#back injury attorney
Text
How to Avoid a Back Injury at Work (and What to Do When It Happens)
A back injury at work can be devastating in many ways. It can not just make it more difficult to do your job, it can make it more difficult to do anything. That said, if you’re like most people, you can’t simply choose to do your job in an entirely different way simply to prevent your back from the possibility of an injury. There are limited steps you can take to protect your back, but every little bit helps. If you do suffer a back injury at work, our Los Angeles back injury lawyer team can help.
Visit: https://tinyurl.com/4v6zcmc4
0 notes
Text
You stood up and paid the cost, I guess that truth and justice lost
So much for fighting like a Fey
#ace attorney#Mia fey#maya fey#turnabout musical#pwaa#turnabout sisters#ace attorney brain is back#i love you fey clan#also the new turnabout musical songs really got me#fuck man#ooughhhh#my doodles#blood tw#injury tw#death tw
708 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Dear Inferno,
I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.
(Sorry for misinterpreting your vague phrase.)
Not to mention one of the mods here, who has scoliosis just to be clear, has had it happen before and tested it and it’s hardly ever hurt their backs. It only does when you use extended force, but the distance is way too close for that to happen. He’d literally have to be bending down and slamming his back against the back wall by a great force, which didn’t happen. Just to prove it. This is where he starts before the slamming.
This is where it ends after the slamming.
The distance is far too close for there to be any back pains or injuries unless his back spine is more fragile than an average elderly person. The only parts of his body that would be in pain would be his face from the fall from the wall to the desk.
- Phoenix Wright
#ajanisapprentice#Phoenix Wright#Ryunosuke Naruhodo#Ace Attorney#Mod Commentary#I did actually test it and slamming my back that close doesn't do anything. The distance is far too close for that to cause any injuries#Please don't do this at home. I did because I'm insane
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Your Trusted Los Angeles Back Injury Attorney
Trust Conlogue Law, LLP to be your advocate in Los Angeles for back injury cases. Our experienced team understands the complexities of personal injury law, particularly when it comes to back injuries. Whether you've suffered from a workplace accident, car collision, or other incident, our attorneys are dedicated to securing the compensation you deserve. Contact us today for a consultation.
Find more at https://loksc.com/back-injury/
0 notes
Text
Navigating Back Injury Claims: Why You Need a Specialized Lawyer
Back injuries can be life-altering, impacting your physical health and entire livelihood. Whether it's a workplace incident, a car accident, or any other situation leading to a back injury, the aftermath can be overwhelming.
Amidst the pain and recovery, dealing with legal matters might seem like an additional burden, but here's where a specialized back injuries lawyer can make a monumental difference in your life.
Understanding the Complexity of Back Injury Cases
Back injuries are intricate, often causing long-term consequences. From herniated discs to spinal cord damage, these injuries can result in chronic pain, limited mobility, and sometimes even permanent disability. Seeking fair compensation for such injuries involves navigating a legal landscape that demands expertise and experience.
Why a Specialized Lawyer?
In-Depth Knowledge: A lawyer specializing in back injury cases deeply understands the medical complexities involved. They comprehend the medical jargon, understand your condition's severity, and can accurately articulate its impact on your life.
Navigating Legal Hurdles: Back injury claims can be challenging. Insurance companies might downplay the severity of your injury or try to offer insufficient compensation. A specialized lawyer knows these tactics and is adept at countering them, ensuring you're not shortchanged.
Building a Strong Case: These lawyers work with medical experts to build a robust case on your behalf. They gather evidence, medical records, and expert opinions to substantiate the impact of your injury, strengthening your claim for rightful compensation.
Negotiation Skills: Often, these cases are settled outside of court. A specialized lawyer is a skilled negotiator, advocating fiercely on your behalf to secure a settlement that reflects the extent of your injury and its repercussions.
Beyond their legal prowess, a specialized back injury lawyer understands the human side of your situation. They empathize with your pain and the challenges you face. Their goal isn’t just a legal victory; it’s ensuring you receive the support and compensation necessary for your recovery and future well-being.
Conclusion
Navigating a back injury claim requires more than just legal knowledge; it demands a nuanced understanding of medical intricacies and a commitment to securing rightful compensation for the victim. A specialized back injury lawyer serves as a beacon of hope, guiding you through this arduous process, striving for justice, and aiding your recovery journey.
0 notes
Text
Understanding Compensation for Back Injuries: What You Need to Know
Experiencing a back injury due to someone else's negligence brings about questions surrounding compensation. Individuals often wonder, "What can I expect in terms of compensation for my back injury?"
Compensation for back injuries typically covers a range of factors. This includes medical expenses, encompassing both immediate and future treatments, rehabilitation costs, and prescribed medications. Loss of income resulting from time away from work during recovery or potential long-term disability is also a key consideration.
Furthermore, the impact on your overall quality of life is factored in, with compensation addressing pain and suffering, emotional distress, and the loss of life's enjoyments. The severity of the injury and its lasting effects significantly contribute to determining the overall compensation amount.
Seeking guidance from a trustworthy back injury attorney is crucial to accurately evaluate your case. Many attorneys operate on a contingency fee basis, ensuring payment only upon a successful case outcome. Their expertise proves invaluable in navigating legal intricacies, negotiating with insurance companies, and pursuing rightful compensation for the physical and emotional toll of a back injury. Each case is unique, and partnering with a skilled attorney can make a substantial difference in securing a fair and just resolution.
0 notes
Text
THE DIVORCE OF THE CENTURY
TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS BETWEEN GRIAN AND GOODTIMESWITHSCAR, DAY 1:
His Hon. Judge BdoubleO100: Silence in the court!
[Court is not silent]
His Hon. Judge Bdubs: Silence in the COURT! I can have you all HANGED!
[The court falls as silent as is possible with a dozen Hermits present]
Judge Bdubs: Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—
Cleo: Ahem.
Judge Bdubs: WHAT?
Cleo: That’s for weddings, Bdubs. We’re not doing a wedding. In fact, if you think about it, this is about as far away from a wedding as you can get.
Judge Bdubs: Fine fine FINE. Dearly beloathed, we have all been dragged here today because SOME PEOPLE can’t get ALONG. Grian, step forward!
Grian: Do I— is this the podium for witnesses? Who built this and why did they make it out of nothing but trapdoors? So. Okay. I’m filing for divorce.
Scar: Wait, I thought I was filing for divorce.
Judge Bdubs: LET THE DEFENDANT SPEAK.
Ren: Bdubs, my man, that’s the petitioner. The court hasn’t accused Grian of any crimes.
Cleo: [darkly] Yet.
Grian: I haven’t done any crimes! I’m filing for divorce from Scar, obviously. As my lawyer will tell you—
Judge Bdubs: Do you have a lawyer?
Grian: Yes, your Honor. This is my defense lawyer Mumbo Jumbo Esq. [Waggles a hand behind his back and hisses] Mumbo!
Judge Bdubs: Mumbo’s your defense lawyer? Aren’t you supposed to have a divorce lawyer?
Mumbo: [steps forward and bows nervously] Well, I’ve never divorced anyone, but I have got a lot of experience in defending, er, mainly myself, come to think of it, and also my valuables. From Grian, as a matter of fact. So I think I’ll stick with ‘defense lawyer’ if that’s alright with the court, thank you.
Judge Bdubs: [leans aside to confer with Cleo] Is that alright with the court? Ask Joe.
[Court Scribe JoeHills confirms this is probably alright with the court]
Judge Bdubs: Good, good, next! Scar, do you have a lawyer?
Scar: Oh, absolutely. My lawyer is this cat I found outside.
Judge Bdubs: Not Jellie?
Scar: Jellie doesn’t believe we’re really divorcing and wouldn’t come.
Judge Bdubs: Is this cat a qualified divorce lawyer?
Scar: She’s a—let me look at those markings—she’s clearly a personal injury attorney.
Cleo: Have you been personally injured, Scar?
Scar: Why, thank you for asking, I have. My feelings have been very hurt!
Ren: Uh, Bdubs, maybe the court should establish some facts. Why they’re divorcing, what the court can do for them, that sort of thing.
Judge Bdubs: YES. Let’s start with the facts. Now, we all know why you and Scar got married in the first place. Don’t stand there and make that innocent face at me, Grian, I know all the secrets. You got married because Etho and I had the WEDDING OF THE CENTURY last month and you were JEALOUS—no, don’t talk, THE JUDGE IS TALKING—you were jealous of us. [aside] Bdubs and Etho had the wedding of the century, Joe, are you writing this down?
Court Scribe JoeHills: Yep, your Honor, I’ve written that down.
Grian: It wasn’t that good.
Judge Bdubs: YOU TAKE THAT BACK.
Grian: Etho had his bouquet wrapped in a Kleenex box.
Scar: [sentimentally] Don’t you listen to him, Bdubs, I thought the flower arch was lovely.
Judge Bdubs: Thank you, Scar! I—
Cleo: You can’t find in favor of Scar because he said something nice about your own wedding decorations.
Judge Bdubs: [with dignity] —was NOT going to do that. Ahem. So, you and Scar got married because you were jealous—
Grian: We didn’t! It wasn’t like that!
Judge Bdubs: —and now you want to get divorced. Why?
[At this point Petitioner Grian and Petitioner Scar, who have been studiously avoiding each other’s gazes, appear to lock eyes by accident. They both jerk away like they’ve touched a blaze rod. Grian immediately swivels to face the bench, and this scribe has to note that at normal times Grian’s stare is disconcertingly like two soulless voids looking back at you, so it’s even worse when he’s attempting a poker face. Scar becomes very interested in his cat defense lawyer and doesn’t look at Grian at all.]
Grian: The thing is, you see, this marriage was a scam from the start.
*
EVIDENCE #1
[Dramatization by Court Scribe from participant testimony]
One month previously, a note landed in Scar’s bedroom attached to a firework rocket with a red bow and rose. This was very romantic, or at least it would have been romantic if the rocket hadn’t lodged in the rafters and set itself and a chunk of the surrounding wall on fire, but in any case it was clearly Grian making an effort, so Scar deciphered the coordinates scribbled on the charred note and set off to find out what was going on.
They pointed to a spot in the middle of nowhere. In Scar’s long experience of Grian, this meant an equal chance that they were going to make out or he was going to get inventively murdered, but this was always a gamble worth the odds.
But when he arrived, on a green hill in a quiet spot of the server, it was neither. The top of the hill had been leveled off and covered with birch wood, on which Grian was industriously spelling out something with white wool, though Scar couldn’t make out the words from his low angle of approach. Grian stopped when he spotted Scar and launched up to meet him. His wings beat so fast they were nearly vibrating.
“Scar,” Grian said, “Scar.” His grin was one of a cat who had stolen not only the cream, but the milk, the cow, and everyone else’s cows for good measure. “Scar, I’ve had an idea.”
This was clearly a planning-a-prank type of meeting, which probably meant no making out, but Grian’s pranks were not to be missed. “I’m in,” Scar said. “Do we get fancy costumes? I want a fancy costume.”
“No, Scar, that’s not the point—wait, yes, actually.” Grian angled his wings to carve tight spirals around Scar’s coasting flight, always a sign of excitement, and nudged the angle of their joint descent to land on top of the white wool scrawls. “Yes, fancy costumes are a big part of it, but that’s not—listen, this is my big gesture. Just look down.”
Scar looked down. The wool said, WILL YOU MARR.
“I ran out of wool,” Grian said. He flapped a hand. “Just because it’s a big gesture doesn’t mean it has to be finished.”
“What was it supposed to say?” Scar said innocently.
“Scar!” Grian shifted from foot to foot when he got agitated, which was always funny. “Fine! Okay! Stand there.”
The hidden trapdoor beneath their feet gave way as Grian pressed a switch. Scar yelped for form’s sake, but nothing exploded, and the only thing at the bottom of their tumbled slide was an underground bunker.
It had a table, and two chairs, and a huge corkboard on the otherwise blank walls. Grian had always had a thing for bunkers.
“This,” Grian said, with a flourish, “is the Wedding War Room.”
Scar looked around the bunker and asked the important question. “Are you going to decorate it?”
“Am I going to—no, listen, that’s not the point either. You can decorate it, if you want. The point is, you know how Bdubs and Etho got married?”
“It was beautiful,” Scar agreed immediately. “That wedding chapel? Incredible, honestly, Bdubs is a true artist. Oh! Remember the part where Etho put a river of lava through the chapel roof and glitched it into a heart?”
“Okay, but, you know what Bdubs and Etho got?
“Eternal happiness?”
“Scar.”
“No, what?”
“Bdubs and Etho got royal diamonds,” Grian said impressively. “From the vault.”
“Are they still royal diamonds if Ren’s not king anymore?” Scar said. “I thought we blew up the vault, anyway. You blew it up. I was there.”
“Do you pay any attention to anything that’s not Scarland?” Grian said. “Mumbo didn’t know what to do with the diamonds so he and Iskall built a new vault. I think Mumbo and Iskall and Impulse are the only ones who really know how to get into it. Anyway, everyone got so warm and fuzzy about Bdubs and Etho’s wedding that they all decided to open the vault up and just gave them diamonds.”
“Free diamonds?” Scar said thoughtfully.
“Free diamonds!” Grian’s eyes glittered. “Think of that vault. Stacks on stacks on stacks of diamonds. Thousands of diamonds! We could have some of those, for nothing, just by saying some words. And that’s not even mentioning the wedding presents! We’re out here spending days and days grinding resources and stocking our shops when we could be swimming in it! That could be us, Scar.” Scar had entirely forgotten the lack of interior decorations; he always did, when Grian got on a roll as mesmerizing as this.“And so,” Grian took a deep breath and held out his hand, “Scar, will you marry me?”
Scar took his hand with an enormous wave of affection. “Grian,” he said sincerely, “I have never, in my whole life, wanted to marry anyone more.”
*
EVIDENCE #2
Mumbo took the news more earnestly than Grian had expected.
“Oh,” said Mumbo. “Oh, haha, wow—seriously? Scar said something and I thought it was just a joke, but you guys actually… Wow!” He cleared his throat. “Grian, mate, it’s been a long time coming. I’m so happy for you.”
“Don’t get sappy,” Grian said. “It’s just a wedding. I mean,” he clarified, “it’s a very important wedding, obviously, because it’s my wedding, but I don’t need you to get sappy about it. I don’t even need you to talk about it. I just need you to bring diamonds.”
“I didn’t even know you were going to ask him,” Mumbo said, ignoring the very clear instructions Grian had just given him. “Or did he ask you, or—mate, that’s just brilliant. This is brilliant. Is it because Bdubs and Etho had that wedding? That was really beautiful, I don’t mind saying, I got a little bit teary.”
“This has nothing to do with any weddings anyone else had,” Grian said with dignity. “Our wedding will be better, but that’s unrelated. I didn’t come here to talk about that. I came here to ask you something.” He took hold of Mumbo’s hand in the most meaningful grip he could muster. “Mumbo, we’ve been friends for years, right?”
“Of course,” Mumbo said nervously.
Grian gave it a second’s pause for the sake of drama. “Mumbo Jumbo, will you be my best man?”
“Ah,” Mumbo said, which was not what Grian had expected. “Ah. Er. Might be a problem there.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Well, you see, five minutes ago, Scar…”
*
EVIDENCE #3
<Grian> scar
<Grian> scar
<Grian> scar
<GoodTimeWithScar> yES?
<Grian> my base.
<Grian> now.
<GoodTimeWithScar> On my way
GoodTimeWithScar hit the ground too hard
<GoodTimeWithScar> oNE MINUTE
<Grian> come in the back door
GoodTimeWithScar hit the ground too hard
<GoodTimeWithScar> Was that a trap??
<Grian> mumbo is mine
<GoodTimeWithScar> No he isn’t, Mister!
GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Ravager
GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Ravager
GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Ravager
GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Ravager
Grian was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [HoTgUy]
<Grian> MUMBO IS MINE
GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Vindicator
GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Ravager
Grian was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [HoTgUy]
<Renthedog>: :o
GoodTimeWithScar burned to death
<Renthedog> Everything okay there, gentlemen?
<Grian> best man debate
GoodTimeWithScar was poked to death by a sweet berry bush
<Grian> all settled now
<Renthedog> wait
<EthosLab> Wait
<BdoubleO100> WAIT
<TangoTek> are you two…?
<Grian> invitations dropping tomorrow. wedding gift mandatory.
<GoodTimeWithScar> Come one, Come all!
<Grian> only diamonds will be considered real presents
<PearlescentMoon> huh
<impulseSV> omg finally! So happy for you guys!
<PearlescentMoon> be honest Grian, is this because Bdubs and Etho got married and you had to one-up them?
<Grian> NO IT IS NOT
*
EVIDENCE #4
The bachelor party negotiations were even more hard-fought than the best man.
They held the impromptu negotiations in the Wedding War Room, which was now covered with loving maps and hundreds of bits of paper that neither of them had read since putting them up there. They looked good, though, so Scar kept adding more.
There was a pile of paper strips on the table in front of them. Scar and Grian sat facing off like two negotiators at a ceasefire.
“Mumbo’s my best man,” Grian said, picking the first name off the pile without breaking eye contact and moving it to his side of the table, “so he comes to my party.” Scar gave in with a modicum of grace. The possibility of having bachelor parties at different times had been wordlessly considered and then summarily dismissed by both combatants.
Scar escalated it to a blood sport as he picked up the next bit of paper. “Pearl’s coming to my party.”
Grian yelped and grabbed Scar’s wrist. “She is not. I knew her first!”
“I know her better,” Scar countered. “Or at least,” he added, “I know her building style better.”
“You can’t just steal my friend because you like her building! That’s not how that works!”
“I think she’d enjoy it,” Scar said meditatively. “I’m going to have champagne. Glitter. Razzmatazz.”
“I will have more champagne,” Grian said mutinously. He hadn’t taken his hand off Scar’s wrist. “And more razzmatazz. You can’t have Pearl.”
“Oh, all right then,” Scar said, since Pearl was one of Grian’s oldest friends and he’d never had a chance of getting her anyway. Grian plucked the piece of paper out of his hand and put it on top of Mumbo’s paper. “I get Bdubs, though.”
That was a given. Grian didn’t seriously dispute it, though he opened his mouth to try. “I—yes, fine. You can have Bdubs.” Scar swept the piece of paper to his own side of the table.
“And that means,” Scar proceeded, with the grand momentum of a train starting to roll, “that I get Etho, as well.” He shuffled through the bits of paper and displayed Etho’s name like a magic trick.
He watched Grian calculate his chances of getting Etho if Bdubs was going to Scar’s party. “…okay, yeah, you get Etho.”
“Also that means I get Cleo,” Scar said. “She’ll come if Bdubs does. We don’t want to split up friends.” He drew Cleo’s name towards him, sliding another couple of slips underneath it at the same time. “Oh, and Joe as well, if Cleo’s coming.”
“What’s that other one?” Grian said suspiciously. He trapped Scar’s hand and pried out the third name. “What—no, you can’t have Ren.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Scar said in his most reasonable voice. “Hear me out. I have Cub, right?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Well, I have Cub, and Bdubs, and Cleo, and Joe, so, by royal decree…”
“You can’t have Ren just because the five of you were in a royal murder cult with him!”
“Excuse me, mister, that wasn’t a cult. That was the royal court!”
“It was too a cult,” said Grian, a man who had once persuaded Ren into living in camper vans in the woods with him for weeks in order to break into a military base and steal a magic box.
Ren’s name was already safely on Scar’s side of the table. “And if I have Ren, then I have to have Doc—”
“Look, Scar, if you get all of Bdubs’ current and former exes—”
“—what’s a ‘current ex’—”
“—Etho and don’t interrupt me, if you get everyone Bdubs has ever had a relationship plus their plus ones you get ninety percent of our friends.”
“Is it my fault I throw good parties?” Scar protested. “Look, you can have—”
“I’m having Impulse,” Grian interrupted, pulling his name out. “I need more redstoners.”
“What for?”
Grian waved a hand. “You just need them around.” Scar nodded, unable to find a flaw in the logic. “Also I get Joel. And Martyn. And Timmy.”
“I built Jimmy a train,” Scar objected. He put his fingertips on the other end of Jimmy’s name while Grian attempted to steal it.
“All right, this is the ‘disputed’ pile,” Grian said, pushing it to the side. “Who else?”
Now they had a disputed pile, it started filling up. “If I have Cleo,” Scar said, “then technically I should have Scott—”
“You can’t keep using that trick!”
“Then how are we going to fix it, Grian?” Scar’s tone was eminently reasonable. “I think we should just let people be friends.”
“They are friends,” Grian said. “They’re friends with me.”
“They could be friends with me.”
“Tell you what,” Grian said, a warlike gleam coming into his eyes. “We’ll ask them.”
*
TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):
Judge Bdubs: So that’s how the split started?
Cleo: You weren’t even married at that point.
Grian: Right! Exactly! We weren’t even married and Scar used underhand methods to steal my friends!
Scar: Excuse me. You went around the server threatening everyone who you didn’t think was coming to your party. Talk about underhand methods! I just offered them a good time.
Grian: Your bribed them! You bribed them to come to your bachelor party! [stabs a finger at Judge Bdubs] You even bribed him, so I don’t know why we put him in charge of this divorce.
Judge Bdubs: Nobody is allowed to question the integrity of the judge! I am as PURE AS THE DRIVEN SNOW.
Scar: That’s a good point. I gave you netherite, Bdubs, you should be ruling in my favor.
Judge Bdubs: You gave me ONE netherite ingot, I’m not giving you a ruling for that.
Scar: Grian, I think this judge is biased.
Judge Bdubs: HOW DARE YOU.
Grian: Scar is right, this judge is corrupt! I can’t believe we were forced into this farce of a trial and the judge is corrupt! Joe, I demand a new judge.
[Court Scribe JoeHills indicates that he is pretty sure this whole divorce trial was Grian’s idea in the first place, and also that judges cannot usually be replaced just like that, and the Court Scribe personally does not have a reserve list]
Judge Bdubs: I refuse to SIT HERE and be SLANDERED! You’re both guilty! [slams gavel] TAKE THEM TO THE DUNGEONS.
[Court Scribe JoeHills confirms that the petitioners have not actually been accused of anything—despite obviously having committed many crimes, Cleo would like to me to record—so cannot be found guilty, and in any case we don’t have any dungeons]
Judge Bdubs: Fine! I give up! CLEO, YOU’RE THE JUDGE NOW.
Judge Cleo: Wait, am I?
[Judge Bdubs forcibly transfers the judicial wig to Cleo, upon which the snakes in her hair make a spirited attempt to eat it.]
Scar: Can we get on with it?
Judge Cleo: Yes, you can shut up. You can all shut up! Thank you. That’s better. Are you sure you two can’t just settle it out of court so we can all go home?
Grian: No, we can’t. Me and Scar have [checks his notes] undergone an irreparable breakdown.
Scar: Sure, we might have had an eruptable breakdown, but you can’t say it was my fault. I tried to make it work. I built us a honeymoon island! It had palm trees and deckchairs and everything. I’m coming here in good faith and I deserve to be the innocent party.
Grian: I want all the diamonds Scar has.
Judge Cleo: Joe, is he allowed to ask for that?
[Court Scribe diligently references the law summary he found on the internet, suggests that at this stage the judge can grant temporary financial orders on petitioner request]
Grian: Fine, I want half of Scar’s diamonds.
Scar: I need all my diamonds for Scarland materials!
Grian: They’re not your diamonds! They’re my diamonds!
Scar: Then I get half of all your dark prismarine, thank you very much, that will be amazingly useful.
Grian: You’re not touching my dark prismarine! I’ll sell it all if you try!
Judge Cleo: Nobody is touching anyone else’s anything! Ren, stop laughing, this is a serious courtroom. Grian, you’re not allowed to sell your dark prismarine. Scar, you’re not allowed to hide any of your diamonds. Everyone is going to keep things exactly as they are until this trial is done.
Grian: Do you trust him? Look at him, look at his face, would you trust that man? Of course you wouldn’t! All the diamonds should stay in my base while we’re having the trial.
Scar: This is outrageous! This is an outrageous demand! You can’t just question a man’s honor like that!
Judge Cleo: Well, put them somewhere safe. Joe can keep them.
Grian: [grudgingly] I suppose we could put them in the Royal Vault.
Judge Cleo: You want to put your valuables in escrow?
Scar: I don’t see what birds have to do with it.
[Short pause while the concept of ‘escrow’ is explained to both petitioners]
Scar: Well, I’ll do it, but I think Grian should put all his resources in nestcrow. Seeing as it’s all his fault.
Grian: I did everything right! I was the perfect groom!
Judge Cleo: You know, Grian, somehow I have my doubts. Go back to your marriage testimony. What happened next?
*
EVIDENCE #5
“Ahem,” said Mumbo. “Ahem.”
Grian rolled his eyes, jumped up on a table, decided that wasn’t good enough, flew up and perched on the light fitting, and yelled, “Everyone! It’s happening! The best man is speaking!”
Silence fell.
“I was actually going to announce you,” Mumbo said. He cleared his throat. “All right! So! This… is a bachelor party!”
The bachelor party–all three of them–looked at each other.
“Woohoo!” said Iskall.
“Party time!” tried Pearl gamely.
“I was promised champagne,” said Scott, who had been lured through the portal with one bribe only.
“There will be champagne,” said Mumbo. “As best man, it is my job to plan the bachelor party, and to plan a party that is… appropriate, and thoughtful, and informed by my long friendship with Grian, so,” he coughed, “if everyone could check the boxes under their chairs for supplies, we do have an event. Sort of thing. Kind of a party game.”
“Er,” said Pearl, checking under her chair. “This is… quite a lot of...”
Iskall started to giggle.
“Seriously, I was promised champagne,” said Scott.
“Yes, yes, we’ll get to that,” Mumbo said. “First, we’re going to sneak into the other party and blow them all up.”
“...so many ender crystals…” whispered Pearl.
“Look how they sparkle!” said Iskall.
“What about the—”
“And! When they’re all dead,” said Mumbo, “we can take their champagne.”
Grian flew down from the light fitting and landed in front of Mumbo. His eyes were shining. He took Mumbo’s hands in his. “Mumbo,” he breathed. “I’ve changed my mind. Can I marry you instead?”
“Er,” said Mumbo. “No?”
“Did you even order any refreshments?” said Scott.
“Listen,” Mumbo said, “it’s Grian’s party, we were going to end up doing this anyway, and it’ll be fun.”
“Dibs on blowing up Scar!” said Grian.
“We understand, Grian,” said Pearl.
“I suppose that’s sort of romantic?” said Scott in an undertone. “You’d think he’d have more trauma about it, after all the–”
“This is going to be so funny,” Grian said, scooping up handfuls of ender crystals. “Best–best man–ever.”
*
EVIDENCE #6
The actual wedding was a subdued affair.
The wedding venue had just about survived, by virtue of being several hundred blocks away from either bachelor party, though the smoking craters were visible in the background. From the front, the building was a charming mansion with flowers in every window. From every other angle it might be a gray shell, but Grian was a very busy person who was getting married and he couldn’t be expected to get to everything.
On the morning of the wedding, when Grian finally pieced himself together and dragged himself back from respawn he was met by the two Best Man candidates: Mumbo, who was sitting on the step of the venue dismally trying to piece his scorched suit back together, and Cub, who was completely unruffled and appeared to be doing a crossword.
“Oh, Grian, you made it.” Mumbo abandoned his scorched hems in relief. “Some people haven’t even respawned yet. We really do need Scar, though—”
“I’m here! I’m here!” Scar, impeccably dressed in a blue morning suit, swooped in from above, trailing flowers and losing his top hat in the process. “Gosh. Nobody else made it, huh?”
“I don’t believe this,” Grian said. “None of them?”
“Weren’t you supposed to open the portal again for the Empires people?”
“I forgot,” Grian said. “But we can’t focus on that. We have to focus on the fact that at least twenty Hermits promised to come, and now they aren’t here.”
“I, um,” Mumbo said. “I take full responsibility for the original idea, but I think the seventh time you blew up Bdubs and Ren and Doc and Zedaph you did blow up all their stuff as well. And I think some people got hit so hard they won’t respawn for a week.”
“That was their fault,” Grian said. “For being in the way of my ender crystals.”
“Seven times?” Cub said.
“Oh, as if you’ve never blown up someone and all their stuff seven times and pushed their respawn into next week.”
“So, what?” Scar said. “Do we just…not have a wedding?”
Mumbo coughed. “I think you should still get married.”
“What?”
“I just think,” Mumbo gestured vaguely. “You know, your whole thing. And Jevin made you the suits and everything. It would be a shame. You could have an intimate wedding without any guests, you know. I’m just saying.”
Grian attempted to trade a skeptical look with Scar. This didn’t work, as Scar had gone faintly red and wasn’t looking at him. “An intimate wedding, you mean, right here?” Scar said. “Now? Oh, yes, of course, but you know, now I come to think about it, I don’t know I can get married.”
This smelled like weakness. “What’s wrong with marrying me?” Grian demanded. “Are you backing out?”
“No, I—I need my top hat! I can't get married without my top hat!”
“Are you scared, Scar?”
“Of course I'm not scared!” Scar said indignantly. “We’ll do it right now! Who’s marrying us? Oh—Joe’s still respawning, isn’t he? Cub, you can do it, can’t you? Cub’s an ordained priest, you know.”
“That’s right,” Cub said agreeably.
“Is he?” Grian said suspiciously. “Which religion?”
Cub’s faint smile didn’t change at all. “Don’t worry about that.”
“You don’t want to think too hard about it,” Scar said breezily. “But he’s very official! Very well-respected in the community.”
In all their planning, Grian had given no thought at all to the actual wedding. He was nearly certain that the chanting from the officiant was supposed to be pleasant and inoffensive, about, well, love and stuff, and he was also fairly sure the officiant’s eyes were not supposed to turn black as a flaming rift appeared behind him spewing an unknowable sense of dread, but at that point Scar kissed Grian thoroughly, and that lasted so long that Mumbo had to break it up after a few minutes with a polite cough, and by that time Cub had finished chanting and gone back to his crossword.
“That was very touching,” Mumbo said, apparently relieved they weren’t still kissing right in front of him. “Shame about the guests, but you can’t have everything.”
“Shocking,” Scar agreed. “Do they still have to give us presents? Maybe if we waited a week and did it again? I have to say, I could use a little more time to get the trees right on Honeymoon Island.”
“We’re not having a honeymoon, Scar, I told you,” Grian said. “This wedding is just business, and we don’t have any business without the presents.”
Mumbo was wearing the expression that Grian had always vaguely compared to an accountant breaking the bad news about something unspeakable going on in the stockmarket. “To be honest with you,” Mumbo said, “I don’t think many of them were in a present-giving mood. I think, um, you might have to write off the presents.”
“Are you telling me,” Grian said, “that this whole scheme has been a complete failure?”
*
TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):
Judge Cleo: So, let me get this straight, the plan was to scam all of us—
Scar: Scam is a strong word. More like a trade, if you think about it! A trade where we get presents and you get a warm sense of fuzziness and wellbeing.
Judge Cleo: —exactly, to scam us, and it all went wrong, and you realized the marriage was a mistake? That was weeks ago, though. What happened between that and the divorce?
*
EVIDENCE #7
LIST OF POST-WEDDING WRONGDOING COMMITTED BY GRIAN AND SCAR, VARIOUS (condensed from two hours of court arguments)
i. “Well, then I took some deepslate from Grian because I needed it for Scarland, which is just borrowing, if you think about it.”
ii. “Scar really owed me diamonds because it was his fault the scam didn’t work.”
iii. Lengthy descriptions of the damage from ensuing weeks-long prank war.
iv. “He should honestly have expected me to put chickens in his storage system.”
v. Evidence received from Xisuma that this lagged out the entire server.
vi. Evidence received from Grian that Scarland lags out the entire server anyway and this is probably a crime so why can’t the court do something about that.
vii. Strong representations from both sides that the other one snores and hogs the covers and this probably ought to be a crime.
*
TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):
Judge Cleo: [face down on judicial bench] Have they stopped talking yet?
Court Scribe JoeHills: No, they’re still going.
*
EVIDENCE #8
FURTHER LIST OF WRONGDOINGS COMMITTED BY GRIAN AND SCAR
viii. “Yes I did blow him up after that, but it’s not illegal if it’s funny.”
ix. Complicated debate about whether ensuing sabotage was funny enough not to be illegal.
x. Representations from Grian that everything is Scar’s fault with absolutely no legal backing at all.
xi. Representations from Scar, ditto, with the addition of fake law he says his cat defense attorney told him.
xii. At this point, Court Scribe JoeHills has given up attempting to make sense of the petitioners’ ongoing argument.
*
TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):
Judge Cleo: Enough! ENOUGH! No! Shut up! If I have to listen to one more attempt at utterly specious reasoning from either of you I am going to pick up this gavel and I am going to drive its handle through my own skull. This is definitely both your fault, you are terrible people, and I hope you get divorced harder than anyone has ever got divorced in history.
[Mildly stunned silence in the court]
Judge Cleo: Right. Good. I am about to quit. But before I quit, because Joe asked me nicely to come here today, I am going to order one of you to serve the other with divorce papers before tomorrow. That’s the next thing on the list: one of you has to formally divorce the other. No, I am not going to hear any more arguments, I’m done with this whole thing, you can find a new judge. Yes, Scar?
Scar: [lowers his tentatively raised hand] How do we know which one divorces the other one?
Judge Cleo: [looks blank] Well… I suppose it’s who serves their papers first?
*
COMPLAINT TO COURT:
Submitter of complaint: SCAR
Body of complaint: Grian wont accept divorce papers and keeps avoiding me.
COMPLAINT TO COURT:
Submitter of complaint: GRIAN
Body of complaint: scar didn’t take a single copy of the papers despite the fact i filled his bedroom with them
COMPLAINT TO COURT:
Submitter of complaint: SCAR
Body of complaint: Grian paid impulse to make a divorce paper printing redstone machine. It feels like this, should be Illegal!
COMPLAINT TO COURT:
Submitter of complaint: GRIAN
Body of complaint: scar employed my best man to make him a rival printing machine. this is sabotage.
COMPLAINT TO COURT:
Submitter of complaint: ZEDAPH
Body of complaint: Er, I know you’re doing a whole trial thingummy, but I would really like to be able to move around my base without swimming through mountains of divorce papers. Does it look like this is going to be possible any time in the near future?
COMPLAINT TO COURT:
Submitter of complaint: DOCM77
Body of complaint: WHY HAVE SEVENTY THOUSAND BADLY-PRINTED COPIES OF DIVORCE PAPERS BEEN SHOVELED INTO THE PERIMETER! I AM HOLDING ALL OF YOU PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE! I WILL RAIN DOWN FIRE AND BLOOD!
*
TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 2:
Judge Mumbo: Right, so, apparently I’m supposed to be ruling on who served who with papers.
Scar: Excuse me! Objection! This new judge is clearly biased.
Grian: No, he’s not. This is all completely fine. Mumbo can be the judge now, and he can just wear a different hat when he’s being my lawyer.
Judge Mumbo: I am a bit biased, I have to admit.
Grian: No you’re not, Mumbo.
Scar: Admit it, there can’t be a fair trial for Grian under these circumstances!
Judge Mumbo: Uh—
Scar: Because I know Mumbo, and he can’t resist these…HoTgUy abs!
[Minor chaos as the court attempts to enforce a dress code]
Judge Mumbo: [removes his wig] Sorry, Grian, he’s right. Scar’s papers are accepted.
Grian: TRAITOR.
Mumbo: Scar, can I have another calendar?
*
TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 3:
Judge Ren: Court is called to order! Where’s—oh, there you are. Scar, you’re late.
Scar: Sorry! I was working on our honeymoon island.
Grian: What do you mean, our honeymoon island? Scar, we’re divorcing.
Scar: That doesn't mean you can just abandon a build, Grian. Some of us don't leave our backsides unfinished.
Cleo: Someone please get Ren a glass of water, I think he’s going to choke.
Judge Ren: Ahem. Now, gentlemen, I understand Scar is filing for divorce from Grian on the grounds of [checks his notes] desertion, abandonment, and unreasonable behavior.
Grian: Excuse me, what! If I’ve been unreasonable, what about him?
Scar: I have been a model of rationality and recti— rectic— ridiclitude.
Judge Ren: Indeed. I have heard Scar always finishes his backsides.
Grian: I’ll give you unreasonable behavior! This whole thing is your fault! If your bachelor party hadn’t been so badly defended I wouldn’t have been able to blow you all up.
Scar: Well, mister, if you hadn’t overthrown Ren in the first place he might have shown up to our wedding in spite of it!
Grian: If you’d been better at your job I wouldn’t have been ABLE to overthrow him!
Scar: You—you—oooh, I oughta—
Grian: [tauntingly] Ought to what?
Judge Ren: Scar, no, not in court…!
Scar: HOTGUY! [Retrieves bow from improbably small pocket and summarily murders his co-petitioner on the witness. Chaos ensues. Trial name hastily changed.]
TRANSCRIPT OF TRIAL PROCEEDINGS FOR THIRD-DEGREE MURDER, DAY 1:
Judge Ren: Listen, Scar, did you, or did you not, kill another petitioner right in front of me?
Scar: What? Oh, yeah, I just shot Grian.
Judge Ren: You can’t just—My dude, this might have been a crime of passion, but you understand this is a court and that was murder, right?
Cleo: Objection.
Judge Ren: Yes?
Cleo: We can’t start prosecuting for murder now.
[Pause as the court considers the comprehensive history of all Hermits present.]
TRANSCRIPT OF TRIAL PROCEEDINGS FOR THIRD-DEGREE MURDER, DAY 1
TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 3:
Judge Ren: [once Grian has returned from spawn] You’re going to have to come to some sort of agreement, gentlemen. It’s been days.
Grian: I think we should fight.
Judge Ren: This court does not do trial by combat. I refuse to be witness to such barbarity.
Cleo: I mean…if you think about it, it would stop them arguing.
Judge Ren: …
Judge Ren: I think I could stand to watch someone else compromise their morals. From a distance. Who wants this wig?
Judge Pearl: [settling in at the bench] Right! I think you two should fight. To the death.
Grian: LET’S FIGHT.
Judge Pearl: Riding ravagers.
Scar: What?
Judge Pearl: It would be funny.
Scar: Ravagers, though—
Grian: Don’t listen to Scar, he just murdered me. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on.
Scar: Alright! Alright, we can fight, but I’m only doing it if it’s somewhere dramatic.
Grian: …What do you mean, dramatic?
*
TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 3 (CONTINUED):
[The court has moved proceedings from its custom-built courthouse to a location considered ‘acceptably dramatic’ by Petitioner Scar. We are now in the dim, cavernous monolith of the Royal Vault, where the walls are sheer deepslate lit only by flickering lanterns, and mountains of diamonds and chests gleam softly in the shadowed gloom. The court is gathered here to watch the petitioners fight symbolically over their own escrowed valuables, which are piled in the middle of a stone platform built by Grian and Pearl, and see a final conclusion to this bitterly-fought split. At either end of the platform are pens with two enraged ravagers donated by Tango, salivating at the buffet of violence and blood about to—]
Judge Pearl: [leans over the edge of her observation chair] Joe! What are you doing down there scribbling?
Court Scribe JoeHills: Oh, I’m just adding narrative color.
Judge Pearl: Well, stop doing that and pay attention to the fight! We’re about to start!
Bdubs: FIGHT!
Cub: Let’s go!
Mumbo: Grian, mate, you’ve got this.
Bdubs: RUN HIM THROUGH, SCAR. TEACH HIM TO MAKE FUN OF MY WEDDING DECORATIONS.
Doc: What happens if they both die? I would like them both to die.
Judge Pearl: Contestants! Mount your steeds!
Grian: [has succeeded in landing on his ravager’s back, something Scar has not yet managed] I want you to know, Scar, that whatever happens—
Judge Pearl: Scar! You can’t just stand there, you have to TRY to ride it.
Grian: —I think we can count this as a—
Bdubs: FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!
Scar: [his head comes up to look at Grian] —a double victory?
[As if this is a code word, Grian and Scar’s gazes meet. The Court Scribe feels obliged to note that when Grian and Scar smile at the same time, history suggests something terrible is about to happen.]
Scar: Well, hello there, Mister Ravager! Would you like to get out of that pen?
Bdubs: Wait, what’s he—Scar, you ain’t supposed to break the wall that lets them at us! SABOTAGE!
Judge Pearl: GRIAN!
Grian: [shrieking as his ravager swerves into the crowd of spectators] Scar! The switch!
[Your trusty Court Scribe hurriedly dives out of the way as Scar flings himself into the pile of his and Grian’s valuables, where the tell-tale glint of redstone has been hidden under the piles of chests.]
Ren: Why do both of them have all those empty shulkers?
Cleo: Wait, wait, did we just give Grian and Scar unfettered access to all the diamonds in the vault?
Judge Pearl: WATCH OUT, THEY’VE HIDDEN TNT UNDER THE—
[Scar slams a switch. The world explodes. The Judge and most spectators are instantly blown up. The only survivors are your Court Scribe, who managed to get behind an obsidian pillar, and Cub, rising above the chaos on pre-equipped elytra wings with the philosophical serenity of someone who saw this coming.]
*
POSTSCRIPT
It’s a beautiful day, the sky is a clear and serene blue, and Grian and Scar have gotten away with everything.
Grian coasts joyfully ahead of Scar on outstretched wings, loaded down with boxes and boxes of ill-gotten diamonds, looping head-over-heels only when he can’t contain the energy bubbling through him. “We are the greatest, Scar. We are geniuses. We are the greatest geniuses who ever lived.”
“Oh, we are,” Scar agrees instantly. A lesser person might have pointed out their first plan failed spectacularly and their hasty second one only succeeded by luck, but this is why Grian married Scar specifically. Only he’s not married to Scar any more, is he? For one shining moment Grian had forgotten that.
The crater of the Royal Vault is far below and receding, the debris scattered like little jeweled toys. Grian is recalled to the present gleeful moment in which they are geniuses who have pulled the whole thing off and are richer than every other hermit put together. “Where are we going?”
“I was following you,” Scar says.
“I didn’t think this far ahead! I only planned up to the part where we stole everyone’s diamonds!”
“Oh, well, that’s easy,” Scar says confidently. “Change course to Honeymoon Island!”
Grian doesn’t have a good argument against that, and anyway, he’s too happy and diamond-dazzled to argue. Scar strikes out to the azure ocean and Grian dips into his wake and soars behind.
Scar has outdone himself, as usual. Honeymoon Island is just one long crescent-shaped beach with crystal seas, golden sands, palm trees, deck chairs, and—somehow—little iced coconut drinks that keep reappearing and each have a little paper umbrella. Naturally, Scar hasn’t thought of including a safe room for all their new valuables, so Grian has to dig out a makeshift bunker for all their ill-gotten gains, but when all that excitement is done, Grian throws himself onto a deckchair with a coconut drink and closes his eyes.
“So?” Scar says, in the expectant tone of someone who has spent three weeks fiddling with the palm trees that are currently casting an exquisitely-latticed shade over Grian’s eyelids, despite the fact they were technically divorcing all that time. “What do you think?”
“It is very pretty,” Grian admits grudgingly. “We can’t use it for a honeymoon, though. We’re divorced.”
“Are we divorced?” Scar is thoughtfully making origami out of his paper umbrella. “We did ditch them all before the trial officially finished.”
“Oh, we’re absolutely divorced. Super divorced.”
“I suppose you’re right. No honeymoon for us, then?”
An idyllic silence falls over the palm-fringed beach. The sea laps at the shining sands, creating a soft music from the shells and pebbles. The leaves rustle. This coconut drink in Grian’s hand is surprisingly good.
“Scar—”
“Hey, Grian—”
There is a pause.
“Go on,” Grian says impatiently.
“No, no, I think you should ask.”
“I asked last time!” This is ridiculous. It’s a shame Grian has been enchanted by the ridiculous for years now. “We’re probably not even talking about the same—”
Scar interrupts, which is rude, but unfortunately he’s picked his most golden and unfair voice, like the sea caressing the sand, and Grian is momentarily helpless. “Will you, Grian,” Scar says, “do me the great honor of marrying me? Again?”
Grian throws a paper umbrella at him. “Scar,” he says, “I thought you’d never ask.”
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
well. today was a day.
#tw injury#we were going to have a horror movie marathon#then my mum called saying she’d smashed her oven door#so we got her a microwave#then found out she had smashed it WITH HER HEAD after falling or passing out?? don’t know what happened#and had blood all over the back of her head and clothing#refused to tell her nurse#refused to let us take her to hospital#refused to give me the phone number for her nurse#i am. extremely out of my depth#i have power of attorney but i don’t think i can force her
0 notes
Text
cl16 | are we out of the woods yet?
summary: [ charles leclerc x f!driver!reader — social media au / fic ] after you get into a rough crash, charles is faced with difficult decisions
request: can i get a female driver reader injury/crash angst with daniel, seb or charles pls love your fics!
warnings: crashes and injuries, general medical stuff, unspecified mentions of death (implied to be jules and hervé), open/unclear ending
author’s note: hihi lovely!! tysm for requesting <3 hope this is enough angst for you ;) also i have no clue how to write injuries soooooo just roll with it
5,891 likes
ynupdates y/n has been taken to the medical center following her crash in the #brazilgp. no further news has been released yet. we're all behind you, y/n! 🤞
view comments
user did anyone see if she was able to get out of the car by herself?
↪ user no, i think she had to be extracted by the medical crew 😬
user i hope she's okay...
Charles' phone is halfway out of his pocket when it starts ringing. Glancing at the screen, he swipes to accept the call when he sees that it's from your mother. He had called her a few minutes ago, when the sight of your crash had first appeared on the screens in the Ferrari paddock, but she hadn’t picked up. Her voice filters through the speakers of his phone, worry tinging her tone.
“Do you have news yet?” she asks.
“Don’t know,” Charles replies, “I’m on my way to see her now. It… might be good to book a flight — and soon.” He doesn’t want to alarm your mom but it seems inevitable and he knows that you would want her next to you.
“Okay,” she breathes shakily, “and Charles?”
“Yeah?”
“She better be okay when I get there.”
Charles winces. Of all the people in the world, he knows all too well why you can never make any promises, especially in Formula 1.
“I’ll do my best,” he says and ends the call.
There’s a marshal waiting for him in the tiny waiting area in the medical center. He’s pacing nervously and immediately strides towards Charles as soon as he sees him.
“Mr. Leclerc,” he begins, “the doctors wanted to see you before they take any further action. You have medical power of attorney for Ms. L/N in case of emergency, correct?”
Charles nods numbly. It had been a precaution at the time because you had insisted that out of everyone in the paddock, you trusted him the most. He had accepted it without thinking twice but now the weight of the responsibility settles heavily over his shoulders. He follows the marshal past empty treatment rooms until they reach one with its door thrown open.
Charles feels his lunch crawling back up his throat as he stares at your figure. You’re laid out on a stretcher and you’d almost look peaceful if not for the numerous medical apparatuses connected to you and the thin trickle of dried blood on your temple. He somehow finds his voice again.
“What happened?” he asks, almost afraid to hear the answer.
A paramedic steps forward. “Ms. L/N took quite a knock in her crash, I’m afraid,” she explains gently. “Something came loose in the cockpit and hit her head. We’re not sure if there’s any further internal injuries, but our professional opinion is that she should be moved as soon as possible to a hospital for further testing.”
Charles swallows around a lump in his throat. “Is there any particular risk with transporting her in this state?”
The paramedic shakes her head. “No more than the usual, which is relatively low compared to the risk that we run by keeping her here without knowing if there’s anything else wrong.”
Charles follows your ambulance all the way into the hospital in a haze. He barely registers the press grouped outside the entrance, pushing through them, always keeping you in his sights. He waits outside of the examination room they bring you into and follows as they wheel you around, receiving god knows how many tests.
After a while members of your team start showing up, although they keep a respectful distance from Charles. He’s glad. He knows, rationally, that you were just unlucky, but the irrational and protective side of him is screaming at him to place the blame at someone’s feet. He knows you wouldn’t appreciate him blowing up at your team, though, so he doesn’t say anything to them and keeps vigil by your side as the doctors poke and prod.
Eventually you’re carefully placed in a hospital bed and Charles is pulled aside by what seems to be the main doctor assigned to you.
“Unfortunately, it seems as if we will have to operate on Ms. L/N,” he says gently. “Someone else will go over the details with you, but long story short she’s bleeding internally and it’s imperative that we get to it as soon as possible. Of course, any operation of this size could potentially be dangerous, but I strongly recommend taking action sooner rather than later.”
Charles shakes his head, the words not yet registering in his scattered mind. “Is she going to be okay?” he mumbles, not meeting the doctor’s eyes.
He can feel the doctor’s pitying gaze on him and Charles doesn’t have it in him to tell him that he’s been here before — not this specific hospital, no, but he’s been on this side of the conversation that they’re having already, and it tears his heart up just as much as the first time. The only difference this time is that he’s the one who has to make the choice, not anyone else.
“We can’t make any guarantees,” the doctor cautions, “but it would significantly raise her chances of survival if we act now.”
Charles winces at the doctor’s words. Survival. Drive to survive, surviving to drive, the irony of the situation isn’t lost on him. He uncurls his fingers gingerly from where he had been unconsciously gripping his pants.
He wants to avoid the decisions he knows he will have to make in the next twenty-four hours. He wants to pretend that nothing happened, that you’re still on the track, passing everyone in your way. He wants to go back to this morning, when he had kissed you goodbye before jogging off to get ready for the race. He wishes he had taken time to do more than peck you and throw a “love you!” over his shoulder. Charles wants to hide from the cold, stark reality he’s faced with. Your life lies in his hands and Charles is so, so tired of bleak hospital hallways.
He wants to scream at the heavens. He’s suffered and given so much already. Is one shred of happiness too much to ask? Charles had known the risks going in when he started dating you — one Formula 1 driver was usually more than enough jeopardy in a relationship, let alone two — but he’d never really thought that the day would arrive where he would have to make decisions about you, without you.
Charles stares at your face through the window to your room, tracing the curves and slopes with his eyes. It’s the face he wakes up next to almost every day and he curses himself for not cherishing the time he’s already had with you more. His brain is moving a mile a minute, running through all the possible outcomes. At the end of the day, though, he’s only got one choice.
Charles Leclerc has always been selfish and he’ll be damned if he lets another person he loves slip through his fingers.
“Where do I sign?”
likes and reblogs are appreciated!
masterlist | taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora
#solwriting#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1#f1#f1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 x you#f1 social media au#f1 imagine#f1 smau#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc smau
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
How is Atlas injury center Holiday the best example of chiropractic work?
The best data is from a stay-at-plan master's plan of chiropractor Winter Garden that gives treatment plans for diseases, back tortures, and infections. For example, he proposes keeping a stand-isolated position, using chief lifting systems, and planning them to avoid searching for wounds during treatment. Back torment is the most specific issue spreading out gifted and missed work visits to the methodology.
Our fair chiropractic spot gives the patients concentrated clinical contemplations, evaluation, and stable working circumstances. Our interesting affiliations have breathtakingly impacted the patients' fuel and sorted out a way of life decisions better. He takes as much time as key to dealing with your propensities and crushing the soul. He is excited about the adequacy of his patients' abilities.
Atlas injury center Holiday FL is gigantic, and you will feel a ton moved along. Here, bone and joint specialists thrive in diminishing the spinal design without a plan or improvement. Our Chiropractic tangible framework specialists have affirmed experts in non-drug and non-wary thought for individuals with clinical neurological issues. Winter Garden works on the specific satisfaction of individuals with extreme back pain. Exercise, food and food updates, and chiropractic care can similarly impact hardships.
We are a patient-focused and result-focused center given to furnishing the Longmont families with exceptional chiropractic care in an environment of compassion. Our Chiropractic region and charming experts can help with the best treatment from dialing down the torture to higher different injuries by using spinal changes and relaxing remedies to assist the recovery with fixing.
#align chiropractic winter garden#how to fix back pain#atlas injury prevention#auto accident attorney winter garden
0 notes
Note
neuvillette x male reader for soulmates au😞😞 enemies to lover trop to omg there both rivals but slowly fall inlove with each other😭
neuvillette x nb/male reader (soulmate au)
note: ermm ignore how long it took, i forgot to check inbox, also i didn’t go too much into enemies more like haters to lovers lol (this is a long drabble bc i couldn’t think of any main prompts, enjoy it bc it really is long oops)
ooc neuv , suggestive , also they don’t really go in a order so yeah
fem dni
before finding out your soulmates (d1 haters frfr)
⋆ you and neuvillette seemed to argue over every little thing. if you breathed in his direction he’d mumble something under his breath, causing an argument.
⋆ everyone thought you both were dating, every single time you both even come close to each other theres some awkward sexual tension
⋆ he criticized every little thing you did, if said something a little wrong, he’d make fun of you, always having to run his mouth
⋆ now you personally didn’t really believe in soulmates because of how hard it is to find yours, to find your soulmate you have to actually touch them; not a touch as in accidentally graze but like an intimate type, a hug, etc.
⋆ if you are a attorney, you always would always drag on the case longer than it needs to be just to argue a little longer (you also did it to spend more time with him but, i won’t tell anyone your secret)
⋆ neuvillette and you had some weird type of rivalry, you guys knew each other for a while, every single time you felt as neuvillette liked someone you ended up taking them from him and he did the same to you.
⋆ at the same time, he didn’t honestly know how to feel about you, your personality was so different from his. he tried his best to stay away from you but, clearly it didn’t work.
⋆ his hatred for you was also contributed because of your friends, the people you hang around, the not so liked people in fontaine.
⋆ he felt as you were a competition for him at the same time; you were a little too good at your job (whatever you want it to be), now it may not necessarily be at his level but you were too good for his liking.
⋆ his emotions and feelings are all over the place. he couldn’t decide if he hated you, didn’t care, or was jealous.
⋆ neuvillette always looked at you, even if it was a look of hatred, love, admiration, anything. he always had some type of eye on you, he felt some time of connection with you.
⋆ if you ever got in trouble, he took the blame for it, which was odd as he wouldn’t really care if you were someone else.
⋆ fontaine was raining really bad, that day happened to be the day you got injured.
⋆ you had just got back from sumeru which isn’t the safest place, your injuries weren’t thatttt bad but, they weren’t the prettiest.
⋆ once you got a little healed and we’re allowed to leave, you saw him. he wasn’t doing anything important just looking at the melusine.
⋆ you walked up to him to annoy and tease him, most people were conflicted if you were enemies or lovers.
⋆ you weren’t expecting his reaction though, instead of arguing with you, he hugged you. you were frozen for a moment but eventually hugged him back, which is how you found out you were soulmates.
once you find out you’re soulmates ;
⋆ he always has some part of him touching you, even if it’s his pinkie, he needs the comfort of you.
⋆ soulmates share a mark with each other, you both have (design of your choice idk), every single time you get intimate with him, he always kisses and loves on it.
⋆ he loves praising you, if you win a court case or do something really good in your job, expect a night full of praise.
⋆ you both didn’t announce your relationship with anyone though, you both give sly comments every chance you get.
⋆ neuvillette loves you though, your the only person who gets him to act the way he does.
⋆ he’s always had a soft spot for you, before you were soulmates and when you were hating on each other every chance you both had.
⋆ once you both got into a huge argument, it was raining hard, you felt bad because he’s your bf/hubby
⋆ when you walked into his office and saw him crying you didn’t know what to do. he never got better with his emotions and expressing them with you.
⋆ “baby, i’m sorry, you were right i was wrong, okay?” you said to him while walking up to his desk. all he did was look at you and wipe his tears, not giving you a response.
⋆ he truly was the prettiest crier you’ve ever met, it was kind of a turn on, but keep your mind out the gutters your bf is cryin!
⋆ you both cuddle a lot, after you argue. he never liked having serious arguments with you though, it brought him some type of sadness.
⋆ just overall, he’s an lovin boyfriend (and hopefully husband), he’s the best soulmate you could’ve ever asked for!
⋆ ps; he still doesn’t like your friends (lyney)
#male reader#gay#mxm#request#oneshot#midshot#genshin impact x male reader#neuvillette#neuvillette x male reader#bottom male reader#top male reader#idk#nonbinary reader#neuvillette x reader#drabble#longer drabble
500 notes
·
View notes
Text
Back Injury at Work, Who Can Help?
Did you suffer a back injury at work and aren’t sure what to do next? Do you know the basics but don’t want to make a mistake? That’s perfectly understandable. Really, there’s no experience like injuring your back on the job. Whether it’s something that happens in a moment or something that built up over time, nothing can truly prepare you for it. Over the years, we’ve helped so many who injured their backs at work and can now do the same for you, too.
Visit: https://tinyurl.com/yux5uvnz
0 notes
Text
Smoke Eater - Part 16
Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader
Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.
That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.
🔥 Series Masterlist
Song Inspo: “Run to You” by the Pentatonix
Word Count: 6,200
Tags/Warnings: Physical altercation, perilous situations, fire hazards, injuries, angst, Nick and Azazel being evil psychos.
Part 16: “Break Down the Gates”
The holiday couldn’t last forever. Eventually, you had to go back to work.
Dean didn’t like it, and neither did you. Hell, even Sam had tried to find an opening in the district attorney’s office for you. Unfortunately, all of the positions you were remotely qualified for were filled.
And as your bills had to get paid, it meant you had to take Betsy all the way up to the 22nd floor of the Savage & Co. building on a Monday morning.
Dean was already calling you.
You couldn’t answer until you got off the elevator and away from its shitty reception, but you let out a sigh before you called him back.
“Hey,” you greeted.
“Hey, sweetheart. How you doin’?” Dean asked.
“I’m good. I just got to my office,” you replied. I was also fine 20 minutes ago on the road.
You had to be patient though. You knew he was worried about you, now for more than one good reason.
“Good. Got your taser all charged up?”
“Yep, it’s in my purse,” you said. You closed the door to your office and locked it. “Which is going in my desk. You’re at the station?”
“Yeah, having my coffee right now.”
“Okay, tell the guys I said hi.”
“Will do,” said Dean. “You need anything, just call me. If you can’t get ahold of me, call Cas, or Sam, or even my dad.”
“I promise I will,” you replied. “I have to get to work here, but I hope you have a good day. And be safe.”
“That I will,” he promised in turn. “You too, baby.”
You smiled.
Once you hung up with Dean and got settled at your desk, you started by powering through your work emails. All too soon, however, there was a knock at your door. You fought against the tremor of unease that ran up your spine.
“Who is it?” you asked.
“It’s Marv,” replied your coworker, through the door. “Since when do you lock yourself in your office?”
You let out a breath and smiled. You got up and went to let him in. “I’ve found that people are less likely to interrupt me when they can’t get in.”
When the door opened, Marv gave you a look of begrudging acceptance.
“I hear ya,” he said. The man was a hermit himself, so if anyone was going to understand your self-barricading, it was Marv.
He handed you a hard-copy manilla envelope containing his monthly report, because he also had a disdain for email.
“Why don’t you give this to Nick yourself?” you asked with a frown.
Marv held up placating hands. “Because he’s an ass, and I can only deal with so much idiocy in my life.”
“Then give it to Josh! He’s the new Senior Manager,” you pointed out.
“Josh kisses Nick’s ass. Therefore, he’s become an even bigger idiot,” Marv replied. “I’m telling you, my constitution just can’t bear it.”
You rolled your eyes and took the folder from him. “All right, get outta here. I’ll deal with this.”
“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head. He soon left to return to his hole of an office. You’d only been in there once. It had been stacked to high heaven with books and loose papers. You didn’t know how the man functioned, but you assumed it was equal parts caffeine and Prozac.
So you took the report, and you went up to the 30th floor for the first time in months.
You went down the hall to Josh’s office first, but you could hear from the other side of the closed door that he was locked in a meeting with one of the more difficult clients.
You could come back later, or just drop the folder off with Nick’s assistant.
You went back down the hall and found that Nick’s office door was cracked open, but you weren’t about to go in, even just to deliver a simple report. You didn’t want to speak to him, let alone enter his office.
His assistant was out on a break, it seemed, so you couldn’t just give it to her. You contemplated leaving it on her desk with a note. But that’s when you heard the voices coming from within the office.
“As you know, my father’s back in town,” you heard Nick say. You inched closer to the door and cautiously peeked through the three inches of space in the doorway. There was another man inside, slightly taller than Nick, but leaner. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a plaid shirt. His long arms were crossed as he listened.
You could tell by the way he stood, however, that this wasn’t an associate from one of their accounts. He didn’t look like a businessman or a lawyer. The way he stood was sharper, more calculated even in his laxness.
Your brain caught up with the conversation as Nick continued to speak.
“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”
“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.
Your gaze widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!
“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.
You blinked in shock. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.
You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.
Your heart pounded while you searched for a way out of the hallway, out of plain sight. You found the nearest bathroom and went into the women’s. It seemed empty, at least.
There you rushed into one of the stalls and locked it. You realized that you had your phone in your pocket, and you took it out with trembling hands. Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name as panicked breaths escaped you.
But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.
It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.
“Winchester,” he answered.
“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”
“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”
“He’s Nick’s father,” you hissed. Trying to contain yourself and speak quietly was not easy. “I met him once at a company networking event, like a month after I got hired. Daniel Savage. He built Savage & Co. from the ground up. But he handed off the reigns to Nick years ago.”
It seemed to take John a moment to compute on that one, but he eventually replied.
“You’re at the office now?” John asked.
“Uh, yeah!” you replied testily. “I’m hiding out in a bathroom stall.”
“Okay, take it slow, all right?” he said. “You’re gonna go back to your office, calm. Like you didn’t just hear what you heard. You’re gonna take an early lunch, and you’re gonna come straight to the precinct for me. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”
You took a deep breath to steady yourself as you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.
“Okay. I need to call Dean,” you said.
“I’ll fill him in. Just focus on getting out of there,” John said.
You agreed, but you still felt shaky when you ended the call. No one had entered the bathroom, and it had been a few minutes already, so you chanced stepping out of the stall and into the hallway. That too was empty.
You sucked in another steadying breath. This time you went down the stairs to get back to your office. It felt unusually warm in the stairwell. Hot enough that you actually started to sweat on the way down to the 22nd floor.
Damn, did the AC break or something?
You made it back to your office, though when you opened the door, you were unable to be relieved. Nick sat in your chair at your desk. He gave you a smile.
“Good morning,” he said.
“You’re not supposed to be in here. Get out,” you snapped. You had no patience for another tête-à-tête with him today; especially after what you just saw.
And it hit you then. You were a witness.
You eyed Nick more warily. He had one of his gold golf clubs in his hand, and he leaned on it as he stood. He set up a putter’s stance next to your desk and hit a golf ball with a gentle swing. The ball rolled into your flat shoe.
“I want to go over that report you brought upstairs,” he said.
You shook your head and went cautiously over to your desk. Your purse was inside (you were kicking yourself for not taking it with you upstairs). Nick was too close to your desk for comfort, until he moved to retrieve his golf ball. It allowed you to move farther into the room.
“Anything you want to discuss can be done via email. Right now, I’m meeting a friend for lunch,” you lied. Your gaze was off the man for maybe a few seconds while you grabbed your purse from inside the desk. Another realization hit you in that moment.
How did he know it was me who brought the report?
By the time you looked up, Nick was shutting the door to your office. He tilted his head at you with a darker edge to his smile.
“You saw something you weren’t supposed to. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” he said.
You steeled yourself with a breath. You felt inside your purse, and your hand wrapped around your taser. You pulled it out and switched it on, pointing it towards him.
“Step away from the door or I’ll fry your ass,” you threatened. It lost its effect somewhat, with the way your hand was shaking, but it was a threat, nonetheless.
Nick raised his brows at you. He still had his golf club in hand. His movements were slow as he stepped away from the door, and closer towards you.
“Sure you know how to work that thing?” he teased with a shrug of his shoulders. “If I were you, I’d take a breath. Relax a bit. Come sit on my knee.”
That last bit was teasing, despite the way he eyed you, even now with a shade of desire. The kind that claimed and stole in its taking. It made you want to spit in his face.
“You’re a bastard,” you replied. “Turns out, the bastard apple doesn’t fall far from the bastard tree.”
“Watch it,” Nick warned. You saw the dangerous edge in his blue eyes. “That’s my dad you’re talking about.”
He swung the club at your head.
You managed to duck, yelping as it crashed into a lamp instead. You tried to run for the door, but that was when Nick grabbed you by the hair and nearly yanked the hairclip right out.
A short scream escaped your lips as you grabbed for his wrist. He shoved you hard into the wall, where you lost your footing and fell. Your head cracked against the accent table that once held the lamp, and your vision blurred on the way down. Glass crackled under your arm and bit into your cheek.
A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.
But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.
“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.
It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.
On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser. His hands fell away from you and he went down like an elephant, jolting and writhing on the ground. You gasped for breath above him while you realized what you’d just done. You tilted your head down at him.
No, you weren’t done.
You grabbed his golf club with your free hand. When he tried to reach for your ankle, you jammed the heavy club into his hand until he shouted in pain. For every moment of frustration, anxiety, and fear this man had caused you, you gave it back to him with one heavy swing of that club into his stomach. (And maybe one more for good measure.)
He doubled over, groaning, coughing a bit of blood. You tossed the golf club and grabbed your purse with a shaking hand. You left him where he laid.
As soon as you open the door, however, you were pushed back by the cloud of incoming smoke. You coughed and squinted against it, but your eyes widened again when you realized what was happening.
The building was on fire.
For some reason the alarms weren’t going off, but it was clear to see what was in front of you. Smoke was clogging the halls. People were rushing out of their offices for the stairwell. You couldn’t help glancing back at Nick; he was slowly pulling himself to his feet.
Part of you knew he might not make it if you left him, but when he looked up at you, with pure hatred, your fear overrode any mercy that might’ve made you turn around.
So you fled for the stairwell behind the small crowd. There were flames making their way down along with the smoke. That was all right, because you all were running in the opposite direction.
You had to blink a drop of blood out of your eyes, and you raised a shaky hand to a cut above your brow, which was also tender to the touch. You were bleeding, clearly, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You were just trying your best not to get pushed or trampled while you hastened down several floors.
The signs pointed to Floor 10 when you felt a buzzing in your pocket. It was your phone, you realized. You were about to fish it out of your pocket, but you were forced to stop short on the stairs, along with everyone else.
The flames were coming from the floor below as well, blocking your exit.
Once again, Dean frowned while checking his phone. You still hadn’t answered his text from an hour ago. Benny came to sit beside him on the couch in the firehouse common room.
“What’s got you spacin’ out?” Benny asked, noting his friend’s mood.
“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “But I’ve got a bad feeling, Benny.”
Benny’s brows furrowed. “Why, what’s wrong?”
Before Dean could answer, his phone rang in his hand. He perked up to answer it, until he realized it was his dad calling. He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear.
“Hey, what’s up?” Dean greeted.
“Thanks to your girl, we know who Azazel is,” John said. “Daniel Savage. Nick is his son.”
Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach; his shock was followed swiftly by worry.
“What? How’d she find that out?”
“She called me this morning. I told her to come straight to the precinct, but she’s not here yet. That was an hour ago,” John said gravely.
Dean’s eyes widened.
And then the alarm sounded overhead. Over the intercom the dispatcher reported a working fire at a commercial building. The address was the same as your work building: Savage & Co.
“Is that you?” John asked, once the intercom message was finished.
“Yeah,” Dean said. He was already up and out of the firehouse, getting his turnout gear on with the phone pressed to his ear. His heart was hammering in his chest, but his tone was rock steady.
“If she’s still in that building, I’m gonna find her.”
Firehouses 18 and 20 had already arrived by the time Firehouse 25 got to the scene of the Savage & Co. building. The flames were sky-high, consuming from the top and the bottom. Just by looking at it, Dean thought there had to have been at least two points of origin (where the fire was started). He doubted this was an accident.
“Okay, 25,” Chief Singer said to the entire Truck 79 and Rescue Squad crew. “House 20 got here first, so Chief Sanderson’s calling the shots. He requested our help in clearing the first five floors. Their crew is already on floors 30 through 20. House 18 has the middle.”
Dean went up to Bobby and spoke just loud enough for him to hear. He filled him in on what John had just told him about Azazel, and that you were most likely somewhere in the building.
“She’s in there, Chief. I have to find her,” Dean said.
Bobby saw the desperation in the younger man’s eyes, and he sympathized. “Have you tried calling her again?”
“She’s not answering,” Dean replied. “If he found out what she knows, he could be after her. That means she could be somewhere near the top.”
“Or she’s in the middle. Or she’s already out of the building,” Bobby reasoned. He quelled Dean’s protest with a raised hand. It then fell on the younger man’s shoulder. “I understand, son. But I’ve got a protocol to follow, and so do you, Lieutenant.”
Dean’s lips pressed together. He knew his rank and his responsibility, but you were in danger. You could already be hurt, or trapped, or…
Dean rounded up Truck 79 with swift, barking orders. After donning their helmets and masks, his and Benny’s team made their way inside. The first floor was wall to wall rolling flames. The heat was nearly overwhelming, like entering the gates of hell.
There was no moving safely through the first floor, so they had to move on to the closest stairwell and try to make it up to the second. Dean held Benny back for a moment.
“I’m going up! Stick with the guys,” Dean said. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the cacophony inside the stairwell.
Benny frowned. “What’re you doin’? You heard the Chief!”
Dean shook his head. He knew he was about to defy a direct order, but he couldn’t shake the gut feeling that you were still in the building somewhere.
“I’ve gotta find her,” he said.
“You think I don’t want to find Andréa?” Benny said. “She hasn’t answered my calls either. They could be anywhere, Dean!”
Dean clasped his friend’s shoulder. “You’re making my point, man.”
And he took off up the stairs before Benny could stop him.
“Damn it, Dean!” Benny shouted after him.
“Where’s he going?” Jack asked. He and Gordon were the only ones to hang back while the rest of their crew followed their orders and searched the second floor, not realizing that their Lieutenant was no longer with them.
“To go be an idiot,” Benny growled. But he wasted no more time. He followed Dean up the stairwell.
Gordon shared a quick look with Jack before he started his own climb up the stairs.
“You can follow protocol, or you can back up the Lieutenant,” Gordon called down.
In that moment, Jack made a decision. He followed Gordon and Benny.
You had to follow the rest of the crowd after you all couldn’t make it down the rest of the stairs safely. It landed you somewhere on the 10th floor, where the group scattered. Your head was aching, your heart pounded in your ears, and you didn’t know where to go.
You fled for the stairwell on the other side of the building, and in turning a corner, you smacked right into Andréa. You gasped when you caught hold of each other.
“Oh my God!” she cried, and she grabbed you into a hug. “Are you okay? Why’re you bleeding?”
“Catch up later,” you choked out. It was so hard to breathe; you were coughing every few moments.
She looked on you worriedly and let out a cough herself. “Come on.”
She pulled you along with her by the arm. You joined a smaller group that were heading for the opposite stairwell. Unfortunately, not all of you would make it there.
A piece of the weakened ceiling crumbled and fell in a fiery heap. Andréa had been just a couple steps in front of you, and it meant you saw it before she did. You pushed her forward so she would make it across. You were forced to stop short and protect your face from the embers.
You nearly tripped and fell back, but you used the wall to steady yourself. You looked up at the sound of Andréa calling your name. You found her terrified face. There was now a wall of fire separating you from her and the rest of the group.
“Keep going!” you coughed. “I’ll find another way.”
“No, I’m not leaving you!” she called back. She pushed away the man that tried to urge her on towards the stairwell.
“Go!” you shouted, even though it raked across your throat. You forced yourself to straighten up and turn away from her. The only chance you had was if there was a way around this hallway that still led to the stairs.
Oh shit, you gasped when you turned the corner. The fire was only getting worse. The building was being consumed, and you almost couldn’t see past a few feet in front of you with all the smoke. It stung in your eyes and clogged your throat.
You stumbled along until you found a room that you could escape into. It was another restroom. The fire hadn’t yet reached inside the women’s bathroom on this floor; maybe you could wait it out like you would a tornado.
Okay, clearly I’m fucking delirious, you thought. You huddled in a corner under the sink and tried and failed to take even breaths without coughing or panicking. You pulled out your phone with shaking hands and tried once again to call Dean. The reception was absolute shit in the entire building now.
It rang, and rang, and rang. Tears slipped down your cheeks.
But despite your dismayed thoughts, he actually answered.
“Hey! Baby, are you there?!”
Your mouth fell open in shock. You clutched at the phone. “Dean!”
You coughed, and you realized smoke was rising under the bathroom door now. The fire would spread here soon enough.
“Where are you? I’m here at your building!”
“Bathroom, 10th floor!” you managed to reply. “I couldn’t get out.”
“It’s okay. I’m coming right now,” he said. “Stay put for me.”
“Yeah,” you said, with a shaky breath. You couldn’t exactly leave. “Dean, don’t hang up.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “Where’s…r—oom?”
He was glitching in and out. You gripped the phone tighter in panic. “Dean?”
“Can…ear m…”
“Dean!” Your tears fell anew. You had another reason to struggle for breath as you tried to reach him.
You slid out from under the sink to try and get better reception, but it was no use. The call failed.
“Shit!” You nearly tossed your cell across the room out of sheer frustration.
The bathroom door bursting open startled a scream out of you. Was the fire coming in?
The move did allow more smoke to infiltrate the bathroom, but instead of the fire, you saw a firefighter in all his gear. This time, it did include the helmet.
“Fire Department!” he called out.
You would know that voice anywhere. And even through the mask, you recognized the man’s eyes when he went to you.
“Dean,” you sobbed. It was halted only by a series of lung-wracking coughs and wheezing. He quickly took his helmet and mask off so he could fit the mask over your soot-covered face.
“It’s okay, deep breaths. I gotcha, baby, just breathe,” Dean encouraged. His arm was around your waist, holding you close while the oxygen finally allowed you to take in slower breaths and relax against him.
“Okay, let’s get out of here, huh?” he said. He put his helmet back on.
You grabbed the front of his jacket. “Don’t you need the mask?”
You were still having trouble breathing, coughing on every other word. Dean shook his head.
“You need it more right now,” he said.
You realized that Benny was holding the bathroom door open.
“We gotta go!” he said.
“Benny, Andréa was here,” you said. His eyes widened behind his mask. “She got out, I think. She made it to the west stairwell.”
“Okay, yeah, because no one’s getting out the east wing,” Gordon said. You noted him standing just behind Benny, with Jack in tow.
“There’s a block,” you said, pointing just ahead where you saw the pile of debris. More parts of the ceiling had crumbled around it, making it a fiery minefield. There was no other way around it at this point—only through it.
Gordon and Jack went through first, followed by Benny. With their jackets and protective gear, they were able to jump through like a flaming hoop. And they would be able to help catch you and Dean from the other side.
“Okay, you ready?” Dean asked.
“If I say no?” you said, holding onto him tighter. His hand soothed over your hair. You’d lost your clip a long time ago (along with your purse), so your hair was probably wild and frizzy and covered in soot, along with the rest of you.
Dean grinned down at you. “Then I’d say, don’t you worry. I’m not gonna let you fall.”
Even now, through your fear, he could make you smile. You steeled yourself and took a breath. You could hear it so clearly with the mask on. That, and your own heartbeat.
He counted down to three, and on the last beat, Dean covered your head and shoulders and ran with you under the flame-covered ceiling. He managed to help you jump over the fiery debris on the ground. On both of your heavy landings, a wooden support beam fell.
There was a shout from Benny, but it was too late. All Dean could do was cover you. The beam broke over his back and knocked his helmet clean off. He took you with him when he fell.
Your scream rang out—half at the fall, but mostly for Dean. It was Benny who dragged you and Dean out first. Gordon and Jack took over hefting an unconscious Dean, while Benny hauled you up onto your feet and led you to the west stairwell.
You passed out just as you felt fresh air hit the mask.
You woke to bright, fluorescent lighting that made you wince. An oxygen mask covered your mouth and nose and was strapped around your head. You made a sound of discomfort and tried to take it off, but a hand stilled yours.
“Don’t.”
Eileen’s concerned face came into view. You were confused, though happy to see her.
“You’re in the hospital,” she said. When you tried to speak, she held up a finger to you. Wait, said her eyes.
She took out her phone from her jean pocket to text someone.
“Sam is coming,” she told you, before she drew closer to sooth a hand up and down your arm. You felt tears in your eyes at just that small comfort.
They fell in earnest when Sam entered your hospital room. His eyes held the concern of a friend and a brother as he approached on your other side.
“Hey, how do you feel?” he asked, laying a hand on your shoulder.
You wheezed a breath and rasped, “Water.”
Sam nodded and grabbed you a plastic cup filled with cold water. It felt like literal heaven once the mask was off and you were able to drink. He helped you while Eileen held the mask away from your face.
After you’d had all you could drink, he took the cup and Eileen placed the mask back over your face.
“Where’s Dean?” you asked, after clearing your throat. You still sounded like a chain smoker, and your head was pounding. “Is he okay?”
“He’s stable,” Sam said, with a sigh. But when he didn’t offer anything more, you raised expectant brows at him.
“What else?” you said. Your tone told him not to skimp on any more details.
Sam’s gaze met yours. “The beam burned through his jacket, on his back. It hit his head. They…had to perform a minor surgery to relieve the pressure in his brain, but he’s stable in recovery now.”
He was quick to add on that last bit when you began to crumble. Eileen encouraged you to breathe through your tears. The oxygen could only do half the battle if you didn’t breathe properly.
“I want to see him,” you said.
Sam frowned and held up a placating hand. “I don’t think that’s—”
You ignored him and tried to sit up. With or without his approval, you were getting out of this bed.
“Okay, you’re not listening,” Sam sighed, though he immediately went to help you. He shot Eileen an imploring look over your head.
She got the hint and helped you on her side. Together they helped you stand while you removed the mask, then the heart monitor and other wires taped to your torso.
The Emergency Department team had left your pants on, thank goodness, but they’d clipped through your blouse and bra. So the paper gown was mostly to cover your top half like a light blue poncho. It was a bit airy in the back, but Eileen held it closed for you. Right now, you didn’t care much about your modesty. You were also walking around the hospital barefooted.
At least Dean was on the same floor. It was just a long walk down the hall.
“Can you call Benny and ask how Andréa’s doing?” you asked, coughing a bit.
Sam eyed you in thinly veiled concern, but he agreed. The last he’d heard from Benny was that Andréa had been cleared by the paramedics with minor smoke inhalation. You were clearly worse.
Sam held you upright when you finally saw Dean. He had to guide you into a chair beside Dean’s bed, where he slept on his side. On his back was a large stretch of white gauze across his upper back, from nearly shoulder to side at an angle.
“The doctor said they’re only second-degree burns. It looks worse than it is,” Sam said quietly.
Eileen rubbed your back in the hopes that you’d stop crying.
You could only focus on the gauze, the smaller nicks and burns around Dean’s face, the bandage and thick gauze near his temple where they’d apparently had to drill into his skull. He also wore an oxygen mask, because if all that wasn’t enough, you were sure “smoke inhalation” was on the list, thanks to the way he’d given you his SCBA mask.
Gently, very gently, you took his hand. Your thumb swept over the back of it, over each knuckle.
“Did they say when he’d wake up?” you asked. You rubbed at your aching stomach. Does smoke inhalation cause nausea too?
Your chest was also tight. You’d head back to your room sooner or later and get the oxygen mask back on.
Before Sam could reply, you heard a groan below. You looked down at Dean with wide-eyed hope. It took a moment, but his eyes slid open. They were unfocused and dark, until they found your face.
You smiled tearfully. “Hey, baby.”
Your free hand caressed his cheek. His eyes briefly closed at your touch. When he realized you were holding his hand, he squeezed a bit. That was enough for you.
Just then, however, you had to let go of his hand. Whatever was left in your stomach from this morning seemed to be revolting. You turned your head quick to throw up onto the hospital floor.
Both Sam and Eileen called your name when you slid out of your chair and onto the floor. You blinked tears out of your eyes…or actually, it was black spots encroaching on your vision.
Sam pushed the chair out of his way to get to you. He gathered you into his arms and shouted for a doctor while Eileen went for the emergency button on Dean’s hospital bed.
The last thing you saw was Dean’s worried face out of the corner of your eye, before the blackness took you.
Dean could barely speak behind his oxygen mask, but Sam saw his worry as the nurses carried you away in a stretcher with Eileen following close behind. Sam crouched in front of his brother and clasped his hand.
“She’ll be okay, I promise. I’m gonna look out for both of you,” Sam said. “Right now, you need to sleep.”
Dean’s brows furrowed. In that small gesture, Sam also saw his stubbornness. He almost smiled. You and Dean were a match made.
“Just rest, Dean. I’m going now to check on her, but not until you close your eyes,” Sam said. It took another stubborn minute, but Dean eventually relaxed as well as he was able. His eyes closed as he fell back under the pull of medication and painkillers.
“How’s he doing?” came the voice of their father in the doorway. Sam’s expression morphed from gentle to austere. His head turned towards his father.
“How does he look like he’s doing?” Sam asked. “He had a burning ceiling fall on him. He has the mother of all concussions, and he just saw his girlfriend collapse.”
John was quiet, in contrast to his youngest son’s ire. He stepped into the room and watched his eldest. Sam saw the man’s age in the lines around his eyes, in his slow gait when he raised a gentle hand to comb through Dean’s greasy hair, mindful of his injuries.
“This shouldn’t have fucking happened,” said John. His voice was tired and gruff. Sam knew what the weight of guilt looked like, but what he didn’t yet see was regret. If John hadn’t kept digging, digging, Azazel wouldn’t have taken it this far.
Okay, Sam didn’t yet have proof that Azazel burned down the Savage & Co. building…but he didn’t believe in coincidences.
“No,” Sam said. “It shouldn’t have.”
“What the fuck was that?!” Nick shouted.
He was still dusted with soot and sporting some cracked ribs from the day’s activities. He’d stumbled into his father’s house, taken a bottle of bourbon from the man’s shelf and started drinking straight from the crystal glass.
Daniel eyed him coolly from the balcony, smoking a cigar. “Whatever do you mean, son?”
Nick was furious. He stomped over, not caring how expensive liquor was splashing on him.
“Why’d you burn the whole damn building?” he demanded to know. “I could’ve died!”
“Alistair got you out, didn’t he?” Daniel pointed towards his son with the hand that held his cigar. “See, unlike you, I think ahead.”
“I’m serious,” Nick hissed. “Our company is still important—”
“My company,” Daniel interjected, “is not that building. However, the building itself was a liability.”
Nick’s brows knit together in confusion and anger. “What the hell’re you talking about?”
Daniel took a long drag of his cigar, puffing in Nick’s face. The latter coughed. As if he hadn’t had enough smoke in his lungs today.
“Don’t you see?” Daniel asked, with a sigh that also said he wondered how he could’ve produced such a moron. “It puts distance between you and ‘Azazel’ if you’re also a victim of his threats. It destroys any physical evidence of me having been there, along with any files you would’ve eventually had to turn over to the police and the FBI.”
Nick let that idea sink into his brain. He realized that it did make sense…but he deflated as something else occurred to him.
“Uh…see, that would’ve worked, but, we have a problem,” Nick scratched his head. “Someone knows who you really are.”
By the time Nick finished explaining about you, and what you’d overheard, Daniel’s sharp gaze managed to strike fear into Nick’s heart.
Yet to his surprise, the other man’s temper didn’t blow. Daniel kept it all inside as he continued to smoke. Cigars tended to pacify him better than cigarettes.
His lips twitched at a humorless smile. “Well, that is a problem.”
“But she probably died in the fire, so we’re good,” Nick shrugged.
“No, I doubt she did,” Daniel sighed. “You’re not that lucky.”
He rolled his shoulders. Then he grabbed Nick’s arm and twisted, until his was crying out and pinned to the nearest wall. Daniel threatened to put out his cigar in the soft underbelly of the arm he held.
Nick looked up at his father with wide, pleading eyes.
“Like everything else, that girl is a problem I’m going to fix,” Daniel said. “Along with the whole Winchester brood.”
AN: 🫣 Don't hate me lol. It gets better for them, I promise. But we have a few more chapters left to go and a few more twists in store!
Next Time:
The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.
Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.
Keep Reading: PART 17
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Series Tag List (Part 1):
@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb
@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91
@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19
@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420
#Break Down the Gates#Smoke Eater#Part 16#dean winchester#Firefighter!Dean Winchester#dean winchester x reader#Dean Winchester x female reader#firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader#dean winchester x you#firefighter AU#dean winchester AU#spn#supernatural#john winchester#sam winchester#eileen leahy#zepskies writes
351 notes
·
View notes
Text
Via the IWW Freelance Journalists Union:
Since April 2023, Ben Camacho has been entangled in a legal battle over the release of photographs of officers with the Los Angeles Police Department. The photographs were obtained through a Public Records Request, after Camacho filed a lawsuit and a court settlement ordered the photos be handed over.
Following the release of the photos by Stop LAPD Spying Coalition, the City of Los Angeles filed suit against Camacho and SLSC, alleging that the public release of the personnel photos could compromise “sensitive” operations. The ongoing attempt to claw back these now public records is being made in violation of the defendants’ First Amendment rights. Now, another lawsuit has been filed, apparently to shift blame in the case.
The Industrial Workers of the World Freelance Journalists Union stands in solidarity with Camacho, whose commitment to transparency in policing and government represents the core ethics of journalism: to inform the people and hold power to account. We call on Mayor Bass, City Attorney Soto and the City of Los Angeles to abide by the First Amendment by dropping these lawsuits immediately.
Until then, we stand by the motto of the IWW: An injury to one is an injury to all!
#iww#industrial workers of the world#freelance journalists union#iww fju#los angeles#california#los angeles news#california news
211 notes
·
View notes
Text
I legit think that the way that ‘Dual Destinies’ utilizes it’s nonlinear episode order is really neat and well-thought of! Like, it just gets so much more out of it. Not just, like, the whole building up the mystery of ‘ooooooh why is Apollo an Angsty Guy in a Coat’ thingy. But more of, like, when ‘the Cosmic Turnabout’ starts and you realize that you’re ‘catching up’ with the timeline and suddenly the entire case has this extra layer of Suspense around it. Like, ‘let the audience know that a Bomb is going to Explode soon’ is almost literally the textbook definition of suspense!
But then also, as the trial keeps going the player might put that whole 'bomb' thing to the side to focus on the immediate case-solving so when it suddenly comes back it is both shocking and expected at the same time!
And when the Trial starts and you see Apollo with the bandaged eye and… first and foremost it makes it totally unambiguous that we’re ‘catching up’ with the Present of case 1. Like, some non-linear AA games can make it hard to keep up with what events happen in what order - but here it is immediately visually obvious that we are almost back to the present. But also, it’s the misdirection. How the player was just left to assume that Apollo’s eyepatch is just another injury from the explosion and suddenly the game just quickly nonchalantly establishes that no, this is a separate thing. And now, we’ve got another mystery on our hands that we didn’t even consider at first!
And it also plays very well emotionally with Case 3, ‘Turnabout Academy’, and the Athena-Juniper drama. Because, like, the whole point is that Athena remembers Juniper as this soft-spoken little sweetheart from her childhood and then they meet in Lawyer High School and she’s all cold and professional. And we the players don’t get to experience Athena and Juniper’s childhood…. But we do get to see a lot of her in the flash-forwards Case 1, where she is acting like her old self again.
So while on one hand the Player knows some things about Juniper’s different behavior that Athena does not (namely, that it’s a temporary thing and they'll be back to being close friends sooner or layer) - we also feel Athena’s confusion and distress on a much more personal level. Even though we know this is a flashback case, it does kinda feel like our Ol’ Buddy Junie is suddenly being cold to us, too!
And for the Ace Attorney game that tries to be all about emotions… I think these are pretty neat!
#ace attorney#dual destinies#ace attorney dual destinies#aa5#ace attorney 5#turnabout academy#athena cykes#juniper woods
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
Several sentence sunday
tagged by @spaceprincessem @hippolotamus @underwater-ninja-13 @spotsandsocks @rainbow-nerdss @wikiangela @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley
more for you left me or secret wip
“Buck is paralyzed”. It’s the first words the Doctor, whose name Eddie also can’t remember, said to him. “He might never walk again” - the next prediction that he gave without waiting a second so that Eddie could collect the fragments of his breaking all over his body heart, fragments that were stabbing all organs, arteries and veins, causing a desire to peel off his skin. The man just kept hitting Eddie with words about how bad Buck's condition was. “It would be hard for him to even feed himself in the next, at least, several months”. Eddie remembers that all this was mixed up with explanations of the Buck's injuries, about where and how he hit his back and damaged his vertebral column, but Eddie won't say a word. He's just grateful Hen and Maddie were here. They will remind him when he stops feeling that familiar feeling of lack of air in his lungs.
He knows he is hyperventilating. He knows he has to do something to stop this attack, but he doesn't want to, he just wants this panic attack to kill him, but at this moment the most beautiful blue eyes look into his soul, reminding him that he should breathe and try to focus. It takes time, but in the end he does it, managing to catch the doctor's last words and his offer to ask him the questions he is interested in.
“Would he work again?” Eddie barely recognizes his voice, and all the eyes looking at him partly judge him for the question. But he doesn’t care. He needs to know, because Buck would need to know. Eddie should know if he would once again break the man he loves so much with the words only he should tell Buck, cause it was what he promised when Buck made him his power of attorney: “If something really bad happens to me I want to hear it from you. Not anyone else.”
Eddie promised and he is not breaking this promise.
tagging @watchyourbuck @spagheddiediaz @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @transboybuckley @pirrusstuff @anakinfallen @aspecbuddie @devirnis @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @hoodie-buck @housewifebuck @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @callmenewbie @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @mandzuking17 @monsterrae1 and anyone who wants
80 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
rowanclair
ROWAN
basic-braining
Psychonauts Sideblog
shoppinghunter128
shoppinghunter
ofinnocence
* AKENO