#also yes i know cpr isn’t administered this way AT ALL

[dinosaurtsukki]

housemates with karasuno

okay this is so fucking long because i love karasuno so much i’d get up to a million antics with them

how you ended up living with them: 

you were probably friends with the entire volleyball team in high school since you were one of the three (cute) managers so when they all suggested living together you were like ‘sure why not? how bad could it be?’

honestly this is so unrealistic but we’re enjoying ourselves aren’t we? 

since there are so many of you in one single house there are probably like 3 to 4 people in a single room

the original room arrangement was that the first-years and second-years would be in separate rooms but ennoshita was like ‘no way are you putting me in the same room as noya and tanaka i will die’

so you, ennoshita, yamaguchi, and tsukishima are all in another room (the second-most peaceful room in the house)

daichi, sugawara, and asahi are all together in another room because they’re pretty tight

and hinata, kageyama, along with tanaka and noya share twin bunk beds in the fourth room

now let’s get into living with this chaotic bunch:

daichi is undoubtedly the head of household. at first he didn’t want to have to manage that on top of everything else but one night he was making a chart for chores (along with small stickers of everyone’s faces) and finally accepted that he was in charge of the house

he’s def the type to manipulate the chore chart just a little bit. if tanaka or noya managed to piss him off, daichi will just slide their face under ‘dish duty’ and they’re none the wiser

at first he feels terrible but then tanaka and noya accidentally break a window and daichi just thinks that maybe authoritarianism isn’t so bad after all

jk guys authoritarianism is bad down with the government

you, on the other hand, know very well what daichi is doing but instead of tattling you just appeal to his good side and before you know it, you haven’t done any chores for an entire year

ASAHI IS THE TYPE OF HOUSEMATE TO BRING YOU UP A PLATE OF SLICED FRUIT WITHOUT EVEN ASKING AHHH

when the clock hits four, its cut fruit time and there are different fruits for every day and asahi just brings up plates of nice cut fruit for everyone

you kind of wonder if asahi ever gets tired of slicing fruit for EVERYONE IN THE HOUSE until you see him split open a pineapple with his bare hands

also he has such a huge closet but if you want a snazzy outfit all you have to do is knock on his shared room and he’ll whip one up for you

okay you guys are probably thinking that sugawara is the mom of the household but unfortunately he is a gemini and therefore even satan fears him

suga’s the one who cooks for everyone but when he’s in the kitchen you had better stay away because he gets intTENSE. he probably uses this big ass knife

potholders? suga doesn’t know her. he uses his bare hands to get trays and stuff out of the oven. just watching him cook stresses you out so nobody watches him cook

but his cuisine is exquisite nobody has complaints

i feel like their room probably has a fuck ton of snacks with asahi’s fruit-cutting, suga’s cooking skills and i bet daichi has a stash of snacks that he keeps from noya and tanaka (it’s under his mattress, that’s why his back hurts)

you, ennoshita, tsukishima, and yamaguchi have by far the cleanest room though (just slightly cleaner than the third-years’ room because they have snack wrappers) and your roommates are all workaholics

your room is pretty much ‘bookshelves and studyblr aesthetic’ except for ennoshita’s CPR doll that stays in a corner of the room looking creepy and out of place but you don’t have a closet to put it in

yamaguchi swears that it’s haunted because it changes positions every time he wakes up in the morning and he keeps trying to convince his roommates about it

little does he know tsukki and ennoshita like to move the CPR doll around to scare him because they’re like that

tbh you are not a fan of the CPR doll either but that doesn’t mean you won’t play with it by dressing it up 

these three are such workaholics that there’s literally only one person asleep there at a time and you like studying there because of the Intense Productive Energy

they even have their own espresso machine and a minifridge full of Red Bull

tsukki is the best at waking you up he’ll literally grip your shoulders and shake you or spray you with water

you can tell he enjoys it and you hate it so much but it does get your papers going

the one thing about this group is that they forget this little thing called ‘self-care’ because they work all the time (well except for yamaguchi who knows how to put on a sheet mask once in a while)

that means you’ll sometimes be knocking on their door with some of asahi’s Sliced Fruit or some instant ramen you whipped up yourself

ennoshita also has a habit of passing out in random places so it takes you and yamaguchi to haul him up to his bed

you also use this opportunity to tuck in his CPR doll next to him in bed because why not?

the chaotic, noisy members of the household are all relegated to one room for the good of the entire house and its downstairs where the walls are thick

these guys are the bunk-bed sharing kind of people but they kind of just switch beds depending on how they feel like it

tanaka: hey dude, is it ok if i top for tonight?

noya: oh yeah sure! no problem!

you: 👁👄👁

suga: they’re talking about bunk beds

hinata and kageyama like to play video games during their breaks but they only have one game and that’s Naruto Shippuden: Ultimate Ninja Storm 3

i have an obsession with naruto don’t @ me

that’s because they bought a playstation on craigslist and it came with one game and that was it

you like to play with them when you’re taking a break and kageyama’s always the one who loses and he gets so frustrated with himself that you let him win at times just so he feels good

hinata always uses hinata when he plays but he’s also the type to elbow kageyama or purposely swerve a hand in your face when he’s playing 

even though sugamama is in charge of the kitchen, noya and hinata do like to experiment with cooking from time to time and if daichi is in a good mood he’ll indulge them

they’ll even rope you in on their shenanigans and pretty soon you’re making a casserole out of pepperoni and cheetos just in time for sugawara to come in and see what happened to his kitchen

it usually ends with all of you guys just ordering pizza and you having to clean the kitchen with noya and hinata

house incident: ennoshita’s CPR doll that ACTUALLY MIGHT be haunted

okay i know that i already wrote about ennoshita’s cpr doll being not haunted and that tsukki and ennoshita just like to mess with it but IMAGINE IT ACTUALLY BEING HAUNTED

it starts out with yamaguchi getting mad at tsukki or ennoshita for putting the cpr doll in his bed while he was asleep and they were both like ‘no seriously we didn’t do it’

and you could vouch for them because you were the last one to fall asleep in your room and the CPR doll was way in ennoshita’s side of the room (yamaguchi believes you cause you’re the only person he trusts in the room)

you and yamaguchi begin to think that something strange is going on and like ‘is it just me or are those dead, plastic eyes somehow following my every move?’

it gets to the point that you have to turn the plastic doll around the face the wall when you’re studying

and then, you begin to notice that the doll is nearer to your bed when you wake up in the morning and again, neither tsukishima nor ennoshita touched it

because of this you now stay over at daichi, asahi, and sugawara’s room because you’re so creeped out by the doll and also because they have snacks

and then an Incident happens wherein noya and tanaka, who are both doing a first-aid class, decide to secretly use the doll while no one is around at home

although noya and tanaka trying to practice cpr by themselves is hilarious

just visualize tanaka trying to administer cpr while dueting ‘staying alive’ with noya

they both take a break and turn away from the doll for one second only to see it standing upright when they turn right back

tanaka: that doll just moved on its own, right?

noya: yeah, pretty much

that’s when you and yamaguchi come home and see the cpr doll with tanaka and noya looking very afraid

you: the doll’s haunted isn’t it?

yamaguchi: I KNEW IT !!

daichi comes home to the four of you trying to dispose of the doll by fitting it into a box and gets mad at everyone because you can’t just do that to ennoshita’s stuff

but then he sees all of you looking clearly in distress and decides to call for a house meeting about ennoshita’s haunted doll

asahi brings sliced fruit

tsukishima and kageyama very firmly talk about how it’s not possible which is weird because it’s something they agree on for once

daichi: well, where did you get this doll, ennoshita? ennoshita: i got it for cheap at an old antique store. the owner was super intent to get rid of it so i bought it

you, tanaka, yamaguchi, and noya: 👁👄👁

daichi: even i don’t believe in ghosts but damn ennoshita what were you thinking?

and then sugawara who has been eerily quiet this entire time brings out a ouija board and goes ‘LET’S EXORCISE THIS BITCH’

a few minutes later you all are set up in the living room with candles, the ouija board, and the cpr doll

tsukishima’s just there to livestream everything (STORYTIME: my dumb housemates think this doll is haunted)

you, sugawara, and hinata are in charge of the seance (hinata ironically drew the shortest straw and was forced to participate)

sugawara: spirit of the cpr doll, what is your name?

the triangle piece on the board starts moving, you are looking at your friends in shock, asahi has fainted. the triangle piece stops at the word ‘yes’

you: oh my god this ghost is an idiot

daichi: all in favor of getting rid of this doll?

everyone except ennoshita raises their hands

sugawara is already on the phone with the current owners of the warren museum

you: why do you have their number memorized?

sugawara: ,,, reasons

the cpr doll is picked up the next day. kageyama pokes at the doll and goes ‘you’re just a doll, cpr doll. you can’t do anything’. asahi feels sorry that it’s gonna be displayed naked in the museum and gives the doll a little fedora hat

also ennoshita is compensated for the doll and now has enough money to buy AN ACTUAL, LEGIT CPR DOLL from AN ACTUAL, LEGIT CPR DOLL FACTORY

you and yamaguchi still hate it

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan @therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh @charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! au #haikyuu!! headcanons #hq!! headcanons #hq headcanons #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq!! scenarios #hq scenarios #haikyuu!! crack #hq!! crack #hq crack #haikyuu!! housemates au #hq!! housemates au #hq housemates au #karasuno #karasuno scenarios #karasuno headcanons #hinata shouyo #kageyama tobio #yamaguchi tadashi #tsukishima kei #ennoshita chikara #tanaka ryuunosuke #nishinoya yuu #daichi sawamura #sugawara koushi #asahi azumane

[stratus-skye07]

Suga Craze [One] | Suga

[Prologue] [Masterlist]

My whole life has been nothing but an adrenaline rush. There’s never a moment where I feel at peace. When I was younger I’d be jealous of the people that would always say they were bored. Everyday is a hassle for me. Being the daughter of one of the most notorious mafia leaders was one thing, but now being married to the next generation’s mafia leader is a whole new chapter of danger.

“Nurse Min!” One of the other doctors shouts for my assistance. He was bringing in a patient from the ambulance drop off. “He’s going into cardiac arrest, I need you to administer CPR until we get him into the operating room.”

I nod, “Yes, sir.” I hop onto the stretcher, over the patient, to start chest compressions as the other nurse gives him oxygen through intubation.

Being a nurse doesn’t give you any downtime either but I guess that’s more my fault than anything. I wanted to do the opposite of what my dad and my husband do so there’s at least a counteracting cycle to the mayhem in my life.

I maintain the chest compression until the operating room is ready for the patient to go under surgery. My arms are sore and tired but the patient made it through surgery. After resting for a bit to get some of my energy back, I head back onto the floor to continue my duties.

The Hawaiian vacation sadly ended. The paranoia I experienced while on vacation quickly went away and I was able to spend time enjoying myself again. I was a little disappointed that we had to come back but Yoongi and I both have our jobs to do.

I finish up my rounds with Taeyeon as we head back to the nurse’s station.

“I’m still jealous that you got to go to Hawaii. That’s my dream vacation spot. You even have a gorgeous tan.” She says with a pouty face.

“To be honest, it’s something I really needed. It was a good way to spend time with Yoongi.” Obviously, the beginning of our marriage wasn’t the best but after everything we went through we’ve become closer than ever. The trip was another way to fall in love even more.

Taeyeon gasps in excitement,“Speaking of you two lovebirds, have you guys had any thought about bringing kids into the picture?”

The thought of having babies gives me a weird mix of joy and anxiety, “Um, not really.” I respond.

“Don’t you want to have kids?” She asks.

“Of course, but Yoongi and I have jobs that are really time consuming. I wouldn’t feel right leaving our child with a nanny for a majority of their life.”

“Have you hinted about it to him? Maybe he’d be happy about the idea.” She elbows my arm.

I shake my head, “I’d rather not put the idea in his head. It’s more for my sake than his.”

Technically, it was half the truth. I’m mostly worried about the fact that our child would be born in a mafia family, always in constant danger. I remember growing up in that environment and being so scared that my dad would never come home. All the things I’ve seen would be all our child would see. That fear is really what’s stopping me from talking about kids with Yoongi.

Approaching the nurse station, I smile at the sight of a friendly face.

“Hello, Dr. Kim.” I sneak up beside Jin to greet him.

He waves, “Oh hi, Y/N. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to welcome you back from your honeymoon. Things got pretty busy while you were gone.”

I nod leaning my elbows on the counter, “Yeah, I could tell. I’ve been working nonstop since being back.”

“How was it?” He asks,

I want to tell him that it was absolutely fantastic but that little bit of wonder starts ringing in my head. Before I knew that Jin was a part of Bangtan he was my friend and I trusted him so I figure I can start trusting him again.

“Everything was great until I thought I saw something.” I hesitantly say.

“Like what?” He asks with a tone of concern.

I look around to make sure that there aren’t any unwanted ears listening, “For a panicked second, I thought that Yoongi and I were being followed but when I looked again there was no one.”

Jin leans in so only I can hear him speak, “Have you talked about it with Yoongi?”

“Yeah, but he thinks that I was just reliving some sort of trauma from being shot and the stuff with Hyung-Sik.”

Jin nods listening intently, “Do you think what you saw was real?”

I shrug my shoulders, “I don’t know. I know that I saw something but what I don’t know is if it was real or if my mind was just playing tricks on me.”

He looks at me worryingly, “You could be suffering from PTSD.”

“It doesn’t make sense though, Jin.” I explain, “I grew up seeing the worst a kid could see. PTSD doesn’t happen to me.”

“Seeing them is one thing but you were technically dead when you got shot. Near death experiences are more than enough to cause it.”

“I feel fine though. People say I’m glowing since I’ve been back.” I say showing him my newly tan arm.

He shakes his head, “Most people do after a traumatic incident but it can hit you at any time. Just hearing a balloon pop can trigger the sound of the gunshot that pierced your body.”

I sigh at the thought of adding another problem to my list of worries, “So what do I do now?”

“Have you thought about talking to someone like therapy?” He asks.

I nudge his shoulder, “Well what are you here for?”

He waves his hands, “I’m only a doctor not a psychiatrist.”

“Yes, you’re a doctor but you’re also my friend. Who better to talk to?” I say.

“Fine, but in the meantime,” Jin takes out a pen and begins to write on a notepad, “It might be best to start you on some medication just to keep you afloat until we figure this all out.”

“Thanks, Jin.” I take the prescription from him, “Can you do me a favor and not mention this to Yoongi? We’re going to a party tomorrow night and I’d rather not have him worry about me the whole time.”

Jin nods, “You got it.”

At some point tomorrow I’ll have to get the prescription filled. I'm not one to take medication for my problems but if I’m really suffering from PTSD then it wouldn’t hurt to calm my nerves and keep Yoongi from worrying about me.

The following night, I finish getting ready as I shimmy into my black dress. It’s a long off the shoulder mermaid style dress. Yoongi bought it for me among other dresses for these parties. At first, I never liked going to these things especially since I got shot the first time I went to it but it was soon discovered that a lot of the male guests were making compliments about me which made him more prideful in accompanying him.

Just as I'm fixing the front of my dress, I get chills as a familiar hand strokes my spine.

"Do you need help zipping up?" His low voice brushes against my ear.

I chuckle, "You have that question backwards and your hands are cold."

"Your right, I need a place to warm them up." Without warning, Yoongi slides both of his hands into my dress to wrap around my bare waist.

I press my legs together to ease the tingling that has started to yearn for his hands to lower, "Yoongi, if you keep this up we'll be late." I pull his arms away.

Eventually, Yoongi zipped me up with much dismay. We made our entrance to the party. I stayed by Yoongi's side the whole night as he talked business with other mafia leaders and clients. I don't pay much attention to the conversation since I don’t handle any of it. I've learned to accept the fact that I’m here to make Yoongi look good which brings much pride to my ego.

It isn't until Yoongi's grip on my waist gets me alerted. I follow his gaze to see him staring at a man, a gaze that could kill any woman.

"Hello Suga," he bows, greeting Yoongi.

Yoongi reluctantly bows back but something about his demeanor changes as he speaks, "Suho, I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight."

He shrugs, "I've been busy in Japan the past few months. I notice a lot has changed since I’ve been gone."

"Nothing that concerns you has changed." Yoongi remarks instantly.

Suddenly Suho's eyes drifted towards me. "You've finally found a Mrs. Min to settle down with." He extends his hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Suho, leader of EXO."

"I'm Y/N and I'm not sure if I can say the same yet." I take his hand without hesitation just to show my brave side.

“Excuse me for being brave but I was wondering if I could have the honor of this dance with Y/N?”

Yoongi scoffs, “I don’t think so.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Is it not lady’s choice in the matter?”

As much as it annoyed Yoongi, he looked over at me to see my answer. “One dance shouldn’t hurt anyone. I’ll be back, honey.” Yoongi isn’t happy with my decision but he lets me go.

I don’t like to be left in the dark about things. If Suho is some sort of threat to us, I wanna know more about him.

I take Suho’s hand to walk with him towards the floor. I don’t know whether my encounter with Hyung-Sik has made me more brave or stupid but I am curious as to what Suho has hiding up his sleeve.

“So what kind of work have you been doing in Japan, Suho?” I ask.

“I’ve been dealing a lot in exports. It’s a lot of boring stuff compared to what’s been going on here with Bangtan.” Suho smirks at me, “To tell you the truth, ever since I’ve heard about you I’ve been eager to meet you.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Me? I’m nothing special.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement since you managed to save your husband from being killed and in the process cheating death and killing the leader of Park Mafia. I’d say that’s pretty extraordinary to me.”

“Well that’s what happens when you get overconfident in taking something that isn’t yours. It backfires on you.”

Suho’s eyes look passed me to have a little stare down with Yoongi who was watching closely from a distance, “Suga seems to think I want something from Bangtan as if I’m jealous of what he’s accomplished.”

“In all honesty, I grew up in this lifestyle and I know full well that all mafia groups aren’t afraid to take what they want. What makes your ambitions any different?” I ask.

“The truth is I could care less about what he’s doing with his group. My only concern is being a leader to my group and leading them up the ladder.”

Finally, the music slowly ends and I break away from Suho’s hold. Instantly, Yoongi comes up to pull me away by the hip.

Suho smirks, "I hope in the future we can have more time to talk."

Yoongi scoffs, "Any business you have to talk about with her you discuss with me. Now if you'll excuse us."

“You’ve got a keeper, Suga.”

I can tell that Yoongi doesn’t like Suho but for what reason? In comparison from my first meeting with Hyung-Sik, this was more of a calm introduction. Suho never once gave off the vibe that he was after something from me or Bangtan.

"So what's the real reason you don't like Suho." I ask as we make our way towards the bar.

"It's not that I don't like him. He's always been the quiet type and hasn't caused trouble for Bangtan, yet, so I don't trust him." He says side eyeing him.

“I’d have my doubts about it.” There’s surely something mysterious about Suho but I don’t sense it being a threatening thing.

Before Yoongi can respond, I’m caught off guard when I hear a female voice shout his name practically in my ear.

“Yoongi dear!” 

A woman with ash blonde hair, wearing some sort of leather jacket dress hybrid, about the same height as me, minus her heels, comes up to embrace Yoongi in a hug which he reciprocates, to my surprise.

She quickly covers her mouth, “I forgot this is a business party so I have to call you Suga.”

He smiles, “It’s fine. CL this is my wife, Y/N. Babe, this is CL.”

CL turns her attention to me, “So this is Mrs. Min Yoongi.” She shakes my hand fiercely. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I roll my eyes, “Yeah, I seem to be the talk of the town these days.”

She waves me off, “I’m not talking about your encounter with Hyung-Sik. Suga has had his eye on you for awhile.”

“CL is the leader of the 21 Mafia. We met when I was starting to get Bangtan together. Our groups are very strong allies.”

“So I hope that you can consider me like a sister.” She says placing her hand on my shoulder.

I smile from the nice gesture, “Thank you but if Yoongi trusts you then I have no reason to doubt your word for it.”

 “Well whenever you have time to spare, let’s have lunch together, Y/N. We can get to know each other. For now, I’ll say excuse me there’s someone I must speak to before he disappears again.”

CL walks off into the crowd, leaving Yoongi and I alone. CL makes her way across the room, in the same direction Suho left as I lose them in the crowd. I smile sarcastically at Yoongi.

“You talked about me a lot? How come I’ve never heard about CL?” I ask suspiciously.

He shrugs his shoulders, “It never came up and it’s not what you think. Yes, we hooked up a couple of times but nothing more serious than that.”

I take a sip of my drink, “Mhm, I’m sure there wasn’t more.”

Yoongi tilts his head, smirking at me. “Why does it sound like you’re jealous?”

I act like a child and look away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh you don’t? Maybe I should take you home and show you how important you are.” His fingers glide up my thigh, tickling me through the fabric of my dress.

“Anything to leave this place.”

Yoongi takes my hand and leads the way to the parking lot where the driver that brought us here was waiting near the car. Yoongi opens the door for me to get in when I hear him talking to the driver.

“Take the long way home and we’re gonna need some privacy.” Yoongi says while I’m shimmying in.

The driver nods, “Yes, sir.”

Once Yoongi gets in the car beside me, the driver closes up the blacked out window that separates us from him.

“Come here,” Yoongi pulls me to straddle his lap where I’m greeted by a thick bulge coming from his pants.

“Impatient much?” I tease.

“Ever since you put that dress on, I’ve been thinking about what I’d do to you when we get home all night. I could barely concentrate.”

I pout, “I’m sorry. I guess I should take responsibility.”

Yoongi pulls out the hair stick from my bun causing my hair to fall down. Our lips instantly connect as Yoongi���s hands roam down my sides until they reach my thighs. The dress goes up but not high enough as Yoongi aggressively tears the slit further. I gasp at the sudden action, “I really liked this dress.”

“I’ll buy you another one.” He says through heavy breaths.

Yoongi reaches up my thighs, searching my waist for the bikini line of my underwear, but doesn’t find one.

He looks up at me with lustful eyes, “Were you expecting this?”

Licking his bottom lip, I smirk, “No, but I was hoping for it.”

I reach down to undo his pants when I overly force the buckle of his belt causing it to break. Yoongi groans, “I liked that belt buckle.”

I chuckle, “You can buy yourself a new one.”

Opening up his pants, I’m greeted by his fully erected member. His lips continue their seductive attack on my neck, dipping his tongue into my collarbone. I sit further down onto his thighs to glide the lips of my pussy up the length of his cock causing Yoongi to moan into my skin.

I skim my hand from his shoulder, down his torso until I reach the head of his dick. It was already wet at the tip from his precum and along the length from my arousal. I adjust his cock under my entrance as I slowly take in his thickness. 

“Oh fuck,” The movement of the car made it difficult to slowly sink down so I can adjust to his size. 

Yoongi tightens his arms around my waist as the road begins to get bumpier, “I got you, baby.”

I smile giving him a kiss, “I know you do.”

The movement of the car made the feeling all more pleasurable, each drop went deeper than the last. Each intimate moment with Yoongi feels more than just him fucking me. It’s more like him expressing his love and adoration for me. He doesn’t need to say anything to justify that it’s true. Just feeling it is enough.

“I love you, Yoongi.”

He looks me in the eyes keeping his rhythm, “I love you, Y/N.”

I squeeze my knees as far as they would go against Yoongi’s thighs. My walls start to tighten and I can feel Yoongi beginning to throb against me. I clung onto him until the intense blissful feeling reached its peak. My thighs begin to shake from the aftershock of pleasure going through my body, leaving me breathless. I lean my head down onto Yoongi’s shoulder when he let out a chuckle. “Are you still jealous?”

[Two]

#bts #bts au #bts mafia au #bts mafia #bts smut #bts suga #bts suga au #bts suga mafia au #bts suga mafia #bts suga smut #bts yoongi #bts yoongi au #bts yoongi mafia scenario #bts yoongi mafia au #bts yoongi smut

[howtofightwrite]

Q&A: Superheroes, Violence, and Detractors

Why do characters in fiction get mad at heroes like Superman when he is clearly not a threat? Why do ‘good serration laws’ not seem to apply? If I saw someone save a child from a burning building that firemen couldn’t get to, I don’t think I would feel upset or scared at all. You could argue superheroes often use violence, but so do the police and the military, and it wouldn’t be too hard for Superman to join either of those to become legal. Do people only argue against superheroes for conflict?

Without knowing what you’re referring to specifically, this could be kinda tricky.

So, Good Samaritan laws protect you from legal consequences if you try to help someone and some harm occurs to them in the process. So, for example, if you try to administer CPR and break their ribs, you’re not legally liable.

For a superhero, this could potentially protect them from legal repercussions for injuries suffered when they try to save someone from a burning building. I’m saying, “potentially,” because, rather obviously, case law involving superheroes is rather limited. (This isn’t a joke by the way, there is a little bit of case law because of the Phoenix Jones stuff.)

For the record: I am vastly oversimplifying how these work, so don’t take this as legal advice. Also worth remembering that Good Samaritan laws don’t always protect you.

As for why this doesn’t seem to appear in comics, probably because most comic writers don’t have a full understanding of the law. This isn’t really a criticism, the law is a pretty complex topic, and it does fall outside the range of most writers who don’t specialize in that. In fact, courtroom scenes are the frequent bane of Daredevil writers.

So, there’s one huge jump here, Good Samaritan laws do not permit you to use violence. These are designed to protect you from being sued because you broke someone’s ribs. They do not give you permission to attack someone else.

There’s also a minor irony here in that it’s impossible for Superman to join either the military or police because he can’t, really, undergo a physical. I’d stick this under trivia, rather than a serious issue though.

Police and military do have the ability to use violence in the course of their work, but that is not without significant restrictions. Just because you’re a cop doesn’t mean you have carte blanch to inflict violence as you see fit. In some ways, in spite of having more powerful weapons, their options are even more restricted. So, while you can have a cop who’s secretly a superhero, you can’t, really, have a police superhero who uses force indiscriminately.

Yes, I realize Robocop (1987) subverts that statement. It’s kinda the point of the film.

There’s also plenty of superheroes who are cops in their day job, but then moonlight as superheroes to do things they can’t normally. In the real world (and most superhero comics), that is illegal.

Police are granted more authority, but that authority comes with procedures which are designed to protect the rights of innocent civilians. While it’s easy to create hypothetical situations where a cop knows they have the guilty party, and elect to break the law to stop them, in the real world, that kind of behavior can also allow a lazy cop to target someone who is innocent, simply to make themselves look better to their bosses, or protect themselves from embarrassment.

A superhero who uses violence indiscriminately is no better than a criminal. Just because you have the power to kill someone doesn’t grant you the right to do so. In the event that you’re dealing with superheroes who are so powerful they cannot be constrained by conventional law enforcement, you do have a real problem.

Another problem is that fights between significantly powerful heroes can result in a lot of collateral damage. We’re talking about billions of dollars to repair the city’s infrastructure because an alien decided it was time to throw down with someone else from his home planet.

So, two kinds of “heroes.”

You have low power (or unpowered) characters who are basically humans with some extra perks going out and killing one another. There’s no magic way of saying, “oh, yeah, that one was the good guy.” Especially when you’re rolling up on a scene where one guy decided to kill dozens of people. Turns out the victims were drug dealers, but that doesn’t tell you that the person doing the killing was a good person and not just a new rival.

You have high power, godlike, characters like Superman who have a real danger of tearing the city apart. While characters like Superman tend to be pretty careful with their power, there are plenty of examples of superheroes in a similar weight-class who don’t pay much attention to how much damage they do when they’re punching each other through buildings. At that point, it doesn’t really matter from a practical stand point who’s good, or who’s bad, when both parties pose a significant threat to people going about their daily lives.

In both cases, you also have a real risk of a hero being mislead, either by deliberate misdirection, or simply jumping to the wrong conclusion and making a mess of a situation.

There are a few things that can help. A superhero who is more careful about their use of force can be viewed by the police in a more positive light. Characters like Superman and Batman enjoy strong relationships with the local police, and even characters like Daredevil have a respected status, because of their reputation. In the extreme example, because of his meticulous approach, even The Punisher is often viewed positively by police in his world, even though what he’s doing is extremely illegal.

It’s also possible to have a superhero like Hellboy or Nick Fury who is, officially, part of a governmental organization specifically tasked with handling threats that conventional law enforcement is unable to.

As for people hating superheros? That can be from a lot of different causes. The simplest answer may simply be that the superhero in question has a reputation. This could be they’ve made mistakes in the past, and jumped to conclusions, with tragic results. Could be their powers come from some, “evil,” source. Could be someone holds a grudge against them, or playing them as the bad guy just sells papers. It’s not a short list.

A superhero’s origins could have some significance in setting. One example is Lex Luthor: who views Superman as a threat to humanity. How coherent this is varies, but there is some logic to his position. Kryptonian refugees include some incredibly dangerous supervillains, and even Superman isn’t infallible, so Luthor’s position has some merits, even if he is a textbook supervillain.

When you’re writing antagonists for your superheroes, it’s important to parse out why characters might be opposed to your heroes. Rational grievances are better for your story.

If your superhero just killed a bunch of people without much provocation; that’s going to get some push back.

-Starke

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Q&A: Superheroes, Violence, and Detractors was originally published on How to Fight Write.

#Starke is not a lawyer #writing advice #writing reference #writing superheroes

[pro-bee]

Ziva David Week Day 2: Favourite episode

I’m gonna cheat here and pick 2, because they go together: Hiatus Part 1 & 2.

(Once again, all screencaps courtesy of NCIS Source. Part 1 and Part 2)

I love Ziva in these two episodes, because we get insight into her feelings in a way we haven’t really so far in the series at this point, and I think it sets up so much of what comes later on, arguably even into the present day.

Yes, the story focuses mainly on Gibbs’ and his amnesia, and Ziva doesn’t have as large a role in these episodes as she would later on, but her scenes pack a punch, and her presence is what ultimately brings the Gibbs they all know and love back. 

We get to see Ziva run the whole gamut of emotions, from lighthearted to devastated to snarky to angry to compassionate, and each moment is allowed its own time to shine. It’s quite surprised watching this with the benefit of hindsight to see how integral her role is to the story, especially towards Gibbs, given that at this point she is the newest team member. As we come to learn, though, she also has the most unique connection of any of them to their fearless leader.

I love how the episode opens up with the Three Musketeers on what they think is just another stakeout, teasing each other about movies and generally being idiots.

I mean, how adorable is Ziva when Tony makes the “Sound of Music” reference and she lights up, because she loves that movie? It’s a shame Tony shushed her when she was about to belt out the theme, because as we now know, Ziva’s got some pipes on her. (If only you knew, Tony.)

Ziva was allowed to be jokey and funny and even girly at times in the early episodes, and it’s moments like this where you can actually see how young Ziva is, despite her demeanour. She is competent and professional, but she is also only what, 23 at this point? Most young women her age are still hanging out with their friends at bars on weekends between studying for finals or working their entry-level jobs, whereas she’s trying to save the world from bad guys. She’s so serious so much of the time that it tickles me when we get to see this playful side to her, and not in the “flirty with Tony until he starts sweating” kind of way, but in an almost childlike, joyful manner.

Of course, it’s short-lived in this episode, because Gibbs gets himself blown up right in front of them and all hell breaks loose.

After that, we see Ziva go right into professional mode, and we bump into the first of many conflicts about the outside world’s assumptions about her.

Ducky is the first (of many) to question her ability to feel affection and compassion, when he is astounded that she didn’t ask the paramedics which hospital they took Gibbs to. Ziva rightfully answers that she had a job to do, that once she made sure Gibbs was being taken care of by medical professionals, she then moved onto her job, which was to immediately secure the crime scene -- which is exactly what Gibbs would have done. She knew he was in good hands so she worked on what she was good at, because she had a mission to accomplish.

(lol sidebar, I had my first aid recert the other week and the trainer was emphasizing how your job as first on the scene is to administer cpr until the medical professionals arrive, but when they do take over, your job is done, you can’t carry that with you because you don’t have the training they do, you do your best and that’s enough -- and I feel like that’s exactly the mindset Ziva has.)

Of course, once Ziva pointedly tells him she was a little busy dealing with a fucking explosion to remember to ask which hospital Gibbs was at, Ducky absentmindedly says that Tony or McGee will know, and that stings, because it’s the first of many implications that she doesn’t care enough, and they do. Which we all know is false, but this is a running theme in the show (as we talked about yesterday with Damon’s episode) about how the Ziva the world seems to see isn’t who she really is inside, and she struggles to show herself in ways people understand, because she isn’t outwardly demonstrative in the manner that, say, Abby is. 

“Ziva I’m not implying you don’t care. I know you care.”

It’s too late though, because the words have already sunk in. You don’t care. We all know that’s not true, and Ziva knows it’s not true, but that is all people see of her, and it rattles her.

Never mind that a year ago, before she moved to the US, that would probably be seen as an asset to her father, an indication that she can detach to get the job done. But as we now know, she never really could detach -- she just repressed. That no one would have questioned whether she cared enough to remember which hospital her coworker was at -- but that’s also because no one probably cared enough about her as a person to question her own motives. 

But now she has something to hold onto. She cares about these people, and she cares what they think, which is why it’s so frustrating when she doesn’t seem to be living up to their expectations.

I feel so much for her here, because we know that she is just doing her job. The best thing she can do right now is to investigate, like she’s been trained to do for the last year, because that is what they need to do to help Gibbs. But her cooler head prevailing kind of exposes the downside of how close their unit is, because when her doing her job is seen as suspicious, it exposes them to greater troubles in times of crisis like these.

Meanwhile, what impresses me so much is precisely how quickly Ziva jumps into action. She is really fucking good at her job. This job that she chose, for the first time in her life, and one she loves. She gets shit done, fast. She is the one who secures the crime scene, directs technicians to their posts, surveys what equipment they need and where, all before Ducky gets there. She has absolutely flourished under Gibbs’ wing, and even just this short time later, she is already demonstrating leadership qualities.

Case in point: when they’re back on the ship, Ziva is the one who is able to survey the scene of the explosion and identify its similarities to a suicide bomber, both because of her own experience growing up in Israel and being a part of Mossad, I’m sure, but also because she has been observing and studying over this past year. While McGee is sick at the sight of blood, unable to really do his job to its fullest here, it’s Ziva who kind of takes charge, and plays second to Tony’s Agent in Charge. (No slight on McGee -- it’s just further evidence of how Ziva has taken to this, and that her background is an unfortunate asset to her in this kind of work.) I think that Tony recognizes that, too.

Yet, a quiet moment that is oddly beautiful is when they are at the crime scene, and Ziva notices that it’s raining.

It’s such a tonal shift from the rest of the scene, but it’s like the rain is so soothing to her, especially in that moment. I’m not quite sure why this stands out so much, why they made a point of her being comforted by that. Is it because she would welcome the rain on the rare times it happened when she was a kid? Is it because it’s going to wash away the wreck of the day? Does it offer her a clean slate? Who knows! She just seems transfixed in a way that is un-Ziva-like.

So it goes for both of the episodes: It is Ziva’s professionalism that actually helps them, and we really see her investigative skills shine. I imagine that is because the work gives her something to focus on when everything and everyone else seem to be falling apart. But the great thing is that this is the whole reason she came to NCIS, whether she intended for it to be or not: she is making choices for herself and thinking for herself. She gets to take charge on leads and check into things that don’t feel right. She has gained an independence of body and mind in DC that she never really knew she needed when she was still working for her father. 

She’s on a roll, here. She’s fired up about the case, not only because it directly involves Gibbs, but because she’s looking at the puzzle and knows something isn’t right. “What is wrong with this picture?” she asks, because she realizes the track they’re on doesn’t make sense, regardless of whatever issues are going in within the team. And when she points all that out, I love that Tony has her back: “Damn good summation.” Because he can tease her as much as he’d like, but he had no problem admitting when she is right, and that’s what he needs.

And another thing I love about this, because I am Tiva trash (although this isn’t a Tiva episode) is that it quickly becomes evident how bonded Tony and Ziva are, too. Not just in a romantic sense, but professionally-speaking as well. For instance, from the outset, Abby is quick to remind Tony that he is not Gibbs, even though as senior agent he is in charge. There’s an air of petulance to it, knocking him down for being too haughty, but the thing is, he is doing his job. (In retrospect, these are... really not good episodes for Abs.) So other people joke about Tony impersonating Gibbs, but Ziva is the only one who backs him up, and not in a dramatic, show-y fashion, but through her actions. She doesn’t doubt him, she follows his lead, she does as she’s told not because she’s a doormat, but because she knows what they have to all do to move the investigation along, and she knows that Tony knows and that is why he is ordering them. (That may be the impetus for a fanfic I wrote years ago lol.)

In turn, it also becomes obvious how much Tony has come to rely on Ziva, too. Throughout the episode, she becomes the one he bounces ideas off of, confides in over his suspicions that they’re missing something.  He knows that Ziva is the only one who doesn’t resent him, doesn’t make fun of him for throwing ideas out there, actually treats him like he is their boss, albeit in the interim. It’s not just because they like to flirt or get into each other’s pants, it’s because they’re both professionals and recognize that in each other, especially in this time of crisis.

But, they are indeed in a time of crisis, and all this emotional upheaval does eventually get to our baby agent.

First, we had the accusation by Ducky, and then later on, after an ill-advised attempt at black humour to Abby to defuse the tension, she is once again painted as an uncaring robot. (Like I said... this is not Abby’s finest hour.) It all leads to her mini-breakdown in the bathroom, when everything comes to a head. I’m struck now by how soft the scene is, how positively young and vulnerable Ziva is -- splashing her face with water, eyes full of tears, trying to get a hold of herself. How despite her no-nonsense demeanour, she is barely an adult herself, not that far removed from her girlhood dreams and traumas. And the very thing she does to be helpful -- sticking to the task at hand -- is what is isolating her from everyone around her.

She is hurt. 

Hurt that she is misunderstood. Hurt that people she’s come to consider friends  don’t seem to trust her. Hurt that she has no one to confide in.

We rarely see Ziva cry on this show, and this might be the softest moment she ever gets to experience. The memories she replays as she stares at her reflection -- Ducky insisting Tony and McGee would know when she wouldn’t, Abby’s anger at her -- are what she worries she reflects to the world. It is so heartbreaking to watch.

What it demonstrates, though, is how lost Ziva is without Gibbs there. How they all are. But what this arc does is show that Gibbs is the only one at this point who truly gets her. He did from day one, the second she pulled the trigger on Ari. He saw who she really was, the depths of her convictions, and he’s offered her a safe port in the storm of her life. And now on her own, without him to steady her course, she’s adrift. Because I think what these episodes show is that yes, Ziva has grown immensely and been allowed to blossom at NCIS, but she’s done so because Gibbs’ guidance to their whole team has given her the safe space and confidence to be who she is. Without him there to give her a safety net, she’s back to being just another soldier.

I don’t mean that in the sense that she does everything for him despite what the show will imply years later. What I mean is that like anyone else lucky enough to have a supportive parent, Gibbs’ presence in her life has given her the reassurance to be who she is, not who the world thinks she should be. Without him there, she is weighed down by others’ perceptions of her, and she starts internalizing them. (Which, holy shit, ends up coming back in season 17. Is this our first glimpse of anxiety-ridden Ziva?)

She is desperate to get him back, because that is the only way to get herself back

“What can I do?”  “Remember!”

Which is why she is the one who later confronts Amnesiac!Gibbs in his hospital room, because she is so desperate to get him back, to get herself back. It is so significant to the show’s canon that Ziva is the one to finally jog his memory, and again it is not a slight against the other characters, or an indication that she is better than them all (although personally I do think so because she is my favourite after all).

It’s not that he doesn’t love the others as much, or that his longer and deeper history with them isn’t as important. It’s that he and Ziva shared a profound experience together unlike any of the others, and that forged a deep connection. The second Ziva pulled the trigger on Ari, she sealed their fate. (Again which is why I hate the season 7 retcon of her actions, but ultimately the end result is that she shot him to save Gibbs, so it still mostly tracks.)

That leads to her even-bigger breakdown, because everything she’s been holding in for the last few days -- and ultimately for the last year -- comes to a head. Yes, she’s hurt over Gibbs’ accident and everyone’s dismissal of her, but really, she’s hurt over what happened with Ari which she’s never been allowed to process. She can’t deal with it at home in Israel because Ari was a loose cannon, a traitor who needed to be terminated. She can’t deal with it in DC, because there he was a villain who took the life of one of their own. 

But to her, he was her brother. The brother she loved and who she thought loved her, the one she grew up idolizing and shadowed professionally, the one she fought tooth and nail to save until she realized there was no choice. And she is never, ever allowed to grieve that. For fuck’s sake, we later learn that their own father ordered his execution. I would guess there probably wouldn’t be much thought to, you know, trauma counselling for his family, including Ziva, for what he put them through, or dealing with having to be the one to stop him. I imagine Eli’s advice was to forget about it and move on, which is part of why Ziva had to get the fuck out of Tel Aviv. 

(Sidebar: in my head canon, in the later years at some point post-Tiva, they’d be sitting around talking about things and the subject of Ari would come up, and Ziva would kind of clam up about it, and when Tony would ask her about it, she’d be like, “I know you guys don’t want to ever hear about him, because he was the monster who killed Kate, but... he was also my brother. He was the guy who taught me how to ride a bike and took me for car rides just to listen to music for hours and hours when things got bad between my mother and father and I can’t separate that from who he became. And I can’t ever say any of that out loud because what he did was awful but... he was my brother.”)

“What are you talking about?” “Ari! Ari killed Kate. And I... I killed Ari.” “... Your brother.” “Yes.” “You killed your brother to save me.”

This is just such a huge moment for them.

Because for Ziva, that is probably the first time she’s said those words out loud since it happened. And it’s probably the first time she’s let that grief spill out of her.

Probably the first time someone has comforted her for her loss.

And it is so, so important for her that someone recognizes that. That someone acknowledges the magnitude of what happened, of how it broke her. Of how she’s still broken.

That is the only moment of warmth anyone has shown her all episode, and frankly all series to date.

This isn’t Ziva with no feelings. This is Ziva with feelings so deep she can’t handle them, and they come bursting out in a giant fit of anguish. It’s such a monumental moment for her character, because it reflects all of what has happened in the season leading up to this point. Ziva hasn’t talked about Ari at all since she joined NCIS, since that moment in the elevator where Gibbs recognized what she did for him, and why she needed to break free and start over in DC, far away from her father. 

Because I imagine that to her father and Mossad, what she did was treated as professional. That she did her job.

But this wasn’t a job.

She killed her own brother to save another man.

A man who was a total stranger to her, but one who she knew to be good, and more importantly, the confirmation that her brother was not good, that he was not the man she thought he was, and that if she didn’t stop him, he was going to ruin other people’s lives.

(No wonder Ziva is still consumed with anxiety almost 15 years later.)

Ultimately, the reason Ziva’s breakdown triggers Gibbs’ memory again is because she gives him something to come back for. Gibbs was lost without Shannon and Kelly when he was in his first coma in 1991, and all these years later, his doctors have said that there’s no good reason for him to still be stuck in the past in his brain, because his injuries were not severe enough to warrant it. But he stays there because he can’t live without Shannon and Kelly. But here is Ziva, the woman who saved his life, chose his over that of her own family, and she is laying her emotions bare in front of him. And she needs him. That protection he offered her that night in his basement gave her a reason to live, and him as well. 

Reminding him of Ari was reminding herself of what she did, how she was in pain just like he was, and she needed a light to guide her way back. And it turns out he needed that too.

(Can you tell this is one of my favourite scenes ever?)

Ziva have him a reason to come back.

Which he does, thanks to her, and eventually they do solve their case, even if it ends in disaster, which in turn prompts him to leave the job behind. 

(OT: I have always loved how much trust Gibbs puts in Tony in his absence, how he entrusts Tony with the team when he decides to “retire”. TONY IS A GOOD TEAM LEADER AND THAT IS THE TEA. He did not deserve the crap he got from Abby and McGee about it. Again, Ziva is the only one who recognizes it.)

“I owe you, Ziva.” “I’ll collect, Jethro.” 

This is just so soft. Again, Ziva is still in a raw state, and she’s teary-eyed as she watches him give his goodbyes, then eventually to her. (Also, thank goodness this is the only time she calls him “Jethro” because it just sounds weird coming from any of the agents.) It is the most sincere and the most loaded of the goodbyes, because they have just shared another monumental experience together, alone, and it cuts deeply. 

Which is why today, in the year of our lord two-thousand-and-nineteen, we are still dealing with the aftermath of this. 

How their relationship is still this charged and steeped in personal trauma but also in this wartime-like spirit of saving your comrade in arms. 

How it’s natural that Ziva feels so hurt at Gibbs “abandoning” her (whether you agree with her or not), because once upon a time he was the person who saved her soul and help her heal, and gave her the opportunity to follow her own heart and her own path, and she ended up feeling lost without that. (Again, it’s up to you to believe if that is truly the case, but I think the point the show has made is that Ziva believes it, which this episode cemented.)

How Ziva is still riddled with guilt and self-doubt, who still believes she is a lost cause when people accuse her of being unfeeling. 

How Ziva’s heart is actually so huge, and it’s a miracle she found her place in NCIS so that she could start letting the world know it.

It’s just... I have so many feelings about these scenes, and I could still talk about it for hours, but Day 2 is almost Day 3 and I gotta get this posted.

But I had to get this off my chest, because these episodes are SO IMPORTANT for her character. We learn a little bit about her and a lot about her heart, and she takes the lead as the emotional centre of the story for the arc. Because she remembers. 

----

Also more unrelated thoughts about why I love these episodes:

Ziva was allowed to be funny and lighthearted early on and I miss it. 

“What if those were Gibbs’ guts smushed all over that room?” The colour would be more coffee brown than red.” ZIVA! ZIVA IS SO FUNNY! Ah, gallows humour. I understand Abby was upset but THAT WAS A DAMN FUNNY JOKE. Again, Ziva was allowed to be so much funnier in first few seasons and it’s a shame the show wrote that out of her and replaced it with more trauma.

(Also the slap-fest was such a token male fantasy and it was gross. Stop it, Show.)

(But Abby deserved it a little because she was hysterical.)

“Never doubt an Israeli about diamonds” I don’t even know if that is an actual thing or just a Ziva-ism they made up, but, lol, Ziva sure does know a lot about diamonds for a girl who lives in cammo half the time. I know her dad taught her a lot about them bla bla bla secret slush funds I don’t care, Ziva is girly sometimes. Someone better put a ring on it.

We get to see Ziva use her considerable language skills in this episode! 

Including French!

Ziva can and will fuck your shit up:

#zivadavidweek2019 #ziva david #hiatus part 1 #hiatus part 2 #3x23 #3x24 #i love me some ziva feels #baby ziva needs a hug #long post #very long post #like the episodes as a whole aren't ziva centric #but they are #because she's the emotional centre #and i love me an episode that dives into that

[musicnoots]

Now Ron knows not to cut the face off of a real person

Band of Brothers - The Office AU

A/N: I couldn’t stop thinking about this scene from The Office (the American version). Of course, all rights of this iconic and amazing scene go to the writers of The Office. I only own the horrible imagination that fueled the existence of this post. I don’t know why i wrote this. Inspired by this scene.

Synopsis: When the men of Easy Company learn how to administer CPR, everything goes wrong.

Tags: @gottapenny @dustyjjumpwings @higgles123 @croatianbagudna @wexhappyxfew @medievalfangirl @bandofmarvels

Dick isn’t sure who thought this was a good idea. It started with Eugene talking about how it would be great if everyone in the company knew how to administer first aid, specifically—CPR. At first, it sounded like a great idea. Eugene could teach the men of Easy Company, a paper sales company, how to administer it in an emergency. If someone were to get hurt or stop breathing, then everyone would know what to do. It was a great idea until it became a reality and everyone was sitting in the conference room watching a demonstration by Eugene, Lewis, and a dummy.

How and why Lewis volunteered to do the demonstration will always be a mystery to Dick. Lew never asked to do the demonstration, in fact, he was planning on skipping today because he thought it was a waste of his time, but here he is, kneeling in front of a dummy with a miserable look on his face. To make matters even worse, Lewis has never given CPR before. He almost gave mouth to mouth once, but he backed away once he realized that he had no idea what he was doing.

“So, assessing the situation—“ Eugene spoke in front of his peers, “are they breathin’?”

Lewis looked up at him like he had just asked the world’s stupidest question. “No, Eugene, they are not breathing, and they have no arms or legs.”

“No, that’s not part of it.”

“Where are they?” Dick could feel his soul leaving his body with every word Lewis spoke. This was going to be a disaster. “You know what? If we come across somebody with no arms and legs, do we bother resuscitating them? I mean, what kind of quality of life do we have there?”

Dike spoke, “I would want to live with no legs.”

“How about no arms?” Lewis replied back, his voice fueled with sass and everything wrong for this entire demonstration. “No arms or legs is basically how you exist right now, Norman, you don’t do anything.”

“Alright, so let’s get back to it,” Eugene said, trying to get his point across and get rid of the distractions, “‘cause you’re losin’ him.”

While Dike was busy trying to come to terms with what Lewis said, Lewis himself was now administering CPR to the dummy. His hands were in the correct position but he was pumping on the dummy’s chest way too fast. It was almost as if a ten year old was giving CPR.

“Okay, too fast,” Eugene said, clapping his hands together, “everyone, we need to pump at a pace of one hundred beats per minute.”

Lewis stopped and sighed, looking at the dummy both confused and stressed—a sight not ideal for a demonstration. “Okay, that’s hard to keep track. How many is that per hour?”

“How’s that gonna help you?” Dick asked.

“I will divide and account to it.”

“Right.” 

“Okay, well a good trick is to pump to the tune of Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees,” Eugene said, before looking over to Lew. “Do you know that song?”

“Yes! Yes, I do. I love that song.” Finally, something he knew. Now, they were really starting to get into business. Lewis had some consensus on what they were doing, and everyone was finally getting interested once popular song had been mentioned. Lewis got back into form and started pumping his hands on the dummy. “First I was afraid, I was petrified…”

Oh God. Eugene intervened to help the poor man. “No, it’s Uh, uh, uh, uh, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right.”

Dick wanted to leave. He didn’t want to see the rest of the demonstration because he knew it was a lost cause from the start—it was already hard to see Lewis trying to give a good demo, but it was even worse when Lewis couldn’t even do the demo correctly. 

Once Eugene helped Lewis into the correct form and the correct pace of pumping on the dummy’s chest by singing the song, everything seemed fine. For five seconds, Dick felt like the world was not going to explode. He felt his heart beat slow back down to normal and his body relax when he saw his friend finally get a hang of it.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive. Uh, uh, uh, uh, stayin’ alive.”

Everybody was singing the song by the second time. It was more of a dull and unenthusiastic tone in the wrong with the addition of George, who was so into the song and the beat that he was the loudest person singing.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh, stayin’ alive—”

“Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk,” George sang, not even in his usual voice, he tried to sing the way it was sung in the recording. He didn’t even car if it didn’t go along with the demonstration, he just really liked the song. “Music loud and women warm, I’m been kicked around since I was born.”

Before Eugene, Dick, and everyone in Easy Company knew it, half of the company was up dancing and singing to the song. It was George who stood up first, getting into the groove with the song he was singing, and then Babe joined in with the dancing even though his dancing wasn’t really considered dancing it was more like a five year old trying to scratch his back. Then Lewis started dancing even though he was the one giving demonstration, closing in on Eugene with George and Babe as the entire company became a low quality choir with Dick sitting in the back wondering why he thought everything was going to be okay. This was Easy Company! Not some classroom full of eager to learn teenagers!

He felt bad for Eugene, though. He spent a lot of time preparing this demonstration, and the certified medic was actually pretty excited to show his co-workers what he does when he’s not selling paper for the company. He was so excited for the demonstration that he actually prepared his note cards and said the entire thing in front of a mirror for fifteen minutes before he left for work this morning.

“Yeah, okay,” Eugene spoke up, now visibly annoyed and irritated at how the demonstration failed, “you didn’t maintain a hundred beats per minute, and the ambulance didn’t arrive because nobody called nine-one-one, so you lost him.”

Dick knew this was coming. He was anticipating a long talk with the bosses, Sink and Marshall, on why the demonstration failed, but he was also dreading the look poor Eugene was going to be sporting all week at everyone because he prepared so long for this.

“Okay, he’s dead,” Ron stood up from his seat and walked up to the front, “does anyone know what we do next? Anybody? Eugene?”

Eugene looked confused and dumbfounded. “I have no idea.”

Bull raised his hand. “We bury him.”

“Wrong. Check for an organ donor card. If he has one, we only have minutes to harvest.”

“He has no wallet, I checked,” Harry said.

“He is an organ donor!” Lewis told Ron. 

“He is?” Ron crouched down and started getting into business. “Give me some ice and a styrofoam bucket!” he told Liebgott before lifting up his pant sleeve to reveal a knife attached to his leg. How and why Ron has a knife—Dick doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know. 

Everyone watched as Ron took the knife and stabbed it into the chest of the dummy, followed by a series of screams and loud gasps from the company. 

“Ron!”

“Ron, what are you doing?”

“We search for the organs!” Ron said as he shoved his hand into the dummy’s now opened chest. 

Meanwhile, Liebgott, who was standing right above Ron as he shoved his hand into the heart, started to feel nauseous from the sight of it. “I’m not feelin’ well, I need to sit down,” he mumbled as everyone came to his aid, helping him to sit down. They didn’t want anything bad to happen to their little hunchback of Notre Dame, so all of their undivided attention was focused on getting Joe to a seat to cool off while Ron was busy with the dummy.

When everybody turned back around to a sound Dick doesn’t not want to describe, they found Ron wearing the face of the dummy that he cut off. Bull gasped loudly and Babe almost screamed and before anyone knew it, Ron and Lewis were stuck in the office of Sink and Marshall hours after the disastrous demonstration.

“Tell me why you had to...cut the face off the dummy.”

Ron sighed. “I didn’t think it was very realistic in the movie, it turns out, it’s pretty realistic.”

“We had to pay for it! Cost us thirty five hundred dollars.”

“Three thousand five hundred dollars for a dummy?” Lewis asked, only to be shot a look of disappointment and unamusement by Sink. “Well, okay, look, Sink, this is why we have training. We start from the dummy and learn from our mistakes, and now Ron knows not to cut the face off of a real person.”

#im sorry this exists #but i had to #i keep thinking about this scene #and its the best #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #lewis nixon #dick winters #joe liebgott #eugene roe #george luz

[alchemine]

modern Baxley au, pt 4

part 1 part 2 part 3 on AO3

On the Monday morning following the adventure with the pipes, Molesley sees a workman heading upstairs, green boiler suit on and tool box in hand, presumably on the way to undo their makeshift repair job. Now that he’s paying more attention, he also notices a grocery delivery van parked up across the road as he’s leaving, which answers the question of how Phyllis handles the chores of daily living. He’s still not certain whether she truly never goes out, or whether she just prefers to stay in as much as possible, but a picture is starting to form in his head. It doesn’t make sense to him yet, but he means to understand it if he can. 

When he comes home again in the early twilight, her curtains are drawn as always, outlined in gold from the lamp inside, and he strains his eyes looking for a shadow or a flicker of movement before giving up and going in. His own home is tidy, but it feels cold and too quiet, even after he’s switched on the heating for warmth and the radio for company. Why on earth did he say goodbye and leave without a way to contact her, he wonders, as he slops beans over toast for his tea. In the moment it had seemed silly--she was only a flight of stairs away, after all--but now he suspects he may have been an idiot. 

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time, he thinks, sitting down with his plate to start the evening’s marking and planning. At least there’s never a shortage of work to keep him occupied, which is probably true of Phyllis as well, up there in solitary splendour with her marvellous creations. 

Some time later, during a break at school, he considers looking her up on one of the computers, but gets as far as typing her name into the search box before closing the browser, ashamed of his own unseemly curiosity. He does, however, visit her Etsy shop, which seems safe enough since she mentioned it to him, and  spends some time reading the brief About section and browsing the items on offer. All the prices look breathtakingly high to his uneducated eyes, but every review is glowing and several pieces are marked as sold, so people must be willing to pay. He thinks of placing an order, not least because it would give him an excuse to visit her again, but worries that it might make her uncomfortable and refrains. Anyway, he’d look ludicrous in a pair of plus fours or a tweed hacking jacket, no matter how exquisitely tailored. And where would he wear them? To playground duty? Not likely. 

On Friday, nearly a week after their second meeting, he’s on his way out early in the morning with an armload of supplies for a project he’s planning to do during the history lesson--they’re almost finished with Rome, thank goodness, although it’ll be a long time before he gets over Ollie Jacobs putting up his hand to ask why the Romans had sent legions of hares to defend their outposts. I don’t think rabbits would be very good soldiers, Ollie had opined, and Molesley had had to take a moment to compose himself before carefully writing out L-E-G-I-O-N-A-R-I-E-S on the white board. 

Preoccupied with the memory, and grinning to himself about it all over again, he’s just set foot on the pavement when there’s a sharp rapping behind him that makes him start and nearly drop everything he’s carrying. Turning around, he sees old Mrs Crawley at her bay window: she catches his eye and beckons to him, and hoping she won’t make him too awfully late, he backtracks and meets her in the foyer outside her front door.  

“Off to work are you, young man?” 

“Yes, Mrs Crawley.” 

“Hmm.” The old woman leans on her cane and eyes him as if she thinks his teaching job might be a front for something disreputable. “I’ve got a message for you before you go.” 

“You have?” Molesley shifts his box of nontoxic paints and precut sundial shapes to a less awkward position. He can’t imagine what message Mrs Crawley could possibly have for him, though he wouldn’t put it past her to be in touch with people at the highest levels of government. 

“Yes,” Mrs Crawley says. “It’s from Miss Baxter, above you.” 

This news makes Molesley’s heart leap so hard in his chest that he’s worried for a moment Mrs Crawley may have to administer CPR to him. “It is? Did she phone you or--?”

“I paid a call on her,” Mrs Crawley says, unruffled. “Yesterday afternoon. I visit quite often. It’s a Christian charity, and also she makes excellent gingersnaps. Ginger is very good for the digestion, you know.” 

“I’ve heard,” Molesley says weakly. He’s struck by the image of Mrs Crawley making her slow and shaky way to the fifth floor, climbing every step because there isn’t a lift in the building, driven by the implacable forces of her sense of duty and a craving for biscuits. And what does she mean by a Christian charity? Has it got something to do with the troubles Phyllis alluded to in passing? 

“Do you want your message, young Mr Molesley?” Mrs Crawley eyes him shrewdly. “You do, don’t you? I’ve seen you staring up at her windows like a great big mooncalf; don’t think I haven’t. You’re lucky she doesn’t seem to mind it.” 

“Er, yes,” Molesley says. The top of his head feels warm, as if his soul is trying to escape through it and flee his body. “I’d like that message very much, please and thank you.” 

“That’s better.” Mrs Crawley nods. “She says she’d like you to come for breakfast in the morning, if you’re not busy, which I doubt you are. Half past nine. She would have rung you up herself, she says, only she forgot to ask for your telephone number.” 

“You might have given it to her,” Molesley says. “I gave it to you when I first moved in, for emergencies.” 

“Breakfast invitations are not emergencies,” Mrs Crawley says primly. “And I certainly would not pass on private information that wasn’t mine to share.” 

This, Molesley thinks, is probably the truth. Mrs Crawley enjoys collecting information, but she’s more likely to hoard it for the sheer pleasure of knowledge than she is to gossip. It doesn’t matter, though. He’s too happy at the moment to be irritated with anyone, especially not the messenger of his good fortune.

“Would you--could you tell her I’ll be there? Are you going to visit again today?” 

“I am not,” Mrs Crawley says, “But because unlike the two of you, I always get a number, I will telephone her and convey your acceptance. In my day, we used to send a card with a proper response, but times change.” 

She shifts her weight on the cane and peers up into Molesley’s face, and unbelievably, he sees a twinkle in her ancient eyes. “I believe, Mr Molesley, that you have an assignation, or as you might prefer to call it, a date.”  

#downton abbey #modern au #phyllis baxter #joseph molesley #baxley

[happyhollow-mellowmarsh]

As If Today Couldn't Possibly Get Any Worse || Monty || Trial 3.2 || Re: All of That / Attn: Nico, Aisling, Natalie, Blakeley

Ah. So there's the fucker.

There's a deep discomfort in Monty's chest when the confessions start. Unlike the other two murderers before, who had been acquaintances on good terms at most, he liked the pair of lovers enough that he might consider them friends to no one but himself. It's what makes this betrayal hurt all the more, and that's not even accounting for the fact that the victim in all of this was Zoomy. Izumi, his best friend here outside of Mallory, one of three people he trusted with the truth behind his scars. It would have been so much easier if he could pretend otherwise, that Nico was just a cold-blooded fuckwad who killed Izumi maliciously instead of reducing her death to a fucking mistake. A mistake. Where the hell was the fairness in all of that? She died over a fucking mistake? 

Deep breaths. "Part of me really, really wants to sock you in the face right now." His tone is irregular, quietly seething, hot as the surface of the sun yet cold as frigid ice in equal measure. Anger, hate and frustration mingled with pain and understanding. "But I get it. I hate that I get it, but I know what you mean about the best parts of yourself being tied to another. That doesn't excuse you for shite, nor does it make the fact you killed Zoomy of all people any fucking better, you clown. But we'll settle this grudge later when I can frogmarch you back over to the mirror room and make you apologize to her on both knees. And to Khoa for making his fucking death pointless. Utterly, fucking pointless."

So much for that swear filter today. As for Aisling, "...Alright. If that's the challenge you have for us, then I'm taking it. At the end of this trial, I'm voting Khoa - he is not his own murderer, and I hate to make him take the blame for everything that has transpired, especially since our plan was a moot point in hindsight - but if we're going to champion mercy towards one killer for once and try and end this trial peacefully, then I'm not going to railroad whoever sabotaged us as well. We've not mistrialed so far, and in the dimmest hope that this one will be non-lethal... That's the only fair route we have. It changes little - we're still going to try and uncover who did this. Is everyone here willing to at least try?" Silence. before he turns to face Aisling directly. "Please, Aisling. If nothing else, I need your help. Since your last alibi was clearly a lie, tell us what actually happened and if you noticed anyone or anything suspicious near the bog lake, on the way to the mushroom log."

Onto everything else. He'd kept a running tally of people and points he had to address, and even though his headache was even worse than he'd started with, they'd get to the bottom of this disastrous day somehow. First, Natalie and Haven. "Khoa had me sketch the map for him, so that he had a visual path of where to stop in the middle of the lake as per our plan. He took it with him into the lake, and I assume it came back with him when we pulled his body onto the dock to administer CPR. I can also vouch that Khoa didn't do anything suspicious from the time we started." Doing some mental calculations in his head, Monty also turns to Natalie. "I was at the ferry earlier than you all, yes. Wouldn't say it was about ten minutes because the bags of birdseed slowed me down, but I did arrive at the ferry first. Nothing seemed out of place to me then, although given it was the inside of the engine that was sabotaged, that's no surprise. I was also under the impression the pulley was working."

A thought occurs to him as he continues to address Natalie. "The ring of bruises around Zoomy's right hand isn't relevant to the case. She had it last night while we were in the lounge playing It Takes Two. The mud on Zoomy probably came from where she originally fell - she cracked her head and nose on that stepping stone and the dirt around it. If the blood trail is of any indication, she got up from there, walked over, and then fell to the grass where she finally died. As for the mud in Room 9, that was Tomi - he'd gotten mud on himself while checking over her body, and when we moved to room investigations, ours was the first we visited. He cleaned up in the bathroom, so that's all there is to it."

Next, back to Aisling and to an extent, Erika. "I didn't tell anyone the specifics of our plan. That being said, I did tell Mallory that we had a plan, and to anticipate the outcome if we couldn't revive Khoa free of the actual sabotage." He turns to look at Mallory apologetically. "It probably wasn't worth the worry, but I'm sick and tired of my investigative partners dragging her over to the scene of the crime and dropping the new bodies on her unannounced. I also wanted her not to interfere in the plan, in case she happened to be watching at the time, although in hindsight that might have been for the better." 

He pauses, thinking back to the day before. "That said... well, this is more of a theory, but yesterday... The original meeting was held in the Aviary, around the bird pond. A wide open area where we could talk and pretend like nothing was going on between us, but I don't know if we were all alone back then. We were all focused on talking through our plan that if someone had overheard us... Blakeley, Natalie, did either of you notice anyone in our vicinity? I did not." Monty admits, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Regardless, to put this all in narrative, what are the chances someone had overheard us and sabotaged the engine in the hopes that we'd not have gone through with our plan in the first place?"

#monty #chapter3 #trial3 #submission

[gracespilkerr]

10 Reasons Firefighters Are Important to the Community

As a firefighter, I have the privilege of serving my community and being someone that residents can depend upon. But, a firefighter’s role means a lot more than just putting out fires. 

So, why are firefighters so important to the community?

Firefighters are dependable members of the community who assist in a wider range of situations than you might expect. We are rescuers, community leaders, social support, and role models. We can be there to help in all kinds of emergency and non-emergency situations. 

This often means providing guidance and community support when the public may consider us to be off-duty. 

We are always ready to respond to major fires, incidents, and accidents when the call comes in, but will also work with schools, care homes, and all kinds of other places where we can.

Why are firefighters so valuable to the community?

Firefighters are important members of the community because they are trained to deal with all kinds of needs and all kinds of people.

 Firefighters will handle residential, commercial and wildfires

Firefighters can provide medical assistance as EMTs

Firefighters can assist at the scene of road traffic accidents

 Firefighters can deal with hazardous materials

Firefighters are stationed in some niche departments for specialist services

Firefighters can enforce fire codes and preventative measures in commercial buildings

Firefighters can inspire the next generation at fun open days

Firefighters can give safety talks at schools and nursing homes

Firefighters can help animals in need too (yes we get called for all sorts of animals problems)

Firefighters can create a two-way relationship with the community

Let’s learn a little more about the 10 ways that firefighters are so important to the community.

1) Firefighters will handle residential, commercial, and wild fires.

It might sound a little obvious to say that we help the community by putting out fires, but this is still one of our most important jobs. 

We have the training and equipment ready to tackle all kinds of fires – from small scale kitchen fires to major blazes in office blocks or apartment buildings. Everyone must have confidence in us to show up at your address as soon as possible to protect lives and property.

Residential fires are a common cause of emergency calls. Fires can occur in homes through accidents with candles and flammable objects, faulty wiring, malfunctioning appliances, lightning strikes, and more. 

This is why we must prove ourselves to be strong, friendly community leaders. The same is true for any commercial building fires, such as office blocks, restaurants, and stores.

Can firefighters tackle wildfires too?

Wildland fires are another problem that we have to deal with and will require special training. This is more common in rural areas and hotter regions where there is a greater risk of wildland fire in forests or grasslands. 

Wildfires are caused by dry weather but also by arson and accidents with campfires and cigarettes. 

Experienced wildland firefighters trained for these situations can head out and manage the fire effectively. In areas like California, this training is more essential than ever as wildfires become more frequent.

Our role as community leaders here is as much about creating a best plan for tackling a fire as it is about preventing them. We all know Smokey’s statement “only you can prevent wildfires”. Well, it is up to fire services to ensure that this message gets across.

2) Firefighters can provide medical assistance as EMTs and Paramedics

Firefighters may be known best as those that literally fight fires, but that isn’t what the majority of calls are for. 

Instead, most calls are for medical emergencies. 

We can act as first responders in times of crisis to reach vulnerable patients. This also means that we can provide patient treatment and transfer as needed so they can receive treatment in the hospital. 

So, it’s not unusual to see a fire truck at the scene of a medical emergency.

Are all firemen EMTs or Paramedics?

Usually, but not always. There is a requirement for many departments that anyone who wants to work as a firefighter must undergo EMT training (feel free to click the link to find EMT/Medic training near you).

We can either have this prior to our application or some departments will provide training on the job. 

However, some very large or very small departments or volunteer departments may not require any sort of medical training as they don’t provide any medical assistance.

EMT training lets us handle medical emergencies that don’t require invasive treatment. This could be as simple as tending to a wound or a burn – both of which are essential skills on the fire ground – or administer CPR.

Most firemen are EMTs but not all firemen are paramedics. 

There is a distinction based on our training and experience which determines the types of procedures we can handle. EMTs can act as first responders to assess a scene and deal with those non-invasive issues. 

But, we may need to call in a paramedic firefighter for assistance. Either way, you can be sure that you are in safe hands.

3) Firefighters can assist at the scene of road traffic accidents.

Because we can provide both firefighting services and medical assistance, we often come and deal with road accidents in our district. 

The NFPA offers some interesting data on this. The stats may be from 2014, but they give a good idea of what we do.

In 2014, US fire departments dealt with 4,461,000 incidents on roads.

27% of those were on highways. This isn’t a big surprise given the volume of traffic and speed of the vehicles

A further 24% occurred on residential roads.

67% of calls were for EMS and rescues. This includes those trapped in vehicles, major trauma from a collision, or cardiac arrests.

Just 6% were car fires that weren’t related to EMS calls

Fire crews have the equipment necessary to tackle fires in vehicles and to extract victims from overturned cars. 

Sometimes there is no way to safely retrieve someone with suspected spinal fractures or head injuries unless we take the roof of the car off or cut the door off. 

Our EMS and paramedic training also allows us to handle medical incidents at the scene. We can work on patients in cardiac arrest, treat burns and wounds for the best prognosis, and much more. This range of skills gives victims the best chance of survival.

Furthermore, we have the organizational skills in scene management to ensure that we handle incidents effectively and efficiently. 

We can work with the police and ambulance crews to prioritize cases in multiple-car incidents, and we can work to evacuate tunnels and support other drivers and bystanders.

4) Firefighters can deal with hazardous materials

Hazmat training is an aspect of firefighting that the public usually doesn’t know much about. But, if there is a major incident involving hazardous materials then someone needs to be able to control the scene and mitigate risk. 

Hazardous materials could be anything from chemical spills from trucks to radioactive hazards from power plants, biological waste, or even chemical weapons. 

Experienced hazmat techs can use protective equipment to access the situation, strategize the best approach, and contain the release.

Firefighters need to be prepared for these operations because we never know what we will encounter on a call. 

For example, an initial call out to a truck crash might not mention that the truck contains dangerous materials or is leaking a lot of fuel. 

If we don’t handle the spill correctly, it could lead to an explosion or endanger lives by way of lethal vapors. We also have to consider the risks in warehouses and plants with high quantities of household chemicals like bleach. 

Also, you might be surprised at the number of incidents we are called for involving illegal drug labs.

5) Firefighters are trained for unique situations.

Because we have all of this specialist training and the skills to handle many different situations, you will find specialist departments in various locations. 

This ability to diversify is essential for providing the best possible care and support in a community. 

For example, areas based by water – either with lakefronts or coastal areas – need teams with experience in water rescue and marine fire services. 

If that area has a major port, you will probably find there is a crew on hand to handle any accidents, fires or chemical spills in the vicinity. 

The same is true for any airports. 

It is safer to have engines and appropriate equipment on-site in case of any major fires in the buildings or aircraft crashes.

Teams in more rural areas may have departments that specialize in wildfire, search and rescue, and rope access. Firefighters have the opportunity to learn lots of new skills on the job so that they can handle anything thrown at them. 

This also includes disaster relief efforts in cases of storm damage and flooding. The job really is more varied than you realize when you first consider becoming a firefighter as a kid. 

It isn’t all rushing out on fire trucks to put out burning buildings.

6) Firefighters can protect buildings through fire codes and regulations.

A lot of the work that goes on in a fire department is about prevention rather than suppression. We don’t want to have to go out and fight fires every day when we could educate people on how to avoid them instead. 

Part of this response involves dealing with fire codes and regulations. There are more than 300 fire standards and consensus codes used by the NFPA. 

It is up to local authorities and fire marshals to ensure that building owners comply with them. If we don’t, we could put people at risk.

These codes and standards relate to the fire equipment contained in a building, both in their effectiveness and their maintenance. This means separate codes for sprinkler systems, fire alarms, foam systems, and other extinguishers. 

There are also regulations on the storage of hazardous materials in a building, such as fuel in a garage, dry cleaning materials, or other flammable or aerosol products. 

In addition, there are all the codes on building occupancy, escape routes, ventilation, and more.

This is something that we don’t really think about unless we are personally responsible for the upkeep of a building or business. 

We can walk past fire extinguishers and under smoke detectors and forget that someone is responsible for ensuring they work and are maintained regularly.

7) Firefighters can inspire the next generation during public events

Firefighters are great role models for the next generation. Kids can learn a lot from us, not only about how to stay safe but as responsible members of their community. 

That is why it is so important that we take the time to engage with children and the community in an educational setting. 

Options will vary between stations and departments. But, it isn’t uncommon to see fire crews attending schools for special visits or opening up the station for tours. You may also find that a station will arrange a fire truck drive by for birthday celebrations.

School visits are a great way for us to teach important information to large groups of children in a safe, familiar environment. 

This is ideal for younger children learning the basics of fire safety and prevention. They have the support of their peers and teachers while we talk to them about what they should do in an emergency. 

These trips also offer a chance for kids to see us away from the flashing lights and emergencies. Children may associate us with scary situations, so it is nice to remind them that we are friendly, normal people underneath it all.

Can I take my child to a fire station?

Another option for kids is to come and see the fire station and learn more there. This is a great idea for smaller groups of responsible kids. 

Schools can send classes to learn more about the equipment, fire trucks, and the procedures in the station. This could be helpful for pre-teens that are interested in fire prevention as a possible career. 

The tour gives a more realistic insight into what it means to be a firefighter.

Depending on the facilities, children may also get to take part in some hands-on activities. 

This could include a set-up in a smoke-filled room or a burn trainer where they need to use what they learned to get out safely. It is extreme, but it is the sort of immersive experience that stays with them.

Can children become fire cadets?

Many fire departments will have a fire cadet program where teenagers can gain skills and training. This is a great stepping stone into the world of professional fire service. Cadets can learn some basic skills related to firefighting and fire science. 

They also get to build relationships with the team and life skills that will set them up for adulthood. This is a great program for those aged 16-20. Those that are successful and enjoy the role can then go on to college or work on their qualifications in order to join the fire service.

8) Firefighters can provide guidance for seniors.

It isn’t just children and teenagers that can benefit from a little community support and guidance. There are plenty of vulnerable seniors out there that might not have adequate fire safety equipment or plans in place in their homes.

One way that we can do this is to visit seniors within their homes. We can come to them to take a look around and see how we can help. 

These home assessments are simple, friendly evaluations of the fire equipment and hazards in a property. 

Some residents may live in homes without a clear route to a fire exit. Cluttered homes with narrow halls are a problem, especially for seniors that also need walking aids. 

Seniors may also have inactive smoke alarms or find that they struggle to change the batteries. Smoke alarm installation and battery change is a simple task that can save lives.

Will firefighters visit my nursing home?

Some fire departments will allow care providers to schedule a visit to a nursing home. We can come and talk to staff and residents as a group so that everyone is on the same page. 

Residents may need a refresher course on basic fire safety, especially if they have cognitive problems. The staff also needs a plan in place that is comprehensive and understood by all in the event of a fire. 

This means developing evacuation routes, emergency meeting points, and protocols for handling fires. We will also help to test alarms and evaluate equipment.

9) Firefighters can help animals in need 

A lot of the roles of firefighters in the community relate to the way we help our fellow human residents. But, there will also be times when we need to rescue animals too. 

We will try and save any creature that is at risk in the event of the fire where we can. This means that we will always do our best to locate and treat pets where possible. 

In fact, you may have seen videos and stories online of firefighters performing CPR on dogs. These animals can suffer the same effects of smoke inhalation and we can use our training and equipment to revive them. They are part of your family so we will always do our best for them.

Do firefighters really rescue cats from trees?

Somehow, the idea of the firefighter saving a cat from a tree has become quite the cliché. You see it all the time in cartoons. 

Perhaps we use it in kid’s cartoons to show the lighter side of being a firefighter, rather than all the emergencies and destruction. It is true. We do save cats from trees, roofs, and anywhere else that they get stuck. 

We also save birds caught up in netting and retrieve ducklings from drains. Assuming it doesn’t put a firefighters life or safety at risk, if there is a creature in distress and we have the tools to help, we will help.  

10) Firefighters have one of the strongest support systems and symbiotic relationships in the community

Finally, there is a strong system of support between firefighters and their communities. Often, we look towards community leaders as providers of a service with a one-way system of care support. 

We expect the police to be there to protect us from harm, arrest the bad guys, and offer security. 

But, we don’t always look at what we can do to help them.

It is different with firefighters and this comes down to the importance of community spirit and that equal relationship on both sides. 

Small towns have dedicated teams of volunteer firefighters (check out our article on why you should become a volunteer firefighter) with members of the local community stepping up to help. 

Some may become paid firefighters after training or just continue to do their civic duty. As a result of this dedication, and other issues with funding, local communities see the sacrifice made. 

There is an appreciation of local concerns and a strong relationship built on respect where communities and firefighters help each other.

What is the adopt a fire station program?

One way we see this two-way relationship is through local adoption programs. Residents can adopt a station or a hydrant to play their part in looking after their area. 

Adoption programs for stations give citizens the chance to donate their time, money, or other goods to stations in need. This could be equipment for the kitchens, home-cooked meals, workout equipment, or anything else of use.

There are many reasons why firefighters are so important to the community.

These 10 reasons firefighters are important for the community are just the start. Firefighters are beloved in the community because they are a consistent and active part of it. 

They aren’t just there in those emergency situations to save lives and fight fires. They are always on call to offer support to the most vulnerable so that everyone has the protection they need in their homes. 

They inspire people to do better in their community and teach people of all ages about hazards and how to handle them. There is no issue to big or small and communities respect that.

Sources:

https://www.usfa.fema.gov/prevention/outreach/fire_safe_seniors.html

https://www.nfpa.org//-/media/Files/News-and-Research/Fire-statistics-and-reports/Fact-sheets/FDRoadwayIncidentFactSheet.pdf

https://www.usnews.com/news/healthiest-communities/articles/2018-12-26/adopt-a-fire-station-programs-spark-community-connection-support

from FirefighterNOW https://firefighternow.com/10-reasons-firefighters-are-important-to-the-community/

From https://catherinelee4.blogspot.com/2020/07/10-reasons-firefighters-are-important.html

source https://catherinelee4.wordpress.com/2020/07/15/10-reasons-firefighters-are-important-to-the-community/

via Blogger http://pppearlyn.blogspot.com/2020/07/10-reasons-firefighters-are-important.html

[sending-the-message]

A Window to the Void by Cymoril_Melnibone

What some people call ’lucky’ isn’t so much luck as just avoiding disaster. In my opinion, that word should be reserved for events like winning the lottery, or finding a lump of gold in your back yard. It’s not really lucky to get an early diagnosis of a life-threatening disease, nor is it lucky to survive a catastrophic car crash. But people say that sort of thing all the time. Maybe it’s a personal thing. People have been calling me ‘lucky’ for years now, and it grates on me. I certainly didn’t feel very fortunate after the accident. That afternoon was stormy, the clouds bruised purple-grey and pregnant with unshed rain. Thunder rattled the street signs as my brother and I hurried down the winding footpath round the bays, our shoulders hunched in anticipation of the impending downpour. But instead of rain, something else came down from the sky. I’d been nearest to the lamp post when the lightning hit, but I don’t remember a single detail of the actual event. My brother recalls a searing flash, then the stink of burning hair and the roar of thunder overhead. I’d been thrown ten feet into the road, and the next car stopped just in time, assuming there had been a hit and run. The driver was an ER nurse on his way home. He had administered CPR, and restarted my seized heart. He was the first one to say it. “You were really lucky I finished my shift early,” he’d told me, “otherwise I’d never have been driving past at that time.” Lucky. Everything hurt, but my right side was the worst. The lightning strike had arced into my shoulder as my bare arm grazed the metal pole, part of the current running through me to the ground. “You were lucky it wasn’t your left side,” explained the doctor, “it could have burned a hole through your heart.” Lying in the hospital in blind agony, I didn’t feel lucky at all. The shockwave had impacted my eyes, causing the corneas to buckle and fracture. The result was at once horrible and quite beautiful – milky, star-shaped occlusions known as ‘star cataracts’. They were able to replace the left cornea with a dead girl’s. They wouldn’t tell me who she was, but she was around my own age, and she wasn’t lucky at all; she drowned in a river, trapped under a fallen branch. My right eye was unsalvageable; damage to the optic nerve meant I’d never see out of it again. They offered to replace the cornea anyway, to match the other one. But I decided that liked the strangely pretty, crystalline shape of the star cataract. Even if I didn’t call it lucky, it was a reminder that I’d survived being hit by lightning.

  My brother, Michael, forever blamed himself for the events of that day. It was his fault that we were delayed at the beach; he wanted to chat up some girl he liked, long after we were supposed to head home. I forgave him years ago – most fifteen-year-old boys are at the mercy of their hormones – but his guilt lingered so strongly that I worried it had truly damaged him, that he’d never have a normal life. In a way, the accident hurt him more than it had me. He was always there. If I moved flat, he’d turn up with a van, loading all the boxes, insisting that I shouldn’t lift a finger. Every birthday was elaborate, and every year Michael offered to pay for surgery to fix my star-shaped eye. I think it really bothered him, seeing the cataract. Every time he looked at me he saw his careless teenage lust staring back at him, overcoming his common sense, putting his sister in danger. When I moved to the other side of the country, he came with me. He uprooted his whole life; quit his job, left his girlfriend, and sold everything he owned, just to stay close to his half-blind little sister. In truth, I’d done it mostly to get away from him, to try and gain a little independence. But I couldn’t tell Mike that. I suppose I reconciled it with myself that he needed to do something that really cost him, to atone for the mistake he felt he had made. And I hoped it would finally free him, that such a huge sacrifice would be enough to fill the gaping, guilty void in his heart. But it was not. Looking after his crippled sister had moved from penance to pathology – it wasn’t just about the guilt any more. It had become his purpose. It had become who he was. I felt unkind when I thought that he was a little too in love with his martyrdom. And I felt selfish because I didn’t tell him to go away. But I guess I’d grown so used to him always being there.

  My right eye had been my master eye, and adjusting to using only my left had been surprisingly difficult. The lack of depth perception especially bothered me, and I really hated the sudden surge in popularity for 3D films; they highlighted my disability even more. And with right-eye dominance goes right-hand dominance, which was also a problem for me. The lightning strike had damaged a lot more than just my eyes; the sudden and powerful muscle contractions caused by that massive electrical current had pulverised several bones, my own shocked flesh like a vice. Comminuted fractures heal poorly, and I could never fully straighten my right arm, or regain much mobility in that wrist. Retraining yourself to be left-handed takes work and practice. Mike insisting on doing everything for me really didn’t help – he took over to the point where I swear he would have wiped my ass if I’d asked him to. After we moved, I embraced my inner bitch, and I’d yell at him to fuck off, to leave me alone for one goddamn hour and let me do things myself. He blamed the outbursts on my ‘trauma’, and would be so understanding that I’d grind my teeth in frustration until my jaws ached as much as my wrist. In truly dark and shameful moments, I’d wish that he had been the one who had brushed past the lamp post. Sometimes I’d wish that passing nurse hadn’t stopped his car. And the more people told me I was ‘lucky’, the less I told the truth. Eventually, the story behind the star cataract became a mundane little lie, just a curious birth defect; my twisted arm just the legacy of a clumsy child. Then one day, on a visit to the coast, I saw something. And I saw it with my blind eye.

  When both eyes are open, I see nothing with the right eye; not even darkness. When I close my good eye, sometimes I fancy I can see something through the star. I try to convince myself that maybe a few photons can drift through all that damaged jelly, and that the optic nerve isn’t as fried as I know it is. On particularly bright days, like the morning of our sojourn by the sea, I experiment. I stare into the sun with my blind eye, to see if anything at all can get through. That day was breathlessly clear, the sky perfect and cloudless, blue as a child’s painting. I sat in the warm sand and covered my good eye, turning my face full into the glare. Something flashed across the blank nothing of my blindness – so quickly that I almost didn’t register it. As quick as a lightning strike. “Jesus!” I swore, dropping my hand. Mike was there in an instant, “What is it, Brooke?” “I saw something! Out of my bad eye. Just for a second.” His worry turned sceptical, brows humouring me with a frown. “It was probably nothing. Random neurons firing.” “No. I saw something.” I turned away from him, conveniently blocking out his condescending gaze by covering my good eye. “I’m gonna try again.” “Hey, don’t do that! Staring into the sun can’t be good for you, blind or not.” Ignoring him, I turned my head again, just catching something – a fracture in the field of nothing, a hint of a line, straight as a torch beam shining into the heavens. Tilting my chin carefully, I snuck up on it, triangulating it back into my field of view where no view should have been possible. Yes, there; it was like torchlight. But instead of a white line on black, it was an eerie, impossible reversal. A black beam on a field of nothing. I pointed with my other hand, “It’s like a light, a beam, shining up from the ground and into the sky. Over there.” Uncovering my sighted eye, I squinted in the bright sunlight, to see where I was pointing. My finger hovered directly over the smaller of two islands in the harbour; just a hump of rock and sand, with a few scraggly bushes clinging to it. “There. It’s coming from the island.” Mike squinted at the salt-blasted landmark, then made a noise that was both dismissive and unreasonably irritating. “I don’t know what you think you’re “seeing”, B.” I could hear the quotation marks. “But there’s nothing out there, trust the guy with two good eyes. Just seagull shit and a bunch of rocks.” “Seriously, Mike. I can see something there!” I covered my eye again, peering into the blank grey nothing. And there it was again, the unwavering column of darkness, like a negative flare. “Okay, whatever,” he shrugged, shuffling his toes into the sand, “there’s some kind of mystery beacon out there that only you can see. Big deal. We’ll let the coast guard know and they can check it out. Or just tell us you’re nuts.” “No.” I sounded like a petulant kid. And I didn’t care. “I want to see what it is.” “You’re joking, right?” “We can hire a kayak and paddle out there. People do it all the time.” He bunched his hands in the pockets of his shorts, a sure sign of resistance. “No, Brooke. I’m not taking you out there.” I sniffed, snatching my towel and sandals, “Fine. I’ll go out myself.” It was manipulative and I knew it was. I could see the glassy panic rising in his eyes already at the thought of his cripple sister clumsily rowing out to sea, dashing herself against a dangerous crag of rock. He took his hands out of his pockets and picked up his backpack, every line of his body a quandary. “All right. You win. We’ll check it out quickly, but then we’re going home. The weather is turning to shit later this afternoon anyway. C’mon.” He held out one broad hand, and I grabbed it with my good arm, letting him pull me up from the sand.

  It was an easy row out to the island, though I don’t think I helped much. The two-seater kayak slid effortlessly through the bright water with Mike’s oar dipping and rising either side of the orange hull, each stroke strong and sure. It was farther than I’d thought, the distance from the shore deceptive, but the fresh tang of the ocean smelled good, like a promise. We beached on a narrow rind of sand on the far side. Mike hauled the vessel up onto the rocks and tied the lead rope securely around one of the stunted, thorny bushes. “Don’t want a freak wave to get it,” he told me, “there’s no way we’d be able to swim back.” Of course, he meant me. There was no way that I would be able to swim back, life vest or not; but he could easily save himself if some rogue tsunami washed the boat away. My hand over my good eye, I scanned about for the mystery beam, and found it immediately. It beckoned from the apex of the v-shaped slash of sand, cradled between rising rocks. By covering and uncovering my eye, watching it appear with blindness and disappear with sight, I could make out that it originated from somewhere beneath the ground. “Whatever’s making it is under the beach,” I explained, and I started to dig one-handed, conscious of how awkward I must look, like a child pretending to be a crane. Mike gave me a lopsided grin, something hopeful in the set of it, “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” “Jesus, Mike. No, I saw something, and we’re right on top of it. Either help me, or shut up.” Resigned, or more likely concerned that I’d hurt myself scrabbling in the hard-packed sand, he retrieved one of the oars out of kayak, “Here. This will make things faster. Just don’t break it, or we’ll lose the deposit.” We dug for maybe twenty minutes, slowly widening the ever-collapsing hole. When the blade of the oar struck something hard, I made a small and triumphant sound of excitement. “It’s probably just rock,” Mike cautioned. Ignoring him and my blisters, I kept digging.

  The circle of black metal sat on the sand. It was smaller than a sewer lid and thinner than a dinner plate, yet it was obscenely heavy and it had taken both of us to get it out of the hole. As we lifted it, the weight shifted alarmingly inside it, as though the object contained a sea of liquid lead. “What the hell is it?” I asked. Mike said nothing for a long moment. He stared at the thing we had unburied, wiping sweat from his shiny, shaved scalp. I stared at it too, but with my blind eye. The anti-light was still shining from it, dark and strong, straight up into the sky. The surface of the disc was neither cool nor hot, though the black metal should have quickly grown scalding beneath the afternoon sun. And Mike said he still couldn’t see even the vaguest hint of the beam rising from it. “This is starting to freak me out,” my brother husked finally, his voice low and uncertain. “Maybe it’s some kind of NASA black box?” I wondered, running my fingers over the slick, smooth surface, “maybe only special equipment can detect the beacon?” “Yeah, or only all their half-blind astronauts can see it.” He was trying hard, but he wasn’t even convincing himself. “Maybe you shouldn’t touch it. It could be radioactive.” I flattened my palms against it slowly, and grinned up at him, “If it is, then we’ve probably had lethal exposure already.” “Christ, Brooke! Why do you joke about shit like that?” My smile died. “I dunno. Just trying to lighten the mood.” Mike huffed out a breath, one short step away from picking me up and bodily hauling me out of range. “Look, we’re going to head back and call the authorities. Let them deal with the damn thing.” He was already unwinding the kayak rope and pushing the vessel back onto the sand. “Okay, whatever. I hope they give us a reward or something.” “I just hope they don’t lock us up,” Mike shot back. I stood over the object, looking down on it, still reluctant to leave it just lying there. What if it disappeared, and took the only thing my blind eye had ever been able to detect along with it? “Take a picture of me with it?” “God!” He saw the stubborn set of my chin, and knew we would get home quicker if he didn’t argue. “All right, fine. One pic, then we’re getting out of here.” He retrieved his phone from the waterproof pocket in his vest, and aimed it at me, tilting it to get both me and the object in the frame. “Okay, done. Let’s move.” “One more. I want one with me standing on it.” “Hurry up then.” I stepped off the sand and onto the disc of black metal. A wave of violent static discharge engulfed me, the crackle and shock of it terrifyingly familiar. And then the beach was gone, replaced by total darkness.

  My heart still beat. I seemed to be in some sort of cave, though ‘cave’ didn’t feel like quite the right word. While my good eye showed me only thick darkness, the view through my cataract was quite different. Everything had an anti-halo, strange and wrong, limned in black light. I could make out that the chamber around me was cramped and oval, the walls and ceiling oddly ribbed. Forcing my unused eye muscles to focus, I realised the ribs were metallic tubing, interspersed with humps of tangled, colourless cables. Ahead of me, the mouth of the chamber opened into a low tunnel, its construction much the same. The narrow throat curved to the right, and out of sight. A dull thump and CRACK! right behind me spiked my skull with sharp, instant fear. Pulse a drumbeat in my ears, I stayed crouched for a long moment, then turned slowly, instinctively shielding my face. It was Mike. Groping blindly, he started yelling my name, stumbling into the walls. I hadn’t heard him sound so panicked since the accident. “I’m here,” I called softly, touching his arm, “Mike, I’m right here.” “I can’t see anything,” he warbled, terror writ large on his broad features, eerie and distorted in the soft-hard shadows, “I can’t fucking see anything!” I took both his flailing hands in mine and soothed him until he stopped shaking. “It’s okay. I can see for both of us. We’re in some kind of cave, with tubes all over the walls. There’s a tunnel up ahead.” “A cave? That doesn’t… where the hell are we, B?” “I have no idea. But if we follow the tunnel, maybe we can find a way out.” The passage was far too low to stand up in, so we crabbed along painfully, bent over double, shuffling, sometimes crawling. My voice guiding him, Mike followed behind me. It took me some time to realise that the noise I kept hearing was his teeth clicking together as he shivered in the darkness. It was cold, much, much colder than the waning heat of the spring afternoon we had left behind, now just a memory, bright and distant. I could see my breath steaming in front of me, black as a cloud of ink in deep water, outlined by the maddening, impossible light. “You just… vanished,” my brother told me, his voice halting and stuttering between shivers, echoing strangely in the tunnel, “and I ran over. As soon as my feet touched it, I felt an electric shock. Then I was here.” “What happened to your phone?” “Gone. I must have dropped it. When it jolted me” The air tasted stale, flat and expired, and I couldn’t feel any breeze. A musty sourness choked my nose, as if old clothes, heavy with mildew, had been pulled from an ancient closet and puffed their invisible spores everywhere. My own teeth were chattering like castanets now, and Mike stopped talking completely, saving his energy as he thumped and groped blindly behind me. Just as I had decided the tunnel was going to go on forever, that we would freeze to death here in the dark, the passage began to widen. It rose abruptly, leading into a large, vaulted space. “There’s a chamber ahead,” I whispered to Mike, squinting back at the hunched, backlit shape that was my brother. His only response was to nod blindly, arms hugged over his chest for warmth.

  The floor and walls of our new, larger prison were built the same as the others. Whoever had built this place had an inexhaustible source of those monochrome tubes; only their width varied, every few feet punctuated with tangles of cabling like the huge nests of industrial rats. Rising above us, the cylinders converged at the apex of this chamber, then appeared to have melted together. The slick puddle rippled impossibly across the ceiling, thick rivulets flowing down in a complicated umbilical mess. Neither organic nor plastic, I thought of intestines, colourless mushrooms, the eyes of snails, watching those smaller filaments branching off and hanging in the air. They moved and quested lazily as our presence disturbed the stale atmosphere. Connected to some of those filaments were fleshless corpses. I had no doubt these were genuine remains. And I was just as certain they were not human. Each skeleton had two arms, but their bones were wrong; too simple, too heavy, too long. The cages of ribs were a complicated contrast, honeycombed with holes, as if eroded by the relentless black light that crawled and spilled through their substance. None possessed legs or pelvis, each strung-bead spine splayed into a horsetail of fattened filaments, grey as sick spittle and dissolving into the floor. I could not look for long at what had been their heads. Eyeless, jawless, smooth as a puffball fungus, each skull lolled on a neck with too many tapering vertebrae. Hundreds of wires pierced the uniform domes of black-grey bone, needles through eggshells. The only discernible facial features were the twin slits of nostrils, each as long as my index finger. “Holy… shit!” I clenched the words through juddering jaws. “What? Oh God, what is it, B?” “Bodies. Weird bodies. All tangled up in the tubes from the roof. It’s hard to explain.” Mike’s voice was broken, I heard the click of his throat as he swallowed saliva. “Can… can you see a way out?” “No. Not yet.” Stray filaments stretched and rose from the skulls of the dead creatures as I approached, their languid stir like the autonomic response of plants. Faint black light flickered at the ends of a few, winking in and out, like dying flashlights. The relentless cold had penetrated through to my bones, and I felt numb, my head filling with an unreal fog. Mike jogged on the spot behind me, his hands wrapped into his armpits. We needed a way out, and we needed to find it fast, before we froze to death. Reaching out to the swaying filaments, I touched a fingertip to the pulse of hypnotic anti-light, then snatched it back as a sucking heat flashed up my hand. “Mike! Over here, these things are warm.” As I held up my palms, more of the snaky filaments lifted from their skull-cradles, extending from their long-dead hosts and questing for my flesh. Warmth began to flow through me, such a blessed, comforting heat. I reluctantly drew away to prise the frozen meat of my brother’s shaking hands from his chest, thrusting them into the anemone heat. But when that forest of alien hairs grazed his skin, their reaction was very different. Mike’s scream of agony was a molten sound as they entered his fingers, burrowing slickly beneath his nails and deep into his hands. Black light bloomed around him like an alien flower. My equilibrium swayed as a queasy, sucking noise filled the room. Cables twisted and writhed all over the walls, revealing glimpses of other pulsing tunnels, then coalescing into purposeless tangles. But on the far wall, smooth as a camera’s aperture, the animate tubes dilated like a great iris. Revealing a huge window. Sunlight streamed in, but cold and distant; our familiar star greatly diminished in size. A blue-white marble floated far to the right, lonely, tiny, beautiful and terrifying. It was familiar from so many glossy space posters, overused in countless documentaries. I fixed it at the centre of my star cataract, and my scarred cornea wept tears of black light. Mike bubbled out a groan behind me, his arms blistered with tangled nodules, colonised by the parasitic worms of alien wires. “Oh god,” he moaned, his knees buckling, “Oh god, oh god!” The room shuddered, and the view through the window shifted faintly. “Brooke. Get… out. You need… to get out,” Michael whispered, each word an agony, each breath a laboured gulp. One arm twitched and spasmed, pointing toward an uncurling tangle on the floor. The deep black shine of metal, coalescing into a circle rising from the boil of cables, identical to the one on the beach. Mike’s skin was losing colour, draining to white, then no hue at all, and he fought as more filaments pierced his neck and cheeks, burrowing for his skull and the precious, energy-rich soup inside it. “I can fight you!” he screamed, his eyes welling anti-light and black blood, a spray of it as his head thrashed from side to side, “I’d fight anything for her! I can feel your thoughts like you can feel mine! I can destroy this ship, I just need to -” Black light seared the room, bright enough to burn my starblind eye. When it faded, only the wan sunlight from the viewing window remained, picking out the white bones of my brother, lovingly tangled in quivering wires.

    A passing fishing boat spotted me on the little island, shivering in the sand, my hands covered in strange pin-prick blisters. The disc was gone, and no column of black light shone into the heavens anymore. All that remained was a stupid crippled girl and her worthless, one-eyed tears. They searched for Mike for several weeks. Everyone was hopeful to start with, so reassuring, even though I told them it was futile from the start. He might have been lucky, they said, you just never know. They stopped saying those things after the first two weeks, and the search became an exercise in grimness as everyone had to admit we were looking for a body, not a person. And no matter how I told my story, or to whom, not a soul believed me. Just like them, you’ll all write my babbling off as insane, as the trauma-induced delusions of an already compromised girl. For a while, I even tried to believe they were right. I coached myself that I hadn’t seen those things, I couldn’t have visited an alien starship. Mike had just slipped on the slopes of the rocky islet and smashed his head as he fell into the sea. They found his phone, but it was so sodden and corroded that the photos were long gone, unrecoverable despite my initial insistence that the evidence was inside. But now, like the sea eating away those delicate circuits, any belief that I imagined it all is being eroded. The black light has returned. At first it was random flashes, like a stuttering searchlight in the sky. But as the fear-drenched nightmares of my screaming brother have diminished, the light has waxed ever stronger. The steady beam shines downwards this time, its steady gaze sweeping our planet, ever-widening, gathering power. Tonight, it is so brilliant that I can see everything, clear and cold, with both eyes; the right in grey-black monochrome, and the left in vibrant colour. I don’t know what it means. I don’t know what happens next. Perhaps some of you will die, your flesh instantly vaporised like that of my late brother. Or perhaps everything human must be sacrificed, living fuel for the unknown horror that lurks high above us. I think I might be able to see exactly what will happen, very soon. Tell your loved ones how much they mean to you. Treat each day on your little blue planet as a blessing. You’ve been living on borrowed time for far too long, and your luck has finally run out.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

[outletcheapggdb-blog]

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