Just-random-imagines - Just Random Imagine

HOW TO SURVIVE A HEART ATTACK WHEN ALONE Let’s say it’s 6.15pm and you’re going home (alone of course), after an unusually hard day on the job. You’re really tired, upset and frustrated. Suddenly you start experiencing severe pain in your chest that starts to drag out into your arm and up into your jaw. You are only about five miles from the hospital nearest your home. Unfortunately you don’t know if you’ll be able to make it that far. You have been trained in CPR, but the guy that taught the course did not tell you how to perform it on yourself..!! NOW HOW TO SURVIVE A HEART ATTACK WHEN ALONE… Since many people are alone when they suffer a heart attack, without help, the person whose heart is beating improperly and who begins to feel faint, has only about 10 seconds left before losing consciousness. However, these victims can help themselves by coughing repeatedly and very vigorously. A deep breath should be taken before each cough, and the cough must be deep and prolonged, as when producing sputum from deep inside the chest. A breath and a cough must be repeated about every two seconds without let-up until help arrives, or until the heart is felt to be beating normally again. Deep breaths get oxygen into the lungs and coughing movements squeeze the heart and keep the blood circulating. The squeezing pressure on the heart also helps it regain normal rhythm. In this way, heart attack victims can perhaps buy precious time to get themselves to a phone and dial 911. Rather than sharing another joke please contribute by broadcasting this which can save a person’s life! Be prepared and become part of the solution. Get your free next-of-kin notification card today. Click here: https://www.InCaseOfEmergencyCard.com/

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

Like Music?

IMAGINE: You’re fairly new to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and thanks to past circumstances, you haven’t experienced much as other teenagers have. A certain speedster takes it in his own hands to solve your problem. WORD COUNT: 1,199 WARNINGS: N/A

The music washes over you as you start to dance. The crowd isn't wild as usual, but there's enough spark to start a wildfire. The lead vocalist leans into the microphone, belting out the next lyrics.

A singer in a smokey room. The smell of wine and cheap perfume. For a smile they can share the night, it goes on and on and on and on.

Cheering them on like the rest of the crowd, you continue to sway to the beat until someone grabs your waist.

"Having fun yet?" The owner of the arms asks you, their warm breath hitting your ear.

"Yeah, thanks for getting me out of that house," you reply, grabbing the hands.

Their palms are relatively soft, unlike the fingers which are rough at the tips.

"No problem Y/N."

You're turned around. Chocolate brown eyes stare down at you, full of warmth and pride.

"I knew you'd like it here."

A Few Hours Earlier

"So how are you able to control it?" You ask Hank as he leads you to the Blackbird.

"Awhile back, I designed a serum that briefly treats my genes. When it does that, it allows me to revert to my 'normal' form."

"That's amazing!" You exclaim.

Hank shrugs as if to say 'no big deal' before showing you a half-built plane frame.

"So, what do you need help with?" He points out to various spots and starts to explain the process.

"The jets need to be bolted; the previous ones weren't strong enough."

"The mainframe sitting on the processor over there needs to be re-tuned."

"See that wing? There's a certain section that must be welded up."

Already grabbing a few tools for the job, you're interrupted by a small 'whoosh'.

"Hey McCoy, what'cha doing?" You don't turn around, being too busy in gathering your needed equipment.

"Just showing our new engineer trainee the ropes."

After getting everything strapped to your vest, you turn around and face Hank, who stands by himself. "Wasn't someone just talking to you?"

Another 'whoosh' sounds this time right beside you. You quickly look to your right where a silver-haired man stands, sporting odd gear. Goggles sit on his forehead while clipped earbuds hang around his neck, connected to a SONY Walkman strapped to his belt.

"Yeah, that's me. You look very nice, why haven't we me before? I'm Peter Maximoff but guys around here call me Quicksilver. What's your name?"

He speaks so quickly; you have to ask him to repeat it. When you can properly hear him, you offer a hand.

"Nice to meet you... Quicksilver? I'll have to stick with Peter. I'm Y/N."

Peter smiles at the way you respond to him shyly but doesn't bring it up. "You new here? Never seen you around."

You explain how Charles stumbled upon you about a month ago and offered you a place at the school. You moved in only two weeks back. Hank had recently found about your knack with mechanical devices and technical skills.

Peter watches you the whole time you speak, listening carefully to everything you say. Once you're finished, he asks a random question.

"Have you ever gone to a concert Y/N?"

"No. Never had the time."

He scrunches his brown eyebrows in confusion before shaking his head. "You have really never gone to a concert before?" He looks you up and down, smirking broadly once he does.

"That won't do."

In seconds, you feel all the excess weight from the power tools gone. They're quick to reappear in a small pile at Hank's feet. Peter, out of nowhere, stands by your side.

"Sorry Hank," he starts, already slipping on his goggles. "Your little class with Y/N will have to be postponed. I am going to take her to have the time of her life."

Scrunching your nose up in confusion, you look at him. "Really?"

"Yes." He replies. His hand reaches for the back of your head as you speak.

"And how are you-"

Everything rushes past as Peter grabs your head and starts running. Next thing you know, you're standing in your dormitory.

"-Gonna do that?"

Peter knowingly grabs a small trashcan from the corner of the room and hands it to you. Quickly spitting up the little breakfast you had, you glare daggers at the speedster.

"Give me a bit of a warning next time."

"Oh, I will," he responds playfully. One second he's gone, but quickly returns the next with a small pile of clothes in his arms.

"Put this on," Peter says before tossing them at your face. Catching them with ease, you eye them curiously.

"What's wrong with what I have on now?"

"It's nice but you might want to be a bit more comfortable where we're going."

Agreeing to his terms, the fellow mutant waits patiently as you change, leaving the room while you do like a gentleman. Once you've finished, you call him back in.

"You have nice taste, Peter." You compliment, looking over your clothes in the mirror.

"Nah, you just make it look good."

Fixing your shirt, you dare to ask Peter where you were going in order to hide your embarrassment.

"Have you ever heard of Journey?"

"The band?" You question. "A little. I don't listen to music so their songs are a mystery to me."

"I am trying to develop an interest in you Y/N. Are you trying to turn me off or something?"

This boy was definitely not going to make things easy for you. Feeling your cheeks reddening, you turn to Peter.

"I'm sorry. I don't usually have time to listen to music."

"Well, we're going to change that." He grabs your head once more before rushing off.

Several hundred miles later, the two of you stand on a grassy lawn, surrounded by a scattered amount of fellow teenagers and middle-aged adults, all in ripped clothing. A large stage is settled nearby where a crew sets up sound equipment.

"And now we wait."

-

And so, you did. As the band readied themselves for a performance, you and Peter got to know each other better. He had a twin sister named Wanda and along with his mother, they lived in a house full of stolen goods. He then adds how he once had broken into the pentagon and freed the man who supposedly killed JFK.

With every passing minute you talked, you feel more and more intrigued by him. It was nice, having a guy your own age to hang out with who actually let loose.

Then the lights dimmed down as the music started to pour out of the large speakers. It hit you like a tidal wave and you immediately fell in love with it. You started dancing and laughing, something you rarely did anymore.

As they started to play another song, you allow Peter to hold you from behind.

"This is nice," you tell him, swaying from side to side. "I never thought myself to be a rock kind of person."

You look up to Peter who gazes down at you with affection.

"We never think ourselves to be a lot of things but we're still here."

Things were really looking good now.

Coming to you soon...

Daydreaming about my book:

Writing my book:

Ah, I'm so glad you liked it! I was nervous that he was going to come off a little overbearing but I'm very grateful the idea got across. 😁

Nervous Little Thing

IMAGINE: Tim’s been through a lot during his time at NCIS. He’s been stabbed, shot at, attacked by a dog, even almost got blown up a few times. Safe to say, he can get a little paranoid at times. All it takes is a little reminder that the two of you are perfectly ok. WORD COUNT: 572 WARNINGS: Not gonna lie, Tim might sound like a psychopath at one point. Author’s Note: Had a little writer’s block but I decided to release another sappy feel-good piece. Hope y’all like it!

He sat nervously at his desk, constantly looking over his shoulder as if you would magically appear out of nowhere. Usually he’d be in bed by now reading a book but that’s when you’d be next to him, snoring away like a NASCAR engine.

It wasn’t normal for you to come home this late. Tim was used to coming home to you playing some of his video games wearing one of his baggy MIT shirts.

Imagine his surprise when he walked in at around 7:02, an hour after he was supposed to clock out of work, you were nowhere to be found.

“Don’t freak out,” mumbled Tim, sparing a single glance at his watch. The hands that read 9:47 seemed to taunt him as they slowly marched along the face.

There had to be a reasonable explanation why you weren’t back yet. There was a reason why you hadn’t texted him at all today warning him you would be late coming home. There was a reason you weren’t back and he hadn’t heard at all from you.

Keep reading

Content

IMAGINE: On nights like these, private NCIS agent Gibbs would rather be down in his basement working on a project. He wasn’t one to go out to bars or spend all night playing some game online like his coworkers. Tonight, however, thanks to a bit of liquid courage, you show him another way to enjoy the night. WORD COUNT: 767 WARNINGS: Fluff with our favorite hard ass agent, mentions of heavy alcohol intake

Gibbs can’t think of the last time he felt this content. There were moments he’d prefer to hide in his dimly lit basement; working on his projects and sipping on his bourbon.

This time he was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter sipping on tepid coffee he found lying around. It would’ve been a shame to let it go to waste. 

Unfamiliar music played softly in the background, tempting him to shut it off, to enjoy the silence. But from past experience, Gibbs knew that if even tried shutting it off, he wouldn’t live to see tomorrow. Instead, he settled for enjoying his rapidly cooling caffeine boost, successfully hiding his grin behind his mug.

There weren’t many things that could convince him to ignore urges like that; his coworkers could count on one hand what could.  

“Are you just going to stand there all night or are you going to join me?” You teased from across the room, slowly swaying along to the music. 

Not even Tony would ever guess that his stone-faced boss would ever be put in his place by a lover. 

“I’m fine with just enjoying the show,” Gibbs replied. 

“You’re no fun, Jethro,” you pouted. Before he could say anything, you swiped up your own mug from the kitchen table, loudly drinking down the contents. You pulled away with a whine, signaling you finished it sooner than you liked. 

“Is that from that bottle Tobias tried bribing me with?” Your boyfriend questioned. “I thought he knew better than that.” 

He pointed to the dark bottle left on the table, squinting to see how much was left in it. 

“Honey.” It wasn’t often that Jethro used pet names, so this sudden use caught you off guard. “That damn thing is almost empty, I think you’ve had enough.”

Maybe that was true. On your second glass, you had spilled some wine on your shirt, prompting you to replace it with one of the oversized navy sweatshirts Jethro kept around. He had yet to comment about you stealing his shirt, but based on his smirk, he didn’t mind. 

“Finish it with me then,” you pleaded. 

“I’ll stick with my joe,” he assured, lifting his mug to prove it.  

Rolling your eyes, you reach for the wine bottle, almost knocking it off the table. It didn’t click in your head how fast Jethro moved; first, he was next to the fridge and now he was by your side holding the bottle you had almost knocked to the floor. 

“Thank you for proving my point,” he grumbled, begrudgingly pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking around for a stopper. 

“I was gonna put it away,” you grumbled back. 

You paid no mind to Jethro’s complaints, choosing instead to slide across the kitchen floor in time with the music. Your sock covered feet drifted smoothly against the linoleum tiling, sending you into the counter that your boyfriend previously occupied. Unfazed by the crash, you gracefully take a seat on said counter, ignoring the fact you almost fell over attempting to do so. 

“Don’t go too crazy there, I’d rather have you in one piece,” Jethro chided. He kept an eye on you as he stuck the bottle in the fridge. Before he could even shut the door properly, you started tugging on his shirt, silently begging him to come closer. 

“What are you doing, huh?” He asked. 

“I wanna dance,” you mumbled. 

“You want to dance?” Jethro repeated. He didn’t bother hiding back a smile this time as he watched you thumb the buttons on his collar. “May I remind you you’re pretty drunk at the moment? Do you think you’re up for the job?” 

Eager to prove him wrong, you hop down from the counter (With Gibbs subtly steadying you) and pull him close. 

“Oh, this means you want to dance with me?” He asked cheekily.  

At this point the music became a softer tune, encouraging Jethro to join you. What else could he do but oblige? 

The two of you began to sway, holding each other close. Neither of you spoke, choosing to simply lean into the other and enjoy the moment. 

Gibbs couldn’t think of the last time he felt this content. Having you here in his arms, not having to worry about Tony and Ziva bickering like children or Timothy getting picked on by said agents. He could just relax in the privacy of his own home with you. 

“Thank you,” he whispered in your ear. 

“For what?” You drowsily teased, feeling the effects of the alcohol slowing hitting you. 

“For being you.” 

Blame this guy named tony for this ok😭

I've listened to a few of these tips, please take care of yourselves

depression tips™

shower. not a bath, a shower. use water as hot or cold as u like. u dont even need to wash. just get in under the water and let it run over you for a while. sit on the floor if you gotta.

moisturize everything. use whatever lotion u like. unscented? dollar store lotion? fancy ass 48 hour lotion that makes u smell like a field of wildflowers? use whatever you want, and use it all over. 

put on clean, comfortable clothes. 

put on ur favorite underwear. cute black lacy panties? those ridiculous boxers u bought last christmas with candy cane hearts on the butt? put em on.

drink cold water. use ice. if u want, add some mint or lemon for an extra boost.

clean something. doesn’t have to be anything big. organize one drawer of ur desk. wash five dirty dishes. do a load of laundry. scrub the bathroom sink. 

blast music. listen to something upbeat and dancey and loud, something that’s got lots of energy. sing to it, dance to it, even if you suck at both.

make food. don’t just grab a granola bar to munch. take the time and make food. even if it’s ramen. add something special to it, like a hard boiled egg or some veggies. prepare food, it tastes way better, and you’ll feel like you accomplished something. 

make something. write a short story or a poem, draw a picture, color a picture, fold origami, crochet or knit, sculpt something out of clay, anything artistic. even if you don’t think you’re good at it.

go outside. take a walk. sit in the grass. look at the clouds. smell flowers. put your hands in the dirt and feel the soil against your skin.

call someone. call a loved one, a friend, a family member, call a chat service if you have no one else to call. talk to a stranger on the street. have a conversation and listen to someone’s voice. if you can’t, text or email or whatever, just have some social interaction with another person. even if you don’t say much, listen to them.

cuddle your pets if you have them/can cuddle them. take pictures of them. talk to them. tell them how u feel, about your favorite movie, a new game coming out.

This is a summary of college only using two pictures; expensive as hell.

That’s my Sociology “book”. In fact what it is is a piece of paper with codes written on it to allow me to access an electronic version of a book. I was told by my professor that I could not buy any other paperback version, or use another code, so I was left with no option other than buying a piece of paper for over $200. Best part about all this is my professor wrote the books; there’s something hilariously sadistic about that. So I pretty much doled out $200 for a current edition of an online textbook that is no different than an older, paperback edition of the same book for $5; yeah, I checked. My mistake for listening to my professor.

This is why we download. 

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