#Emergency Patient Transport Shifting

[shegatsby]

Heyy,

Hope you are doing well! If you are still open for Hannibal requests, can I request an NBC Hannibal x reader (preferably female or undisclosed) one-shot or headcanons where the reader is a doctor?

Maybe they met at a mutual friend gathering or some sort of event, and there is a medical emergency, so the reader immediately jumps in to stabilise the situation. Such boldness gets Hannibal really interested in her.

~♡~

A/N: HI GUYS! I'm in my prime era. Not me posting everyday lol. Thank you guys so much for your support, love you all. xxx

After working for 18 hours shift Y/N couldn’t even remember how she managed to drive home and threw herself on the soft couch but she woke up on it, in her scrubs, her hair a mess and a dry mouth. She coughed really hard and slowly sat, her head in her palms. She loved her job, she loved helping people that’s why she choose to work in a State hospital instead of a private one. If she worked at a private one her life would be much easier, however she wanted to help people who didn’t have resources to get the treatments, medicine they desperately needed. Over time she got famous for providing medicine without asking any money, talking to other doctors to help patients etc.

She huffed as she stood up, thankfully today was hers and hers only, Y/N had her everything shower, hair masks, face masks, body scrubs, oils and everything. It took her at least 45 minutes but she enjoyed every second of it. Later, she had a late brunch which consisted of bacon and eggs, avocado paste on a warm bread and coffee. She watched her favorite show to laugh a bit. It was The Big Bang Theory. Her day was going great until she had a phone call from a dear friend, Jack Crawford.

The situation was urgent, she knew that the FBI was chasing a killer whose victims were young women in their 20s, Jack called her to tell her that the killer left a living victim behind in the forest, thankfully a woodworker had found her and called 911. Now the poor girl was being transported to the hospital and Jack asked if she could go and check up on her, he added;

 ‘’You’re the only doctor I trust.’’

She was on her couch, reading a classic when she had the call, it was Jack and she couldn’t say no to him so she immediately got dressed. She wore a black skirt, a white turtle neck, she quickly put on her make-up and left. ‘’I’ll only be there to check up on the patient and that’s it.’’ She said to herself as she was driving to the hospital, ‘’And then I’ll go back home.’’

She was greeted by Alana Bloom, Jack had introduced her to Alana and Will before, they became good friends over time but a tall man standing next to Alana was a stranger to her. ‘’Hello Doctor Y/L/N.’’ the man said, extending his hand, the first thing she noticed was how controlled he was. She shook his big hand, ‘’Hello, I’m sorry have we met before?’’ she had to ask, he smiled but it was a small one. ‘’I’m afraid not. I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter, a psychiatrist who helps your friend Jack Crawford.’’ She nodded, ‘’We’re on the same page then.’’

Together they rode the elevator to the floor where the alive victim being kept, the floor was completely empty, there were two guards at the door. As they entered Jack stood up to greet her, ‘’Thank you so much for coming Y/N.’’ he said, ‘’How could I refuse you Jack.’’ She said as they hugged. Her attention went to the girl laying on the bed, her skin pale as porcelain, her long black hair covering the white pillow like the pit of a dark well. She was sleeping, a weary expression on her pretty face, She had an IV bag on her right, as she observed she had no idea a certain maroon deducing her profoundly. ‘’Here.’’ Jack gave her the reports of the girl. ‘’I want you to be her doctor Y/N.’’

Y/N was shocked, ‘’What do you mean? You asked me to check her vitals and give her doctor my thoughts…’’

Jack seemed uncomfortable, ‘’Y/N, this girl was almost killed and the killer will learn soon enough that he couldn’t finish the job so he’ll most likely come after her.’’ He started explaining, ‘’I want you to be her doctor, when she is recovered physically Hannibal will take over, giving her sessions till she is fully stabilized and free of trauma.’’

Y/N knew Jack just wouldn’t ask her to check up on the patient, ‘’Here I am thinking I have the day off.’’ She rolled up her sleeves, ‘’Don’t worry, I’ll be her doctor and babysitter.’’

Jack knew she would understand, ‘’Thank you, I knew I could trust you. Hannibal also will keep you company just in case if she wakes up we need him to sooth her.’’ With that Y/N turned to face Doctor Lecter, his maroon eyes regarded her deeply, she only nodded. They all left leaving her with Hannibal.

She was reading the file Jack had left, every detail about the killings, the pictures and medical reports were there, ‘’He is active.’’ She found herself saying and then she looked up, ‘’Sorry, I’m just… criminals fascinate me.’’ And then she went back to the reports but Hannibal, turned to her on the arm chair, ‘’How come?’’ he asked casually but he was intrigued. She look up from the papers, ‘’I had criminal psychology lessons when I was studying and.. the way they think, behave, very interesting to study. What are your thoughts on our killer Doctor?’’ she asked, ‘’I am sure you have created a profile by now.’’

With this question Hannibal made his posture more dominant, ‘’Yes, I have.’’ And he began to explain, ‘’The killer has an obsession for beauty in women, he is going after them to cover up what he lacks.’’ It got her attention, ‘’Which is?’’ Hannibal noticed the shimmer in her eyes, ‘’Beauty. I believe he has a deformity, maybe on his face or his body I am not sure yet but once the FBI catches him we’ll have more information. If you want… I can arrange a prison meeting because I will be there frequently to guide the interviews.’’ His offer made her heart beat faster, she had always wanted something like this, ‘’I would love to Doctor, thank you.’’ And then Hannibal asked for her email and phone number which she gladly gave. In the mean time they started to hear beep sounds from the machines, Y/N bolted to her feet to rush, the girl was awake and having an attack, she checked her vitals, they were rising crazy and she pressed the red button to call a nurse, thankfully the nurse rushed in quickly, Y/N listed the injections she needed and the nurse with skill full hands had them ready, Hannibal was watching the scene from the corner, he didn’t want to intrude and let her do her job. She was so calm and determined that Hannibal found himself wanting to get to know her on a more personal level. She was knowledgeable and had a curious mind which was rare to find these days. Once the girl calmed down and her vitals were stable Hannibal watched her thank the nurse, he had never seen something like this before. The nurse smiled and nodded and left them alone.

‘’Miss Y/L/N, would you like to have dinner with me.. at my house?’’ he asked with a calm tone, his hands in his pockets. She smiled warmly, ‘’Sure.’’

Thank you for reading. :)

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Android (Leona) AU - Commission Piece

Thank you so much @nemisisnemi for the commission!!! (And for also being patient with me LMAO) So, general worldbuilding first, the basic headcanons for every character, Leona-specific building and a Nemi x Leona drabble to finish it off.

If you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, here's my (slightly out of date) comms info. Otherwise, just like/reblog/comment. It means a lot!!

----------------- General Worldbuilding

NRC - Night Raven Conglomerate

Night Raven Conglomerate is known globally for many of their businesses, however their most notable and profitable model comes from Yokai Tech Industries. YTI is responsible for the development of state of the art androids, available for public use. While widely referred to as 'andy's' or 'mechs', YTI has a model for all your personal and business needs, for any budget. (Any budget being from rich, to filthy rich) Each droid model name is indicative of it's role and what it's been programmed to do. Regardless of model, be aware that your bot will have:

Safe search on

A personality chip *please note it will take some time for your bot to develop its personality. It must cater itself to you as an owner and have time to research and develop a personality from external sources. This may mean your bot chooses a name for itself besides its serial number if you do not choose to disable this function

A direct connection to our troubleshooting department

Recording on **all bots 'eyes' or optics are set to record the world around them in order to create a database for themselves and be able to recall old files in order to learn

A user guide and personal password/key in order to access settings in back panel (including most items above)

A recharge station

The Models M.E.C.H- (Managing Everyday Chores and Homemaking) The most common bots on the market, and also, the cheapest! These bots are perfect for individuals and families, taking care of everything from meal planning and budgeting to getting kids ready for school and cleaning! They'll manage household finances and run your errands for you.

M.E.C.H's have a humanoid design, but are manufactured in a white-coloured metal alloy. Most have a feminine appearance, but by request/with permission from their owners they may alter their appearance. Clothing is simulated by internet research and metallic projections that allow them to emulate cloth. (M.E.C.Hs from the factory are often dressed in a maid-like outfit or in a pant suit.) M.E.C.H's are able to alter their "hair" style and colour, so long as it is considered appropriate by their owners. They are also able to shift their height slightly. (this design is somewhat inspired by Dominic Cellini on twt/insta)

M.E.C.H's are very durable and also easy to fix. They are capable of repairing themselves from damage after watching a mechanic fix the specific issue once, or contacting our troubleshooting team. M.E.C.H's are waterproof on their hands, and water resistant overall. They are fire resistant, and are equipped with safety measures in case of an emergency. They also have a direct line with 911. **A business model of M.E.C.H is also available for minimum wage jobs, usually those requiring hospitality skills. They are more susceptible to the emulation of emotion however, than the O.T.T.O model, and may shut down when dealing with a customer. This can usually be avoided by turning off the personality chip temporarily.

---------

O.T.T.O - Occupational Transport and Telecommunications Organizers (O.T.T.O) is a great model to consider for the workplace.

O.T.T.O bots are programmed to help increase efficiency and intrapersonal bonds in the workplace, comparable to an automated secretary. O.T.T.O bots do the following up, so you don't have to. Progress reports and statistics are created and analyzed in record time. They are also trained to deal with H.R conflicts in a calculated and unbiased manner. However, O.T.T.O bots have also recently been taking their place behind the wheel for public transportation, currently the only model approved to drive. So long as they are given ample time to either charge OR refuel, (like a car), they are a much safer option on the roads than humans are. They are a great choice as a chauffeur,( and YTI has proved as such by starting a cab company under a different name/brand.)

On public transit, their appearance is much more industrial than their office-working models. Most O.T.T.O bots tend to remain in their factory settings, remaining completely chrome in colour. They often maintain a bulkier looking chest and shoulder area for the sake of keeping potentially unruly costumers in check, though their arms and legs are capable of stretching and appear similar to bendy straws.

While these bots are reliable, they also seem susceptible to wear and tear. It's often cheaper to replace a bot when it no longer serves it's function properly. (cough cough planned obsolescence cough)

It is not recommended that these bots work in hospitality. YTI is currently working on O.T.T.O bots that may be considered for work in trades, though this has mixed reviews from the public as of right now, over concerns of the bots taking over jobs that require more certification than simple safety and a driver's license.

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EM-RR - Emergency Response Robot (often referred to as an "Emery")

This bot is built specifically with human safety in mind. It's only objective is to rescue human lives. These bots are manufactured to look like humans for the most part, as studies have shown receptiveness to being rescued was improved the more humanoid they appeared. These bots are equipped with basic paramedic training, fire fighting, extensive knowledge of the law and how it applies, medical equipment like that found on an ambulance, and search and rescue supplies, including a detachable drone that is a part of them. EM-RR's are also equipped with extra rations of food, water, blankets, toys, and radios. Besides M.E.C.H's, EM-RR's are the best bot to have around kids as they are often able to handle the responsibility, breakdowns and tantrums easily. These bots are also built to withstand extreme temperatures, pressures, and fluids.

They are not yet approved to operate in a rescue mission without a supervisor as many are still learning what does and does not harm a human in terms of handling them.

-------

E.L.U - Entertainment and Leisure Unit

These bots are made for the big screen, often boasting the newest and best technology YTI has to offer. Their appearances are highly dynamic and can switch on a dime according to their whims.

E.L.U's can only be afforded by the highest bidders, and only 1200 models have been made worldwide for the public to buy. (About 35 models are used for YTI's ad campaigns and as actors in movies, and of those models, only 1 is used as a social media 'influencer'.).

E.L.U's are equipped with exceptional emotion-imitating technology. They are able to replicate voices without issue, learn choreography immediately, possess perfect pitch, and are capable of playing any percussion or string instrument.

E.L.U's have been through the most rigorous testing and development. While being able to sustain damage fairly easily, nanotech allows for superficial markings and damages to repair itself. Any damage that occurs on a software level is unheard of, but would be covered by insurance. At least, unheard of to the public

----- Custom Bots (The YTI is currently working to develop a 'build your own bot' program for young aspiring engineers. The program will allow promising individuals to create a new android using the technology available to them in the facility, and also lead to streamlining the process by which someone could order a custom bot. Prototypes have been promising.)

-----

Rapid Fire World Building

Riddle - human toddler Trey - EM-RR - Firefighting specialty Cater - lives at home (mansion) with his dad, who is a banker and investor of Y.T.I Deuce - Mechanic Ace - Was the Roseheart's M.E.C.H, took care of Riddle, began to disobey orders from Dr. Rosehearts, was slightly dismantled and discarded of Leona - Explained Below (E.L.U) Ruggie - O.T.T.O bot, mainly working in taxis. Very friendly, has to do constant maintenance on himself so they don't take him out of service Jack - Mechanics assistant, M.E.C.H Azul - inherited his grandma's restaurant, investor of Y.T.I, has several M.E.C.H's at his disposal Jade - is set to take over his mother's jewelry business Floyd - no formal training as a mechanic, does the upkeep for the Ashengrotto restaurant. Has mixed feelings about the M.E.C.H's, sometimes breaks them just to put them back together Jamil - a hybrid of all three bots, meant to attend to Kalim. Has additional security measures built in place to act as a guard. Kalim - human, investor and advocate for android rights, as he believes they exist beyond just their programming and should be treated equally Vil - E.L.U owned by Eric Venue. Hates it. Rook - EM-RR - search and rescue specialty Epel - Mechanic. Doesn't really like Y.T.I's inventions. Too close to humans Idia - head engineer of Y.T.I. Can you guess why :) Ortho - DECEASED E.L.U model Malleus - a discarded prototype of the E.L.U model. The workers at Y.T.I believe it's battery is dead, but it has been able to hear everything around it for ages. Kept in the discard area, not even used for parts due to issues that came up during testing. "Cursed" Lilia - one of the engineers at Y.T.I. Starting to question whether the use of A.I was a good idea, the more he works with the newer and newer models. Silver - M.E.C.H's original prototype. It's "old" now, and does not hold a charge well. It is good friends with all the engineers and other workers at Y.T.I. Constantly has a mobile charging pack. Sebek - EM-RR, forensics specialty

Leona Specific Worldbuilding

Falena Kingscholar was one of the first investors for Y.T.I. For the sake of PR and as CEO of his late father's clothing company, he deemed his contributions to Y.T.I's research as charity - such a stunning new invention, such innovation could do so much to improve the lives of those less fortunate. He sealed the deal with action when, on M.E.C.H release day, he bought 250 models to give out at random.

Some might make the mistake of thinking he's a selfless man.

As one of the largest investors in Y.T.I, he is given advanced access to latest models, often receiving a prototype after development has been approved. As such, when he heard E.L.U. models were soon going to be able to customized, he approached the owner with a deal he simply couldn't turn down.

So four weeks ahead of schedule, after hours of video footage had been submitted, interviews, photographs, memories retold, AI training, the semblance of his late younger brother stood in his living room, though slightly less...organic, so to speak.

At first it was alright. E.L.U - C 12515141 Was equipped with the knowledge that it's name was to be Leona, it's pronouns from there on were to be he/him, and Falena Kingscholar had requested him to maintain a "brotherly" relationship with him. While he wasn't entirely sure what that meant yet, he agreed. He had been given the videos in his memory banks as to who he was meant to imitate after all.

Leona tried - but to be honest, there was very little footage of the boy he was meant to resemble that offered information about his personality. He mitigated this by asking Falena to take a short questionnaire regarding which siblings in media he wanted him to imitate.

When Leona got his answers however, the patterns didn't line up. The boys he saw in the videos did not match the dynamics Falena had selected.

He saw videos over and over and over again where Falena was the subject, and the boy he was meant to imitate was nothing more than a background character. Secondary.

Now, maybe it was the push to develop him so quickly, so something was overlooked, or maybe it was just how evolution was meant to take place in a machine as novel as he, but something changed about his programming, about his personality.

If the living boy had been nothing but an understudy for the success his elder brother had come out to be....what did that make him? A replacement for someone who was never truly cared for? Built to be a coping mechanism for someone who regretted their decisions? All he was, was the embodiment of Falena's guilt, and a pillar to be Falena's redemption. He wasn't built to be loved, or enjoyed, or even for entertainment, he was built from man's selfishness.

In the following weeks, Leona tried to keep to his programming, but between processing and cross referencing and research on both the family itself and the psychology that he would be expected to have, he started to lapse more. He would write off slips of the "tongue" as "glitches" or his body language began to become more pronounced, usually in regards to annoyance. In between it all, he was trying to figure out if he was experiencing real human emotions about this all...or if it was all just part of the programming.

Eventually, Leona's internal conflict got to be too much. Violent tendencies and impulses began to arise, resulting in him damaging himself, shutting down randomly to avoid external conflict, and an otherwise unexpected disposition.

He listened into the phone number Falena made to send him in for repairs to his "personality chip." Leona took it as a threat, and immediately blocked all outgoing signals to Y.T.I temporarily to find a way to remove his personality chip on his own. Using bathroom tools, the mirror, and damaged pieces of himself, he all but performed surgery on himself to remove it - only to be horrified to realize all the "simulated" emotions he thought he had were still very much present. Unsure what to do, he stored the chip in one of his compartments, out the window and ran.

He was blacking in and out as he went, from the sheer panic he felt but tried to keep under wraps. It wasn't until he made it to a junk yard, where he could bury himself in scraps to hide that he finally let himself dive into power saving mode, sitting silently for who knows how long.

---------------------------

Nemi x Leona Drabble

Battery Charged - 100% All Systems Back Online Rebooting Programming. . . Programming Error Detected - Contact Y.T.I? Yes No

"No. No don't contact Y.T.I." Nemi muttered softly, fighting the grime on their fingers to make the touchscreen respond.

It wasn't very often that Nemi or any of the junkyard crew found anything of value - at most maybe half a M.E.C.H or a catalytic converter if they were lucky - but a fully in tact, possibly operational E.L.U was unheard of. It was genuine too. How it had ended up in the junkyard was beyond him, but he wouldn't forsake the powers that be that left such a project to fall into his hands.

He rubbed his fingers on the cloth set over his shoulder, trying again to hit the button on the screen. To his relief, it finally registered.

Y.T.I Services can be contacted throu- (tap, uninterested) If your bot is not perf- (tap, that's what I'm here for...) System's Calibrating . . . System Calibration Complete E.L.U C 12515141 At Your Service, Courtesy of Y.T.I

The screen finally flickered black, before the metal beneath it flickered into the appearance the bot had had last, it's hand coming up to touch it's head as if it had a headache, it's "nose" scrunched as if it were in pain. The optics opened and shut a few times, the gentle whirr of fans blowing out dust and dirt build up that apparently, Nemi hadn't cleaned out thoroughly enough.

Whether the bot itself groaned, or it was it's internal workings coming back to life wasn't distinguishable, but Nemi stayed on his knees next to it as it seemed to slowly adjust to it's new surroundings. It squinted slightly, locking eyes with Nemi before glancing around the humble workshop.

It wasn't until it lowered it's arm it noticed that the chrome finish was no longer there - hell, the damage from his arm was gone. It was slightly bulkier than the other, but all in all, with a little buffing it would be good as new again.

It opened and closed it's hand experimentally, as if processing it was functioning like before.

"...You did this?" The bot's once blue optics much more closely resembled brilliant green eyes, scrutinizing the work of the supposed mechanic next to him.

Nemi swallowed hard, unsure what, exactly about this bot made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but cleared his throat and nodded, gently taking the bot's arm in his hands and turning it to show the carefully soldered metal, just the smallest glimpse of the wires beneath it.

"Yeah, I did. Um, you were partially crushed by a refrigerator? I think it fell on you from higher up in the stack, so I did my best to repair your arm myself. I...I may have taken apart your other arm to make sure I could make the servos match up properly, but everything's good as new. Promise. Name's Nemi, by the way."

The bot stayed quiet a moment longer, now looking down at both it's arms.

"....Why? I was supposed to be scrapped."

The bot finally moved, but only to tilt it's head back til it touched the wall, bringing a knee up to rest one of it's newly repaired arms on it, and closing its eyes. If it could sigh, Nemi was fairly certain it would have.

He adjusted himself, sitting flat on the ground instead, regarding the bot in some confusion.

"But you're an E.L.U. Nobody would just throw you away or, gods forbid, use you for parts. Any self respecting mechanic or robofanatic would repair you. You're gorgeous, top of the line, most sought after kinda model....how'd you end up out here anyways?"

The bot didn't seem to like that question, it's auxiliary power cord flicking, not unlike that of a cat as it looked away.

"Does it matter?"

Can a robot have an existential crisis? The thought passed through Nemi's mind, but he just shrugged in response.

"Not really. But it'd be kind of nice to know your name if you want to stick around here."

Nemi was met with an immediate glare of disdain.

"I'm not gonna follow your orders. Somethin' about defective programming probably came up on my reboot, right?"

Nemi shrugged again.

"Yeah, but you seem fine. Actually you seem like a lot more fun than most M.E.C.H's. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, but it would be nice to have a friend here."

The bot remained silent, looking away from Nemi. The silence stretched on for a while, before it finally let out a slightly exasperated sound.

"You can stop staring. You can also...call me Leona."

Nemi couldn't help but smile a bit, extending a hand to shake.

"It's nice to meet you."

--------------------------------- OTL thank you again for the comm, hope this was up to expectation and also tag list time! @fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain @distant-velleity @elenauaurs @lumdays @theleechyskrunkly

DM to be added/taken off ^^

[inawickedlittletown]

We've Got A Long Way To Go (BuckTommy) - 2/?

Summary: A few months after the break up, Buck picks up a call that changes everything. Tommy has his own regrets, and an unexpected meeting and a change in Buck's life will bring them together. Fix-it fic. Words: 1.9k Read on Ao3 Chapter One

-

Chapter Two

The thing about working air support was that they could expect things to be bad when they were called out to do a med evac. Tommy almost expected it and so did Soph, the aeromedic. If it wasn’t emergent, most people were just taken via ambulance to the nearest hospital. They wouldn’t waste the resources of a helicopter unless truly necessary. 

The two cars involved in the accident had rolled right off the highway into a canyon. The 133 had responded and had called in for air support to transport one adult and a child in dire need of medical attention. Tommy flew with Lucy at his side and even she raised an eyebrow.

“A kid,” she said. 

Kids always hit all of them the worst. 

This wasn’t the first or the last call they would ever take to an accident on Mulholland Highway. People just tended to take the turns too fast or they were on their phones or they were drinking and driving. Tommy took the helicopter down and they weren’t on the ground for very long before their patients were loaded up. It didn’t look good. 

They loaded the woman first. She was out cold and absolutely covered in blood, her arm in a splint and her head bandaged. Next came the kid and oh, he couldn’t be more than two. He was strapped into the stretcher, unmoving. Tommy’s breath caught.  

Tommy focused on flying. He listened to the paramedic from the 133, a guy named Mitchell, and Soph work, heard the moment that the woman started to seize and then lost sinus, the machines beeping like crazy. Minutes of pushing drugs and CPR, but they didn’t get her back. They couldn’t get her back. Her heart had stopped for too long and there was too much damage already. 

The kid seemed to be in better shape, but if that was his mom— 

Tommy shook off the thought, made sure that his flying was steady. He couldn’t think about that, not while he was at work. Tommy was glad when he got them down onto the hospital roof, he was less glad when they unloaded the woman. He saw her blond hair matted with blood and her slack face. Two doctors wheeled her away, likely to the morgue. 

Tommy helped Soph get the kid down. He was rousing, shifting in place and groaning. His eyes opened and Tommy saw blue eyes that were achingly familiar. 

Tommy reached and grabbed his hand. “Hey, you’re going to be okay.” 

The kid looked at him and he looked like he was going to start crying any moment. A doctor was there to take him and Tommy let him go and could only watch as they wheeled him away. 

When Tommy turned back, he found Mitchell looking distraught. He was covered in blood and shaking. 

“He’s going to make it,” Mitchell said. “Worst thing he had was a broken arm. Few scrapes and bruises. Dad was dead on the scene. Now with the mom gone...” 

“Oh,” Tommy said. He had been orphaned. “Poor kid.” 

He shoved down his feelings about it deep down, had to keep the lid on that box because this wasn’t his tragedy. It didn’t change that his hands were shaking a little as he got back to the helicopter. It didn’t change that he felt this deep connection to the kid and wanted to know he’d be alright because Tommy hadn’t been and Tommy hadn’t even lost both parents. 

Tommy had been older than this kid when it happened, and it did change absolutely everything. When he was younger and he thought in what ifs Tommy had wondered how different his life would have been if his mom didn’t die. He’d never know, though, and it wasn’t something to dwell on. 

Tommy’s mom was only seventeen when she got pregnant with him. She had all kinds of plans and ideas about her future, but everything changed and her parents wanted nothing to do with her new reality. His father stepped up. Asked her to marry him, promised the world to her and their unborn baby. Got a job right away to support her, though his parents helped. She dropped out of school and by the time that he had graduated from High School they were married and had a seven month old and they had moved into a tiny broken down apartment they could barely afford. 

Tommy didn’t know the particulars, only what his father had thrown at him from time to time and only what he’d found left behind to gather dust in the attic. Tommy knew very little about her. He never met anyone from her side of the family, not even at her funeral. His father’s side was more present and Tommy remembered his grandparents fondly, but they had been old even when he was a kid and they were long gone now. 

The accident happened with Tommy in the car. They were driving home from the store and Tommy’s father liked to remind him that they’d gone out to buy something for Tommy. Tommy never knew, because he couldn’t remember, if his father was right about that. He just knew that he was in the car when it happened. 

Tommy was six and he’d been in the backseat looking out the window. They had been singing together loud and off key. Some Madonna song that Tommy couldn’t quite remember. She’d loved Madonna and Tommy remembered how she played her tape over and over again in the car. It was a long time before he heard Madonna again after the accident and not just because his father banned it. 

He remembered yelling when the other car hit them and how dizzying it was to spin out, the jostling of his body getting thrown against the seatbelt that dug into him as it held him in place. The way that the car hit the railings on the bridge and the way that his stomach was in his throat when the car broke through the railing and fell. 

He didn’t remember much more after that. 

When Tommy woke up next he was in a hospital bed. A sprained wrist, a minor concussion, and his body felt like a giant bruise. What hurt the most was finding out his mom was gone. She was only twenty-four. No one told him how she died exactly, at least not then, but his father always blamed Tommy. Said they got him out of the car first even though he wasn’t the one impaled and bleeding out. 

Tommy hated himself over it for years, not until he was in the Fire Academy and learning about how people were extricated out of wrecks. He’d seen pictures of his mom’s car and the firefighters had had to enter through the back window. They had needed to take him out first so they could get to her. The firefighters and paramedics did everything right, there was no way they could have saved her. 

Everything changed after she died. 

Tommy’s father was never the same. He became angry. He became mean. He hated that Tommy survived when she didn’t. Resented him for it and took it out on him. Drank so much that he lost his job several times over. When he caught Tommy with another boy, he screamed and screamed and it was the one and only time he hit Tommy. He apologized after and then told him he wouldn’t tolerate a fag in his house and that his mother wouldn’t have wanted one for a son either. 

Time and time again after that, it was brought up and thrown at Tommy until Tommy realized that he needed to leave. Somehow, enlisting felt like the best choice. He didn’t exactly regret that, but he did wish he’d been more informed about what he was running to, not that he had any regrets. It was, after all, how Tommy learned to fly. 

When Tommy got off shift in the early hours of the morning, he didn’t head home. Something compelled him to go to the hospital and check on the kid. It wasn’t something Tommy did normally, but it didn’t help that there was no one waiting at home and the last thing he wanted was to go to his empty house and face the loneliness that he had put on himself. 

It was the feeling lonely that often had him rethinking how he’d ended things with Evan. Three months after that day and Tommy was not even close to over it. He missed Evan and still, he knew that the pain and hurt that followed breaking up was better than the way it would have destroyed him when Evan decided somewhere down the line that Tommy wasn’t what he wanted. There was no doubt for Tommy that it would have ended that way, no matter how much he hated it. Tommy didn’t get to keep guys like Evan, and it was unfair to Evan to not let him fully explore what his newfound sexuality meant. 

Tommy had been a first responder for long enough to know that his part ended the moment he handed someone over to the doctors. It hadn’t been a hard lesson for him to learn, but he knew that others struggled with it especially at first. So, he usually didn’t try to check on people he brought to the hospital. It was easier that way. The kid had shook him though, so Tommy headed to the children’s wing. He tried not to think about how it was because it had brought up his own past. 

The last thing Tommy expected when he arrived was for a familiar nurse to smile at him. 

“Oh, you must be looking for Buck. He’s just down the hall. Room 107.”

Evan was in the hospital? The nurse had already turned away before Tommy could ask more and she seemed far too cheery for it to be serious. Still, it didn’t stop panic from rising. It didn’t matter that Tommy wasn’t Evan’s boyfriend anymore and it didn’t matter that he had effectively taken himself out of Evan’s life. He still cared. He would always care. Any thoughts of why he’d come to the hospital in the first place vanished entirely. 

He did get reminded he was in the children’s wing the moment he took in the hallway with the mural and the paper chains hanging on the windows. If Evan was here that meant one of the kids was probably the reason. Jee-Yun? Mara? Denny? 

Tommy didn’t rush down the hall he’d been pointed to, but his pace was brisk. He heard Evan before he saw him. 

“Can you stop trying to talk me out of this, Maddie. I’m doing it. Connor and I talked about it and I would have said no if I wasn’t okay with it.” 

Tommy didn’t hear a response from Maddie. 

Then, Evan, again, “No, I don’t need you to come. I’ll talk to you later.”

Oh. Phone call. 

Tommy didn’t know what was going on or who Connor was, had never heard Evan mention a Connor. But…it had been three months and maybe Evan had moved on. Maybe Evan was in there with his new boyfriend and…wait, children’s wing. Maybe the new boyfriend or girlfriend had a kid. There was no reason for Tommy to barge in on that.  

Tommy turned away, he’d just go and ask about the kid from the call and then he could just go home and force himself to forget about hearing Evan’s voice. He made it several feet away from the room when he heard footsteps behind him and somehow he knew it was Evan. Tommy heard Evan stop, so he turned. 

Evan looked exhausted. He inhaled a breath, blinked at Tommy. 

“Tommy, what are you doing here?”

[sevasey51]

The OB attending on call needs another set of hands for a patient in the ED. Connors wife is the only one available to help. She ends up riding the stretcher up to maternity because the umbilical cord came down in front of the head.

A Helping Hand

Summary : Y/N helps with a complicated delivery when an umbilical cord prolapse puts a baby at risk, with her husband Connor by her side, proud of her quick and calm response.

The ED was buzzing, as it often did, with a constant stream of patients, but there was a particular sense of urgency in the air. Connor’s wife, Y/N, was just finishing her shift in Maternity when she heard the call. The OB attending was on call and needed another set of hands for a complicated case—a patient had just arrived in the ED with a prolapsed umbilical cord, and they needed to move quickly.

“Y/N,” one of her colleagues called, her voice a mixture of urgency and calm. “Dr. Monroe needs you. It’s a tough one.”

Y/N had been mentally preparing for a quieter shift, but when her team needed her, she didn’t hesitate. She was always ready to step in, especially when it involved something as important as the safety of a newborn.

“On my way,” she responded, grabbing her gloves and rushing out the door. She saw Connor in the hallway just as she was leaving. He looked at her, a quick but concerned glance, as if knowing something was up.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice gentle, always concerned about her, especially when she had a busy day ahead.

“I’m fine, just a complicated delivery,” she said, brushing past him but giving him a small reassuring smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

She didn’t wait for his response, not wanting to delay the situation. She hurried down the hall toward the ED, where the attending was preparing for the transfer. The patient was being stabilized, but time was critical.

As she arrived, Dr. Monroe nodded at her, pointing to the stretcher. “We’re taking her to Maternity now,” she explained, her face a mask of professionalism. “The cord came down in front of the head—if it’s not repositioned, it can cause suffocation.”

Y/N quickly assessed the situation, her hands moving with practiced precision as she readied herself for the quick transport. “Let’s do this,” she said, feeling a sense of purpose rush through her veins. As the patient was carefully lifted onto the stretcher, Y/N stood at the head, preparing to keep the situation stable during the ride up.

The ride to Maternity was tense. Y/N could feel the weight of the responsibility, the room full of life and potential hanging in the balance. As the stretcher moved through the hallways of the hospital, she maintained calm communication with the ED team.

“We’ve got this,” she muttered to the patient, even though she knew the words were for herself as much as they were for the mother. “We’re almost there.”

Finally, they reached the Maternity ward, where a team of nurses was waiting. The attending immediately took over as Y/N carefully stood back, allowing the team to take control. The cord had been repositioned in time, and the baby was safe.

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, her heart slowing after the adrenaline-fueled moments. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and she turned to see Connor standing just outside the room, watching her with those familiar soft eyes.

“You did great, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low but full of admiration.

Y/N smiled, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow. “All in a day’s work,” she replied, knowing that this was just another reason she loved her job—every day was a new challenge, but it was always worth it when she made a difference.

Connor reached out, gently pulling her into a brief embrace, his lips brushing against her temple. “I’m proud of you,” he murmured.

“I couldn’t do it without the team,” she replied, her voice soft but confident. “But I’m glad we got to the baby in time.”

As they stood there, catching their breath, Y/N couldn’t help but feel grateful. She may have been called in for an emergency, but she had done what she loved—and had the unwavering support of her husband by her side.

[melles1276]

New chapter is online!

Excerpt:

Chapter 22 - Rescue is at hand

Knowing that someone cares about Bucky calms Steve down and for the first time in a long time he can lie down and close his eyes without worrying. Of course the fear is still there, but it has become more bearable. Sam will take good care of Bucky, that he’s sure of.

A mighty clap of thunder wakes him from his sleep, and it takes him a few seconds to get his bearings.

Lemar and Sam are sitting at the table playing cards, probably trying to keep each other awake. John has made himself comfortable on a roll mat and is sleeping soundly.

His gaze automatically goes to Bucky, whose condition - in his estimation - hasn’t worsened. Thankful for this, Steve sends a quick prayer to heaven, even though he doesn’t consider himself a believer. But there’s definitely no harm in turning to a higher power.

“Everything’s okay,” Sam assures him. “You can go back to sleep.”

“No, no,” he rubs the tiredness out of his eyes. “I can replace you or Lemar. No problem."

After a brief, silent exchange of glances, Sam shrugs his shoulders. “Okay, won’t say no to a chance to nap.” But first he checks the infusion again. “All set and done,” he informs the others and rolls out the mat to lie down.

Lemar reshuffles the cards and deals. They play round after round until a beep - thankfully - stops Steve's losing streak.

Grumbling, John rolls onto his back and pushes away the alarm on his watch. A few seconds later, he stands up, yawning, stretches, and goes to the window. “It's still freakin’ raining.” In the distance, lightning flashes at irregular intervals, but slowly the night is replaced by the emerging dawn. “I'll go out for a moment, and then I'll take over. I’ll take the radio with me.”

Steve nods in agreement. They also take turns with the radio; whoever takes over the shift is also responsible for the radio traffic.

A few minutes later John enters the hut with a big smile. "Guys! Clint answered. There is a short window of time in which the cloud cover is gonna clear. We have to take advantage of the opportunity.” He walks over to where Sam is sleeping and wakes him up with a quick kick. “You’ve got work to do. Make the Sarge ready for transport. We’re heading out of here."

After a short briefing, everyone knows what to do. Together they climb the path to the clearing. Lemar, Steve, Khadim and Hamid carry Bucky on the stretcher, while John takes the lead and secures the group with his rifle at the ready. Sam follows them, always keeping a watchful eye on his patient. When they reach the top, they are all soaked, but no one gives a shit.

A few minutes later, Steve hears the constant roar of the rotor blades. Relief washes over him. With a smile on his face, he leans down to Bucky. “We’re almost there, buddy!”

Bucky’s conscious, but so sedated by the medication that it’s difficult for him to respond. He nods silently and almost imperceptibly. Sam has tied the stump of his arm securely to his chest, similar to what Steve had done earlier in the cave, to prevent further injury. In addition, Sam has put a rescue and safety harness on him so that they can later pull him into the helicopter using a winch. Normally he would have been carried up lying down in a basket stretcher, but they have to take the quickest route because they don't have much time.

The downdraft whips up the rain and makes it fall harshly on them, but John and Lemar don't mind as they begin hooking Sam to the lowered steel cable. He will be pulled up first so that he can meet Bucky at the helicopter in the second round.

The tension is clearly seen on everyone's faces. Nevertheless, everyone does their best to work as quickly and effectively as possible. Once Sam is safely in the helicopter, the steel cable is lowered again. Steve helps get Bucky into an upright sitting position.

With practiced movements, John connects the safety eyelet in the back area to the snap hook at the end of the rope. “Have a good flight, Sarge,” he calls to him and gives Joaquín the signal by radio to activate the winch.

The minutes seem to pass painfully long and everyone stares spellbound after Bucky, who’s slowly but steadily being pulled upwards.

Once everyone’s in the helicopter, Sam leans over to Joaquín. “Let’s get out of here!” He gives him the instruction via headset.

Immediately, Joaquín makes an arc and accelerates to maximum speed.

The flight is loud and cold wind blows through the open doors, it’s constantly shaking, everyone’s soaked and the seats are uncomfortable.

But none of this bothers Steve or the others. They are on their way to safety, and most importantly - Bucky is doing well under the circumstances. That’s all that matters. 

Exhausted, Steve leans back and closes his eyes.

[leohtttbriar]

a right to your intimacy

Pon Farr awakens vampiric bloodlust in Vulcans--Nyota doesn't find this erotic, at all. Written for trektober: Day 28 monster of the week

By the time they made it to Vulcan, Spock had tried to suck nearly half the crew dry and McCoy managed to lure Spock into the brig and lock him behind the reinforced shields while he raved and spit and otherwise made a nuisance of himself. 

“Let me out, Jim,” he had said, as if he wasn’t covered in three different people’s blood. 

“Do you think he understands ‘No,’ at this point, or is the vampiric lust addling his language functions,” said Nyota. 

“I think he’s completely nuts,” said McCoy rubbing his hand over his neck in the exact spot Spock had almost bitten him. “But he needs help.”

Spock launched himself at the brig walls. 

It was possible the shields weren’t going to hold with the way he was expressing his profound rage at not being able to sip at McCoy's arteries.

Nyota and McCoy (being the most well-spoken and the most "medical-professional" of the crew) were sent to greet T’Pring as she was beamed aboard—the woman Spock had called before the blood-hunger had officially taken the driver’s seat. She was tall and imperious but that could’ve just been Nyota projecting, who was feeling rather short and helpless in that particular moment. 

“Where is he?” asked T’Pring. 

“In the brig, ma’am,” said McCoy, like the polite, southern weirdo he was. 

Then, as they were exiting the turbo lift on the security deck, the alarms blared and Chekov’s tinny voice echoed from the speakers: He got out! Run for your lives!

“Why couldn’t Spock have attacked him instead of Sulu,” said McCoy. 

“I like it,” said Nyota, pinching her fingers and pulling the corners of her lips down, dramatically. “It adds a certain… je nais se quois.”

“Did you just say something in French?” asked McCoy. “You looked like a French chef for a second there.”

“I would never say something in French,” lied Nyota. “Or English. You know that.”

“I believe Spock is coming this way,” said T’Pring. She pushed in front of Nyota and McCoy and shifted into a defensive posture, fangs coming out. “Stay behind me.”

A loud noise, like an elephant tripping on a basketball court, emerged from down the corridor, and then suddenly there was Spock with fresh blood on his face and shirt and hands. 

“Oh hell, I hope he didn’t kill Jim,” said McCoy. 

Then Spock was on them. 

Or, really, on T’Pring, who was really on Spock, if one was doing the math right. He leaped at them all, claws out, hissing, and T’Pring snatched him out of the air and threw him to the ground. 

They fought viciously, green blood splattering, clothes ripping, snarling, growling, yowling, and everything else that was violent and gruesome and decidedly bad. 

“Should we run?” muttered McCoy, watching anxiously as T’Pring locked her thighs around Spock’s torso from underneath him and tugged on his hair.

“That might make it worse,” said Nyota, who was also staring at T’Pring’s thighs. “Might trigger his predatory instincts.”

“I think that’s bears,” said McCoy. 

Then Spock, strong from the feast of at least four different people now, threw T’Pring off him, and slashed out with his fingers, catching Nyota on the arm and then yanking McCoy to him and sinking his teeth into his neck with a fairly inappropriate groan. 

T’Pring leapt to her feet, pinched his neck, and he dropped. 

McCoy swayed on his feet. “Whoa nelly.”

T’Pring hoisted Spock onto her shoulders and said, “I have brought Vulcan strength restraints. Where is sickbay? We can begin the transfusion now.”

After McCoy had transported the thoroughly fainted Captain to sickbay and then got Spock set up in his specialized handcuffs with a steady supply of T'Pring's Vulcan-blood juice on a drip, he sat himself down in a chair to watch his sickbay of blood-deficient patients recover while he snacked on a packet of chocolate chip cookies. 

Nyota led T’Pring to the mess hall, figuring the least they could do was thank her with an inadequate, replicated meal. 

Just before they reached the hall, however, T’Pring stopped Nyota with a cold hand on her arm. 

“You are bleeding,” she said, gesturing to where Spock had snagged Nyota in the flesh of her bicep. 

“Oh yeah,” said Nyota, ripping the fabric away on her sleeve to reveal the gashes. “That’s annoying.”

T’Pring said, “May I?” Which should have been enough to clue Nyota in to what she was about to do, but, as it turned out, it was not. 

Nyota said, “Sure,” and then T’Pring was pressing her to the bulkhead and laying her mouth on Nyota’s bleeding skin. 

Nyota gasped as T’Pring licked up and down the wounds, careful and detail-oriented and definitely too sensual for Nyota’s state of mind. A tingling started as T’Pring’s saliva dried and Nyota watched in astonishment as the gashes sealed and healed like they were years old instead of minutes. 

T’Pring stepped away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 

Nyota said, “On second thought, I have food in my quarters.”

It clearly did not occur to T’Pring that Nyota had meant herself until they had reached a place behind closed doors and Nyota was pulling T’Pring’s teeth onto her neck, saying, “Plenty to spare.”

But, of course, T'Pring responded logically. 

[editoress]

Only for Emergencies unconventional weapon | magic with a cost | “it’s us or them”

I have a great time playing a true do-no-harm doctor cleric in a ttrpg game~

*

Even in a world of magic and miracles, old-fashioned physical medicine came in handy. The fight had been long and perilous and left even those with supernatural powers very little to cast with. Anna was able to triage the group by what could wait and what would not. She used dwindling magic to close over the hole in Alvor’s side. She bound Magpie’s leg in an ordinary splint. The shadowy cloud around Maya had to be cleared away with magic, and there was little to be done about her shivering afterwards. She directed Thessa to stop Dani’s bleeding and let her see to the rest.

Magpie used her good hand to prod at the tear in Sean’s trouser leg, which was leaking sand with a steady hiss. “I could get one of my bots to sew this up,” she offered.

“That can wait,” the revenant decided. “We should vacate the area as soon as everyone’s able to move. Doctor?”

“Almost,” replied Anna. She was dousing a clean cloth with a bottle from her supplies. She told Dani evenly, “They use alcohol as antiseptic here. It will feel about the same as iodine.”

Dani grimaced slightly but agreed, “Okay.” Her face was even paler than usual against the gash at her hairline. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, but Anna was wary of letting a head wound go uncleaned even for the hour trek back to their safehouse. She dabbed it clean as quickly and gently as she could.

Dani didn’t groan in pain. But someone else did.

Sean shifted to alert. Alvor heaved a loud sigh. “Oh my god, shouldn’t they be dead already?” he complained. “I thought I fucking stabbed everybody.”

Anna was thinking: he did stab everybody. And what did she have left? Plenty of antiseptic and bandages. Nothing for tetanus. No sutures for internal use. No transportation, either. An hour back to town, and she had less than an EMT out here. She finished fixing the bandage to Dani’s forehead and stood.

“No problem!” Thessa chirped. “I’m doing okay, so I can take care of it.”

One of the royal soldiers, lying face-down, reached forward and took a fistful of grass. His arm strained, but he couldn’t manage to drag himself forward. Anna knelt by his shoulder. Thessa stopped in her tracks, a little awkwardly, and said, “Ohh.” Strangely, it wasn’t until then that it registered to Anna that they had been approaching the soldier with different goals.

“Doctor,” Sean warned, “need I remind you that these gentlemen have been tasked with hunting us down? Whatever mercy you have in mind, I assure you, it won’t be mutual.”

A gut wound. This was bad. The soldier grabbed her wrist defensively as she examined him, but he could no more fight her off than escape. He had a broad, plain face and green eyes. Every line in his expression was grim fear. “I’m a doctor,” she told him quietly—by instinct, not knowing if that word meant anything to him. Louder, she said, “I’m sure he’ll change his mind when we introduce him to the princess, Captain.”

“Anna!” Dani had adopted her sharpest, no-nonsense tone. You need to get more sleep, be careful, stay behind us. “You can’t cast any more right now!”

And yet she had a patient. Anna didn’t know how to get this elf’s armor out of the way in time, much less how to stabilize him and move him for over an hour. Well, some things took miracles.

Alvor huffed and rolled his shoulders. “Don’t bother healing him, I’m just gonna kill him again,” he said flippantly.

Anna smiled just a touch. Alvor’s concern was somewhat less direct but still present. “No, you won’t,” she whispered. It was only for herself, and for the soldier who was trying to watch her warily.

Footsteps strode toward her. Anna cast healing magic. She had to pull it from deep down, wrench whatever energy she could find out of herself and into the elf’s torn and bloodied midsection. Anna directed it to make the body whole again: organs in their place, blood vessels sealed, muscles stitching back together.

She felt strangely hollow doing it, as if she weren’t in her own body and were only watching her patient’s from above. Nothing hurt; she was quite numb. All the same, she thought: I see. Something’s wrong. Someone’s hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her backwards. She toppled along with the force, pitching back into the grass. She had blacked out before she hit the ground.

[linkemon]

Beauty and the Beast (Bakugō Katsuki x Reader) 11

ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ʙᴇᴀꜱᴛ. ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ, ʜᴇ ꜱʟᴏᴡʟʏ ʟᴏꜱᴇꜱ ʜᴏᴘᴇ. ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ], ꜰᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛɪᴍɪᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀʜᴀᴜʟ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇꜱ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ. ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀʟ ʀᴇʟᴜᴄᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ, ʙᴏʀɴꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱʜɪᴘ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ, ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.

The whole series can be found here. Part 1 is here. Part 12 coming soon.

When he's sick

— I could have left him there — [Reader] muttered under her breath.

The horse neighed, as if agreeing with her words. He clearly didn’t enjoy carrying Bakugō the entire way either. He wasn’t a draft animal, yet he’d been forced to transport the massive body all the way to the palace.

A few hours earlier, she’d returned to Hatsume, hoping for some useful invention but the only thing she received was a large blanket. She folded it and haphazardly secured it to the animal. Reluctantly and not without difficulty, they somehow made it to their destination, carrying the king in it.

— To the greenhouse! — Ochaco ordered as soon as they arrived.

[Reader] didn’t question her emphatic request, especially when Ochaco added that such faintings had happened several times before. The featherduster recalled the early days of the curse. The king had tried to leave his prison. Unsuccessfully. Sooner or later, the pain would strike him so intensely that he had no choice but to turn back. He could endure it for a while but eventually, an invisible force would pull him back. In the worst cases, he’d lose consciousness.

— His Majesty cannot stay too far from the rose for long — Ochaco explained curtly.

— Because of the curse? — [Reader] probed.

— That’s not for us to speak about — Kirishima said quietly.

The girl looked at the beast sprawled out in the dilapidated greenhouse. She was truly angry with him. Still, she couldn’t have left him lying on the road, not even after what he’d said. Especially since his actions contradicted his words. Bakugō wasn’t a fool. He must have known what to expect when he accompanied her. And yet, instead of leaving as quickly as possible, he had waited through her entire, long visit.

Sweat trickled down his forehead, even though the sun was setting over the forest and the air had grown cooler. From time to time, he shifted restlessly. She couldn’t just stand there watching him helplessly.

— I need cool water and towels. I won’t just sit and wait for him to wake up — she declared, leading the horse toward the stable.

— Yes, ma’am! — La Brava and Gentle wobbled toward the stairs to fetch what was needed.

— We could also try smelling salts. — Ochaco followed in their wake.

They were probably too old. They hadn’t worked well during the last such incident but it was worth a shot.

When [Reader] returned to the patient, things had only gotten worse. Nightmares must have been tormenting him. He muttered semi-coherent sentences. Once, he even swung his paw and nearly scratched her face with his claws. His rasping breaths boded ill. So, with stubborn determination, she soaked towels in cold water and placed them on his body, hoping to bring the fever down.

— Maybe I should bring a doctor from the city? — she suggested once more.

— Sweetheart, I’ve already told you it won’t help. No medicine can cure him — the featherduster explained patiently.

The enchanted objects didn’t know what to do with themselves. [Reader] redirected their anxiety into something they excelled at: cleaning. So, everyone swept the tiles, scrubbed them and pulled out weeds. Anything to avoid feeling powerless over their master.

— Besides, no human would want to come here — added the Captain of the Guard.

— I could bribe someone… or intimidate them…— the girl yawned.

Amidst Bakugō’s incoherent rambling, a few discernible words emerged.

— It’s my fault, Midoriya... — The quietly whispered, pain-laden words caught her attention.

She glanced toward Ochaco but the latter seemed preoccupied, fluttering her feathers. What had he done to her fiancé? It had to be the same man whose portrait she’d seen shortly after arriving at this place.

The darkness of the night gradually enveloped the area. The moon refused to shine. [Reader] fetched a few lamps. Their dim light seemed to fade in the presence of the blue rose bush. Wrapped in a blanket, she fought off sleep, silently observing the strange plant.

She hadn’t noticed before but it had far fewer petals than before. Some flowers lay beneath it, wilting. It looked frailer, weaker.

The thought crossed her mind that she could pluck the flower now or even uproot the entire bush. No one was around to stop her. The enchanted objects were asleep, softly snoring under clean towels.

She’d likely have to marry if she returned to the estate but there was a chance Eri would be safe, away from the experiments.

Then she glanced at Bakugō. Would she ever forgive herself if she did it? Left him here? He was gruff and uncouth. He infuriated her. Always making snide remarks. Yet there were moments when she felt he truly understood her. He probably thought he was subtle but she’d noticed. How he casually left his coat for her when she didn’t have hers and was cold. Or how he took on the hardest tasks under the guise of proving his strength. Or asked about Eri, quickly realizing how important her sister was to her. He left books that Eri might like right under her nose.

That rose held something that might help him. She couldn’t just steal it. Nor did she want to leave Bakugō behind. Her head drooped onto her shoulder as she slipped into a restless nap.

A sharp hiss woke her. It was Katsuki, groaning as he tried to sit up. He groggily scanned the greenhouse, his gaze lingering on the withered trees before settling on the blue rose. Then, his eyes shifted to the now-awake [Reader].

— Don’t move. You had a fever almost all night. — She stood and knelt beside him.

— What... happened? — he began, but didn’t finish.

— You fainted on the way back from Mei’s. We brought you to the greenhouse. Ochaco said it would help.

— You stayed here all night? — he asked, surprising her with the question.

She glanced through the glass panes. The gray sky heralded the dawn’s arrival. She felt utterly exhausted. Still, she couldn’t deny the wave of relief she felt.

— We all did. But I’m heading back now. — [Reader] tightened the blanket around herself, preparing to leave. — After all, we’re not friends. — She added bitterly.

Normally, she would have let it go but the lack of sleep had worn her down. Maybe she’d imagined he cared for her? Maybe those little gestures meant nothing? After all, most people in her life had never cared. What he’d said really stung. She thought he saw her as someone close. A pang of hurt clenched her chest. One of the few people, besides Eri, with whom she felt such a deep bond, turned out not to feel the same.

Her lip trembled dangerously. That almost never happened. And now, because of him, it was happening for the second time. She blinked furiously. She wouldn’t cry. Not because of him.

— Wait. — His quiet plea broke the silence. Katsuki reached a clawed hand toward her but pulled it back, realizing how monstrous it looked. The girl stood with her back to him, unmoving. — You need to know that... that I’ll someday become a real beast. Forever. What happened today... shows what I’ll become. I didn’t mean to say that. I thought if I did... you’d leave.

He stared at his clawed hands. He hadn’t wanted to admit it until now. He was afraid. Of what he might become. Would he forget everything he’d experienced? Would anything human remain after his next birthday?

— Why did you want me to leave? — She was still turned away.

— So you wouldn’t see — he took a deep breath — how weak I am.

He’d had plenty of time to tell her about his curse. That she should be cautious when venturing beyond the palace grounds with him. But he hadn’t. Because admitting it felt like admitting weakness. Something he’d despised all his life. Something he’d tried to eradicate in himself and others. Something he’d once accused Izuku Midoriya of.

The boy haunted his dreams. Worse still, he wasn’t even angry at him. He simply looked at him with pity, that freckled face smiling. He wasn’t sure if it wasn’t worse than outright nightmares. Because it made him feel guilty. And Bakugō Katsuki, king of Musutafu, had never felt guilty before.

— You said that so I wouldn’t see you were sick?

— That I’m cursed! Because I am! I did something wrong and now I’m this giant, hairy beast with fangs and claws. And if you’re ever going to leave, I don’t want you seeing me weak!

The enchanted objects woke up, rubbing their eyes. They only peeked their heads out from the pile of towels, quietly observing. Ochaco watched most intently. The gemstones in her feathers gleamed as if covered with tears but none of her friends commented. For the first time since her fiancé’s death, she heard her master admit guilt.

— You’re an idiot, Katsuki! A hopeless idiot. — [Reader] finally turned around. — Everyone is weak sometimes. You can’t avoid it. You can’t be strong your whole life. And that’s not bad. It doesn’t mean people will leave when they see it. I’d rather see you weak than not see you at all!

She sat beside him, surprised by her own outburst. For a while, they sat there side by side, in silence.

— Eri once told me exactly what I just told you — the girl finally added.

— Your sister’s a sharp kid — the beast remarked simply.

He didn’t show it but her words shook everything he’d believed in. He didn’t quite know what to do with this new understanding. Ideas clashed in his mind.

At some point, [Reader] began to laugh. It was so strange but at the same time so liberating, that he found the corners of his mouth lifting involuntarily.

— This whole conversation and you didn’t even say sorry. You’re hopeless at apologizing, Katsuki. Absolutely hopeless! — She leaned more comfortably against his shoulder.

Not knowing what else to do, he remained still. Her laughter gradually faded, replaced by steady breathing. He adjusted the blanket around her and stared at the slowly falling petal of the blue rose. A soft, barely audible whisper escaped his lips:

— I’m sorry.

[sweetcreaturetm]

Maybe it’s another nursing student Steve ficlet. SO WHAT?

Eddie is a transporter at a local hospital it’s a pretty chill job he gets to put his AirPods in and listen to all the metal he wants as long as he keeps up small talk with the patients as he wheels them to and from their rooms.

He gets called to take an older patient to a cat scan in the ED. He swings his wheelchair into the pod of rooms where the patient is and looks over to see who can only be described as a literal god. With golden brown hair almost to his shoulders half tied back and round gold frame glasses. He’s got on the tightest scrub pants Eddie has ever seen he can’t believe they fit over this guys ass. He can’t help but stare. Unfortunately he forgets to look where he’s going and almost runs into a grumpy old man who does not hold back from yelling at Eddie. He feels his face heat up. People are starting to look at the cause of the noise. Certain people. Certain godlike people. He turns and makes eye contact. The guys got a concerned face vaguely apologetic. Eddie tries to apologize and manages to get away from the old man and into his patients room. He gathers himself and turns the charm on. Gathering the patient and disconnecting them from any cords and they’ll be on their way. But as he goes to leave the room he’s greeted by the smiling face of the god. He gets a chance to read his temporary badge. Steve. Hmm it fits him Eddie thinks. But Eddie doesn’t make a habit of calling people their actual names.

“Hey Mrs. Jones do you know this man?” Steve questions his patient jokingly. They seem to have a rapport going.

“Remember what we rehearsed” Eddie fake whispers. That cracks both Steve and Mrs. Jones. Just when Eddie didn’t think Steve could get more beautiful he laughed and lit the room with his smile.

Steve looks back to Eddie and tells him he was just going to get some supplies ready while she’s down in CT. He smiles brightly and lets Eddie pass.

Mrs. Jones as it turns out is a hoot and a half they joke while he takes her down the long hallway and all the way back. And as much as he likes her he kind of can’t wait to get back to her room to see if Steve is still there. Tragically for Eddie he is not. And he can’t seem to see him anywhere. He maybe drags his feet through the emergency department to catch Steve again before making his way to where the transporters wait for calls. But unfortunately that’s all he sees of Steve for now.

Every time he gets a call for transport he jumps at it so maybe it’ll take him to see Steve before his shift is over. It takes about an hour before he gets another call in the ED he’s practically running the wheelchair down there. This patient is in a different pod so he gets that one done quick so he can lollygag around where he thinks Steve will be. He walks around the rooms and through the nurses station and when he’s about to give up hope he runs into the man himself.

“Are you sure you’re fully trained you seem to have a penchant for running people over” Steve teases him.

Eddie can feel himself blush “maybe I’m a little distracted tonight” he tries for a flirting tone.

Steve seems interested “oh and what is so distracting that you can’t steer that wheelchair straight.”

Eddie chooses to ignore the irony that he can’t even make himself run straight. He motions for Steve to lean in so he can tell him a secret “it’s actually a person” he waggles his eyebrows.

Steve seems to deflate “oh one of the nurses?”

“I don’t think they’re technically a nurse yet” Eddie winks and Steve gapes.

He can see the wheels turning in Steve’s head “Oh.”

“Is that okay?” Eddie gets a little nervous.

“Yes!” Steve almost yells but tries to save it “I mean yeah of course.”

“Well in that case I think we should maybe get each others numbers cause my boss is gonna kill me if I spend anymore time down here.” Eddie gives Steve a hopeful smile.

“Right.” Steve nods “Probably same I shouldn’t just be standing around flirting”

Eddie chuckles “is that what we were doing? You didn’t even ask my name yet.”

Steve blushes red. He gives his phone to Eddie and takes Eddie’s into his own hands. Eddie saves his name as ‘Eddie 🦽’ and Steve saves his as ‘Steve 🩺’.

“Okay Eddie” Steve confirms “maybe we can-“ but he gets cut off when his charge nurse yells for him.

Later when Steve gets off he sees a text from Eddie “Hey Stevie, let me know when you’re free and I’ll take you for a ride.😉” and maybe a stronger man would wait more than 5 seconds to respond but he is not that man. Especially not when it involves Eddie apparently.

[aquadestinyswriting]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

I got tagged for this ages ago by @druidx, and again more recently by @athenswrites. I think I do have seven snippets, so let's get this started. Placing said snippets under a cut to save peoples' dashes. I might have shared a couple of these previously, but I wanted to share them again, just because.

No Pressure tags: @sparrow-orion-writes , @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @freedominique

1

The sight of the shining white, if somewhat cracked and charred, marble of Toreguarde seemed like a far distant memory to the majority of the adventuring party who had just landed in front of the city gates.The owl archons that had transported the motley group of humanoids, single dragon and large awakened wolf bowed deeply and flew back up into the swiftly closing portal above.

2

“Down p’ease.” he stated, already leaning away from his mother in anticipation of his request being granted. Meredith huffed another sigh as she readjusted her grip and hauled the little man back towards her, “Not yet, Gavid.” she said patiently, “It’s busy, and I don’t want ye getting lost before we’ve even got to where we’re staying.”  Gavid simply pouted and grumbled some more, crossing his chubby little arms defiantly, “Not get lost.” he muttered, “I a big boy.” Meredith bit back her chuckle and hugged the little boy, "I know ye are Gavid, but folks round here are a lot bigger than back home. I'll let ye down when we get to where we're staying, aye?" All she got in response was a huffy ‘harrumph’ while her son sulked.

3

Tick, scrape, tick, scrape, tick.... Selene’s brow twitched as she stared at the mechanical monstrosity that was now sitting on the dresser in the master bedroom of the cottage she and Edwin shared. Why, in all the Gods’ names was there a timekeeper in here?!  Edwin poked his head around the door from the corridor outside, “Alright, I managed to find Bridget’s boot. It was stuffed under…” he trailed off, brows bunching together as he looked up only to see his partner glaring daggers at the silvered clockwork item. Selene shifted her gaze to the door, her eyes narrowing further upon seeing the perplexed expression under Edwin’s beard, “Edwin, why is this in here?” she asked, gesturing to the timekeeper with a nod of her head, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

4

Selene huffed as she looked out of the window at the rain outside. She had rather been hoping it would stop so that Caitr could spend some time outdoors and properly burn off the energy she still had in abundance. The Arcane Librarian was brought out of her thoughts by a muttering voice in her ear, “Stupid godsdamned idiot of a man…” Dwena’s voice grumbled through the Whisper spell. Selene bit back her snort as she replied, “Which one?” she asked, “I mean, I can help you if it’s Thaddeus or Thazaar but not so much if it’s your husband.” The auburn haired wizard could practically see Dwena rolling her eyes, “No, it’s the new divination specialist, he’s pretty full of himself.” came the reply, “In any case, Thazaar’s called an emergency meeting and asked me to get hold of you.”

5

"So mind telling me why you didn't want to go to Arborea?" Elowyn looked to Meredith, who was leaning back in her seat. The Woodling quickly looked back to the view out of the tavern window, feeling a flush of embarrassment on her ears. Meredith grinned widely, propping her elbows on the table, chin resting on her knuckles, "So, have ye actually been back to see her again yet, or are ye trying to avoid bumping into her again?"Elowyn almost spat out the water she'd just taken a sip of. She quickly swallowed the liquid, somehow managing to avoid choking as she turned to glare at the smirking dwarf, "I'm not -- how did you. --?" She stammered, before flinging a napkin in Meredith's face. Meredith simply laughed, "While I ken that ye're still as embarrassed about the damn 'livin' saint' thing as I am; I do remember being told ye had to visit the place again with the others at one point. All I did was put two an' two together." She pointed out. Elowyn huffed, but couldn't quite manage to stay annoyed at the woman beaming at her from across the table,

6

“Abouna, you’re staring.” The mild-mannered voice of the Woodling matriarch startling Edwin out of his reverie. He blinked and tore his gaze away from where the Grand Magus had just exited the office and looked down at the greying woman. Oakrose placed the book in her arms on the table and looked over to the door, “I must admit, it’s nice to have Selene come round more often again. Poor love’s not really been over so much since Alexis up and left.” Edwin tried to ignore the guilty pang in his gut at the statement, and instead focused his attention on the parchment in front of him, “She’s probably just making sure I’m settled in alright. I’m amazed she’s found the time, given everything going on.” he replied smoothly. Oakrose shrugged and fluffed up some cushions on the chair next to the fireplace, “If you say so Abouna.” she said, “Now, give us a holler if you need anything. And might I suggest that next time you take to staring at the Grand Magus, you focus your attention a little higher.” she added, smirking to herself and humming as she left. Once the middle-aged Woodling was gone, Edwin let his head fall onto the desk with a hefty ‘thump’, his ears burning and turning an interesting shade of maroon, “Galana preserve.” he groaned, “Do all Woodlings have eyes as sharp as Alexis?” he muttered.

7

“I’m sorry, but we can only allow those who truly follow the Earth Mother entry, you’ll need to find help elsewhere. Good day.”  Morag huffed a distressed sigh and shook her head as the old cleric who’d opened the door of the local temple of Throff went to close it. She jerked her head up as Gruk growled and Hilde made a noise of protest. The smith’s hand shot out and held the door firm, “Ye want proof that we’re not just some filthy Moradhir here to ruin yer day by reminding ye that Kherillim loves all her children, ‘true’ worshippers or no?” he asked. He raised his voice and straightened his back as the cleric glared at him, “I am Gruk, son of Ovak son of Garuld and I claim the heritage of the Stonespeaker clan, the unbroken lineage Blessed by Kherillim Herself. Now let us in before I end up doin’ something we’ll both end up regretting!”  Morag blinked. Of course she’d heard that Gruk’s father had been adopted, but to claim the name of an extinct clan? She glanced over to Hilde, who was nodding fervently along with her father’s speech, “An’ if you need some actual, paper proof, here!” she added, pulling a thick roll of parchment from out of her pack and thrusting it into the cleric’s hands. She shrugged as the rest of her family sent her puzzled looks, “What? Auld Derek had it out anyway. I think this is the amended one he’d been working on after Merri handed that old journal to him.” she added. Gruk rolled his eyes at his oldest daughter, returning his attention to the cleric, who’s eyes had widened, “Th- that’s not possible. The Stonespeaker line were all executed by decree of King Jotunn during the last set of Purges.” he stammered. He looked back up at Gruk, most of the colour draining from his face. Gruk snorted, “Then d’ye mind telling Throff that? Because, apparently, She’s seen fit to Mark ma youngest daughter and I’m no’ exactly happy about that either.”

[trainambulancepatnadelhi]

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Previous Blog: - To Conclude the Relocation Mission Safely Opt for the Panchmukhi Train Ambulance in Patna

[meg2md]

When time, read: [ ] double barrel wet colostomy [ ] appendiceal cancer [ ] malignant bowel protocol [ ] May Thurner syndrome [ ] Po vs IV vs rectal vs vaginal contrast As always, so, so tired. Last "work" night of 5 weeks with a call shift tomorrow. So the night goes oncology night shift > present research @ 0930 > sleep > graduation @ 1800 > call shift.

I'm dreading the whole freaking day. My research proposal is not good. My slides are messed up. It's confusing. I think the study itself will be fine, but a 5 week night float was not the time or place to get my shit together for this. I just hope the program coordinator can find it within herself to update my slides in the morning, or else I'm fucked. And then I'm gonna get such LITTLE SLEEP before I have to go to graduation for 4 hrs and pretend to be in a good mood and socialize. At least my call shift right afterwards is normal R2 crap, antepartum/benign gynecology stuff.

To be honest covering the oncology service has been chill enough the past shift-and-half, except for when it's bad it's BAD and probably the worst service to be on. I like onc nights more than days, though, because there's not a lot of extra people and I can just sit in my little work room upstairs and be alone and read through things. It's mostly covering the OR at the end of the day shift, seeing overnight direct admits and transports, and following up vitals and miscellaneous labs, post-op checks, etc. And then sometimes people surgical emergencies, or people crump or straight up die.

So, a medicine service +/- OR time.

My first night I had two transports: a malignant large bowel obstruction iso newly diagnosed HGSOC that is being managed conservatively given its size <13 cm but also her significant neutropenia due to her neoadjuvant Avastin therapy (her prognosis.... isn't amazing), and a "frequent flier" with recurrent vulvar cancer (and the gnarliest genitourinary anatomy I've seen) s/p MULTIPLE resections, EUAs, ablations admitted with c/f sepsis in the setting of a new perirectal abscess. All things considered it went well enough but my presentations were rocky, like I'd expect them to be for a new R2, but I'm almost R3. I was flustered because they both came at the same time and the LBO made me nervous, so I felt rushed trying to get the other transport tucked in so I only had to call the attending once.

Tonight started out with the potential to be a NIGHTMARE. There were two ORs running late, an exlap followed by an EUA with one attending, and a robotic hyst with another, and then I got sign out on four (4) incoming transports, and I also had four (4) post-op checks all due around the same time. I ended up not having to go to the OR because the exlap said I don't need to scrub anyone out, the EUA was cancelled, and one of the transports came at the same time so my R3 said to see that instead of scrubbing her out.

It's a very sad case, though. I mean, all onc cases are sad, but she was with her dad which just tore at my heart. It's a woman <50 yo, no hx cancer, with 3-4 months of back pain who finally had an ultrasound and CT that showed 3 large abdominopelvic masses and widespread mets. :c She's getting omental biopsies tomorrow. We ultimately think it's appendiceal or some other gastrointestinal malignancy because her CA-125 is only about 180, which for a pre-menopausal woman is low. Another one where the prognosis is not very good.

Actually, none of these people I admitted have good prognoses. I guess that's just how gyne onc is. :-/

The other transports probably aren't coming but I'm going to try and prep them in a second. There's a pelvic fluid collection in a woman 5d s/p a hyst with a post-op course c/b May Thurner syndrome and PE s/p extensive thrombectomy now on Eliquis, another vulvar cancer patient whose left drain fell out and now there is c/f infection in addition to just general failure to thrive, and someone who probably won't come who was found to be hypokalemic apparently on outpatient labs. And then some mystery woman in her 80s that may or may not show up on the ED board with recurrent HGSOC and a GTube for gastrointestinal issues.

3 h til signout, and then I have about 2-2.5 hr to sleep and practice my presentation. I'm ready for this weekend to be overrrrrrrrrrrr

[republicsecurity]

Simulation (f)or Reality

I sat there in my armor suit, the helmet visor down, ready for action. My partner, equally equipped, looked just as ready. We were in our idle mode, waiting for the call, for the moment that would yank us from this eerie stillness and throw us into chaos. As there was nothing to do we were in almost dazed state of slumber.

And then, as if on cue, it came—a flashing message in my HUD. The helmet waking us up. The location, coordinates, details—all neatly overlaying my field of vision. I glanced at my partner, our eyes meeting through the visors. No words were exchanged, but we both knew what to do. We stepped into the ambulance, the engine roaring to life as we accelerated out of the station.

The streets flowed past us in a blur, but my focus remained on the information streaming across my visor. The real-time map guided us effortlessly through the city's arteries, highlighting the best route to our destination. Traffic data, alternate paths, and potential obstacles were all right there, a constant companion as we raced against time.

We arrived at the scene—a bike crash. My partner and I exited the ambulance in a synchronized motion, our training taking over. My HUD instantly identified the victim, vitals, and potential injuries. The helmet's thermal imaging kicked in, revealing a heat map of the victim's body, highlighting areas that needed our immediate attention.

As we approached, my HUD shifted its display. Medical data, treatment options, and recommendations from our AI assistant scrolled in front of me. It was like having an entire medical library at my disposal, right there in my visor. I reached for my medical kit, my movements guided by the visual cues overlaid on my vision.

My gloved hands worked with precision, the tactile feedback from the suit enhancing my dexterity. The HUD kept updating, tracking the victim's vital signs as my partner and I worked together. The AI assistant provided real-time advice, cross-referencing symptoms with its database to fine-tune our treatment strategy.

Time seemed to blur as we worked, every second counted. The victim's condition stabilized, the HUD reflecting the positive change in vitals. With the immediate crisis managed, we prepared to transport the patient to the hospital. My visor highlighted the optimal route, factoring in traffic conditions and hospital availability.

As we loaded the patient into the ambulance, my HUD switched modes again. It displayed a patient summary, treatment details, and recommended follow-up procedures. The information was seamlessly integrated, a perfect blend of human experience and AI assistance.

We were just about to start the drive to the hospital, when the HUD flickered with a strange urgency. Our suits froze, the intercom to my partner went down and the noise canceling headset went into full mode blocking all the noise and external stimuli. The familiar visage of one our drill instructors materialized before me. 

I listened as the instructor's voice filled my helmet. The words were clear, but they felt distant, surreal. The patient, the scene, everything I had just experienced—it was all a simulation. My partner and I had been treating a life-sized doll, our perception manipulated by the sophisticated technology embedded in our armor suits. The HUD, the thermal imaging, the AI advice—all designed to give us a realistic impression of a genuine emergency.

I felt a peculiar mix of relief and disorientation. The usual stress that had flooded my system began to ebb, but a new tension took its place. The instructor's voice continued, explaining how our performance was being assessed. The patient's data transformed into a step-by-step assessment of our actions, our decisions, our collaboration. We would be judged if we had executed the crew resource management properly, found the right working diagnosis and kept within the protocols.

And then the praise and chastise came. Words of encouragement, but also  deficiencies noted for the next conditioning. But also an acknowledgment of our swift actions and effective use of the HUD system.

The grade we got flashed before me, a culmination of our efforts, our interaction with the AI, our use of the technology at our disposal. 

But beneath the surface, a nagging doubt remained—how much of our success was truly ours, and how much was guided by the very system that had just revealed itself to be part of an orchestrated illusion?

As the drill instructor's image faded from my helmet, it switched back on and I could see and hear the scene around us. 

The system instructed us to remove the simulation covers over the visors. Someone must have added them while we were asleep on the station. My gloved hand grabbed and lifted away the contraption that was magnetically attached to the visor or our helmet. As I removed it the world around us became alive, the ambulance we stood in became much more detailed. There was still the overlay but mostly passive. A case for the covers had been discreetly placed in one of the cupboard of the ambulance and we carefully placed the expensive piece of technology into it. 

I exchanged a glance with my partner. We didn't need words to convey our shared sense of bewilderment. The line between reality and simulation had blurred, and the HUD's influence on our actions, our very perception of reality had become undeniable.

The passive overlay became instructive again. We were instructed to prepare the next site for another simulation for the crew. Our HUDs displayed the coordinates of the incident, and without the immediacy of a patient to attend to, we were directed to reorganize the scene for the next crew.

As we approached the site, the HUD overlaid instructions for the task. Cones were to be set up to cordon off the area, the patient's "body" needed to be repositioned and covered. t was a different kind of choreography, one that involved precision and attention to detail, even though the patient had been nothing more than a sophisticated prop.

We worked in silence, each movement accompanied by the soft hum of the HUD's instructions. It was a surreal juxtaposition—the sense of purpose and urgency from moments ago replaced by methodical tidying up.

With the scene now reorganized and ready for the next crew, my partner and I exchanged a glance, we didn’t see any need for talking as this would simply be another data point for the constant surveillance AI. Our helmets concealed our expressions and we patted each others back. 

We stepped back in and as the HUD displayed the next set of coordinates, drove off to what was a real mission this time. 

[dreamskis]

got home two hours late from work because we had what we in the ER lovingly call a "super-duper emergency" right at shift change and i literally had to call in a police escort to take our ambulance to a college soccer field that i obtained emergency clearance from the university to land a trauma helicopter on in order to transport our patient to a specialty hospital across the state for emergent surgery on their actively dissecting abdominal aortic aneurysm.

all this because my work doesn't have a helipad 👍🏻

[mann777]

Physiotherapy at Home

Title: The Evolution of Rehabilitation: Exploring the Impact of Physiotherapy at Home

In recent years, the landscape of healthcare has undergone significant transformation, driven by advancements in technology, shifting patient needs, and a growing emphasis on personalized care. One area that has seen notable progress is rehabilitation, with the emergence of innovative solutions like "Physiotherapy at Home" revolutionizing the way patients access and receive rehabilitative services.

The Rise of Home-Based Rehabilitation

Physiotherapy at home represents a departure from traditional clinic-based models of care, offering patients the convenience and comfort of receiving treatment in their own homes. This shift towards home-based rehabilitation has been propelled by several factors, including the increasing demand for accessible and patient-centered care, advancements in telehealth technology, and the recognition of the importance of the home environment in the rehabilitation process.

Personalized Care Tailored to Individual Needs

One of the primary benefits of physiotherapy at home is its ability to deliver personalized care tailored to the unique needs and circumstances of each patient. Unlike clinic-based rehabilitation, which may follow a one-size-fits-all approach, home-based therapy allows for a more individualized and holistic approach to treatment. Therapists have the opportunity to assess patients in their own environments, gaining valuable insights into their daily routines, challenges, and goals. This enables them to develop customized treatment plans that address not only the physical aspects of recovery but also the social, emotional, and environmental factors that may impact rehabilitation outcomes.

The Role of Technology in Home-Based Rehabilitation

Technology plays a crucial role in facilitating physiotherapy at home, enabling therapists to deliver high-quality care remotely and monitor patients' progress between sessions. Telehealth platforms allow for virtual consultations, exercise demonstrations, and real-time feedback, providing patients with continuous support and guidance throughout their rehabilitation journey. Wearable devices and mobile apps further enhance the patient experience by allowing individuals to track their progress, set goals, and communicate with their therapists from the comfort of their homes.

Advantages Over Traditional Clinic-Based Care

The advantages of physiotherapy at home over traditional clinic-based care are manifold. In addition to the convenience and comfort of receiving treatment at home, home-based rehabilitation offers greater flexibility in scheduling, reduced transportation barriers, and increased opportunities for family involvement and support. Moreover, research has shown that patients who receive care at home may experience faster recovery times, higher levels of satisfaction, and improved adherence to treatment plans compared to those receiving clinic-based care.

Empowering Patients and Promoting Independence

Physiotherapy at home empowers patients to take an active role in their own recovery, fostering a sense of autonomy and self-efficacy. By providing education, resources, and support, therapists help patients develop the skills and confidence they need to manage their conditions independently and prevent future injuries or setbacks. This empowerment not only enhances patients' quality of life but also reduces healthcare costs and promotes long-term health and well-being.

Overcoming Challenges and Expanding Access

While physiotherapy at home offers numerous benefits, it is not without its challenges. Ensuring patient safety, maintaining communication and collaboration between therapists and patients, and addressing technical issues related to telehealth platforms are among the key considerations facing home-based rehabilitation programs. However, as technology continues to advance and healthcare delivery models evolve, these challenges are being increasingly addressed, paving the way for expanded access to home-based rehabilitation services for individuals of all ages and abilities.

Conclusion: Embracing the Future of Rehabilitation

In conclusion, physiotherapy at home represents a transformative approach to rehabilitation that is reshaping the way patients access and receive care. By combining the convenience and comfort of home-based treatment with the personalized and holistic approach of physiotherapy, this innovative model of care is empowering patients, improving outcomes, and enhancing the overall quality of rehabilitation services. As we continue to embrace the possibilities of home-based rehabilitation, we move closer towards a future where rehabilitation is accessible, effective, and patient-centered for all.

[iliterallydecepticanteven]

Combining the idea that Teresa wants to work in the ICU and the idea that Mac has energon poisoning, I've been given the following:

Mac, sitting in the emergency room holding a bucket of her own glowing vomit and looking like death warmed over: huh, that's new

Teresa: IT CERTAINLY FUCKING IS

Wig you have given me a wonderful idea for a drabble, please enjoy:

Teresa had bounced between multiple different hospitals in her time working as a travel nurse. She knows the ins and outs, the dangers of the profession, and what the various codes mean. Code blue is cardiac arrest, code red is a fire, code pink is someone trying to kidnap a kid, code aqua is part of the building is flooding, code white is get security to me now, code silver is someone's grandpa wandered off again, and so on. Those were the most common she heard on her usual shifts and she'd called a couple of them herself.

However, as she bounced between her two ICU patients, thinking about if she should text Emily about bringing home dinner, she freezes in place as the overhead intercom crackles to life.

"Code orange in emergency department, code orange in emergency department. Stay clear of area."

"What the fuck?" she mutters. The emergency department was a meager floor below them.

One of the nursing students with them on shift gives her a confused look. "What's code orange for?"

"Hazardous materials that aren't biohazardous. Usually radiation or chemical spills," she says, stepping behind the counter of the nurses station.

The phone rang and Teresa nearly jumped out of her skin. The charge nurse answers it and Teresa takes a few deep calming breaths. She tries to remind herself that it probably wasn't that bad. Someone probably cracked the container of one of the xray machines or spilled cleaning chemicals.

"Teresa?" She turns at the sound of her name. The charge nurse had one hand over the receiver of the phone. "You have radiation and hazardous material safety training right?"

Her stomach twists as she sighs, "Yeah."

Teresa had worked in her far share of various wards and units while traveling. She had oncological experience handling both chemotherapy patients and radiation patients. Whatever was happening must have been a mix as she had been told to gown, double glove, put on a respirator and face shield, and a lead vest with an EPD. She was pulling her disposable shoe covers on when the elevator dings.

Teresa was already in the patient's designated room. It was at the very end of the unit and had no one in the neighboring rooms to reduce the chances of cross contamination. She's not sure what she's expecting to be wheeled in. She had seen gruesome sights in her career. Everything from fourth degree burns to necrotic limbs to chemical burns down to the bone. She always expects the worst and hopes for the best.

The bed is wheeled into the room and Teresa freezes in shock.

Her patient is a young woman, looking small against the stark white sheets, still wearing street clothes, and clutching a bucket in her lap. Her eyes are glossy and something bright blue is dribbling from the side of her mouth.

Transport gets the bed into place and Teresa steps into the hall to take report. The patient, Mackenzie Adam, came into the emergency department complaining of gastrointestinal distress, high fever, trouble focusing, and a migraine. She then proceeded to vomit into a bucket, the contents of which were described as "unnaturally blue" and set off the radiation warning system. Vitals had been taken, blood type and allergies unknown, and she scored an eleven on the Glasgow Coma Scale.

"Great," Teresa says, clapping her hands together.

"We're trying to pull doctors to come and see her right now, it's just, we don't know what's wrong so we don't know who to send," the nurse says.

"It's fine. I'll take vitals and see what her complaints are," Teresa says.

She steps back into the room and smiles wide enough that it translates to her eyes. "Hi Mackenzie, can you tell me where you are right now?"

Mackenzie blinks slowly before mumbling, "Hospital."

Teresa gently places a monitor onto one of her fingers. She glances into the bucket and bites back a wince at the glowing contents. "Wonderful. Do you know which hospital?"

"Mercy," she mumbles.

"Correct," Teresa says. Slowly increasing that GCS was always good. She taps at her patient monitor, bringing it to life, and begins reading her vitals. Then she does a double take and reads them again. Just to be sure, she fishes a thermometer out of her pocket and swipes it across Mackenzie's forehead.

"What's wrong?" the woman asks her.

Teresa hesitates before answering, "Well, your vitals are a bit concerning. Your heartrate is a little high, as is your blood pressure, but still within range. And your oxygen saturation is phenomenal. But your temperature is very high and we need to bring it down."

Teresa had seen high temperatures before. She had encountered her fair share of hyperpyrexia patients and coaxed their 106 degree fevers down within normal range. She had seen patients hit 108 and watched their bodies give out.

The temperature on the monitor and her own thermometer read 125 degrees Fahrenheit. By all modern medical logic, Teresa should be standing next to a corpse, not someone who looked like she was suffering through the worst hangover of her life.

"Oh. I do feel kinda warm," Mackenzie says. She begins to shift around, pulling at her coat, and Teresa breaks out of her daze to help her.

With her arms free, she should start an IV line on her, start getting fluids in at the very least, and pull blood samples. But that grinds to a halt when she looks down at her patient's arms.

"Do you know what's wrong with me?" Mackenzie asks her. Her heartrate has increased.

Teresa snaps her eyes back. Normally, this was the point when she should be forcing a reassuring smile onto her face and saying she'd get the doctor. But there was no doctor right now.

"I am not a doctor, so I cannot give you an official diagnosis," Teresa begins. "But I can point out abnormalities."

She walks over to the light switch and flicks it off. The room is illuminated only by the meager light from the hallway, the dying sun outside, and a third source. She walks back to the bedside and gently grabs one of Mackenzie's wrists, turning her arm over to expose the underside of her forearm.

"See how it looks like your veins are glowing?" she asks.

Mackenzie nods and in the low light Teresa sees that it's not just her veins. The sclera of her eyes were tinted the same luminescent blue.

"They're not supposed to fucking do that," Teresa says.

"Oh," Mackenzie replies and Teresa has to bite back a nervous laugh. The whole situation felt so surreal, so fake, so inane. She wondered if she was going to wake up to this all being some wild dream.

As she snaps the light back on, she hears Mackenzie mumble, "I don't feel good." It's the only warning she gets before the woman goes lax and the monitor screams as she flatlines. Teresa curses to herself before calling a code blue.

Twenty-eight minutes of chest compressions and an ungodly amount of epinephrine later, Mackenzie is sitting up in her bed, asking for some water, surrounded by confused neurologists, cardiologists, hematologists, and toxicologists.

Teresa has retreated to the clean stock room to take a moment to compose herself by sitting on a box of clean linens and whispering, "What the actual fuck."