#emergency blanket

[aceofwhump]

No. 15 Alternate: Emergency Blanket

9-1-1 Lone Star 2x12 | Jericho 1x14 | Station 19 1x03 | Sherlock BBC 1x01 | The Blacklist 2x06 | Forever 1x11 | The Mentalist 6x11 | Farscape 2x10 | Prodigal Son 2x03 | Castle 3x17 | The Day After Tomorrow | Hawaii Five-0 10x07

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[minimavisibilia]

Pamela Rosenkranz Express Nothing (Believe) 2015 Acrylic paint, emergency blanket 159 x 210 cm (62.625 x 82.75 in.)

[lgbtqlegends]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

hey y'all!! i'm back with day 18 of whumptober!! (day 16 + 17 were written for NCIS: LA). I know it's been a while since I've written/posted any fics (a long few months), but hopefully I'll be back to writing and posting more regularly now! oh how I've missed it. anyways, I hope y'all enjoy!!

Summary:

No. 18: Let's Break The Ice

Prompts: Treading Water / "Take my coat" / Emergency Blanket (alt prompt)

In which Sara is thrown into freezing, icy cold waters in the dead of winter. Ava jumps in after her to pull her out and keep her warm at all costs.

[worldofwhumpcraft]

Emergency Contact

Whumptober 2022 Masterlist once again, a bit softer but has whumpy aftermath and recovery. And who doesn't love some heroxvillain angst?

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Hero.”

Hero’s blood ran cold. “Villain. What are you doing?”

“Hero I need.. *cough* I need help. They left me in here. The place is on fire, I—I’m scared.”

“Stop talking. I’m on my way.”

By the time hero got therer, three buildings were on fire and there was a whole squad of fire trucks.

Hero rushed up the stairs “Villain!” They shouted, coughing through the smoke. She was crumpled on the floor, one dark arm reaching out in front of her. She had been crawling to the door. Worse, there was a thin trail of blood on the floor.

A burst of flame exploded behind them, heat scorching Hero’s back. Without a second thought, they scooped up Villain and slung her over their firm shoulders. She whimpered and pressed closer. Hero ran down the stairs just as the building walls collapsed. It was raining outside, frizzing hero’s tight curls.

Quickly, hero set villain down safely, then grabbed a first aid kit from their car.

“Are you okay? Villain, can you hear me?”

She didn’t move. For one terrifying moment, Hero worried that she wasnt breathing.

Then her black eyes shot open. She lurched forward, crying out and coughing.

“D-dont-- don’t hurt me--”

“Villain?”

“I didn’t mean to, I swear!” She pulled away from hero’s touch, her olive-brown face twisted with fear.

“Hey, Villain you’re okay, you’re safe.”

Villain shook her head absently. Clearly she hadn’t become fully cognizant. Hero rushed over to one of the fire engines and pulled out a medical weighted blanket.

“Here, put this on,” they said, reaching around Villain’s shoulders. They saw some bruises around her neck. They looked fresh.

Had another villain been here beforehand? Or one of the rowdy sidekicks? It couldn’t have been one of their own, right?

“H-hero? You actually came…”

“Hey, had a bit of a knock there, didn’t you?”

Villain shivered, crossing the blanket in front of themselves. “I didn’t really think you’d come.”

Hero shuffled on their feet. They didn’t want to look into it. They saved people. That was their job. Villain was in danger and had needing saving. She was still shaking under the blanket and there was a hunted look in her eyes. Villain wasn’t the type to get shook up over nothing.

She’d said on the phone that someone had left her in there. This was intentional, malicious. But who’d done it?

Not the time for these questions, Hero thought, reaching over and tucking the medical blanket around Villain’s shoulders. She regarded hero with confusion but accepted it nonetheless.

“Why would you do that? I know all you heroes hate me.”

Definitely not because their heart had twisted when they heard villain begging for help on the other end of the line. That they had felt there was no one else to turn to. Hero shrugged, tucking the blanket around Villain’s shoulders.

“It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“You haven’t won by doing this,” she coughed, “I’m not going onto your side or anything.”

Hero smirked. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Let’s get you patched up.” ~*~*~ Whumptober no 11: 911, what's your emergency? theme fill AND Alt prompts: 12. Carried to Safety | 14. Emergency Blanket

taglist: @aseasonwithclaraold

[beardedbastardoutdoors]

Top 10 Types of Survival Shelters to Consider When Building in the Wilderness

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[professor-rye]

Day 9: Dazed and Confused

Title: A Very Silent Night Characters: Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss Rating: Mature Set: Modern AU Tags: Dazed and Confused, Emergency Blanket, Car Crash, Broken Bones, Head Trauma, First Aid, Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 7,324

Now, Caleb was being lulled to sleep, between the gentle hum of the vehicle and the warmth of the cab. He leaned his head against the window, feeling the cool glass against his skin as the podcast droned on. His eyes grew heavier, and eventually, he decided not to fight it any longer. Honestly, he could use the rest before seeing their friends again. Just a short little nap. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sleeping when suddenly, he was jolted awake as their tires squealed and he was thrown forward against the dash. He barely recognized the impact before he was unconscious once more.

Check out more of our Whumptober Collaboration here!

[set-phasers-to-whump]

emergency blanket

prompt: emergency blanket (alt no.14)

whumpee: sakari nurmi

fandom: karppi/deadwind

hi this fic is a little different from other stuff in an undefined kinda way...it's set pre-series by a few years at a time in which i imagine sakari has recently moved to helsinki and doesn't work with the police. i enjoyed messing around with this but it is a bit different to my usual stuff idk. hope you like it anyway!

He’s ripped violently out of a deep sleep by the sound of an explosion. The building shakes. Things rattle. Plaster is falling from the ceiling. He knows this because it’s falling on him. 

He leaps out of bed, heart pounding. He knows perfectly well what to do in the event of an explosion, but he’s never actually had to act before - it was always just drills and being ready, but he’d escaped any actual explosions. 

Until now. Plaster is still raining down from the ceiling, which means he should get under a table, but he lives on the third floor. If the floor collapses, the table isn’t going to do him much good. 

He needs to get out. 

He slowly walks across the room and to the door. The floor creaks underneath him but holds steady. The fire alarms - those that work, anyway - are ringing. People are screaming. He feels the door, which isn’t hot, then opens it. 

He’s met with chaos. People are pushing down the hallway towards the stairs and only one of the lightbulbs in the ceiling is working so it’s sort of dark but the fire alarm is flashing and there’s debris scattered over the floor and at the other end of the hall there’s just a hole where there should be a floor. 

He joins his neighbors in the journey to the stairwell and has the brief thought that he should have put on shoes, or a jacket. Once he gets outside, he’s going to be freezing. 

At least you’ll be alive, he reminds himself. This thought is punctuated by a loud crashing noise behind him. Everyone collectively turns around. Something unidentifiable but very much on fire has fallen through the ceiling. People start screaming again, assuming they ever stopped. He nearly gets knocked to the ground as everyone suddenly starts shoving wildly in a now truly desperate attempt to get to the stairs. 

The heat of the fire is steadily growing, though it’s still a good distance away down the hall. Eventually, Sakari makes it into the stairwell. It’s crowded with people coming down from higher floors, but someone grabs his arm and pulls him into the throng and then he’s moving down, down, down, surrounded by people in various states of undress. Some of them are bleeding, burned. He guesses the explosion happened on an upper floor. 

The procession downwards is slow-going, but it is going. He makes it to the second floor, where a few more people push into the group. He supposes most of the people from this floor have already made it down. 

Finally, the exit is in sight. It’s a door marked ‘fire exit, use only in case of emergency.’ It’s been propped open and there’s a blinking light above it. Outside he can hear sirens mixing with the echo of the fire alarm. 

He steps outside. The sidewalk is cold beneath his bare feet, but at least it isn’t snowing. He moves along with a crowd of people. He has no idea where they’re going besides away, which is more than good enough for him. 

He turns back briefly and looks at the building. Part of it, starting on the fifth floor and extending down through the third, is simply gone. Flames lick out of the gaping hole where this part of the building used to be. Here and there he can see fires behind windows, smoke rising into the dark sky. As he looks, part of the fourth floor breaks free from the building and crashes to the ground. People scream. Someone runs into him from behind and he nearly loses his balance. 

“Hey, keep moving!”

He turns away from the horrible scene and keeps walking. At last he figures out what everyone has been walking towards: there’s a barrier being set up by police, who are shouting for people to get behind it. He passes the barrier, at which point the people around him begin to disperse. Some of those who are bleeding are being treated by paramedics. Groups of people huddle together, calling out for people they’ve gotten separated from. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t have anyone here to join, doesn’t really know his neighbors. He’s not hurt, either, so he can’t go to the medics. Can he just leave? He feels like he can’t. And anyway, where would he go? His car’s broken. He doesn’t have shoes on. He’s kind of trapped. 

He briefly wonders whether any of his things will be salvageable. Whether the firefighters will extinguish the flames before they reach his apartment. He hopes so. He doesn’t have a lot of stuff, and what little he does have is all in there. 

But there’s nothing he can do about that. He forces his thoughts away from his apartment and decides to just walk around. After a few minutes of this aimless walking, he comes to the conclusion that the best thing to do is to simply sit down. 

He finds an empty section of the curb that has a view of the activity and sinks down. On his right is a mailbox, and on his left is a family with two small children. Neither one of them is crying, but their mother is. Something twists inside him. He stands back up, not willing to intrude. 

He walks around a bit more. Tents are being set up next to ambulances, and people are gathering under them, he supposes for medical treatment. There is one tent that has sides as well as a roof. He stares at it and wonders how many people have died. Wonders what exactly had happened. 

He finds himself walking over towards the tents without really thinking about it. He looks in on the scenes beneath them, half imagining that he’ll see someone he knows, but everyone is a stranger. 

“Hey!” someone shouts. He’s been hearing people shout “hey!” for however long it’s been (and really, he realizes, he has absolutely no idea whether it’s been seconds or hours), and only one of those shouts had been directed at him. He isn’t doing anything wrong, to his knowledge, so he figures whoever’s shouting isn’t shouting at him. 

“Hey, come here!” the person shouts again. He looks around, curious to see what’s happening, and makes eye contact with a paramedic. He figures she’ll just wave him along, but instead she nods and calls, “come here!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

He looks down at himself, suddenly wondering whether he’s somehow been bleeding this whole time and had failed to notice. But he’s fine, he thinks. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks, approaching the paramedic. 

“You’re shaking.”

He is? He hadn’t noticed. Now, though, he does. He’s cold. Really cold. And afraid, he realizes, even though the most imminent danger has already passed. 

He exhales sharply. His chest feels tight. He wraps his arms around himself as this whole barrage of previously-unrecognized sensations suddenly hits him all at once. 

Something touches him. He jolts in surprise, and the paramedic gently puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s only a blanket.”

It is a blanket. One of those silvery, reflective ones. He’s seen them a few times before, though he’s never actually had one to himself. He had always assumed that people had been stretching the truth, calling the things thermal blankets when to him they had resembled nothing so much as sheets of tinfoil. 

To his surprise, however, the blanket really is quite warm. He pulls it tightly around himself, tucking his arms in underneath it and holding onto it as though it might be taken away from him at any second. 

And then the paramedic gives him another blanket. This one is more normal. It’s thick and not terribly soft but it’s warm, too, and actually feels like a blanket. He draws this one tightly around his body as well, burrowing into the warmth of the layered blankets as much as possible.

“Please come find me or someone else if you don’t stop shivering soon,” the paramedic tells him, and he nods and watches her hurry off to help another paramedic with a man whose whole torso is covered in blood. 

Still shivering and overwhelmed, Sakari again finds himself a place to sit, this time beneath the tent, near the back of an open ambulance. 

The ground is frigid beneath him, and even when he adjusts the blankets so he can sit on them, he can still feel it. He tucks himself into as tight a ball as he can manage and wraps the blankets around himself again, trying especially hard to cover both his feet and his arms. Again he wishes that he had brought his shoes, or that at least he had gone to bed wearing socks. 

But he hadn’t, and now he’s here, sitting on the freezing, hard ground and shaking so hard he almost feels sick. He tries to focus on getting warm, tries not to think about the explosion. Tries not to imagine getting caught in the flames, trapped by the rubble. He’s lucky, he supposes. Bad things always seem to happen to the people around him, and not to him. 

It doesn’t feel like luck. It feels like a horrible mixture of fear and guilt squeezing him from the inside out. He pulls the blankets still tighter around his body and wonders if the shaking will ever stop.

thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed this even though it was a bit weird. i just love exploring his backstory and making shit up :) see you tomorrow!!

[faofinn]

No. 23 EMERGENCY BLANKET (Alt. 14)

@whumptober

@whumptober-archive

As uni became more and more stressful and full on, Fao relished his time on the rugby pitch. He could forget about the stresses for a while, and focus on his team and the game. It stopped him getting too into his head, which helped. They were prepping once more for the Challenge Cup, and things were heating up. Fao’s penultimate year, it was really starting to mean stuff. He was the new captain, too, and that meant he was really staking his reputation. 

They had a friendly game that week, and Fao was looking forwards to it. Sheila had said she was coming down to watch, and he always enjoyed playing when she was watching. It always made him push to play his best, too. Not that he didn’t try anyway, but having someone in the crowds rooting for him? It was still a bit of a weird feeling, despite it being more than four years since they’d adopted him. 

The team had played really well in the first half, and after an all to brief half time chat, they were back on the pitch. It had started to rain, of course, so they were quickly soaked to the skin as well as covered in mud, but it was good fun all the same. Fao loved it, thrived on it, shouting to his team and trying to score again. 

Things were getting a little snippy, some of his team’s tempers frayed with a couple of fouls from the other team that had gone unpenalised. A year ago, that would’ve been Fao, swearing and threatening to do worse, but now he knew better. They’d just scored again, Fao throwing himself over the line. Still high on the adrenaline from that try, and the subsequent conversion, he was playing arrogantly. He knew it, but he didn’t care enough to stop it. 

Until he got possession again, and one of the other team came at him with an illegal high tackle. His arms around Fao’s shoulders and neck, Fao’s head collided with his shoulder and he was out cold before he hit the floor. 

Play was stopped immediately, the player who’d tackled Fao given an immediate red card and told under no uncertain terms to go back to the changing rooms. A couple of Fao’s teammates crowded around him, immediately worried and calling for a medic. They were all healthcare students, of course, but there wasn’t much they could do without kit. It didn’t look good, though, Fao having taken a significant impact. He was still breathing, thankfully, though it looked like he’d busted his collarbone yet again. That was the least of their worries, though, as he was still completely out. 

They were looking around for Sheila worriedly, knowing full well she was there. She was always there, of course she’d be there. Fao would need her, that was sure. 

“Someone find Sheila, let her come down.” One of the boys said. She’d be on her way, surely. She would’ve seen him go down, she’d be fighting through people to get to them. It would be much easier to let her down, so she could be with him. 

The medics fussed, quickly taking obs and trying to get the situation under control. It didn’t exactly look good; high tackles were dangerous. 

They were only halfway through their assessments when Sheila pushed through, having fought off security and the other team. A well practiced glare had had them scarpering, and she'd had to hold her tongue as she caught sight of the idiot that had caused it all. 

There was a flare of panic, flashbacks she'd rather not have. "He's breathing, right? "

Matt looked over at Sheila, his attention pulled from where he’d been listening to the medics. “Sheila. Yeah, he’s breathing.”

"Still not come round?"

“Not yet, but he took a significant hit.”

"I saw." She swallowed thickly, moving closer to Fao, gently taking his hand. "You're alright, you're gonna be okay."

It wasn’t too much longer before Fao started to come round, groaning and struggling against the hands all over him. 

"Fao, sweetheart, just relax. You're okay. I'm here, just relax." She murmured, softly stroking his cheek. "You're okay."

He frowned, struggling to get his eyes to focus. He could hear Sheila, he thought, but everyone was still touching him, and he hated it. He tried batting uncoordinatedly at them, but pain lanced across his shoulder as he moved it, and he cried out. 

"Scíth a ligean, tá tú ceart go leor, ach breathe." She stumbled over the gaelic, trying to calm him before he hurt himself further. 

He settled a little, realising it was Sheila. Everything hurt, and he was cold. Really cold. It was still raining, and he was soaked to the skin. He realised then he was shivering, and he couldn’t stop it. His eyes finally focused on Sheila and he whined, disoriented and in pain. 

"Hey. It's okay." She forced a smile. "Can we get him some more blankets? He's frozen and he's only going to get cooler. I've got spare coats in the car, can someone go and get them?"

"Fao? Can you talk to us?"

The second voice confused Fao - he could only see Sheila. His eyes flicked around, looking for who had spoken, but he couldn’t see them properly. “Help?” 

The medic leaned over him slightly. "We're trying to help you, we're just waiting for the ambulance, they won't be long. I need you to stay nice and still for me, okay? Can you tell me where hurts?"

He thought about it for a minute. “Everywhere?”

"Okay. Do you feel sick? Dizzy?"

He certainly didn’t feel right. He wasn’t sure if the nausea was from the shivering or not, and it was definitely difficult to stay focused. Everything was… hazy. “Yeah.” He said finally. 

Matt had disappeared off to Sheila’s car to grab the coats, and had managed to find another blanket, too, which he handed to the other medic. 

"Here, we'll get you a bit warmer. Probably better than our space blankets."

“Mm. Hurts.” Fao whined. 

"Paramedics will be here soon."

He was still shivering despite the extra blankets, unable to get warm. It was still a struggle to focus, everything hazy, and he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to help.

"Fao?" Sheila murmured. "Stay awake for us."

“Am awake. But dizzy.”

"It's hard, I know." The medic soothed. "But your mum's right. We need you to stay awake."

“The dizzy is better if I close my eyes.”

"Okay, can you talk to us then?"

“What about?” Fao grumbled.

"Anything you want."

“M cold.”

"We've given you all the blankets."

Fao could feel the cold mud soaking into the back of his shirt. “Mum?”

"I'm right here."

“Are you mad at me?”

"Of course not." She murmured. "Of course not."

“‘M sorry.”

"Don't be sorry. I could kill him for you, there was no need for that."

Fao frowned. “I don’t remember.”

"That's okay. You hit your head pretty hard." She soothed.

“What happened?”

"Bad tackle."

“Oh.” He struggled to take a deep breath. “Can I go home now?”

"Think we're gonna have to go to hospital, sweetheart.'

“No, jus’ help me up and I’ll go home.”

"Your mum's right, Fao. We're just waiting for the ambulance."

“Jus’ need a lift home.”

"The ambulance can give us a lift." Sheila said. 

Fao narrowed his eyes. “No ambulance.”

Fao didn’t have much of a say in the matter, though, as the Ambulance arrived soon after. He was cold and in pain, and it was really hard to stay awake. They kept telling him to talk to them, but it was hard. Didn’t they know it was hard?

Sheila was beside herself with worry, gripping Fao's hand tight. It stirred up more emotions and memories she didn't want to deal with, but she had to be there for Fao.

Fao had been okay until the paramedic crew started their assessment, their hands all over him, pressing uncomfortably and causing more pain. 

“Fuck off, get off!” He protested, getting agitated and frustrated. “Get off! Get off!”

"Fao, Fao, please." She tried, her heart breaking. "Just relax, they're just helping, just breathe."

“It hurts, fuck off!”

"Faolan, stop. Relax." She said firmly. 

"We're nearly done, pal. We'll be on our way soon."

“Please.” He whined, his voice cracking as he struggled to breathe. 

"You're okay. We're not doing it to hurt you, we just need to get you nice and safe so we can move."

Fao’s pleading turned into sobbing, heedless of the other people around him. “P-please.”

"Fao, sweetheart, it's alright." 

“Hurts.” Fao said, panic rising. He was getting more dizzy now, felt more and more out of control. He was scared he was going to pass out, trembling. 

"I know it hurts, darling. I know, I'm sorry. Just hold on, we'll be okay."

The nausea was rising, alongside the pain, and Fao realised quite abruptly that he was going to be sick. “Gonna be sick.” He said quickly, panic in his voice. 

They moved quickly, rolling him onto his side. The antiemetics obviously hadn't worked, and vomiting after his head injury wasn't a good sign. Sheila was all too aware of it, turning away for a moment and trying to catch her breath through the rising panic.

He groaned as he was sick, the roll onto his side just making the dizziness that much worse. He tried to catch his breath, whimpering. 

They did their best to keep him comfortable as they rolled him onto their board and loaded him onto the ambulance, still shivering under the endless blankets they’d given him. There was foil blankets layered under the thick ones from Sheila’s car, and yet it still wasn’t enough. 

Fao’s head spun as they settled him inside. At least it was warmer, though he was still cold. He gripped Sheila’s hand tightly as they fussed, though he could feel himself slipping. He didn’t want to pass out, but it was beginning to feel inevitable, his vision blurring into black.