#pec4dores

[livesaved]

[ TXT ] :   movie's showing tonight at 9,  are you in? (santi)

@pec4dores ; 1-800 ( HIT MY LINE )

[ ✉ : paramedic buddy ] hell yeah i am [ ✉ : paramedic buddy ] i need some distraction after today [ ✉ : paramedic buddy ] you picking me up or am i meeting you there?

[livesaved]

[ TXT ] :   i just want to make sure you know you're not alone. (aj)

@pec4dores ; 1-800 ( HIT MY LINE )

[ ✉ : atty ] i know [ ✉ : atty ] thanks aj [ ✉ : atty ] wanna come over and watch some 'so bad they're good' movies with me?

[livesaved]

[ TXT ] : do you need comfort, to vent, or a solution? (theo)

@pec4dores ; 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝑻𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑵𝑬

[ ✉ : theodore the chipmunk ] honestly [ ✉ : theodore the chipmunk ] i think i need to hit something [ ✉ : theodore the chipmunk ] think we can book a rage room at this time of night?

[whispersoftheveil]

@pec4dores / for ronan as promised hehe

long  nights  and  early  mornings  were  standard  in  adrian's  line  of  work,  as  were  weeks  or  even  months  of  seven-day  weeks,  but  truth  be  told,  he  didn't  mind.  he'd  chosen  this  path  and  embraced  it  fully,  knowing  this  was  what  he'd  wanted  for  as  long  as  he  could  remember.  putting  in  extra  hours  where  needed  never  bothered  him  either,  though  he  appreciated  the  occasional  reprieve  between  projects.

this  one,  however,  came  with  something  he  hadn't  expected.  most  directors  who  approached  him  tended  to  have  a  very  specific  image  in  mind,  one  he  knew  by  heart  at  this  point  and  could  slip  into  with  practiced  ease.  still,  he  welcomed  a  change  of  pace  every  now  and  then.  this  time  around,  he  was  set  to  play  a  musician,  which  went  against  nearly  everything  he  knew.

adrian  had  been  born  with  a  few  talents,  maybe,  but  music  wasn't  one  of  them.  he  couldn't  sing,  had  never  learned  to  play  an  instrument  and  had  absolutely  no  natural  rhythm  when  it  came  to  dancing.  safe  to  say,  he  hadn't  expected  to  land  this  role.  if  anything,  he'd  assumed  someone  with  actual  musical  experience  would  get  it  instead.

and  yet,  here  he  was.

sat  on  his  couch  with  a  man  who  had  been  a  complete  stranger  only  weeks  ago,  a  guitar  resting  awkwardly  in  his  lap  and  fingers  that  refused  to  bend  the  way  they  were  apparently  supposed  to.  somewhere  in  the  next  four  months,  he  was  expected  to  look  convincing  enough  on  screen  that  audiences  would  believe  he'd  spent  years  with  the  instrument  in  his  hands.  at  the  moment,  that  felt  wildly  optimistic.

he  was  determined  to  succeed,  though.  adrian  always  was.  determination,  unfortunately,  didn't  seem  to  make  his  fingers  any  more  cooperative.  he  stumbled  over  the  simplest  exercises,  winced  when  a  string  buzzed  wrong  beneath  his  touch,  and  shot  the  guitar  a  look  as  though  it  had  personally  betrayed  him.

"i  swear  i'm  trying,"  he  said,  glancing  up  from  the  instrument  with  a  crooked,  slightly  sheepish  smile.  "my  hands  just  don't  want  to  listen.  i  think  they're  actively  protesting  this  whole  thing."

[whispersoftheveil]

@pec4dores / for santi as promised

when  life  handed  you  lemons....

thiago  hated  that  saying.  because  when  shit  hit  the  fan,  no  positive  attitude  in  the  world  was  going  to  save  him.  in  fact,  he  was  pretty  sure  a  positive  attitude  had  never  saved  anyone,  ever.  it  was  a  myth  the  unluckiest  people  told  themselves  to  feel  a  little  better  about  their  circumstances.  unfortunately  for  them,  thiago  was  far  too  smart  to  buy  into  that  particular  brand  of  nonsense.

he  knew  no  amount  of  lemonade  was  going  to  save  his  morning  when  he  woke  up  surrounded  by  feet  and  wild  chatter,  his  only  apparent  way  out  seeming  to  involve  scaling  a  wall.  he'd  learned  a  great  many  tricks  over  the  decades  he'd  spent  on  the  streets,  but  flight  was  one  he  hadn't  quite  mastered  yet.

approximately  ten  minutes  and  a  brief  but  spirited  display  of  cannibalistic  tendencies  (he  had  never  had  any  qualms  about  using  his  teeth),  thiago  was  running  for  the  hills  down  the  sidewalk  of  a  busy  street.  blood  trickled  down  his  chin  and  along  the  side  of  his  head,  while  what  little  he  owned  remained  abandoned  in  the  alley  behind  him.  he  remembered  glancing  over  his  shoulder,  cursing  under  his  breath  because  not  only  was  one  of  the  assholes  ridiculously  quick  on  his  feet,  but  the  usually  crowded  street  had  apparently  decided  to  sleep  in  the  one  time  he  actually  needed  witnesses.

after  that,  things  got  a  little  fuzzy.

the  next  thing  he  knew,  he  was  waking  with  a  gasp,  bright  light  stabbing  at  his  eyes  and  the  sharp  scent  of  disinfectant  burning  at  his  nose.  hospital.

shit.

ready  to  get  up  and  get  moving  before  anyone  could  stop  him,  thiago  rolled  onto  his  side  with  a  low  groan.  one  bandaged  hand  immediately  shot  to  his  head,  fingertips  brushing  against  more  gauze  wrapped  around  his  temple.

double  shit.

that  was  going  to  make  escaping  significantly  more  difficult.

still,  he  swung  his  legs  over  the  side  of  the  bed  and  pushed  himself  upright.  the  room  tilted  unpleasantly  for  a  second,  his  stomach  protesting  the  movement.  one  foot  touched  the  floor.

then  the  doorknob  turned.

great.

[pittlearned]

@pec4dores ; random one-liner! (for santi!!!)

❝ you shouldn't sneak up on people like that. ❞

[drwlf]

RANDOM ALL-OUT PARTY PROMPTS

@pec4dores / AJ: "Don't look at me like that unless you're pouring another shot."

"Jesus--okay, master."

I roll my eyes at the demand, half a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth as I pour him another shot of tequila. I'd already told the bartender to leave the bottle with us—surely two well-paid doctors can afford it, can't they?

"Hard day down in the ER, I assume?"

No judgment there, since I'm filling my own glass and could wholeheartedly agree, from my more comfortable position in the Neurology department.

[pittresilience]

@pec4dores liked for a starter

The exam room curtain slides open with a soft scrape before Jack steps inside, tablet balanced loosely in one hand while he scans over the chart. The ER noise follows him in briefly—distant monitor alarms, overhead pages, somebody arguing with triage somewhere down the hall—before the curtain falls shut again behind him.

“Alright,” Jack says tiredly, finally looking up toward the patient. “I’m Dr. Abbot.” His voice is rough around the edges in the way that suggests he’s several hours and at least two coffees past exhaustion, but his attention settles fully here now anyway. He sets the tablet down against the counter before stepping closer to the bedside.

“So,” he says, posture relaxing slightly as he studies Elias properly for the first time, “what happened tonight?”