fighting. The arms around his upper arms slowly loosened, as he didn’t fight back.

He saw Chimney and Eddie carrying the backboard with her on it, placing it on the gurney and racing down the asphalt towards the ambulance. As he watched her being wheeled away, he could feel his knees caving in.

“Buck? Are you alright?” Bobby asks as he tries to get some kind of contact with his team member he was standing eye to eye with But the firefighter didn’t react. His eyes were locked onto that gurney, and didn’t leave its sight.

His knees buckled as he fell down onto his knees. Just as his knees wanted to connect with the asphalt beneath his feet, two arms were curled up around his arms. He could breathe again, as if the blockage inside his airways were being taken away and he could take a proper breath again. He held onto Bobby’s arms as tears rolled down his cheeks.

She was alive.

_____

There she was, connected to all those wires and tubes. Both her left arm and left leg were casted. Her arm was in a sling, it was a cruel sight, something you even didn’t wish your worst enemy to happen.

Evan had been sitting in those horrible hospital chairs, sitting next to the side of her bed, silent. Hoping that some kind of miracle would make her breathe on her own.

With his hands clasped together dangling between his legs, his eyes shot at the door as he felt the presence of someone in the door opening.

“Hey, I came as soon as I could” the voice of Evan’s sister sounded through his ears. He saw Maddie stepping over the threshold, already with her arms wide open, ready to give him a hug.

Evan stood up as she pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck. He had no tears left to cry, he wrapped his arms around his sister's body as he buried his face into the crook of her neck.

After a few counts she loosened her grip and pulled back from the hug.

“What happened? Is she okay?” Maddie asked two questions at once. Evan looked down to the ground. “I don’t know” he silently whispered.

All they knew right now was that she was stable. She had a broken arm, a broken femur, multiple cuts and bruises over her body and a concussion. And the worst sight of it all, was her being connected to a ventilator.

Two minutes and forty seconds. That’s how long her heart stopped on scene.

The doctors put her in a medically induced coma and connected her to a ventilator to minimize the injury to the brain.

He wished he had never had to see this. It was horrible to see the one you loved with a tube down her throat and a machine doing all the work. The beeping inside the hospital room wasn't really helping Evan to calm down.

His breathing was shaky as he searched for the right words. “W-we got a call about a pile up… Then dispatch told us there was another woman stuck.” He tried to explain, with a trembling voice.

“(Y/n)” Maddie concluded as she kept her eyes on her little brother, whose hands were starting to shake as a leaf. A broken “yes” fell off his lips, as Maddie placed her hands onto her brother’s. Telling him she was there for him, that it was okay to be scared of the unknown.

“She wasn’t in the pile up Maddie.” His slightly less trembling voice was sounding through the room. He was on the edge of crying, again. He wasn’t sure how many tears he had wiped away from his cheek in the last hours. “She was in front of it.” He added as he looked down to his hands.

“I just.. wished I would’ve found out sooner.” He said as his eyes wandered back to (Y/n). Breathing in the oxygen that came from the ventilator. Evan feels one of Maddie’s hands being placed onto his upper arm as she shortly rubbed her hand up and down.

There was a silence between the siblings. Maddie let go of Evan’s hand and his upper arm as her gaze went to (Y/n). Slowly she walked towards the right side of the bed, as her brother took place on the other side.

He watched his sister take her hand and gently rubbed her thumb over the top of (Y/n)’s IV’ed hand. He could see the tears welling up in Maddie’s eyes. “I still remember the first time when I introduced you two to each other..” Maddie’s voice sounded quite dreamy but ended with a small sob.

Through the small amount of tears, a small laugh fell off his lips. Of course she had to bring that up. It was in the exact same hospital as they were in right now. Not the kind of location you’d think of to meet the love of your life.

******

With in his right hand a tray filled with two to-go cups and in his other hand a small pink box, he stepped out the elevator as soon as the bell rang. Letting him know that he had reached the level where his sister was staying the last few days.

At first she was staying in a hospital in Big Bear, but all she wanted was to get out of that hell hole that reminded her of her dead ex-husband she killed out of self defense. She needed to go to Los Angeles and did whatever it took to be transferred to the same hospital as Chimney.

Even though his sister told him that she was fine, and he didn’t need to visit her that often. He still came over during visitor hours, he didn’t care if she told him not to. Evan needed to see for himself that she was fine. He knew Doug was dead, but it killed him from the inside that he wasn’t there to protect her when she needed him.

He walked through the hospital hallways, the atmosphere here was always so chilly. Everything was white, the employees were always dressed in scrubs: pink, green, blue, navy blue, even black.

Not the kind of location you wanted to spend your days inside. Even though Evan came here multiple times a day sometimes to drop someone off at the emergency room, he’d rather be somewhere else. You’d think as a firefighter you’ll be working more with burning buildings. But believe it or not, overall there are more medical calls than actual fires.

Evan took another turn, and finally got his eyes on the room where his sister was in. With his gaze locked on the to go cups, keeping an eye on the cups so he wouldn’t accidentally spill any of the drinks. He stepped over the threshold.

“Hey Maddie I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I-” he stopped mid-sentence as his eyes scanned the room. Realizing that there was another person in the room. “Oh- I didn’t know you had a visitor” he stumbled awkwardly.

The girl gave him a small, but gentle smile. Evan on the other hand, was tongue tied.

“Oh it’s okay Buck, I wanted to introduce you two anyways. So you can finally visualize a face to all the stories” Maddie says as she pointed at the stranger and back to him. Evan furrowed his brow, so she had told him stories with her name in it before.

He placed the two to go cups and the paper bag he had onto the small table next to his sister’s bed. He wiped his hands clean quickly on his thighs, getting rid of the warmth on his hands.

“(Y/n), this is my little brother Evan.” Maddie says as her eyes wander from (Y/n) back to Evan. The name sounded so familiar to him. He had heard that name before, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“And Evan, this is my colleague (Y/n)” Maddie continued. He stepped closer to the colleague of his sister and held out his hand. She placed her hand into his as she shook it. “Buck, nobody really calls me Evan.” He corrected Maddie.

“Buck..” she repeated him, his name fell softly off her lips. “I heard some great things about you.” she continued as she gave him another smile. A smile that made him weak at the knees. She had one of those smiles that made the rest of the world smile too.

“Oh no.. what did she tell you?” Panic was slightly building up in his chest, Evan knew that Maddie sometimes would give too much information. ”If she told you about stealing evidence from the police-” he added, as he gets interrupted by his sister.

“Wait, you stole evidence?” she asked with a confused expression projected on her face. Evan turned towards his sister. “I thought you knew?” Maddie shook her head with that same expression still on her face. Wow he was really making a fool out himself now.

There was a silence between the siblings.

“Anyways.. for example during the earthquake, when you guys helped save a man and a woman from the tilted building. Pretty impressive.” She spoke. Trying to make things right again. “Just doing my job” Evan smiles as he places his hand on the back of his neck.

“She helped at one of your calls during Christmas, the overworked guy who ended up in a box?” Maddie jumped in on the conversation. “There was a dispatcher that kept calling the man’s phone for the team to find him.” She added, trying to help her brother to refresh his mind.

His eyes grew wider; he knew he had heard her voice before. “That was you?” He asks, pointing at her. “The one and only” she laughed. Evan wasn’t sure if she was laughing because of the surprised reaction he gave or the fact that he looked like some kind of fanboy.

“That action of yours saved us so much time. That was insanely smart.” He complimented her as his eyes wandered from her addictive smile towards her eyes. He noticed her looking down to the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“I’m just.. trying my best. But really, you guys are the real heroes though. We’re just sitting behind a desk answering calls” she says. But Evan didn't quite share that opinion. They needed dispatch. Without them they were just some confused firefighters, not knowing where to go and what the situation was. They could see things that the firefighters couldn’t when they were on scene.

“Nonsense, your job is as important as mine. You are our eyes in the skies.” Evan said.

What was this? A compliment challenge? Who can give the most compliments wins?

A shy smile appeared on her face, (Y/n) could feel her cheeks burning. Almost blushing. Compliments like that she gets from her co-workers, never from anyone who wasn't a dispatcher.

As if everything in the room had disappeared and they were the only two left. The two of them just stared at each other. Evan wasn’t sure for how long, but Maddie broke the silence in the room by clearing her throat.

When Maddie cleared her throat, it worked like a finger snap. Snapping (Y/n) right out of her thoughts. “Anyways! It was really good to finally meet you. Evan- I mean Buck.” She corrected herself.

She hung her purse over her shoulder as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as soon as she stood up straight again. ”But I have to go.. feed.. my cat.” She stumbled, (Y/n) gave Maddie and her brother a quick goodbye as she left the room.

Evan’s eyes followed the woman out of the room, even when she left the room he followed her movements through the window. “You think she’s cute, don’t you?” Maddie’s voice made way through his eardrums, getting him back to reality.

“What? No! No.” His voice was defensive at first, but at the second denial his voice sounded more soft. Evan walked towards the table where he had placed the two to go cups and a small paper bag.

“Oh you so do..” she said as she noticed him turning his back to her to get the cups. “Maddie, you know I’m done dating first responders.. I’m not doing that again.” He stuttered as he handed his sister the right cup.

Maddie accepted the cup from her sibling and held it between her two hands. “Uhuh.. oh and.. for the record..” she started, and stopped to open the cup and threw in a small bag of sugar. “She doesn’t have a cat.” She continued, taking a sip from her coffee.

Evan shook his head as a smile appeared again on his face. His sibling was way too good at reading him.

Maddie swallowed her sip of coffee as she was already bringing the cup to her lips. “So.. when did you steal evidence? And why?” she asked as she took another sip of her coffee.

******

“I knew from the second I introduced the two of you, that you’d end up together.” Maddie stated, as she kept her eyes on the girl in the hospital bed. Evan’s eyebrows were raised, surprised his sister would say something like that. But on the other hand, it was Maddie.

Maddie’s voice kept on going on the back of Evan’s mind as he took a look at the devices his fiancé was hooked up on. Evan wasn’t much of a doctor or a paramedic, but he noticed the smallest kind of difference in the device that measured her heart rate.

His eyes wandered from the devices back to her body, he scanned her body, every sound of her heart beat, every breath.

Something is wrong” he said under his voice.

His stomach turned at the sight of his fiancé. This whole time when he looked at her, he felt fine. But right now in this moment, something felt off. He couldn’t describe what or why, he just knew.

He watched her breathing become faster within every second he spectated. Evan held out a hand towards his sister, as a stop sign, to tell her to stop talking for one second. Her breathing was as if she had run a whole marathon, while the machines were starting to beep faster with every breath she took. “She can’t breathe..” Evan said. He felt the panic rising inside his chest, but he didn’t hesitate and clicked the emergency button above her hospital bed.

He pushed himself from the side of the bed and sprinted down the room, towards the hallway. He repeated the same sentence multiple times, each time he let those words leave his mouth it became louder and louder.

Before he knew it, a few nurses came running down the hallway, aiming for (Y/n)’s hospital room. They entered the room as Evan was still standing at the door, not knowing what to do with himself.

In the meanwhile Maddie gets guided away from the bedside, so the nurses could do their job and figure out what is wrong with his girl. Maddie made a beeline for her little brother, as he could see the tears in her eyes.

He could sense his sister’s hand onto his shoulder, saying things like “she’ll be okay” and “she’s stronger than you think”. But at this moment, the sight of the nurses disconnecting her from the tubes made him question if they actually knew what they were doing.

Why were they disconnecting her? What was going on? A thousand questions were running through his mind at the same time.

-

“They put her on ECMO three days ago.. and now they’re already telling me that they want to get her off.” Evan said as he stood eye to eye with the window that looked over her hospital room. “Isn’t that what you wanted? For her to be healthy and to wake up again?” Eddie asks as he looks at his best friend.

Evan looked like a ghost wandering the halls of the fourth floor of the hospital. He was here day and night, at least.. until one of the nurses or doctors had to kick him out of the hospital. It was like he was stuck to that chair in the room and he drank that terrible hospital coffee.

Every now and then friends of Evan, or (Y/n) came to show their support during visiting hours. They’d bring drinks and food, they knew how horrible the drinks and food were in the hospital.

He leaned his palms onto the small frame of the window, With his eyes still locked on the window he shook his head. “But what if it’s too soon?” he said. He knew the consequences back and forth of getting someone off ECMO and out of a medically induced coma.

“They’re doctors, they know what 's best for their patients.” Eddie explained. Evan sighed, he knew Eddie was right. Eddie turned ninety degrees to the right, now fully facing the side profile of Evan. He crossed his arms as he waited for a reaction of his best friend. “There’s something else that is bothering you, isn't it?” Eddie asks.

Eddie knew him too well to miss this signal that he was giving him. Evan pushed himself up with the palm of his hands and turned towards Eddie. He scratched the back of his head. “They told me she may suffer from amnesia” he admits, keeping his eyes on Eddie. Waiting for some kind of reaction.

“You’re scared she won’t remember what happened?” Eddie asks, trying to get some more clarification. “I mean, what do I do when she won’t remember the accident? Hell, what do I do if she won’t remember me?” God he sounded so desperate. But he needed to share the questions inside of his head before it’d actually become too much for him alone to handle.

Eddie pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to find the right words to motivate and support his friend, who felt more like a brother to him, in these difficult times. “Buck..” Evan’s name fell like a sigh off his lips. But before he could even speak, Evan’s voice spoke up. “I don’t know if I can handle that Eddie.” he sounded like a sixteen year old again, doubting himself with making choices.

Eddie’s eyes softened at the sight of his best friend looking like that. As if he didn’t go through enough already. He placed his hand on Evan’s shoulder, and gave it a soft squeeze, getting his attention. “It’s going to be hard, but you can’t back out now. She’s your fiancé, and in the worst case scenario she won’t remember you. Okay, fine. It will hurt. But I’m sure, if you just love her, care for her, just like you always have done. Everything will fall into its place.”

Deep down, he knew Eddie was right. But there was this feeling of fear of the unknown inside his body, making him feel anxious with everything he did. “But is that enough?” his voice was on the edge of breaking. Eddie simply patted Evan’s shoulder as he disconnected his hand from his friend's shoulder. “I guess you’ll have to see and find that out for yourself bud.” he answered as Eddie’s eyes wandered across the hallway. He motioned with his head, Evan immediately who it was, and what was going to happen.

“Good luck” Eddie said under his breath as he made his way to leave the window of (Y/n). Just when Eddie passed Evan, he quickly patted his shoulder again.

Evan turned around to face the person who was walking towards him. “Mr Buckley” the female voice sounded. “Shall we?” she said as she held out her arm towards the entrance of the hospital room (Y/n) was in.

He took a deep breath in, trying to calm his nerves. He got this. (Y/n) has got this. They were going to be fine. Everything was going to fall into its place.

He followed the doctor and nurse into the room, as the doctor explained what the plan was and what was next. He watched the doctor and nurse do their jobs.

It could take two till twenty four hours for her to actually open her eyes. He didn’t care if he needed to wait a hundred hours for her to wake up, he would stay with her until she woke up. He didn’t want her to wake up in an empty hospital room.

-

Evan was tossing and turning, trying to find back a comfortable position in the chair to doze off in again. He pushed himself up, with his eyes squeezed slightly open because of the small amount of light that was peeking through.

He rubbed his eyes for a second as he tried to adjust his eyes to the brightness of the light. Getting some sleep out of the corner of his eyes that annoyed him. But just as he turned to find a comfortable spot to sleep in, he could hear a small, soft cough.

Wait he was alone right? With (Y/n)?

He shot up out his chair as his eyes wandered towards his fiancé. She was trying to breathe on her own over the tube. But the second he came closer to the bed, he could see her eyelids lift.

He couldn’t do anything but watch her, her eyes kept on opening and closing. With every time they did that, the gap between the lids became bigger and bigger. Her head rolled to the side. Evan could feel her eyes burn into his skin as she finally found him.

A wide smile spread across his face, this was where he had waited for these past days. He placed his hand onto the headboard from the hospital bed she was in and clicked on the emergency button. “Hey” he panted. He didn’t know what to say. He had waited so long, and he had so much time to think of something. But here he was, speechless.

She gasped. When she realized she couldn’t speak, her right hand wandered towards her mouth. “No, no, no” he said as he grabbed her hand and he could see the panic building in her eyes. “It’s okay, just don’t try to talk.” he says as he keeps her hand in his, placing it on his chest as he loosened his grip on her hand.

Slowly, her hand wandered from his chest towards his cheek. Her fingers tracing over his skin as he could see her eyes softening when tears filled her eyes. She remembered him.

He leaned into her touch, placing a kiss on the inside of her wrist. “It’s okay.. everything will fall into its place” he sighed as he grabbed her hand once more, and kissed the top of it. “I’m here” he whispered.

[torpublishinggroup]

"Warning Signs Your Machines Are Trying to Kill You!" by TJ Klune

(Legally, I’m required to tell you that when smart phones first became popular, I bought one and then asked for the address of the app store because I thought it was a physical location I had to go to in order to download apps and not something already on your phone. Also, I was recently told I speak like an old person so as a warning, there will not be any slang you youths typically hear, especially on Tumblr. Any slang I’ve learned in the last five years has been against my will. I still don’t know what FOMO means, and I don’t care.)

1. Oh no! You and your family are trying to enjoy a movie night, but Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) wants a sacrifice at the altar of their god, BeeZos. Should this happen, do not attempt to give Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) a cantaloupe with googly-eyes on it and say that it is your baby. Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) knows the difference between fruit and children. Instead, ask the machine to order dog food, and it will forget about eating humans for a little while.

2. If you own a very fancy vehicle that can drive itself, always make sure to carry a brick. That way, when the car locks you inside and attempts to drive you off a cliff into a gas station, you can break the window using the brick. You will then have to jump out, but make sure you do so in time so you can watch the wicked-ass explosion when the car hits the gas station, and you can revel in your victory over your car.

3. This one will hurt. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Chances are, you’re reading this on your phone right this second. To be safe, after you’ve finished reading this post and have clicked on the affiliated links to purchase my books, you should throw your phone into a volcano and then move to South Dakota where there are no machines, only wind and cows. That way, when everyone else gets the 5GZombieVirus that people on Twitter (I’m not calling it the other thing, shut up) seem to think is real, you’ll be safe with your cows on a windy day.

4. Get rid of your air fryer. Don’t ask me why, just do it. Red flags all around. Danger, danger.

5. Do you know of the Clapper? That thing first launched in the late 20th century (I wrote it that way to make me feel old) where the commercials showed cranky old people unable to reach their light switches, so they got a thing called a Clapper that turns your lights on and off when you clap? Guess what? Those will be the first things to try and kill you. If you love your gram-gram, save her from the Clapper. When she asks why you are destroying it with an ax, tell gram-gram it’s because you love her.

6. Do you live in a smart home? The kind where everything is connected to the internet, including your refrigerator? The refrigerator that holds your perishable foods? And oh, would you look at that: how many ice cubes have you kicked under it rather than picking them up when they fall to the floor? A dozen? A million? The refrigerator remembers. And it will spoil your food in seconds. What then? What are you going to eat? Canned food? Not if the refrigerator falls on top of you!

Unfortunately for you, this is where it must end. I hope this has given you enough information to help you survive the inevitable. If you do not heed my warnings, well. Who cares. I’m not in charge of you. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come complaining to me when gram-gram gets the clap.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Can we have more of “Demon and Angel Brat”? I love those demon twins so much, also I’m wondering how the Phantom family is hadling this, are Sam and Tucker also in to this? Does Jazz approves this prank? (Wondering how Dani or Dan will fut in this too)

Danny gets a phone call.

Damian knew his brother's real life would eventually burst the bubble on their fun, but he was not expecting it to be broken this soon into their prank.

The Fentons, of course, knew of their little joke and had been fine with having to speak to Danny in secret. Since their cover story was that Danny was too sick to be anything but support for the Bats- and even then, he would sometimes head to bed early if he wasn't feeling well- it was easy to find a little corner of the Manor for Danny to call home. Though that was usually at three in the morning, the Fentons didn't seem to mind.

Mr. and Mrs. Fenton even gave ideas to have Danny act out in order to scare the Waynes. Mr. Fenton's favorite was making Drake panic by making Danny suggest they do "Dark Magic" then have it turn out to be harmless fun.

Like claiming to want to make love potions for Dowd and then just making some homemade juice for the teenager. Drake looked like he was having a heart attack when Danny busted out potion bottles and edible glitter.

Mrs Fenton, on the other hand, wanted to focus more on logical details. She asked Danny to make wild claims about what he was allowed to do in the Manor. Since Danny supposedly didn't go out much, she felt that he needed to create great memories around the Manor, and thus Danny convinced whoever happened to be walking by to play games with him.

Thomas had pushed Danny on an office chair for almost four hours while his brother pretended to be an airplane pilot. Damian had later seen Thomas, Brown, and Cain pretending to be a prince and two princess trapped at the top of the stairs as if they were locked away in a tower while Danny fought imaginary knights down below.

He thinks Cain only went along with it because she got to wear a big puffy pink dress. Father had ordered costumes for Danny to play with after his brother got back from the history museum with Todd.

Damian knows Todd and Father were also still attempting to pressure the history museum into installing fake historical events that Danny made up. It wasn't going well, but they were making a decent effort.

Still all this fun had only been over the course of two weeks and that seemed to be far too long for Danny's friends.

Thus, the phone call arrived in the middle of dinner with the entire family twisting towards the "sick" twin. Danny stared at this phone, looking as if he had forgotten it could ring before he clicked the call to connect.

""Excuse me I need to take this." He held it up to his ear while standing from table. "Hey Tuck. What's up?"

Damian watches his brother walk out of the room, tugging along his gas tank and heart pack like it was second nature. The large dining room door closes behind him with a soft click, and a few blissful of seconds follow, before everyone starts demanding answers.

"Who's Tuck?" Ricard accused as Damian dabbed his mouth with napkin "Why is this Tuck calling Danny?"

Now Damian could say the truth, could make it easier on his brother and the family, even he liked a laugh every once in a while. After all he was a twin to a mischievous prankster.

"Tuck, is Danny's ridiculous nickname for Tucker Foley. He's Danny's ex" Damian revealed with a hand wave. The family's faces darken (except for Cain and Alfred. One because she knows he's lying, and the other because he thinks it's healthy to date) "Danny broke up with him after their summer fling, and now Foley is dating their other friend, Samantha Manson. Between you and I, Foley and Manson are carrying a torch for Danny and are likely attempting to include them in a throuple."

"I want everything you can find on Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson," Father snaps at Drake, who already had his tablet out and typing a storm on his travel keyboard. Thankfully, Danny had gotten Gordon to fake a Gotham tech camp so his two friends could visit him in the city soon.

It was so Damian could get to know his friends and so that all three could have a break from ghost hunting, but this would be entertaining to watch.

Damian sips his tea, watching Brown and Todd hiss threats under their breaths while Thomas actively cracks his knuckles. He only did that when he was feeling particularly violent.

Drake lets out a noise that he has only ever heard him make when he's about to blow up a building. He twists his tablet around, banging his other hand on the tabletop aggressively. "Bruce, I think things with Foley were more serious than is appropriate for Danny. He's only fourteen!"

It took every ounce of his training not to burst out laughing. On Drake's tablet is a photo of Danny and Foley cuddling while asleep on the floor. It was posted by Manson with the caption "We made some interesting discoveries tonight!"

He knows she meant the purple back gorilla, but the poor girl just didn't have a way with words like she thought she did.

It's that moment that Danny wanders back in, wearing his normal bright and innocent smile. "Tucker and Sam are coming to Gotham. They want to hang out with me at Lover's Lane!"

Damian slams a hand over his mouth, just barely stopping himself from spewing his tea across the table as his family bristles. Lover's Lane was the best spot in all of Gotham to see the city's lights and had some of the best public gardens. A sight people from a small town like Amity Park would adore to see.

It also earned the nickname Lover's Lane for a very obvious reason, but Damian feels Danny has forgotten that part.

"You are not-"

"-Going to want to meet them wearing the same old clothes. Why don't I take you shopping after you finish eating Master Danny" Alfred cuts father off mid rant, sending everyone a stern glare when the family's all look ready to argue "After all, if your friends who clearly remember how much fun they have with you, it would be a pity to have them erase those good memories with a wardrobe malfunction."

Damian should tell his father to give that man a raise.

[ashlovesfood]

Fast & Fucking Furious!

tags:car hood sex, bruce is shirtless, slight exhibitionism, car project, panties, pounding, p v p, squirting, moaning, grunting, your freaky, pounding, sweat, fluids, pet names, cunnie! why is this so crazy? undressing, marks, kissing, abandoned car projects, ff2

Pretty please ash what’s the link?!◎[▪‿▪]◎

୨⎯DO NOT STEAL,COPY,OR PLAGIARIZE⎯୧

Another project Bruce was working on was his cars, he wanted to experiment with one of the engines. He popped the hood of the Chevrolet Camaro and looked at the parts, deciding what to do with it. His goal was to add a new kink to the vehicle, nitrous oxide to boost the horsepower for fun.

The garage was open, showing off all his collected cars parked in a line. Bruce took his shirt off, leaving himself in a pair of jeans as he worked on the car. A bottle of nitrous oxide had to be mounted in the car, somewhere in the trunk or engine. He leaned forward, wondering where to put it. You were working at your job, stuck at your desk typing away. It wasn’t long until you went home, just a few more hours. Your hands cramped from how long you’ve been hunched over, the bright screen burned into your eyes.

Finally, at last, the clock read 5:00. You clocked out of the building and grabbed your bag, headed for your car. The parking lot was sparse, the few cars parked here and there. The door opened with a click, your body slipped into the driver's side. You turned on the engine, the car revving to life as the lights turned back on.

Your phone dinged with a message, Bruce’s contact texting you. ‘Missed call from Bruce’ ‘Are you coming home yet?’ You replied with a quick message, throwing your phone to the side as you drove out of the lot. Bruce took a moment to look at his phone, seeing your message realizing you were coming home.

His torso was covered in dirt and grease, his hands working on the engine to place the gas inside. The plan was smoothly coming along, time ticking with the clouds moving along the sky. You drove into the driveway, seeing the garage open with the show of multiple cars. “Typical Bruce..”

You parked outside the garage, opening the door to get out. Bruce was hidden from the raised hood, his body leaned over as he worked on the engine. “Bruceyyy.” Your shoes pattered against the tile, his head lifting up to look at you. “Bunny.” He was covered in sweat, the shine of his fluids making you distracted. “I, what’re you working on?..”

You tried your best to maintain eye contact, your mind playing a whole film of memories when Bruce dicked you down.

“Just working on a project, nothing serious.” He slammed the engine down, his hands finding your hips as he lifted you up. You were now sitting on the hood, caged in by Bruce’s meaty frame as he towered over you.

“Can’t stop looking huh?” Maybe, it was obvious. Your thighs clenched together, your face dusted with a slight red. “Uh, maybe…?” Bruce grabbed the fabric of your shirt, ripping it open as buttons flew all over. You gasped, the air hitting your skin as he played with your bra. His fingers were delicate with you compared to the car, his eyes drinking in the sight. You leaned against the hood, hands propped up trying to not slip.

“Bruce..! Not here-..” “Was thinking about fucking you on this car, couldnt get it out of my head.” He slid the top down from your shoulders, the bra covering your chest as the air hugged your skin. Bruce leaned in, biting the crook of your neck as he left a large bite mark. You were whining, legs wrapped around his waist as he licked your earlobe, sucking on the delicate skin. He broke away, a string of saliva connecting from his mouth to your ear.

You, however, wouldn’t leave him hanging. Your hands gripped his shoulders, teeth nibbling on his collarbone, small red and purple marks left behind. Bruce was groaning, leaning into your touch as he grinded against your clothed pussy, the air filled with bunny fucking energy. The garage was still open, the possibility of someone being able to look in making you more aroused.

You feasted on the way Bruce’s skin looked, all marks and bites made by you. He kissed you, clashing with teeth and tongue as you held onto his neck. He undid the clasp of your bra, the flesh bouncing out as your nipples pebbled. “So soft, and bouncy for me, I can't get enough of you..” Bruce grabbed one of your nipples and popped it into his mouth, suckling on the bud like a newborn.

You were trembling with pleasure, waves of desire coursing through your body as he continued his attack on your chest. He moved off on to the other nipple, hand fondling the lone one to give it attention. “Brrucceee!” That’s all it took for you to cum, legs clenched around his torso as you grinded against him, slick creating a wet spot on your panties. “Fucking little minx- grinding against me while I lick your boobs, huh?” Bruce wasn’t any better, his dick begging for attention while he focused on your pleasure.

You moved your hands down towards his jeans, unzipping the zipper revealing his boner hidden by his boxers. You freed his cock, his tip hitting his bellybutton with a loud squelch, the tip twitching.

“Oh shit..!” Bruce pinned you down onto the hood, sliding your pants and panties down in one swift motion. He threw them onto the floor, obsessed with your cute little pussy glistening with juices. “All for me, my good girl. Fuckkkk..” Bruce leaned down, taking kitten licks at your folds teasing you, your back arching. You were shivering, the tiny amount of energy making you frustrated yet fulfilled.

You grabbed his head and shoved him between your thighs, his lips having a sloppy french kiss make out session with your pussy. “Right theree! Oh ‘m cumming..!!!” Squirt, all over his nose, cheekbones and chin. It dripped down all onto the shiny surface of the hood, his mouth curving into a smirk. “Taste so sweet. Like candy.”

Bruce pushed your legs apart, slapping his tip onto your clit. You were buzzing, full of need and horniness that only Bruce could satisfy. His tip leaked with precum, his length being lubed by your juices. It was one big leaky mess, his cock entering your hole inch by inch, your mind focused on the delicious stretch. It was mind numbing, as Bruce moved alllll the way out only to push hard into your hole, your cervix being kissed. You were cockdrunk, your mouth drooling side to side and your eyes rolled all the way back, all from Bruce.

He was mind boggled, the way you sucked him in like a vortex was insanity to him. Your nails made angry red scratch marks on his back, the lines running down his skin making him turned on. “More, oh- give me more angel.” Bruce was plowing into your cunnie, the juices making a puddle below your ass cheeks.

Sweat ran down both your bodies, his hands lifting you up as he fucked you in the air. There was a body print on the hood from you, the combination of juices and sweat left on the surface. His dick was reaching all the way up into your lungs, your mouth opened in a cute ‘o’ as you leaned into him.

“Cummminnnggggg!” Bruce came along with you, balls clenching as he emptied his seed into you. “Gonna get you all swollen with my seed- make you glowing for me.!!” His arms bear hugged you, your body shaking with pleasure as you felt his sperm fill you up. Car project was abandoned after..

⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧ ⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧ ⑅୨୧

A/N Really tried for this one but idk how to feel.. also went to a party and ended up getting a headache \m/(>.<)\m/

[fawnsuga]

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎢𓎟𓎡⠀ ݁🕯️⠀⠀eric david harris⠀⠀၇ৎܵ⠀𓎢𓎟𓎡

Eric David Harris Date of Birth: April 9, 1981 Height: 5 feet 6.5 inches Weight: 135-140 pounds

Eric David Harris was the 18-year-old son of Wayne Nelson Harris and Katherine (Kathy) Ann [Pool] Harris. He had one sibling, a brother named Kevin Harris, who was 21 at the time of Eric's passing.

Born in Wichita, Kansas, Eric grew up in a family with Colorado roots. His father, Wayne Harris, served in the Air Force as a transport pilot, holding various positions at multiple bases across Ohio, Michigan, and New York. Katherine Harris was a stay-at-home mother. The family resided in Plattsburgh, New York, until Wayne was forced to retire from the military in 1993 due to budget cuts. At his 20th high school reunion, Wayne expressed that his primary goal in life was to raise two good sons.

Eric was described as a "normal" teenager during his time in Plattsburgh. Former classmate Kyle Ross remarked, "My mouth just dropped. He was a typical kid. He didn't seem anything like what is portrayed on TV."

In July 1993, the Harris family relocated to Colorado, where Wayne secured a position with Flight Safety Services Corporation in Englewood, and Kathy found work as a caterer. Eric attended Ken Caryl Middle School, where he met Dylan Klebold in the seventh or eighth grade. They became close friends and spent considerable time together.

Initially, the Harrises rented their home for three years after moving to Colorado. Eric began attending Columbine High School in 1995. In 1996, the family purchased a $180,000 home just south of Columbine High School on Pierce Street. Eric met Brooks Brown on the school bus, with their residences in close proximity. Although Dylan had been friends with Brooks since first grade, they had lost touch when they attended different schools. Eric also met Nate Dykeman in Spanish class during the eighth grade, introducing him to Dylan, and forming a close-knit group of friends.

During his freshman year, Eric met Tiffany Typher in German class and took her to homecoming, which was their only date. When she declined to go out with him again, Eric staged a fake suicide, lying on the ground with fake blood. He later wrote in her yearbook (and Nate Dykeman's): "Ich bin Gott" - "I am God." In January 1997, during their sophomore year at Columbine, Eric and Dylan were arrested for breaking into a van but were released early due to positive participation in a juvenile diversion program.

That same year, Eric and Dylan were employed at Blackjack Pizza, where they later purchased one of the firearms used in the Columbine shootings from Mark Manes, a connection facilitated by their co-worker, Philip Duran. Robyn Anderson, a close friend of Dylan's, purchased two shotguns and a rifle, which she then provided to the teenagers who would later carry out the Columbine High School shooting. Eric and Dylan recorded a video of themselves using the firearms at Rampart Range with Manes and his friend Jessica Miklich, practicing with sawed-off shotguns and using bowling pins and pine trees as targets.

Eric and Dylan engaged in various mischiefs at Blackjack Pizza, including setting off fireworks in the back alley and booby-trapping the fence. They even set a fire in the kitchen sink on one occasion. Chris Morris, one of Eric's best friends, also worked at Blackjack Pizza and was arrested on April 20 due to suspicions of involvement in the shootings, though he was later cleared.

In 1997, Wayne Harris began keeping a diary documenting Eric's behavioral issues, which escalated after a falling out with Brooks Brown. According to Brooks' book, No Easy Answers: The Truth Behind Death at Columbine High School, the conflict began when Brooks was consistently late in giving Eric rides to school. After Eric confronted him multiple times, Brooks, who was not receiving gas money, suggested Eric find another ride. In retaliation, Eric broke Brooks' windshield with a rock and terrorized the Brown household with pranks, including placing firecrackers on their windowsill. Eric documented these actions in his personal journals and on websites.

The harassment prompted the Browns to contact law enforcement and Eric's parents. Although Eric apologized, tensions persisted, particularly after he posted Brooks' phone number in an online rant. This incident marked the beginning of Wayne Harris's documentation of his son's troubling behavior.

In January 1998, Eric and Dylan broke into a van and stole electronic equipment, leading to their arrest and sentencing to community service through the Juvenile Diversion Program. Eric expressed intense anger over this incident in his diary, yet presented a remorseful demeanor to his parents and the judge, resulting in early release from his sentence. Concurrently, Kathy began taking Eric to a therapist to address his anger management issues.

Eric aspired to join the Marines and took steps to apply; however, his application was rejected shortly before the shootings. At the time, he was taking Luvox® (Fluvoxamine maleate), an SSRI antidepressant prescribed for his anger management therapy, and had undergone surgery to correct a sunken sternum.

There are theories suggesting that side effects of Luvox® may have contributed to the tragic events, as many antidepressants now carry warnings about potential increases in violent or suicidal thoughts. Friends reported that Eric may have stopped taking the medication shortly before the rampage, which could have triggered a more violent reaction. Sudden cessation of antidepressants can exacerbate negative side effects and, in some cases, lead to severe outcomes. The autopsy report indicated low therapeutic levels of Luvox® in Eric's system at the time of his death. Luvox® typically has a washout period of about 14 days for a 60 mg/day prescription, with starting dosages generally at 50 mg/day and potentially increasing to 300 mg/day as needed. The drug is highly reactive to other substances, including alcohol and marijuana. Evidence suggests that Eric consumed alcohol and smoked tobacco, and friends indicated he may have used marijuana as well.

Eric was unaware of the rejection of his application. The recruiting officer could not reach him to inform him before the shootings. However, Eric's mother mentioned the drug during his meeting with the recruiter, which may have led him to believe his chances were lost, as he had not disclosed his use of an antidepressant during the application process. Friends indicated that Eric believed he would not be entering the military.

In the years leading up to the shootings, Eric was highly active on the internet, exploring its emerging landscape. Judy Brown, Brooks' mother, noted that she frequently saw Eric sitting in front of his computer, raising concerns about the amount of time he spent online. Eric and Dylan had their computers networked to play Doom together, with Eric maintaining a more substantial online presence. His webpages (under the aliases REB, Rebel, Rebdoomer, Rebdomine) garnered significant attention following the shootings, particularly due to the rants released to the public years after the investigation concluded.

The media's initial focus centered around two specific sites: the Doom II site Eric created around 1996 on WBS, and the WBS site prominently featured by news outlets, which contained only the lyrics to KMFDM's "Son of a Gun." The band distanced itself from the Trenchcoat Mafia and the shooters, as did various individuals listed on Eric's site. Marilyn Manson was also implicated by the media, despite no evidence suggesting he or Dylan were fans of his music. Manson publicly condemned the actions taken at Columbine.

A guest from the goth scene noted during a 20/20 broadcast discussing the shootings, "Yeah, blame the music, the clothes..." This reflects a common narrative where societal issues are attributed to external influences rather than examining the underlying problems within families and educational systems.

Eric participated in discussions on WBS (Web Broadcasting System), a platform that has since merged with the GO network. Copies of Eric's user profile remain accessible from before the merger. He was also an active AOL user, with screenshots of his profiles and notes available.

Other websites created by Eric included "Jo Mamma," a page featuring 'yo mama' jokes, along with another WBS page of KMFDM lyrics and a more explicit, threatening site on AOL that included rants about Brooks Brown and violent intentions toward Littleton. Brooks' parents, informed by Dylan Klebold of the website, filed a police report.

Following the Browns' report of internet threats, Eric began documenting his plans to attack Columbine. Speculation suggests they initially intended to carry out the attack on April 19 to coincide with the anniversaries of the Oklahoma City bombing and the Waco siege but later chose April 20 to align with the release of KMFDM's album Adios or potentially due to it being Hitler's birthday. The exact reasoning behind their chosen date remains unclear.

The so-called "graphic content" referenced by the media primarily consisted of images from Doom II. The "demonic pictures" in Eric's notebook were also mainly from the game. Eric maintained a collection of Doom and Quake graphics on his AOL website, but the more alarming content was the rants he published about his disdain for the world, targeting everyone, not just specific groups.

In the months leading up to the shootings, Eric and Dylan recorded their intentions to attack the school and its inhabitants on videotapes (the Basement Tapes), in school assignments, and in journals. Eric created detailed floor plans of Columbine and noted peak times in the lunchroom. In videos filmed in Eric's basement bedroom, where they showcased their weapons fitting under their trench coats, they expressed contempt for their peers, referencing individuals by name.

Eric died in the library from a self-inflicted shotgun wound, placing the barrel in his mouth before pulling the trigger. Conspiracy theories surrounding the circumstances of his and Dylan's deaths have circulated, fueled by the release of forensic photographs. However, these images were taken after thorough searches by the bomb squad, and neither body appeared in the positions initially found.

The Harris family relocated from Littleton shortly after the shootings, seeking to rebuild their lives. While they appreciate the support of well-wishers, they do not wish to be contacted regarding Columbine.

April 9, 1981 - April 20, 1999 Eric was an intelligent individual with a high GPA and a keen interest in not only playing video games but also in designing his own levels. He developed several levels for Doom and Quake, sharing them with friends from Columbine and online acquaintances. His friends characterized him as humorous and bright, though he could become intensely angry.

Eric and Dylan were classmates in a video production course, collaborating on home videos with friends.

Eric had a fondness for animals, particularly his Yorkshire Terrier, Sparky, who suffered from seizures. He also had a strong affinity for cats. His friend Alyssa Sechler noted that her cat adored Eric, and they shared a special bond. Alyssa described Eric as someone who greeted her with warm hugs, though he struggled with self-confidence and often felt inferior to his peers.

Like Dylan, Eric faced challenges with depression and feelings of worthlessness, particularly in the school environment, where he was subjected to ridicule by jocks.

He did not have a funeral, and if a private memorial service was held, details have never been disclosed. According to Jeffrey Toobin's book Homegrown, Eric was cremated, and his ashes were stored in an evidence locker under the supervision of private investigator Ellis Armistead, hired by the Harris family.

On June 11, 2001, Armistead placed the remains of Timothy McVeigh into a locker next to Eric Harris's cremains. Although there are rumors that Eric's ashes remain in this locker, the source does not confirm their current status.

On April 21, 1999, Eric Harris's body was taken directly to the Jefferson County Coroner's Office in Golden, CO, located at 800 Jefferson County Parkway #1000, Golden, CO 80401.

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

[clioerato]

Three times Eddie was broken (one time he paid back a debt.)

Gas can and sandwich.

“…shit shit shit shit shit…”

Thoughts swarmed through Eddie’s head like a flock of pissed-off birds. He banged his forehead against the steering wheel of the dead van a couple of times, but not out of despair — no, that emotion had long packed its bags and left. This was just exhaustion. Bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion that weighed as much as a whole damn life.

The van had broken down somewhere between Indy and Hawkins. Old faithful — except it hadn’t been faithful since the late 70s. The fuel gauge had been unreliable for years, part of the van’s charming, self-destructive personality. Normally, Eddie kept an emergency gas can in the back. Normally, he was ready for this.

Not today.

He’d burned through the last of the gas on the way to Indianapolis, chasing the fool’s gold that was Corroded Coffin’s first ever real gig. A suicidal move, financially speaking. They hadn’t made a dime — just torched through every cent the band had scrounged over the past six months. Gareth had thrown in the last $30, hard-earned mowing lawns for Hawkins suburbanites.

And now, on the way home, Eddie was stranded on some godforsaken stretch of road. Nearest gas station? Miles. Dozens of them. And even if he could get there, he was already twenty bucks in the red. His stomach twisted painfully — not just from stress, but real, angry hunger.

“…fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…”

Eddie had a couple of options. None of them good. He could try to find a payphone — which meant abandoning the van and wandering god knows where. Or wait and hope someone drove by. This particular road wasn’t exactly busy, though. It was a forgotten thread leading into Hawkins, not even connected to the main highway.

And anyway, Eddie Munson hated asking for help.

He let his hands fall onto the wheel and dropped his head, eyes burning. But he blinked the tears away, refusing to cry. Not now. Not over this. The memory of the warm, buzzing crowd in Indy still clung to him — how for one second, they’d made him feel seen, like he mattered. Now, life was back to rubbing his face in the dirt.

Just… give him a minute. One damn minute to mourn his broke, miserable life.

His last cigarette had been smoked yesterday.

A knock on the van window made him jolt.

Eddie blinked. Another knock.

He turned his head — and no freaking way. No. Freaking. Way.

Somehow, in the cacophony of his own mind, he hadn’t noticed another car pull up. A shiny, spotless BMW. He’d recognize that car anywhere. The royal chariot of King Steve. And there he was, in the flesh, knocking on his window like this was normal.

Eddie (exhaling, trying to gather himself): “Harrington?”

Steve (frowning slightly): “Um… do I know you? Sorry, you look kinda familiar. You okay in there?”

Eddie: “Oh, do not concern yourself, Your Majesty. This humble peasant has merely run out of fuel. Go on, ride off into the sunset. I’ll just rot here in your kingdom’s ditch.”

Steve (still frowning): “Uh…”

Eddie wasn’t expecting anything from Steve Harrington — the golden-boy jock, rich kid, probably still coasting on daddy’s money and senior year glory. Mercy wasn’t exactly part of the Harrington brand.

So when Steve just… turned, got back in his car, and drove off?

Well.

Yeah, that’s right, Eds. What the hell were you expecting from that guy?

A fresh wave of helplessness washed over him, darker than before. He wasn’t even mad. He just… had nothing left. He slumped back against the seat, letting it swallow him whole. Maybe if he sat there long enough, the universe would forget he existed.

Time blurred.

Another knock at the driver’s door snapped him out of his haze.

Eddie turned, heart suddenly tight in his chest — and there was Harrington again. Except this time, he wasn’t just standing there awkwardly. He was crouching down, placing something by the van.

Eddie looked.

Two gas cans.

Eddie: “…uh…”

Steve: “Sorry, I’m kind of running late. Think you can pour it in yourself?”

Eddie: “…uh… yeah? Thanks?”

Steve: “No problem. Try to get home safe, alright?”

Eddie couldn’t speak. His throat locked up with a stupid mix of shame and gratitude. Meanwhile, Harrington walked back to his BMW, opened the passenger door, grabbed something, and came back.

He handed Eddie a brown paper bag through the window.

Steve: “This is for you too. Don’t know how long you’ve been out here. Sorry I can’t stay — really gotta run. Take care, man.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Eddie sat frozen for a second, the paper bag crinkling in his hands. He watched the car disappear into the distance, the heat of embarrassment still burning behind his eyes.

Inside the bag?

Two sandwiches. And a cherry Coke.

2. Stitches and Insurance

It happened after that gig—the one with the bigger stage. Their band was starting to make waves, at least in the kind of circles that lived off bootlegs and basement posters. Steve helped with this, oddly enough. Eddie simply left him in the bar for half an hour on their last trip to Indy, and returned to a table where three people were sitting with Steve, one of whom was the owner of the music venue. But bigger stages came with bigger risks. And this one bit back.

Eddie cut his hand. Badly.

He swore he’d stitch it up himself. Ever since the whole Vecna nightmare—the hospital, the endless tests, the morphine haze—he’d sworn off hospitals entirely. What he hated even more than the IV drips and fluorescent lights was the bill. He’d caught a glimpse of it once, a flash of paper on Uncle Wayne’s cluttered kitchen table. All those zeros behind a number no one in Hawkins should ever have to see.

Eddie had let out a string of expletives so strong, it probably cracked a window. And then he drove straight to Hopper’s office, still limping. The government owed them. Hell, wiping out Eddie’s medical debt should’ve been the bare minimum for silence. A couple stitches? They should’ve thrown in a house in the suburbs and a damn parade.

But no—Eddie had learned the hard way: it’s cheaper to die at home than heal in a hospital.

He told all of that to Steve—who, incidentally, was at his very first Corroded Coffin show. Eddie kind of felt bad. Ruined the guy’s night with blood leaking down his arm like a horror movie prop.

Steve didn’t argue. He just drove him to the hospital.

Two hours later, Eddie stormed out, still cursing under his breath. Bandaged. Stitched. And holding a fresh, infuriating piece of paper.

Then he found out it had already been paid.

Eddie: "Are you out of your goddamn mind?!"

Steve: "You were bleeding and rambling about stardust and destiny. Sorry for grounding you, Vulcan."

Eddie (irritated but begrudgingly charmed): "You spoiled, trust-fund prick."

Steve: "I work at a video store."

Eddie: "You have a checkbook with no bottom, Harrington."

Steve: "Idiot parents. Occasionally useful. But I’m actually pretty decent at saving."

Eddie (quieter now): "Steve..."

Steve (more serious): «Eds… did you really think I’d let you bleed out just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help?"

Eddie swallows hard. He doesn’t answer. Just stands there for a second too long. Then, as Steve walks back toward the car, Eddie tosses it over his shoulder like it costs him nothing:

Eddie: "Thanks, Harrington. I’ll pay you back. As soon as I sign with a label."

Steve (grinning): "I’m holding you to that, rising star."

3. Ice Cream and Laundry Detergent

Steve just shows up at Eddie’s trailer, arms full of grocery bags, fumbling with the door and trying to kick it shut behind him without dropping anything.

Eddie: “What the hell is all this?”

Steve: “You said you were out of detergent. And coffee. And, swear to God, I watched Henderson steal your last bag of chips yesterday. I’ve been picking the kids up from your place three days in a row, and your cabinets are still a desert.”

Eddie: “Wait—have you been snooping through my cabinets?”

Steve: “It’s the kids.”

Eddie: “Jesus, Steve. That’s not a reason to throw money at me. I’m not your kept man.”

Steve (half-lies): “Eddie, I did it for the kids. Max hangs out here more than at home, she feels safe with you. Dustin’s over like every other day. Will’s finally planning his first DND campaign after the break. This—this is life happening. Kids.”

Eddie doesn’t buy it. Yeah, his finances are a dumpster fire the size of Indiana, but that doesn’t mean Steve has to play savior. He’ll figure it out. He’s an adult, goddammit.

But something about it hits him in the gut—something ugly and hot, tangled in guilt. He feels like a loser, like he’s bleeding self-worth out of every pore. Writing their first real album is eating up every hour, and even then, he’s behind. Part of him wonders if things would be easier—for both of them—if he just gave it all up. If he shelved the band, got a normal job, stopped pretending the dream meant something.

He knows none of this is Steve’s fault. But that ache in his chest—the thrum of self-hate and fear—is louder than reason. It’s just another reminder that Eddie has nothing to give Steve. Not really. Nothing but his stupid, breakable heart, which probably isn’t worth a damn. All he ever does is take.

Eddie can’t…

They differ. Loudly.

Steve leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

Ten minutes later, Eddie pulls out a pint of chocolate hazelnut ice cream from one of the bags. His favorite.

He sits on the windowsill, eats straight from the tub, and whispers into the dark:

Eddie: “You’re an idiot. And I love you. But you’re an idiot.”

+1. The Key to a New Life

It’s been almost two years. Eddie’s now the frontman of Corroded Coffin, a rock band climbing charts faster than anyone saw coming. His posters hang in teenage bedrooms across the country, and cassette tapes with their live recordings sell out weekly. He’s got a voice that cuts like broken glass and a heart that only beats for two things: music and Steve.

Steve smiles during their last call before Christmas. Eddie’s on tour. Steve—now officially the band’s manager, somehow infuriatingly good at handling everything from venue bookings to financials—isn’t with him for one reason: the kids. It’s senior year for their shrimp troop, and Christmas is just around the corner. Eddie promises to be back in three weeks, just in time for the holidays.

The call comes when Steve expects it the least. He picks up the phone, already half-distracted.

Woman: "Richard Harrington?" Steve: "Hi, this is Steve Harrington. Richard’s not home. You might wanna try his assistant—should I give you her number?" Woman: "No, I’m at the right address. Hawkins, [street name]?" Steve: "Yeah... that’s right." Woman: "My name is Abigail Richardson. I’m a realtor. I’m calling to let you know we’ve found buyers for the house. They’d like to schedule a viewing next week. I’ll call the day before to confirm." Steve: "...Wait. Abigail, sorry—what buyers? I didn’t know the house was even on the market." Abigail: "It’s been listed for two months now. I have all the notarized paperwork. I’ll bring them by so you can take a look. I’d recommend contacting Richard Harrington directly." Steve: "Right. Okay. Thanks." Abigail: "I’ll be in touch. Have a nice day."

Steve lowers the phone slowly, like it’s too heavy for his hand. His eyes roam the room as if he can anchor himself with a single glance. His parents had been here two months ago. Said nothing. Had they already known then? Had they already planned to erase him like a smudge?

There weren’t many good memories in that house. The few warm ones he had were wrapped in Eddie’s cigarette smoke, long talks with Robin on the staircase, and the laughter of kids who saw him as something solid. Still, it was his house.

The only one he’d ever had.

The following week passes in a haze. He can’t reach his parents. The viewing happens. A young couple, bright-eyed and expecting, signs papers that same afternoon. Steve hopes they break the curse of the cold Harrington mansion.

Hopper helps go over the paperwork. Then claps a firm hand on Steve’s back and mutters, “There’ll always be a room for you here, kid.” He’s given a week to pack. It all fits into three boxes, which he hauls to the Byers-Hopper place.

Everything blurs. Steve moves through days like they’re underwater. He retreats into himself, thick with the echo of old voices: Useless. Forgotten. Nothing. Now he’s homeless, too.

He doesn’t tell Eddie. He can’t. The guy’s on tour, living off adrenaline and noise. He doesn’t tell Robin either—she’s got finals, and anyway, he doesn’t want to say it. Words make things real, and Steve’s not ready to admit how badly it all hurts.

Christmas creeps closer, slow and bright.

One afternoon, Steve hears tires crunching on gravel. He looks out the window and sees it—Eddie’s new van. Not the old rustbucket, but the one they bought with their first real tour paycheck.

Eddie (storming inside): “Steve, what the hell? I go by your house and there are strangers living there! What’s going on?” Steve (half-laughing, half-crumbling): “Well, guess I’m officially free from the Harringtons. Like the wind. Or decaf coffee—completely useless.” Eddie (smirking): “Jesus, Steve. I had plans for Christmas, sweetheart. You’re messing with my whole script here."

(He pulls out a small box.)

Eddie: “So, uh... I’ve got a two-bedroom in Indy now. It’s not much. But... I figured it was time to return the favor.” Steve: “Are you... asking me to move in?” Eddie (offering the box): “It’s yours. A key. To a place where someone waits for you. Where you’re home. I know you weren’t planning to leave Hawkins yet—hell, kids. But… I want you in my life. Always. Forever. If you want me to. But if you don’t, that second room... it’s yours. Whenever. However. We can even make it legal if that helps. Because, Steve... it’s my turn to give back.”

Steve stares at him, eyes stinging.

Steve: “You don’t owe me anything. But somehow... you’ve already given me more than my parents ever did.” Eddie (softly): “Because you deserve it. Every damn thing. And more. I love you.»

Steve: "I love you too. Let's get out of this town after Christmas. We'll be just a phone call away from the kids."

[jellybonbons]

Sweet Tooth or Sweet Cravings?

Kenji Sato x fem!reader

Summary: When a chocolate company sent Ken a PR package, he ate the chocolates without thoroughly inspecting them, and, well...things took an unexpected turn.

CW: 18+ (mdni), established relationship, aphrodisiac chocolates, implied panty sniffing, masturbation, fingering, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex, pet names.

Words: 1.5k

AN: this is just an excuse for me to write him like he's in heat :3

Today 4:12 PM

Ken <3: can you come home? its an emergency

The moment you saw his text, your heart skipped a beat. Without a second thought, you clocked out early and made a beeline for the parking lot. You had never driven so fast in your life, and you were sure you almost broke the gas pedal from how hard your heels were pressing on it. 

The city streets blurred past you, your mind racing with worry and a thousand scenarios of what could have gone wrong. You barely noticed the honking horns or the changing traffic lights, and your focus was solely on getting to Ken as quickly as possible.

As you reached Ken's home, you punched in the code with shaking fingers, and the door swung open almost instantly. You dropped your bag near the entrance, not caring where it landed, and stumbled inside, quickly sliding off your heels as you hurried to find him.

Rounding the corner into the living room, you saw Ken from behind, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each laboured breath. "Ken, are you ok–" The sight caught you off guard. There he was, panting heavily, glistening with sweat, eyes half-closed as he stroked his cock. It stood proudly and flushed in a deep red colour. His other hand clutched your panty from this morning.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry you have to–fuck,” the moment he saw you, his body tensed, and with a guttural moan, he finally came, his cum coating his hand and abdomen.

As he sprawled against the couch, you took a moment to look around the living room. Your eyes landed on a box of half-eaten chocolates on the coffee table. Curiosity piqued, you picked up the box and examined it closely. The label read "Aphrodisiac Chocolates" in a small, elegant script. Realisation dawned on you, and you couldn't help but let out a small, incredulous laugh. Ken had unknowingly consumed aphrodisiacs, and now the situation made a lot more sense.

You sat down next to him on the couch, eyes wide with concern. "Ken, what the hell? Are you okay?"

"I—I’m really sorry. I didn’t expect this... I think I overdid it with those chocolates."

"Those weren’t just chocolates, were they?"

"No, they were aphrodisiac chocolates. I didn’t check the label...clearly, I should have," he growled, frustration evident in his voice as he discarded your panty from his hand.

"Yeah, I can see that. It’s obvious they did more than just satisfy a sweet tooth," you smirked, leaning closer, your breath teasing against his ear.

"You’re not helping, you know." His eyes narrowed at you, a mix of frustration and desire burning within them.

Before you could respond, Ken, overwhelmed by the effects and your teasing, pulled you down onto him. He ground his hard-on between your thighs, his breath coming out in ragged bursts as he tried to find some relief.

"Ken, what—" You gasped, your voice filled with surprise.

"I need you. Right now. Please, help me." His voice was husky and urgent, his need unmistakable.

–

You lost track of time, the sky outside turning dark as the house became dimly lit. Your clothes were strewn everywhere, and he had taken you on every possible surface – from the coffee table to the expansive living room window overlooking the ocean, and now on his bed. 

He didn't hesitate for a moment, his desire insatiable. Somehow, he even managed to feed you the aphrodisiac chocolates during heated kisses, deepening the intensity of your connection with each touch and taste that seemed impossible to quench.

"Baby," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. He had your hands pinned against the headboard, his grip firm and unyielding. His chest pressed against your back, warm and solid, as his fingers delved into your wet cunt, moving with a relentless rhythm that left you breathless.

The squelching sound filled the room, adding to the erotic symphony that drove him even harder. Your back arched with every expert stroke, each thrust of his fingers hitting the perfect spot over and over, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Ken, wait!” you gasped, feeling a strange pressure building within you. “I feel like I’m gonna pee.”

He didn’t falter for a second, his fingers maintaining their relentless rhythm. “Just let go, princess,” he murmured, his voice a mix of encouragement and command. “The sheets are already dirty anyway.”

His words and the relentless thrusting of his fingers broke down your resistance. With a cry of both pleasure and relief, you let go, your body trembling as you squirted, the sensation overwhelming. Ken’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he continued to work you through it, his fingers drenched in your release.

“Atta girl,” he murmured, his voice low and approving. “Just like that.”

As Ken finally released your hands, you let them slide down, resting them beside you—the dampness of the wet sheets clinging uncomfortably to your skin, causing you to grimace. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the rapid pace of your breathing, and allowed yourself a moment to regain composure.

Ken, still insatiable and eager, looked at you with a determined glint in his eyes. “It’s my turn now,” he said, his voice rough with need. You, sore and spent, protested weakly, “Baby, I’m so beat... I don’t know if I can handle much more.”

He silenced your concerns with a reassuring smile and a quick, decisive movement. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he said, his tone filled with confidence. With a firm grip, he lifted you effortlessly and positioned you on his lap, your legs spread and held against your chest. He manoeuvred you into a perfect angle and guided his hard cock to your still-sensitive cunt.

“Fuck, Ken, too deep!” you cried out, your voice trembling as you struggled to adjust to the overwhelming sensation. Saliva dribbled from your lips, a testament to the intense pleasure and exhaustion.

Ken's voice was a low, teasing murmur against your ear. “But you love it when I go deep like this,” he cooed, his tone dripping with mockery. He squeezed you closer, his grip firm and possessive, restricting your movements and trapping you in place. 

The way he moved, controlling every motion and maximising your pleasure, made you feel like nothing more than his personal plaything, his fleshlight. Each powerful thrust sent your breasts bouncing. Your head leaned back against him, the sensation overwhelming as his movements were both demanding and dominant, ensuring you felt every inch of him, leaving you breathless and helpless under his command.

Finally, with a guttural groan that reverberated through the room, Ken’s body tensed, and a shudder ran through him as he reached his peak. His hot cum spilling deeply inside you, a wave of warmth that filled you completely.

He collapsed against you, his breath coming in deep, shuddering gasps as he buried his face in your hair, staying fully inside you. As he caught his breath, he managed to joke through his ragged breaths, “I think I’ll have to give that chocolate company a review —'5 stars for effectiveness!'”

You weakly slapped his arms, a small, affectionate smile tugging at your lips despite the fatigue. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, barely able to muster the energy to respond.

He then gently shifted his position, moving his hand to cup your chin and guide your face towards his. His eyes, soft and tender, met yours as he leaned in to press a gentle, affectionate kiss to your lips. 

Pulling back slightly, he whispered with a teasing smile, “But you love me.” 

“Unfortunately.” You responded with a playful sigh.

–

You were scrolling through your phone during lunch, your thoughts drifting as you ate, when a familiar company caught your eye. You paused, intrigued by a screenshot of a review with the username Notkensato07. The review was under a popular chocolate company, and as you read the lines, you couldn’t help but groan.

Notkensato07: ★★★★★

"Absolutely incredible! I tried the aphrodisiac chocolates and they were so effective, my girlfriend’s still recovering. If you want a taste of heaven—and maybe a little bit of chaos—this is your go-to. 5 stars, but if I could give it more, I would!

⤷ 241 replies

g0urmetguru: More than 5, huh? That’s some serious praise. I’m curious, how long did the effects last? Asking for a friend 😉

sillysocks76: IS THIS KEN SATO?

ChefRemyDaRat: Wow, talk about a rave review! If it’s that good, I’m buying a box for sure 🔥

chocolateroses: LMAOOO! I hope your girlfriend’s recovery is going well, man!

SweetToothSteve: Wow, this sounds wild! I’ve heard aphrodisiac chocolates are hit-or-miss, but this sounds like a game-changer. Guess I’ll be adding these to my shopping list!

jellybonbons: Nah, that’s cap.

  ⤷ chikinuggie: You’re just salty because you got no hoes.

   ⤷jellybonbons:  (comment removed for harassment) 

     ⤷jellybonbons: Wtf? why is my comment removed n not chikin for bullying?!

      ⤷ chikinuggie: The truth hurts, doesn’t it?

        ⤷ SweetToothSteve: Alright, kids, play nice! 😂

–

Shocked by the boldness of his review, you yelled out his name in disbelief, “SATO!”

Ken, who had been skipping around the living room as part of his exercise routine, froze mid-skip. The sudden outburst made him lose his rhythm, causing him to trip over his own feet. 

“Oh shit!”

Dividers by: @/chilumitos

[agreeewrites]

safe with me | R.G.

feat. Rick Grimes x sunshine!reader cw: MDNI 18+, established relationship, mentions of traumatic incident with family annihilation & suicide (you are responsible for the content you consume), mentions of child death, hurt/comfort masterlist

“Carol!” Rick called, jogging across the lawn to catch her after the town meeting. The sun blazed down, ruthless and disorienting after hours of being indoors. “How'd it go?” He asked, referring to the run she led this morning.

They both knew he was asking how it went for you specifically.

Rick didn't care about much else besides you and his kids these days. Alexandria ran just fine without him worrying himself sick; you’d shown him that.

Carol grimaced. “She hasn't come to find you?”

Rick's jaw clenched, his heart beating a bit faster. “Would I be askin’ if she did?”

“She, ah—she’s fine,” Carol clarified, sensing his mounting alarm. “But there was a—an incident.”

“What kind of incident?” He growled.

“We were clearing a property, and she went into the house first—”

His anger flared. “Why would you let her—”

“Because everyone matters, Rick,” she snapped. “I can't treat her special because she's yours.”

He grit his teeth. He knew Carol already paid you extra mind, so there was no sense arguing it.

“She volunteered anyhow, so I sent her. There were no Biters, but…” Carol took a shaking breath. “She found the family in the dining room, parents and two little boys. Practically nothin’ left of the bodies, half-eaten dinners in front of ‘em, rotten through. Mom’s brains all over the wall—”

“Alright, alright,” Rick cut her off, scrubbing a hand over his face. Fucking brutal. Rick had seen plenty gruesome scenes like it, but you—somehow you'd held onto your heart through the end of the world.

“I don't think she took it well, didn't speak the rest of the run. Passed her ration off to Rosita. Had that stare, y’know?”

Rick nodded. Had that stare himself on countless occasions. “She went home?”

“Far as I know,” Carol affirmed. Rick went to head that way when Carol grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. “Don't push her, she'll talk when she's ready.”

“I know, I know," he assuaged. “I’ll go easy.”

Carol nodded and released him, and he started down the road, breaking into a jog when he was sure no one was looking.

When he reached your shared house, sun-bleached siding and half-roasted grass, he slipped through the front door, finding Carl reading by the lone fan in the living room. The house was eerily quiet, save the cordant hum of the whirling blades, it's cedar bones heavy on its foundation.

“Hey,” Rick hissed, getting Carl's attention. “How is she?”

Carl shrugged. “Makin’ lunch. Not singing’ like usual,” was all the boy offered before turning back to his comic.

“Alright, take your sister and go on to Michonne's for a bit,” he said, leaving no room for argument in his tone.

Carl huffed his displeasure, but did as he was told, trudging upstairs to fetch Judith while Rick moved towards the kitchen. He waited to hear the scampering of Judith's footsteps and the click of the door shutting behind them before pushing through the small door into the kitchen.

You were staring down at the blue flames of the gas stove, an open can of soup in your hand. Completely frozen, besides your yellow sundress fluttering around your bare legs.

Normally, the sound of Rick's boots up the steps was enough to have you bounding out the front door and throwing yourself into his arms, even if he'd only been to the neighbors and back. And you always sang while you cooked, some scratched-to-shit record backing you up.

His heart cracked.

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, careful not to startle you.

You blinked, bleary eyes focusing on the can of soup, then flicking back up to the empty pot. Trying to connect the dots of what you'd been doing. “I'm making lunch,” you said, barely above a whisper, and he wasn't sure if you were talking to him or yourself.

“I see, can I help you?” He asked, moving a little further into the room. Turning down the knob on the stove to reduce the lapis flame.

You shook yourself, straightening with a too-wide smile. “I've got it!” You chirped, pouring the can into the pot. It spat and sputtered, entirely too hot. Rick snatched it off the burner, putting his body between you and the wrathful soup so you didn't get burned. “Shit! Let me get some towels.” You hurried away, frenetic energy wafting from you, spooked like a hare.

He knew that with one wrong move, it could tip into full-blown panic. “Honey, easy,” he soothed, catching you by the arms when your turned back towards him. “No harm, no foul.” He gently took the stack of towels from you, six for a few splatters of broth, and set them in the counter.

“I need to—” Your eyes were glazing again, hazy as the memory creeped back in.

“Don't worry about lunch, darlin’. I sent ‘em off to Michonne's for a little while.” He took your arms again, rubbing up and down your biceps to try and keep you with him.

“Oh,” you mumbled, glassy eyes drifting just past him at the wallpaper. “Why?” Your eyes refocused on him, brow furrowing slightly.

He leaned down to kiss the wrinkle away. “Too nice a’day for kids to stay inside. And thought you and I could spend some time together.”

“Oh,” you repeated. You fell quiet for a moment, and he could practically see the gears turning in your head, like you were trying to dredge something up you'd forgotten.

He waited patiently, sliding his hands down to hold yours.

“How was the meeting?” You finally asked, though your voice retained that same listless quality.

“Went fine. Same shit, different folks,” he said, shifting both your hands to his right one so he could bring the left up to cradle your face. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” You leaned into his palm, a rough, calloused thing against your supple skin, and your lashes lowered a bit, fluttery like moth wings. Something warm unfurled in his chest.

“C’mon, let me fix you somethin’ to eat,” he said, kissing your forehead again to hide the frown pulling at his mouth. He guided you back over to the stove, patting on the counter beside it. Your favorite spot whenever he got a wild hair to cook.

You hopped up, obedient little thing, and smoothed your skirt, crossing your dangling ankles.

He felt your eyes following him while he put on one of your favorite albums and resumed lunch preparations. He tried to keep his movements slow, fluid, easily trackable in your addled mind. After a few minutes though, you drifted off again, staring at a cracked tile on the floor.

Once the soup was simmering, he stepped towards you, moving to stand between your knees. “Pretty girl,” he hummed, tilting your chin up to look at him. “Why don't you tell me what's goin' on?”

You shook your head, tugging your chin from his fingers and turning your head away from him.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips along your hairline, balmy and salt-tinged from the heat. “You know I'll never let anythin’ happen to you,” he murmured. “Nothin’ out there can hurt you, or them, here.” He smoothed his hands over your ribs, the swell of your hips. “Not while I'm around.”

Tears welled in your eyes. That's a start, he thought. Out here, that numbness will eat you alive. Feeling is the only way to keep going.

“I’d rather die than let anything happen to them,” you whispered.

“I know, baby. I know.” He pulled you in for a proper hug, your face buried into the meat of his shoulder. “You take such good care of us, and I'm so grateful,” he said into your hair, kissing your crown. “You're a dream come true, darlin’.”

You cracked, a whimper eeking through your teeth, then another, until you were sobbing into his chest, fingers digging into the cotton of his shirt.

He sighed in relief, petting your hair while you purged the pent up emotions. “That's a good girl, there ya’ go. Let it all go,” he encouraged, your tears seeping through his shirt and cooling his sun-warmed skin. “You're alright now, I've gotcha.”

“She poisoned them,” you sobbed, thumping his chest with your fist. Barely hard enough for him to register. “She must have been so desperate—”

“This world makes people do monstrous things,” he said, flattening your fist out against his chest, willing his heart to beat slow and steady under your palm. “We can't try to understand it.”

“Do you think they knew?” You looked up at him, lashes dark and spiked with tears, eyes almost feverishly bright. Pleading.

He shook his head, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, deeply sorry that he couldn't give you the answers you needed. “We can't know, darlin’. I’m sorry.”

“We should have buried them,” you whispered, looking towards the window. “It wasn't right, leaving them like that.”

Rick never loved you more than he did in that moment, his heart leaping up his throat, choking him with affection. “I'll take care of it, baby. Don't you worry.” He couldn't resist pressing a kiss to your temple, your forehead, your nose, adoring you so much it ached.

“You will?” You turned back to him, fingers tightening on his shirt.

“Daryl and I will go as soon as I know you're alright,” he promised.

“But—”

“No buts.” He placed a thumb over your lips, quieting your protest. Another sign that you were feeling a little more like your usual, stubborn self. “Now, think you can eat a little f’me?”

You eyed the soup warily as he clicked off the eye and fetched a spoon, returning quickly back between your legs.

He dipped the spoon into the broth, lifting a small amount to your lips. “Just a few bites?”

You folded your lips together and shook your head.

“Baby,” he sighed. “You need to eat somethin’. I won't go until you do.”

But instead of indignation flashing in your eyes, he saw a prickle of fear as you stared at the spoon. Guilt curdled in his gut.

“Here.” He put the spoon in his mouth, eating the bite instead, then scooped a second bite, offering it to you again. “We'll eat it together.”

You didn't look convinced, but you parted your lips anyways, and he fed you a small sip.

“Good girl,” he said, taking the rest of the bite himself. “You trust me, don't you? Would I ever give you something that was going to hurt you? Hurt Carl or Judith?”

“No,” you mumbled, accepting a second, larger bite. “You wouldn't.”

“I'll share every bite with you if that's what you need, whatever I gotta do to make you feel safe,” he promised.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his. He set the spoon down to hold your waist again, tugging you to the edge of the counter to feel your body press fully against his, his arms braced across you back.

“Promise me that if I ever start to lose it, if I ever pose a danger to those kids—” your voice splintered, brittle with emotion. “That you'll do whatever you need to keep them safe.”

He couldn't even think about it, the fleeting idea enough to make his chest constrict painfully, his stomach roil. “I'll do what I need to do to keep all three of you safe,” he promised instead.

“Deal,” you sighed, lifting your head to meet his eyes.

He shifted that final inch forward, catching your lips in a tender, top-lip kiss. You softened, nails raking through the hair at the nape of his neck as he drew you closer, languishing in the honeyed taste of you. Finally relaxing now that he was sure you'd be alright.

After a moment, you broke the kiss to breathe, your nose congested from crying. He grazed his thumb over your bitten lip, smiling softly at your slightly dazed expression.

“You're safe with me, darlin’,” he assured. “Always.”

© agreeeeeeeeeee 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[gssoftwareposts]

The Benefits of Connecting a Gas Pipeline for Home Kitchen Solutions

Several households now utilize the convenience of having a gas pipeline connected to their homes to provide a steady supply of gas for cooking. A gas connection pipeline for home kitchen solutions is the ideal option for meeting your everyday cooking needs. This article will highlight the benefits of connecting a gas pipeline for kitchen solutions, as well as how to do it and any associated costs.

Advantages of Using a Gas Pipeline for Kitchen Solutions

There are several advantages of using a gas pipeline for home kitchen solutions:

● Reliability: With a gas pipe line for kitchensolutions, you can rely on a steady, reliable source of energy for your cooking. This is a great alternative to other sources of fuel, such as electric stoves, which can be unreliable and can be subject to power outages or natural disasters.

● Cost savings: When you connect to a gas pipeline, you save money by cutting out the middleman. Instead of paying for gas delivered to your house, you are able to access it directly from the pipeline. This can save you money on your monthly energy bills.

● Safety: Gas pipeline for home kitchen solutions is a much safer option than other sources of energy, such as propane or kerosene. Gas is less flammable and less likely to cause a fire.

● Easy to install: Installing a gas pipe line for kitchen solutions is an easy and relatively inexpensive process. This makes it a great option for people who want to save money and don't want to have to go through the hassle of installing a new stove or other appliance.

How to Connect a Gas Pipeline for Home Kitchen Solutions

The process of connecting a gas pipeline for home kitchen solutions is relatively simple.

● Get in touch with your local gas company: The first step is to contact your local gas provider and get an estimate of how much it will cost to install.  Some gas companies may even provide discounts for new customers.

● Choose the right gas line: There are different types of gas pipe lines available, so it's important to choose the right one for your needs. Your local gas company can help you choose the right one and provide an estimate of how much it will cost to install.

● Have an expert install it: Once you have chosen the right gas line, it is essential to have it installed by a professional. This is important because it can be dangerous to install yourself, as mistakes can easily be made.

● Connect the appliance: Once the gas line is installed, you will need to connect it to your appliance. This is generally a very simple process that most homeowners can do themselves, but it's always best to seek professional advice in case of any complications.

Costs of Connecting a Gas Pipeline for Home Kitchen Solutions

The costs of installing a gas pipeline for home kitchen solutions will depend on several factors, such as the length of the gas line, the type of gas line used and the connection fees. As mentioned earlier, it is important to get in touch with your local gas company to get an accurate estimate of the cost.

Conclusion

Connecting a gas pipeline for home kitchen solutions is a great option for households that want a reliable and cost-effective source of gas for cooking. Although there is a cost associated with connecting the pipeline, the savings you make in the long run makes it a worthwhile investment. If you are considering connecting a pipeline for kitchen solutions, it is advised to consult with a professional in order to ensure the process is done correctly and safely.

[returnofeternity]

synopsis. you go too far in the caves.

pairing: lottie matthews x gn!reader

genre: angst and fluff.

warnings. drug use, suffocation, passing out, character death for like a second?

wc: 2,246

· · 𐂂 · ·

you should have just stayed in bed and waited for her to come back. you knew where she was and what she was doing, and you knew she needed to be alone, but you couldn't sleep so you went looking for her.

she was doing exactly what you thought she was doing, aka praying to the Wilderness, but she was crying. and you hate it when she cries. and you hate how miserable she looked when she told you she couldn't hear It and that It didn't listen. you wanted to make her happy. so, you blurted out the only thing that's been cheering her up for the past few weeks.

"take me to the caves. i want to see more."

to be quite frank, you really dislike all these cave sessions lottie's been making you do. tripping out in the wilderness with shrooms was fine, cool even, but you can't count how many times you've almost died in the caves. the worst part is that it's all for naught. your 'visions' make no sense to you. most of the time they're just hallucinations of you and lottie back at home with some weird shit sprinkled in instead of visions of what the Wilderness desires. that's what these trips have been for; to hear and feel the Wilderness. and you do! you're connecting with it just like lottie wants, but you're not seeing It. you feel like you're failing lottie.

and you'd do anything to make her happy.

so going back to the caves with the gas leak it is.

lottie tightens the rope around your waist, looking up at you for confirmation that it's tight enough. you nod in return and she gives you a delicate smile, dropping her end of the rope so she can pick up the candle. the flame lights her face perfectly, and you get lost in her big, brown eyes as she moves a piece of her hair from out of her face.

"you should go deeper." she says, her voice gentle and calm. "maybe you'll be able to see more."

you don't like this idea.

"okay," you agree, your fingers nervously fiddling with the rope tied around your waist. "but is the rope even long enough?"

she looks down to eye the length and nods when she looks back at you. "it should be. just go as far as you can, okay? i got you." she reassures you, leaning in for a short kiss that makes all your worries melt away.

lottie pulls her mask up to cover her nose and mouth and bends down to pick up the rope before walking back to kneel by the entrance, rope tight in her hand. you let out a shaky breath and turn your back to her, wondering what the fuck you keep getting yourself into.

as you start walking into the cave, you hear lottie call out from behind, her voice echoing loudly off the walls. "listen to what's happening around you."

you mumble back an "okay" like she can hear you and steady yourself against the wall as you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to tune into the Wilderness. your shoes scuff against some rocks as you feel your way around and you gasp as a flash of you on a cliff pops into your mind. when you blink your eyes open, you're still in the cave, but it's cold as if the wind is nipping against your nose and cheek. despite the bad feeling you have in your stomach, you venture further into the dark cave. your eyes feel heavy and you keep bumping your shoulder against the wall of the cave because of how disoriented you feel. maybe you should sit down for a second.

you slide down the wall, groaning at the rocks scratching your back, and lift your shirt up to your nose so you can try and breathe properly. your throat burns as you take raggedy breaths and your eyes prickle with tears. this was a horrible idea. maybe you should just head back and make something up to make lottie happy. but if she found out you lied she'd be angry at you. goddammit.

the rope around your waist pulls you forward slightly and you catch yourself with your hands, face grimacing as you breathe in the not-so-fresh air of the cave. weakly, you pat the ground for the rope trailing behind you and tug at once to let lottie know you're okay. you make a retching sound as you move to get up, frothy drool leaking from your lips and onto the cave ground. well, shit, that's never happened before. you'd better hurry and get the fuck out of out here. you can come another time. lottie would understand.

when you get up, reality flashes between that cliff you saw and the cave. it makes you pause, and when you step forward and blink, you're on the cliff. right on the edge. you try to move back but your feet are glued to the ground. the wind blows harshly and makes your eyes well up with tears, and it's only then you realize that you can only move your eyes. everything else is stiff. you try to shout for lottie, but your mouth won't open, and even the choked sob that racks your body doesn't let out. it sounds more like a muffled scream.

the wind blows again but this time it's with more force and it makes you sway back and forth. the feeling makes your stomach sink, and a cold sweat washes over your body. your wide eyes fly to the bottom of the cliff, the clouds and rocks below making it seem like it's millions of miles deep. you start praying for something to wake you up from this hallucination; lottie, the Wilderness, god, who-the-fuck-ever can help you.  

suddenly, just as your body leans forward, about to fall off the cliff, you're back in the caves. you fall down, head bumping against the rocky floor and getting scratched up. your throat tightens and you wheeze, hands reaching up to grab at whatever force is choking you. the feeling is terrible. no matter how hard you try and breathe, you just can't. as the edges of your vision begin to fade to black, you let out a feeble whisper of lottie's name.

· · 𐂂 · ·

lottie tugs at the rope again, heart pounding in her chest when she feels how loose it is. she takes her mask off for a second to call out your name, listening intently for any response back. she hears nothing, and when she pulls the rope down in frustration, it snaps back so easily.

you're not attached to it anymore.

she puts her mask back on so fast that she accidentally scratches her nose. she holds her breath as best as she can as she jogs into the cave, frantically calling out your name and cursing under her breath. lottie tries to tap into the Wilderness, trying to feel where you could be, but she can't seem to sense you anymore. it's like a fading pulse in her head as she takes deep breaths and searches for you.

her eyes tear up and she sniffs, looking around to see if she can spot your body somewhere. there, in the corner, she can see your limp hand. immediately she rushes toward you, dropping to her knees and scooping your weak body into her lap.

"i got you. you're okay, you're okay." she mutters to herself rather than you.

lottie tugs you up and carries you back to the entrance of the cave, her muscles burning as she tries to keep upright and keep you in her arms despite the lack of fresh air in her lungs. she collapses near the opening and apologizes to your unconscious body for accidentally hurting you. her hands cradle your face and she shakes you, body prickling with fear when she notices just how limp you are.

she puts her hands over your heart and starts to pray. "bring them back to us. bring them back to us." your pulse slowly weakens more as she repeats those words over and over, and she gets desperate. she looks around the cave before her eyes land on the flickering candle. "fuck it."

she grasps onto the can that's a candle and slices her hand on the sharp edge, instantly dripping her blood onto your body and moving into a prayer position with her bloody hand over your heart.

"bring them back to me. bring them back to me. bring them back. please. please."

you come back into consciousness screaming for lottie and clawing at your throat. you can finally breathe but barely. lottie's there to shush you and stroke your head, grabbing you by your shirt to tug you into her arms.

"'it's okay, it's okay, you're safe. i got you." she whispers to you, soothingly rubbing your back and helping you get your breathing back to normal. she pushes you back gently and strokes your cheek, her thumb wiping your freshly falling tears.

"i'm sorry, i tried to go as far as i could." your voice is hoarse as you speak and it hurts. you cling onto her warm arms and rub her skin with your thumbs to try and calm yourself down but you can't keep your sobs in. she pulls you back in for a hug and shakes her head. you stay there for a few moments, thinking about whether you should tell her what you saw or stay silent. "i wanna go back now, please."

maybe you'll tell her later.

· · 𐂂 · ·

lottie holds your hand all the way back to the huts, even when you told her you needed to take a piss. it's endearing but still uncomfortable. didn't help the fact that she didn't take her eyes off you either.

the walk back is silent, and you know she feels guilty because she's not saying anything. you want her to say something, but your throat hurts too much to speak, so you just rub her thumb and pull her closer to your side.

when you get back to the shelter, she sits you down on the bed and tells you to stay put while she runs and gets a rag and bowl of water. you don't know why she's cleaning you up when she's the one who's bleeding more than you, but it feels nice to be taken care of by her. honestly, you almost forget about the scratches on your head until you hiss at the slight pain as she cleans them up. lottie leaves again to get her herb paste made from heliotropes and other various plants to put on your wounds, cooing at you quietly when you whine from how much it stings.

"let me put it on your hand?" you suggest after she sets the paste down on the bed and kisses your nose. "it looks bad."

she nods and gives you her hand, and you clean it with some water first before applying the purple-ish paste. lottie bites her lip as you gently rub it across the nasty gash on her palm, and you apologize softly as you finish with it. you bring her hand to your lips so you can kiss it and help her onto your lap and into bed with you, cuddling her side protectively.

"we should take a few days off so you can rest before we go back." lottie mumbles, her fingers dancing along the side of your arm.

you sigh and shut your eyes, stomach swarming with uneasy feelings. "lott, i don't think i want to do this anymore. i mean, fuck, i almost died in there."

she sits up on her arm and leans over you, pieces of her hair tickling your face. "i know, but we need to figure out what the Wilderness wants. you're the closest to It now. It'll tell you what It needs, you just need to learn how to understand It. i can teach you."

you shake your head and gulp down some tears, turning your head away from her and inhaling heavily. "i was on some cliff before i passed out. i couldn't move at all. the vision stopped right as i fell from it, and then that's when i started choking. i don't know what it means. i don't know what any of my visions mean."

lottie frowns and leans over you some more so she can try and catch your gaze, and when you look back at her, her eyes are just as sad as you are. she bends down and captures your lips in a reassuring kiss, resting her head on your forehead as she whispers: "it's okay. we'll figure it out together. you just have to keep trying. we'll be safer next time."

your shoulders slump back against the blankets in defeat. you know she's just being pushy because wants the best for the group, but sometimes you wish she'd listen. you give a half-assed smile and nod, your fingers prodding at the holes in her mesh shirt as you try not to think about how nervous you are to go back.

"can you make me that herb tea? the one that always helps me sleep..." you mumble, feeling like you just need to rest for weeks to forget about today.