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tnatraining · 7 months

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Website: https://www.tnatraining.co.uk/

Address: United Kingdom

TNA Training & Safety Consultants offers a plethora of online and workplace-based training courses, emphasizing various domains like driver safety, manual handling, fire safety, health and social care, business skills, mental health and well-being, and hospitality. While the physical address is not explicitly mentioned, they facilitate a wide array of online courses, making their offerings accessible beyond their physical location. They provide essential safety training and also engage in consultancy, ensuring organizations and individuals adhere to safety norms and protocols. Their courses span across diverse areas, including health and safety, risk assessment, and various specialized training, ensuring a comprehensive safety training solution.

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tna_training_and_safety/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Tna_training

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XONoJVVY0ts

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haithamdrivertraining · 10 months

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#Book Practical Driving Assessment Kelmscott #Driver instructor training Cannington

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delusionalfanficwriter · 4 months

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accident

The morning sun cast a soft glow over the streets of Seattle as Y/N drove to her training session for USWNT. The familiar scent of coffee filled the air, but her mind was focused on the upcoming game and the challenges that lay ahead. As she approached an intersection, the traffic light turned red, forcing her to come to a stop.

Just as the light turned green, Y/N accelerated, her mind still occupied with thoughts of tactics and strategy for the game. The intersection was busy, cars moving in various directions. However, in the blink of an eye, a distracted driver ran a red light, colliding with Y/N's car from the side.

The impact sent Y/N's car spinning, metal crunching against metal. The sudden jolt left her disoriented, the world spinning around her. As the chaos unfolded, she heard the distant wail of sirens, and through the haze, she saw the familiar faces of Maya hopping out of the fire truck and the Station 19 team rushing to the scene before her eyes started to close shut.

Maya takes in the scene, her eyes fall on the license plate number she has seen dozens of times. Her mind jumps to y/n, who she knows is in Seattle for the game coming up later in the week. The y/n who she and Carina took under their wing after she showed up several times to clinic days. They opened their home for her until she was steady enough to be on her own and when she isn’t with USWNT she is home in the UK playing for Arsenal.

Panic and concern etched across her face, as she sprinted towards Y/N's car. Reaching the damaged vehicle, she instantly saw y/n out cold. Reaching for the door handle, it wouldn’t budge. “Fuck! Guys it’s y/n. We need the jaws of life to remove the door and maybe even windshield for more access.” Travis went to grab it as Warren and Andy came with the med bag as they were on Aid car 19. “Y/n, I’m not sure if you can hear me but I need you to try to open your eyes. It’s Maya. You are going to be okay.”

Maya makes the decision to break the backseat window and enter through there before crawling front to the passenger seat. Andy did the same but remained behind y/n as she helped stabilize her neck with a c-collar after Maya checked for a pulse.

With all the hands touching her, y/n started to stir awake, moaning in pain. “Shhh. Y/n, it’s going to be okay, just try to remain still for us.”

Hearing the familiar voice, y/n turned her head as much as possible with the collar on to the source. “Cap…” She whispered.

“Hey there, kiddo. You took quite a big hit. Andy and I are in the car with you. Can you tell me if you are in pain and where?” Maya scans over y/n as y/n thinks the question through.

“Um. My head is pounding and the light makes it worse. Chest might be bruised… Maya…” y/n’s facial expression changes into a panicked one.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?... Y/n talk to me…”

“...legs… I- I can’t feel my legs. Maya- no no…” Y/n begins to spiral as realization hits her.

“Y/n, I need you to listen to me and breathe. We will figure it out but don’t focus on that right now. I need you to get your breathing under control.”

Warren assisted Travis in preparing the jaws of life while Maya focused on Y/N's immediate needs. Andy opened the med bag, retrieving equipment to monitor vital signs.

"Y/N, I need you to stay with me. Andy's going to monitor your vital signs, and we'll make sure you're as comfortable as possible," Maya explained, her voice a steady presence in the chaos. “Nice deep breaths.”

Andy secured an IV line, administering fluids to address potential shock. Maya continued to assess Y/N's chest and abdomen, searching for any signs of internal injuries.

"Good job, Andy. Let's keep an eye on those vitals. Y/N, I need you to let me know if anything feels off or if the pain increases," Maya directed, her focus unwavering. “Y/n pay attention to me. Eyes on me. We will worry about your legs when we pull you out.”

“Cap, my legs are everything. You know that.”

“I know, Y/n, I promise I know.” Maya is reminded of how soccer saved Y/N life and helped lift her from her rough past.

As Maya reassured Y/N, the situation took a dire turn. A faint hissing sound emerged from beneath the wreckage, followed by the acrid smell of gas. Maya's heart sank as she realized the danger they were in.

"Warren, Travis, we've got a gas leak! We need to get Y/N out of here, now!" Maya's voice cut through the chaos, urgency evident in every word. With adrenaline coursing through their veins, the team intensified their efforts.

Travis and Warren redoubled their efforts with the jaws of life, while Andy swiftly prepared Y/N for extraction, mindful of the looming threat of fire. Maya coordinated the rescue operation with precision, her training kicking in as she assessed the risks and devised a plan.

Suddenly, a spark ignited the volatile atmosphere, and flames erupted, engulfing the front of the car. Time seemed to slow as panic surged through the team. Without hesitation, Maya made a split-second decision.

"Grab Y/N, we're getting her out, now!" Maya commanded, her voice unwavering despite the inferno raging around them. With synchronized movements, Andy and Maya carefully lifted Y/N, their actions swift yet deliberate.

“Stop it-it hurts! Maya, stop!” Y/n screamed and cried as her body was hastily carried out of the vehicle.

“I’m sorry, Y/n but we need to leave now!” Maya screamed over the chaos. As they lifted y/n out and placed her on the stretcher, they ran as Vic and Jack foamed over the gas leak.

“Leah… I was on a call with Leah before.” Y/n suddenly remembered having her girlfriend on the other end of the line before the crash.

“Don’t worry, I will call her, right now.” Maya climbed into the back of the ambulance, her eyes never leaving Y/N. "You're doing great, Y/N. We're right here with you," she said, her voice filled with reassurance.

Andy followed suit, bringing the medical bag and equipment into the confined space of the ambulance. Y/N's eyes darted between Maya and Andy, seeking comfort in their familiar faces amidst the uncertainty.

“Speaking of the devil, Leah is facetiming me.” Maya says unlocking her phone but as the ambulance doors closed, Y/N's panic resurfaces. The confined space and the realization of the severity of the situation weighed heavily on her. "Maya, I can't... I can't breathe. It's too much," Y/N gasped, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Maya quickly grabbed an oxygen mask from the medical bag. "Y/N, slow your breathing. This will help," she said, placing the mask gently over Y/N's face. "Deep breaths. In and out."

“What’s happening? Maya what happened to Y/n?!” Leah yelled through the phone panicked by Y/n’s panic.

“Y/n look who I have on the phone, wanting to see you.” Maya tries to distract the woman in front of her. Y/n pauses for a second to see her blurred girlfriend on the screen.

“Baby, you’re going to be okay, Maya is with you and I am sure Carina will meet you in the hospital. I’ll be on the next plane over.” Leah reassured y/n.

“Leahhh,” Y/n cried. “I can’t - can’t feel my legs. I’m so scared.” Leah pauses and a panic look crosses over her eye but she tries to remain as calm as possible.

“Wait until the doctor’s check you out, it could just be from slight inflammation. Just focus on what Maya says. She is with you and looks like Andy is there too. You are gonna be fine, baby just remain calm.”

“Leah, we are pulling into the ambulance bay in a minute so I am going to hang up and get her sorted for the medical staff. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” Maya tells Leah knowing how protective she is of her girlfriend. With that Leah gives another word of love to Y/n before canceling the call.

“I texted Carina as well, I am not sure if she’s in surgery or not but she’ll come to find us once she sees it.” Maya informs y/n knowing she is able to calm down more when Carina is around. “We are almost there, but it’s going to get chaotic. Just breathe, it’ll be alright.”

The ambulance pulls up and doors open to reveal Amelia, Bailey, Kepner, Teddy, and Carina.

“What do we have?” Bailey starts.

“23 year old female in a MVC, airbags deployed, head laceration, possible spinal injury, she says she can’t feel her legs. C-spine precaution taken. Y/n had two panic attacks already and is in pain but no pain meds given as unknown head trauma...” Andy trails off.

“Alright, trauma 2.”

Y/n is rolled in as everyone takes on a role and several hands are trying to assess her injuries to the full extent. Y/n takes her deep breaths as she reminds herself they are here to help her.

In the entrance of the room Maya whispers to Carina, “Carina, she said she can’t feel her legs. I tried to stay calm for her but it’s never good. She was freaking out…”

A loud groan of pain takes them out of their moment as they see they have turned y/n on her side to check her back before placing her back down. Amelia does a head work up and then moves down to y/n’s legs. Carina steps closer to y/n for support as Amelia asks her if she can feel her touching her feet.

“I can’t feel it.” Amelia moves up the leg and to the knee. “Nothing.” Amelia moves mid-thigh. “I barely feel that.”

“Okay, don’t worry, we will get a CT scan and check you out. Might just be inflammation on the spine that will go away.” Amelia reassured the girl Carina took under her wing.

“And what if it doesn’t,” Y/n asks the question she knows the answer to.

“Let’s see what the scans say and we will take it from there.” Amelia places her hand on Y/n’s hand but she pulls away.

“I’m going to be sick.” With that, y/n turns her body as much as possible and only dry heaves.

“Bambina, you are stressing yourself out. I know you are worried about playing soccer, hell even walking but one thing at a time. You can’t think of what ifs. I am here now. I will make sure things are in order. Maya and I will be there for you every step of the way. I am going to need you to practice the breathing exercises. I don’t want them to sedate you but if your panic gets in the way…”

“No, no I promise.” Y/n cuts her off and closes her eyes trying to regulate her breathing. The team talks to her about the next steps of imaging and makes her a priority case.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #uswnt fanfic #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #carina deluca #maya bishop #station 19 #greys anatomy #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #andy herrera

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engeorged · 7 months

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Please Feed the Bears

Words and concept by @fillthattank and @engeorged

Artwork by @badoobers

Having spent four years in teacher training college and 8 years working in shitty schools, Dan was done being a teacher. Like most of his colleagues, he loved the kids and teaching, but the red tape was killing him. He was still spending hours and hours every evening lesson planning, marking and setting goals. Even just engaging with parents through the new app the school had imposed took an hour a night now. He was done.

The job had taken his whole life. He didn’t have a social life any more, he didn’t have time for friends, let alone dating. He used to be hot! Six pack abs and thick biceps left over from his rugby days, but late night pizza orders and rushed meals whilst sat in his sofa marking had put an end to that. He wasn’t unfit as such, (he still cycled to work!) but he had a definite little pot belly now with a jiggle when he walked and his ass was forcing him to buy jeans two sizes too big.

He’d begun to put aside a little money each month to go travelling and it was now time to cash in. He gleefully handed in his resignation and booked his tickets. He was going to fulfil a life long dream and tour America. His money wouldn’t last long but he’d be able to get a little cash in hand job every few months and settle down for a bit and that should last him. All his mates did it when he was training and he was beginning to feel like he had missed out, so now was his chance. The morning of the flight came and he felt so free and so excited! He’d sold everything he had accumulated in his shitty flat, gotten rid of his bike and the keys to the flat. All he had in the world was shoved into his backpack. The world was his oyster.

Three months later

The bubble burst two weeks into the adventure when he was robbed on a metro in New York. All his cash and bank cards were gone. When he had phoned his insurance company, they had gone bust overnight and so there was no payout. He refused to phone his parents. He was 30, that would be so humiliating. And they wouldn’t be gracious about it, they had already told him this was a childish idea to go travelling on a whim like a teenager. They’d probably give him money to come home, where he’d end up living in their house for a few years whilst he did supply teaching jobs in horrific schools. No thank you, he’d sort this out himself. He got a job for a few months, cash in hand with no questions asked, doing deliveries for a pizza place in New York which gave him enough money to travel west and a constant supply of free pizza. Sure it was on the bus, and sure he’d put on a few more pounds but at least he’d done it himself. He arrived in what the bus driver called ‘Butt Fuck Nowhere’ ready to work.

He booked himself into a cheap and sleazy hotel. He had enough money for one night which meant he needed to find himself a job fast. After making a few enquiries he found the only real place to work for foreigners was in a massive theme park just on the edges of the town. He hiked his way there and found the employment office and made his case. In lieu of a formal interview, the guy looked him up and down and made his assessment. Dan was 6’5 and so being tall, tall, he would be the park's main mascot, Buster. Buster was a big bear and the costume was huge, with loads of room inside. The only upside was that his face wouldn’t be entirely covered by the costume. Instead there was a little hat with bear ears he would have to wear.

He would have to do a trial before he was offered the job for real, and the eventual pay would be $15 an hour, which didn't seem like a lot. Whilst Dan signed the contract, the boss called for his helper who was a short burly guy in his late twenties called Mitch, with a gravely voice that made it sound like he smoked 40 a day. Mitch’s eyes perked up when he saw Dan.

‘He’ll do!’ Said Mitch, his eyes hungrily taking in Dan’s face and height.

‘Hey!’ Said Dan, holding out his hand. Mitch shook it enthusiastically.

‘Hope you’re hungry!’ Said Mitch

‘What?’ Said Dan, a little confused but he began taking off his clothes ready to get into the costume. He was about to pull it on when Mitch stopped him and pushed him over to a pair of scales. ‘Step on’ Mitch encouraged him.

‘I’m a little husky at the moment!’ Dan replied nervously

‘That’s not a bad thing.’ Mitch replied as he took the reading from the digital scales.

‘Hang on? Why did you need that?’ Dan asked, realising that that was weird.

Instead of replying, Mitch just held out the costume. Dan slid it on, pulling his arms through the holes. It wasn’t as heavy as it looked and was a little baggy round his middle but it seemed to fit ok.

‘Why did you need my weight?’ He tried again as he did the zip up, but he was bundled out of the office and into the park without an answer

It was early, but already, Dan could see people walking around. He wasn't entirely sure if they were fellow employees or visitors. They weren't wearing any uniform, but they looked like adult men. Way more adult men than he'd expect at a theme park.

Years of teaching had killed most inhibitions and fear of embarrassment within Dan, so he jumped up and down, danced a bit, acted like he thought a man in a bear-suit was expected to act.

"Hey, it's Buster Bear!" he heard someone say.

Dan turned round, and waved. It was a group of guys, six he counted, looking around 30. A big variety of heights and builds, though they all looked pretty hairy.

One of the guys came running towards him.

"C'mon guys, let's bust the bear!' he said, to the others.

When the guy arrived, Dan didn't even have time to talk. The guy shoved a hot dog right into his mouth. Dan was a bit shocked, but started chewing. It wasn't a bad hot dog.

No sooner had Dan swallowed that another guy shoved a hot dog into his mouth. Dan was even more surprised, but hey, the customer is king, and he was kinda hungry anyway, so he chewed and swallowed.

The six guys proceeded to shove a hot dog each into his mouth. He wasn’t expecting that at all but as he was on probation he didn’t want to challenge it. His minder stood to the side happily watching and not saying a word. Was this a thing here? It didn’t take long but he ended up eating six hot dogs in a short space of time.

This first guy moved to feed a second one but Mitch stepped in. ‘You know the rules, big guy. Let someone else have a go. Move along now!’

Admitting defeat the six guys moved on laughing and patting each other on the back. When they were at a safe distance he turned to Mitch ‘What the hell was that?’

‘Did no one tell you?’ He laughed. ‘It’s just a cute thing we have here. When you see Buster bear you have to feed him something. It’s just for fun! You’ll get used to it!’

Dan was so confused. It was one thing giving the bear a small thing but he’d just eaten six whole hot dogs and he’d been on the job for 15 minutes! Also why were they grown ass men? Theme parks are for kids right? He wasn’t even sure what question to ask first. He opened his mouth to ask something and found a churro in it. Two young bearded guys had snuck up behind him. They happily began feeding him a big churro each. Dan was starting to feel pretty full already but he really needed this job. He’d have time to ask questions in a moment. So he played along. Rubbing his furry tummy and chewing he ate a churro from each of them.

As they walked away, clearly happy he heard one of them comment about how hot he was which gave him a little rush of pleasure, followed by a touch of embarrassment.

Turning to Mitch he formulated his question ‘Where are the kids?’

Mitch looked at him like he’d said something crazy inappropriate and just shook his head. ‘Dude this place is for adults only! Now look lively. Here comes another group of customers.

Totally confused, Dan turned and saw four guys coming towards him with huge bellies and carrying buckets of loaded fries. Before he could say anything, a chubby hand stuffed a fist full of fries into his mouth. They were hot and salty and covered in bacon and cheese and so good. He could ignore the full feeling with fries as tasty as this. A few fistfuls in, and the dudes started fighting over who got to feed him the next lot.

‘Bro wait your turn?’ The lead guy said in a thick southern accent.

‘This is my turn dick face?’ Replied a guy who looked like he could be his brother, shoving him out of the way with his fat ass.

Dan found himself amidst four angry fat guys who’d clearly had a few too many beers and his teaching skills suddenly kicked in.

‘Boys, there’s plenty of room in my tank, now just keep the fries coming!’

It calmed the situation a bit but still was a little tense. A few of the guys were squaring up to each other and getting riled up. Guided by Dan the fries were soon put away turn by turn into his filling tank. Pacified and pleased with themselves the men staggered away punching one another on the arms as they went.

The four buckets of fries on top of the hotdogs and churros suddenly weighed heavy on Dan's stomach. He belched loudly and gave his belly a rub. ‘How come you didn’t intervene man?’ He asked Mitch

‘You seemed to be handling those dumb asses pretty well yourself?’ Mitch laughed back

‘I thought it was one thing per person? You said that was the rule?’

‘Yeah but they had the golden buckets. They paid extra. They can feed you the whole lot if they want!’ Mitch explained. ‘Let’s keep going, bud!’

Dan uncomfortably followed on behind Mitch, feeling the heavy food settling as his stomach set about the task of digesting. Over the next hour or so they encountered several more guys, all keen to feed something to Buster. Dan played the part, eating up the burgers, candy apples and handfuls of popcorn. All the food they seemed to serve at this place was full-on junk food. It didn’t hurt that it all tasted so good. The pace was fast but not too bad. He felt like he was keeping up. He’d always had a big appetite and would often find himself eating his feelings when he was back in school. And he needed this job. He couldn’t bring himself to contact his parents. There were just two more hours of the trial left, he could do this. He was beginning to notice that the costume was feeling a little claustrophobic. It felt super roomy when he put it on but he was feeling the material clinging to his skin a bit now. It was super hot inside too. He could really do with something to drink. He would look for some dudes with beers or something if that was allowed.

The next encounter he had was two good looking college bros with backwards caps and muscle tees. Unfortunately they didn’t have beers but they fed Dan a funnel cake each. He’d never seen one of these before but the sweet dough tasted amazing. Afterwards though he began to feel a little uncomfortably full. The last few bites were a little hard work. He could feel grease and the pressure of food in his packed stomach reaching a slightly more painful place. When they had gone he asked Mitch if he could take a ten minute break. Mitch reluctantly agreed but said he couldn’t take the suit off. He took him behind one of the rides where they found a little bench. Dan eased himself down and instantly regretted sitting. The pressure reached a peak which made him wince and stand back up. Tentatively, he sat back down and leant back on his arms. Under the suit, he arched his back to give his belly space to expand. Mitch grinned. ‘Ready to give up yet?’

‘No man, I’m good’ Dan lied.

‘There’s pockets!’ Mitch offered smiling still

‘What?’ Dan was feeling a little light headed with how full he was feeling and he didn’t really know what Mitch was talking about.

Mitch leant over and pulled a small zip down on the side by Dan's hip. ‘If you need to give your belly a rub, there’s a small pocket. Trust me on this. You need all the help you can get before the lunch rush!’

The prospect of a lunch rush was something Dan would need to deal with in a few minutes but for now he eased his hand into the side of his costume and felt the warm flesh of his distended furry belly. He couldn’t trust himself to think back over how much food was in him, it would just make him queasy. For now he just closed his eyes and gave his tight belly a good rub.

‘Come on buster!’ Mitch said after a too short amount of time. ‘You need to be back on the tarmac!’

Begrudgingly Dan stood, admittedly feeling a little better after the rub. He could almost feel the food redistributing itself as he moved.

‘Hang on, What did you mean lunch rush?’ He asked his guide as they walked.

Mitch just smiled. ‘Happy hour!’ He repeated cryptically.

Leading the way, Mitch took Dan back into the park where they made their way to an area set up next to a steep roller coaster. A little food hut decorated to look like a large picnic basket was serving food to a long queue of guys, all who started cheering as they saw Buster Bear approaching. This made Dan's stomach lurch a little. That was a lot of guys buying food. ‘Should we keep moving?’ He asked Mitch nervously.

‘Why would we do that? This is your chance to prove you deserve the job.’ He pointed at a large wooden throne just next to the clearing. ‘Take a seat’

Reluctantly Dan shuffled towards the chair and sat down. It was surprisingly comfy and the position of the seat meant that he was nearly stood up which put no extra pressure on his already packed belly. He gulped as he realised that the design was probably on purpose.

One by one the men left the queue and joined a new one in front of Dan. They all had their fast food clutched in their hands ready to feed Buster. Mitch leant in and whispered into Dan's ear. ‘If you can survive this, the job's yours. And did you read the small print?’

Dan shook his head nervously. ‘No?’ He admitted, looking to find a way out of this. There was no way this was worth $15 an hour.

‘At the end of the day we weigh you and you get $50 per pound you put on. You get a bonus for the more food you eat!’

That changed things for Dan. He really needed that cash. He’d nearly used up the last of his money staying at the motel in town and without this job, he’d not have enough for the next few days. A few hundred dollars could really come in handy right now. He could eat a lot? What’s 10 lbs of food look like? That’s $500 dollars. Surely that could be doable? He set his jaw and nodded to Mitch ‘let’s go’

The stream of food that followed was unreal. Each guy shoved one thing into Dan's open mouth and he chewed and swallowed like his life depended on it. Corn dogs, tacos, hamburgers, onion rings and fries all disappeared down under the fur of the costume into his hidden but rapidly expanding belly. He didn’t allow himself time to consider how much food there was or how he was going to feel afterwards, he just kept the thought of the dollars ringing in his ears. Ice cream and donuts, beers and sodas all sucked down into his filling tank. The guys queuing were loving it and Dan was fully playing the part of a greedy bear. Growling and snarling as their sweaty palms pushed the calorific food into his mouth. Mitch’s face slowly turned from a smiling sneer, laughing at Dan's fate, to one of admiration. He’d been with a lot of Busters and Dan was eating like one of the best. He’d spent many an afternoon with a sorry dude in a bear costume throwing up into a bin after a shift but this guy seemed to be an absolute eating unit. Towards the end of the happy hour though he started being a little worried. This guy had eaten a lot. Like, too much. Even with the bear costume on he could see that his gut was beginning to push against the fabric.

As Dan was being fed a large chicken tender the bell went to signal the end of happy hour. Dan looked a little confused as he snapped out of his feeding frenzy. The rest of the guys in the queue all shared a collective groan as Mitch told them that the bear needed to head back to his cave for his nap whilst Dan looked on, totally dazed. As Mitch shooed away the queue, the volume of food inside Dan’s belly suddenly made itself very known. He felt the skin over his belly stretched and tight and the pressure that had built up inside him became very apparent. He had never in his whole life felt as full as he did right now. In the distance he heard Mitch talking to him. He wasn’t sure what he was saying but he nodded and allowed Mitch to help him to his feet. The new weight in front of him made him stagger a little at first as he felt the food lurch inside his belly balloon. A large belch escaped and he found himself laughing. Mitch led him through the park round the back, fortunately not encountering any more punters eager to offload some more food into his aching gut.

Coming round a little bit he found himself back in the offices, just him and Mitch, who was looking at him in a concerned way. ‘I said are you ok bud?’

Dan belched again in response. ‘I think I’m ok? I ate a lot.’

‘Yeah. You did.’ Mitch nodded in agreement. ‘You wanna take off the costume?’

Dan nodded. He went to undo the zip but found the fabric was restricting his movement. Mitch fished around under his neck and pulled the zip down to the bottom of his ribs. The rush of cool air was like heaven as he peeled his arms out of the costume. He went to pull the zipper down but his bloated midsection was now an obstacle. Pulling it out, he managed to get the zip to slide down to the underneath of his belly which pushed itself through. Dan looked up into the mirror on the wall opposite. Shocked, he saw the full extent of his four hours of being stuffed by random strangers. His belly was enormous. The furry skin stretched tight over the mass of food contained inside. Round and expansive, his belly looked like it had been photoshopped. His gut had completely filled the baggy costume.

‘Holy fucking Mac and cheese balls’ Mitch exclaimed reaching over to give his belly a poke. Even his heavy handed push hardly made a dent in it.

‘It feels like I’ve swallowed quick drying cement!’ Dan complained. ‘Help me out of this fucking thing!’

Mitch pulled the costume down round his ankles, headbutting his engorged stomach by accident. ‘Shit man, sorry!’ He said rubbing his head

Standing there in just his pants Dan couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He was enormous. His furry belly and body made him look like he was still wearing the fat bear costume.

Mitch nodded at the scales. ‘Wanna see how much we owe you?’ He asked

‘I’m gonna bankrupt you!’ Dan managed to joke as he stepped on.

Mitch whistled, clearly impressed. ‘Fuck me man. You’ve done well there today! I’d have to check but I’m pretty sure that’s a company record!’

‘Tell me man!’ Dan pleaded.

"We owe you $850 man! You’ve eaten 17 lbs of food!!’

Dan nearly passed out with shock. Taking another look in the mirror his distended belly looked like he was pregnant. Sticking out from under his ribs it rolled down in a wide curve till it tapered in where the ghost of his Adonis belt framed the underside.. All he wanted to do right now was sleep this off

‘You’ve definitely got the job!’ Mitch reassured him. ‘See you again tomorrow?’

————————————————————

If you want to continue Dans story yourself you can head here where you will find a chat bot programmed to be Dan at the end of this story!

#belly expansion #gainer fiction #gay gainer #stuffing #belly fiction #gainer stories #male gaining #stuffing art #gainer story #gainer artwork #big bear

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cameronspecial · 4 months

Text

You Saved My Life

Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: Getting Hit By A Car

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.4K

Summary: After getting hit by a car, Zach only has one thing to say to Y/N.

Masterlist

Y/N has told her boyfriend multiple times to wear a helmet whenever he rides that stupid bicycle. She has heard so many horror stories about accidents, but her pleas are always met with a reminder that he knows how to ride a bike. Watching him slam into the car and flip over onto his back is the scariest moment of her life. She runs to his side and her first-aid training kicks in. She doesn’t find a pulse when she checks for one, so she immediately gets to work on chest compression. She orders the driver of the car to call 911. As the seconds tick by with no pulse, she panics more and more. Finally, he lets out gasps with a jerk forward and she takes him into her arms. “I thought I lost you,” she cries, kissing his cheeks. The sound of the ambulance approaches and before she knows it, a paramedic is pulling her away so that they can assess Zach.

———

Connie and Matt were very grateful that Y/N was there with Zach during his accident. They, of course, invited her over for dinner not only because she is his girlfriend, but as a thank you as well. Y/N and Zach wait for dinner to be made on the couch. Instead of helping with the food like she normally would, she is making sure Zach is okay. Their relationship is new-ish. It is about three months old. He leans against the back of the couch, staring up at her with big eyes. She returns his gaze with a confused look. Something feels different about the way that she is looking at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she questions him. He shrugs, leaning in for a kiss, “I didn’t thank you for basically saving my life.” She giggles and meets his lips. When they pull away, he still has that goofy look on his face and she grows concerned because of his concussion.

“Are you okay? Why are you looking at me like that?” He scoots closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “You saved my life. And it made me realize that I never said I love you,” he whispers so his family can’t hear. She moves her face closer to his, “You don’t have to say it just because I saved your life.”

“It’s not because of that. I was just too scared of saying it before. However, I think I’d much rather get rejected by you than die knowing I never said this. I love Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.”

“Well, I love you too, Zachary Adam MacLaren.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama

#the other zoey #zach maclaren #zach maclaren x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey fic

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pitinthelanepages · 1 year

Text

against the odds

summary: after a tragic accident, ollie struggles to regain his confidence and ability to run. with the help of you, he sets out on a grueling journey of physical and emotional recovery.

pairing: ollie bearman x reader

word count: 4.2k

genre: warning! graphic description of injury, angst but good ending!

a/n: please note that the following content is entirely fictional and should be viewed as just another story for your entertainment. it is not intended to romanticize any situations or actions portrayed within. however, it is written with the understanding of the risks that drivers take in the pursuit of racing. please read with caution and do not attempt to replicate any dangerous behaviours depicted.

(feedbacks and reblogs are highly appreciated as i have worked really hard on this oneshot and want to know your opinion on this)

As a doctor at the track's medical centre, you had seen injuries and accidents, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you when Ollie Bearman was rushed in after a serious crash.

Ollie is a talented Formula 2 driver, with a promising career ahead of him. He had always been passionate about racing, ever since he was a young boy tinkering with go-karts in his backyard. He was always pushing himself to be better and was never afraid to take risks on the track.

However, this Ollie was barely conscious, face swollen and bruised, with cuts on his forehead and a split lip. His arms were badly bruised and one of them appeared to be broken. His chest and ribs were also bruised and tender to the touch, making it difficult for him to breathe properly. Your stomach plummeted with dread as you took in the extent of his injuries. You knew that you and your colleagues would have to work quickly if you were going to save his life.

After arriving at the hospital, Ollie was immediately taken into the operating room. As the doctor, you scrubbed in and joined the surgical team, ready to do whatever was necessary to save his life.

The operating room was a flurry of activity as the doctors and nurses worked to stabilise Ollie. The beeping of the monitors and the sound of medical equipment filled the air as the team worked to repair the damage.

You focused on Ollie's injuries, assessing the damage and deciding on the best course of action. His injuries were extensive, and the surgery was long and complicated. The team worked together seamlessly, each person playing their part to save Ollie's life.

Your mind raced as you worked, your training and expertise kicking in. You couldn't afford to let your emotions get in the way, but you couldn't help feeling a deep sense of concern for Ollie. He was so young, and had so much potential ahead of him.

After several hours, the surgery was complete. The team emerged from the operating room, exhausted but relieved. The surgery went successfully.

You knew that his recovery would be a long and difficult road, but you were determined to be there for him every step of the way. You would do whatever it took to help him get back to racing again, and to make sure that he never had to experience a crash like this again.

You stayed with Ollie for the rest of the night, monitoring his condition and administering medications as needed. As you watched him sleep, you couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. Ollie was a fighter, and you knew that he would make it through this.

DAY 2

The next day, you were still reeling from the previous night's events, and made your way to Ollie's hospital room. You held a bouquet of blue hydrangeas, a flower that symbolises perseverance and renewal, and hoped it would bring some comfort to the unconscious driver.

As you entered the room, you were relieved to see that Ollie was still breathing steadily, hooked up to various monitors and machines. You checked his vital signs and began to assess his injuries, carefully examining his broken arm and fractured ribs.

"Hey there, Ollie," you spoke softly, knowing he most probably wouldn't be able to hear you. "You had us all pretty worried yesterday, but you're in good hands now. We're going to make sure you recover fully."

You adjusted the IV drip and jotted down some notes on Ollie's chart, your eyes flickering to the bouquet in your hand. You decided it was time to introduce some positivity into the room and placed the flowers on the bedside table.

"These are for you," you said, smiling gently. "Hydrangeas. They symbolise perseverance and renewal. I thought they might bring some positivity to the room."

You stood there for a moment, just watching him, wondering what was going on in his mind. It was a strange but powerful feeling to care so deeply about someone you had only just met, but there was something about Ollie that pulled you in. A driver so young, he had his whole life ahead, his ultimate goal yet to be reached.

"I hope you wake up soon," you said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "There are a lot of people who care about you, Ollie. You're not alone in this."

With a final glance at the unconscious driver, you made your way out of the hospital room, hoping that Ollie would feel your positive energy and that he would wake up soon.

DAY 3

You walked into Ollie's hospital room, carrying a fresh bouquet of white lilies. It was the third day since the accident, and Ollie was still unconscious, but you were determined to keep talking to him, hoping that somehow he would hear your voice.

"Good morning, Ollie," you whispered, placing the flowers on the bedside table. "I hope you're feeling a little bit better today."

You began to assess his vital signs, checking his heart rate and blood pressure. As you worked, you spoke to him, telling him about the progress he was making, the tests you were running, and the plans you had for his recovery.

"I brought you these lilies," you said, gesturing to the flowers. "This time, it symbolises purity, quite fitting for your recovery, isn’t it?"

You paused for a moment, studying Ollie's face. He looked peaceful, but you knew that his injuries were severe, and his road to recovery wouldn’t be easy.

"But don't worry, Ollie," you said, reaching out to touch his hand. "You're a fighter, and I am here with you. I know it would probably sound unsettling to you that a stranger is speaking like this to you even though you probably can't hear me, I feel like I need to talk to you…" your face contorts into a sheepish smile, “I am waiting for you to wake up so I can assure you that I am no creep.”

As you finished checking up on him for the day, you sat down next to Ollie's bed, taking his hand in yours. “Let me tell you a bit about myself today. I don’t think it’s fair to completely leave you in the dark. I am YN, your head doctor.”

Your eyes trailed from his hand in your palms to his face, looking ever so calm, “Did you know that I have initially wanted to be a racing driver just like you? You wouldn’t believe it when I tell you about how I won a karting championship when I was 10-” you continued talking about your experiences on the track.

After a few minutes, you stood up, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll be back tomorrow, Ollie," you said. "Rest up, and keep fighting."

DAY 4

The fourth day since Ollie's crash, you entered his hospital room, holding a fresh bouquet of flowers in one hand and a clipboard in the other. You checked the usual, there wasn’t much improvement. Ollie remained unconscious, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of worry.

"It’s me again, Ollie," you sighed, taking a seat by his bedside. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound tired. Today I brought you Angel's Trumpets. They're supposed to represent healing and transformation."

You placed the flowers by the window, adjusting their position so that they caught the light just right. Then you turned your attention back to Ollie and readjusted his pillows, making sure his head was properly supported.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about why I became a doctor," you began, more to yourself than to Ollie. "It's not just about fixing broken bones or treating illnesses. It's about making a connection with people, helping them through difficult times. And that's what I'm here to do for you, Ollie. To help you get through this and come out stronger on the other side."

You turned to look at the flowers resting by the window, a pool of sadness gnawing on your chest as you continued. “Did I tell you why I brought these flowers, yet? I mean, sure I did tell you they hold special meaning but looking at these flowers, I couldn't help but think that they hold some sort of magic. I feel like it’s not just me, the team, your friends, fans and family who are rooting for you but also these flowers that look after you, you know?" a sad smile takes over your features.

“Wait, I sound crazy, don’t I?” you said, before getting reminded of the fact that you had yet to have lunch. “Would you mind if I have my lunch today here, Ollie?”

Without waiting for a response, you took out your lunchbox and set it on the bedside table. “For today, I’m having oven heated pasta.” You began to eat, occasionally glancing at Ollie's still form. “Mhm, it smells weird but you know what? I don’t care. I have been having a hard time cooking these days so I am having these store bought ones. I don’t know what happened to my patience. I cannot handle having to stand in front of the stove for over 20 minutes but I can certainly stand in an operating room, doing surgery for god knows how many hours one takes depending on the injury.”

As you sat there, finishing up your lunch and talking to Ollie, you noticed that the sky outside had started to darken. A few drops of rain splattered against the window, and before you knew it, a downpour had started.

The sound of the rain hitting the window was soothing, and you found yourself getting lost in thought. You wondered if Ollie could hear the rain, if it would have any effect on his state of mind.

The rain continued to pour down, and you watched as the drops ran down the window in rivulets. You felt a sense of calm settle over you, as if the rain had washed away all of your worries and fears.

As the rain gradually started to subside, you turned your attention back to Ollie. "It's raining outside, Ollie," you said softly. "It's one of those rainstorms that makes everything feel fresh and new. There are many people who don’t like rain but me? I personally love it when it rains. It’s so beautiful outside right now. I wish you could witness it."

You picked up one of the flowers that was resting by the window before slightly opening it and held it up outside, letting the raindrops fall onto the petals. "See how the rain is nourishing this flower, making it stronger and more resilient? That's what I want for you, Ollie. I want you to be strong and resilient, to come back to us even stronger than before."

The rain continued to fall outside, but you felt a sense of hope growing inside you. You knew that Ollie had a long road ahead of him, but you were determined to help him through it, no matter what it took.

With that, you rose from your seat and made your way to the door. You turned back for one last look at Ollie, sending a silent prayer his way before stepping out into the hallway.

DAY 5

Ollie's eyes flickered open, the sterile white of the hospital room blinding him momentarily. The last thing he remembered was the screeching of tires and the sickening crunch of metal as his car collided with another on the track. He tried to move, but his body felt heavy and unresponsive. Panic rose in his chest as he realised that something was very wrong.

But then he heard a voice, soft and comforting, that seemed to be coming from beside him. He turned his head as much as he could, and saw a girl, a bit older than him, clad in a white coat standing there, looking at him with widened eyes.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, hands over your mouth before forcing yourself to close it. “I- I am so sorry. This is so unprofessional of me… b-but… you’re awake?”

Ollie blinked, trying to focus on your words. He didn't remember you, but something about your voice was familiar. Then it clicked - he had been hearing your voice in his dreams. You had been talking to him all this time, even though he couldn't respond.

He tried to speak, but his throat was dry and scratchy. You noticed and poured a glass of water, holding it to his lips so he could take a few sips.

"Thank you," he managed to whisper, his voice weak.

“No problem! I’m your doctor, YN," you said reassuringly. "I've been monitoring your progress since you were brought in after the crash. You had a severe concussion and multiple fractures. You've been in a coma for the past few days."

As you spoke, Ollie felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had been terrified that he might never wake up again, but now that he was conscious, he felt hopeful that he might make a full recovery.

He looked at you again, taking in the kindness in your eyes, and felt a rush of gratitude towards you. You had been taking care of him even though he was unconscious, and he couldn't thank you enough for it.

"Thank you," he repeated, his voice still hoarse.

"You don't need to thank me," you replied with a small smile. "It's my job. But I'm glad to see you're doing better."

You walked into Ollie's hospital room, finding him sitting up in bed and looking a bit down. "Hey there," you greeted him with a warm smile. "How are you feeling today?"

Ollie shrugged. "Better, I guess. Just a bit frustrated that I can't be out on the track right now."

"I can imagine," you said sympathetically. "Motorsports must be a big part of your life, huh?"

"Yeah, it's everything to me," Ollie replied, his eyes lighting up. "The speed, the adrenaline, the competition...there's nothing like it."

You nodded, leaning against the wall next to his bed. "I can see why it's such a passion for you. It takes a lot of dedication and skill to race at the level you do."

Ollie smiled. "Thanks. It's definitely not easy, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I used to race go-karts when I was a kid," you admitted, recalling your own memories of the track. "It's not quite the same as what you do, but I understand the excitement and the rush you get from it."

"Really?" Ollie asked, genuinely interested. "That's so cool. What was it like?"

"It was intense," you said with a laugh. "But also a lot of fun. It's been years since I've been behind the wheel of a go-kart, though. I'm a bit out of practice."

"I'm sure you still have it in you," Ollie said, grinning. "Maybe we can go to a go-kart track together when I'm all healed up."

You chuckled. "I think I'd like that. It'd be nice to get back on the track again, even if it's just for fun."

As you both continued to chat about your love of motorsports, you couldn't help but feel a connection growing between you two. Ollie's passion for racing was infectious, and you found yourself admiring his determination and drive. In turn, Ollie appreciated your genuine interest in his sport and your willingness to share your own experiences with him.

By the end of the conversation, both of you felt a little more uplifted and connected than before. As you left the room, Ollie couldn't help but feel grateful for your presence and the unexpected bond he had formed with you.

Ollie was relieved to finally hear the news that he had been waiting for. He had been in the hospital for what felt like an eternity, and he was eager to get back on the track. The doctor had just cleared him to leave, but with one condition - he needed to undergo rehabilitation before he could race again.

The thought of rehabilitation had never been a pleasant one for Ollie. He had always been someone who wanted to push through the pain and get back to racing as soon as possible. But he knew that this time, he had to follow the orders.

As he was packing his bags to leave the hospital, he heard a knock on the door. It was you, the doctor who had been in charge of his care since he had been admitted. "Hey, Ollie," you said with a smile. "I heard you're being discharged today. I wanted to come say goodbye."

Ollie was surprised by your visit, but grateful for it. "Thanks, doc," he said. "I really appreciate all that you've done for me."

You smiled. "Of course, Ollie. It's my job. But before you leave, I wanted to talk to you about your rehabilitation."

Ollie sighed. "Yeah, I know. I'm not looking forward to it."

"I know it's not easy," you said. "But it's important if you want to get back to racing at your full potential. I can help you with exercises and physical therapy sessions if you'd like. And if you need someone to talk to during the process, I'm here for you."

Ollie was taken aback by your offer. He had never met a doctor who was so invested in his well-being outside of the hospital. "Thank you, doc," he said. "That means a lot to me. I'll take you up on your offer."

Ollie had been feeling increasingly frustrated with his slow progress in his recovery. Despite being cleared to leave the hospital, he still had a long road ahead of him with rehabilitation. The first few days after his release were particularly difficult, as he struggled with the limitations of his body and the pain that came with trying to regain strength.

But you were true to your words as you had been a constant presence throughout his recovery journey. You visited him daily and worked with him on his exercises, patiently encouraging him and pushing him to do just a little bit more each day.

Today, you were working on his leg strength. Ollie lay on his back on the mat, his legs propped up on an exercise ball as you stood beside him, holding his ankles steady.

"Okay, Ollie, we're going to start with some leg raises," you said, your voice calm and measured. "Just lift your left leg up towards the ceiling, and then slowly lower it back down. We'll do ten reps on each side."

Ollie gritted his teeth as he lifted his left leg, his muscles protesting at the effort. But he focused on the task at hand, determined to push himself as hard as he could. With each rep, the burn in his muscles grew stronger, but he could feel the satisfaction of his progress as well.

As you gave him instructions for the next exercise, Ollie found himself distracted by your presence. He couldn't help but stare at you, taking in the way your hair fell over your face as you leaned over him.

"Is everything okay, Ollie?" you asked, noticing his gaze.

"Oh, sorry," Ollie said, chuckling. "I was just lost in thought. I didn't mean to stare."

You smiled at him, shaking your head. "It's okay, Ollie. Just let me know if there's anything on my face or anything like that."

Ollie nodded, his gaze meeting yours again. "You know, I've been thinking. I know you're a big motorsport fan, and I've been wanting to ask you something."

"What is it?" you asked, curious.

"Well, once I'm fully recovered, would you want to come to a race with me? I think it would be great to experience it with someone who shares the same passion as I do," Ollie said, excitement evident in his voice.

You sent him a teasing glance. "First, you said you'd take me go-karting, and now you're saying you'll take me to a race? You do know I'm a doctor, right?" But you couldn't help but grin at his enthusiasm. "I'd love that too, Ollie."

The day of Ollie's last physical therapy session had finally arrived. As you both walked towards the therapy room, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. On one hand, you were proud of the progress Ollie had made and excited for him to finally be able to race again. On the other hand, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness knowing that this would be your last session together.

As you entered the therapy room, Ollie's eyes were shining with determination. You could tell he was ready to give it his all, one last time. "Let's do this," he said, his voice full of confidence.

For the next hour, you led Ollie through the exercises that had become second nature to him over the past few weeks. But this time, there was a sense of urgency in his movements, a drive to make every rep count. You could see the sweat pouring down his face, and the strain in his muscles as he pushed himself to his limit.

As the session came to an end, Ollie collapsed onto the mat, breathing heavily but with a huge smile on his face. "I did it," he said, his voice full of triumph.

"You sure did," you replied, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I'm so proud of you, Ollie. You've come so far."

Ollie looked up at you, his eyes bright. "I couldn't have done it without you," he said, his voice full of gratitude. "You believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself."

You felt your heart swell with emotion as Ollie continued to speak. "You gave me the strength to keep going, even when things were tough. I don't think I could have made it here without you."

You tried to hold back tears as you looked at Ollie, knowing that this would be your last session together. "You're the one who did the hard work, Ollie. I just helped guide you along the way."

But Ollie shook his head, his expression serious. "No, I mean it. You've been my rock through all of this. And I want you to be there with me when I finally get to race again. You're not just my doctor, you're my friend."

You couldn't help but feel a lump form in your throat as you looked at Ollie, realising how much he had come to mean to you over the past few weeks. "I'd love to be there with you," you said, your voice full of emotion.

As you both left the therapy room, you knew that Ollie was ready to tackle anything that came his way. And you knew that you would always be there, cheering him on, no matter what.

After months of hard work and dedication, Ollie was finally cleared by the doctors to race again. He couldn't believe it - he had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity. As he strapped himself into his car, he couldn't help but feel a sense of nervous excitement wash over him. This was it - the moment he had been waiting for.

As the race began, Ollie's heart pounded in his chest. He had trained for months, but this was different. This was the real deal, and he was determined to give it his all. He took turns with expert precision, pushing his car to its limits. The wind rushed past him as he sped down the straightaways, and he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. This was where he belonged - on the racetrack, pushing himself to the limit.

As the race progressed, you cheered Ollie on from the sidelines. You had watched him train and work hard for months, and you were proud to see him back on the track. As he rounded each corner, your heart raced with anticipation. You could see the determination in Ollie's eyes, and you knew he was giving it his all.

"Come on, Ollie!" you yelled, pumping your fist in the air. "You've got this!"

The crowd around you erupted into cheers as Ollie crossed the finish line, his car roaring triumphantly. You could see the look of pure joy on his face, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. You had been there for him every step of the way, and seeing him achieve his dreams was an incredible feeling.

As Ollie pulled his car into the pits, he looked up to see you waiting for him. He climbed out of his car, grinning from ear to ear.

"Did you see that?" he asked, his voice filled with excitement.

You nodded, a huge smile on your face. "You were amazing, Ollie. I'm so proud of you."

Ollie pulled you into a tight hug, laughing with joy. "I couldn't have done it without you," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

You hugged him back, feeling a sense of warmth spread through your chest. This was what it was all about - supporting the people you care about and celebrating their successes. You knew that this was only the beginning for Ollie, and you couldn't wait to see where his racing career would take him next.

#ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman imagine #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman fanfic #f2 imagine #f2 fanfic #f2 writing #f2 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 writing #f2 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f2 fic #f1 fic #f1 fic rec

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katsu28 · 8 months

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save the day

pairing: firefighter!JJ Maybank x fem!reader

summary: an AU in which JJ is a firefighter and goes on a rather interesting call (2k)

a/n: my submission for day one of @surftrips obx writing week! unfortunately this is the only day i’ll be able to participate in due to things happening in my personal life right now but definitely check out everyone else participating in the challenge!! <3

Being a firefighter in a big city looked different from day to day. Sometimes it looked like fighting a multi-story blaze engulfing a skyscraper downtown. Sometimes it meant running drills on the apparatus floor all day because the station never got any calls. Sometimes it looked like pulling people out of burning buildings or prying them out of wrecked cars, with the occasional water rescue.

And sometimes it looked like this—heading out on a call to rescue a cat stuck in a tree.

JJ liked the unpredictability of it all, the thrill that came with never knowing just quite what he’d be up against when the alarm bells went off. He liked being able to help people when they needed it most.

At Station P4, they rotated shifts in the ambulance. Today was JJ’s turn to ride the ambo, and he loved it just as much. He flicked on the siren as he pulled out of the driveway, rolling down the driver’s side window to let the breeze whip through his already wild blond curls.

“Dude, can you at least try to obey some traffic laws?” The man sitting in the passenger seat huffed, gripping the handle beside him a little tighter.

Pope Heyward was one of JJ’s best friends at the station. They’d come up through the fire academy together and got assigned to different stations at first, but were eventually both assigned to the same one. JJ liked to call it fate that they ended up together in the end, because Pope was one of the reasons why he hadn’t gotten dropped in the early stages of training.

“That’s the beauty of the siren, my friend!” JJ exclaimed, banking a hard left with a gleeful smile. “Turn and burn, baby!”

The location of the call was fairly close to home, so it didn’t take long to arrive at the scene. JJ pulled the ambo to a stop right before the fire engine did the same, grabbing the jump bag from the back before jogging to catch up with the rest of his fellow firefighters.

There were seven of them total, each one of them making up the rest of JJ’s closest friends. John B. was the station’s captain, but he never acted like he was above the rest of his crew. Kie was his trusty right hand, and Sarah was on track to making lieutenant in a few months. Last but certainly not least, there was Cleo, the station’s newest addition, a probationary firefighter with spunk for days and a fiery attitude (no pun intended).

Together they formed what JJ liked to call “the dream team”, working together like a well oiled machine in whatever situation they were thrown into.

JJ fell into step with Kie, elbowing her playfully. “Ten bucks we’ll get the cat down in under twenty.”

“Make it under fifteen and you’re on.”

“Thank god you guys are here!” You exclaimed from where you were standing under a giant oak tree, looking fraught with worry. JJ’s smile faltered for a split second and he nearly tripped over his own boots, too distracted by you. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but if he did, he imagined it would feel something like this. “I tried to get her down, but she kept going higher and I didn’t want her to fall out of the tree and I didn’t think I should go up there so I called you guys! Is that—is that allowed? Does this count as an emergency, can you guys get her down?”

JJ shook himself out of his daze, opening his mouth to respond, but John B. was faster, offering a more collected reply than JJ probably could in his state.

“Of course we can get her down, ma’am, you did the right thing by calling. Let us take a look, assess the situation, then we’ll see if we can’t get her down from there safely.” He’d turned his captain’s voice on, the one that made him sound all official and professional and made JJ kind of want to bust out laughing. Now that wouldn’t have been professional at all.

“Okay, okay, thank you so much,” You breathed, shoulders sagging with relief. The team spread out under the looming tree, peering up into the canopy to locate the cat. One of the highest branches hissed and shook violently, then there she was, a very angry ball of fur with big yellow eyes glaring down at them.

“Does she normally do this? Climb up trees and not come down?” John B asked, cocking his head.

“No, she doesn’t, and that’s why I’m worried! She usually never tries to leave the house, but I just opened the door for a second to grab a package and she bolted outside!”

JJ could tell you were on the verge of panic, and he also noticed the long gash on your arm.

“Quite a nasty scratch you got there, ma’am. Why don’t we let my friends rescue your feline friend while I check out that wound, yeah?” He insisted, nodding towards the ambulance. You looked apprehensive at first, but he turned on the charm, flashing you a pearly white smile that had you nodding slowly and following him. “Did she scratch you?”

“Yeah, a little bit when I was first trying to get her down. It’s nothing though, it doesn’t even hurt that much.”

“Well, I gotta check it out regardless, so if you wouldn’t mind having a seat for me right there.” JJ rummaged through the jump bag for a pair of exam gloves, snapping them on quickly before gesturing for you to give him your arm. You still looked a little uneasy, so he decided to try and lighten the conversation a bit while he examined the scratch running the length of your whole forearm. “I’m JJ. What’s your name?” You told him your name and he repeated it, letting it roll off his tongue easily. He thought it was a really pretty name. Seemed fitting for a pretty girl like you. “And your cat? She got a pretty name too?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, looking a little embarrassed now. “Her name’s Porkchop.” JJ cleared his throat, trying his best not to laugh. “It’s stupid, I know—”

“No, no, it’s not stupid! Porkchop is a very distinguished name. My great uncle’s nickname was Porkchop, and he was pretty cool.” The cut on your arm was long, but shallow and pretty clean, no excessive bleeding or anything else that would suggest a need to take you to the hospital for further medical examination. He grabbed a few supplies that he needed to wrap the wound, spreading them out between the two of you.

“Is that a joke?”

“Uh…yeah, it was a joke,” JJ admitted sheepishly, cheeks flushing pink. “It wasn’t a very good one now that I think about it.”

“Is this your way of trying to keep me calm?”

“It’s…an attempt. Is it working?”

Your mouth quirked up into a small smile. “Yeah, it is.”

“Good. I’m glad. Because I gotta clean your cut, and it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker.” He said solemnly. You shifted in your seat, eyeing the cleaning solution in his hand nervously. “You can hold my hand, if you want.” He added, propping your arm up on his knee to free up his other hand.

He wasn’t expecting you to take him up on his offer, but you reached for him immediately, curling your fingers around his own. Thank god you weren’t able to feel how his pulse skyrocketed at your touch.

You squeezed his hand hard, letting out a pained hiss at the stinging sensation that came with JJ’s care. He bandaged your forearm as quick as he could, though he contemplated taking his time so you wouldn’t let go of him for a little while longer.

“M’kay, all done. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. Didn’t hurt.”

“Didn’t seem like that with the way you were gripping my hand,” He teased, bumping his knee against yours. You were still smiling at him and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was making him a little flustered. Maybe even nervous. And he never got nervous. “If you could just fill this out while I go grab something from the engine, I’ll be right back. It’s just a release form saying that you consent to us not taking you down to the hospital. Standard procedure, just crossing our I’s, dotting our T’s.”

JJ hopped down from the ledge, passing a clipboard to you and hurrying towards where Pope was spotting Kie on the ladder before you could realize he’d totally butchered that expression. “Pope! Yo, Pope, I gotta talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“What’s the policy on asking out people we save?”

“You wanna ask out the cat?” Pope snickered.

JJ rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t. You know what I mean. And her name’s Porkchop, by the way.”

“Cute. But no, there’s not really any policy against it, I guess. Not one that I know of, anyways.”

“Yeah?” He cocked his head thoughtfully, gears inside already turning. Pope nodded. “Good to know.”

“Hey, wait, that doesn’t mean you should—” JJ was out of earshot before Pope could finish his sentence, beelining right back for the ambo to you. Just as he came around the corner, you looked up, capping your pen, holding the clipboard back out to him.

“All done? You’re fast, I like it.”

“My number is on the medical form. In case you need to follow up on anything in the near future.” You offered, running your fingers along your bandage absentmindedly.

“Ah, so we usually don’t do the follow-ups, that would be—oh. Oh! You meant—got it, you want me to….yeah. I mean, I want to, ‘cause you seem cool.” It was like word vomit escaping JJ’s mouth, because he couldn’t seem to stop talking, but you just smiled warmly at him, giving his hand a soft squeeze. He kind of liked that you’d made the first move instead of him.

Throughout this, the rest of his team had managed to get Porkchop down from the tree, as evident by the way she was purring in Kie’s arms contently like she hadn’t just scratched the shit out of you earlier.

You leapt away from JJ quickly, though he wasn’t sure if it was more about not being caught cozying up to him or that your cat was now safe and sound. He hoped it was the latter.

“Thank you so much!” You gushed, gathering your beloved cat into your arms as Kie passed her off to you. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—you guys are the best.”

“Just doin’ our job, ma’am.” John B nodded, tipping his helmet towards you.

“Some more than others.” muttered Pope. It went unnoticed by you, but JJ heard the comment, giving his friend a swift stomp on the foot in return. “I mean, we’re happy we could help.”

“If JJ’s all done patching you up, we can go ahead and wrap up, leave you to the rest of your day.”

“Uh, yeah. Yep, all set and ready to go, JB.”

“Right then. You have a good day, ma’am. You too, Porkchop. Try not to climb any more trees, ‘kay?”

The rest of JJ’s team filed back towards the engine and Pope made his way up to the front of the ambo, leaving you and JJ alone yet again.

“Talk to you soon?” You asked hopefully, shifting Porkchop higher in your arms.

“You know it,” JJ replied, shooting you his signature wink. He went to hop into the driver’s seat swiftly, taking another few seconds to soak in the sight of you smiling bashfully at him before he had to drive away.

“You asked her out, didn’t you?”

“What? Of course not. Why would you even think such a thing?” Even as he spoke, there was a giddy sort of smile on his face, one that Pope clocked in on immediately.

“You’re lying! You’re such a liar, you totally asked her out! JJ, you really—” Whatever Pope was about to say was cut off as JJ cranked up the radio as loud as it could go, drowning out the other man’s complaints.

So yeah, being a firefighter in a big city looked different from day to day. Some days held bigger calls than others, but sometimes it was the smaller calls that were the most memorable. Days like today.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

#obxweek23 #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x fem!reader #firefighter!jj maybank #jj maybank au #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x y/n #outer banks

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blamemma · 9 months

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miss blamemma, please could you detail what you think happened between michael and daniel for the rest of us that are obsessed with the drama?!

i truly wish i could just upload the voicenotes i've sent to the besties today about this because that would be SO much easier but ok here we go....

i don't think there is one cataclysmic event that led them to fall out, i think it's an amalgamation of a couple of things.

privacy and money; michael loves popularity, loves money, loves business, loves social media, montesises his drivers (he's doing that now with his reels of yuki as well). there has to come a point, for me, where that crosses the boundaries of your role as a trainer. as a trainer, you have to be there for your driver, your driver is your number one priority. if that driver no longer feels they can trust you, then you are not doing your job. michael going on multiple podcasts and dropping tidbits about daniel's life and training and difficulties here and there is not a good look, and i think of the most telling is that testosterone article. michael worked with daniel for the last 5 years so people are going to presume that it is about daniel and on the back of that i saw multiple articles that were headlined something along the fucked up lines of "daniel ricciardo's trainer reveals he broke sex ban with hot young girlfriend heidi berger" (here & here and there are definitely more examples!) and daniel is a relatively private guy about his relationship so having that blasted everywhere cause ur ex-trainer talked about male hormones?? and then yeah u have that podcast thing today....

i have no proof, but i truly believe that michael wanted daniel to take the haas or williams seat so that he (michael) could stay in f1 because again, being in this prestigious sports gets him followers and engagement = money. therefore, when daniel went to him for advice michael may not have been open and willing to daniel's idea of a sabbatical, because it didn't really mean employment for michael (to caveat here, not having job security is a very daunting thing, and i am not saying michael is wrong for worrying about this, however, michael is paid and contracted by daniel and i dont think daniel would have been paying him a cheap wage these past 5 years)

i think daniel has had the time to step away from mclaren, process what happened there, enter red bull again and see how they manage their drivers, move to alpha tauri and see how they manage and speak about their drivers and then truly assess and process the year that last year was. whether you believe michael was foundational in daniel's issues last year or not, he was in control of his diet and exercise regime and his general health and we can all clearly see that deteriorated over the mclaren period and it may be daniel has now stepped away, assessed, talked to some fellow drivers like max (who then stuck up for him in that press conference when michael was brought up, hence why i think he spoke to max about) and how they get on with their trainers and thought hmmmm michael wasn't like that

other factors include michael being very close and friendly with mclaren engineers and social media people (again, valid, you want to get on with the people you work with, but again, your priority should be daniel especially in a tumultuous team like that!) & michael constantly saying he wanted to bigger than daniel, even to the point he started training his neck so that he could say he had a bigger neck than daniel....weird behaviour when you're meant to be motivating ur driver, not ultimately trying to beat them when they're already down in the dumps???

this is genuinely all conjecture and theories and i have no evidence for any of the shit i am spouting here but i am just going on the info we have and the things we have seen and trying to connect dots....

#anon #asks #dr #michael italiano #<- purely incase anyone is bored of this chat and wants to block the tag for a bit sorry!!#actually know mi makes more sense so im not clogging the tag in case people follow the tag (lol)

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alearicci · 9 months

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"just a little scratch...” – DR3

pairings: daniel ricciardo x girlfriend!reader; daniel ricciardo x girlfriend!you

summary: you, your Daniel Ricciardo and the second practice.

note: I cry like hell. god, why him...

I think you will not like it very much, because I wrote this little one shot on terrible emotions. sorry for the mistakes and OMG, I HAVE 56 READERS TYSM.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ♡⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The second practice in Zandvoort.

In the first practice, Dan was the 13th, there is something to strive for and what to fix. In any case, this is not a qualification or even a race, but only a training race where they will be able to practice on the track, assess their capabilities, finalize some points and be fully ready to step into the weekend of the Dutch Grand Prix. He kept smiling no matter what.

He is obliged to show himself well in AlphaTauri in order to return to the RBR.

He dreams about it every time before going to bed and wakes up with the same thought.

He dreams of becoming a world champion. And the Red Bull car is considered the strongest among all those who are on the starting grid. Daniel is not a weakling either.

But it's hard to even think about it when you're on the starting grid with Max Verstappen. Daniel had a good and friendly relationship with Max. But how the Australian wanted to wipe his nose and get around him.

You were standing in the paddock and before the practice started, you decided to approach your boyfriend to wish him good practice and kiss him for good luck. But they stopped you and told you that Dan was ready to leave. You blew him a kiss.

Daniel saw it and did the same. But there was one problem. He was already in his helmet and his visor was closed, which is why he kissed you back, but you didn't notice it.

When the sun broke through the clouds a little, illuminating the picturesque race track, Daniel Ricciardo was determined to succeed. The second training session was about to begin - this is a chance for an Australian racer to hone his skills and get an adrenaline rush, which always occurs when his car was working at the limit of its capabilities. However, he didn't know that this day would test his resilience like never before.

The training started and nothing foreshadowed trouble, although Dan had already noticed the strange behavior of his car during the first training session, but ignored it, considering that it was just a minor problem that could be easily fixed. He did not even suspect that a much more serious storm was brewing, which would destroy his hopes and dreams in a matter of seconds.

Grabbing the steering wheel of his car, Daniel felt a wave of electricity run through his veins. The noise of the crowd, the smell of burning rubber, and the realization that he was about to embark on a dance of speed and precision filled him completely. The pit lane was cleared, and he took off on the track, striving to leave his mark and show a good time even in training.

Working harder and harder with each lap, Daniel was focused, his heart pounding almost to the rhythm of the engine. But just at the moment when he was preparing to masterfully maneuver in a sharp turn, disaster struck.

Ahead of him, Oscar Piastri, a McLaren driver, lost control of his car and crashed into the guardrail.

In the blink of an eye, his entire positive attitude turned into a nightmare. The smile quickly faded from his face.

Daniel tried to let go of the steering wheel, his right hand let go of the steering wheel, and then he grabbed it back when Oscar's car was potentially in his way, which led to terrible consequences.

The blow was sudden and strong, causing Daniel's left arm to even throb with pain. The realization hit him like a dagger–the metacarpal bone was broken. An unpleasant feeling gripped him as he headed back to the pits, his dreams of success in racing slipping away with every agonizing second.

Despite the overwhelming pain, a sense of determination and defiance blossomed in Ricciardo's heart. He knew that he would have to deal with the pain both for himself and for his loyal fans who supported him throughout the journey.

When you saw everything that was happening, you immediately felt your legs give way and your vision blurred. You were about to faint if it weren't for the firm grip of one of the engineers who happened to be near you.

You felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest. It could have ended much worse.

Dan was immediately taken to the medical center and you didn't even have time to tell him anything. I could have run and gone with him, but your well-being was seriously shaken. Your heart was pounding, and your face showed concern. The thought of the pain of a loved one tormented you from the inside, but you knew that you had to remain calm for the sake of both of you. You have already seen Daniel overcome countless difficulties, and it was at these moments that you most admired his resilience.

While he was being X-rayed, Ricciardo's mind sank into the depths of his emotions. He couldn't deny the disappointment that threatened to engulf him. The opportunity to demonstrate his talent and compete at the highest level was cruelly taken away from him. And he couldn't realize: whose mistake was it? If he hadn't turned into the wall, would he have crashed into Oscar? What would happen in this case?

He struggled with a mixture of anger, sadness, and a tinge of guilt.

Why him? Why now? Will he be able to regain the level of performance he fought so hard for? How will this affect his further races? Doubt and uncertainty began to creep into his mind, fast and lightning-fast, like a shadow, but Ricciardo did not let him linger. He knew that he needed to channel his energy into the difficult task of recovery.

As soon as he returned to the paddock, with a bandage on his left arm, you couldn't stand it and burst into tears, covering your face with your hands.

Dan came up to you and gently hugged you with his right hand, kissing your forehead.

"I'm fine. Just a little scratch. Just a little scratch..."

His light–hearted response did little to ease your anxiety, or rather, did not ease it with everything, but reminded you of the qualities that you valued in Daniel - his unwavering optimism, his ability to find humor even in the most difficult situations. You knew he was determined to overcome this setback, no matter how serious it was.

And you will always be there to support him.

#f1 imagine #oneshot #f1 #formula one #daniel ricciardo #dr3 #dr3 x reader #ric3 #dan ricciardo

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fragilecapric0rnn · 2 years

Text

LISTEN. I was ready to ride the Steve Becomes A Teacher train all the way home. It’s in my fics, it’s in my planned fics. But but but LISTEN.

Steve becoming a first responder?

A little bit post-S4, Steve is driving home to Hawkins after moving to Indy/Chicago/a major city that’s still within reasonable driving distance for him to come see the kids. Eddie is in the passenger seat and they’re zooming down the highway, one of those picture perfect moments where they’re singing along to a Madonna song, that Eddie was complaining about just moments ago.

Steve, always striving to be the safest driver on the road, mostly because he is almost always transporting precious cargo in the form of his loved ones, isn’t the one who sees it at first. It isn’t until Eddie loudly gasps and points out a pretty horrific car accident unfolding before their eyes in the next lane over.

Steve pulls off to the side, a fair distance behind wreck. One of the cars is turned completely around in the other direction, the front smashed in. The other cars are also damaged, but the passengers are getting out. No one has gotten out of the turned around car.

Without a word, without questions from either of them, the two get out of the Beamer. Eddie goes up to the other cars, a woman who’s crying her eyes out and a young family all looking spooked out of their minds, but all seemingly alright. All of this is happening in Steve’s peripheral because he is now sprinting toward the car that no one has gotten out of. He sees the shape of the driver, head laid back on the headrest, unconscious.

“Don’t move her!” “We need to wait for help!” Bystanders yell at him. Steve doesn’t respond, the driver door now open, as he checks the girl, who looks so young that mental images of one of his kids being in her place flash across his brain, tug at his heart.

“Eddie!” He yells past the lump in his throat, but it looks like his boyfriend was already reading his mind, as he runs over with the first aid kit that’s always stationed in the trunk of his car.

He finds her pulse as Eddie settles beside him. He’s checking for broken bones as the girl comes to. He’s telling her to sit back and that everything is okay as Eddie is yelling at the crowd forming around them to back up, he knows what he’s doing.

Steve gets the flashlight out of the kit, shining it in her eyes, asking her what her name is, what day it is, who the president is, she hesitates to answer but answers all the questions.

Eddie isn’t sure if this first aid knowledge is from all the times Steve’s been assessed after all the Upside Down shit or if it’s because of his own research, though he realizes as watches Steve keep the girl calm and gently keep her from moving around at all, it’s both.

Eddie continues to watch when the ambulance gets to the scene. He watches Steve tell the EMTs that the girl is concussed and has no other visible injuries. He watches as they assess her themselves and as they ask Steve if he’s off duty, motioning to his extensive first aid kit. Steve just says he’s had his fair share of emergencies and he knows what he’s doing.

After the ambulance leaves, Steve and Eddie walking back to their car, even though traffic is backed up all the way to their apartment it seems, Eddie can’t stop thinking about how easily Steve fit into the “hero” role. How, sure, it’s residual Savior Of The World shit, but can’t it also be more now that the world is saved?

When they’re back on the road, hours later, and close to home, Eddie asks,

“Have you ever thought about becoming a paramedic?”

Steve doesn’t say anything. But he’s thinking. No, he hasn’t thought about it. But maybe he should start thinking about it.

#fic drabble #EMT Steve? I can see it. It's all I can see actually #steddie headcanon #steve harrington #this might be silly but i couldn't stop thinking about it at work #we get a lot of EMTs in the AM and it got me THINKING #my writing #i wrote this speedy quick so sorry in advance for typos or generally being incoherent #first responder steve #sen writes #my fic

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lady-t-driver · 9 months

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It took 2 weeks to hear back from my interview 🙈 I had started to think that I hadn't been successful, but thankfully, I did pass this stage. I was invited to attend a second assessment day in April, which would involve computerised tests and a multi-modal interview.

There were only 5 of us at this assessment day, and we were all taken into a room (full of computers) and allocated a desk each.

In this set of assessments, the computerised tests we were required to complete a situational judgement exercise and some vigilance & perception tests.

If we were successful with these, then we would be given a multi-modal interview with an assessor.

These exercises have been designed to assess a range of different characteristics that are required of a trainee driver either in training or whilst performing the job.

I found these tests ok, but I have to admit, I didn't find them as enjoyable as the first set of assessments 😅

Vigilance test.

During this test, the screen displayed a white screen, and in the middle of the white screen was a grey square that was constantly flashing. Throughout the test, this square occasionally got darker in colour. When this happened, I had to press a button on the keyboard as quickly as possible.

This tests vigilance and reaction speed. I had to to respond as quickly and accurately as possible during this test, as you are penalised for errors.

This test lasted for approximately 30 minutes.

A vigilance test.

During this test, i was presented with a series of photos of traffic scenes. I had a list of items to look out for within each scene, such as pedestrians, traffic lights, etc. After each picture briefly flashed on the screen, I had to select which items I saw in each picture. This was repeated several times with different images.

2 hand coordination test

This was my favourite 😅 its a bit like the game where you pass the loop over the electric wire without it touching.

In this test, you had 2 joysticks. The left joystick only operates left to right, and the right only operates up and down. On the screen, you will see a shape. You have to direct a ball, using your joysticks, through the shape from one side of the screen to the other, and keep it within the lines as best you can.

There are 10 shapes to complete in this test.

Situational judgement exercise.

This is a computerised questionnaire. It aims to measure how compatible your preferred ways of behaving are with the

safety requirements and characteristics of the train driving job.

The test consists of 21 everyday dilemma scenarios, each with one or more response options. Each response option describes actions that could be taken to try and resolve the situation. You will rate how helpful or unhelpful each response option is in dealing with the situation.

For example -

You arrive to collect your manager and drive him to the station. He has been in a meeting and sounds angry. You both go back to your car and get in. You put on your

seatbelt but he does not. You are aware that it is company policy for the driver to make sure that passengers have their seatbelts on.You say to your manager that you are all supposed to put seatbelts on but that you do not mind whether he does or not, it is his choice.

How helpful would this action be in resolving the situation?

1 Very unhelpful

2 Unhelpful

3 Neither helpful nor unhelpful

4 Helpful

5 Very helpful

Your ratings for all of the response options are used to calculate a measure of how closely your preferences match the ideal train driver in terms of behaviour.

Research has shown that train drivers who score highly on the SJE tend to be rated highly by their managers on the behavioural aspects of their performance.

Multi-modal interview

This interview is a special type of structured interview that

has been designed specifically to assess the characteristics needed for safe train driving.

The results of the interview are used together with the results from the situational judgement exercise and the other assessment methods to decide if you are suitable to become a train driver.

I was asked to give examples of different types of experiences that I have had. (You can use examples from training, education, leisure or family life. The interviewer will evaluate your answers in the same way regardless of the context so do not worry that non-work examples will be seen as less valuable.)

Once again, i did not find out my results on the day, i was told to keep an eye on my emails and thanked for attending.

#train driver assessments #train driver #train #railway #pre employment assessments

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 months

Note

Writing prompts! I'm sending them individually to make it easier to answer all or a few or none of them. They all turned out to be LU in Healthcare oops

When Hyrule is on a call and the patient is awake and alert enough to be scared, how does he help?

EMS calls had phases to them.

The first phase, of course, was getting dispatched, and responding to the scene. It was typical for emotions to run high immediately, for the adrenaline to spike, and everyone reacted differently. Hyrule usually ran scenarios through his head, easing his own anxiety by preparing himself based on the dispatch information. It wasn’t much, especially since dispatch could have faulty details, and he was more than happy to wing it… but it kept his mind preoccupied.

Mo’s usual response was to get aggravated. He would judge the dispatch information, would get irritated whenever a driver messed up and did something reckless. The man’s compassion was quiet and immense, but his stress came out in snappish quips directed at situations and nonexistent people.

The third phase began with their arrival. This was usually when they would figure out what they were actually dealing with.

A dispatch for chest pain meant Mo drove and Hyrule led. The secondary indicated a male in his 40s with severe chest pain and difficulty breathing. It couldn’t really get more cut and dry than that, Hyrule supposed. They had to drive to the central train station, which complicated matters. Hyrule had to agree as Mo grumbled about the situation - he hated crowded scenes.

As the pair walked inside with a stretcher loaded with supplies, they were directed to a secluded area, which surprised Hyrule. He was far more accustomed to people bunching up to stare, getting in his way and making his skin crawl. Instead, they were ferried into a small room, and Hyrule’s senses immediately went on alert at the sight of security guards.

He supposed one of the security members was the patient, then.

But no, because it was clear who the patient was, and his lack of security uniform was not the first thing Hyrule noticed. It was his grayish complexion, the sweat beading his forehead, the scrunched up expression of focus and agony fighting for control. It was the way the man was carefully rocking back and forth between leaning back and clutching his chest and leaning forward to open his airway because he couldn’t breathe. It was how silent he was, eyes piercing through the table in front of him as he fought with all his might with how he was feeling.

This man was sick.

Mo sensed it too, and immediately started to guide the stretcher in time with Hyrule as they reached the patient. Mo prepped the monitor to get the man’s vital signs and do an EKG to look at his heart while Hyrule assessed him and spoke to him.

“Hello, sir,” he greeted, eyes looking the man over. “What’s going on?”

“These gentlemen are being too dramatic,” the man wheezed, sharp eyes burning into the security guards. “I’m fine.”

The statement was so ludicrous even Mo stopped what he was doing to throw the patient a look.

“You sure don’t look fine,” Hyrule noted.

“That’s what we said,” one of the guards piped up. “His friend called us over because he nearly collapsed.”

Hyrule glanced around. “Where’s your friend?”

“I told him to get on the damn train,” the patient grumbled. “Which is where I should be.”

“Let’s make sure you’re okay first,” Hyrule advised him. “It won’t do you any good to board that train if you die before you reach your destination.”

Given the man’s attitude, Hyrule expected some kind of scoff or angry response, but instead, the man bit his lip, showing fear. A pang of sympathy went through the paramedic, and he put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Let’s just see what’s going on, okay?”

The man watched him a moment, saying nothing, eyes searching for something, and then he squeezed them shut, chin tilting down as he nodded.

“When did this start?”

The patient hesitated before answering. “It’s been going on for an hour or two. Just got much worse when were climbing the stairs.”

Alarm bells continued to ring in Hyrule’s mind as he listened. Time is heart tissue repeated over and over. He felt his own heart beat faster as the monitor collected information.

HR 118. BP 92/44 with a MAP of 60. RR 28, SpO2 89%, and the EKG…

ST elevation. Leads II and III, with reciprocal depression in V4. Shit.

This man was having a heart attack. He’d been having one, and he was going into shock.

“Sir, it looks like you’re having a heart attack,” Hyrule informed him as he and Mo moved into action, getting him oxygen through a nasal cannula that could also read capnogrpahy, moving bags off the stretcher so they could quickly get him on it. “Have you had one before? What kind of medical history do you have?”

The patient watched him a moment, growing paler, and then he squeezed his eyes closed yet again, trying to calm himself. “I smoke. Nothing else. Doc mentioned high blood pressure during the last exam, but he said cut the cigarettes and the stress. Didn’t need meds yet. I don’t take anything.”

“Any medical allergies?”

“No.”

“Have you taken anything for this pain?”

“Aspirin,” the man answered with a huff. “I started carrying it just in case.”

“Good thing,” Hyrule commented, patting him on the shoulder lightly. “We’re going to take good care of you, okay?”

Mo had the stretcher ready and in front of them, with the monitor behind the back of the cot. Hyrule shoulder the go bag and oxygen tank while assisting the patient to stand, pivot, and sit. The less strain on his struggling heart, the better.

Security helped clear a path for them as they moved quickly. Hyrule already had his phone in hand, telling the ER to call a STEMI alert. Once they were inside the ambulance, Mo helped Hyrule secure everything and then quickly went up front to drive them out of there. Hyrule grabbed defibrillator pads, placing them on the man’s chest.

“Are those necessary?” The man asked, far more out of fear and dread than anything else.

Hyrule tried to find a balance, tried to reassure the poor man as he moved. “They’re just a precaution. Right now I don’t see a big indication for them, but I like to be ready.”

As he moved on to start an IV, he worked on trying to distract the man. His oxygen saturation had improved with the oxygen, but his blood pressure was still low. Too low for nitroglycerin, which was contraindicated in an inferior MI anyway. Hyrule didn’t have many treatment options, and he hated that. He’d tentatively give fluids. The MAP was still survivable, but barely.

“You from Castle Town?” He asked with a small smile as he put the tourniquet on the man’s arm.

“No. Well. I was.” The man answered, watching him work before swearing under his breath and staring at the ceiling. “I’m supposed to be going home. This was my break from work.”

Hyrule struggled a bit to comment on that. He tried, “Well, once the hospital patches you up, you’ll be able to go home in better condition than you would’ve.”

“You mean alive,” the man remarked bitterly, huffing, “God certainly does like to fucking test me. But if he doesn’t kill me, my wife and daughter will.”

Hyrule was about to ask about them, but the patient picked up on his attempt and waved him off. “Please, just do what you need to do.”

Hyrule obliged him, thankful for the silence to focus. He got the 18G IV in the man’s forearm—for being a smoker he had very good veins and toned arms. He at least kept in shape in that regard.

As Hyrule ran out of things to do aside from observe, he grabbed his computer to collect information. He got the man’s name and date of birth, home address, basic medical information. He called the hospital and updated them.

Mo got them to the ED in record time. The pair quickly unloaded the stretcher and went inside, where charge told them to go to one of the major rooms. A group of three or four people was waiting for them, including Warriors and Legend and Twilight and an emergency physician, as well as a cardiologist. Hyrule gave his report quickly as they moved the patient and wished the man luck.

As he exited, he sighed, feeling the tension drain out of his body. They got him there alive. That was a victory. He hoped the hospital could help him.

“Hey Rulie!”

Hyrule turned and smiled as he saw Wild. “Hey! I thought you weren’t released to go back to work until next week?”

“Eh, I passed the last exam with flying colors,” Wild shrugged with a satisfied smirk. “I heal pretty well, you know.”

The crash flashed in his mind again. The blood. Wild’s broken body. Hyrule’s smile grew a little strained. “Please don’t strain yourself.”

“I won’t,” his friend replied sincerely. “I promise.”

Movement caught his eye, and Hyrule looked beyond to see Warriors and Twilight pushing the stretcher with his patient into the hall, likely heading for the cath lab. He was honestly surprised he himself hadn’t been directed to take the patient there directly.

Wild turned as well to look. “You brought him in?”

“Yeah,” Hyrule answered quietly as the man caught sight of him, pained, tired eyes scanning him before stopping at his companion.

The man jolted up, nearly ripping out an IV in the process. Hyrule jumped, startled, and watched Twilight fight the man to lie back down. He stepped forward, eager to help and soothe the man, who had mostly been reasonable for him. Wild stayed frozen in place.

“Abel, it’s okay,” Hyrule assured him. “They’re gonna help you.”

“L—Link—” the man said, arm reaching beyond Hyrule.

How did he know his…?

He wasn’t talking to Hyrule, was he?

Hyrule turned hesitantly, and saw that Wild was nearly paler than the patient. His eyes were glazed over in that familiar look, that look that the medic knew now to recognize.

Hyrule quickly went to his friend while Warriors and Twilight both held down the patient, who was hurried out of the ED while breathlessly saying all their names over and over and over, his voice growing steadily weaker.

#you ask skye answers #lovely bluevaractyl #lu in healthcare #lu hyrule #do I have a tag for Mo??#lu mo #🤷🏻‍♀️👍🏻#lu wild #abel #writing #guess who’s making a guest appearance?? :D :D :D #Skye time travels through the queue

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mecachrome · 4 months

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extremely 👀👀 about this kind/nice spectrum u brought up and how alex oscar lando and anyone else on the grid are placed on the grid..... would love to know more.........

hi there!!! :D omg yes i would love to talk more about this, though of course disclaimer that these are my Personal Interpretations and i love to spout nonsense on the internet LOL. i'll just expand on oscar + lando + alex some more since frankly i don't know all the other driver lore Like That and i don't want to overstep in my analysis! also i'm deathly afraid of chirlies. ok let's move on

to start off... i think the way we talk about celebrity personas obviously requires some generalization + projection since we can only extrapolate what is already being consciously disseminated, and so although i frequently talk about the kind/nice dichotomy or someone's capacity for sympathy vs. empathy (which is kind of a parallel assessment imo) we are of course all complex people who contain multitudes, and i think it's mostly just interesting to examine strictly in the context of racing & racing mentality... if that makes sense!

also wrt landoscar's personalities → one thing i feel very, VERY strongly about despite their differing surface-level interests and social profiles (read: different flavors of off-track sports, both of them being gamers but to diverging levels of visibility, lando's higher degrees of hyperfixation, etc.) is that at their baseline they are extremely similar people, and honestly even very similar drivers and racing "characters," which ultimately kind of colors most of my analysis. if we peel back the layers then oscar and lando are both functional introverts who've been very well-nurtured by similarly robust, persisting, and loyal support systems—oscar spending 99% of his time off-track with his longtime gf, lando's best mates all being from his karting days, their dads being equally objective about yet also supportive of their careers, jon having trained lando since he was like 5 feet tall, etc.—so to me the overarching difference is that they have diametric approaches to how they externalize their convictions, and then obviously since that's what we see/hear day in & day out it generates the existing rift between their media images. per lando on btg:

"Oscar is extremely down to earth. A bit like me, just a very normal guy who's in Formula 1, just a guy that loves to drive cars and compete against people, and that's it."

(incoming egregious amounts of lando psychoanalysis...) despite oscar being the only driver i truly rep, i've always found lando's psyche soooo fascinating because he invites such extreme emotion in people (be it positive or negative), and i think part of it does go back to the idea of being nice vs. kind and ultimately the lens through which his intentions are interpreted by other people. in real-people fandom this is always interesting since it ends up becoming an unconscious exercise in how we perceive "sincerity" in others, even though the underlying paradoxical truth is obviously that any such assessment must always be dispersed and consolidated via a parasocial system (and thus everything is held relative to our own individual value systems... This is totally not the point of the ask. SORRY FOR THE MILLION TANGENTS) anyway as an extremely disillusioned sports fan i actually have a lot of time for lando despite how much visceral judgment he generates in quite a few people, which is totally fair since everyone is fully privy to feeling however they want to feel about any celebrity and i am not here to convince them otherwise lol. but that's just me!

i think to me the thing about lando is that there is almost zero pretense to his character, which some dislike because they find his bluntness off-putting, but imo just means his intentions are generally straightforward and easily digestible. sure, he lacks the spoken filter to not come off as occasionally callous, but at the end of the day i genuinely believe that he's an inherently thoughtful (and "kind") person, especially within the insular system of professional motorsport and the many mental pitfalls that accompany it. a symptom of this is how willing he is to resist more gracious media responses and how very inwardly critical he can be in specifically self-motivating ways, the latter of which sometimes gets misinterpreted due to the rigid yet overwhelmingly popular framework of what constitutes a competitive racing mentality. but like... to Me, lando is just entirely what you see is what you get, bad parts included, and he has zero intention of making excuses for that or pretending to be anything otherwise. which i enjoy!

and which again also goes back to the idea of niceness. (honestly the tl;dr for most of lando's pr scandals is just Oh okay so it's illegal to be neurodivergent now? but i'm trying to be normal so let me not just say that.) a good example is the entire debacle of saying he felt no sympathy for daniel at mclaren in 2022, because i think it elucidates a sort of kindness in objectivity that he very plainly participates in—to lando, being a top-performing athlete means never searching for excuses to soften the brunt of one's failures, himself included, and equally that there is no point playing sorry in front of journalists or trying to reshape their narrative scrutiny since at the highest level of competition any bold-faced externalization of "sympathy" is really just pity. and what point is there in telling someone else that you Feel Bad for their skill issue/struggles when the moment you extend that sentiment you essentially debase their position as a direct competitor and therefore disrespect them even more?

"I want to be the best in the world, I want to prove myself to people. But I've never had the mentality or the confidence to say that or feel like I need to do anything more than normal to show it to people. Do I have to do anything to go over the top and show that to prove it? I don't think so. People say you've got to be brutal and you've got to have this certain mentality. But I just don't think it's true at all. I think you’ve just got to get in the car and do the best you can."

i think the Separation of Church (treating everyone exactly as they are on-track, just another car to size up or keep at bay) and State (being friendly, supportive, and altogether well-regarded by other drivers off-track) is a primary tenet of lando's personality, and it's something he achieves by valuing kindness over niceness. you know the lando/maxf quadrant interview where lando is like: i'm not friends with you because of your achievements in life... i just care about your personality! and he's mainly saying it to take the piss out of him but he also 100% does mean that shit. that's the crasyinsane part about lando to me... god i'm so sorry i need to not go on for a million years but PERSONALLY, i think lando is very much the type of person who can go through an experience, or otherwise see someone close to him go through an experience, and approach it very empathetically to the point he continues carrying on this internal conviction about it even when he's survived or grown past it. like even as someone who mostly believes in Death to Relatable Marketing, i find it really interesting when lando talks about mental health in sports because we get to see both a) the fact that he's grown so much in his own mental resilience from his rookie self in 2019 to who he is now, but also b) that he continues to believe strongly in rejecting the presumed archetype of a successful formula 1 driver, and is steadfast in surfacing that even though... honestly? lando nowadays is a very consistent, well-rounded, and efficient talent who frankly doesn't experience nearly as much of the unproductive mentally-spiraling self-criticism that used to impact his performances to a far more pronounced degree when he was younger and rough around the edges. yet he still feels compelled to affirm that there is No One way to be an athlete (which is significant because "mentality" is such a harped-on concept in all sports, and everyone is always trying unfailingly to extrapolate performance-related projections via vague and completely subjective intangibles to a notably unempirical degree!!) because he does care, deeply, about how people enter and succeed in motorsport. honestly i always feel kind of iffy bringing up commentary re: Women In Motorsport because it often sounds unnecessarily adulatory, but at least in recent times i think he's also shown a decent amount of grace when talking about female fans, girls in karting, that one time he was like Bruh who are you? @ that misogynistic reporter, which...... i'm not going to say majorly influences my opinion of him, but imo being willing to quickly shut someone down like that is an anti-niceness to a productive end that i appreciate, since i think many personalities would kind of just smile bemusedly and try to quickly move on in the conversation.

tl;dr lando thinks feeling bad for people is useless and will never give you that one tidy sympathetic soundbite, but he does care for people vividly, especially off-track, which to him is the only place kindness really matters anyway. when you look at maxf (and i know this is mainly a portrait of codependency unique to their friendship but i do think it reflects his love languages in general) whose career cratered because he mentally couldn't handle the pressure, lando's response was literally to unfailingly engage in failcore househusband chores for him like leaving handwritten notes in his 3rd grade girl handwriting and ironing his clothes on stream........ which... i could go on forever but again. separation of church and state!!!

anyway with oscar on the other hand, i honestly think most things in his life kind of just exist as a function of motorsport LOL. and that he likes surrounding himself with people of similar interests/intellectual level/skillsets, down to his partner studying engineering and wanting to work in the same industry as him....... again, i think 814's baseline characters are Very similar and that they're both great team players with complementary professional approaches, so this is not a knock on either of their personalities, but imo lando is just generally more outwardly sentimental and has also had to do a lot of conscious growing up in the past ~4 years to become more well-rounded wrt off-track interests, whereas oscar basically came onto the grid as this already fully-realized product with far fewer dependencies who is just nonchalantly like, I see my family 3 weeks a year and my sisters just think i'm their lame older brother and don't care about my career at all, but i'm fine with that and i'd make all the same sacrifices i've made over and over again to get where i am!!! also re: oscar's abject lack of interest in engaging with fans one-on-one, an easy example is how lando genuinely values/treasures the friendship bracelets he gets and wears them consistently whereas oscar is just like. Erm. i respect it but that is not for me ✋😭 he's nice about fan things because he understands how much fan support and consumerist interest enable the circus that is formula 1 but he doesn't really value any of it much past the surface-level pleasantries......

why is this answer so long............... idk if you want to hear anything more about alex but i think he's very similar to oscar in terms of this measured external niceness/quiet ruthlessness, especially wrt how they weather team politics, interact with media (noted red bull marketing hater alex albon), and tend to simply Do The Thing To Do The Thing. alex is especially interesting because if you watch his high performance pod it reveals sooooo much of his growth over the years and his current mental framework ("i was having to be selfless, and it didn't really agree with me that much") and frankly even just the way he speaks about himself is fascinating to me but i digress!!! i do think much of lando's tactless impulse yet also apparent kindness comes from his considerably privileged background and the fact that he was shown a lot of Realistic But Also Unconditional Support and thus never had his career actively threatened growing up. so even though he's had to learn to not mentally catastrophize at the f1 level, he didn't undergo the reckoning alex did with his mother/losing rb's team backing/etc., which alex mentions in this podcast as specifically triggering his insatiable desperation to prove himself.......... and so on. alex and oscar to me are both quite similar in how they let more combative thoughts simmer and are very well-trained in responding palatably to the media, but they're also going to resist relating themselves too much to other people's struggles because That Is Not Their Problem, and at the end of the day oscar is uh.... sure he has a lot of appreciation for mclaren and has called prema a family before, but he really only wants to win for himself and is less inclined than lando is to romanticize the spirit of the Team. and so when he says things like "for me, there’s just not any point, especially in self-deprecation, destroying yourself in front of the media," it's a Niceness because his assessments are always entirely self-absorbed in the most productive of senses, as in he truly only cares about what he himself is doing and is never going to waste time worrying about or comparing himself to his competitors' mental approaches!

does any of this make sense. please excuse the monstrous rambling 😭 but also please feel free to follow up with your own takes/lore about any driver if you'd like to, or to tell me that i'm absolutely wrong if you'd like, because i always love to hear about these things!!! :3c

#ask #i did not mean to psychoanalyze lando like That i'm so sorry...

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danrenouf · 7 months

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Colby always gets new programming for the rookies. Not, like, full-on, complete wipe and reinstall, but tweaks. Patches. Each rookie has distinct needs that require different responses and impulses. He’s used to it by now. It’s not like it hurts, anyway - his pain sensors only register physical damage.

With Sid coming in, though, the process of adjusting his programming is more extensive than usual. This rookie’s in the NHL, for one. Different pressure there versus Wilkes-Barre, or juniors.

He’s in the lab for weeks prior to the start of training camp, though. They don’t power him down while they’re talking about the process, so he knows why he’s been there for so long. Generational talent, they say. Face of the franchise. Other things, too, like. People-pleaser and sensitive kid.

Bots don’t ever get that kind of recognition, of course. It makes sense. The league tightly controls what bots can do on the ice, how well they can perform. Colby doesn’t have feelings about it. They’re a few years away from being able to program feelings. But he can turn data-points over, can prod at them with an approximation of curiosity, of empathy. Assess his own array of reactions to a sensitive kid.

He meets Sid at training camp, and the kid seems about as normal as a rookie can be, at least with the amount of attention he’s getting, which must mean the adjustments they made to Colby’s programming were successful. It’s not difficult to anticipate Sid’s responses or reactions. That comes later.

“There’s no way.” Sid is sprawled on his bed, laughing. Laughter means he’s relaxed and comfortable, which will equate to better rest. Better rest tonight will equate to better performance tomorrow.

Colby tosses the empty water bottle in his hand and catches it. “Sure it is. I’m going to bank this off the corner,” he points to the doorway corner of their cramped hotel room, “then the TV, and into the garbage can.” He’ll have to be very precise with the velocity and spin on the bottle, but there’s a more than sixty-percent probability he can make the shot.

Sid laughs again, getting pink in the face. “Okay, hot shot. Do your worst.”

Colby lingers on Sid’s face for a moment. There’s something there that catches him, makes it hard for him to select the right reaction. He winks, though, and turns around. He makes the shot.

“No fucking way.” Sid gets off the bed, bodies Colby out of the way for his own turn.

Colby leans against the wall and watches Sid evaluate his options. Competitive index. Strong driver of motivations. “You gonna pick something, there? Or are we going to stand here all night?” Friendship index. Strong driver of self-worth.

Sid points to the far corner. “Off the ceiling, off the desk, into the can,” he says. Statistically, the odds are very favorable for making the shot. Ninety-percent or more, as long as Sid doesn’t flub.

“Okay, hot shot.” Colby elbows him, which typically elicits a favorable response. “Do your worst.”

Sid’s focused now. Eyes tracing the path the bottle will take, hand tilting the bottle back and forth. Each brand of water is different, bottles having varying shapes and weights. He throws the bottle. It bounces off the ceiling, off the desk, and into the garbage can. A five degree angle change could have made it all go differently, but as it is, Sid whoops and throws his arms in the air, right in Colby’s face. “Eat that, buddy.”

Colby doesn’t need to eat. He must make a face, because Sid’s laughing at him, now. Sid’s face is very close, and the pink in his cheeks has turned into two deep spots over his cheek bones that would likely be hot to the touch, if Colby put his fingers there.

Sid blinks and starts to lean closer. Colby doesn’t have a reaction, models colliding and breaking. His culture and media database tells him him that there’s a high probability that Sid is going to kiss him, now, the way his eyelids have slipped shut again and he’s leaning up with his face angled at the right way to touch their mouths together.

The kiss is brief. There’s pressure against his mouth, and then the pressure is gone. Sid pulls back and looks at him. “Was that okay?” he asks.

Colby stands there, whirring through possible responses. He wasn’t programmed for this possibility, all of his code flexing to find a solution. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t—”

Sid’s backing away, though, hands pressed to his mouth. “I’m so sorry, Army. I forgot - I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. That’s stupid.” Colby knows how to react to this, how to pull Sid out of distress and back into comfortable territory. “Your breath wasn’t that bad.”

“It won’t happen again, I promise.”

It doesn’t need to not happen again. It was just pressure on his mouth. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t cause damage to his body or his software. “It could, if you wanted to,” Colby says.

Sid stares at him. Colby can’t identify the emotion in his face. “I think we probably shouldn’t.”

“Okay,” Colby says, easy. He throws himself down on his own bed and turns on the TV. “Think Ellen is on right now?”

Sid laughs, though it’s not quite normal. “Guess I’m about to find out.”

It takes Sid longer than usual to fall asleep that night. Anyone else, a human being, would have believed Sid’s performance. Things are never quite the same after that.

for @ticklefighthockey - just a lil variation on a theme

#hockey rpf #sid/colby

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