#flatlining

They say every story needs a pulse—it’s time I finally shared mine. 🖋️

​I’m Brina, 36, based in Europe, and after a lifetime of being a cardiophile in secret, I’m ready to stop lurking and start contributing. My aesthetic is a mix of vintage consoles and unfinished manuscripts, but my real passion is the steady, heavy thrum of a heart.

​Over the years, my interests have developed a darker edge; I’m drawn to the high-stakes feel of a racing heart, even if I’m a "safety first" kind of person. I’m looking for a meaningful exchange with fellow rhythm-lovers. If you want to be the reason my heart starts pounding out of my chest, come slide into my DMs. I don't bite... but my heart might skip a beat for you.

Lady’s and germs, I would like to officially introduce the main character for my stupid GOB AU! Drumroll please 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

ELEANOR‼️‼️‼️ omg finally I make a real post about her. Now I will say, the only reason it’s taken me this long to talk about her was cuz ummm, I was too focused on the cannon characters that I hadn’t figured out her backstory or personality. I had a few things in mind, but not enough to actually talk about. Also I didn’t have confidence that Eleanor would be interesting to you guys. But today’s the day that changes (hopefully), cuz now I’ve locked in and will talk about her.

I’ve redesigned this chick so many times now. That’s a problem I have with fan OC’s of mine. Why? I dunno! I think I’ve redesigned Elly about… omg, 19 times?! And this marks her 20th redesign! … I think I have a problem. Well at least now I have a design I like and WILL STICK WITH I SWEAR I PROMISE THIS TIME IM NOT GONNA CHANGE THIS‼️‼️‼️ I like this design a lot, she’s very very pretty! I especially like the bow I gave her, and I have a fun concept for it but you won’t know what it is until you get to the bonus drawings at the bottom ;) Not much else to say about the design, the pose genuinely took so long to figure out bc I didn’t know what to pose her in. I ended up choosing a basic ahh pose but whatever, it gets the job done.

Now time for the moment you’ve all definitely been waiting for, her backstory!!! It’s not as detailed as, for example, Callahan’s backstory, but I’m just gonna give a general explanation of her background :)

Eleanor was born in Toronto Canada to her parents Laurette Bouchard and Giles Bouchard on May 8th, 1986 (so about approx. the same year Banban and the gang were born). She was the youngest and only girl out of her four older brothers, and because she didn’t grow up with sisters she pretty much spent her time hanging out with her brothers and becoming interested in boyish things, like comics, video games, playing outside, being obsessed with metal bands, etc. Basically Eleanor was a nerdy tomboy (and eventually a rawr X3 scene kid in the 2000s) until she went to college and actually made friends with girly girls. Aside from growing up being a tomboy, Eleanor also grew up in a pretty Christian household, especially since her father was a pastor. Though it’s not like her parents were like… insane Christians. They let their kids be themselves as long as they weren’t getting into any trouble, and they were basically fine with Eleanor not being a typical girly girl. Eleanor had a pretty chill childhood all things considered.

By the time Eleanor was 25, she’d already graduated college and was a counselor at a middle school in Quebec. She was also married! … it didn’t last too long because her and her ex husband had a pretty strained relationship because, idk, her husband was kinda a jerk ngl (not like abusive or anything, he was just kinda not a good partner in general). Also around this time, Eleanor had twins! Mateo (the missing boy), and his sister Harper! Unfortunately Harper didn’t last long, as she would die age 3 due to being severely anemic. The death of Harper really messed Eleanor up, she constantly blamed herself for not being able to save her daughter, and it was to the point she developed an intense fear of babies crying. For as cheerful and quirky Eleanor makes herself to be, it’s all to compensate for the fact she’s still grieving. But hey, at least she still has Mateo. And she’s definitely not gonna let anything bad happen to him! He and a bunch of other kids are definitely not gonna get kidnapped by a giant jelly fish and require Eleanor to go through physical and mental anguish just to get him back. Yeah, definitely not gonna happen…

COUGH, oughh ow. Sorry my yapping isn’t very detailed, but I hope you get the gist of Eleanor’s backstory! As for personality, I actually did the 16 Personalities Test on her, and she came out with the ENFJ-T personality!

Essentially, Eleanor is very much an empathetic person, as she was taught to always be empathetic towards others, as well as just generally being kind since you never know whats going on behind closed doors. Shes the kind of person who gets fulfilment out of making others happy or making a difference in their life. Although her empathetic nature can set her back and lead her to not talking about her own problems to others, since she obviously has trauma from the death of Harper that she refuses to talk about, as well as not taking criticism that conflicts with her own views well. Shes stubborn, basically. Eleanor isn’t quick to anger however, since shes naturally patient with others (kinda have to be when you’ve raised a kid on your own for 5 years). But she can be annoyed easily and can become passive-aggressive as a warning sign for her patients running thin. It’s only when shes betrayed or loved ones are threated, she’ll blow up. And shes not exactly shy when it comes to insulting people either. Overall, Eleanor is an extraverted and kind woman whos got a lot of problems bottled up and she WILL clock your shit if you even try hurting her son.

ALRIGHT THATS IT, DONE DONE IM DONE!!! I hope you guys like Elly, I know I do! Sorry it’s taken me this long to speak about the literal main character for this AU, I’m the #1 procrastinator on these types of things. But hey, at least I spoke about her now!

And of course, here’s some bonus shit as well as the concept idea I had for her bow!

Continue……

Scene 4: Echoes in the Silence

The echo machine thrummed softly, a portable monitor with a glowing screen propped on the ground beside them. Its wand was slick with gel, the image alive with movement.

Will lay flat on his back, shirt pulled open, skin glowing under the moonlight and machine light.

Kadia knelt beside him, bare fingers tracing along his chest, stopping just over the apex beat. Her stethoscope hung loosely around her neck, but her focus was on the screen now.

Will’s heart thudded visibly on the display—muscle contracting in real time. A hypnotic rhythm. It was perfect.

“You’re beautiful like this,” she whispered, voice low and reverent. “I could watch your heart move for hours.”

Will’s breath hitched. “Then do it now. While it’s still moving.”

She smirked, a dangerous softness in her eyes. “You trust me?”

“Always.”

She moved fast. The injector slid in, smooth and practiced, into the side of his neck.

Will felt the chill.

Then the burn.

Then the slowing.

The heartbeat on the screen visibly changed. Slower. Thicker.

Each contraction delayed.

Echoes of muscle. Blood.

Time dripping like oil.

Kadia leaned closer, breath warm on his lips.

“I can hear it,” she whispered. “Dying for me.”

She lowered the stethoscope to his chest, her pupils wide, drinking in the sounds.

His heart shuddered beneath her, losing the fight.

Lub-dub… lub… dub…

Then—on the screen—it stopped.

Flatline. Echo freeze. Asystole.

The screen went red.

Will’s body was still.

His chest rose once.

Then not again.

Kadia sat there, staring, heart pounding hard in her own ears as she watched the silence inside him.

She straddled him slowly, hovering just over his lifeless chest. Her fingertips drifted across his sternum, ghosting over veins and bone.

“I could keep you like this,” she murmured. “No noise. No chaos. Just stillness.”

Then she kissed him—slow and deep, the warmth of his lips fading. His body was so soft now, so still under her.

But love—real, shaking love—coiled in her belly. Because he’d given this to her freely. Because this wasn’t just lust.

This was surrender.

She picked up the revival injector, thumbed the cap—

And paused.

“Come back to me,” she whispered. “Don’t make me beg.”

She plunged the syringe into his heart and pushed.

Nothing.

The screen stuttered—

Then spiked.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

He gasped awake, seizing upward, lungs clawing for air.

His eyes locked onto hers instantly. “Kadia—”

She grabbed him, buried her face into his neck. “You were mine. Every second.”

He kissed her temple, dazed. “Still am.”

They held each other on the dirt, sweat and gel and ghostly adrenaline between them.

But then—she pulled back. Her face changed.

She was still kneeling. Still breathing hard.

But something—shifted.

“Will,” she said softly. “Hold me.”

And collapsed.

Scene 5: Her Flatline

“Kadia?”

He caught her mid-fall, turning her over, arms already ripping open her vest.

“No. No, no—Kadia.”

He searched for her injector. She’d already used it—on herself?

Her chest was bare beneath him, rising weakly, fluttering.

The echo probe slipped from its mount, dragging against her ribs. Will shoved gel onto it, slammed it against her chest.

The echo screen lit up:

Her heart was still moving—but erratically.

Then it skipped.

Stuttered.

Stopped.

Red screen. Asystole.

“No—no, not you. Not like this—not like this.”

Her lips were pale. Her body limp.

He dropped his stethoscope to her chest.

Silence.

His hands trembled as he grabbed the revival syringe, stabbed it into her chest with brutal force.

“Come back. Please—come back to me.”

He started compressions.

“One-two-three-four—don’t you fucking do this—five-six-seven—breathe, Kadia, breathe—”

Nothing.

Again.

Syringe—second dose.

Chest compressions harder. Frantic. Desperate.

“Don’t leave me here. Don’t die in my arms. Not now. Not when I love you.”

He said it.

Out loud.

“I love you.”

The screen jumped.

One flutter. Then two. Then rhythm.

Her body jerked. Air shot into her lungs like a scream. She gasped, coughing, eyes wild.

“W—Will?”

He dropped to her, holding her so tightly he shook. His face buried in her neck, tears sliding into her collarbone.

“You scared the fuck out of me.”

Her voice was hoarse. “I… I went too far.”

He pulled back, hand over her chest.

“I heard nothing,” he whispered. “And I’ve never felt more alone.”

Kadia cupped his cheek.

“I’m here. And next time—”

She kissed him.

“—you’re not flatlining without me.”

Scene 6: Between His Hands

The echo monitor still blinked in the background—red replaced with green.

Will sat against the broken wall, cradling Kadia between his knees. Her breath was shallow, lashes damp, sweat cooling on her chest.

He’d brought her back.

But something wasn’t right.

Not just from the flatline.

“Kadia,” he said softly, adjusting his body so she was resting against his thigh. “Talk to me.”

“I…” she began, then hesitated. “There’s something about my heart.”

He looked down, scanning her torso—searching.

She slowly took his hand and guided it to the center of her chest.

“I was born without a proper sternum. Reconstruction didn’t take.” Her voice trembled—not from fear, but from exposure. From letting him in.

“Will…” she whispered. “You can feel it.”

And she pressed his fingers—just two—into the soft place at the base of her sternum, where bone should’ve been but wasn’t.

He felt it instantly.

A strong, rhythmic push.

Not hidden.

Not deep.

There.

Her heart.

Right beneath his touch.

His breath caught.

He looked at her, stunned, then slowly lowered his eyes to her chest. And there—he saw it. Beneath the thin skin, a visible pulse, rising and falling at the apex, just left of center, at the 5th costal space.

Will’s fingers slid—gently—over her skin.

From the base of her sternum to the left, over the soft, warm swell near her breast.

“Jesus…” he breathed. “It’s right there.”

She nodded. “You see now why I hear it all the time. Why I feel it. Why I—”

“Why you love it,” he finished, not accusing. Just understanding.

She looked away. “It’s like it’s outside me sometimes. Like it belongs to someone else.”

His voice was hushed, reverent. “It belongs to me, now.”

He leaned down, mouth brushing the center of her chest, just above the beat. “I know hearts. I’ve studied hundreds. Scanned them. Resuscitated them. But I’ve never…”

He kissed it.

“…seen one like this.”

She trembled under him.

Will retrieved the echo probe, reapplying gel slowly, sensually, over her sternum.

“I want to look inside you,” he said softly. “I want to see everything.”

She nodded.

He pressed the probe to her chest.

The screen lit up.

There it was.

Kadia’s heart filled the monitor—a stunning, central placement. The muscular walls thick, efficient. But slightly irregular. Something about the rhythm…

Will traced the image with his gloved fingertip.

“You’ve got a rare rotation—your heart sits midline, anterior. Exposed. God…” He leaned closer, watching the valves open and close in real time.

“Your apex beat,” he whispered, moving his hand to her side, “can be seen… and felt…”

He slid his hand just under her left breast.

There, too—the tapping against his palm, like her heart was reaching for him.

She gasped.

“Will—”

“Shh,” he said, gently. “Let me map you.”

He closed his eyes, placing both hands over her chest—one center, one left—feeling the rhythm between them.

“You’re not broken,” he said, forehead pressed to her skin. “You’re raw. And perfect.”

She laughed softly, tears glimmering. “It’s ugly—”

“It’s not.” His voice was firm now. “It’s you.”

He looked up, his eyes locked on hers. “Kadia, I don’t just want to listen to your heart.”

He leaned down.

“I want to memorize it.”

He laid flat beside her, pressing his ear to the center of her chest. No stethoscope. No filter.

Just him.

Her.

The skin.

The beat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Soft, close, alive.

She stroked his hair, breath catching. “You hear it?”

“I hear us.”

Scene 7: The Silence Between

The firelight from the small camp stove flickered across her skin—across the swell of her breasts, the curve of her ribs, the gleaming slick of ultrasound gel still clinging to her chest. Her shirt lay discarded beside them, combat gear forgotten, her body laid bare beneath the stars and the field tent’s half-closed flap.

Will knelt beside her, shirt open, chest rising with slow, quiet breaths. His hands—skilled, steady—hovered just over the place where her heart beat visibly, a rhythmic rise beneath the skin just to the left of center.

No sternum. No protection. Just her.

Kadia lay flat on her back, arms at her sides, heart completely exposed.

“I want to hear you,” he whispered.

And then, reverently, he lowered his head.

His cheek brushed the top swell of her left breast. He exhaled softly over the visible beat.

Then he laid his ear—directly—over her heart.

For a moment, he just listened.

Lub-dub… lub-dub… lub… dub…

He closed his eyes, face pressed to her chest. The rhythm was slow—unusually slow.

But beautiful.

“Forty-six BPM,” he murmured. “You always run this cold?”

She nodded weakly. “Sometimes lower. It’s always been slow. But…” She hesitated.

Will heard it.

A pause.

A gap.

Then a strange, fluttering burst—like her heart skipped, fell, then stumbled back into rhythm.

His eyes snapped open.

“Kadia.”

She clenched her jaw. “It’s happening.”

Will pulled back just enough to see her face, but kept one hand over her heart.

He could feel it change—as if the muscle collapsed beneath his palm.

Then nothing.

No beat.

Just a dead weight under his hand.

She reached up with trembling fingers, knocked against her own chest.

“Sometimes… I have to hit it.”

Will caught her hand.

“No. Let me.”

He lifted his fist—not harsh, but controlled—and delivered a firm, practiced blow with the heel of his palm to the center of her chest.

Her body jolted.

Her back arched slightly.

A second later—fluttering.

Her heart reacted like a bird startled in the dark—flapping, irregular, painful.

She gasped, her body shuddering.

Will instantly brought the stethoscope to her chest, sliding the diaphragm between her breasts, just over the erratic thumping.

Flutter… skip… thud-thud… skip… THUD.

His face darkened with focus. “Your vagus nerve is crashing the whole damn rhythm. That wasn’t just a pause. That was asystole.”

She tried to smile. “Romantic, huh?”

He growled softly. “It’s killing me.”

He adjusted her body, lifting her slightly so he could listen more deeply. His mouth brushed the underside of her left breast as he pressed his stethoscope tighter to her skin.

“I’ve heard thousands of hearts,” he murmured. “None like this. None so alive and so close to stopping.”

His hand slid over the beat again.

And he watched it—on her chest—stutter again.

Kadia flinched. “It’s collapsing again—Will—”

He climbed fully on top of her now, straddling her thighs, his bare chest pressed against hers, skin to skin, heart to heart.

“I’ll pace you with mine,” he whispered. “Feel me. Let me carry you.”

Her heart stalled again.

And Will didn’t move.

He listened. He felt.

He kissed her lips—soft, lingering, trembling.

Then he whispered, “You’re mine. You don’t get to stop unless I say so.”

His hand went back to her chest—pressing directly to her apex.

He began to press rhythmically, just enough to stimulate.

Not CPR.

Something more intimate. More knowing.

Tap—tap—tap.

His other hand slid along her side, thumb brushing her nipple, the curve of her ribcage.

“You’re coming back,” he whispered.

And she did.

With a gasp.

With a painful, staggering series of beats—irregular, then slow, then steady.

He exhaled. Shaky. Sweating. Eyes shining.

“You scared me.”

“I always do,” she whispered. “Because you know what I am.”

He kissed her forehead.

“I know what you are, Kadia Vale.”

His lips trailed down between her breasts, hovering again over the beat.

“You are the most beautiful heartbeat I’ve ever heard.”

And he laid his head back down—this time for minutes—just listening, lips occasionally brushing her skin, letting his fingers memorize every flutter, every tremble.

Every silent second between.

Scene 8: The Long Pause

She was in his arms again.

Her chest still bare, heart still vulnerable beneath the soft lamplight and evening wind that slipped in through the open tent flap. The faint hum of the echo monitor had faded into the background, its screen still lit but no longer trusted—not with what he was feeling under his palm.

Will kissed the corner of her mouth, the space just beneath her jaw, the spot above the pulse he always followed.

“Kadia,” he whispered. “How do you feel?”

She blinked slowly, her body slackening. “Light… floaty.”

His brow furrowed.

Her heartbeat was slowing again.

Slower than ever before.

He laid the stethoscope to her chest, directly on the warm skin between her breasts.

Lub… dub…

Lub……

……

……

His fingers twitched.

“Kadia. Stay with me.”

Her lips moved, but no sound came.

Then—nothing.

He jerked upright, head snapping to the monitor.

Flatline.

He looked back down—her chest was not rising.

No breath.

No pulse.

No sound.

No heartbeat.

“Kadia.” His voice cracked. “No, no, no—not like this.”

He dropped to her, ear pressed flat against her chest, right over the place where her heart should’ve been pounding into his skull.

Silence.

He turned instantly, sealing his mouth over hers.

One breath.

Another.

Another.

Her chest rose under his lips—but limp. No response.

He pulled back, looked at her face—still, pale, lips turning slightly gray-blue.

He snapped into position, one hand placed on her chest—right over the apex—his other hand covering it.

And he began compressions.

“Come on—Kadia—one-two-three-four—come back—five-six—breathe—”

He kept going, the sound of his hands striking her bare chest echoing in the silence.

Her breasts trembled slightly with each push, but her body gave no resistance, no sign of life.

He leaned down, gave two more breaths. Her lips were cold.

“Don’t you fucking do this to me,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You hear me? You don’t leave me. Not here. Not now. Not like this.”

The echo monitor flickered.

Still flat.

Will’s hand flew to his medical kit—ripping it open.

He pulled out the portable field defibrillator, hands moving with muscle memory even as his eyes blurred with fear.

He stuck the pads—one just beneath her left breast, one high on her right chest.

The gel sizzled slightly against her skin.

[CHARGE READY – 200 JOULES]

His thumb hovered.

He looked down at her—bare, beautiful, gone.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Come back so I can say it again.”

He hit the trigger.

Her body jerked—violently.

Her back arched, eyes fluttered.

Then stillness.

Will moved fast—breaths. Compressions. Counting again.

“Please, Kadia… breathe. Please, baby—just one more beat.”

The screen blinked—

Then spiked.

One beat.

Another.

Then a rhythm.

She gasped—choking, violent—air dragged in like it hurt.

Will fell over her, pressing his face to her chest.

The stethoscope shook in his hand.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

Slow. Erratic. Real.

Her voice came, raw and broken. “Will…?”

He sobbed once—just once. Then kissed her chest, her mouth, her cheek, her heart.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You’re back. You’re back.”

She blinked slowly, tears streaking from the corners of her eyes.

“I heard you… calling me.”

He nodded. “I would’ve torn the world down to bring you back.”

She smiled faintly, reaching for his wrist, guiding his hand back to her chest.

Her heartbeat fluttered under his palm—delicate, but alive.

And this time, she whispered:

“Yours.”

Scene 9: The Drop

Will was still kneeling over her—hands cupping her face, stethoscope resting on her ribs, the warmth of her skin slowly returning under his touch. Her chest rose steadily now, heartbeat slow, but present.

He kissed her again. Softer. With reverence.

Her lips trembled beneath his, and then she smiled.

Not a tease. Not a smirk.

A real smile. Gentle. Fragile.

She whispered, “I love you too.”

Will froze—just for a heartbeat.

Those words hit deeper than the silence ever had.

He opened his mouth to answer—

But her eyes fluttered.

And then rolled back.

“Kadia?”

Her body jerked violently, back arching. Arms tensed, fingers curling in unnatural spasms.

“Kadia—no—”

She seized—her whole body trembling in a violent, uncontrolled rhythm. Her breath caught—gurgled—and stopped.

Will caught her just as she collapsed fully, her head falling limply to the side.

His hand flew to her chest.

No beat.

He dropped his head to her breast.

Silence.

The echo monitor beeped once—then flatlined again.

Asystole.

“No no no no no no no—God, not again—”

He grabbed the stethoscope, slammed it over her heart. His hand trembled so hard he could barely hold it.

Nothing.

He ripped it off, mouth to mouth, breathing hard into her lungs. His chest heaved.

“Come back to me,” he begged. “Kadia—don’t you leave me now.”

He started compressions again—over her bare chest, her breasts shifting slightly with each rhythmic push. His palms pressed directly over her heart’s visible location, knowing it had collapsed again, folded in on itself like it had before—but worse.

Her lips were blue now.

He counted aloud, tears threatening: “One-two-three-four—breathe—five-six-seven—don’t you fucking die—Kadia—Kadia!”

Still nothing.

His hand flew to the defibrillator again. He slapped new gel pads down—her chest wet, skin burning from the last shock.

[CHARGING – 300 JOULES]

He looked down—her body pale under the field light, breasts rising with his forced breaths, chest twitching faintly with each compression but no pulse, no sound, no life.

He hit the trigger.

Her body arched.

Then collapsed.

The monitor—still flat.

His voice cracked.

“No. No. Don’t do this. I just got you back. I just heard you say it—don’t leave me now—please—”

He leaned down and kissed her again, lips brushing hers as he gave another breath. Her head lolled.

His hand cupped her jaw.

“I love you,” he whispered into her mouth. “I love your broken, wild, fucking terrifying heart.”

He placed both hands on her chest again, more gentle now.

“Come back, Kadia,” he said. “I’m not done listening to you.”

………

please look at him and all his glory