#The Heavy Metal ICU

[weaper-reaper]

Eventuality Pt.1

2, 3+4, 5, 6

Hey shawties its me again, back with my FIRST Konig fic. Very terrible German shenanigans will ensue so be warned. I’m here to feed the small community that is the Konig baby girls. New format, this fic is written with an MC (I know huge surprise, but just consider it a reader-insert.) MC uses She/Her pronouns, I’m sorry. Feminine anatomy and all that.

CW: Medical Inaccuracies, German translation Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, you get the point, Fluff, Plot heavy, Eventual smut, Established background, Updating tags with each chapter, Konig x Reader, Konig x OFC, Maybe Johnny “Soap” Mctavish x reader, unless?, COD Franchise, MWII, Call of Duty characters, Captian Pierce, loosely mentioned

“Fucking stupid… piece of shit.. god-“ the sticker label fell through my fingers and I knocked an entire stack of papers over trying to grab it. “Damnit.” I sighed. How I ever made it as a nurse, much less working as an ICU nurse in military bases is lost on me. A chuckle at the doorway pulled me from my self loathing.

“Captain!” I quickly stood from my crouched position over the floor, and brought my arm up in a salute.

“Please no need,” he started, “I’ve just come with your next assignment.”

I could feel my face twist together with confusion. Next assignment?

“I’m stationed here until the sixteenth, sir.”

“I’m afraid we can’t send anyone else.”

I almost scoffed- and motioned my arms out. Here I am, surrounded by my own mess, and I’m the best person for the job?

He read me easily and tipped his head towards me in recognition, “Do you have any dependents waiting for you back home, soldier?”

I shook my head. No, I didn’t. And everyone knew it too.

Since I turned twenty, my entire life had been dedicated to school and military life. Even before then, as a child my dad uprooted us from place to place. Mission to mission. That’s how we always lived, so I tried my best to not get too hung up on any one particular place. Ultimately following in his footsteps and enlisting the moment I became of age. It’s like everywhere I went I had a label on my back that said ‘My dad was KIA, and I’ll serve until I am too.’

I’d made no real friends since I landed here anyway, so packing up and leaving now or in a week wouldn’t really make much of a difference in the end.

“Right sir, I’ll be packed within the hour.” I turned my back to him with a nod and scooped the rest of the spoiled papers in my arms.

“Good on you nurse,” He praised and it did little to settle the nerves that always followed being sent to a new unknown place. “Heli leaves at eighteen hundred.”

By helicopter? That’s a new one at least.

An hour later I stood at the edge of the heli pad packed to the brim- watching the black mass fade in from the far west of the sky, the sun glaring almost mockingly above it. As if the helicopter was a manifestation of my unescaped impending doom. A missile honed directly to me.

The duffle bag I shouldered grew heavier as it landed, attempting to root me to the spot. I was handed a pair of gray headphones and shoved up onto the machine. I pressed the hanging mic up to my lip and strapped in behind the pilot, facing outwards towards the doors of the tiny metal thing. A large window curved from my side directly overhead. There was only really enough room for the three of us and what little equipment I was allowed to bring. Although I was promised I could take inventory and order any additional nessecities, honestly I wouldn’t know where to really start.

“Evening boys.” I greeted, and was met with only nods in response. Great.

The blades hadn’t even been given a moment to slow down before we hauled off the ground and into the air- dust cropped up and swirled around us until we were almost level with the low hanging clouds. They were as dark and gray as the machine we flew. The metal blades thumped about as loud as my heart, and I did my best to settle into my seat, deciding to focus on the shrinking base below.

I eyed my bags tied tightly against the net on the walls, hoping I didn’t forget anything. My entire life was practically stuffed into those two bags- one being 80% emergency medical equipment said a lot I think. The photo bound tightly in the breast pocket of my vest burned hot- I itched to take it out but didn’t trust my fingers enough not to drop it right out into the air.

I sighed and threw my head back, maybe I could get some rest in at least.

____________

“T-3 Minutes until landing.” Chatter in my ears over the radio roused me from my head. I hadn’t been able to sleep- given I just spent the last two hours strapped in a fucking helicopter, but I was able to daydream and rest a bit.

The sky had turned a pretty gradient of orange and pink as we neared the new base. Light beamed through the breaks in the clouds. We were in the desert from what I could tell, dunes resided on either side of the starch brown compound below, almost letting it blend in completely with the scenery. If we weren’t directly above it, I don’t think it’d be too noticeable from anywhere on the ground.

Save the fact that I knew we were facing east, I had no clear idea where we even were. Hopefully I’ll be briefed upon landing.

I tore off the straps of my harness when the heli touched ground, and tossed the headset on the seat as I left- making sure to grab both of my bags before jumping down. My cropped hair bit against my face as the blades continued to whir above me.

Two men approached the edge of the pad, the tip of their boots not having even touched the yellow caution paint before the helicopter lifted itself up into the air again. I watched for a moment as it buzzed over us and into the darkening clouds.

“Private nurse Mack?” One of the men shouted and I turned to face them, pushing a hard look onto my face, the grip I had on my straps tightened significantly. I could see my knuckles turn white from the pressure. Okay new base, don’t fuck up, don’t fuck up. My own personal mantra replayed in my head as we took long strides towards each other.

“Evening gentlemen.” I raised my voice, as if it made me sound anymore sure. “Heard you boys needed some help.” I motioned to the large red medic badge on my shoulder.

“Aye, I’ll be the first to admit it, that we do.” The shorter one with the Scottish accent rang out, though they both stood impeding over my own frame.

“We’ve got ourselves into a bit of a predicament.” The other man began, he was slightly larger then the first, with scruffy facial hair and a worn cap that’s definitely seen better days.

“Captain Price,” He motioned to the other man beside him- the one that addressed me first. “That’s Soap.”

I nodded and fell into step between them when they turned, following as they headed into the large sandy building. We stepped through a series of doors before we ended up in what looked like a makeshift infirmary- a handful of cots lined the walls with no real space between any of them. More importantly men atop the dirty and stained beds, some even sat on the floor nearest the entrance.

“Forgive us if we skip the formalities, lass.” The scot voiced, Soap. “‘Y’have yer kit with ya?”

I swung my unessacey shit off first- the bag filled with uniform briefs and clothes mostly, lost in whatever corner of the room that was unaccompanied. Unstrapping my suture kit I approached the closest bed to me.

“What the hell happened here?” I almost shouted over the groaning and muttering that filled the room. A quick glance told me around ten or so men filled out the little space. The man sprawled across the bed in front of me clutched at his bicep. Blood seeping through the wet rag he held against the wound as dripped down his fingers.

Soap approached my side and watched as I snapped on some rubber gloves from the bag attached to my waistband belt.

“Joint mission, we were regrouping with members of KORTAC when they were ambushed.” Price stated- a practiced calm behind his words. He said it as if it were any normal Wednesday night.

I gave him a curt nod and tried not to panic much, but being thrown into a room full of wounded men within only minutes of landing at a new base I didn’t even know existed this morning- it’s safe to say my nerves were beginning to get fried. I took a deep breath, the details aren’t really that important. I was here to help, so I’d focus on doing just that.

“Thankfully there were no casualties, just a small group of bloody nobodies.” Soap pulled over a trash bin from behind him and set it near me, I gave him a quick smile as thanks. He had a kind look on his face, a small scar rested below his bottom lip and his shaved Mohawk didn’t really do him much justice, but he didn’t seem that intimidating in this light. Should fate grant me a longer stay here- I don’t think I’d mind getting to know him a bit more.

Shifting my focus from Soap, I pulled back the bloody rag from the man on the cot’s shoulder and tossed it into the bin. Then wiped his arm down with a sterile alcohol pad. A gangly gash sat red and bright against his pale skin, a bullet must have torn straight through his uniform. “Just an ugly graze soldier, you’ll be alright.”

He grunted and rolled onto his side so I could treat him better, so I pulled out a disposable suture kit from my bag and got to work. Doing my best to remember to prioritize, I glanced between Price- who moved back to the entrance of the room, seemingly not wanting to get involved, and Soap still at my side.

“Life-altering patients first,” I shouted to the room, “If you can move- help the injured onto beds, and if you’re not bleeding to death go start a line in the hall.”

It took a good minute and a hard glare from Soap for the men to start moving, but soon there were only three others in the room with us. Though he stayed longer than Price, and did his best to assist me with two particularly nasty stab wounds; he decided to call it.

“That’s all I got in me nurse, hell’s bells, I can’t imagine how you’d do this all day.” He said as he left. I thanked him for his help but ultimately was more grateful that he left me alone with my work- his general presence was intimidating enough, I didn’t want to screw up on the first day under his supervision. So with another deep breath I eventually saw everyone who was involved in the ambush, and crashed against the steel table in the back of the room. Eyes closed the moment my head hit my arms, gloves still on and everything.

It wasn’t until a good minute or so that I rose back up and took a look around the room again. A mess greeted me, as per usual. My fingers ached and my shoulders screamed at me, but I spent the next hour piling dirty linens and rags into one corner, and moping up what I could of dried blood and mud into another. What I wouldn’t give for a warm bath right about now. Though I’ve had worse days in the ICU for sure, this one definitely got close to topping the cake. I was even more thankful for Soap’s help after the fact. Maybe I could sneak him an extra MRE next time we came across each other as thanks.

If he was the only one who’d stayed to assist, I wondered if they had anyone here at base who was properly medically trained. Given I’m not a licensed doctor or anything, but who was the last person in charge of their medical needs? Or rather.. what happened to them if they did have one?

The entrance to the door creaked open behind me, and I pulled myself from my thoughts, leaning on the mop handle for extra support. My eyes were drooping from exhaustion, and it took them a moment to focus.

“You are cleaning?” A soft voice spoke, something I did not expect to hear from the man who graced the doorway. His frame was hunched over slightly, a hand under the hood that hung over his face, two piercing blue eyes stuck out starch against the torn holes that stared directly through me.

It took a second for me to realize the voice belonged to him, and not some other stranger hidden behind his large figure.

“Uh, yeah.” I sighed, “Someone’s got to, right?”

He had no response and instead stared blankly at me through his mask like a statue- unmoving.

“Uhm.” I began again, “Do you need medical assistance?” I tried to say as calmly and invitingly as I could. Though I couldn’t see his face, by his body language alone it seemed as if he would turn and leave with any wrong movement.

He stayed as he was and watched me while drained the dirty bucket and put the mop back into the closet I originally found them from.

“I thought perhaps I could do it myself, but..” he trailed off and guestured up to his face with a point from his elbow.

I put on a fresh pair of gloves and sat on the edge of an empty cot.

“Do what yourself?”

He took a step forward and glanced from me back to the door. Letting a little ‘uhh’ cross his lips. Ultimately settling on twisting the deadlock shut on the door. My heart leaped in my chest and I instinctively stood and inched my way back to the steel desk.

He caught on quickly and immediately held both of his hands up in front of him, slightly crouching as to appear less intimidating.

“Ah please, I just do not want anyone to see.” He waved a hand in front of his face and tangled his fingers at the bottom of the cloth that hung over his entire head- held up only by the helmet he wore. With another wary look towards the door- as if someone would burst in at any moment- he lifted the mask just enough for me to see a long stripe of red from the tip of his jaw down to his collarbone, disappearing under the collar of his shirt.

My mouth went dry as our eyes met again.

Okay, Mr.Mountian of a man just needs some help. That’s all. I let a wary glance of my own settle over the lock on the door before turning to grab a first aid kit and some more sanitary wipes. My back was to him, but I nodded my head over to a cot- “Have a seat.”

After grabbing what I needed onto a tray and rolling it over, I stood infront of him. Even as he sat we were practically eye to eye still. I cleared my throat, trying to calm my nerves from under the uneasiness of his stare. It felt like he noticed every twitch of my fingers and any little movement I made, any inch of exustion I had disappearing with a rush of adrenaline from being locked in a room with a six-foot-something man.

He lifted his mask again just enough so I could clearly see the wound we were working with. It wasn’t very deep- and It looked like he tried to superglue it shut himself, but there were still spots where I could see the blood bead up through. His jaw had some stubble on it, like he hadn’t shaved in a week or so.

“It’s cleaner then some of the cuts I’ve seen today.” I spoke, doing my best to ease the tension that settled thickly over the two of us. The tiny room felt somehow smaller under his gaze. His body and presence took up so much space that it was nearly suffocating.

He only hummed in response. I dabbed some alcohol on a cotton pad and wiped it against his face as gently as I could, if it hurt he did a good job of hiding the pain. Only the back of his jaw clenched when he grinded his teeth together, eyes now anywhere but mine.

I placed my other hand against the other cheek, angling his head towards me a bit more and he stiffened underneath me. His body going as rigid as the cold metal gear he wore.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled and I could see his eyes twitch over to my face.

“If it hurts I mean.”

“I- I am alright.” His lips were chapped and his teeth clacked harshly against each other when he snapped his mouth shut again, as if he regretted speaking.

There was a beat of silence before I spoke again, “What’s your name? I’m Mack, though everyone seems to just call me Nurse.” I chuckled dryly.

His eyes didn’t leave my face this time, and I began to sweat under his watch. I sounded like an idiot to even myself. He just came here to get patched up, why do I ever bother with the small talk. I’d most likely be gone or replaced within the month anyway. He hissed under a particularly sensitive spot at the base of his neck and I immediately apologized, reaching for a clean cotton swab.

“König. That is what they call me.” His accent was thicker this time he spoke, gently cursing in some German dialect when the cut started to bleed again from all my prodding.

“Well König,” I repeated, “you did a good job of cleaning this up yourself.” The grip on his mask loosened and fell below his lips as he settled on the cot a bit more comfortably, and I praised myself for my smooth patient talk. It didn’t take me very long to finish wiping him down and stop any bleeding, I made quick work of setting a bandage over the deeper parts of his cut. Only a slight bit stayed exposed on the parts where the skin moved too much for me to cover it properly.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take another look when we change the bandages again. Just to make sure it doesn’t reopen, but I don’t think you’ll need any stitches.” He dropped the cloth and let it settle down over his face and neck fully again, eyes boring directly through mine as I spoke.

He nodded with me, “Yes. Then I will see you tomorrow morning.”

He rose up into his towering form again and made his way over to the door- snapping it unlocked once more.

“Sure.” I agreed, tossing the bloody cotton pads into the bin. “Tomorrow morning könig.” And the door clicked shut behind him before I could even turn to watch him leave.

The uneasy feeling continued to sit at the bottom of my stomach as I picked up my bags again. Their weight was ten times heavier as I left the small room and wandered back out into the main hallway. In all honesty I didn’t even know if I would be here in the morning, though it was apparent after today that this little band of soldiers needed some official medical assistance. Wether or not I was the best person for that job.. well who’s to really say.

Soap was in the hall as I left, leaning lazily against the opposite wall from the door. I turned to pull it close and met his eyes. He had more color to his face now then he did a few hours ago, maybe he was squeamish around blood? No, there’s no way.

“Hey.” He greeted.

“Hey yourself.” I joined his side, “Thanks for your help earlier, by the way.”

“‘Course newbie.” He turned to face the end of the hallway and waved for me to follow.

“Newbie? What happened to Private nurse Mack.”

“Too long. Plus everyone’s the new guy at one point.”

I hummed in response, and he lead me back out through the main entrance.

“Cafeteria’s through there- always stocked so feel free to eat whenever. Sleeping barracks are this way.” It was dark outside now, and the clouds still hung so thickly over the sky I couldn’t see any stars. Out only light from the few floodlights that were scattered randomly around the compound.

“So when do I get a cool nickname? Or will it be lame too.”

“Lame?”

“Soap?” I countered.

“Johnny.” He corrected.

“No you’re right, Soap sounds cooler.” He scoffed and I bit my lip to force the smile down. At least someone here could make good banter.

“You’ll fit in well here newbie.” He redirected us towards another sand colored building. I recognized a couple of the men I treated earlier hanging around the front entrance. It looked like there was only one door in. Their eyes watched us as we passed through, a couple whispers making their way around in groups.

“Don’t mind ‘em.” Soap had leaned over to mutter in my ear, his warm breath cascaded down my neck and I hadn’t realized how cold it’d gotten in the dark. I hummed again- not trusting my voice to speak any coherent words.

“This is you.” He pointed to a steel door sat at the very back of a long hallway. The numbers ‘21’ written in bold white letters above it. He could read the uneasiness that found it’s way over my face, and I hated how simple a read I was. Maybe I should don a balaclava like everyone else around here. “Something the matter, bonnie?”

“Oh, no.” I turned to him and hadn’t realized how close he really was in the dark and cramped hall. I could almost smell his aftershave, he probably dipped on me earlier to shower, though I couldn’t really blame him. I must’ve looked like a mess currently, so after a shower myself I was headed straight to bed.

“Honestly it’s just been a while since I’d stayed in coed housing.” The door opened with a creak, but I was relieved to see only one twin sized cot. At the least I wouldn’t be rooming with anybody.

He nodded in understanding, “Well if you run into any issues, I’m just over there.” He jutted his thumb back to a door labeled ‘19’.

“20 up are mostly empty anyway, those are the overflow rooms.” He paused and glanced around the hallway at all the doors. “Though with the men from KORTAC dirtying our plates, I’m afraid ‘tis fuller than usual.”

I let out what must’ve been my hundredth sigh for the day and nodded.

“Thanks Soap, again I appreciate it.” The bright dorky smile that adorned his face helped ease my nerves. I stepped over the threshold of the room and turned back to him, one hand on the edge of the door. He leaned against the frame casually, hands in his pockets.

“It’s nothing. Sleep well, lass.” He turned to leave.

“Oh hey,” he stopped me once more just before I shut the door. “If you’re feeling up to it a couple of the lads and I are going for a run in the morning- ‘round 0400 or so.”

He shrugged, “Could be a good bonding experience, or y’know maybe we’ll think up a cooler nickname then Nurse.”

“Cooler than Soap?”

“Extremely.”

I chuckled and let the door close as he turned again, watching him disappear down the hall.

Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad finding a reason to stay in one spot for a bit longer after all.

_________

AYOO look I know what this looks like… but It’s NOT a Soap fic I SWEAR. I just adore my babygirl so much you know I had to do it to em. Unless you guys are into a multi-ship fanfic centered around the same MC? Lemme know what you think.

Also crossposted on Ao3 under ‘WeaperReaper’

Anyway more Konig content in the next part, pinkey promise.

[skele-bunny]

Can you talk more about quintessence ghouls? Just anything about them please

Hell yeah!! Long post bc I'm gonna ramble for a HOT minute

There's a whole variety of abilities quints can do. There's common ones such as: Mind Manipulation, Object Formation, and various levels of healing.

Some rarer abilities being: Possessors, Clairvoyance, and Ether Destruction

All Quint's do have the ability to heal, but it depends on their main ability and how much it takes over their process!

Enki (era 2) is a mind manipulator, which gives him more access to healing! He's able to project himself both into the mind and body, and where to locate issues. It's also easier for him to do thinks like quint intox, manipulate someone to his will, and break someone mentally. High healing varient

Omega has a mixture of object formation and bodily destruction. He can create temporary life forms or conjures. While with ether destruction he can bend other's souls and life forms, essentially killing them slowly. Despite this, in medical work, he's able to use his object formation for temporary fixes like quick casts or stitches! High healing varient

Aether has the ability of object formation. He's extremely proficient at life forms, mimicks, or even barriers if needed! One of his personal things is making spiders and fireflies for Dewdrop just to see him smile. Like Omega, he can use this for temporary medical work. Medium healing varient

Sarra (era 1) is a possessor with minor clairvoyance. Able to link with those deceased and become a vessel for them, or take over (wether by force or consent) another's whole body and mind. While it does give the perks of using that souls abilities as his own, it's a very heavy ability to have, which leaves him both exhausted constantly and susceptible to harm as he holds onto the spirits he allows in. He's able to use his clairvoyance for long future insight. Low healing varient

Phantom is a possessor. He doesn't know how to control or access it yet, but when he does and just like Sarra, he's susceptible to harm and constant exhaustion. When he does get the control of it, he's more of an open doorway to connect rather than using them. Has taken over a few Siblings to do things for him like chores, other than that, he just stays curious but too nervous to act it out. None-low healing varient

Delta after their transition only received partial mind manipulation. They're more in tune to link into someone to hear their thoughts or their current mental state. Other than that, they're still majority water.

Super shiny and decorated if not their horns and hair, then piercings and jewelry/clothing accessories. They're big on wind chimes, beads, and crystals.

They can read tarot cards very well and it's part of their morning routines. Don't always have to, but some like to be aware of what their day will be like or assistance for a problem.

Biiiggg on astral projections and meditation. Not only does it let them recharge their social and internal battery, it allows them just.... A break. A moment to step away from the current world.

Quintessence ghouls are more likely seen in the emergency department and surgical! Waters are seen for ICU and L&D, Earths in pharmacy/anesthesiologists, Air for physical therapy, and Fires with imaging & radiology. There's a mixture and no designation when it comes to regular appointments or visits, but there's a higher quantity of quints then other elements in medical settings.

They're big on trading as well, even topside. Prefer not to use money given to them inside the abbey if they can avoid it when it comes to acquiring things.

Book nerds. Straight. Nerds.

Majority of them have glasses as they can't read small prints, and are more likely to have large handwriting. Also yes, they have the doctor type of handwriting.

If they have high energy they can accidentally shock people that touch them. They're also more likely to smell like electrical appliances and metal! Very "silver" scents.

Quints are more likely to get along with earths as they have a very long history together, even in the pits. Earths are extremely susceptible to death if they experienced a leg break (hooves!) as they don't have a strong immune system to wade off infections and thus weaker healing. Quints were their saving graces that avoided a lot of death, in return of a permanent trading system. Their environments were very close to each other, as well!

Quints that die who are vengeful/don't feel completed are more likely to haunt than other elements. Poltergeist type, and they're fucking angry. Possessors can either rid of them into purgatory (which is a damnation, essentially) or pull them into their hold which is negatively looked at. That's why it's so important Possessors can control themselves and manage their door open/closed at will.

Curses and blessings galore! Wether in the form of sigils, casts, or items—they have something for anything. Oh, want a fertility boost? There's a cast for that. Oh, need to know if your mate is harmed? There's a sigil for that. Oh, want something for protection? There's an object for that.

GGAHHH I just think they're super ritualistic. Very in tune with bodies, death, and life. They take their practices very sacred and consider it treason for those to use their abilities to purposely harm others for anything other than defending purposes.

They ESPECIALLY hate it when their sigils/casts are manipulated from their original intention to cause harm.

Like a protection sigil being manipulated to a possessive sigil. Intent matters so much to them broo

[coffeecat1983]

The Stars (Aren't the Same Without You) Mario movie AU (death warning)

A blackout had hit the city, leaving the once bright, vibrant buildings dark. It was late, nearly eleven at night and the streets were quiet in the Brooklyn neighborhood, most opting to stay in with the glow of flashlights, candles, and cellphone screens as long as they stayed charged up. At one building the rooftop door opened, and a lone figure walked out. His dark brown hair was lightly ruffled by the breeze as he put his hands in his pockets and stared up at the clear sky. With the city lights gone, the stars shone brightly along with the crescent moon, twinkling diamonds set in a cloak of the darkest blue. The sight matched the warm sweater Luigi was wearing, a gift from Mario. The stars on it had little eyes and they looked out on the world around them. Moving over to the bench he sat down, sighing as he swallowed hard. He had hoped coming up here wouldn't bring those old memories, but they burst into his mind in a violent flood of emotion…

"Aw the power's out!" eight-year-old Mario pouted, dropping his Nintendo controller. Luigi was behind him up on the bunk bed, clutching a pillow. A light bounced down the hall and their mother's voice reached them.

"Boys? Are you okay?" she pushed the door open, her concerned eyes immediately on her sons. "Yeah, but we can't play!" Mario said. "And it's so dark." Luigi whimpered.

Coming in, Marianna sat on the bed and put her arm around Luigi. Mario got up on her other side, still sulking and grumbling about 'nothing to do'. "Now c'mon, I know it's no fun being in the dark but there is something we can do." she said with a smile. "Get your coats and shoes on." More curious than confused, the bros did as she asked and followed her out of the apartment and up to the roof. Guiding them to the center, she kneeled. "Now, look up." Both did and were stunned. With the lights from the city gone, the stars stood out in the sky. "Wow…" Luigi breathed softly. "Whenever the lights go out and the weather's good, you can see the stars up here." she said. Marianna then began pointing out the big and little dippers and the north star. Luigi, still a little nervous from the blackout, held tightly to Mario's hand as they looked up. Feeling his twin's fingers around his own brought comfort and he relaxed, taking in the view. "Mario, how many stars are there?" he asked softly. "There's gotta be bajillions of em! Bet there's other worlds, too. And I wanna see em!" Luigi thought about it. "Can I come too, when you see em?" Mario laughed. "Yeah! You gotta come with!"

Another memory took over, squeezing the very breath from Luigi's lungs…

The buzz of the hospital was blocked by the heavy sliding glass doors in the ICU. Luigi sat by the bedside and watched Mario as he slept. His face was pale, his breathing labored.

There had been an accident at the wrecking site. They had been working up on the second floor, tearing out old, leaking plumbing when the water warped floor gave way. Luigi managed to jump and roll aside but Mario had been right in the center as it gave out. Heavy flooring, metal, and pipes crashed down on the older twin. They had managed to dig him out and he was rushed to the hospital, but doctors didn't have much hope. Mario stirred, weary blue eyes meeting Luigi's. Weak fingers tried to squeeze his little brother's hand as his eyes closed again. "Weege…"he mumbled, "I…I can see the stars." he breathed out, growing still.

Luigi wrapped his arms around himself, tears falling onto his sleeves as he cried. He didn't hear the rooftop door open and the footsteps until his mother was beside him, loving arms pulling him into a warm embrace. "I miss him, Ma. I miss him so much!" "I know, sweetheart," she said softly, "I do, too." He shuddered as he wept. "The stars aren't the same without him."

By "CC"

Inspired by this artwork, with warm thanks to @fungalfalls

[kamyru]

The blood on my hands scares me to death (Toshiki Kasumi, Munechika Takado & Sentaro Kyogoku) (Shorts)

This is for @voltagefandomproject

TW: Mention of death, losing patients and suicide

Toshiki Kasumi

Words counting: 300

Dr. Kasumi closed the door of his office and put away his jacket. He wanted to relax but couldn't. So, he walked in circles in his office, trying to be as discrete as possible and not make enough noise to be heard by his colleagues from ICU. He sat on his seat, then stood up the next second. Dr. Kasumi didn't remember checking if he closed to door with the key. He had to go and do it.

The moment the cardiologist's hands touched the knob, he froze. The metal didn't feel cold. It was warm, nearly as warm as a living human. No, no, no! Toshiki Kasumi couldn't stand it. Minutes ago, he met his best friend's parents at his grave. "If it's not the Angel of Death," they said to him. Kasumi couldn't see it, but he could feel it: the blood on his hands. He had to do something about it. Where was the sink? WHERE WAS THE DAMN SINK?

The head of EICU tried to open the door, but it was locked. The beautiful man nearly broke down the door while trying to escape his asphyxiating room. He could swear that the blood of his dead patients hit his face but couldn't do anything about it when his hands were dirty.

"It's today," Dr. Takado whispered when he saw his boss rushing from his office to the bathroom in the on-call room. He froze with his eyes on the door. His lips got as thin as a needle. One, two, five, ten minutes passed, and Dr. Kasumi returned. The orthopedist's eyes traveled from his face to his hands. They were red and with a rash. The same happened the last year and the year before the last. And would probably happen the next one too.

Munechika Takado

Words counting: 370

Dr. Takado opened his eyes and threw aside the blanket he messily put over himself two hours ago. Why did he go home when his entire life was in the hospital? He didn't do enough yet again. Where did he leave his car keys? At least he was smart enough not to get in his home clothes. Dr. Takado didn't have a home. He had no right to own one after all he did. His money was made out of blood, flesh, and tears. He didn't have the right to use them.

The head of the EICU let out a sigh when he heard the door of the headquarters opening and closing loudly, followed by heavy steps. He didn't need to leave his office to know that the doctor who had left less than three hours ago was back. However, he stopped writing when he heard a barely audible mumble from the other room. When he got closer to the door, the words became clear enough to be understood.

"Where did I put the patient's file."

After another minute, Takado planted himself in one of the multitudes of empty seats, surrounded by textbooks, papers from the file, and a running computer. He had to know if there was a way to save the patient's diabetic foot attacked by gangrene. What if, a few hours before the surgery, someone discovered a way to save them? What if he missed a "Nota Bene" from his textbooks that said the recovery without the amputation was higher than he had thought?

But no, it was just like Dr. Takado knew. The amputation was imminent. He left the office and walked away while looking at his hands. The orthopedist was thought to be one of the best in Japan, and even in the world. However, the number of limbs he cut off was too high to make him proud. Why his bloody hands were still on their places while kids had to learn to walk with no legs?

"The safety nets on the roof aren't put there only for the patients," Dr. Ekuni wrote on his board, covered his face with his arm, and tried to get enough sleep for both him and Dr. Takado.

Sentaro Kyogoku

Words counting: 271

CPR on kids is made with only one hand pressed in the middle of their chest. The frequency of the compresses has to be around 100-120 and their depth between 4-5 cm.

Dr. Sen was used to performing CPR so much that he could last around ten minutes without being replaced by someone else. He was more than sure that he could last twice that time. Though, he couldn't confirm it, being surrounded by empathetic and well-taught colleagues.

But there was one thing about CPR Dr. Sentaro Kyogoku couldn't get used to - stopping it for declaring the moment of death.

It was ten minutes since the pediatrician fell on his knees in front of the child he had tried his best to save from cancer for more than a year. Ten minutes since he tried to convince the God he didn't believe in, to give their soul back. Dr. Sen failed this time, like many others. He wouldn't hear the kid complaining about chest pain in the morning. However, he would hear the sound of their ribs contracting while trying to fall asleep for two hours.

People had told Sentaro Kyogoku that he looked like an angel, and unlike Kasumi, they didn't add "of death" afterward. But of what use were their words if he couldn't save every child in the world from suffering? Of what use was his face when he was losing five patients a day?

The latex on Dr. Sen's hands stopped him from feeling the warmth living in the kid's body. And now that it was gone, it was no use because the warmth also disappeared.

[siristaci]

This got really long, so it's going under a read more. It's about the potential death of an ex-family member (after finding out about a recent heart attack) and briefly mentions suspected abusive behavior.

My not-uncle-anymore R (ex-husband of my aunt J) is in the hospital. He had a heart attack two days ago. I found out yesterday. I was told he hadn't woken up yet.

He has a pacemaker, so they can't do scans*. They were supposed to do a test yesterday (something about wires on his head) and we were supposed to get the results in the evening. Apparently there is an increase in heart rate when music is played or people are speaking.

I haven't heard anything since yesterday afternoon outside of J's fb post (posted shortly after they were supposed to get the results) that said "(my cousin's) dad had a heart attack yesterday afternoon. He was taken by ambulance to the ICU. He hasn't woken up, his brain activity is almost nothing, he is on a ventilator and has developed some other complications."

My feelings on all of this are... very complicated.

J and R got married when I was about 13. They both already had many other children (nearly all boys) before getting married, and had one boy (the cousin previously mentioned) together during their marriage. Then they got divorced when I was about 21. It's been a little over 10 years since then.

I first met R at the reception. He found out I liked LOTR and showed me his Sting letter opener. He was into heavy metal. I thought he was incredibly cool.

We really only saw each other at family gatherings, and- due to us both being black sheep of the family- quickly became the other person's "I'm only going if (the other one) is going to be there." He introduced me to Twisted Sister's Twisted Christmas album. Which is one of only two Christmas albums I'll still listen to. He was so fun. I thought it was great that there was someone of an older generation that I really got along with.

But there's a reason J and R got divorced. I don't really know what. I've asked three times and gotten different answers each time.

The first time, I was told by my mom that it was because they just couldn't agree on how to raise their kids. In a tone that told me to not ask questions. I was raised mormon, so I was very good at not asking questions. For a while.

The second time, I was told that he was... very physical and overdid it when disciplining the kids. Supposedly, they got pretty hurt on more than one occasion. J obviously wasn't comfortable talking about it, so I didn't push for more information.

The third time, I was told that he wasn't abusive, he was just too immature. Maybe he'd roughhoused a little too rough with the boys a few times, and they'd gotten hurt, but it wasn't intentional or out of anger. J had decided that he was just too childish to be a dad to her kids. She still wasn't very comfortable talking about it, but assured me that he wasn't evil or anything.

I stayed fb friends with him for a few years. He mostly talked about going to metal concerts and the company he worked for that was trying to get more metal bands signed with record labels.

And then politics became something that everyone was talking about. Suddenly, R started posting more and more about the first and second amendments. Posted lots of pictures of the American flag. The term "snowflakes" was used whenever he talked about how ungrateful and soft young people are nowadays.

I quietly unfriended him and haven't spoken to him since.

I still have fond memories of R. I was sad to find out that he wasn't as great as I'd thought he was. And even sadder when (it seemed) he changed into a right-wing asshole. I know that I don't have the whole story. All I really have are the memories of him, and I really like the ones from when he and J were married.

I also know that my cousin hasn't chosen to see his dad in two years; something that could be influenced by distance, just being a teenager, or not getting along with the brothers that live with his dad. Or it could be that he doesn't want to see his abusive father.

There isn't really a point to this post. I guess I'm just getting all of my feelings out in preparation, since it seems he isn't likely to recover. I honestly don't even know what I'm hoping for- if I'm hoping for anything. I know I'll mourn the loss of life, even if I've been mourning the loss of that soul for a decade.

*Everything I'm told about this comes from my mom, who gets it from her sister, who gets it from her son, so it's quite the game of telephone and at least one of them don't regard science highly, so I don't have the proper medical terms and I very likely don't have all the information I'd get if I were speaking to a doctor directly.

[tarisilmarwen]

Whumptober 2023 - "Tokyo Blue Rose"

(Yep, more fic from the Re.alization Fix-Fic universe. I am not hurting Inaho this time though, lol.

Prompts used:

No. 20 "People don't change people, time does": Blanket/Found Family/"You will regret touching them."

Alt. 5 Body Modification.)

---

She stared through the glass numbly, looking in on the ICU recovery room.

They'd put Inaho in a medically-induced coma for his recovery. Asseylum could see the thick bandages wrapped around his head, over his left eye, and burned with grief at the sight.

She watched his chest rise and fall, trembling with anger and guilt and shame.

She had done this. By being selfish and choosing the boy she loved over her friend, she had condemned Inaho to months of torture and hell at the hands of one of her own Martian Knights, condemned so many of their pilots to a brutal and swift end at the hands of Inaho's remote-guided Tharsis.

There hadn't been time, Yuki had assured her, over and over. You had to make a choice.

She'd made her choice. And she'd hated it. And hated herself for it.

Even more so now.

By her side, her fist clenched tightly. Her lip trembled, heat threatening to well up in her eyes.

She wished Slaine were there, to put his warm hands on her shoulders, slip his fingers into hers. Make her feel less awful.

She tugged on the connection between them, reached out through the Ea that entwined them, and felt an automatic and instinctive reassuring mental touch back. It was enough.

She inhaled slowly, forcing herself to turn away from the window. Her mind replayed the rescue, all the horrible details playing fresh against her eyes. The dark control room where he'd been stored. The wires plugged into his head. His shrieking as the Versian AI took control of him.

The door on the far side of the hallway opened with a metal clatter. Asseylum looked up to see Inko trotting through, a heavy folded blanket clutched in her arms.

The other girl stopped awkwardly. "Oh! Princess!" She hesitated for a moment, clearly wrestling with whether or not to curtsy.

Asseylum smiled ruefully, expression warm. They had dispensed with such formalities months ago.

After a moment Inko shook herself. "How is he?" she asked anxiously, as she came up to the window.

Asseylum swallowed back a bitter pill of anger, dropping her eyes towards the floor. "Stable," she said. "They were able to remove nearly all of the implant."

"Mmm," Inko just hummed, looking through the observation window with wan, worried eyes.

The princess raised her head, and pointed at the bundle in Inko's arms. "What's that?" she asked.

"Huh?" Already deep in her distracted thoughts, Inko blinked in confusion. "Oh!" she exclaimed, her brain catching up. She held up the thick folded cloth. "It's... it's his favorite blanket," she explained, her voice beginning to tighten as she spoke. "Lieutenant Marito let the 34th Unit sneak me into Shin-awara so I could go find it." Her hands were clenching into its soft folds, Inko's gaze growing distant and unreachable. "He's never liked the texture of hospital linens so I thought... something from home might..."

She trailed off, gasping shortly for breath and composure, almost warbling by the last words, and Asseylum's heart wrenched for her. She and Inko had grown quite close in the months since the disastrous attack on Saazbaum's landing castle. Asseylum counted her now as one of her dearest friends, closer than a sister. She looked at Inko and saw her like a mirror image of herself, intimately understanding her uncertainty, acquainted with her pain. Inko's feelings for Inaho were painfully obvious, her devotion to him as deep and as strong as Asseylum's for Slaine, even without the tether of a literal soulbond connecting them.

It was a minor miracle Inko didn't hate her, for the choice she had made on the landing castle.

Asseylum offered a thin smile, and pinched, encouraging eyes. "Ah, I see." They stood in silence a moment and then Asseylum urged, "Go on, I think the doctors will let you in."

Inko didn't need to be told twice, clutching the blanket to her chest and rushing stiffly towards the ICU doors.

Asseylum's smile faded, anger pulling at her again as she watched Inko speak with the head surgeon, watched her be allowed into the recovery room and hesitantly approach the sleeping boy on the bed.

Gripping her fists, she turned on her heel, and stalked with purpose out from the hospital wing of the base.

She visited her room first, pulling off the plain soft long-sleeve blue shirt and tan slacks that she regularly wore these days. She reached into her closest for her ruffled white dress. What she was planning to do required full formal Versian regalia.

She dressed swiftly, if struggling a little bit due to Eddelrittuo's absence. (Her handmaid had been put into a schooling course with a private tutor, and was busy being instructed in math and science and literature, which Asseylum of course made her share with her when they were reunited at the end of the day.)

She marched straight into OPS when she was finished, announcing her plan at once. The UEF military hierarchy was skeptical at first, but Marito backed her up—as she knew he would—and moments later Asseylum was sitting poised and composed in front of the cameras, preparing to deliver another announcement and wartime status report.

Her stomach fluttered nervously, hands shaking where they were clasped on the table, but Asseylum forced herself to be the perfect picture of grace and calm as the TV cameras were pointed towards her, a makeup girl powdering down her face.

This was her arena. And she would fight with the weapons she had, with her words and face, her ability to call to arms or cool tempers.

"All right, Your Highness," the man behind the camera told her. She nodded at the man, watched him count down the seconds on the hand he held aloft. "In three... two..."

She heard the cameras click on and knew she was being broadcast all across the UEF feeds, piped into the TVs of civilians across the globe, and even—they often hoped—reaching up to the moon base and the landing castles still in orbit.

She inhaled slowly, then launched into the speech she'd prepared.

"This is Asseylum Vers Allusia, Princess of Mars, true heir to the Versian throne," she began, reciting her standard greeting with firm authority. "I am coming to you live from UEF headquarters, with an update on the war efforts."

She paused a moment, gripping her hands together tighter.

"Two days ago, at approximately oh-seven-hundred-hours, I led a small team of insurgents on a covert mission to breach the moon base where the Versian traitors have dug in," she said. A little bit exaggerated from the truth, but her handlers had assured her all good propaganda had a bit of embellishment involved. "On that mission, we recovered the kataphrakt pilot Inaho Kaizuka, formerly presumed missing in action after the Battle of Novosibirsk."

Bile flooded her mouth, but she swallowed it down and continued, seamlessly.

"We believe Kaizuka was being used to remote-pilot the Tharsis, the flagship of the Versian invasion fleet, which has caused devastating losses to us in our fight to restore peace between Mars and Earth. He was not doing so willingly, but under extreme duress, as a prisoner of war."

She let the horror of that revelation settle for a moment before continuing.

"I urge any Knights still loyal to Count Saazbaum to answer honestly if they can tolerate the torture and imprisonment of a child, if they are willing to have that blemish on their names and tarnish their honor so, simply for the sake of continuing this pointless conflict."

The words came so naturally to her now. Before all of this, she could never have even conceived of calling out the men she'd thought loyal to her, to the throne, questioning their motives and character. The war had made her cynical, turned her hopeful calls for peace into bitter condemnations of her own men.

Her face stayed the same, even as the anger and despair and grief stormed inside her.

"Inaho... was my friend," she said. Her voice softened, and she had trouble looking into the camera instead of past it. "He was fearless, and clever, and fought bravely. Even though he was no older than me..." she trailed. Her momentary show of vulnerability was playing well to the audience, apparently, because the producer was gesturing at her urgently, letting her know someone on the Versian side of the conflict was listening.

Asseylum hardened her eyes and looked directly into the camera, as if she could see Saazbaum's face before her. She pictured his smug, disdainful smirk and addressed her next words directly to him.

"To those who had a hand in turning him into a weapon against our peace efforts, who mercilessly used him against his own people and friends..." Her eyes burned. "You will regret hurting him," she promised. "We will continue and redouble our efforts to end this war and arrest Count Saazbaum and any of his accomplices for his crimes against the Emperor and the Versian crown, against human decency itself," she declared. "Make no mistake; those who would do such horrible despicable things are no people of mine. They bring shame to themselves, and to Vers."

Her throat was starting to tighten, but she made herself speak the words with firm clarity.

"And they will face a reckoning."

She let that hang in the air for a few portent moments.

The producer gestured for the feed to be cut, and after a moment the cameraman complied, everyone sensing the broadcast was done.

Asseylum let out a heavy exhale, her palms turning flat upon the desk she sat behind. She tugged again on her bond with Slaine, felt his automatic response back, and couldn't hide the relief that she sent out, tingling, over their connection.

He was alive and whole—both her boys were, now, her soulmate and her friend, the one she loved and the one she had to sacrifice, and she thought she finally understood Rayet's desire for revenge, to hurt someone responsible for her pain, because all that comforted her now were pleasant thoughts of a bullet in Saazbaum's skull, for what he'd done to Inaho, to Slaine, to her, what he'd made her choose, what she'd had to scramble frantically to fix.

You did this, Princess, she heard him say like an echo inside her mind. You, not me.

Asseylum shuddered, and held back her tears, staying a perfect porcelain picture of composure even as she died inside once more.

The murmuring voices and shuffling in the room were background noise on her numb ears and senses as heavy, dark guilt gnawed her from the inside out.

[dominoblues]

I WANT TO BE A WORM CRAWLING INSIDE MOKUBA'S BRAIN AND STARE AT HIS THOUGHTS IN BLISS.

----

The KitKat bar is challenging him. He is sure of it. Looking at him behind the glass with a smug expression. Mocking him, making fun of him. I dare you to push the button. Fucking annoying. He redirects his attention to the row below. The small pack of Kopiko tells a different story altogether. It is begging him, watching him with pleading eyes to free it from the sorrow of the refrigerated prison. That KitKat asshole must have everyone under its thumb, ruling as a king over the microcosmic empire of snacks called FamilyMart. Well, fuck you KitKat.  

Mokuba inserts the coins in the slot (one cherry blossom, two phoenix hall) and presses the number ‘one’ followed by the ‘five’. The machine awakes from its sleep with a buzz. The metal coils of the prison rotate releasing the captive small pack which falls in the open compartment below. Finally, freedom. Mokuba grins victorious. He kneels and pushes the compartment door reaching for his cold prize. He shoots a last glance at the snack on the other side of the glass: emperor KitKat is raging, yet powerless. That doesn’t mean Mokuba has put a stop to his reign of terror. No, the moment he turns away KitKat will divert its rage and punishment to the other prisoners under his control. Well, nothing Mokuba can do about it. Goodbye asshole. Not my fucking problem.

He walks away from the vending machine and sinks on the closest bench in the white room, his body feeling understandably heavy because he hasn’t slept in ages. Like a true Kaiba. Fuck hospitals fuck doctors fuck my idiot brother laying semi-comatose upstairs. Again. For the second time. A cosmic wicked prank, that’s what their life is. Years pass seasons change and we are clinging in this fucked up eternal looped hoax of our misery stuck in the same immutable frozen truth over and over again. I hate you so much. I love you so much. I have been surviving just fine without you and I cannot live without you.

Mokuba leans his head compliantly against the wall, closes his eyes and lingers. Seconds, minutes, hours. It doesn’t matter. If he falls asleep, someone will come waking him up just in time for the bijillion things appointed on his daily to-do list he doesn’t even bother to check. As if he needed to. cfo at 9.00 meeting.meeting.meeting. industrial illusions ceo at 11.00. report to the board at 12.00 because those assholes wants to keep up with everything that’s going on like they give a shit about him and the other idiot because this machine for pigs cannot stop grinding and profits.profits.profits Marx was right.   

Mokuba lets out an exhausted sigh. He opens his eyes again and looks down at the Kopiko pack hanging from his fingers. He pulls it open and sticks his hand in to draw the small wrapped confectionary. Lunch break at 1.00 reports.reports.reports. r&d at 2.00 testing.testing.testing. He removes the thin paper and shoves the sweet block into his mouth whole. Released from a lifetime under dictatorship only for it to end its journey in a stinky toilet. Someone somewhere has written a philosophical essay about the meaning of life of FamilyMart snacks. The intense flavor of coffee melts in his palate. Mokuba’s eyes fixes on the white spotless ceramic tiles covering the floor of the small waiting room.

Seto woke up two days earlier in the ICU. He opened his eyes briefly. However, they soon had to administer an IV dose of morphine before he went into tachycardia. Doctors tried to cheer him up saying the response to pain was a good thing. YEAH LET ME TELL YOU A COUPLE OF THINGS ABOUT MY BROTHER’S PAIN, he wanted to yell. Not a word about the rest, though. It is still too early to know, mister Kaiba. He called Mokuba’s name. That must have been a good sign, right?

He had been comatose for sixteen days, fourteen hours and thirty-seven minutes after the surgery. Mokuba had been measuring the time painstakingly with the meticulous precision of an atomic clock because that’s exactly what Seto had been for two weeks: an idle mass of still particles and unreactive electrons at zero frequency of resonance and momentum debunking the entirety of Heisenberg's uncertainty principle; an immovable and immutable pile of flesh and tubes, lines and cables sticking out his nose, chest, stomach and bladder as an extension of his own starving emaciated body.

Yet, Mokuba thinks there’s something decorous and beautiful in his blissfully simulated sleep. Even in his resting state Seto is a fixed mark in the flow of time. Pale and inert like marble crystallized in the eternal beauty of a greek statue that would make Michelangelo blush in admiration and jealousy at his sight. Seto’s charming even in a coma, gorgeous and grotesque as something born simultaneously from the hands of a Canova and a Dalí. It horrifies him and it amazes him he can barely keep his eyes away from the lifeless cocoon.

He woke up then and he went back to sleep. Seto is now a pupa. The chrysalis will complete its transformation and Seto-imago will emerge from its shell at the conclusion of this metamorphosis. Will you still be the same will you be different will you still love me will you accept the pain that we are fucking broken and I don’t care about perfection I never wanted a flawless you I want you to accept me/us for who we are.

-----

(WIP)

[acid--inside]

so, for fat co/gs… share with us his chubby belly shape…. Is it a front spiller (big gut up front) bell shape (chub dropping front, sides and bigg butt) or… I don’t have a silly/cutesy name for all the above but some rounded thighs….

also, be a very soft belly or a more hard one?

last but not least- any stretch marks? If so, what does he think about them?

cposvre; THANK YOU THEYRE SO SPECIAL TO MEEE

its like... (HC's for all 4 of my boys under cut)

ch/ip - round all over, most of it collecting in his stomach, but still very fat - soft thighs and hips, thick arms, if he had a normal face he'd also have a double chin, could still totally fuck you up! Fat but super strong, could take a door off it's hinges. (most of the weight is stress eating | cute silvery stretchmarks all over, doesn't really care about them)

fl/int - really bottom heavy, real plush stomach, fat ass, wide hips, thick thighs, very cute (most of the weight comes from the fact he and gra/ham both like to cook | he's got stretchmarks that kinda look like a soft glowy orange, gra/ham thinks they're adorable and it flusters him (mostly on his ass, thighs and belly)

att/icus - kinda like ch/ip, round all over, but less athletic/strong, got fat as a form of healing, since he quit his bad job and moved away w/ his husband and son (probably has a kid w/ his husband and ends up being the one to have them. sleepy father | has like... soft blue metallic stretchmarks all over, but especially after having a kid most of them are on his stomach, somewhat fond of them bc they remind him he's happier now than at his old job)

bar/ry - also decently bottom heavy!! a very soft tummy but also the thighs and ass, his lap is a very nice spot to be but he's damned if he lets you sit there. (most of the weight is bc he's an old man who doesn't count or care about calories | has like... almost bronze colored stretchmarks, much like flint, they're mostly on his ass, thighs and belly, but he's also got some more weight up top too so some there, indifferent to them)

[syncopein3d]

From the same superhero universe as the fic, overheard between members of two different teams on a video call:

"We almost lost the old man last month. It was close."

"Wait, really? I thought Stentor was immortal."

"He's unaging, and he's a brick, but he can get hurt. We were fighting The Attractor, most of us were beat up real bad, and then she decides she's going to pull down a meteor big enough to flatten a building. She's tapped out after that, goes down easy, but that doesn't matter if we all get smashed. Then, when the big lug flies up there and goes to punch it, it turns out there's a metal core. He was just. Riddled with shrapnel from his own hit because the thing was traveling so damn fast. Denier managed to shield the rest of us, even though she was pretty badly concussed at that point and Caduceus was out of juice and couldn't heal. Poor guy was just prone. Couldn't even stand up.

"So Stentor lands, and his costume is torn up and he's bloody, but that's happened before. He goes around checking on everyone like it's no big deal. I'm the least bad off because, well, I just dodged everything. I can only just break the sound barrier, but usually it's enough. I help him get the Attractor into the Barnhardt containment unit. Thry drive her off. Then he turns to me and says,

"Everyone's going to live, aren't they, Skimmer?"

"Everyone is definitely going to live," I say. "You did good, big guy. I'll get Denier to the hospital so she can get an MRI, and Caduceus probably needs some time in his little white box, but we're going to make it."

He nods very seriously - never cracks a smile, this guy - and says, "That's good." Then he goes to sit against a wall, and if I hadn't seen him slump over from the corner of my eye I think he would've died. Right there. He had a punctured lung and a bunch of broken ribs and a six-inch spear of iron in his liver, the ER attending told me later. He was heavy as Hell, this guy weighs around two eighty, but I had him to Norman General in thirty seconds, and he was in surgery five minutes after that. He was in the ICU for three days before Caduceus was recovered enough to go fix him up."

"Why didn't he say something?"

"I asked him that when we were all in there telling him off afterwards. He said he didn't want to be a burden on anyone. 'It's my job to carry you, not yours to carry me,' that's what he said."

"Was he serious?"

"You don't know him. He's always serious. He would have died on the ground before he asked an injured teammate for help."

"That seems like something that needs to be addressed at some point."

"Yeah. I'm gonna go tell a Gen X-er that can bench press a submarine that he should maybe have his psych issues looked at. He's definitely going to listen to someone he regularly calls 'kid' about that."

"I'm just saying. He has the potential to take everyone else with him if he loses it."

"You think I don't know that? I don't know. I'll see what Denier thinks. She's older..."

[kalira]

reblogging with pictures! sorry for the length >.>

Amethyst kitsune

from @bekkathyst (who has beautiful stones and carvings; I've bought a number of things from her shop - including an obsidian pocket mirror, a palm-sized malachite point, and a small, smooth labradorite piece perfect for worrying that I keep on my worktable - and they're all lovely)

~

moon lamp

~

resin pendant with belladonna flowers

from Moss of the Woods; I actually I have this, which is a pendulum, and a triangular one that's strung as a necklace

~

skunk skull

this was a gift from @domesticated-chaos, when I was in the ICU - she gave it to me in a paper bag along with a few other things and went maybe you should leave it in the bag, it's clean but the nurses might not like it XD (she told me she thought it was a cat skull when she first saw it and thought Kalira needs it! and after finding out it was a skunk, decided I still needed it)

~

rain chimes

we've had that since I was little! (it's full of ball bearings, and the top has three magnets over the cymbals)

~

beltknives

they used to have tassels, but I wore the knives on my belt to SCA events and a few other things and eventually. . . (I also taught myself the throw them accurately as a teenager)

~

Obey bracelet

bought it at an antique store in a nearby town (though obviously this was not from the antiques XD)

~

wooden runes and their box

from Grove and Grotto; the first set of runes I actually bought myself, a couple years ago (the set I use most was a gift when I was fifteen; I've been given, bought, and made a few more sets)

~

Plague Docling

also a gift! (I'd wanted one since I first saw them for sale) his lantern is glow in the dark~

~

lion statue

bought in an antique store on the way back from a writing retreat with friends (I saw him in it on the way there, and loved him but he was too expensive for an impulse purchase; luckily he was still there when we drove back - I kept idly thinking of him) - he's cast from one of a pair, the originals sculpted in 1792 for Pope Clement XIII's tomb in Rome

(and he was expensive for an impulse purchase but I was researching after I got home and he was a great deal >.>)

~

antique style key

I own . . . a number of antique style keys (and some actual antique keys), including one that's about as heavy as my cat (it's Very Large), and a pressed metal art of one, but this is the one I thought of when writing the poll XD it was also a gift

Trinket Poll Game

Tag game: pick stuff from your living/sleeping space and have people vote on what they want to take home

Taking a free tag from @oblivionsdream, because it looks quite fun, thanks!

Tagging: @dawen, @navigatorsghost, @kitsunekage88, and anyone who sees this who would like! Would love to virtually peek~ *eyes*

(I might reblog this with pictures of my own trinkets added. . .)

[drdileepsinghrathore]

Aortic Aneurysm Surgery: Procedure Details And Recovery

An aortic aneurysm is a condition in which the aorta, the largest blood vessel in the body, becomes enlarged and weakened. This can lead to a life-threatening rupture if left untreated. Surgery to repair an aortic aneurysm is a major procedure, but it can be lifesaving. In this blog, we will discuss the procedure details and recovery for aortic aneurysm surgery.

Procedure Details

The type of surgery performed will depend on the location and size of the aneurysm. There are two main types of aortic aneurysm surgery: open repair and endovascular repair.

Open repair is the traditional surgery and involves making a large incision in the chest or abdomen to access the aorta. The weakened portion of the aorta is then removed, and a graft made of synthetic material is sewn in place. This new graft reinforces the aorta and prevents it from rupturing. Open repair typically requires a hospital stay of one to two weeks and a recovery period of six to eight weeks.

Endovascular repair is a minimally invasive procedure that involves inserting a catheter through a small incision in the groin and guiding it to the site of the aneurysm. A stent graft, which is a metal mesh tube covered in fabric, is then placed inside the aorta to reinforce the weakened section. Endovascular repair typically requires a shorter hospital stay of a few days and a shorter recovery period of two to four weeks.

Recovery

After surgery, patients will be monitored closely in the hospital's intensive care unit (ICU). Vital signs, such as heart rate and blood pressure, will be closely monitored, and pain medication will be administered as needed.

Once stable, patients will be moved to a regular hospital room. The recovery process will involve physical therapy to help the patient regain strength and mobility. Patients will need to take it easy for a few weeks to allow their body to heal.

It is important to follow the orders Aortic Aneurysm Repair Doctor in Bhopal regarding physical activity and any prescribed medications. Patients will need to avoid heavy lifting and strenuous activities for several weeks after surgery. Most patients can return to normal activities within two to three months after surgery.

Conclusion

Aortic aneurysm surgery is a major procedure, but it can be lifesaving. The type of surgery performed will depend on the size and location of the aneurysm. Recovery times will vary depending on the type of surgery and individual circumstances. It is important to follow the Best Cardiologist in Bhopal orders regarding physical activity and medication to ensure a successful recovery. If you suspect you may have an aortic aneurysm, seek medical attention immediately to receive the necessary treatment.

[txemrn]

I posted 1,309 times in 2022

382 posts created (29%)

927 posts reblogged (71%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ao719

@kat-tia801

@sfb123

@socalwriterbee

@moodmusicmonday

I tagged 1,063 of my posts in 2022

Only 19% of my posts had no tags

#reblog - 415 posts

#the royal romance - 359 posts

#hey queue - 313 posts

#open heart - 220 posts

#choices fanfic - 195 posts

#liam rys - 186 posts

#ethan ramsey - 185 posts

#you asked - 178 posts

#choices trr - 173 posts

#tathan - 150 posts

Longest Tag: 122 characters

#i have a vague idea of what is going on in tna right now but in my perfect universe these two are together and flourishing

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Happy Belated Birthday, @charlotteg234 !

We love you so, so much, and we hope your day was just as incredible as you are!

💜, @kat-tia801 & @txemrn

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77 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

#4

Boughs & Mockingbirds

Part 8

Need to catch up? B&MB Masterlist

Book: The Royal Heir

Sunmary: King Liam Rys painfully recounts the final week leading up to the birth of the royal heir during Riley’s hospital stay-- in ICU.

☆☆☆ Canon deviation of the end of TRH book 1/beginning of TRH book 2)

Warning: language; fairly angsty; some NSFW material

⛔ TW for Sensitive Readers⛔ heavy discussions and depictions of medical emergencies during childbirth, including some descriptions of newborns that may be dark and unsettling; some main characters will face life-threatening situations while others experience PTSD and heavy grief; please use discretion

Pairings: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks-Rys; Maxwell Beaumont x Hana Lee

Word count: ~6100

Series Song Inspirations: “I’ll Never Be Ready “ by Veridia 🖤 “Soon You’ll Get Better” by Taylor Swift 🖤 “Head Above Water” by Avril Lavigne

A/N: To my readers that follow this series: thank you for your kind words and encouragement to get this chapter out! This story took quite a break between chapters, but it's back (we're still not at the Last Apple Ball, but it's coming). Also, a HUGE thank you to all of my sweet readers and brainstormers (@ao719 @charlotteg234 @kat-tia801)! This was a group effort, and I can't thank y'all enough for your wisdom! Also, this chapter wasn't truly beta'd, so please forgive my errors. Also, the characters, the plot, and some dialogue belong to Pixelberry.

~🖤~

Present Day

Liam carefully opens his irritated eyes. Holding his aching head, he peers through his fingers, taking in the disarray of his wife’s hospital room. Empty syringes and medicine vials litter the floor.�� Furniture is tossed chaotically against the wall. Bags of fluid and blood that were once feeding into Riley’s veins now hang desolate in the air on metal poles.  In the darkness, it looks like a post-apocalyptic scene from a horror movie.

But, for Liam: wasn’t it?

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83 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

#3

It's that time again!

Hey, sweet friends!

Firstly, if you are being tagged, that means that at some point, you enjoyed something that I've written and asked for a tag. And for that, I want to thank you so much for the support! 💜

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90 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

#2

Pour Two Glasses

Chapter 2: "... the fear that I can't control this."

Need to catch up? Click Here!

Book: The Royal Romance (post series)

Word Count: 5385 (+/-)

Series Synopsis: In the midst of a violent political war, Queen Riley Rys’s life is dismantled overnight, forcing her to flee Cordonia to live in hiding as a commoner with a loyal, best friend

Series Song Inspo: “Pour Two Glasses” by the Movielife

Chapter Song Inspo: "A Place to Start" by Mike Shinoda

Series Warnings: angst; profanity; major character death; grief and mental health discussion; discussion of violence & war; alcohol use; NSFW material

AN: It's back! It's back! And this girl could not be any more excited! I love this story, and I hope you will join me in this adventure as Riley learns to live and love again after tragedy. HUGE Thanks to everyone that helped over the past year to help bring this story to life! To my beautiful writing sister-in-crime @kat-tia801: thank you for all of your encouragement in keeping me focused and for pre-reading! These characters and some plot points belong to our friend at Pixelberry.

AN2: Block quotes are not working for me. When there is a change of scenery, it will be indicated by a separation with (----------); if the scenery deals with a change in time, it will be labeled as such at the top of the scene (ex "present", "past", etc). If it is a flashback, that entire section will be italicized. I hope this helps.

~🖤~

Present

It has been almost two days since King Liam's aircraft was savagely shot down off the coast of Tunisia, approximately two-hundred twenty kilometers southwest of Malta.  Rescue efforts were made by both Tunisian and Italian officials, Cordonia joining them the next morning, but gravely, only remnants remained of the plane. The hope for peace appointed by the UNM now lays desolate, set adrift in the darkness of the sea.

Two days.

A mere forty-eight hours is literally all that stands between Drake Walker and seeing his childhood friend alive. 

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96 notes - Posted May 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Stay

Prologue: a Shadow in the Dark

Pairing (current): Liam Rys x MC (Riley Brooks); Drake Walker x f!OC (Jodi); Leo Rys x Madeleine Amaranth; Constantine x Eleanor

Word Count: ~5250

Summary: With her family facing deportation back to Auvernal, fun-spirited Reid Ambrose quits college to support her family. But as fate would have it, she accepts a temporary job as a caregiver for the royal family, an experience that will challenge her, break her, and devastate her world in the most exciting of ways.

Series Warning: ⛔ Please Be Advised: 18+ Only ⛔This series will contain mature material, including foul language, NSFW 🍋, discussion/depictions of war, violence, gun violence, assassination attempts; medical situations, including major character injuries; ethical dilemmas including euthanasia & bodily autonomy; mental health, including depression, PTSD, suicide

Series Music Inspo: "Awake" by Secondhand Serenade

Chapter Music Inspo: "Nothing Makes Sense Anymore" by Mike Shinoda

AN: I know, I know. I have no business starting a new series, but the inspiration was there, so I hope y'all don't mind. In the meantime, thank you so, so much for sticking with me as a writer. Majority of these characters and some plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Special thanks for my sweet friends that read over a few excerpts. This was never fully pre-read or beta'd, so chances are, there will be mistakes. Please forgive me! Also, you will recognize some items from canon; other items may be completely contradictory to canon. Just got with it, and enjoy the story. 😊

~🖤~

A harmonious chorus of early morning robins resound across the sleepy Cordonian countryside. The brilliance of the new-day sun remains hidden under the horizon; however, the sky splashes with vibrant hues of violet and indigo in anticipation of its grand arrival.

The fresh scent of the springtime gardenias wafts gently with the cool breeze into the bedroom suite. With the tickle of pollen on his nose, Liam quickly stirs from his deep slumber, absentmindedly scratching his face. He then allows his entire body to grow rigid, stretching out the tightened muscles of his physique, his feet falling off the edge of the bed: one of the sacrifices he makes staying over at her place.

Blinking his eyes awake, they carefully adjust to the various shapes of the darkened room, his favorite laying mere inches away from his own exposed figure. And he smiles. The slope of her bare hips, her perfectly tossed lavender-scented waves, even the melodic hum of her tiny snore: Liam is completely helpless, completely captivated with his girlfriend Riley Brooks.

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115 notes - Posted March 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[heavymetalicu]

Alex Bent of Trivium Interviewed by DJ Necro Check out Triviums drummer Alex Bent getting interviewed by DJ Necro. Hear them talk about the new Trivium Album "What The Dead Men Say" and a ton of other stuff! Listen below!

[whateverthebeeswant]

I haven't seen a ton of stuff on Tumblr about the Astroworld fatalities, which is awful because it was such a tragic disaster and people in power are trying very, very hard to sweep it under the rug (see this removed video). It's also being grossly misinterpreted.

I refuse to believe that Astroworld demonstrates that we are all animals at heart or that celebrity culture corrupted every person. First, this was not a stampede-- it was a crowd crush. Someone in a crowd crush has no idea what is happening towards the front and is helpless to move. Crowd crushes are largely the fault of poor crowd organizing/management. Some of the people in the crowd were assholes-- those who stormed the gates, danced on ambulances, etc. Most of them were just caught up in a press of bodies.

Travis Scott is not an innocent party here. He encouraged fans storming the gates and has been charged twice before in 2015 and 2017 for inciting hysteria at his shows. He encouraged violence against a kid in 2015 while crowd-surfing for allegedly trying to steal his shoe and at another show told fans to jump from a balcony-- fans later suffered serious injuries. He encouraged fans to flip off security trying to break up to the crowd and get to injured people. He has a history of being awful to security. I hate cops as much as anyone, but security guards aren't cops. They're just some guys who are getting paid a shit wage to prevent people from getting hurt. You're not standing up to the "man" by being a dick to security at a concert any more than you would be for getting tossed out of a bar by a bouncer for being drunk and disorderly. You're just being an asshole.

Travis Scott encourages people to "rage" at his shows with no care for the consequences. Well, that's just a mosh pit, right? Except, punk/heavy metal shows are famously focused on a sense of community and social responsibility. There have literally been scientific studies that demonstrate how focused heavy metal fans are on helping people who fall during shows. However, if you co-opt the goal of a mosh pit as a stress-reliever and/or a way to release anger without the rules of etiquette or citizenship, then you might be Travis Scott you've created an incredibly dangerous situation.

Travis Scott saw an ambulance trying to get through and he didn't stop playing. He saw a fan's lifeless body being carried away and he didn't stop playing. There is no way he couldn't have heard the crowd chanting to stop. This is not normal behavior. Side note: Here are some examples of responsible examples of crowd control behavior from artists who stopped their shows to stop people from getting hurt in no particular order that I found on Reddit in no particular order: Adele, ASAP Rocky, Avenge Sevenfold, The Killers, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Rage Against the Machine, KSI, MCR, this entire compilation).

These artists aren't heroes. They just know that crowd crushes have happened before and are practicing basic human decency.

And there were people who tried to help. If you haven't seen the video of the girl who climbed up on a camera platform or read her account, it's brutal, terrifying stuff. People were chanting to stop the show. This ICU nurse tried to help and documented the severely undetrained staff. Concertgoers did their best to pull others to safety, but the people who were in charge simply did not care.

Remember how when Squid Game came out and people who completely missed the point were talking about how it showed that people were awful and would turn on each other? It's a similar situation here. There were some assholes, but ultimately Travis Scott simply does not care about his fans. He's built his brand on being mysterious and edgy-- he doesn't care who dies for him. And that’s the story, not the entirety of the crowd, but one out-of-touch millionaire celebrity who doesn’t care.

[spriingdaisies]

i'm glad ur still accepting requests! would it be alright to request a modern au! illustrations of the one piece characters and their jobs who are currenly in their 20s? I'm about to be in my mid-20s and am super confused! (lol) ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ or maybe just yamato! i love him! ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ thank you!

Ahhh this is a mad fun request!! Took me a while to formulate some HCs

Especially bc I am also in my twenties feeling p lost 😭 gonna put the notes for each character in a read more bc I doubt this will be legible lmao.

Also note I’m Aussie, uni = tertiary education like college

Law:

- still in med school

- exclusively works in ICU/operating room (unconscious patients = no complaints about his DEATH tattoos)

- dead inside, buried in school and work

Robin:

- (is blasting heavy metal through AirPods)

- doing a PDH in archaeology and having a considerably better time in school than Law

- on a big scholarship so not stressed abt money but also does some tutoring for kids on the side

Zoro:

- graduated high school but saw no point in uni bc he obviously has to be the VERY BEST in

- kendo. Or maybe boxing bc it’s sexier

- EITHER an Olympic athlete or underground champion. OR Olympian who falls from grace oooOOooooO

- (he’s sulking after smashing his competition and getting all the gold medals bc he didn’t get a 100% score)

FRANKY:

-( has seperate draws of Hawaiian shirts for work, casual, and date nights)

-didn’t finish high school

- TAFE King! ( TAFE is like hands on certifications)

- toms mechanic apprentice

NAMI:

- geography major, late to uni, now saving to join research teams on the field

- has like 10 side hustles at once; helping bellemere pay off debt, saving for dreams and addicted to online shopping

- weather girl, model, waitress

SANJI:

- chef

- what did you expect

USOPP:

-childrens book author & illustrator

- also helps out at an antique store and tells mad stories about the previous owners of the antiques he’s selling

JINBE:

- ok actually I forgot this was a mid 20 year old prompt

- ummmmmm welll Jinbe is the loving community grandpa we all need

- maybe even so in his 20s

- fisherman following family tradition and volunteers teaching kids karate

LUFFY:

- he is not built for the modern world

- zoro and nami (and the others ig) made sure he graduated high school at least

- but why do smth boring like uni

- twitch streamer and helps at Dadans store

- not quite a freeloader but still ace and sabo support him a lot

(Ran out of drawing steam for these last two)

SABO:

- leader of his university’s communism club

- works for dragon but never gives a straight answer on what his job is

ACE:

- half asses his uni degree (Ps get degrees ayyyy)

-but doesn’t use his degree

-youth worker of some sort, maybe a camp leader

- also in a shitty little band

[nastybuckybarnes]

In a Heartbeat  -  Seven

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, Fluff, Fluff, FLUFF

Word Count: 4.1K

A/n: Here she is! Part seven! I’m gonna write a little epilogue but the fic can very well end here! I love this series with my whole heart and soul omg

Series Masterlist

~*~

He’s numb.

So damn numb.

Nothing even matters. His ears are ringing, the bright lights bouncing off the linoleum floors are fucking with his eyes but he doesn’t care because you’ve been in the operating room for hours and all he wants is to see you, to make sure you’re okay.

No one’s said a single thing to him about whether or not you’re okay, and it’s taking all of his self-control not to break down that door and see for himself.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts and bringing him back to the loud sounds of the waiting room.

He furrows his brows at Steve, confused out of his mind until he sees Tommy in his other arm, head resting against his father's shoulder and a casted arm hanging limply at his side.

“Hey Tommy, how you feeling?” The brunet asks, his voice rough and hoarse with lack of use.

The six-year-old only whimpers softly in response, burrowing further into his father’s neck.

“He’s okay. Doctor’s got him on some painkillers. Said it was a clean break from pounding on that window.” Bucky stands up, rubbing his nephew on the back. “You’re a hero, buddy. Just like your daddy.” Tommy sniffles and nods, the sight breaking the man’s heart.

“You should head home for the night, Buck. Shower, rest, then come back in the morning.” He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, shaking his head.

“I-I can’t, Steve. What if... what if she comes out and I’m not here? Or what if...” He trails off, not even wanting to entertain the idea of the other option.

“I saw Nat on her way down here. Ask her for an update and then go home. You’ve had a long day. And when she’s out of surgery she's gonna be upset to see that you’ve exhausted yourself out here in the waiting room.” Steve has a point. Both men are still in their fire gear, having rushed to the hospital directly from the fire.

It’s after midnight now.

“I’m taking Tommy home. Take care of yourself tonight, Buck. If not for you, then for her.” He nods, eyes on the floor as the blond leaves, his son curled up against his side.

“Barnes? You’re still here?” He looks up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, desperation evident on his face as she walks over to him.

“I’ve got no update other than she’s unstable and that they’re doing everything they can. It’ll be another few hours before she’s out of surgery and even then, she’s going straight to the ICU and won’t be awake for at least a day or so.” He lets out a terribly shaky breath but nods, rubbing his eyes then pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y-you’ll call if there are any updates, right? I’m just gonna pop home and shower and sleep for a few hours but I'll be back first thing in the morning.” She nods, taking his hand and squeezing tightly.

“I’m off for the rest of the night, so I’ll be sticking around bugging the nurses for updates whenever I can. Might even bribe an intern with good coffee, not this hospital shit.” Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step towards the exit then hesitates, looking back at the redhead for a. moment. “Do you think she’s gonna make it?” He asks, his voice soft and broken and nearly lost among the sea of people.

Natasha swallows hard and avoids his eyes, taking a deep breath before answering.

“The doctors are doing everything they can.” A rehearsed answer. An answer she gives to relatives to let them know that they shouldn’t expect much.

He says nothing, only gives her a firm nod, then turns and leaves the hospital.

Hot droplets of water rain down on him, washing away the stench of smoke and the physical reminder of the events of the day. But no heat and no water pressure will wash away the sorrow in his soul. The absolute unadulterated fear that grips his bones and seeps into his bloodstream. That is something that won’t be washed away by any amount of water and suds.

His movements are mechanical, scrub, rinse, dry, dress.

The sleep that finds him is restless and fitful, filled with nightmares that will haunt him for nights to come. Every thought, both waking and otherwise, are occupied by you. Your face, your smile, your laugh, and the thought that he may never experience any of them again.

He's back at the hospital at six-thirty, coffee in his metal hand because his flesh one is shaking too much.

Just as he’s walking to the reception desk, he sees Natasha walking towards the waiting room. Her face is unreadable when she sees him, but he notices her take a deep breath.

“What is it?” He asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s still unstable, hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s been out for about three hours. She probably won’t wake up until this evening.” He takes a few deep breaths then nods, a bubble of relief hugging him tenderly.

“Where is she?” Nat sighs and turns on her heel, leading him towards your room.

“James, I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. She’s not doing well. There’s still a fair chance that she won’t wake up.” She stops, looking up at him with vulnerability in her eyes, tears brimming.

“What is it?” He’s nervous, his heart feels like it’s going to explode.

“They’re saying she needs a transplant. That her heart won’t last for much longer and if she wants any hope of surviving more than a couple years, she’ll need a new heart.”

The air leaves his lungs in a whoosh, almost as if someone punched him in the gut. He stumbles back a step, coffee dropped and hands coming to the tops of his thighs as he hunches over, trying to catch his breath.

“That’s a best-case scenario. Worst case is she... well... we should’ve said our goodbyes. But she’s strong. She’ll pull through. She has to pull through.” That last part is whispered so softly that the brunet almost misses it.

“Nat,” his voice breaks, it cracks and splinters and shatters in pieces on the linoleum that he doesn’t have the energy to pick up. He can’t pick himself back up. Not if you might not wake up. He just can’t.

“Sit down, c’mon.” She helps him lean back against the wall, sliding down until he’s seated, arms draped over his knees and his head hanging heavily between them.

He can’t breathe.

A sick voice in his head screams that this is what you must’ve been feeling, this terrible tightness in your chest, this inability to draw in a single damn breath. It’s unbearable and for just a moment he realizes he wouldn’t blame you if you gave up, if you just let it take you. But he shakes that thought from his head and instead focuses on you fighting. You need to fight. If you can pull through, then they can find you a new heart and you’ll be okay.

You’re going to be okay.

You have to be okay.

~*~

Everything feels still. Dry. Bland.

If you could pin it to a colour, that colour would be beige.

Everything feels beige.

You’ve been awake for a little while now, gathering your bearings and trying to remember what happened. The last thing you remember is the fire bell... Wanda telling you not to go... and then running back into the building to find Tommy.

Tommy.

Your heart picks up in speed, pain flaring through your chest at the action, and an alarm starts beeping rapidly.

It takes only seconds for the door to open, nurses and doctors flooding into the room and checking the various machines around you while you grab at the front of your hospital gown uselessly, trying to alleviate the pain.

“(Y/n), I need you to take a big breath with me, okay?” A doctor says, her brown eyes focused on yours. You nod, inhaling with her for a moment then exhaling. You do this a few times and the machine gradually stops, your heart slowing as whatever they injected into your bloodstream takes effect.

Nurses slowly trickle out, leaving just you and the doctor.

“Well, you sure know how to make an entrance,” she says with a smile, looking over your chart.

“What can I say, Doc? I’ve got a flair for the dramatic.” Your voice is weak, far weaker than it should be, and that alone scares you.

She chuckles softly, smiling at your words before tucking the chart under her arm and looking at you straight on.

“You being alive right now is an absolute miracle,” she says softly, taking a step towards the bed then motioning to the chair beside it, asking wordlessly if she can take a seat.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths as you prepare to hear whatever news she has for you.

“Your heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital, and the second time we almost couldn’t get it going again. Your heart is weak, and what you endured nearly ruptured your left atrium and you had severe lacerations of your ventricles. It is most comparable to a very severe heart attack, and you’re lucky to have survived.”

She doesn’t look like she’s delivering good news. No, she should be happy if you’re lucky to have survived. That fact alone puts you on edge.

“What is it? What... what’s wrong with my heart now?” You know it can’t be good judging only by the look on her face. It’s a look you’ve seen far too many times.

“With the rate you’re going, your heart will give out completely in three or four years. And it won’t be a pleasant process. You’ll be in pain, bedridden and hospitalized because you won’t be able to move. The only alternative is a transplant.” The world around you shifts from beige to grey, the clouds dark and the room sorrowful.

Your ears start ringing, loud and painfully and it takes everything in you not to rip them right off.

“S-so that’s it then? I’m gonna die in three years if I’m lucky? I’ve only got three years left?” She sighs and looks down at her hands, “the only other option would be to put you on a waiting list for a new heart, but we cannot guarantee that you’ll get it in time, but it’s worth a shot.” You shake your head, tears falling from your eyes and splattering on the ugly blue hospital blanket.

“I don’t want a new heart! I don’t want to go through a process and get my hopes up over something that I won’t get in time.” You sniffle and shove your face in your hands, the steady beeping of the machine next to you making you want to cry even harder.

“I’ll give you some time, (Y/n).” The doctor gets up and leaves, a sad look on her face as she turns to the pair waiting anxiously outside your door.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, her eyes wide with curiosity and desperation.

“I recommend you give her space. She’s... processing everything,” Doctor Palmer says softly, giving Natasha a sad smile before walking away to handle her other patients.

Nat exchanges looks with Bucky then slowly walks to the door.

“Just give me a minute to see how she’s doing, okay? I’ll tell her you’re out here waiting, I just wanna see if she needs anything.” He takes a deep breath but nods, understanding that Natasha would be able to tell, if only from a medical standpoint, what you need.

You keep your face in your hands, tears wetting your palms, as the door opens again.

“Beans?” Nat’s voice makes you stiffen, sniffling and wiping your eyes before peeking up at her.

Her heart shatters in her chest at the sight of you.

Skin dull, eyes heavy and sunken. She’s seen a lot of sick people before but never would she have put you in the same category as them. Now though? Now, you look the part.

“I uh... I heard the news. Bugged the nurses for updates and they finally caved.”

Your bottom lip wobbles and then a sob bubbles out of your chest.

Nat’s face falls and she slides onto the bed beside you, pulling you into a tight embrace while you sob.

“Oh beans,” she whispers, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“I don’t want a new heart!” You cry, tears soaking her shirt. She hugs you, holds you tightly while you cry out your frustrations, your sorrows.

It’s agony.

She has so many questions, so much she wants to say, but she knows better.

She holds her tongue, wanting you to be in a better headspace before she talks to you about your options. It’s too soon. The wound is too fresh.

Bucky sits impatiently outside of the room the whole time, leg bouncing and flesh fingers trembling.

Natasha comes out of your room a short while later, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” The redhead nods, taking a few deep breaths.

“I’ve seen a lot of sick people, Barnes. A lot of them. But seeing her... seeing my friend so weak and tiny...” She shakes her head, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m scared, Buck.” Bucky pulls her into a hug, his own breaths shaking.

“It's okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She sniffles again then speaks, “she’s asleep again. She should be good to see you the next time she wakes up though. I’m sure she misses you.” He squeezes his eyes shut but nods, trying to mentally prepare himself to see you in such a fragile state.

~*~

Bucky doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t even want to feel.

Helpless.

That’s the word that sums it up the best.

Seeing you on that hospital bed, tubes attached to your face, arms, and chest, he feels absolutely helpless.

“Hey,” he murmurs, smiling gently when you look up from your book.

“Bucky... Hi.” Your voice is raspy and hoarse, and he has to take a few shaky breaths to stop from crying.

“You mind if I sit?” You shake your head, motioning to the chair beside your bed.

He takes a seat and looks at you closely, his eyes welling up with tears.

“How ya feelin, pretty girl?” You huff a breath out through your nose then shrug, trying your hardest to stay strong in front of him.

“I uh... I’ve been better, I gotta say.” He chuckles weakly then nods, sniffling and dropping his gaze for a moment.

“Nat uh... Nat told me what the doctors said. About your heart and stuff. That’s... intense.” It’s not the best word but it’s the only one he can find.

You blow a breath out through your mouth and nod.

“It’s scary,” you whisper, not looking up from your hands even when he takes them in his.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to be put on a waiting list only to not get one in time. And there are people who need a new heart more than I do. People who want one more than I do.” He furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“What do you mean, you don’t want a new heart? Why wouldn’t you want one?”

You sigh heavily, “because, James. This is my heart. It’s the heart that I’ve lived with for my whole life. I don’t want a new one because this one is mine. This is the one that’s dealt with heartbreaks and betrayals. This is the one that’s gotten me through the bad days and the good. And this is the one that chose you. I don’t want a different one. I wanna keep this one. And don’t you dare tell me that my days are numbered if I keep this one because my days are numbered regardless.”

You finally look up at him, fire in your eyes as you express everything that’s been going on in your mind.

“We’re all gonna die someday, and it may not be the way we expect or the way we want, and we won’t ever be fully ready for it. But it’s gonna happen. I’d much rather know that I spent my life doing what I wanted on my terms. If my days are numbered, I'd rather enjoy them than spend them waiting for a heart I may never get. My heart’s still got a few years left in it. Careful years, yeah, but years no less.”

Tears stain his cheeks and he nods, sniffling twice then pressing a kiss to your hands.

“I’m not going to try and change your mind, Doll. The choice is completely yours and no matter what you decide to do, I’ll stay by your side through all of it, I promise. You’re my girl, my best girl, my only girl, and I want you to do what’s best for you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, having mentally prepared yourself for him to put up a fight, not for him to be so supportive of your decision.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’m gonna cherish every fucking moment that you let me spend with you because I love you. I thought,” he pauses, pulling a hand back to scrub the tears off of his cheeks only for more to fall.

“I thought I’d lose you before getting a chance to truly tell you. But I’m not gonna waste any more time because life is a precious gift. I love you, (Y/n). So much. To the fucking ends of the Earth. I love you and I don't want a day to go by where you don’t know just how much I love you.”

You whimper, his confession making warmth spread through your body and tears rain down your cheeks.

“I-I love you too, James. With every ounce of my heart, I love you. And I don't want to let you down and I never want to hurt you.” He closes his eyes, content to bask in the weight of your words for a moment longer, a private, intimate moment.

He eventually settles his head on the bed next to your hip, and your fingers find their way into his luscious brown locks, twirling the thick strands around mindlessly.

“When are you getting discharged?” He asks, his voice muffled by the bed.

“I’m not sure yet. Doctor Palmer said she wants to keep me here for at least another week or so to monitor my heart and take me off the medication, and then maybe some more time after that depending on how weak I am.” He nods, nuzzling against you some more.

“I’m not going back to work ‘till you’re out,” he says matter-of-factly.

You only giggle, shaking your head.

“James, that’s not even plausible. You’ve got bills to pay. Besides, you’ll get tired of being here. I’m gonna spend most of my time sleeping or bugging the nurses for some real food.” He lifts his head, eyes full of vulnerability.

“I just don't wanna leave you and then...” He trails off but you understand his concern.

“I’m gonna be okay. Doctor Palmer says I’m doing okay. I’m sure Nat will continue bugging her for updates and she’ll let you know if there’s anything concerning happening. But I’m gonna be fine, I swear.” He watches you for a moment longer before nodding and pressing his head against your thigh.

A thought bubbles into your mind and you tug gently on his hair to get his attention.

“What happened to Tommy?” You ask, voice tight and filled with apprehension.

Bucky only smiles gently.

“Lil guy’s a hero. He busted that window open, that’s how we found you two. Broke his arm but he’s okay. Says he looks like me so he likes it.” A smile finds its way onto your face at the idea of Tommy looking up to his uncle so much.

“He’s already gotten everyone at the firehouse to sign it, and I’m sure when he’s back to school he’ll get everyone there to sign it too. But the lil guy’s a hero. Gonna make a good firefighter.” You nod, mind flashing back to those last few moments in the school.

“I was so scared, James. I-I couldn’t protect him and I didn’t know what to do.” He reaches up and strokes your cheek gently, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.” You take a few deep breaths and nod, trying to calm down before your heart rate picks up too much.

“You need to worry about yourself, and not everyone else. Focus on getting better, okay? And then, when you’re ready, I’m gonna take you out on a date and show you just how much you can enjoy life, okay?”

You nod, smiling at him.

“Okay.”

~*~

“Miss (Y/l/n)!” Tommy runs at you full speed, nearly knocking you over when he barrels into your legs.

Bucky’s quick to steady you, opening his mouth to reprimand his nephew but you stop him, raising a hand to cut him off.

“Hey, Tommy! How’s my little superhero feeling?” He pulls back and smiles up at you.

“I got another cast so now my arm looks just like uncle Bucky’s!” You glance at the new blue cast and smile brightly.

“Look at that! And you’re a hero just like him too, huh?” He nods excitedly then digs around in his pocket for a moment.

“Here!” He hands you a sharpie then points to a blank space on his cast.

“I made sure to leave room for you to sign it!” Your face softens and you crouch down in front of him, signing your name and drawing a small picture.

“Thank you, Tommy.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder as his dad calls his name.

“C’mon Tommy! You gonna help us move or are you gonna help miss (Y/l/n) get organized?” He looks between you and his dad then runs over to the moving truck, excitedly grabbing whatever his little arms can carry then bringing them into the house.

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You ready?” You look up at your new house, then over at him, nodding without hesitation.

“Absolutely.”

The moving process is long and tedious, and after seven hours of lifting, unboxing, cleaning, and organizing, you’re about ready to call it a day.

“Pizza’s on its way, and Nat ran out to grab some beers,” Bucky says, coming up into the master bedroom. Concern immediately colours his features as he sees the way you’re sitting. You’re on the bed, hunched over with one hand on your mouth and the other on your lower abdomen.

“(Y/n)?” He asks, coming to a crouch in front of you and trying to get a look at your face.

You take a few deep breaths then nod, opening your eyes and offering him a weak smile.

“You okay?” You nod again but he seems unconvinced.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I uh.. not really. I wanted to tell you in a better way but I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” His heart is in his throat, absolutely terrified of what you’re going to tell him.

You’ve been going to the doctor a lot more frequently, and your energy levels have plummeted.

He knew you didn’t have time left but it hasn’t even been six months since the fire.

You pull his hand to your stomach and rest it there gently, eyes finding his as you wait for it to click.

He stares at his hand in confusion, that confusion melting away as he realizes what you’re telling him.

“Wait, are you...?”  His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised and heart pounding.

You only nod, tears welling up in your eyes as he launches up and wraps his arms around your frame.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! I’m gonna be a dad!” You giggle wetly, tears of joy falling and getting soaked up by his shirt.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” He pulls back, hands on your small baby bump.

“How far along are you?” He asks, cradling the bump delicately between his hands.

“About three months. And the doctor said that they’ve already got a birth plan ready, and different pills for me to take to calm my heart.” His glossy eyes look up at you, so full of love and adoration.

“I can’t believe it. I...” he stops, leaning in the gently kiss your lips then pulls you into another tight embrace.

“Thank you, (Y/n). Thank you.”